Page 25 of Lennox Lane

“I hacked your email and iCloud.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed.

Lennox frowned. “Why do you sound calm?”

“Because I’m deciding whether I want to kill you with my hands or outsource it to someone with farming equipment.”

“Lane—”

“No, no, no. Let’s sit in this. You hacked my email and my iCloud?”

“Yes.”

“Because you lost your entire mind, right?”

“Because I needed to make sure you were safe,” he lied.

“Safe?” She laughed once, but it was sharp and humorless. “Safe from what, Lennox? Calendar invites? Cloud storage? My Sephora receipts?”

“And threats.”

“You are the threat,” she hurled the insult.

“I’m not.”

“You’re sitting in my car without permission after digitally violating my privacy and publicly humiliating me in a restaurant. If danger had a cologne, it would smell like whatever the hell you have on,” she spat venomously.

His mouth twitched again.

“Don’t you smile,” she snapped. “I will slap the MIT out of you.”

“That degree was expensive.”

“Shut your as up, Junior Healey,” she demanded.

Lennox exhaled slowly. “I know you’re mad.”

“Oh, is that what this is? Thank you, Dr. Obvious. I thought this was a light rash.”

“I had protections on you,” he added.

“Protections?” she repeated, voice going dangerously soft.

“Digital alerts,” he said carefully. “Trigger words. Threatening language and anything that looked like blackmail, stalking, harm, financial coercion, proximity risks. The same kind of system I use for KC and Cadence, Nova too, when needed.”

Lane stared at him. “Did I ask you to do that?”

“No.”

“Did I consent to that?” She probed.

“No.”

“Did I even know you were Batman with Wi-Fi until three hours ago?” She let his nickname slip.

His brows pulled together. “They called me that?”

“Focus, Felonious Monk.”