Page 2 of Web of Lies
"So, you're locking us up now?" I furrow my eyebrows. "There is no evidence."
"There is Miss Hayes." A smile plays on his lips. "And I have to admit, I was curious about the young genius I've heard rumors about."
"Genius?" I repeat after him.
"Your malware is fantastic. My IT department has encountered nothing like what you created before, and they haven't been able to figure it out. If it weren't for the stray rat we stumbled upon tied to your group, we would have never found you."
A rat? My eyes widen, and my gaze darts across the interior of the car before landing on Mr. Philips again. If they have someone who has revealed information to them directly, I'm in trouble. As a general rule, I leave no digital evidence. That includes every piece of data I gather, erasing itself if I don't accept the final transfer. However, if they had someone in our circle, there is a chance they have recordings, photos, or other intel gathered about us. And this hack alone is enough evidence to put me in prison for years. But I don't want to end up there like my dad just for trying to do the right thing.
Ideas and possibilities about how to get out of this situation race through my mind. But every option feels useless, slipping through my fingers before I can fully grasp it. My pulse pounds in my ears as I search for anything that might save me. And then, like a spark, it hits me.
"What criminals aside from amateur hackers are you hunting?" I ask.
"A bit of everything, but my favorites are the ones tied to organized crime."
Organized crime. Fantastic. I've been observing this part of New York's underworld from a safe distance for years, which means I have information that might be useful. I hesitate, then take a deep breath. "I can help you." Mr. Philips raises an eyebrow. "I'm good at what I do. You said so yourself. If you give me a chance, I can work for you and help you find what you need. I know how to access systems you can't. I'm quick and discreet."
He leans back, his smile fading into a more thoughtful expression. He studies me, considering my offer, unsure whether I'm serious or just desperate, and maybe I'm both.
"You want to work with us? That's a bold offer, Miss Hayes."
"I don't want to go to prison," I admit. "If working with you keeps me free, then yes."
His lips press into a thin line, but a flicker of interest lights up his eyes. "You're smart. I like that attitude. But talk is cheap. If you want to work for me, you'll have to earn your spot." His lips stretch into a smirk. "And I already have the perfect task for you." He shifts in his seat and flips his laptop back open. "Have you heard of Hunt Corp.?" he asks.
My eyes widen at the name of the company plastered all over the news these past few weeks because of the CEO being accused of having ties to a murder trial. I know they're involved in criminal activities, but many people, including my father, had told me to stay away from them, so I did.
"The real question is, who hasn't heard of them?" I ask.
"Exactly."
"Do you want me to hack them? I heard rumors that their IT is weak right now."
"They are." Jackson nods. "But no. Instead of hacking them, I want you to get inside the company, become part of the IT, and gather specific information for me. And if you pull it off…" He pauses. "We'll talk about wiping your record clean. You'll become one of us. Full immunity."
"And if I fail?"
"Then to prison it is," he says without missing a beat. "Your choice, Miss Hayes."
My gaze lingers on the man typing away on his laptop as the blue light from the screen illuminates his sharp features. If this is what it takes to stay out of prison, I'll do it. If there's one thing my dad taught me, it's that if you have to choose between two evils, choose the lesser of the two. And tracking down killers is safer than being locked up with them.
"Alright," I whisper. "I'll do it."
Chapter 1
Riley
I thought I had left that part of my life behind. Yet, here I am. It's been six years since someone last haunted me, and at the time, I got caught.
As I walk past a small coffee shop, I steal a glance at the windows, which mirror the busy street around me. Among the many pedestrians passing by, I spot the man in the black hoodie who has been following me. He's keeping his distance, but ever since I stepped onto the subway after work, he has been on my tail. He followed me to the computer store downtown, then to the coffee shop, and once again, onto the subway.
I've already tested the theory that this is just a freak coincidence. I went in circles around the block, but he stayed behind me the whole time. At one point, I thought he was a hallucination due to my lack of sleep from my current workload. However, the extra shots of espresso could not make him disappear. Instead, it turned me hyperaware.
About a week ago, I got a message from an old contact I thought was just a shadow of my past. I hadn't heard from Jackson in two years, ever since our communication ceased afteryet another dead end. When I received no new instructions or information, I assumed he had given up or shifted his priorities. After checking in once more and getting no reply, I thought I was in the clear. But I was wrong. The message stated I had one week left. I expected it to be an empty threat, but that turned out to be wrong.
My heart drums in my chest as I pick up the pace, my feet thudding against the pavement. The late-summer sun tickles my skin. The mix of panic and heat increases the sweat trickling down my neck and tangling my once perfectly styled copper hair. Once I reach a less crowded part of the sidewalk, I steal a glance at my phone, where I check the last text message I received.
Sidekick: Already there, waiting for you.
