Page 10 of Only the Devil
He’s stepped out on the balcony, water bottle in hand, and his shirt off. Holy Batman, that man is fit. He kicks a leg back, gripping his ankle, pulling on it, stretching his quads. From here, his hair is dark, probably drenched with sweat. His ankle falls, and he chugs the water, then leans against the balcony, scanning across the way, and a frisson of energy lights through me, overriding my unease.
It feels like he can see me, so to test my theory, I lift a hand and wiggle my fingers in a testing wave. He smiles and waves back. Yes, he can see me. And for whatever reason, that makes me smile.
“Oh my—is that your boyfriend on the balcony?”
I jerk in surprise, twisting to find Ms. Weaver in the doorway.
“Well, aren’t you the lucky one.” She steps closer to the window.
“Ah,” I breathe out, unsure what to say, taking in the man who looks a little like some film adaptations of Tarzan. “Yes.”
Sure. All the guys I date resemble the king of the jungle.
“And how convenient that you found a place right across the street. It’s almost like it was meant to be.”
“Yes. A lucky find,” I say, hoping she doesn’t think too much about it.
“And I see you went to Java Mama, but you know, we do have a break room with coffee. Java Mama does make better coffee, if I’m honest. But our break room has lovely tea for the afternoons. I always say tea is perfect for those long work sessions when you need to stay late.”
Noted: caffeine culture and late nights. Scorpio office energy checks out.
She glances in the direction of the corridor outside my office. “Phillip appreciates dedication like that. Do you drink tea?”
“I do. Especially if it’s cold.”
“Well, it’s July and they’re saying a heat dome is going to be settling over us for the next week, so…”
I pull my blazer tighter around me, suddenly noticing that the air conditioning in the building is blasting.
“It gets chilly in here,” she says, nose crinkling with her smile. She glances over her shoulder, possibly seeking out Jake, but he’s gone inside. “Let’s get started, shall we? Phillip’s been so excited about what you’re going to build for us. He’s already told our investors about this tool—he has such confidence in you.” She claps her hands together. “We’d better get you settled so you can start making him proud.”
Perfect. That’s exactly what I want to do. I’ll dig into every single crevice. Phillip Sterling believes I’m designing a system that will give him a competitive advantage, which means they have to share with me everything about how his operation works. And if he’s breaking any laws, I’ll find proof.
Chapter 4
Jake
We’re barely into this op and I’m already over watching paper pushers file in and out of conference rooms and offices. It’s been less than two days of alternating between surveillance and massaging my shoulder with a tennis ball against the wall. I’m beyond bored.
Sterling leases floors two through four; street-level’s retail. Big offices up on four, three is where Daisy landed, and two looks mostly empty.
We got lucky with Daisy’s office location. It’s not directly across from the condo, but throughout most of the day I have a view of the back of her head, her ever-present headphones, and her three monitors, at least when she’s in her office. She’s spent a lot of time in meetings with human resources and what she calls division heads, learning the business. She said she has yet to speak to anyone who doesn’t drink the company Kool-Aid. I still don’t have the faintest idea what this company actually does.
In the mornings, we don’t cross paths. I’m out the door for a run to the nearby park and adjacent trails, and by the time I’ve returned, the shower floor is nearly dry. This weekend, I aim to find a gym, but the schedule should remain the same.
Yesterday she filed out of the building around six. Said Ms. Weaver, the human resources director, walked around the offices doing a sweep at the end of the day, turning off lights. She said it felt motherly the way she did it, but the action seems off to me. But what do I know? I’ve never worked in corporate America.
Based on what I’ve observed of these stooges, I’m damn glad that’s the case.
Daisy stands out as the singular programmer on staff, being as she’s the one who doesn’t look like a clone. She half-adapts to the herd—blazer over jeans—but keeps her own edges. Sandals today, a whisper fancier than flip-flops. The room clones itself; she refuses to. In my mind, she makes herself stick out more by dressing differently, as she’s the only one I’ve observed in denim on this casual Friday, but I’m not going to tell her how to do her job.
Besides, her investigation isn’t a team effort. I’m a protective detail thrust upon Daisy, hired to ease some of Rhodes’ worry. Or hell, maybe Rhodes just wanted a line to his MVP. Doesn’t matter. I’m paid to be here—and if it turns, I’m paid to make sure she walks out.
Truth is, hanging with Daisy after work last night wasn’t half-bad. It’s easy sharing space with her. She loves her noise-cancelling headphones, so after we grabbed takeout and ate, she put those on and read what she calls cyberpunk fiction, a genre I’ve never heard of but she claims is good shit.
I learned a few things about her, too. She packed light: two suitcases, a duffel of Chucks and boots, and more silicon than a Micro Center. Loved that neighbor, Alvin Reed, and she’s hell-bent on justice. She’s a horoscope-loving Sagittarius who told me to buy a lotto ticket based on my natal chart. From what I can tell, she’s brilliant. Quirky.
Am I bored out of my mind? Yes, I am. And getting more bored by the minute.
