Page 71 of Only the Devil
“The kind that recognize opportunities when they present themselves.” He gestures around the expensive restaurant. “The kind that appreciate the difference between a guaranteed executive salary and the empty promise of a lawsuit that will never survive summary judgment.”
The room feels like it’s tilting. “You hired me to shut me up.”
“I hired you because you’re talented.” His smile is sharp now, all pretense dropped. “Whether you remain employed depends on how you choose to use that talent.”
My skin prickles, and I nod, a perfunctory act of obedience, but my mind races. Fuck. He knows about Uncle Alvin. How much does he know? My fingers twist my rings.
Does he know I’m his sole heir? It’s something which means nothing, given he didn’t own real estate, and he lost all but a small amount of retirement. He must assume I’m driving the ball on the class action lawsuit, but I’m not. I haven’t met with any of the other victims. Noah has. But he’s been using Reed’s name to begin discussions. Why does Phillip care so much? How dangerous could the class action lawsuit be? Does he anticipate it will cost him more than twelve million?
The salary, the signing bonus, the convenient timing—it’s all starting to look like a perfectly orchestrated social engineering attack. And I fell for it like a rookie clicking on a phishing email. What other exploits has he been running while I thought I was the one doing reconnaissance?
Chapter 23
Jake
The tracker shows her on the move at 7:32. Brooklyn Nine-Nine plays on mute on the monitor, and I flick the mouse periodically to stop the screensaver from kicking in.
I have some updates to share with her. After she left the office for her friendly dinner, I overheard a conversation between Jocelyn’s interim replacement and an employee. I’m no accountant, but the gist was clear—something wasn’t adding up.
I went back to the tapes, but we don’t have surveillance in every office. After watching the corridor tape, I’m almost certain Jocelyn’s replacement was alone, talking to someone on speakerphone. The quality of the audio recording isn’t fantastic, but I sent it on to Quinn to see if she could make anything of it.
That the accounting reports don’t add up tracks with our suspicion about why Jocelyn was murdered. Perhaps she discovered something she wasn’t supposed to and planned to alert the authorities, or maybe she refused to sign off on the books.
The dot on the map arrives on our street. Dinner wasn’t lengthy, and she’s coming straight back, which means he wasn’t hitting on Daisy. Which, I’ll be honest, is exactly what I expected from the prick. Or maybe he hit on her and she told him off. Yeah, that’s more my girl’s speed.
I considered camping out down the street from the restaurant, but there was no point. Doesn’t mean I haven’t been tracking her location.
I mute the TV and listen for her footsteps on the stairs outside. Something’s different about tonight—I can feel it in my gut. The same instinct I trusted to keep me alive overseas is now telling me Daisy’s about to walk through that door with news that changes the landscape.
I turn the volume back up, not wanting to look like I’ve been sitting here in the dark obsessing over her location. Which, let’s be honest, is exactly what I’ve been doing.
Within minutes, she enters, locking the door behind her.
Her lips are pursed, her skin is pale, and the whites of her eyes are pronounced. Instantly, I’m prickly, but my ass stays rooted to the sofa.
She’s safe. I’ll wait. My read on the situation could be off. This isn’t my typical op. And, as far as protective details go, this one’s spiraled into fucked all territory.
“I’m going to change.” She walks right by me to the stairs. “Then we have to talk.”
“Roger that,” I say to her retreating back.
I flick the show back to mute. Normally, I love that show, and this episode is a classic, but the noise irritates me, which makes little sense, as I’m not in the field. There’s no danger lurking. I don’t need to keep an ear out for an approach or a chopper.
Earlier today, I gave a sitrep to Hudson and told him all’s good. My risk assessment had been low immediate risk, but when pushed, I told him the company is shady as fuck, and that can put any employee with morals at risk.
Daisy reappears at the top of the stairs. She’s changed into sweats, a tee, and chunky socks. The black eyeliner and blush are gone, so I’m guessing she washed her face too. I’ve been camping out in this condo with her for weeks, and I’ve never known her to need to wash her face within minutes of walking in the door.
“Everything okay?” I ask, but hearing the words, I sound like a tool. Clearly, everything is not hunky-dory. “Did he try something with you?”
The thought of that man putting his hands on Daisy against her will unfurls something that goes way beyond protective instincts. My skin heats and itches, and a powerful urge to wrap my fingers around the suit’s throat surges.
“No. Not exactly.”
She plops down on the end of the sofa and crisscrosses her legs so both legs are on the cushion, and twists to face me.
“Let’s hear it. No need to sugarcoat it.” If he touched her…
“He knows about my connection to Reed.”
