Chapter 12
Twelve
Ava
“It’s nice to meet you,” I nod to the man and the. . . robot screen. “I’m Ava.”
Dagen gestures to the robot screen first, completely bypassing the man. “Otto?”
The mask within the static moves, giving it a 3D rendered appearance that’s almost creepy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” a voice says from the static. “You can call me Otto.”
“Just Otto?” I ask, frowning. “What exactly do you do?”
“Otto is a hacker,” Dagen says when he takes his own seat again. “You may have heard of him by his handle, OTTO_BOT. I should—”
“Shut up!” I say, my eyes widening. “You’re OTTO_BOT?”
The mask moves and I almost think he’d be blushing if I were able to see his face. As it is, I can’t see anything at all. His identity is completely hidden by the mask and the static. “Yeah,” he answers. The single word has a timidness to it, strangely.
“I’ve legit heard so much about you! The Department of Defense hack?
Where you made the image of the president dancing the tango with the Secretary of Defense during the presidential address as a protest of war?
That was gold!” I gush, smiling brightly.
When Dagen had said he had connections, I never assumed it would be such a high profile and highly wanted hacker.
Of course, it shouldn’t surprise me. Fox Industries is the most successful security company in the world right now.
It would make sense for him to be in contact with a world-renowned hacker.
“It’s nothing really,” Otto replies. “Just some back doors they forgot to close.”
“As you’ll find, Otto is very humble,” Dagen says.
“And also very anonymous for good reason. No matter what you tell him about his success, he won’t believe it.
Trust me, I’ve tried.” There’s laughter in his eyes that tells me he genuinely likes the mysterious man that clearly neither one of us are going to meet in person.
The robot tablet is a nice touch though.
When Dagen turns to the other man, that fondness dies and I get the feeling he’s less impressed by this one. “Our other associate is Wylan Hearst.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hearst.”
I hold my hand across the table to shake his, grateful that at least he’s not a robot.
He looks at my hand for a second before standing and leaning over, his hand sliding into mine.
Instead of shaking it, however, he turns my hand and kisses my knuckles, his eyes meeting mine and making my stomach flip. Oh, wow.
“Just Wylan, love,” he replies in a posh British accent. “Mr. Hearst is my father, and he’s a right wanker.”
“Oh! You’re from England,” I say stupidly. He flashes his teeth at my words but doesn’t call out my uncreative response. “What do you do, Wylan?”
“I thought you’d never ask, love,” he purrs. He leans in and whispers, “I’m a hitman.”
“A. . . what?” I gasp, looking sharply at Dagen. “I don’t want to kill him!”
Wylan tenses and scowls over at Dagen. “You said you needed me for a hit, Foxxie.”
“Of a sort,” Dagen answers, waving away his words. “You’re being paid heavily to be here. What I need you to do is irrelevant.”
“Aye, you’re right,” Wylan replies. “As long as my checks come in, I’m fine. A bit of peace won’t be so bad.”
I frown, realizing suddenly that I hadn’t thought that far ahead. We’d never discussed money. “I’m sorry, but I can’t afford your services. I don’t think I can afford either one of you,” I admit, glancing over at the robot. “I. . . I should have asked before—”
“I have plenty of money,” Dagen says, shaking his head. “No one is asking you to pay.”
I wince. “I really can’t ask—”
“Then don’t,” he grunts. At my look, he sighs. “Ava, you asked for my help. Now don’t get upset at the way I do so. I found us a team. I’m footing the bill. It’s hardly a drop in the ocean of money I have, and remember, this is purely for my entertainment.”
I narrow my eyes. “I get you’re a CEO and you’re used to being bossy, but I’m not helpless. Also, a warning next time before men with a bunch of boxes show up to my house would be nice.”
He grins. “Oh, you’re far from helpless,” he nods. “Resourceful, strong, and beautiful.” I tense at his words, heat climbing into my cheeks. “And incapable of accepting a compliment. Which means I’ll be doing it more often to fluster you. Call it a character flaw on my part.”
Wylan rolls his eyes. “Have you already fucked her? Or are you just planning to?”
I scowl over at him despite the pleasure I get at hearing him speak. “No. I’m not fucking anyone, and if I was, it’s none of your business.”
Wylan narrows his eyes on me. “It’s a little bit my business if I’ve been lured into this torrid plan of not killing anyone.”
I run a hand down my face, already exhausted. I glance at the robot. “Please tell me you’re sane at least.”
He shrugs in the static. “I’m breaking laws just by being here.”
I sigh and lean back in my seat. I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with all of this, but Dagen is right.
He’s footing the bill. I asked for his help for a reason, and I can’t curtail him now.
He’s going to help whether I like it or not.
Otto and Wylan are so far from who I assumed we’d be working with, but I can’t say I’m disappointed.
Where Otto seems shy and reserved, Wylan feels like anarchy.
Though he’s dressed in a black t-shirt and black ripped jeans right now, he feels as if he should be dressed in a more punk rock style.
Tattoos cover his body where I can see, his arms crawling with ink.
His bright honey eyes are rimmed with black eyeliner, and despite being dressed so simple, he looks like he belongs on a stage.
The black combat boots and the messy black hair certainly lend to the illusion.
“Is this room safe to speak freely?” I ask, glancing over at Dagen. At his nod, I sigh. “Okay, I’ll admit I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to revenge plans. I’m not really sure how a hacker and a hitman can help. How do we begin?”
“A hacker, a hitman, and a billionaire walk into a bar,” Wylan laughs.
“Sounds like the start of a bad joke.” He leans back in his chair and goes to put his boot up on the table.
Dagen shoots him a glare and he ultimately settles for just leaning his chair back instead, his lip pouting out like a child.
“Lucky for you, crumpet, I know a thing or two about revenge.”
The screen flickers as the static disappears and information starts flickering across the screen too fast for me to read it.
Suddenly, the robot screen makes sense. “I read over the file Dagen sent. Your plan is a good start. I like the idea of taking him down in distinct categories. It’s very Mean Girls of you. ”
I flush. “It seemed fitting since I’ve been. . . personally. . . victimized,” I finish lamely, suddenly embarrassed.
“I like it,” Otto says. “It’s a good start.”
“Aye! I didn’t know we had homework,” Wylan complains, glaring at the robot. “Where’s this folder?”
“Right in front of you,” Dagen says, rolling his eyes. “It’s hardly important anyway for you to know the entire plan. You’ll have specific tasks for this process.”
“Ricardo McCoy,” Otto says, and I can hear him tapping away on his keyboard in the background. “Thirty-six. Born in Florida, currently living in California. COO of Aria Tech. Married to Ava McCoy. One child, Elsie McCoy. Net worth of two and a half million.”
“What?” I gasp, nearly falling out of my chair. “Did you say two and a half million?”
Otto hums. “That’s including stock, assets, and the offshore account he has. If I look deeper, I might find more accounts, but this is the most common account I’ve encountered. Not very secure. I could drain it without much effort.” The robot screen turns toward Dagen. “Want me to do that?”
“Not yet,” Dagen says, his eyes on me. “Ava, why does that number surprise you? You’re married to him. Surely you know about his assets.”
I swallow. “It doesn’t matter—”
“I think it matters when we’re all here to plot his revenge,” he interrupts. “Wylan and Otto should know what we’re fighting against.”
For the first time since I’ve arrived here, I look down, refusing to meet any of their eyes. I’d given Dagen the barest of facts, and I hadn’t come here intending to reveal anymore. But they all wait patiently. Dagen is right. They should know why they’re here.
“I don’t know how much he’s worth because. . . well, I never saw his accounts. He just put money into a shared account for me and Elsie each week. I was expected to use the money in there for groceries, to cook dinner for the week, pack Elsie’s school lunch, and give her breakfast.”
“How much did he give you?” Otto asks softly.
“A hundred a week,” I admit. “And sometimes, he spent it himself under the guise of forgetting it was for us.”
Wylan curses. “That’s hardly enough for one person to live on in the sticks, let alone on the west coast, let alone two bloody people. Even I know that.”
“There wasn’t much left over after making sure Elsie was taken care of,” I admit.
“When I brought that up to him, that I wasn’t eating, but one meal a day to make sure she was eating, he told me it was good for me, that I’d lose weight.
” I shrug. “I assumed Aria Tech wasn’t doing well.
I’m no stranger to struggle. But. . . to realize he had so much money the entire time is. . .” I blow out a puff of air.
“Fuck,” Wylan finally says after my words, and I glance up at him. “Don’t worry, crumpet. We’ll make him pay for that.” He looks over at the robot. “Drain that wanker’s offshore account, hacker boy.”
I can’t see an expression on Otto’s face with his mask, but I imagine he scowls. I can feel his irritation coming through the screen. “Fox?” When Dagen nods his head, Otto hits a key on his keyboard, the sound echoing around us. “Done.”
“Just like that?” I ask.
“Just like that,” he repeats. “We can also tip off the IRS and the FBI about his other assets when we’re ready. If that’s something you’d like to do.”
“Wow,” I breathe.
Dagen leans forward and meets my eyes. “How badly do you want him to hurt, Ava?”
“Well. . . I don’t want him to die—”
“That’s not what I asked,” he says, his expression serious.
I bite my lip, considering his words. “More than he hurt me,” I admit softly. “I want him to leave us alone, to never consider coming after me or Elsie again.”
Dagen smiles and it’s the most dangerous smile I’ve ever seen. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he says, pride in his voice.
Something inside me sits up at attention, like he’d just patted me on the head and called me a “good girl.” That’s more dangerous than his smile.
But he’s looking away before I can lose myself completely in his eyes, so I look over at Wylan instead.
He doesn’t wear the same pride. His expression says it’s better that Ric die, but that wouldn’t make me any better and I have a daughter looking up to me.
Still, I’ll do what I have to in order to protect her.
That’s all I care about. If at the end of all this, he has to die. . .
My chest tightens, but I’m not afraid. Not when I’m sitting in a room with Dagen Fox, an assassin, and Otto_Bot. Never would I have thought I’d find myself in this position.
And I don’t hate it. Fuck me, I don’t hate it at all.