Chapter 3
3
When I arrive at the gate of Monarch Hills, I’m met by two armed guards, geared up like they’re patrolling the gates of the White House rather than the personal estate of a bunch of businessmen. They wear Army fatigues, and both exceed six feet. They fill in their uniforms with broad shoulders, and one has his sleeves rolled up, forearms popping with veins. The blond one wears aviators, and the other has irises as dark as the hair on his head. These men are intimidating, and I doubt anyone even wants to deliver a pizza here let alone arrive as a girl carrying trouble on her shoulders.
My cheeks burn beyond the pink already in them from my hot walk here thinking about having to get through these guys.
My gaze wanders the length and depth of a brick wall with cameras dotted along it; the gates behind the guards must be twelve feet high. It’s probably still not enough security. The value of the brains behind these walls is priceless. I can only imagine how much pleasure it would give criminals to eliminate the heads of GhostEye. Especially Enzo. He’s a tech superhero. I’ve been following him for a long time now through tech blogs and I don’t think there’s a man on the planet I admire more.
Enzo and Rio Mendez brought true good into this world, and I might be leading danger right to their doorstep. The Mendez brothers and their company fight the worst online crime rings. I don’t know what Father does, but he wouldn’t want heroes like them in the world.
I breathe deeply and remind myself I made a clean break. Father had no idea I entered the contest. Anton neither.
I draw nearer, the sight of AK-47s, tall and ominous, lean against the gate house behind, making my mouth instantly dry. My heart races. My lungs start to heave in air as if it’s thin. I have to keep it together… I have to. These men aren’t here to hurt me…
“Name.”
The guard’s deep voice gives me something to hold on to as I spiral. Just look at the guard. Not at the gun. The two guards stare at me, waiting for me to speak. They aren’t patient. But the sight of the guns has absolutely paralyzed me and takes my mind back to Father’s basement. I focus on my senses. One thing I can see… a tree. One thing I can hear… a bird .
“Name,” the blond one repeats his question, but it’s more of an instruction.
I have to pull it together. Finally, I focus on a cool breeze that brushes across my skin, and my heart rate slows.
“Ava Scott.” I swallow thickly. “I spoke to Santiago Mendez yesterday about arriving here…”
He puts up his hand to stop me from talking, making it clear that no explanation matters. Just my name on the list. The guard’s eyebrows pinch together while he inspects a clipboard with a piece of paper on it.
It’s not a very high-tech check-in system for someone like Enzo Mendez to have at the gate of his personal property. Then again, sometimes a written piece of paper, never to be duplicated or traced, is the best—a time-tested form of security. I used this method many times myself in the library.
His finger skims down the page in what feels like slow motion. How many names are on that paper? Oh God, please, please let my name be on the list. Please, Santiago. Pull through for me.
I never would have gotten away if Father found out about this contest. Time was not on my side. I needed one of the Mendez brothers to put my name on that list. What I found online led me to my phone call with Santiago.
Enzo, from his clean digital footprint, was far too considered and controlled to grant me my job overnight. Though Enzo or one of his direct reports is most likely to be my boss, he would have never given me a haphazard yes to an abrupt and early arrival.
Rio is the chief exec at GhostEye, and as such, keeps an even busier lifestyle than his workaholic twin. I didn’t approach him because it was likely he wouldn’t even check my request in a timely fashion .
Gabriel Mendez is often away and didn’t work at GhostEye, he’s not anywhere near available enough for a last-minute request, and from his lack of personal connections online, not the friendly type.
That left Santiago. The bad-boy brother is only at GhostEye as a shareholder, not a decision-maker. Online, the man is a mess. That he isn’t careful at all despite his connection to software that make these men targets means Santiago Mendez isn’t simply carefree, no, he is reckless.
When I called him from a hacked number in the library, Santiago’s voice oozed sex appeal and charm through my headphones, and despite me being a stranger, he treated me like I wasn’t one. It was surprisingly easy to get him to say I could arrive today. It was almost like he wanted me here now as much as I wanted it and he assured me they “had me covered.”
But how many damn names are on that list?
The guard finally stops his finger gliding along the paper on the clipboard. “ID.” He holds out his hand.
“Sure.” I dig in the front pocket of my backpack for the only thing linking me to a woman I can’t wait to truly become. I pull out my student identification card.
He peers down at it without taking it. “I’m going to need a government-issued ID. Driver’s license. Or passport.”
Shit. I don’t have either… Panic rises up my throat and burns on the apples of my cheeks. I look inside my bag again, dig around, trying not to appear agitated and set off alarm bells. Maybe I can find the printed certificate of winning the contest as proof? Would that even help? Shit. Shit. Shit…
“She’s clear, gentleman.”
At the sound of a deep male voice, husky, like it’s rarely used, I glance up at the man I’ve read about hundreds of times. Enzo Mendez. The pictures on tech blogs do not do him justice. He is… hot.
“Miss Scott?” The sound of his voice saying my name breaks the spell I’m under.
“I… uh… yes. Hi.” I extend my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
He takes my hand in his to shake it. He stares at me right through those glasses of his, like a tall, dark and handsome Clark Kent, taking stock, I’m sure. I can’t help but examine him, too. Not that I cared what he looked like, Enzo is the kind of man you respect for his integrity and brilliance, but for the first time in my life, I might be getting a taste of what lust is.
I’ve never quite felt this exact kind of tingle before. It’s inappropriate. It’s weird timing. And he is a hell of a lot older than I am. A guy like Enzo with all his experience in this world surely wouldn’t look at me the same way I’m looking at him right now.
What the hell am I even thinking? Deep breath. It’s normal that after having zero contact with men that the first super attractive one would set me off. Not that I’d ever act on it for so many reasons—I need his help and wouldn’t want to mess that up for one.
I’ve been dying to feel the touch of a man for many years now but I would never risk my freedom for it.
It is only normal for anyone to admire this man. What I’ve read in his interviews, he might not be outgoing or full of sunshine but he’s a man of integrity. Noble. Like a knight. Someone with a true purpose in life.
I want to find some sense of reason in my life like Enzo has. I want freedom. And I never want to think anyone else out there should have to live without it. Maybe I’ll take down my father one day. But if not, I’ll take down someone else’s. GhostEye isn’t just on my path to freedom and my quest to take down criminals. It’s the destination.
He gestures to my backpack. “Is this all you have?”
I search his words for suspicion, but he’s hard to read.
I grip the strap. “Yeah.”
“Here…” He reaches out to take my bag.
Instinctively, I flinch but quickly compose myself. “I got it.”
His words are tempered, a sort of command. “I won’t let a lady carry her bag.” He places his hand into the air between us, palm up.
Something inside me stirs, threatening to melt completely at his gesture. I’ve always wanted friends. I’ve always wanted someone who would carry my bag just to relieve my shoulders rather than so I didn’t run with it. Not that he’s befriending me. I know Enzo was raised by rancher parents and I guess this is that cowboy chivalry in motion.
I oblige and hand my backpack over. “Thank you.”
We sweep past the guards. I follow his broad shoulders and muscular backside through the winding paths of the sanctuary of well-thought-out plants and rock gardens. I welcome the patches of shade dotted along the private road we walk. It’s relaxing here, something of a desert sanctuary, not that this is the desert, but it certainly felt like El Camino Drive was paved through one on my way here.
When we reach his Spanish-style house, Enzo finally turns and offers me a wordless glance and a thin-lipped expression that I can only interpret as disapproving, then turns his attention to his keypad. His demeanor is nothing like the one Santiago greeted me with on the phone. Enzo is stern, serious, and all about the business.
He shields a keypad and types in a code with tanned fingers. I listen intently to the tones. But knowing this man, he’ll have a keypad that changes the location of the numbers every time it’s used, and simple cracks are an impossible task.
It was my luck he left one for me to slip through at GhostEye. The odds were so small that someone as iconic and talented as Enzo Mendez would leave a breach in his system. So when it happened, I couldn’t help but feel GhostEye is my destiny.
But by the look on Enzo’s face, he doesn’t agree.