Chapter 20
20
We set up shop on my dining room table after riding back. This session is going to be way too confidential for the office at the stable yard. I don’t even want Santi overhearing what Ava and I will be discussing. It seems crazy Rio and I kept the stakes surrounding these hacks from our own family, but I’m about to tell a woman with no identity this monumental secret. But in the most unlikely place, at the most unlikely time, this feisty redhead forced me to put down my guard.
Her parting words echo in my mind. Being on the right side. Together. I’m sure she meant on the right side of this battle at GhostEye, but my God am I starting to wish it meant more. I’d like to be on her side. To have her by mine.
Why the hell do I have to choose between having the most talented cyber engineer I’ve ever met and a woman I could call my own? I’ve never been able to get talent like hers here at GhostEye. Hell, the hacks are proof of that. And now, I have this sexy genius here, and she’s my walking, talking, human resources nightmare.
Not to mention a runaway.
I’m so fucked because I just cannot get out of this loop of indecision. I haven’t known where my emotions stand since her sweet, peachy ass came through those gates. One minute, I’m buttoned up, like I should be, the next I’m about to slip my tongue into her mouth… and more.
I could have stayed locked up behind those doors until we used each and every one of those perks.
As we type and click our mouses, her showing me her work and me showing her mine, I think about how pissed Rio will be when we talk about this. She forced my hand. And yet, this feels nothing like force and everything like choice. Ava is proving to be the ultimate teammate. She solves problems before I tell her they’re there. She’s determined to speak with actions not words. If that doesn’t earn some respect from both myself and my brother, I don’t know what will.
But what exactly is she keeping from me? For fuck’s sake, does she need me to donate a kidney or something? Kill somebody? I’ve never done that deed, but when I think of someone hurting her, the urge ignites within me.
The danger chasing her is enough she feels I might say no. Wanting to gain my trust before telling me means one thing—she needs my help, and it’s going to test me. She’s damn wise for a woman her age. I’ll give her that .
I tell her what she needs to know to help us, all about the hacks. I share everything I learned over the last year. I tell her there have been seven hacks that started eight months ago, the first one was a couple months before we put up the hacking contest she won. I tell her no demands have ever been made in all that time. I tell her Rio and I thought the first was an employee password breach, that we resolved the issue and it would turn into nothing, but that it sparked me to put up the contest. That in the subsequent months, we saw regular attacks, and that they make a geographic loop around a specific town, as if creating a bullseye.
What I don’t tell Ava is why the center, Ensenada, is so important to me.
It’s where my cousin lived. It’s where he died. Because of me.
She closes her laptop because we’ve decided to break and grab something to eat. “I just can’t stop fixating on Ensenada. If the hacker is drawing a target, we need to find out why.”
She eyes me, and her sinful gaze is laced with that intuition of hers I am both coming to hate and love at the same time. She’s so damn smart she knows I’m holding on to something.
“You really don’t know the answer to why Ensenada ?”
I close my laptop and consider how much to tell her. Everything is the only answer that comes. Telling her this story won’t be easy. Maybe I can give her a watered-down version. My body heats up just thinking about it.
I stand. “Let’s get something to eat.”
She lets out a frustrated huff but follows me to the kitchen with a sort of smile that’s full of curiosity. She knows I know the answer to why Ensenada. Keeping things from this woman is futile. Knowing her, she’ll stay up all night to dig if I don’t tell her. And it’s not as though what happened in Mexico all those years ago wasn’t public record at one point. I had the same name then as I do now. I’m surprised she hasn’t unearthed it already but then why would she look that far back and it didn’t exactly make news in the States.
I open the fridge. “I have black bean burritos or chicken, squash, and quinoa.”
She leans over my back, peering into the dim light herself for a peek. The side of her skims me and my body explodes with heat. Instantly, I’m thinking about my hips between her legs.
If I affect her the same way, she doesn’t let on. “Wow, that’s one organized fridge.”
“Clean space, clear mind.”
She bumps herself into me, sparking off every inch of my skin. It takes a lot of restraint not to grab her by the waist and throw her up on my countertop.
“Hey, my uncle used to say that.”
Her uncle. I searched for him, too, after she told me about him at the grocery store. There weren’t many Scotts in Oregon that fit the age of a man who would have cared for her. I also found no Scotts who could have been her mother.
“Burrito, please,” she answers, finally standing up and out of my personal space.
To cool off, I imagine the disappointed glares of employees next time I go to headquarters. The humiliation of being that boss. Now that we’ve touched. Now that I know what her body feels like under my palms, I could hardly get work done sitting next to her. I was already in awe of her talent, now, I’m in awe of her beauty… the way her curves create a silhouette and her hip is a perfect cradle for my hand. She has my blood pumping .
She also has me making all sorts of excuses. It’s not like she’s working in the offices. It’s not like anybody really knows her. It’s not like it’s Debbie from payroll. Still, it’s not the man I am.
I preheat the oven, take out two glasses, and fill them with water. “Unfortunately, I only have tequila and kombucha in the house.”
She takes her glass up from the counter. “Water it is.”
Her pretty lips press against the glass, and my imagination surges toward what it would be like to have that luscious pout on my mouth. I almost had her.
I need to get on some other subject. “How are you settling in next door?”
“With such a short contract, I didn’t think settling in was a good idea.”
Three months doesn’t offer her much security. “About that. In light of the work we have today…” I search for the least harsh words to describe what’s going on. “Now that we have this…”
“Scandal?” she teases.
“I was going to say project…”
She leans onto her forearms on my counter. Her tank top drops, and two voluptuous breasts hang down. Focus, Enzo.
How the hell is she acting so normal when I’m half hard in my pants over here?
She gazes at me over her glass of water with those honey eyes. “Since you like contracts so much, it might be time to draw something up. If I reach the performance indicators on this”—she makes air quotations— “project… I want to discuss a permanent position. I mean, not that you have to house me here on the ranch, of course, but I’d love it if I make enough to pay rent and you want the house filled. No matter what, I want to stay at GhostEye.”
“I’ll extend the contract if you perform.”
Why did that sound like I’m making an exchange for something more than her cybersecurity services?
She deserves as much anyway. Though that means she’ll be my employee even longer, and if she lives here, I’ll submit myself to agony with her lean legs and freckles running around the ranch every day.
I wouldn’t want her living anywhere else though. Not knowing she has problems. Not knowing how much everyone loves her here either.
It’s impossible not to love that request, confusing as it is. “You’d want to settle on the ranch?”
“Who wouldn’t want to live here?”
“Because it’s safe?”
“That…” She twists her lips. “And you boys are just… great.”
Nice to be lumped in with everyone.
Better to change the subject because jealousy is creeping up my neck. “What would be the first thing you get for your house? When you do settle?”
The personal question catches her off guard. But besides distraction, the urge to get to know her better is real. What are Ava’s hobbies? What’s her favorite season? How would she decorate her home?
“I’ve never been able to choose home decor before…” She stands again, taking that sensual view along with her. “Art, I guess. I’d love to have some art.” She glances around. “I see you’re into your paintings and sculptures.”
“They’re mostly investments.” I put the burritos on a tray and slide them in the oven.
“Really? Are any of these from famous artists? ”
“Not that kind of investment.”
She shakes her head. “Will you ever not speak in riddles?”
She’s so damn cute with those freckled shoulders and hands in her back pockets, pushing out her breasts. And I could just crawl up those legs for days…
“Well, what kind of investments do you make, Zo?”
She uses my nickname to make me rise. And boy do I rise.
“Come with me.”
She follows me through the house and downstairs to the movie theater.
“Wow. This is so cool.”
“It’s what I do when I can’t sleep. Mostly Mexican movies or things in Spanish. Growing up, we watched movies in Spanish almost exclusively at home. My parents were hell-bent on us all being bilingual, so it was a thing. Now those movies remind me of my mom.”
“Your dad told me she was a formidable woman.”
“She was a force, for sure. My sister is a lot like her…” I type in the code on a lock pad on my storage room door.
“Oooh. You’re showing me a locked chamber?” she asks.
I open the door and switch on the light.
She gasps. “No waaaay…” She steps inside and makes a slow circle, taking in a bunch of paintings. “ Funky Pussy ? Are…” She stares at the hundreds of paintings, not knowing they’re meticulously organized by artists and year.
“All of these are Arthur’s?”
Her tank top strap falls off her shoulder. How I’d love to slide my finger up under the other and let the rest fall.
“Not all of them. I have three artists I support in Mexico, too.”
She walks along the row of paintings, marveling at what she sees. “Penelope was saying they all went in one go to a mystery buyer… that’s you?”
I shrug.
“My, my… Enzo Mendez is an angel investor.” Her flirty eyelashes flutter. “You’re really sweet behind that scowl, aren’t you?”
Heat creeps up my neck despite the temperature. I keep it cool in here for the sake of the art, and her nipples pebble in the crisp air. She wouldn’t think I was sweet if she knew how her bare shoulder is making me want to rip down the neckline of that flimsy cotton and suck on that tight bud and her perky breast right now.
“You bought all of these to support starving artists?”
I run my fingertip along the top of one of the bigger canvases. “You can take anything you want from here and hang it next door. Just don’t tell anyone how you got it.”
She picks up one of Arthur’s squids. “ Phallasea ? Pen told me about this series at Town Hall.” She appreciates his brushstrokes. “He’s pretty talented, you have to admit.”
“He is.” I scratch my head. “But it’s a niche market.”
She laughs, and I love that sound coming from her mouth because of me.
“Can I really have one?”
I step closer to her, smelling that cedarwood cologne of hers. “Have as many as you like.” I examine the one she’s looking at now. It’s a red dick-shaped squid on a green background. “Arthur was classically trained, you know.”
“I don’t know much about art but I’d say even though the theme isn’t necessarily getting into the MoMa, the quality is there.” She holds the painting in front of her and tilts her head. Her hair cascades down her bare arm. “I’ll take this one. And hang it at the end of my bed.” She wiggles her eyebrows .
Her lightness of being is part of why this woman has a glowing aura about her. How does she do it? I know she’s been through something traumatic, hell, she’s still going through it.
“I need to tell you something.” My words hardly come out, they’re so quiet it’s like my mouth hasn’t quite caught up with the idea of confessing something so personal, but I have to. If not for me, then for the sake of the hacks. I can’t be the reason she fails. I can’t be the reason she can’t prove herself and I finally get to know how I can protect her in return.
Ava wants to stay here. She wants to prove her worth. And me keeping my past in the past is exactly what would stop her from getting what she wants. I’ve never spoken about this out loud with anyone. I was paralyzed after it happened, and it took a number of years afterward to finally find a therapist.
My mouth goes dry; my tongue is sandpaper.
She puts the painting down and sets an attentive gaze on me.
The thought of confiding in her makes it hard to even stand. It’s both because I haven’t told this story in full to anyone but the police at the time, my therapist, and God. I know Ava is compassionate, it’s clear in how intently she listens to people, how inclusive she is. But will this change how she looks at me? Will she think I’m damaged? Or worse, irredeemable?
As if reading my state perfectly, she heads out of the room and toward the cinema. “Come on. Let’s sit.”
She throws her body into the corner of one of the loveseats, and when she bends her knee up onto the cushion, her shorts ride up ever farther, showing that toned thigh of hers. She pats the cushion next to her .
I sit and mirror her position so we face each other. The weight of uncertainty and apprehension bears down on me. I’m only telling Ava something she could eventually discover herself. But through my words, this isn’t just some newspaper article in the archives in black and white. It’s a vivid, living memory that drives my every action. It’s the moment my life’s purpose was created. And it’s why I know there’s evil lurking on every doorstep just waiting to fuck things up.
“You know I didn’t tell you about the hacks because we don’t want it to go public and risk investment.”
“I get it. You have my word it won’t get out.”
“But…” my pulse quickens, “that’s not the only reason I didn’t want to talk about it with you.”
She lifts her eyebrows.
“I used to have family in Ensenada.”
Used to . Tiny daggers slice through my lungs thinking of used to . I take a deep breath.
“When I was in my teens, our parents sent us boys to stay one summer with relatives in Mexico, where my parents lived before immigrating. Dad inherited his uncle’s ranch in New Mexico. My parents had a shotgun wedding and moved to the States when they were nineteen. But like many living away from their culture, it’s important to pass down language, customs… they wanted us to understand our roots.”
I can still smell how different the air was in Ensenada. I grew up in a landlocked state so the change was remarkable. The sea was fresh and invigorating just as the mountains were, but so different.
“We had cousins there, and one the same age as me and Rio. We were fourteen at the time. ”
My cousin’s huge smile enters my mind along with the worn t-shirt that had Bill Gates’ mugshot on it from when he ran a stop sign. My cousin was full of life. Full of hope and humor.
“His name was Diego.”
Powerful guilt creeps around me like ancient vines and grip my lungs. This is why I don’t talk about it. It hurts too much. But Ava’s warm, amber gaze keeps me talking.
“They didn’t send our sister because our parents knew it was not the safest place. We were older than her… from the minute we arrived, I knew we weren’t in Starlight Canyon anymore. There were lots of rules and places you shouldn’t go, people you shouldn’t talk to, things you shouldn’t wear. On so many levels my parents were right to send us there and learn that not everywhere in the world is the same as the States. It opened our eyes, made us more grateful. I guess Mom and Dad wanted to force some appreciation.”
That trip forced me to do a lot of things—namely grow up mighty fast.
“At first, I was really careful and cautious, but as time went on, I got used to the way it was down there and grew in confidence and familiarity.”
I drop my chin.
I got too comfortable.
I swallow shame down with a large stone in my throat. “Santi, Gabriel, and Rio liked driving out to the vineyards to work with our aunt and uncle. But I became really close with Diego who kept the convenience store they owned open in the neighborhood for his parents. There we talked all day about nerdy shit. There were very few customers… for me, Diego was a kindred spirit. Back home it was all horses and bulls and roping. Don’t get me wrong, that’s my th ing, too, but it was the first time I really hung out with a guy my age who liked computers and coding. He was a really smart guy.”
A humorless laugh leaves my lips. “That summer, we came up with an idea for a business together and we were going to be like Batman. Using tech to fight evil. I even thought about moving down there after high school and not going to college.”
My eyebrows knit together, and I bite down on the rising emotion. “Diego told me never to open the door to the shop for anyone after five p.m.” My throat is thick, and I have to clear it. “My cousin went to the bathroom and asked me to lock up. It was four fifty-eight. A man came to the door, maybe he was in his early twenties. He didn’t look dangerous when he asked to come in as I was about to lock up. He said his grandma was diabetic and needed juice…”
Ava puts her hand on my leg and gives me a warm squeeze.
“But he was there to collect el cobro de piso…”
“Extortion…” she whispers.
“Instantly, the man put a gun to my head, demanding money. The guy was totally wild, almost seemed on drugs or something. Diego came out, holding a gun, too… I was in shock. My cousin had a pistol. This other guy had a barrel pressed into my forehead.”
That moment in time is frozen as if a photograph in my mind but back then, it didn’t feel like real life. Even now it’s hard to believe it was mine.
“Diego said he didn’t have the money, that his parents weren’t back with their cash from the vineyard yet. I had no idea they were paying this every week I was there…” I can hardly get the words out now any more than I could then.
“The shouting was frantic, and they talked over each other… I don’t even remember what was said, but out of nowhere, the guy shot Diego in the neck. I dove for the gun when it dropped from my cousin’s hand and shot somewhere in the direction of the gangster, and he ran. There was so much blood…” I’m getting sucked back in to the darkness. “It was…”
“A lot for a fourteen-year-old.” Ava places a hand gently on my cheek, bringing me back to reality. “Enzo…”
I blink hard, knowing that sting of tears well. I had to grit my teeth and clench my fists to hold it back in so many of the years that followed. Still now, my body is tight with self-loathing.
“Diego probably brought that gun out because he was worried about me.” My words are hardly audible. “I let that man in…”
Her other hand comes to my face, and she holds my jaw with her warm, kind hands, staring into my eyes. “A man like that would have pushed past you anyway… or broken the glass.”
“Diego told me not to open the door.” My heart pounds painfully. “They never caught his killer.”
She slides her hands down my face and lays them on my shoulders, shuffling herself ever closer. “It’s not your fault that other people do the wrong thing.”
I lift my gaze to see what I’ve heard in her affirmation. She said it like a mantra. Empathy pours from the honey glow of her eyes.
She mutters, “Those are your words, not mine, right?”
“It’s not the same.”
“Is it the same that I’ve blamed myself so many times for my mom never coming back?”
My heart tears into a million pieces because I want to say it isn’t anything like my situation. But she’s right .
“The possibilities in both of our situations are infinite, Enzo. And yet we always choose the one where we made mistakes. You think if you had just shoved that door and locked it, your cousin would be here. I think if I’d just been quiet… nicer, helped more… that she never would have abandoned me. Neither of us are right. That man was as set in motion as my mom was.”
I place my hand on her forearm. God, do I want to kiss it and take away the pain that’s crept into her eyes. But she slides her hands off my shoulders and holds on to my fingertips. Our knees touch. There’s a connection here like none I’ve ever felt before.
She strokes the sensitive skin of my hand.
“You’ve made the most of a tragic situation. GhostEye… it’s Diego who’s watching?”
“I made it my mission to fulfill what he never got a chance to do.”
And a hope that one day I’ll finally feel redeemed. Though I doubt the day will ever come. Despite two therapists speaking the same words Ava just did, hers alone offer a treasure.
There’s something about meeting someone who totally understands the depth of your trauma. If I refute her, I’m only feeding her own pain and validating the lies she tells herself about her mom. Diego wasn’t my fault any more than Ava’s abandonment was hers. Perhaps if I can one day just believe this simple statement, life will change.
I sure want hers to.
There’s something so deserving of a person who works for it. Ava is the kind of person who is paying it forward, whose grit deserves to be rewarded. With so many people seeking handouts in the world, she’s only asked for a chance to prove herself .
Our fingertips linger; I no longer know if she’s holding me or I’m holding her, but feelings are shifting quickly. The silence that passes between us is comfortable, ravenous and protective all at the same time.
I’m falling.
And I don’t even want to catch myself.