Chapter 6
6
I’ve been holed up in this house for one whole day, and it looks like I’m going on two, not daring to go outside. I was able to pass quite a bit of time on the computer Enzo had dropped off, but mostly, I’ve divided my time between eating the last of my stash of protein bars, rotting as a voyeur on social media, and creating and deleting PowerPoint slides over and over again. I also fended off a few prying emails from Debbie, which, nerve-wracking as it was, makes her a quality employee.
The only achievement I made in the many hours since being at GhostEye was being able to clone an employee in cybersecurity. If Enzo won’t give me access, I’ll need to take it myself. When I ask Enzo for help, I need balance between us.
Enzo is going to have to not only want me here. He’ll have to need me.
For an hour or two my small win was enough to make me forget about how I’m inside this house worried about leaving on my own.
I should go outside. Anton always made me get out and walk. If the weather was bad, we’d go to the gym. I’m used to moving because Anton struggled to stay still.
But here I am, trying to get in my twenty thousand steps in what I guess is about five thousand square feet. When I peek outside the curtains, I wish I could bring myself to do it out there, but now that freedom is at my feet, from within the safest environment a girl like me could land in, I’m surprised how hard it is to make my palm reach for that door handle.
I don’t really remember a time when I walked around alone, unguarded. Never have I had a moment in fourteen years where I truly chose what to do, where to go, when to do it. I thought being free would be like skydiving, light as a bird, but I forgot to imagine the part where I stand at the edge of the plane, door open with ten thousand feet of open space below me wondering if my parachute would open.
My shoulders are weighed down with indecision. What will I say if I come across someone I don’t know? Rio lives here, though he’s mostly gone. Enzo is a house over, and Santi behind his. I could walk over to the stables, but it’s not like I can strike up a conversation about horses.
When I asked the guard who lived in the other two houses, he told me Gabriel was gone most of the time. Despite how intimidating I found the guard upon arrival, he was surprisingly friendly in offering information on Luis, the Mendez papa who is as new to Echo Valley as I am.
Apparently, when his sons realized settling near Silicon Valley was a good idea for business, just after Rio and Enzo graduated from college, they slowly built this ranch complex with having their whole family here in mind. The guard said they have been trying to get Luis to give up the ranch back home and retire here for a few years. Luis finally took the leap. Maybe he would be a good first friend? I could always stop by… empty-handed? Is that rude?
Turns out I don’t know shit about manners and social etiquette.
I spent all these years wanting to be out in the world, but now that it’s there, I can’t help thinking about not messing up
To top off the list of possible mess-ups, I haven’t made much progress on my presentation. I mean, what was Enzo thinking giving me such a task? As a coder himself, he knows how precious it is to teach someone your secrets. He might as well have given me a token job because I’m feeling useless. I’m never going to be able to earn his trust, or him to earn mine, by doing some goddamn PowerPoint.
The help I need from Enzo is huge. I can’t just waltz in here with a monumental request like mine without showing him there’s something in it for him. I had to earn rewards all the time I was at Father’s. Time watching TV, a new jump rope, a weighted blanket… whatever I wanted only came to me after giving something first. Humans aren’t benevolent. You have to give before you get.
And what I want requires a much bigger exchange than even teaching my coding to Enzo’s cybersecurity team.
I need Enzo to help me change my birth certificate and figure out how to legally keep the records sealed. It will require a lawyer. Possibly more money than he’s paid me. Moreover, the possibility of Father using me to commit cybercrime over the years hasn’t escaped me. For all I know I’m a criminal, though I’ve never been able to find my real name anywhere online but the births and deaths registry.
That says nothing though. Father controlled my entire view of the outside world. How could I know for sure that some of my tasks with my teachers weren’t actually contributing to criminal activity?
I’ve convinced myself Father was a cartel leader. Most of my teachers were from central or South America. Guns all around, guarding something. Was his compound a drug factory? What did he keep there that needed protecting? He had a whole organization of people, acres and acres of land. I’d be foolish to think I was there for such a long time and serving no purpose.
I was obviously part of some grand plan. Why train me? Teach me? Keep me so damn securely? I believed Anton when he said I was precious to Father. Nobody loses something precious and stops looking for it.
That basement taught me that people who betrayed Father and no longer served a purpose were put to rest. He was powerful enough to make men kill without him even having to be there. But why didn’t he ever show his face? Why did Father never come meet me? Was I really so important if he didn’t even need to talk to me?
No matter what, I’m not taking any risks if he wants me back. If my birth certificate change isn’t sealed, I could be found, and freedom with fear isn’t freedom. I could forge documents instead but then how could I work on criminal investigations here at GhostEye without fearing I’d be outed myself one day. I need to do this right. Legally.
I walk back over to the desk Enzo graciously had delivered. It’s actually a really nice one. A standing desk. He sent everything I needed to not work hunched over. Gifts only someone who spends a lot of time in front of a computer would understand are gold.
Damn is that man frustrating. One minute I’m working hard not to let my mind wander to how his muscular, corded neck would smell if I were to plant a kiss on it, the next, I want to wrap my hands around it. All I need is a real job. A real chance to pay it forward. I only have a three-month contract.
I can’t leave here without getting his help.
I dart my eyes to the ceiling and let out a rough, annoyed sigh. Why would he even bother to hold a contest if he’s not going to use the opportunity?
It sucks as much as knowing my next meal will be another salted caramel ProZone bar.
Pacing up and down the Spanish tiles for the thousandth time, I pluck up courage to go next door and ask Enzo why he has to be such a hard-ass, when the doorbell rings. I glance up at the door. I hope it’s not a guard again.
I peek out of the spyhole.
Holy shit. It’s Enzo.
I undo the chain and open the door. “Hi.”
Damn. He’s dressed differently from the other day, and my stomach drops. A black t-shirt, jeans, and a western belt buckle. Oof. He must have been a sight for sore eyes back in his cowboy youth. It’s hard to keep being mad at my boss when he doesn’t look like one anymore. I wish someone had prepared me for the whiplash a sexy man can cause.
“I’m going to the grocery store. I thought you’d like to get off the ranch and get some supplies.” His gaze rakes over me from top to bottom as if dusting for clues. “And get some fresh air.” His deep, husky voice has a lilt of judgement to it .
I throw my hand on my hip. “I’m working.” I’m not. But maybe it could be a segue.
“ Are you working?”
I narrow my eyes, but he receives my expression as though I’ve just told him he’s right.
I peek past him and notice he left his Land Rover running. I tip my head toward his car. “Guess you assumed I’d say yes.”
“Is there a reason you don’t want to go?”
I really want to go.
When I passed through the town yesterday on the way here, it struck me as a peaceful place, not short on character. I wanted to stop in everywhere—the café, the outdoor bookstore with a hammock, and the tack and feed shop where people stood outside talking about God knows what because I’ve never been allowed a pet. What do people talk about outside a feed shop? Kibble? Fleas? I want to know. Even the thought of a mundane conversation with a stranger is exhilarating. I’ve only done it once now, and it gave me goosebumps.
Two nights ago on the bus, I talked to an older lady who couldn’t sleep. She told me all about her granddaughter she was going to visit and all the ways she was proud of the little swimmer. I heard about the girl’s achievements and honors and how she learned how to swim before she could tie her shoes. In the single dim light we left on between us, I watched that grandma’s cheeks glow with pride and her smile swell with love. I don’t even know that grandma’s girl, but it was a beauty I felt honored to witness. A beauty I’ve never felt and I doubt anyone has ever felt about me.
For a brief moment in that conversation, I let a crack of hope slip through that my mom, or Anton, might have felt that way about me. It’s silly to even think about such things, they change nothing about who I am.
But you can’t hold a sunrise either, and it doesn’t make me chase them any less. My life isn’t over. There’s still time to feel that love.
Enzo puts his arm up on the doorframe like he’s not leaving until I do. “You need to get out.”
I’m sure he’s been watching me, though he’s had the decency not to leave cameras in the house. I know because I checked.
I goad him. “How do you know I haven’t been out?”
How much would it take to get a rise out of this man? He’s so damn steady. So damn confident and mysterious behind those glasses and that sexy scowl. What would it take to see those full lips quirk up at the side?
Apparently, he’s not into banter because he promptly turns on his heel.
“Sure,” I blurt before I ruin my chances of leaving and doing it with someone.
God knows I’m not taking the first step on my own.
I have to start living at some point.
The minute we leave the gates out of the ranch, my body goes into hyperdrive. My heart flutters. I’m going to town. I’m free.
Enzo has the air-con on, but I open the window a few inches anyway and lean my forehead on the glass, close my eyes, and allow the warm, wild breeze to whip the loose strands of my messy bun around on my forehead .
“Are you okay?” Enzo stares straight ahead.
I sit up and already miss the smell of the conifers we just passed. “Yeah. Why?”
“You were pressed against the window for air.”
“Funny how in movies when people roll down the window they appear whimsical and dreamy. In real life, the only reason someone might need air is because they’re sick.”
A puff escapes out of his nose, and if I didn’t know better, it was something like a laugh, though I’m met with the same stern jawline that shows me he’s not amused.
“I’m okay. I just like the way it smells here.”
He nods once which I’m pretty sure means he agrees. You need to be an expert in body language to have a conversation with this man.
I want more. Especially from him. As much as I’ll sit all day with the grannies on buses, I’m next level intrigued by the man next to me. I peek over every so often. Besides his gorgeous, strong tanned hands that would likely feel perfect around my waist and a chiseled profile that begs to be traced by my finger, I’d love to get inside his head.
I can only imagine the stories he has. Inventing this incredible software. The moment he realized he cracked through the world’s tightest masking tool for criminals online. It must have been one hell of a thrill. I know how I felt when I hacked his system. It was like my soul was on fire.
GhostEye is Enzo’s creation. Sure, without the other brothers it may not have made headlines, or even had the funding to come to life, but Enzo is the daddy. He’s the spark. GhostEye took years to develop, and from what I understand about business from stalking tech news, he must have been toiling for years without knowing if it would ever happen .
All to fight crime. All to make it harder for people to do bad things online and get away with it. All to identify and trace and find these people making our world ugly and scary. Enzo could have applied himself in hundreds of other areas and probably have been a multi-millionaire a long time ago. He has the brains to develop a new currency, to create an online monopoly of shopping networks, or do anything any other tech billionaire has done.
Why try to fight crime?
“What gave you the drive to work on GhostEye for so many years without it going anywhere?”
He flicks on his turn signal. “You said you read my article in Futureware.”
“You want me to trust a secondhand source? You wouldn’t. Why should I?”
Another puff of air. I’d love to get a real laugh one day. It’s nice to know I have any impact on him, even if just a little one.
I press. “In the article it said you have a profound sense of justice. I’d get more backstory from a Marvel comic.”
Silence is still his answer. But boy does it make me want the answer more. This moment with us? It’s like entering the most exhilarating game of chess. Will he make a move? Will I?
“Come on. Throw a girl a bone here.”
He furrows his eyebrows over those sexy black rims of his, but I’m not sure if he’s concentrating on the road or chewing on what to say.
He concedes, “Some things are better left in the past.”
He’s not wrong there. Even though I’m desperate to leave mine behind, I’ll surely lose time wondering why he wants to forget his, too.
“I agree with that.” I open the window again, farther this time so his hair flops around, too, now. “But I still want to know.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “How about you give me your story and I’ll give you mine, Ava. What brings a girl to Echo Valley, in a hurry, with only a backpack?”
I flatten my lips and put the window back up. “It’s going to be hard to get to know each other, I guess.”
“Fortunately, we don’t need to in order to have a working relationship.”
And yet here he is, taking me to the grocery store.
“So you aren’t friends with any of your co-workers? I was kind of hoping there was a good company culture here at GhostEye.”
He puts the blinker on again. “Is that what a good company culture is? Having friends at work? I thought it was allowing people to fail forward and reach their true potential.”
“Well,” I lift an eyebrow and throw him a teasing smile, even though he can’t see it, “considering the job you gave me, and us not needing to know each other, it doesn’t seem like either are happening here.”
He narrows his eyes, but not at me. The road is all he cares about. How hard do I have to press to crack this nut?
I’m desperate for friends and I see my boss doesn’t want to be one. And moreover, that he doesn’t need any. He has a big family, unlike me. My friends will be my family, and when I find them, I’ll cherish them.
Enzo doesn’t seem like he trusts people enough to make friends easily. I have every reason to be the same, and yet, I believe the good people out there outweigh the bad. We just need to get the balance of power right.
I spy the tall sign of the grocery store ahead. It occurs to me once I get milk and perishables, we’ll need to head straight back to the ranch.
“Would you mind if we go to the coffee shop or bookstore first?” Can’t hurt to ask.
“I need to get back.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Isn’t it a fundamental trait of any successful hacker? Why would you expect anything else?”
His stony expression cracks just a little; I swear the corner of his mouth quirks.
“I’m going to ride my horse tonight and like to do that before sundown.”
Enzo has been so buttoned up since meeting him. Does he wear chaps when he rides or is that just what cowboys need on long cattle drives? There are probably lots of cowboys over at the ranch at the back of the property. There is a pair of binoculars in the house, and from the second floor I was able to see the stables and pastures at the far end. No cowboys, though. Apart from Santi who sadly wasn’t wearing any chaps when I watched him through my scope.
We pull into the grocery store parking lot. It’s a small market with a very large name. Piggleton’s.
When we get out of the car, he rushes around to my side to open the door and, just as with my backpack, he shows his manners and makes searing eye contact. But even though his stare feels like he could look right through my mask, something about his presence makes me want to step closer instead of run away.
We walk from the warm humid night through a blast of cold air into the grocery store.
Enzo grabs a shopping cart. I take a basket.
“You can put everything in the cart,” he instructs me .
“Our stuff will get mixed up.”
“I’m not getting anything.”
Okay…
He pushes into the produce section without asking if that’s where I want to go. Expecting me to follow. Maybe Enzo is one of those men who’s used to people obeying his orders. Or maybe my desperate situation is pretty obvious.
I pick up a honeydew melon and smell it. “Is taking your employees grocery shopping one of the benefits at GhostEye?”
He takes the melon from me, puts it down, grabs a different one, and places it in my hands.
“If you read the contract you’d know it isn’t.”
“Is that a joke?”
Sarcasm sounds sexy in his deep, growly tone. “I wish it was.”
I lift the melon to my nose, and this one is fragrant, unlike the last. I wiggle it. “How did you know this one was better without smelling?”
“I know produce.”
“I’m a crappy cook.” I never did much of the cooking part with me and Anton. An ache pushes me to mention my friend, and I probably sound sadder than I should about food. “My… uncle used to do all the cooking. He was really good, so now that I’m on my own it’s going to suck. I have fine-dining taste and ramen noodle skills.”
He pushes the cart for me, and I put in some pre-cut carrots, peppers, and lettuce. It seems best to choose a salad where nothing can go wrong as long as I don’t slice a finger off.
I get a bunch more convenience-type items but ones that are healthier. Already cooked meats, packets of microwave rice, some TV dinners. I put blocks of cheese in the cart because Anton never seemed to buy anything but feta. And lots of frozen veggies. I can boil water. This will have to do until I watch more YouTube videos.
At the checkout line, Enzo helps me load everything on the conveyor belt while a tiny, curvaceous woman who looks a lot like Lucy Liu when she was in Charlie’s Angels gazes at Enzo just as flirtatious as Alex Munday could right before she kicked your ass. I loved that movie.
Something about the way she maintains eye contact makes my heart race. Have they dated?
I’ve not found anything online about his relationship history, but I can’t imagine a successful, gorgeous man like him lives like a monk. I shake off the uncomfortable feeling. I have no reason to be jealous, no right. He’s my boss.
She quirks the corner of her mouth. “Well hello, Mr. Mendez. Are you going to introduce me to your new friend?”
So Enzo is friendly with the checkout girl who I have to admit looks like she’s a lot more fun than him.
“My colleague actually. Ava, Penelope. Penelope, Ava.”
She reaches over to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you and to see Enzo is actually out and about with a friend.”
“Colleague,” he corrects.
“Anyway…” Produce beeps as she passes items over the scanner. “Where are you from, Ava? I’ve not seen you around.”
I decided to keep my story as close to the truth as possible so I don’t lose track. “Oregon.”
“Are you shitting me?” Her mouth drops open. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” I smile at the curious turn in her energy.
“Have you ever been to UFO fest?” She beeps my block of cheese across .
Whoa. Now I’m the one who’s excited. “I could never go but always wanted to. It looked amazing on their website.”
Enzo slowly turns his head in my direction and gives me the briefest glance upon learning something like this. I totally believe in aliens. Any sane person would.
I add, “Did you know there are more Unidentified Anomalous Phenomenon in the Northwest than anywhere in the States?”
“I know!” She shakes her head and swipes my carrots over. “Enzo, where did you find her? My sister from another mister!”
I can’t help but laugh. Penelope has no idea what her throwaway comment means to me. A stranger found something in common with me. It feels amazing.
“Where do you live? We should hang out,” Penelope says.
It’s not easy to play it cool. My first friendship invite.
“I actually live at Monarch Hills with Enzo right now.”
She raises her eyebrows like I’ve said something scandalous.
“I mean, in the empty house. Not with Enzo. He’s my boss. That would be weird.”
A naughty laugh slips. “I’d do my boss if he gave me the chance.”
Enzo lowers his head and shakes it.
“What?” she challenges him. “James is hot. He’s married, but I do love a silver fox.”
The second thing we have in common. I’ve always had a thing for older men being attractive.
She scans the last item then puts a hand on her hip. “I don’t have any evenings free because I’m filling in here for my aunt the next few nights. I normally work at the bookstore, but maybe…” She turns back to Enzo. “You should bring Ava to Town Hall.”
She addresses me again. “It’s kind of a town social gathering once a month. You’ll meet lots of people and get stuck in to the Echo Valley vibe.”
I glance at Enzo, hoping he’ll invite me, too.
He waves his hand over toward the cash register, indicating she should ring us up.
Penelope hits a button for the total. “That will be eighty-five and twenty-two cents.”
Enzo pulls his wallet from his back pocket.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He slides a black Amex out of his wallet. “I’m paying.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t signed your cash off yet.”
I would be embarrassed, but his thoughtfulness catches me off guard. It’s really… sweet. I do have some money, but he didn’t know that.
My lips twist. “I’d argue with you, but that doesn’t usually work out my way.” I grab the bag of carrots from the other side of the scanner. “But take these off the bill.”
Penelope refunds the carrots.
He gestures with his pointer finger for me to put them back through.
Penelope’s eyes shift back and forth like she’s watching a tennis match.
I want to do something nice in return. “It’s a gift. You treat me, I treat your horse.”
Penelope stares at him for a reply. It takes a moment, and eventually he nods at me as if to say thank you.
When Penelope finishes bagging up the groceries, we exchange numbers.
I’m so thrilled at having made a friend I have to force back the emotional pebble in my throat and the celebratory sting in my eyes all the way to the car. I sing to the songs on the radio all the way home, not even caring that I’m off-key and don’t know the words. I made a friend. Someone wants to meet with me and talk about aliens and… hang out.
There were countless times I mourned the loss of my teenage years. But I didn’t spill tears over the big stuff like not going to prom or learning to drive or throwing a graduation hat in the air. I mourned those years because I had no friends. I wanted to buy cheap makeup at the grocery store and put glitter on my face with my bestie before football games. I wanted to have slumber parties and save my friend by sharing a tampon under the stall in the high school bathroom.
Swapping numbers with Penelope was mundane for most. But for me, it was giving me a feeling I thought I’d lost forever.
Echo Valley is paradise.
Even Enzo declining my offer to bring his horse the carrots myself doesn’t kill my buzz.
But as I watch his tight buns in those sexy jeans saunter away from my front door, it’s impossible not to think about my teens again and one last thing I missed.