CHAPTER 1
Remy
The rain is doing that thing where it can’t decide if it wants to drizzle or commit to a full-on downpour, so it hovers somewhere in between annoying and indecisive, like my last relationship.
I pull my rain jacket tighter and duck under the awning of Antonio’s. The mysterious interview is at a restaurant I’ve always wanted to try out, but my budget never allowed it.
Apparently, someone thinks I’m worth the investment.
But the email had been cryptic.
Interview.
Tuesday, 7 p.m.
Antonio’s.
Ask for Sadie.
No company name. No job description. An NDA that made my lawyer friend whistle low and tell me,“Either this is the opportunity of a lifetime, or you’re about to become an accomplice to illegal activity.”
Given my current circumstances, I’m almost willing to risk the felony. Almost.
I push through the door and step into warmth and the scent of expensive food. A hostess in a black dress appears immediately.
“Miss Ray?” At my nod, she smiles. “Right this way. Sadie is expecting you.”
I follow her through the restaurant.
We stop at a door near the back. She knocks twice, then opens it.
The woman sitting at the table looks like she could run a Fortune 500 company or a small country with equal efficiency. She’s older, maybe late seventies, with stylish silver hair swept back from her face.
She rises and extends a hand, with her calculating eyes fixed on me. “Remy Ray. I’m Sadie. Thank you for coming.”
She doesn’t give her last name.
Her handshake is firm, confident, and I like her immediately.
“Thank you for the… mysterious invitation?” I manage. “I have to admit, the lack of details is either very intriguing or very concerning.”
She laughs, a genuine sound that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “Forgive me. In my experience, some conversations are better had in person.” She motions to the chair across from her. “Please, sit. I took the liberty of ordering wine. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
I sink into a chair and try not to look as out of place as I feel. My black pants are clean, at least, and my boots are only a little scuffed. Of course I wanted to dress up, but I did the best I could with what I had available in my closet.
Sadie pours deep red wine into my glass. “I imagine you’re wondering why you’re here.”
I take a sip. It’s really good. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
“I have a job for you. One that requires someone with your particular skill set.” She leans back, studying me. “You’re an ethical hacker. One of the best, from what I understand. You’ve exposed vulnerabilities in systems from universities to banks, always with permission, and always within legal boundaries.”
My stomach tightens. Always ethical, but not alwayslegal. Instead, I say, “Thorough homework. Should I be flattered or concerned that you know my professional history better than I do?”
“I’m always thorough.” Her knowing smile appears. “I’m aware of your recent… difficulties. With your former employer, Dustridge Industries. And you’ve also had a pretty recent break-up. Quite tumultuous, from what I understand.”
And there it is. The part where we address whether I’m too damaged to be useful.
