These guys are supposed to be the best. All former Special Forces, Rangers, and SEALs. One of my sorority sisters hired them a year ago to find her husband. He’d emptied her bank account and fled to Bali after the FBI hauled him in for questioning, suspecting him of selling government secrets to Russia. He was guilty as sin, but they managed to get her money back and collect enough evidence to prove she knew nothing about the spying.
At the reception desk, I offer my name, and a petite older woman with kind brown eyes shows me to a conference room and promises to return with coffee.
Oh wow. Two men rise as I approach, and my jaw drops open. The taller and older of the two wears a hint of gray at his temples and looks like he could bench press a car. The other man…black hair, glasses with reddish tinted lenses, and a strong jaw. A scar angles across his forehead, and his dress shirt molds to broad shoulders.
“Ms. Archer?” The older man extends his hand. “Ford Lawton. This is Dax Holloway, owner of Second Sight.”
Ford meets my gaze, and doubt darkens his hazel eyes as he notes my Rolex, Coach briefcase, and dusky pink manicured nails. “Evianna, please. Thank you for meeting me.”
Turning my attention to Dax, I try to cover my frown. Unlike Ford, he seems to look past me, but his grip is firm, and his voice holds a hint of a southern twang. “Have a seat, Evianna. Did you have any trouble getting here?”
“N-no. My office is only a few blocks away. I work for Beacon Hill Technologies.” I unzip my briefcase as Dax cocks his head.
“I know that name. Some big home automation solution releasing soon?”
“We’ve barely started advertising, Mr. Holloway. I’m impressed.”
He huffs—part snort, part laugh. “I’ve been following the development rumors for six months. Looking forward to picking up one of your units when they’re available.”
I shift into sales mode. “We launch in ten days with mass availability in two weeks if all goes well. I can set you up with a pre-production unit if you’re interested. You’d still need to purchase the final product, but we’re in beta testing now, and looking for testimonials.”
The receptionist knocks and pokes her head in. “Coffee?”
As she sets cups of rich, black brew in front of each of us, I pull out copies of the police report and the dozen emails Kyle’s sent me over the past few days. Fortified after my first sip, I slide the entire folder across the table towards Dax, but Ford’s the one who pulls out the papers.
“Someone threw a brick at your window?” Ford lets out a low whistle. “And you were in the room?” As I nod, Ford lays the first paper in front of Dax. “Police report,” he says quietly.
Dax sits up a little straighter, fiddles with his ear, then his glasses, and scans the report while Ford looks through the rest of the documents.
“So, you fired this…Kyle Devlin six days ago. And since then, he’s been harassing you, both at the office and at home? That about summarize it?” Ford asks.
I nod, then find my voice. “Yes. He was in clear violation of company protocol. Our non-disclosure agreements are ironclad, and he knew long before he copied our code base that it was a fireable offense.” Rubbing my arm where the bruises have almost faded, I sigh. “The first time I talked to him, he was practically pickled in tequila. But last night…err, this morning…he didn’t look drunk.”
“I don’t suppose you have cameras outside your home?” Ford asks.
Dax arches a brow at his coworker. “I’d be shocked if she didn’t. Knowing where she works.”
Setting a small USB thumb drive on the table, I smile at Dax, but his expression doesn’t change at all. He seemed so nice on the phone. Even when I walked in. But now, it’s like he doesn’t care at all. “Video from this morning.”
Ford tucks the small drive into his pocket. “We’ll take a look at this later, if that’s all right?”
“Uh, sure.” I take another sip of my coffee, unsure what else to say. “Until he threw the brick, I didn’t consider him…dangerous. I don’t know what I expect you to be able to do, but—”
“Evianna,” Ford says, “why don’t you tell me a little bit about your company. Dax might know all about it, but I don’t.”
Setting the delicate cup back on the saucer, I fold my hands in my lap. “Alfie—the female version of Alfred…like from Batman?—is the next evolution in home automation. She’s not just a digital assistant like the other devices out there. Alfie works with everything else in your home. Your thermostat, refrigerator, light switches, security system, digital calendar…everything.”
Ford chokes on a sip of his coffee. “Like…a robot?”
“You have to listen to Wren more,” Dax says. Resting his fingers on the top of the conference table, he slides them slowly toward one another until he clasps the mug. Odd ritual. But damn. His hands are twice the size of mine. Knuckles that look like they’ve been broken a time or two.
“Evianna?” he asks when I’m quiet for way too long.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep much last night.” Swallowing hard, I hope the blush to my cheeks isn’t too obvious. At least Dax didn’t seem to notice me staring at him. “No, Mr. Lawton. Alfie isn’t a robot.” I pull out one of our spec sheets from my briefcase and show him her photo. “She’s designed to sit on your countertop or on a bookshelf. With a video screen, she’s eight inches in diameter. Without, she’s only five.”
“That makes your HomeAssist clunker look ancient,” he says to Dax. “And you’re launching in ten days?”
“Yes. I…I’m worried Kyle’s escalating, but honestly…it’s more than that. If he goes public—not that he’d get much sympathy since he clearly breeched his NDA, the press could tank our launch. And if that happens…we could lose everything. We have a multi-million dollar marketing campaign ready to go and testimonies from some of the biggest names in business. Based on our preliminary in-home testing results, we have LOAs with all of the major insurance companies—”
