“Aye, you’re right,” Wylan replies. “As long as my checks come in, I’m fine. A bit of peace won’t be so bad.”
I frown, realizing suddenly that I hadn’t thought that far ahead. We’d never discussed money. “I’m sorry, but I can’t afford your services. I don’t think I can afford either one of you,” I admit, glancing over at the robot. “I. . . I should have asked before?—”
“I have plenty of money,” Dagen says, shaking his head. “No one is asking you to pay.”
I wince. “I really can’t ask?—”
“Then don’t,” he grunts. At my look, he sighs. “Ava, you asked for my help. Now don’t get upset at the way I do so. I found us a team. I’m footing the bill. It’s hardly a drop in the ocean of money I have, and remember, this is purely for my entertainment.”
I narrow my eyes. “I get you’re a CEO and you’re used to being bossy, but I’m not helpless. Also, a warning next time before men with a bunch of boxes show up to my house would be nice.”
He grins. “Oh, you’re far from helpless,” he nods. “Resourceful, strong, and beautiful.” I tense at his words, heat climbing into my cheeks. “And incapable of accepting a compliment. Which means I’ll be doing it more often to fluster you. Call it a character flaw on my part.”
Wylan rolls his eyes. “Have you already fucked her? Or are you just planning to?”
I scowl over at him despite the pleasure I get at hearing him speak. “No. I’m not fucking anyone, and if I was, it’s none of your business.”
Wylan narrows his eyes on me. “It’s a little bit my business if I’ve been lured into this torrid plan of not killing anyone.”
I run a hand down my face, already exhausted. I glance at the robot. “Please tell me you’re sane at least.”
He shrugs in the static. “I’m breaking laws just by being here.”
I sigh and lean back in my seat. I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with all of this, but Dagen is right. He’s footing the bill. I asked for his help for a reason, and I can’t curtail him now. He’s going to help whether I like it or not. Otto and Wylan are so far from who I assumed we’d be working with, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. Where Otto seems shy and reserved, Wylan feels like anarchy. Though he’s dressed in a black t-shirt and black ripped jeans right now, he feels as if he should be dressed in a more punk rock style. Tattoos cover his body where I can see, his arms crawling with ink. His bright honey eyes are rimmed with black eyeliner, and despite being dressed so simple, he looks like he belongs on a stage. The black combat boots and the messy black hair certainly lend to the illusion.
“Is this room safe to speak freely?” I ask, glancing over at Dagen. At his nod, I sigh. “Okay, I’ll admit I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to revenge plans. I’m not really sure how a hacker and a hitman can help. How do we begin?”
“A hacker, a hitman, and a billionaire walk into a bar,” Wylan laughs. “Sounds like the start of a bad joke.” He leans back in his chair and goes to put his boot up on the table. Dagen shoots him a glare and he ultimately settles for just leaning his chair back instead, his lip pouting out like a child. “Lucky for you, crumpet, I know a thing or two about revenge.”
The screen flickers as the static disappears and information starts flickering across the screen too fast for me to read it. Suddenly, the robot screen makes sense. “I read over the file Dagen sent. Your plan is a good start. I like the idea of taking him down in distinct categories. It’s very Mean Girls of you.”
I flush. “It seemed fitting since I’ve been. . . personally. . . victimized,” I finish lamely, suddenly embarrassed.
“I like it,” Otto says. “It’s a good start.”
“Aye! I didn’t know we had homework,” Wylan complains, glaring at the robot. “Where’s this folder?”
“Right in front of you,” Dagen says, rolling his eyes. “It’s hardly important anyway for you to know the entire plan. You’ll have specific tasks for this process.”
“Ricardo McCoy,” Otto says, and I can hear him tapping away on his keyboard in the background. “Thirty-six. Born in Florida, currently living in California. COO of Aria Tech. Married to Ava McCoy. One child, Elsie McCoy. Net worth of two and a half million.”
“What?” I gasp, nearly falling out of my chair. “Did you say two and a half million?”
Otto hums. “That’s including stock, assets, and the offshore account he has. If I look deeper, I might find more accounts, but this is the most common account I’ve encountered. Not very secure. I could drain it without much effort.” The robot screen turns toward Dagen. “Want me to do that?”
“Not yet,” Dagen says, his eyes on me. “Ava, why does that number surprise you? You’re married to him. Surely you know about his assets.”
I swallow. “It doesn’t matter?—”
“I think it matters when we’re all here to plot his revenge,” he interrupts. “Wylan and Otto should know what we’re fighting against.”
For the first time since I’ve arrived here, I look down, refusing to meet any of their eyes. I’d given Dagen the barest of facts, and I hadn’t come here intending to reveal anymore. But they all wait patiently. Dagen is right. They should know why they’re here.
“I don’t know how much he’s worth because. . . well, I never saw his accounts. He just put money into a shared account for me and Elsie each week. I was expected to use the money in there for groceries, to cook dinner for the week, pack Elsie’s school lunch, and give her breakfast.”
“How much did he give you?” Otto asks softly.
“A hundred a week,” I admit. “And sometimes, he spent it himself under the guise of forgetting it was for us.”
