He steps closer, invading my space, and tilts my chin back up. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you,” he murmurs. “But this will help our plans. And you’ll be safe. I’ll be in there with you and my team will be on alert and at the ready.”
“I don’t know how to feel about it,” I whisper.
He nods and steps back, and I immediately miss the warmth of his nearness. “You have tonight to think about it, but the meeting is tomorrow at three. Your company has given me permission to allow your team to work at my office for the meantime and I’m paying them heavily to be your only client right now. Otto will also be there as well on screen since his tech and Mendoza’s program will be replacing Aria’s sad excuse for an algorithm.” He pauses. “Is all of that okay with you?”
Something unfurls in my chest at his question. He’s doing his job, planning, controlling, but he’s trying to be respectful of my wishes. That’s more than most men even attempt.
“That’s fine,” I say, smiling at him. “And what about Wylan? He won’t be at the meeting?”
“Oh,” he grins. “He’s starting his job tonight.”
Twenty-Three
Wylan
Ricardo McCoy is staying at a ritzy hotel downtown, not too far from Dagen’s building. In fact, it’s far too close for comfort. Obviously, Dagen knows where he is and probably has people watching the bastard just in case. I suppose it’s best to keep your enemies close. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Dagen somehow made sure the bastard was staying at this very place.
Old Ricky’s room is on the fifth floor, a nice suite, bigger than some people’s flats. I’m still in the same clothes as earlier, sans the tutu and fairy wings. Elsie had wanted me to keep them on, but I’d used the excuse to say they wouldn’t quit work for where I was going. I’ve never seen a little girl look so disappointed. Needless to say, I’m still wearing the bloody tiara to make her happy. I couldn’t stand to see her sad. I considered it a compromise. The tutu and wings would make it difficult to blend in while I’m sneaking around. The tiara already stands out amongst all my black. Luckily, I’m wearing a mask and have my hoodie pulled up over the tiara. Still, if any cameras catch sight of me, someone is going to be very confused.
My mind wanders to Ava’s face as I’d pulled on the tutu and the fairy wings, her laughter as I’d struck a pose with the feather boa. I shouldn’t be thinking of that smile at all, but it seems like the only thing I can think about lately. It’d been a mistake to have tea with them. I should keep things professional. Assassins don’t make connections. Anyone I get sticky with is a target, and Ava and Elsie don’t deserve to escape one boiling pot for another. I should let it go.
But that bloody fucking smile. . .
The hotel room is messy despite there being room service. It’s clear the cleaners weren’t sure what to do about all the clothes strung around the room, so they’d just bypassed those. The clothing is literally everywhere, tossed wherever the bastard saw fit, but that isn’t what holds my attention.
It’s the table with photos spread out on top of it. Photos of two particular someone’s I know. Ava walking into work. Ava standing in her window at home. Elsie at the school playground.
“Fucking hell,” I whisper, shaking my head. I can’t touch this without making it obvious someone was here—it goes against the plan—but I can’t help myself from snatching one of the close-up photos of Ava and pocketing it. For research purposes, of course. Clearly, our boy has been looking at Ava under a microscope. I knew he was dangerous, had seen the medical records Otto_Bot sent me, but to see his plans laid out before me, it makes it more real. I’ve killed a lot of bad people. Some of them deserved death less than Ricardo McCoy does, though. And that’s saying something. I’d like nothing more than to break every bone in Old Ricky’s body, one for each break Ava suffered. But that isn’t the plan right now. Instead, I need to inconvenience this bastard like a child. Immaturity makes men like him mad, and I plan to drive him completely insane before the real plan takes place. I want him paranoid like a motherfucker, frantic with it even. He deserves every bit of Hell we can give him.
Besides, this will make Ava laugh when I tell her about it.
The TV remote is tossed on the bed. I pop open the back and steal the batteries, pocketing them. I’ll have to hit the supply closet for the maids, too, to make sure he can’t easily replace them. Now, what else can I do that’ll make Ava laugh? I spin around the room, my eyes landing on the bathroom. Easy enough. I go in and swipe all the bath tissue, tossing the rolls in the trash bag I steal from the bin. Then I grab his toothbrush and eye the nasty toilet. Wanker didn’t even flush. Grinning, I scrub the hell out of the toilet with the toothbrush and drop it back on the counter.
Ava had a bloody brilliant idea with the Nair, so I grab his shampoo bottle and pour out half of it before replacing it with the Nair I’d brought with me in my back pocket. He’ll lose his mind when his hair starts falling out. I can’t wait.
I slip from the bathroom and flick open my knife. I pick up random items of clothing around the room, cutting holes in the asses of some and cutting the stitching in others. It’ll be like roulette. And then I eye all the shoes lined up along the wall, the only order in the whole room. The bastard clearly likes them. So, I swipe every left shoe, but leave the right ones behind. Then I kick the ordered line up apart.
I grab one of the half-drunk bottles of water and throw back the comforter before dumping it all in the center of the bed. I grab another and add it, before grabbing a bottle of amber-colored whiskey and doing the same. Then I cover it all back up with the comforter. Finally, I turn toward the clock.
“Let’s see how you like waking up early, motherfucker,” I mumble before setting six different alarms. Three a.m. Three thirty. Four o’ six. Four forty-seven. Five o’ nine. Five thirty-two. Let’s see if he crushes the clock after the second wakeup call.
I look around the room, nod my head with pleasure, and turn back toward the door. “Consider yourself mildly inconvenienced, arsehole,” I say to the empty room before slipping back out.
On my way out, I steal the rest of the batteries and wet the stacks of toilet paper in the supply closets. Just in case.
I shoot a text to Otto letting him know so he can look for the video of his reaction later. I can’t bloody wait to watch it.
I adjust my tiara and disappear into the shadows, no one the wiser.
Twenty-Four
Ava
I’m wearing my red power suit again, the one I know I look good in, but it doesn’t give me the same confidence as it usually does. My marketing team is set up on the floor below this one in their new work office. Everything we could need for this job has been provided. I don’t think I’ve ever worked for a company as thorough and fair as Fox Industries. Funny thing is, it’s not just because of me. The employees here all seem happy, all excited to talk about their job and the importance of it. Still, none of that can distract me from what I’m here to do.
Look Ric in the eyes again.
I’d had a panic attack at the restaurant, but this is different. This is on my own terms, and Ric won’t get anywhere near touching me. Dagen has assured me that I’ll be safe, that if I don’t want him to get anywhere near me, he’ll personally make sure I never get close enough for him to even breathe my air. And if there’s one person I trust in all this, it’s Dagen. Maybe that makes me a fool, but I don’t care.
