by JA Huss
I nod. “OK. I’ll be there.” And then I walk to the front door and let myself out.
I exhale deeply and take an equally large one back in to steady myself as I open the gate and start walking up the street towards downtown.
I can’t decide if what just happened is on plan or not.
I decide it is. I decide it went just the way it was supposed to.
I decide that even if I just majorly fucked it all up, I don’t care. Because I cannot do this on my own. I need those girls on my side if I want to win this game.
Chapter Twenty-One - OLIVER
“Where’s Katya?” I say, when our little outside talk is over and we file back into the kitchen.
“She said she had to go to work,” Ariel says.
I squint my eyes at my sister. “Did she? Well, she doesn’t work, per se. So I find that highly suspicious.”
“What does she do?” Pax asks.
“Never mind. I’m gonna go find her.”
“She said she needs some time,” Ellie says. “Said to tell you that. You know. Space, Oliver?”
I look at her. Then Ariel. Then Cindy and Ivy.
If Victoria was in here with them, I’d have an easier time thinking they were lying. But Ellie? She doesn’t strike me as a liar. “She did?” I ask.
Ivy nods. “It’s a lot to take in. Meeting people who have your dark moments in common.” She gazes at Nolan affectionately. I want to roll my eyes at them and their common dark moments.
“How do you think she found you again, Oliver?” It’s Ellie asking but I’m looking at Ariel.
“She’s the one who left, not me,” I answer. Ariel shakes her head just the tiniest bit. But I know what she’s thinking. That look says, We might have a problem. And by we might have a problem, she means we might be going to prison.
I know that look well, but it’s been a good long while since we were this vulnerable.
Hook-Me-Up is a real dating site. Ariel came up with the idea when she was in high school and we papered Colorado State University with flyers about it, since it’s practically next door to Shrike Bikes.
A dating site is a good way to collect a lot of personal information about people. You get photos, hobbies, occupation, and if not straight-up daily schedules, at the very least you get patterns. Lots of patterns.
You also get credit card info.
We aren’t stealing money, though. We’re compiling data, which is just as valuable. We sell that data. Emails and shit. But that part of it is all legal.
Not everything happening over at Hook-Me-Up is legal.
The first time I heard the words ‘dark web’ it came out of my mother’s mouth.
I remember being so intrigued because the conversation went something like… Five can get that from the dark web.
Could get what? should be most people’s first question.
But mine was… That motherfucker is holding out on me. He has a secret about computers and he’s not sharing it.
I went to Ariel, since we’re the closest of all my many cousins and siblings and we were both really into coding back then. And she said she’d heard of it, but didn’t use it because people who frequent the dark web were part of the underbelly, and did we really want to be considered underbelly?
Ariel and I aren’t evil. Or Five, for that matter. But being able to code things, or break into things using code, well, it makes you more powerful than you’d be without that skill. It makes us different than most people.
A little darker. A little dirtier since you can live underground.
And if you want to find the dark side of anything it’s not that hard when you know how to write the perfect code.
Cindy got in shortly after. She’s a snooper, that one. And she’s tenacious. Most of what she uses the dark web for is pretty innocent. She finds clients on the Hidden Wiki. She’s basically just doing job searches.
But Ariel and I are not as innocent.
And I have a very sick feeling that Katya is back because of what Ariel and I do on the dark web.
“We gotta get to work too,” Ariel says. “Two of the servers are down and we’ve gotten like a thousand complaints from people who are afraid they won’t get laid tonight. So you go handle that and I’ll smooth things over in customer service. OK?”
Aside from my new paranoia about Katya, something is not right here with Ariel and the girls. I can feel it. They are up to something. “Fine,” I say, heading towards the door. I’d rather figure it out without all their faces staring at me.
“Can we expect you for dinner tonight?” Cindy calls out. “At the condo?”
“No,” I say. “Fuck that.”
I can hear all the girls giggling at my reaction as I close the door behind me.
I get in the Camaro and drive slowly home, checking all the side streets to see if I can spot Katya.
But I don’t see her. It’s not like her place is far, so I’m not exactly panicked about that. And I was outside for like twenty minutes talking to the guys. So I can’t really blame her for taking off. I’m sure Ariel was just delightful company.
I don’t bother going home to change before work, just park my car behind the building and climb the stairs to the fourth floor. I head straight to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Katya in the apartment that might be hers before I have to sit down and deal with real life.
But no such luck. She’s not there.
Why am I surprised?
When is the last time luck showed up in my life?
Chapter Twenty-Two - KATYA
The crisp, cold air is a welcome relief as I make my way back to my apartment. But instead of ducking my head into the wind like I usually do, I look around. Nervous. Everything is happening too quickly right now. Oliver, the phone call, the sisters, the meeting tomorrow. Do I really know what I’m doing?
No, I conclude. Some of what’s happening seems controllable but other parts are so out of my realm of expertise, I have to fight off a panic attack. What if I do it all wrong? What if people get hurt? What if, what it, what if…
I turn into the alley to avoid a group of college kids ahead and bump right into a tall redhead. It takes me less than a second to realize who she is and why she’s here.
“Ellen,” I say, a slight tone of disgust in my voice. “Something I can help you with?”
Ellen Abraham is a washed-up old bat who has nothing better to do than fuck with people’s lives. “Just letting you know we’re here. We’re watching you, Katya. And if you think you’re going to change sides now, you’re mistaken. What were you doing at that house?”
“It’s called Phase Two, Ellen.” I practically sneer it. I hate this woman. Ever since she showed up in my life last year I’ve hated her. She’s so… gross. “Everything I just did was in the plan. Not that it’s any of your business.”
She squints at me, making the creases around her eyes all that more prominent. She has so much make-up on, it practically creates crevasses. “We don’t trust you.”
“I don’t really care what you think. Or your boss.” She is nothing but an aging whore. Not even disgusting Lucio Gori would have her.
“He’s your boss too.” Her smirk is ugly. Her wrinkled red lips so pathetic. Please, I pray to God. If I live as long as this woman, please don’t let me age this badly.
“No,” I say, sounding a lot surer than I feel. “He’s not. We made a deal. I give him what he wants, he helps me with what I want. Nowhere in that deal do you even enter the picture. So you better stay the fuck away from me, Ellen. Or I swear, I’ll tell everyone what you’re doing.”
Ellen is silent for a few moments as she considers my threat. It’s almost a ruse. Almost. She’s working both sides just like me. I could tell people what she’s up to. Of course, I’d give myself away as well, so I wouldn’t do that unless I felt I had no other choice. Still… she needs her secrets just as much as I need mine.
“You know what he wants and you better deliver,” she finally s
ays.
“I always do,” I reply.
“Has she been in contact?” Ellen asks.
She. That’s all they care about. Her. “No.” I shake my head.
“You’re sure?” Ellen asks. “Because I have it on good authority that someone saw you buying a disposable phone the other day.”
Who the fuck saw me? I was so careful. Lily and I were at the Super Target. I slipped into the electronics section while she was looking at pajamas. I didn’t see anyone. Do they have access to that security footage or something? “Yeah,” I snarl. “The one I used to talk to Gori, you stupid bitch.” I spit at her, but my insult falls short.
She laughs. “Do you really think Lucio Gori is going to let you go once this over? Really? Come on, Katya. You have to know you’re in it for life. Didn’t your parents teach you anything?”
“First of all,” I say, refusing to let her words bother me. “I’m not in anything for life. What they have with me is a contract, and all contracts have an expiration date.”
“You’re property,” Ellen says, clearly enjoying her opportunity to remind me of things I already know. “The Russians sold you.”
She has a smug look on her face, like she thinks this hurts me. But it doesn’t. I let go of the Russian part of me a long time ago. I’m no one’s property and maybe the Russians did get something in return for handing me over to Lucio Gori, but it wasn’t with my consent. And that’s the only part that matters.
“Yup,” I say, letting that go. “I am. But not for long. I have done everything asked of me. I have not fucked up once. And next week this will all be in the past. A bad dream and nothing else.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Katya. You probably need to believe that more than anyone I’ve ever met.” And then she pats me on the head like a dog and walks off, calling over her shoulder, “You better get that information from Weston Conrad, Katya Kalashova. Or your sister’s name will be added to your contract, just like you were added to your parent’s.”
I rush forward and grab her throat, pushing her up against the brick wall of the building so fast, she doesn’t even have time to scream before I’m pressing on her neck. Her hands claw at mine, but I just squeeze harder. God, I hate her. I hate them all. I want to end her life—
Ellen gets a knee up and delivers a blow to my ribs so hard, I stumble back. She has both hands on her throat as she gasps for air. I can’t help myself. I laugh. I laugh loud. So loud, Ellen gets nervous and glances at the street to see of anyone is watching this little altercation. Bitch isn’t smug anymore.
A group of college girls walks by the alley. We watch them pass. Ellen, still gasping for air. Me, stifling a laugh.
And then I look at Ellen and point my finger right at her face. “I don’t report to you, Ellen. You can tell him I said that. You can tell him if he’s got a complaint he can come here and take it up with me himself.”
Ellen is still pawing her throat. “I’ll pass it along, Katya,” she croaks. “But one wrong move and you know what happens.” She makes a slicing motion across his throat. “Only this time it won’t be you who gets cut. It will be her.”
Ellen doesn’t wait for me to answer. Just turns and walks towards the busy street and crowds of people beginning their day. I don’t have a comeback anyway. Every time they threaten my little sister like that I just freeze. It sends a panic through my whole body.
I lean against a brick building and take deep breaths until I stop shaking. And then I force myself to walk the opposite direction. Get as far away from the past coming back to haunt me as I can.
They will not get my sister like they did me. I will do anything to keep that from happening.
But they do scare me. My legs are trembling with the adrenaline rush from the confrontation. And there’s a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that everything is about to go very, very wrong.
I’m almost feeling normal when I get to my building. The doorman has the elevator for me, but I wave him off. “I’m gonna to take the stairs,” I say with the most cheerful voice I can manage. “I need the exercise.”
“Sure thing, Miss Kalashova,” he calls back.
I open the door to the stairs, but instead of going up, I go down to the garage level. Then one more, to the storage unit level. Everyone gets one closet-sized storage unit to keep things like Christmas trees and boxes out of the way during the year.
I have one. But that’s not the one I go to now. I’d have to be a fool to think they wouldn't check my storage unit.
Instead I go to the one for the unit next door. It’s got a lock on it, but I have the combination.
I quickly find the right numbers on the dial and it pops open with a click. One last look behind me, and I slip inside.
The disposable phone they caught me buying the other day is right where I left it and when I flip it open I have a message.
We’re on track. Do your job, stick to the plan, and I’ll see you in two days.
I flip it closed, set it down, and exit—quickly locking the storage unit back up and jogging all the way up the stairs to the top floor.
Inside the phone is buzzing in the drawer. I have a slight moment of panic as I try to assess how many seconds late I might be, and then force myself to take a deep breath and let it out as I answer.
“Yes,” I say.
“Progress?”
“Yes,” I say. “I have a meeting with them tomorrow.”
“Make sure you get what I need.”
“Yes. I’ll have what you need.”
The line goes dead and I stare at the phone for a moment before flipping it closed and tucking it away in the drawer once more.
I’m shaking again. All over this time. My legs, my arms, my hands, my whole body is nothing but fear.
Ellen Abraham is no threat to me. But the people on the other end of that phone are another breed of evil.
I walk around my condo, pacing back and forth down the hallway between the living room and the bedroom to avoid the cameras they have hidden in every single room. Fully immersed in my own thoughts.
And then the security phone next to the door rings.
I breathe in and out for a couple seconds, not allowing myself to fall apart even further. I walk to the door and pick up the handset. “Yes,” I say.
“Miss Kalashova, you have a visitor.” It’s the doorman.
“Who?” I ask, hoping it’s Oliver.
“Miss Ariel Shrike, ma’am.”
Hmm. This must be very important if she can’t wait until tomorrow.
“I’m afraid I’m just getting into the shower,” I say. “Can you ask her to come by another time?”
But also very dangerous.
“Yes, ma’am,” the doorman says. “Sorry to bother you.”
I hang up the handset and go to the window to try to catch a glimpse of Ariel. She works two doors down with Oliver. But there is no way for me to get over there without being seen.
I open the drawer that holds my sanctioned disposable phone and text.
A few minutes later it rings. “Yes?” I ask.
“Meet with her.”
Chapter Twenty-Three - OLIVER
Some time later—hours, probably—I hear footsteps on the stairs. And when I look up from my work they are all there.
Perfect, Romantic, Corporate, and Mysterious.
“What’s up?” I ask, looking back at my computer. There were two servers down this morning but they went back up without any interference from me. So I’ve been half-heartedly working on another delete file, while doing my best to come up with a plausible story to tell the Misters—because let’s face it, the one I told was pretty bad. And also compulsively checking Katya’s Hook-Me-Up profile for another video.
No luck, as usual.
“I think you know what’s up,” Nolan says.
“No, Nolan,” I say, exiting out of the admin page of Hook-Me-Up. “I really don’t.”
Mac comes and takes a seat in one of the chair
s in front of my desk. West takes the other one. Nolan stands behind them and Pax goes to the window, looking down on the city below like the suspicious motherfucker he is.
He steps back, untucks the curtains out of their holdbacks, and then pulls them across the window, the metal rings clanking across the rod.
“How the fuck can you do business without a door?” Pax asks, nodding towards the stairs.
“I don’t usually need so much privacy up here.”
“Well, you’re gonna need it today,” Nolan says. “We should probably go somewhere else.”
I stand up and shrug. “Follow me then.” I couldn’t have asked for a better invitation to explain more of what’s happening here.
I walk over to a door on the other side of the stairs, open it to reveal another door, then dial the combination.
“What is this?” Pax asks, knocking on the metal door with his knuckles.
“SCIF,” I say, like this is normal.
“Nice,” Pax says. “How come I didn’t know you had a SCIF room?”
“Need-to-know basis, my friend.” I look over my shoulder at him and smile. “You never needed to know.”
I open the second door and lead them down a flight of stairs. When we get to the bottom I dial the combination to the third door, open it, and let everyone pass me by as they enter the dark room.
I turn on the lights, jog back up the stairs, close the first door, lock the second door, then hop back down the stairs and lock the third door.
“I think you’re being dramatic,” Nolan says.
“You would. But you’re the dumbass who had a SCIF room in his resort basement and didn’t know it.”
“Do I need to know what a SCIF room is?” Mac asks, leaning against a wall.
“Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility,” I say.
