Page 4 of Only the Devil

As I finish my beer, I can’t shake the feeling this is gonna be bigger than a simple protective detail. Not sure what it is that’s not sitting right. Maybe it’s as simple as—in my experience—it’s not a good idea for city folks to go poking at a wasp nest.

On the muted TV behind the bar, a headline scrolls across the screen: SEC Questions Tech Firm Amid Fraud Allegations. Some suited exec sits stiff in front of a Senate panel. No sound, just the words FRAUD SCHEME pulsing red in the crawl.

Noah catches it, snorts. “Swamp rats never change.”

I finish my pint, but my gut stays tight. Protective detail, my ass. This isn’t a wasp nest—it’s a minefield. And I know better than most: mines don’t care if you think you’re just passing through.

Chapter 2

Daisy

My dress pants itch at the waist, and the silk tank sticks to my skin. I pinch the fabric and stretch it, then shift it in and out like a fan.

It’s mid-morning, and the Java Mama’s overhead fans aren’t compensating for the absence of air conditioning. The sign on the open shop door read, “A/C’s busted. Getting it fixed. Try the iced coffee!”

Based on the line I’m standing in, the sign did nothing to dissuade the caffeine addicted, of which I am one. Like the others in line, I peruse my phone, and finding nothing of interest, click on my horoscope app.

Virgo - Today’s Forecast: “A significant new opportunity presents itself, but appearances may be deceiving. Trust your analytical nature when others seem too eager to please. A mysterious figure from your past influences current events more than you realize. In matters of the heart, an unexpected connection could challenge your carefully constructed walls. Financial temptation clouds your judgment—remember that the most expensive choices aren’t always the wisest ones. Lucky numbers: 3, 17, 29.”

I roll my eyes and close the app. Horoscopes aren’t science, but I still love them anyway—because at least the stars don’t abandon you without warning.

The television hanging precariously in the far corner, an old model with a rectangular body, shows the outside of Sterling Financial on the screen. Since there’s no camera crew down the street, the footage is stock or this news segment was pre-recorded. A woman in line nudges the man beside her. The volume is off, but the caption reads “Cryptocurrency Revolution.”

Revolution. Right. Like calling a system crash a “feature update.”

My phone lights up, and I adjust my suit coat over my arm to better type a response. I prefer dictation, but I’m in a crowded coffee shop and I’m not rude.

* * *

Rhodes

HR called.

U told them I’m the best you’ve ever had? Right?

Rhodes

I don’t like this.

Read the room. Not your call.

Rhodes

Understood. Therefore I confirmed your fictional employment dates.

* * *

“Ma’am? How can I help you?” The bandana wrapped around the woman’s head is soaked on the edges, and red curls and flyaways flutter under the fan’s breeze. I go to slide my phone into my back pocket, only to remember I don’t have a back pocket because I’m in uncomfortable suit pants.

“I’ll take an iced vanilla coffee and…” I lean back to scan the picked over glass cabinet of baked goods. “A croissant.”

“And I’ll take an iced tea, sweet, and a banana.”

A muscular hand with light scars over the knuckles and a braided leather bracelet enters my peripheral vision, holding a credit card.

Southern twang? Buying my breakfast?

Really?