Page 123 of Only the Wicked

And she wants to tell me in person. This isn’t good.

My stomach plunges, a physical reaction more honest than anything I’ve allowed myself to feel since leaving the hotel room this morning. Hours of running, and I’m right back where I started—trapped between attraction and suspicion. You can’t have a relationship without trust, which is why we’re not in a relationship. My psyche needs to clue in.

“Sydney?”

I don’t know why I have to say her name. Or why I need confirmation. Perhaps a part of me still hopes there’s some explanation that doesn’t make me a fool twice over—once for not seeing her initial deception, and again for allowing myself to hope for something genuine between us afterward. The mythology metaphors from last night echo mockingly in my head: Icarus falling after flying too close to the sun. Except in this case, the sun might be a carefully constructed illusion.

“Yep. Your missus.”

“Don’t call her that.” A jogger comes around the bend and I make eye contact, nod, pull my foot up to my ass to stretch my quad, and once the jogger is out of earshot and past us, say, “Just spit it out Daze.”

“I got her CIA file.”

“How?” I put a hand up, gesturing for her to not speak. “I don’t want to know.”

“No, you don’t. I didn’t use ARGUS. Not for this. Her file includes redacted information about an operation in Moscow that went wrong.”

“I thought she was based in France when she was pulled back.”

“All I’m saying is she’s got ties to Russia, even if it was a short-term op.”

This news isn’t particularly surprising. The assets she was cultivating in France worked for the Russian embassy.

“You needed to say that to me in person?”

“And ARGUS is being attacked by a sophisticated bot network.” She delivers this bombshell with the same tone she might use to comment on the weather.

I freeze mid-stretch. “I’m hearing about this just now? About an attack on our primary system?”

“I’ve got it under control.” She waves dismissively. “You were on vacation.”

“A vacation you and Miles practically forced me to take,” I snap, dropping my voice as a pair of older walkers pass by. “Define ‘sophisticated bot network.’ Are we talking standard DDoS or something more targeted?”

Daisy’s expression shifts subtly—the slight tightening around her eyes that I’ve learned means the situation is worse than she’s letting on. “They’re probing for vulnerabilities in our encryption protocols. Not trying to take us down—trying to get in. Whoever designed it knows our architecture intimately.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Someone with inside knowledge of ARGUS is targeting us, and meanwhile I’ve been hiking and sleeping with a woman who admitted to investigating me.

“Daisy.” I close my mouth and focus on breathing through my nose to rein in the growing anger. When Miles convinced me to take a vacation, I agreed under the condition I would be apprised of any major issues.

“Don’t get like that. I’ve got it under control. And you knew I was investigating. Remember our call last night? Containment protocols? I kept you updated as I researched. And now I have an answer.”

I motion for her to get to her fucking point.

“My first suspicion was Russia. Especially after, you know, the ambassador yesterday.”

“Is that why you’re telling me Sydney may have worked in Moscow?”

“I traced the attack to servers owned by Zenith—Dorian Moore’s company.” Daisy’s fingers tap a rapid pattern on her laptop lid—her tell when she’s connecting dots mentally. “And like I mentioned to you, Sydney and Dorian’s wife, Caroline Moore, have history.”

“What’s the connection to Russia?” She’s treading on frayed nerves.

“There might not be any direct connection,” she says, looking at me like I’m a simpleton, yet she’s the one sitting on the bench like a child with her arms wrapped around her legs. “But Zenith has several contracts with Roscosmos—the Russian space agency. They share certain orbital lanes.”

She doesn’t need to spell it out. Sharing orbital lanes means sharing data collection opportunities.

“You’re saying this could be corporate espionage, not state-sponsored?”

“Except we both know the line between corporations and state isn’t exactly clear anymore, especially in tech,” she says with a shit-ton of smug pride. “Russia wants access to the Forbes database. Moore may want ARGUS. Sydney works for Moore’s wife and has a history with Russian operations. You need to know that she could be running a double operation—serving both corporate and state interests. KOAN’s ownership is seriously vague. Like we’re talking so covered it’s deep shade.”