Page 99 of Only the Devil
I sink onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. “So it’s over.”
Jake studies my face. “How do you feel about that?”
“Honestly? Relieved. And terrified. And...” I twist my ring for the thousandth time. “It feels like I’m dreaming. Like it didn’t really happen. Or he’s going to weasel out of it. It’s not like he was led away in handcuffs.”
“Give it time.” Jake sits beside me, close enough that I can smell that sandalwood scent again. “Wheels of justice turn slow. You did good today. Real good.”
“I didn’t know he was bringing me up on stage. Who does that? No warning at all.”
“Someone with zero empathy. But you handled it. You did good.”
“We all did.”
“No, Daisy. You risked everything for justice. That takes guts.”
Brie bursts in. “Victory party!” she announces, brandishing champagne. “They’re calling it the biggest scandal since Theranos.”
She pops the cork while I watch the monitors.
“Based on futures, Monday morning will be a blood bath for Sterling Financial,” I report. “And get this—two former employees just came forward claiming they have evidence.”
“The dominoes are falling,” Noah observes.
“At least, if you can believe these posts on social media,” I add. In theory, any rando could comment.
Brie pops the champagne cork and starts pouring into coffee mugs—the only clean option in the rental’s minimalist kitchen. The few glasses sit dirty in the dishwasher, waiting for us to turn it on.
“To bringing down the bad guys,” she toasts.
“To not ending up in federal prison ourselves,” I counter.
Our ceramic mugs clink, and for the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe. The weight of pretending, of lying every day, of working for a person I knew wasn’t a good person—it’s lifting. The effect is slow, but as I take stock, I feel lighter.
“So what happens now?” Brie asks. “Do you go back to ARGUS?”
I glance at Jake, who’s watching me with an unreadable expression. We’ve got to talk after these guys clear out. What started between us was never supposed to be the kind of thing that continued past the convenient stage. But he’s worth inconvenience, and I know he feels the same way about me.
But to answer Brie, I say, “Yeah, I’ll go back to ARGUS. I owe Rhodes. It’s a rare boss who will stand by you after you kick ’em to the curb.”
“So is that San Francisco?” Brie’s question is natural curiosity.
Jake stills, his green eyes as dark as I’ve ever seen them. “You can work from wherever, right?”
“Are you expecting her to move wherever you go?” Brie asks in a way that sounds like she’s openly mocking him, but I’ve always rented so I could easily move. Everything about my life has been designed to be easily adjustable, down to refusing a partner position at ARGUS.
Unspoken messages float between Jake and I, but I’m not sure I’m reading them all correctly. Jake’s not one who is easy to misread, but maybe now I’m projecting my emotions.
“I guess we’ll figure it out as we go,” I say finally.
Jake frowns, and I want to say more, but we have people around us. Quinn messages again.
* * *
Quinn
Weaver’s in the office. Talking to someone. Planning.
* * *
