“Nae.”
“Forget price. These are the best tacos from LA to the IE.” She makes small talk for a few moments longer before taking her first bite.
“Withaveye been able to dig up?” I ask.
Hiding her mouth, she chews the food down before responding. “The app you created was marketed perfectly to the demographic. It’s like no other dating app around. There are interactive games for the tweens and a forum for young adults who want to voice their opinion, which is separate from the forum for the more established individuals who prefer to debate.”
“Aye,” I grit. “The company had behaviorists and anthropologists assist with that part of the algorithm.”
“On the outside looking in, Leith, everything’s great.”
“Nae, it’s not bloody great!”
“I’m getting there.” She grabs a small plastic container of salsa and pours. “The AI data you encoded was updated to target wealthy users.”
“I know that.”
“Instead of real, live love connections, an AI is responding to them. Whether this millionaire is lonely or that billionaire wants a sugar baby to spoil, the program is saying all the pretty words rich people want to hear.”
“And stealing their banking info. Robbing people blind.” In retrospect, it’s the kind ofshitethat’ll appeal to the gangsters affiliated with my clan. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “How deep am I? Seeing how myfeckin’name is pretty much on the entire function!”
“Deeper than you think. Unless you can break the firewalls—”
“I’ve tried, Wendy.” I fork a hand through my hair. “The hacker from the fiery pits offeckin’hell is blocking my every bloody attempt.”
“Yeah, about that. I have a friend—”
“Who?”
“An associate who assists me with a select, few cases. I can’t divulge his identity. He refuses to act in anexpert witnesscapacity in most instances. But he’s good.”
“So, ye know who's blackmailing me.” The speaker of a tiny Honda in front of the taco stand stops blaring. Everything goes quiet as I wait for Wendy’s response. All I need is a name.
She gives a faint shake of her head. “Sorry. This person who is helping has been able to pinpoint everything you’re saying. Not a name.”
“How deep is this?”
“It’s extortion, racketeering/bribery, bank fraud . . . All the infractions will add up.”
“Sounds like twenty-five tofeckin’life.”
She grimaces.
“Witabout a deid lad?” I gesture, chewing my thumbnail. “That another twenty-five, or can it be completed in tandem with thebullshiteI didna do?”
With the second taco paused at her lips, she gasps. “Someone killed someone else and is pinning it on you too?”
“Nae. I’m a man, Wendy. I admit myshite. . . when necessary.” Adaftiecackle escapes me, and she stares. It’s times like this, I wish I could hypnotize Chevelle into believing what is bad is good and what is good is for other people, not us.
“Are you serious?”
“Lass, look at my face. This is my serious face.”
“What happened, point-by-point?”
“I’d been giving it my all at work this past week. Left earlier than usual, and I was exhausted. Wanted so badly to rest my heid, but I missed my weeweanand my hen. I was minding something Mia had done while walking through the parking structure when a Chinese guy, I knew ‘em in passing from work, came at me.”
“Who?” She stops and shakes her head. We both know that the less she’s aware of, the better.