“So far, he’s revealed two scenarios. The one you initially reached out about, which was sexting and or uploaded videos being leveraged for blackmail. Also, the AI, so-called Significant Other, is being used to extort money and gifts. A hacker who goes by the name—”
“Whistletips69. Real name Douglas Yates.”
“How do you—?”
“I know thebampot’sfull name. Hefeckedover my programming. The app is compromising all the information on a user’s device.” I briefly share the information I stumbled upon this evening. “So, as ye found out, he’s gathering incriminating info, blackmailing ‘em,” I groan.
“That’s not all.”
“What is it, lass?”
“My guy spent almost a week with no sleep on this. Then he sat on the truth for days.” Wendy pauses. “Leith, people are dying. But he couldn’t find a solid connection between Yates to any of the departed. Yates has rock-solid alibis during every murder. Hell, half the time he’s vacationing on a different continent. He has no affiliation to any hired hitmen or otherwise capable sources.”
“Not like my clan,” I add, commenting on the elephant in the room.
“Nope. No mob or gang connections. My guy searched the dark web. No transactions or requests for a hired hit. My associate even reached out to a prominent hitman organization.”
Running my tongue over my teeth, I contemplate how Jiang got it in his head that we were enemies. “Thearseholecould be pawning onepartneroff on the other.”
“My associate did notice how certain persons with a particular background, such as yourself, were also targeted. The list was inconsequential in comparison to the wealthy demographic that he targeted. Those men also died—freak accidents—one after another.”
Feck. Had her mate shared this information sooner, Douglas Yates would already be a deid duck. This is all the information I gathered tonight. Still, I’ve a nagging feeling. “Wendy, what was the timeframe between each man’s death?”
“Ummm, roughly four to six months.” She sucks on air. “There’s a correlation between the location of the men and—”
“The richfeckstargeted for blackmailing?”
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
Phelps runs across my mind. He knew I was coming. Jiang was caught off guard—probably thought I intended to blackmail the three of them. Or perhaps he stumbled upon his good friends’, Yates and Phelps, real plans.
But Phelps was fully aware that his time was up. He and Yates hadfeckedover more wealthynuggets, making use of the same scheme. A scenario comes together. Once an unlucky bastard with loose morals finishes his assignments in a given area, the help gets terminated.This is Douglas Yates’ last hurrah. Has to be.Why else cut down his partner? This time, though, Yates picked the wrongmotherfecker.
Chapter 37
Chevelle
For the last two hours,I’ve worked in tandem beside Quinn, a bartender hired after I found out I was pregnant. Justice and she hired on at roughly the same time.
“How are you killing it with all the heavy hitters tonight? Is it the stilettos?” Quinn asks, then heads over to the blender.
“Nope.” I grin. Coming of age surrounded by Lady’s fakery, I can slap a smile on my face even while dying inside. Tonight, I’m genuinely happy, though. Sexting my husband adds a year to my lifespan. Besides, I look good, donning my favorite red pumps, jeans stretching across all my hips and ass.
I hand two Fire Bombs over to a patron, who’s squeezed on the opposite side of the counter. Moving in tandem with Quinn on this round, I reply, “I’m Chevelle the Charmer.”
“Nice!” Quinn squeals, hoisting a tray of colorful slushies.
Michie lifts two martini shakers in each hand, biceps pumping them. “When we slow down, Quinn, I’ll tell you how the Charmer and I served a thousand in one night.”
“Wasn’t a thousand,” I reply, lining up ten shot glasses. Two ounces of vodka splash perfectly into each one as the nozzle zooms by.
“Was a thousand, Quinn.I’m the big boss.I say it was a thousand.”
I lift the tray of shots and head to a table filled with frat boys.
One grabs my arm, offering to double the padding in my bra. I grab the back of his hair. The bouncer near the door grits his teeth, starting to stride over when I catch his eye. I shake my head.
Hand on hip, I ask the handsy bastard, “You see the ring?”