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Local bank teller Quinn Morris declared missing.
I didn't know Quinn's last name...hell, I didn't even know he was a bank teller. But the photo beneath the caption was undeniably his.
Less than a week after assigning me the job to hack into the mayor's computer, his apartment had been ransacked, and now he was missing. If whoever was behind this discovered my involvement, what would happen to me?
My heart clenched as I scanned the street around me. Where did the black sedan go? Fuck. What if someone was watching me and now they knew I had a daughter?
"Olive. Hello, Olive." Rachel appeared before me, waving her hand in front of my face.
I blinked. "What?"
"I was calling your name for like five minutes," Rachel said. "You okay, sweetie? You look tired."
AKA I looked like shit.
"What do you want, Rachel?"
I didn't have time for this bullshit.
She sipped at her latte. "Well, I just happened to overhear you talking to Claire. And you said you were getting her ice cream. Again?"
Seriously, though? Where did the car go?
"What's your point, Rachel?"
Rachel cocked her head sideways. "Well, you know, ice cream isn't exactly healthy for a ten-year-old. Especially daily."
She did not. "I'm sorry, are you giving me parenting advice right now?"
Rachel smiled. "No, of course not, I would never. It's just a little neighborly conversation."
"That's funny, because it sounds to me like you're telling me how to raise my daughter. You, the woman who has three nannies, a personal chef, and who medicates her twins for being a little excited when they're just acting like normal fucking kids. I mean, hell, woman, can you even tell the difference between them?"
Rachel stumbled backward, her jaw slackening, her hand pressed against her chest. The parents around us had stopped their own conversations and were staring at us. But I suddenly gave no fucks.
Across the courtyard, Ms. Stevens spotted me and started waving. Fuck.
Rachel cocked her head and planted a hand on her hip. "Olive, you don't have to be rude. I was just offering advice."
Ms. Steven was walking faster in my direction.
"Well, you know what, Rachel? Maybe I haven't made this clear. So allow me to. You can take your advice and shove it up your ass. I know there might be a few too many sticks up there already, but I'm sure you'll find room."
"Olive!" Ms. Steven called out.
Suddenly, the black sedan rolled up to the curb.
Rachel shook her head. "You think your better than me, Olive Winters, but you know what? You're not."
"Rachel, fuck off!"
The car had followed me—I knew it. I spun around to run when the back window rolled down. Lucas glanced at Rachel and then back at me. "Need a ride?"
Ms. Stevens curved around the corner, bustling through the front gates. "Olive! I need to speak you."
Fuck this. I jumped off the curb, threw open the door, and hopped into the backseat. Slamming the door shut, I rolled up the window, smiling at the look of utter shock on Rachel Carlyle'sface.
As my adrenaline faded, the repercussions of what had just happened settled inside me.
