Millionaire pays beautiful woman to dance for him in his cellar. That ain’t suspicious at all.” He drank about half his coffee without looking away from me. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I’m fine.”
“How’s the prototype? That fine?”
“Awesome.”
“Liar. You figure out how to make it dodge yet?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. That’s what this thing with Natasha is about. I think there’s something there, something to do with dancing.”
Neil cocked his head to one side. “You going to put ballet shoes on a missile and have it pirouette out of the way?”
“Why do you have to be so literal? I don’t know what the connection is yet. That’s why I need to watch her dance some more.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t start that again.” I poured myself some coffee. It was difficult to think, the kiss still burning in my mind. There was no way Neil could know what happened, right?
“You tell her about the missile? Does she know what she’s helping you make?”
I said nothing.
Neil raised his eyebrows. “But you told her you make weapons for a living, right?”
“In a manner of speaking,” I said shiftily.
“ What manner of speaking?”
“The sort where I told her I’m an engineer.”
Now Neil folded his arms and looked at me suspiciously. “You’ve never been secretive about it before.”
He was right. I didn’t hide what I did—I was proud of it. The world needed weapons, and someone was going to make them. I made the very best. So why hadn’t I just told her, when I’d talked to her outside the audition? Or in our Facebook chat? Or downstairs, when she saw the workshop for the first time? Why had I flung a sheet over the missile, moments before she arrived? All of the girls I’d dated, the ones from the charity fundraisers and the horse races, had known what I did and they’d never had a problem with it. If they’d mentioned it at all, they’d claimed to be impressed. Why was she any different?
I shrugged. “She doesn’t need to know.”
“Mm-hmm.” Neil picked up another pastry and started munching on it. “Because lying right from the first date always goes well.”
“It wasn’t a date!”
“There’s an alternative.” Neil paused for effect. “You could, you know, not make things that kill people.”
My chest tightened. Neil and had come to an understanding about my work, after many years of drunken rants on both sides. He’d accepted what I did, but that didn’t mean he liked it. “We can’t all be flower children, Neil.”
“The Bitch isn’t going to be pleased.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call her that—it’s childish. Her name’s Carol.”
“It’s both accurate and appropriate. The woman is distilled bad karma.”
I sighed. “How is it that you can have a problem with a respectable executive, but have no issue hanging out with someone called Big Earl.” The biker thing was more than dress-up and weekend rides for Neil. He was in pretty tight with one of the local motorcycle clubs, guys who’d leave you dead in a ditch without a second thought.
“Hey, those guys have honor and respect, man. They’re like a brotherhood. And I mean it, Carol’s going to be pissed.”
“She’ll get her missile.” I topped up my coffee. “I’ll get it working eventually.”
“I wasn’t talking about the missile.”
It took me a second to figure out what he meant. “ Natasha? Carol won’t care about Natasha! It’s none of her business! The company doesn’t own me!”
“Uh-huh. You just keep telling yourself that, man. Hey, when are they coming again?”
“ ‘They’—Oh. Clarissa.”
Now Neil was the one looking shifty. “Yeah. I want to make sure I’m not here if she comes back.”
I crossed my arms and watched him. “Uh-huh.”
Chapter Ten
Natasha
That night, I took a long look at the bike and decided that—for once—I didn’t need it. I just
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