“Of course not. Where would be the fun in that?”
They shared a moment of perfect accord. If Jay couldn’t bypass his security measures then she didn’t deserve to use his laptop.
Michael sweetened the challenge. “If you can do it in under ten minutes I’ll buy you that puppy Tyler mentioned you wanted.”
“I’ll buy a doggie bed the instant I get back to my place,” she said, appreciating his confidence in his own skills but letting him know she was far more confident in her own. “I meant to ask before, did Marissa receive the new AMEX card that was issued when the last one expired?”
“Yes. The courier came a few weeks ago.”
Jay arched her brows.
“She didn’t cut it up, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Very good, Michael. That’s exactly what I was asking because—”
“She’ll never use it again,” he said. Marissa had only used the AMEX account Jay had set up in Marissa’s maiden name when she and her family had fled Snapperton for their own safety. The sole charges to the card had been clothing and necessities, tanks of gas, meals and hotel accommodation—a drop in the bucket compared to the vast wealth Jay had squirreled away.
“Even so, it is there for emergencies—such as helping with the cost of getting ready for an unexpected addition to one’s family. Or if Caro were to need assistance with her studies, for example.”
Michael nodded slowly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Please do. Or I might take it upon myself to set up a trust fund for your new offspring—after I inform your daughter I’m paying her tuition fees, of course. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of any sibling jealousy.”
Michael’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “You’re a hard girl to say no to, you know that?”
“Your son doesn’t appear to have any problems saying no to me.” Oh. Had that sounded a bit sour?
Michael’s chuckle told her it probably had.
“We’d better take these through to the lounge before Tyler sends out a search party,” he said.
Jay nodded and followed him out of the kitchen.
Conversation cut off and uneasy silence greeted their entrance. Jay waited for Michael to lower the sandwich-laden plates onto the coffee table before placing the tray next to them.
“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” Tyler said.
“I didn’t,” Michael said. “It was Jay.”
Despite being able to hear them perfectly well, Jay pulled out her ear-buds. “Pardon?”
Michael saw right through her ruse but he played along, confining his reaction to sharing a significant glance with Tyler. The more “human” Jay could appear in front of Marissa, the easier it would be for everyone.
Tyler caught on and repeated what he’d said for her benefit. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”
“It was no trouble.” Jay selected the appropriate mug and handed it to Marissa, who took it but didn’t make a move to sample the contents.
“Fresh ginger and lemon juice sweetened with honey,” Jay informed her.
“Oh.” Marissa sniffed the contents of her mug, and the aroma must have been appealing for she took a tentative sip. And another. Her sigh as she exhaled told Jay the concoction was hitting the right spot and settling her stomach.
“Thank you.” Marissa sounded grudging, like she’d been prepared to find fault only to have the rug pulled from beneath her feet.
“You’re welcome,” Jay said, taking care to keep her tone carefully neutral rather than give in to the illogical desire to say the words too sweetly, thus highlighting Marissa’s bad manners.
Tyler caught her eye and mouthed, Baby steps.
Jay nodded, understanding he meant Marissa’s hostile attitude toward her had thawed a little, rather than the more literal interpretation of an infant walking. Or an adult taking very small steps. Or even a number of very small steps leading somewhere.
She snatched the colas from the tray and tossed one to him. “I’ll be back in half an hour or so.”
“Going jogging?”
Michael took his mug of black coffee from the tray. “She’s taking a look at my laptop. It’s taking far too long to boot up.”
Caro reached for a plate and loaded it with two sandwiches. She brandished it at Jay. “Take these with you. By the time you get back these gannets will have eaten everything.”
“Thanks.” Jay accepted the plate even though she wasn’t hungry and didn’t need to eat in order to maintain her body’s optimum physical condition for another thirty-two hours.
“Laptop’s in the study,” Michael said. “AKA Tyler’s old bedroom.”
“Thanks.” She tapped her wrist where a watch would be if she wore one and waited for him to acknowledge the start of their wager. He nodded. Intercepting Tyler’s quizzical glance, Jay smiled to reassure him that all was well, and then turned on her heel and left them to their discussions.
The instant she entered Tyler’s old room the memories slammed her. She sat on the edge of the bed and trailed her fingers across the comforter. It had been here, sitting on this very bed, that she had become so overwhelmed by her body’s responses to Tyler’s nearness that she’d fantasized about kissing him properly, thoroughly, as she’d seen intimate human couples do. The reality of sharing her first “real” kiss with Tyler had been far sweeter, far more devastating than any fantasies. It still was.
Michael’s laptop sat on Tyler’s old desk alongside a stack of papers in an open briefcase—student assignments from the look of the notations that had been scrawled in red pen. The wobbly chair—the one that had nearly toppled Matt on his butt when he’d sat in it to plot Shawn’s downfall with Tyler—had been replaced with a new, ergonomic office-style chair. The bookshelf was now stuffed with textbooks, rather than music and art books and sci-fi paperbacks.
Jay rose from the bed and wandered to the window. Tweaking aside the curtain she peered outside, into the neighboring garden. Her gaze fixed on the tree she’d climbed to spy on Tyler and Matt. It had been an extremely successful mission. She’d discovered the secret that had bound Tyler to Nessa, and the extent of Shawn’s involvement. It had also reassured her that Matt was at heart a good person, meaning she’d not been forced to take steps to “discourage” him from pursuing Caro.
Fifi, the elderly neighbor’s dog wandered into view. It squatted to urinate beneath a scraggly bush, then trotted off to lie in a patch of sun. Jay smiled as it rolled on its back and wiggled its body, scratching its back on the coarse grass. For some inexplicable reason its antics had always amused her.
She turned her attention to Michael’s laptop. While she’d been daydreaming, time had ticked onward. Now she had but six minutes to crack his password. She booted it up and sure enough, there was a bios level password to contend with. She’d have been disappointed to find anything less. She sat in the chair, put her unopened soda on the desk, and got to work.
Michael stuck his head through the doorway to find her perusing a promising job possibility within easy walking distance of her home. “I gave you just over a minute extra to get up here and get started,” he said. “I see I shouldn’t have bothered.”
She didn’t tell him she’d wasted over half the allotted time lost in the past and watching Fifi from the window. That would be rubbing salt into the wound. “I am an exception rather than a rule,” she said. “There would be few people who could have gotten in this quickly.”
“Gonna tell me how you did it?”
“Of course not. Where would be the fun in that?”
“Touché.” He mock-saluted her. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“I promise I won’t snoop,” she said as he turned away.
He paused and half-turned back to her. “I’ve got nothing to hide. Not anymore.”
“I know. It was simply meant as the kind of reassurance I presume one would give in this situation.”
His lips quirked. “When a super-computer-savvy
cyborg is using your laptop, you mean.”
“Yes. And I meant what I said. I won’t snoop… unless you wish me to assess your teaching materials.”
“Thanks but no thanks. I reckon I can manage.”
“I reckon so, too.”
Seven minutes later, Caro wandered into the study. “Got it sorted yet?”
“There was nothing much to sort.” Jay popped the tab on her soda and chugged half the contents.
“Don’t know how you can do that without your eyes watering and your taste buds going numb with shock,” Caro said.
Jay set the soda aside. “Mad cyborg skills have to be good for something.”
“So. Whatcha doin’?” Caro perched on the edge of the desk and swung her jeans-clad leg. She paused on the second swing and pointed her toes, rotating her ankle to the left and then right. “What d’you think about these boots?”
“Other than your mother not insisting you take them off when you’re inside?”
“Mom’s a bit distracted about other stuff right now. You know, in case you hadn’t noticed. Seriously, what do you think?”
Jay cast her gaze over the mid-calf-length high-heeled boots that laced up the front. “They’re very—” She searched for the right word. “Cute.”
Caro’s brows drew together and her lips curved downward.
Uh oh, wrong word. “I mean ‘cute’ in a retro, high-fashion way.”
The frown turned upside down. “Got them on sale at this amazing boutique. I’ve been paying them off but I picked them up last week.”
“An excellent investment,” Jay said, because it seemed the right thing to say.
“I thought so, too. They look hot with tights and a short skirt, too—very versatile.”
“What’s with all the black?” Jay asked, wondering whether Caro had eschewed the jewel tones she usually favored because such colors were no longer “in”.
Her friend shrugged. “I’m behind on the laundry so I had to pack light. And black goes with everything.” She tugged on the neckline of the black lace shirt she wore over a tight black tank. “Too much?”
Jay shook her head. “Not with your hair. The combination is rather stunning—like you’re a slim black candle and your hair is the flame.”
Caro leaned over to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Best. Friend. Ever.”
“In answer to your first question, I’m checking out situations vacant.”
“For you, or Tyler?”
“Me. Tyler has enough to do already.”
Caro’s eyes widened. “You haven’t blown through all your father’s inheritance already, have you?”
“No, of course not.” She could still purchase a small country. Or perhaps two.
“Then enlighten me, grasshopper, why on earth would you want to go out and work if you don’t have to?”
Jay reached for her soda and swirled the contents around in the can. How strange that the simple act of holding something in one’s hand could make one feel less vulnerable, as if a mere can of cola had the power to take the emotional sting from answering awkward questions. “Normal people our ages have jobs to help pay our way through college, or what have you. I want to understand what it’s like to be employed. I want to be—”
“Normal?”
“Yes.”
“This is about Tyler, isn’t it?”
Jay cocked her head and fixed Caro with a look that she hoped conveyed mild helplessness. “Isn’t everything?”
Caro snickered and then sighed. “Lemme guess. Dumbass is too proud to accept any financial help from you, which is why he’s living in that dump with Bongo and Wolowitz, and—”
“Bongo and Wolowitz?”
“Pete’s best friend is his bong, which is just one of the many reasons why he can’t hold onto a girlfriend. And Chandler has this whole waaay too tight skinny jeans and loud shirts thing going on, like Howard Wolowitz from—”
“The Big Bang Theory.”
“And—” Caro rolled her eyes at yet another interruption when she was so obviously on a roll “—that’s also why he won’t move into what I can only assume is a really gorgeous space because you have excellent taste when it comes to housing.”
“You’re a very smart, intuitive person Caro Davidson.”
Caro huffed on her pearly-tinted nails and buffed them on her shirt. “I have my moments.”
“Do you have any advice for me?” Jay asked.
“When it comes to my brother? I say go for it. Get a job. Get a life that doesn’t revolve around him. He’ll soon figure out he’s being ridiculous.”
Jay couldn’t stop her own brows from crinkling as Caro’s words sank in. “Does my life truly revolve around Tyler?”
Caro’s I’m-telling-you-this-for-your-own-good expression softened. “Kinda. Look, I understand. You want to make things easier for him. You want the best for him. It’s called being in love. But if you truly want to be ‘normal’ then you have to start thinking about what’s best for you, too. Do you want to get a job?”
“I think it would be… enlightening.”
“That’s one word for it, I guess. At least with your super-cyborg-skills you can pretty much pick and choose. What have you found so far?”
“This one looks interesting.” Jay angled the laptop toward Caro.
Caro scanned the page. A laugh burst from her throat. “Omigod. You so need to apply for that one.”
“Really?”
“Really. Seriously, Jay. This would be perfect for you. I mean it.” Caro squeezed her shoulder.
Jay didn’t believe Caro would mislead her for the purpose of inflicting humiliation but she couldn’t understand the glee that was pouring off her friend in waves. “Then what is so amusing?”
“Just picturing the expression on my brother’s face when he discovers what you’ve chosen as a career path.”
~~~
Chapter Ten
The phone’s harsh blare shattered Nessa’s daydreams. She vaulted off the bed, scattering the fashion magazines Jay had bought for her. She sprinted from the room. A moment’s indecision at the doorway… she’d never make it to the downstairs phone in time. She turned right and headed for Jay’s room. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo in her chest. Please let it be the café calling to say she’d gotten the job. Please! She snatched the phone from the cradle. “Hello?”
“Hello, Nessa.”
Her hopes shriveled. She’d recognize that cold, soulless voice anywhere. Her legs wouldn’t hold her upright anymore and she folded like a ragdoll until her butt hit the floor. “H-how did you get this number? Jay told me it’s unlisted.”
“I have my ways. I haven’t heard from you in a while. What else do you have to report?”
She closed her eyes and mustered every last scrap of courage she had. Her mouth was so dry she had to swallow a couple of times to work enough moisture into her mouth to get the word out. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“That’s right.”
“I see.”
Deep breath, Nessa. “Look, Sixer. Jay and I have our issues but she’s been really good to me, buying me clothes and cooking me meals and letting me stay and all.” She was gabbling. She knew it but she couldn’t stop herself. “I don’t want to spy on her. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“You have changed your tune. Now you call being half-strangled an ‘issue’. Interesting.”
His attitude piqued Nessa’s temper. He spoke to her like he thought she was too stupid to think for herself. “She had a nightmare, okay? She dreamed her boyfriend was dead—like, over and over. It did her head in. She was half-asleep when she lashed out. She didn’t meant to hurt me.”
“Interesting.”
“Will you freaking well quit saying that? Jeez!” Seconds later, realizing what she’d said, the way she’d spoken to him, she choked on the moan welling up in her throat. This was not a man to lose your temper with.
“You’re in her bedroom—her private domain. Correct?�
�
Her skin crawled. Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed it down, willing herself not to retch. The only way he could know that was if he was watching her. Right now. “Yes.”
“Search it.”
“What do you want? Her laptop or something?”
“Relax, Nessa. I don’t want her laptop—she wouldn’t risk storing anything important externally. I merely wish to see Jay through your eyes—to gain valuable insight, if you will. I want you to search her room and take a mental note of anything that seems strange or out of place. I’m more interested in what you don’t find. You have one hour.”
“But—”
“No buts, Nessa. If you want the money I promised you, you’ll do as I ask.”
“I don’t want your money!” Bastard thought money was the answer to everything—just like Shawn.
“Do this one thing for me, Nessa, and I will leave you alone.”
Hope made her voice squeaky. “Y-you promise?”
“So long as you keep to our agreement, I give you my word.”
Nessa stifled a hysterical giggle. Agreement? Some agreement. He’d sucked her in with the offer of money, then scared her witless by telling her exactly what would happen to her if she told anyone about him and what he’d asked her to do. Jay’s nightmare about Tyler dying had nothing on Nessa’s nightmares.
“Fine.” She hung up on him, gasping at her own daring. She wrapped her arms about her middle and sucked in one deep breath after another.
When she’d calmed, she crawled to her feet and glanced about the room, wondering where to start, knowing she would have to be careful not to disturb anything. But people had a sixth sense about stuff like this. They could walk into their bedroom and know their private space had somehow been violated. God. What was she going to do?
She knew Tyler was expecting her to pull something—just waiting for her to step out of line. And Jay…. Jay trusted her. Now she was going to have to break that trust and prove Tyler right.
Tears of frustration and anger pricked her eyes. Fuck. It wasn’t frickin’ fair! She itched to pick up the phone and call Jay, warn her, beg for help. But Sixer was out there, somewhere, watching. And she knew—knew with the utmost certainty—he didn’t make idle threats. She didn’t want to be another statistic, a no-hoper who’d ended her life broken and battered and dead in a Dumpster, victim of a supposed drug deal gone wrong. She wanted to live.
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