Xavier pushed a few glass slides over and leaned forward. “We had a lot of setbacks, but we finally got it to work. We’ve been testing the stack using our cooling system and have, at this time, reached maximum capacity.”
“So, just how fast is maximum capacity?” I pulled out a stool and joined them at the counter. “How fast were you able to make the microprocessor work?”
Elvis smiled behind his visor. “Hold on to your hat, Lexi. We improved the speed by two thousand times the maximum they are capable of doing now.”
“What?” My breathing sounded harsh in my helmet. “Two thousand times? Are you freaking serious? Elvis, that’s just impossible. No way.”
“Way.”
It boggled my mind. The twins had somehow invented the impossible. Beyond impossible. The implications were staggering. The tech world was about to be presented with the most important discovery since the microchip in 1958, and I had a front-row seat.
Chapter Twelve
Slash texted me he was running late and wouldn’t be by my place until after ten o’clock. That worked well for me because it gave me plenty of time to unwind. I had just started a new level in “Hollow Realm” and was seriously kicking butt against an army of ogres. Neither Elvis nor Xavier were online, but Wally had recently gotten hooked, so he and I were merging our armies to face the threat.
It was past ten when I heard the door open and the beep of my alarm signaling someone had entered. I sent a message to Wally that I was signing off.
I stretched and walked into the foyer. Slash had set down his briefcase but hadn’t removed his coat. He just stood there staring out my window, not saying anything.
“Hey,” I said quietly.
He came to me, ran a hand lightly over my hair and leaned in for a kiss. “Hey, back. How was your day?”
“Amazing. Incredible. One for the history books.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That good?”
“That good.”
“I suppose you can’t tell me a thing about it.”
It was harder than I expected to keep it from him, because he was one of the few people in the entire world who would totally understand and appreciate the importance of what the twins had invented. I wondered if he’d ever felt that way about his work and wanting to talk it over with me.
“I’m sorry. I wish. I really wish I could, Slash.”
“I know.”
The fact that he knew, and understood, didn’t ease my desire to tell him.
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Go pack an overnight bag.”
I hadn’t seen that coming. “An overnight bag? I have to work tomorrow.”
“I know. At the fab in Baltimore?”
“Yes.”
“Then bring whatever you want to wear to work.”
“Why?” I stepped back, regarded him thoughtfully. “Where are we going?”
His eyes met mine, held. “It’s a surprise.”
I stared at him for a beat more, then went to my bedroom and put some clothes, shoes and a toiletry kit into my backpack. My curiosity was on overdrive. I walked back to the living room where Slash was pacing. He always did that when he was nervous, which wasn’t very often. My curiosity was turning into concern.
“Ready?” he asked me.
“Yes. When do I get to know where we are going?”
“When we get there. Come on.”
Once we headed out, the FBI pulled in behind us. Slash took the interstate north toward Baltimore, but remained silent. I shifted in my seat, folding my hands on my lap and trying not to be anxious. I failed miserably.
Slash punched a button on the stereo and soft piano music filled the SUV.
I listened for a minute. “Tsang?”
“Did you guess or did you know?”
“A little of both. I haven’t heard this piece before, but something in the rhythm seems familiar.”
We listened for a few more minutes. As a song was ending, I turned in my seat to look at him.
“You’re nervous.”
He took his gaze off the road for a moment. “Why do you say that?”
“When I came out of the bedroom, you were pacing. You always do that when you’re nervous. You’re also drumming your fingers on the steering wheel.”
“To the beat of the music.”
“We’re between songs.”
He paused, listened to the silence, and then stopped drumming his fingers.
“Slash, where are we going?”
He took my hand, lifted it his lips and pressed a warm kiss against my skin. “You’ll see.”
I sat back in my seat as a piano riff filled the air. If he insisted on being mysterious, there was nothing I could do about it.
I watched out the window, noting which exits he took. He was headed directly downtown toward the Inner Harbor, the nicest part of the city. We drove past the expensive restaurants and glittering lights of the city, until he drove up to a closed garage at the base of a high-rise. He rolled down the window and pressed his wallet to a metal stand. As the garage door opened, I observed the FBI tail pull over to the curb and park. Slash drove the SUV inside, parking it at a spot near the elevator. He hopped out and grabbed my bag.
“Come on,” he said, taking my hand.
Our footsteps sounded loud against the concrete floor. There were a few cars in the garage, but otherwise it was eerily empty. We reached an elevator and Slash pushed the button. After a moment it dinged and we got on. Slash pushed his wallet against a pad on the elevator control panel and the elevator began to rise.
“Are you going to tell me where we are?”
“Soon.”
When the elevator opened, we walked off onto a nicely carpeted hallway. Slash stopped in front of a door with a gold knocker. The door number was 1202. He withdrew his wallet and pulled out a key card. He slipped it into the opening and pulled it out quickly. The door blinked green and beeped. He opened the door and motioned for me to enter first.
I stepped into a dark room. Slash followed me in, reached over my shoulder and tapped out a code on an alarm system. He flicked on the light and I blinked in the sudden brightness. After my eyes adjusted, I saw we stood in a small foyer. Ahead of me was a living room and to the right, a kitchen. A hallway stretched into the darkness on my left.
I looked at Slash. “Is this your apartment?”
“One of three. I have one in New York and one in Italy.”
Emotion swamped me, taking me off guard. Affection, surprise and love. I didn’t understand why it was so hard for him to show me his apartment and open this part of his life to me, but I suspected there was far more significance to the gesture than met the eye.
I took a couple of steps forward on the hardwood floor. The living room had a magnificent row of floor-to-ceiling glass windows, void of window coverings of any kind. The lights of the city twinkled and glowed. I crossed the room and looked out the window.
“You have a nice view of the harbor.”
“It reminds me of my home in Sperlonga. It’s no coincidence I’m within walking distance of Baltimore’s Little Italy.”
I turned away from the view and looked about the living room. He switched on the lamp and set my bag down. The room had a black leather couch, two side tables, one lamp and a black coffee table. That was it. No books or bookshelves, no rugs, no television and no stereo equipment. The walls were bare. No artwork or mirrors hung on the wall. Calling Slash a minimalist would be an understatement even for me.
“No television?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No time. Even if I did, I’d stream.”
“What about football?”
“American or European?”
“I think that answered my question.”
I took it and he led me into the kitchen, which was modern with clean lines and stainless-steel appliances. There was an espresso machine and a bowl of red apples on the countertop. He opened the refrigerator. It was empty except for a dozen water bottles, one carton of milk, a half dozen eggs and a block of cheese wrapped in clear plastic.
“Wow,” I said. “You’ve got even less food than me, which I thought was a near impossibility.”
He grinned and, still holding my hand, drew me down the hallway. He stopped at the first room on the right, turning on the light. It was a home gym with a multifunction bench, weight rack, curl pad, T-bar row handle on a barbell and leg developer. A treadmill stood in the corner in front of a wall-to-floor mirror and next to a small refrigerator and water cooler. A stack of clean towels sat on top of the refrigerator and several discarded ones were in a basket on the floor in the corner.
“Well, at least I know how you keep in such good shape.”
He grinned and turned off the light. We passed a bathroom and then stopped at another room. The door was closed and alarmed by a biometric keypad. He pressed a finger to it and it opened. I felt a blast of cold air and knew where I was before he turned on the light.
His office. A large desk stood in the middle of the room flanked by a variety of printers and scanners. There were three desktop computers and two laptops, all linked, on the desk alone. The soft whir of the computer equipment was like a siren’s call to me.
I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice. “May I?”
“You may.”
I wandered in and looked around, then had to stop myself from drooling. The equipment was expensive and at least half of it I’d never seen before. My fingers twitched. I wanted to sit down and touch it all.
“Holy cow,” I breathed. “I could spend all night in here. Maybe all my life.”
He smiled. “Not tonight, you won’t. I’ve got other plans for you.” He crooked his finger at me, so I left the room and followed him down the hall to the next room, which was clearly the master bedroom.
A king-size bed had been positioned in the middle of the room. At the foot of the bed was a black bench with a white cushion. Other than a low dresser with six drawers, there was no more furniture. The huge walk-in closet was tidy, perfectly arranged and less than half-full with his clothes, jackets, belts, ties and shoes.
“The bathroom is in here.” He led me into a large room. To my immediate left was an enormous standing shower with glass doors.
I peeked in. “There are three showerheads in here, Slash.” I couldn’t imagine why anyone would need three showerheads to get clean.
“One is a full-body spray, one is a kinetic body massage and the other is soft rain.” Slash explained, leaning closer. “It feels great when all three are on you at the same time.”
“They all rinse you, right?”
“Right, but in significantly different ways.” His mouth curved into a smile. “I think you’ll like how they feel.”
“You want me to shower here?” Suddenly he’d gone from showing me his place to inviting me to shower in it.
“If you wish.”
Of course I wished for it, but even more, I wanted to know what had changed his mind about showing me this previously secret part of his life. I just didn’t know how to ask in a way that didn’t seem intrusive.
I walked over to a spa bathtub with jets and turned around in a circle. “My entire apartment might just be the size of this bathroom.”
“It’s a lot for one person, but it’s comfortable.”
“I bet.”
He took my hand, pulling me against him, then tilted my face up. Emotion churned in his eyes. “Would you like to stay the night?”
“You asked me to pack an overnight bag, so I assume that was your intention.”
“It was. But I’m asking you formally.”
“Why?” I studied his face. “You could have just shown me your apartment, Slash. You didn’t have to invite me to stay the night, too.”
“I want you to stay. It was important to you to see where I live, and therefore, it’s important to me.”
“Then why are you so nervous?”
He hesitated. “I’ve never had anyone here before.”
“Why not?”
He stepped up beside me. “Because I don’t typically share this part of my life with many people. Actually, with any people. Until you.” He put his hands on my shoulders, coaxing me closer. “It’s a big step for me.”
“What made you change your mind about showing me?”
“You.” There was a huskiness to his voice. “I never wanted to share this part of my life with anyone before I met you. Part of it was the nature of my work—it doesn’t lend itself to long-term personal relationships—and part of it was my reluctance to open up the way I knew I’d need to in order to sustain such a relationship. I simply wasn’t prepared for the way I feel about you.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I never wanted to make you uncomfortable, Slash.”
“I know.” He laughed hoarsely. “But for the first time I’ve met someone who can force me out of my comfort zone. I’m still figuring it out.” He tugged on my hand. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”
It was an abrupt end to the conversation, but we had a lot to think about. For now I took off my clothes and left them folded on top of the dresser. I slipped on an oversize T-shirt while Slash stood shirtless at one of the sinks washing his face.
“Come.” He motioned at me from the bathroom doorway, a toothbrush in one hand.
I joined him at the counter. We brushed our teeth, smiling at each other in the mirror. I don’t know what I’d expected when I asked to see his place, but it wasn’t this contented sense of familiarity.
I brushed and spat. “Slash?”
“Hmm?”
“You were wrong.”
“About what?”
“About your place. It does have warmth.”
He leaned against the countertop and shook his head. “No it doesn’t.”
“Really? Why do you say that?”
“Because until tonight this was just an apartment, a place to shower and sleep.”
“And tonight?”
“Tonight, with you here, it’s home.”
Chapter Thirteen
Something shifted in our relationship. It’s hard to explain, but there was a new, intangible component to our lovemaking. Somehow, by allowing me access to his personal space, Slash had opened a part of himself. Frankly, I was astonished I even recognized the change. Either I had become surprisingly intuitive or Slash had become easier for me to read.
After a while of lying in silent contentment in each other’s arms, Slash got up to go the bathroom.
I sat up, too. “I’m going to the kitchen to get a drink of water.”
“Okay. Bring a big glass and we’ll share.”
I fumbled around in the dark for my T-shirt. When I got close to the dresser I turned on a small lamp. I slipped the shirt over my head and padded out into the hallway. There was a room directly across from the bedroom—one Slash hadn’t shown me.
I wondered why.
The door was closed. There wasn’t a keypad on the door like there was with his office, so curiosity won out. I pressed down on the handle intending to take a quick peek, but the door was locked. I wondered why Slash hadn’t shown me what was in the room and, if he lived alone, why he kept it locked.
I went to the kitchen, looked around until I found a glass and drank from it while standing in front of the refrigerator. I filled the glass again
and brought it back to Slash, who finished it off. When I climbed back into bed, Slash slid his arms around me and kissed my head. I pressed my ice-cold feet against his legs and heard him catch his breath.
“Mio Dio, how can you possibly have such cold feet all the time?”
“In return I might ask why you are so hot all the time. And I’m not talking about looks, although if the shoe fits...”
He chuckled and tightened his arms around me. “These are my favorite moments—when it’s just the two of us. I like having you to myself.”
“I’ve kind of become partial to it myself.”
He stroked my hair. “Tell me something about yourself I may not know.”
“You already know everything of interest. I’m a pretty boring person.”
“Not true.” He wound his fingers in my hair. “I discover something new and intriguing about you every day.”
I lifted my head. “You do? Like what?”
“Like you’ve been wondering where I lived, but you were nervous to ask me about it.”
“That’s calling the kettle black. You were nervous to show me.”
He traced my lower lip with his thumb. “And yet here we are.”
“Yes, here we are. You know, we’re not so different, Slash.”
“I never thought we were.”
“You didn’t? Why not?”
He rolled me over on top of him, tightening his arms around my waist. I was effectively pinned against him. I couldn’t see his eyes in the dark, but his voice deepened with emotion. “I knew from that first moment I met you in your bedroom. You were dressed in that ridiculous T-shirt and you challenged me to a hack.”
I remembered waking up and seeing him sitting on my bed. I’d had no idea who he was or how he’d gotten into my bedroom and past my security alarm. “You do know you scared the heck out of me.”
He chuckled. “Which is why you decided to test my skills?”
“Well, I figured since you were already there...” Although I’d been terrified at the time, the memory made me smile now.
No Room for Error: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Seven Page 7