No Room for Error: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Seven

by Julie Moffett

  “And yet, I still wish to know more about you. Come, tell me one of your dreams.”

  The question surprised me. “Why?”

  “Because I wish to know your heart. We Italians are funny like that.”

  His request fascinated me. “A dream?”

  “Si, a dream, a goal, a desire of the heart. Something you’ve always thought about doing. It could be a place you always wanted to visit, something you wish you could own, or lifetime goal you’d like to achieve. It can be anything...or everything.”

  “That’s an intriguing question.” I considered. “It can be anything?”

  “Anything.”

  I’ve had a lot of goals in my life, almost all of them involving breaking through the glass ceiling of the tech world and ruling it through my keyboard. But now that I thought about it, that wasn’t what really drove me...at least not anymore.

  I placed my elbows on the bed on either side of Slash, my hair spilling onto his shoulders. “Well, there is this one thing, but I don’t want you to laugh.”

  “Ah, cara, dreams are no laughing matter.”

  Still I hesitated. It was one thing to dream, but it was something entirely different to share that dream with someone else. I’d never told anyone about this, but now that he’d asked, it hovered on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to share it with him.

  He waited patiently. Not rushing me or insisting—just waiting to see what I would say, if anything.

  I plunged ahead before I lost my nerve. “Well, all this work with Piper, Wally and Brandon has made me realize how much I like working with kids. There’s something deeply rewarding about showing them the ins and outs of cybersecurity.”

  “And?”

  “And I like the thought of instructing them and kids like them.”

  “A teacher?”

  “Yes and no. I like the idea of hands-on teaching, much like what we did in New York, but not just that. I’m thinking from the top down—crafting an entire program, a special academy of high school students dedicated solely to the study of cybersecurity. The academy would teach all the subjects—math, science, English, physics—but tying them into a full understanding of cybersecurity. I think that’s their future—our future. Lexi Carmichael, Headmistress. What do you think?”

  He lifted his head and kissed my nose. “I think it sounds magnificent.”

  “Can I say I’m surprised you don’t sound surprised?”

  He rolled me over, so that this time he was on top. He kissed my chin, my neck. I shifted my head so he could have better access and sighed in pleasure as his mouth grazed the sensitive skin behind my ear.

  “Actually I cannot think of a better use of your talents than to shape the minds of young people.”

  His confidence warmed me. I touched his cheek with the pads of my fingers. “Okay. Your turn.”

  “Me?”

  “No, the other guy kissing my neck. Of course, you. Fair is fair.”

  He rolled off me onto his back, putting his arm across his forehead.

  I sat up. “Okay. That was awkward. Did I say something wrong?”

  “No.”

  “You pulled away. I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

  He paused and then sighed. “This kind of intimacy is unusual for me.”

  “You started it.”

  “I know. It’s just I don’t know what to say.”

  “Why? Because you already have everything?”

  “No. Because I don’t.”

  I hugged my legs to my chest, resting my chin on my knees. “Really, Slash? You’re the most accomplished person I’ve ever met. What could possibly be left for you to achieve other than total world domination?”

  I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m certainly encouraged by your high opinion of me.”

  “I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

  “Perhaps. I...I have a hard time trusting people.”

  “Why?”

  He was silent for so long, I wasn’t sure he’d answer. Finally he spoke, but it was not to answer my question. “Do you know what I dream about, aside from you?”

  “You dream about me?”

  “All the time. But I also dream about having deep and lasting friendships—the kind you have with Basia and...with Elvis. I envy you that.”

  Wow. I totally hadn’t seen that one coming. Friendships? Everyone liked Slash, admired him and wanted to be like him.

  “That’s not true. You have lots of friends. Finn, Basia, Elvis, Xavier, even my interns—they all like you. Plus, I consider you an excellent friend and lover.”

  “Si, I have you. Thank God for that.” He kissed the gold cross around his neck. “The others...they like me, perhaps. I agree there is potential for deeper friendships. But they are not truly my friends. Not yet. Now they accept me because of you.”

  I started to protest and then I considered. Was Slash right? Elvis, Basia, Xavier. They liked him—right? But were they really his friends in the same way they were mine?

  The truth hit me harder than I expected.

  “You have Tito,” I said quietly.

  I’d met Tito Blickensderfer when Slash and I had gone to Rome to help his uncle clear his name after falling under suspicion for stealing euros from the Vatican Bank. Tito worked for the Swiss Guard protecting the Pope and had helped us clear Slash’s uncle’s name. He was a great guy and I would have said that even if he hadn’t almost been killed trying to help us.

  Slash squeezed my hand. “Tito is perhaps the closest I have to a friend after you. But even he is more like a comrade than a friend. Friendships do not come easy to me.”

  “Me either,” I admitted. “But I’ve been lucky.”

  “No, you’ve worked hard at it. You’ve been genuine, open and truthful in your dealings with people. It’s rarer than you may realize. Your openness and honesty inspires a special kind of dedication within others, myself included. You’re unguarded in your attempts at friendship, whereas I seem unable to do that.”

  I struggled for the right words. “I didn’t know you felt this way, Slash. I’ve felt alone most of my life, so I understand where you’re coming from. Forging friendships has been a pretty bumpy journey for me. You seem so capable at everything, the friends thing never even crossed my mind. I guess everyone has their secrets, even someone as successful as you.”

  “Si, we all have our secrets...and our demons. The trick is finding someone whose demons can play well with our own. For me, that’s no easy task.”

  I wanted to ask him for further clarification, but I sensed he was done with the topic. The emotional intimacy we were veering into seemed to have made him uncomfortable. Honestly, it had made me a little uncomfortable, too. We needed time to process. All of this deep emotional bonding was new territory for both of us.

  We lay there in each other’s arms, drifting off to sleep. But something was still bothering me. Now that Slash had praised my honesty and openness, I felt guilty for trying to look into the locked room.

  Shifting in his arms, I decided to be direct. “Slash, why didn’t you show me what’s in that other bedroom?”

  He stroked my hair, his mouth warm against my cheek. “Ah, you noticed, did you?”

  “I not only noticed, I tried to peek. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry. But neither of us is ready for what’s in that room yet. Okay?”

  His voice didn’t sound angry or sleepy. I wondered if he’d been lying there that whole time thinking.

  “Okay, Slash. I trust you.”

  And I did. Implicitly. He’d already revealed a part of himself I’d never seen before. I understood all too well the emotional risk he’d taken in doing it. If he wasn’t ready to reveal any more of himself to me at this time, I wasn’t going to pus
h. He’d been patient for me, and now it was my turn.

  He pulled me close and murmured something in Italian against my hair.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle.’ It’s an old Italian proverb. I’m just talking to myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Because sometimes I need to remind myself not to mess this up.”

  I wasn’t sure why he would be worried about messing up, but I was too tired to figure it out. Tomorrow I’d replay the conversation and see if I could determine the significance. For tonight it was enough to simply lie in his arms.

  “Good night, Slash.”

  He leaned his chin against my forehead. “Buonanotte, cara.”

  As I slipped into sleep, I felt hopeful that maybe a bit of the mystery that was Slash had finally started to unravel.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning I ran into Basia in the bathroom at the fab. She looked both beautiful and professional in a soft pink blouse and black skirt. Her dark bob looked sleek and shiny.

  I stared at my reflection. My ponytail was stuck to my head after several hours in the hazmat helmet and my blouse was wrinkled. But my eyes were happy and a permanent smile seemed stuck to my lips. I hummed as I washed my hands.

  “So, how’s it going in the lab?” she asked me, smoothing down a stray hair.

  “Great. We’re making a lot of progress.” I snagged a paper towel and wiped my hands dry. “It’s amazing.”

  “Yes, it is. So, how does Slash feel about you leaving for Indonesia?”

  “He’s okay with it.” I aimed and shot the paper towel at the wastebasket. I missed. “He’s good like that.”

  “He’s good at a lot of things.” Her eyes softened as she met my gaze in the mirror. “So, how are you two doing?”

  I picked up the paper towel and threw it at the wastebasket again. This time it went in. “We’re great, surprisingly. I don’t know how significant it is, but Slash showed me his apartment in Baltimore for the first time last night. I stayed overnight at his place. He said he’d never brought anyone there before.”

  Basia’s eyes widened. “He did? Really? Do you know what this means?”

  I thought, but came up empty. “No, what does it mean?”

  “It means Slash has moved things to the next level.”

  Holy cow. Levels hadn’t been mentioned in Twelve Steps to Keep Your Relationship Alive and Healthy, which I’d just finished reading last week. Panic caused a small hitch in my throat. “Wait. There are levels? No one told me anything about levels.”

  “Yes, there are levels. Did anything else change between you?”

  Wow. Where to start? “Like what kind of change exactly?” I asked cautiously.

  “Emotionally.”

  I hesitated for too long. “Look, Basia, I just spent the night with him at his place. One night. That’s it.”

  “But something changed between you two. Something significant.”

  I sighed. “Okay, yes. Something changed. It seems more serious now.”

  “It’s because Slash is opening up to you emotionally. That’s a whole new level.”

  “I’m not clear about this level thing. Can you write it down and mark exactly where I am, where I need to be going, and provide a short summary of each level? Then I’ll be more prepared as we advance. Look, should I be nervous about this new level?”

  “Are you?”

  “Strangely, no. I liked being with him at his place. It felt normal.”

  “Oh, God.” She started pacing back and forth in front of the stalls. Thank goodness no other woman in the building needed to pee, because it would have been awkward having to conclude our heart-to-heart just when it was getting to the part where I’d start understanding what was going on. Hopefully. “It really is getting serious between the two of you.”

  “So, normal is serious?” I wished I had my laptop so I could take notes.

  “Yes. Lexi, think about it. You’re falling for him.”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious. I’ve already fallen for him, Basia. His apartment. Spent the night. Remember?”

  “I know that.” She threw up her hands. “What I mean is you’re forging a deeper, lasting connection with Slash. He’s letting you in. I’m beyond surprised. I didn’t expect it.”

  I thought about her words, realizing I was a little surprised myself. I’d never imagined myself capable of it, but here I was in brand-new emotional territory. It was a bit scary.

  “So, what’s his apartment like?” Basia gave a little squeal. “Spill. Inquiring minds want to know.”

  “Well, it’s nice, but he doesn’t have much furniture. He does have a cool home gym, three shower heads in a bathroom the size of my apartment, an office with super expensive tech equipment I sincerely hope he’ll let me explore in greater detail. Oh, and there’s a locked room.”

  “A locked room?”

  “Yes. He showed me everything else in the apartment, but one room stayed locked. It didn’t have a biometric lock on it like his office, but it was definitely locked. I tried to peek in. Later I asked him what was in that room.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said neither of us was ready for what was in that room.”

  Silence. Then Basia gave a quick small gasp before saying, “Oh. God.”

  She didn’t elaborate. “Oh, God, what?” A flicker of panic shot through me. “Basia, you can’t say ‘Oh, God’ without an explanation.”

  “You do know what’s in that locked room, right?”

  Was she kidding? I didn’t even know what color underwear I had on. “Of course I don’t know. I just told you I tried to peek and it was locked.”

  “For crying out loud, Lexi. Have you been living in a cave for the past year? Wait—don’t answer that. Of course I can tell you what’s in that locked room.”

  “You can? Then tell me.”

  “BDSM.”

  I waited for more information, but she remained silent. My cranky meter went up another notch. “You’d better have a good explanation why those letters have entered this conversation.”

  “Bondage and discipline, sadism and masochism. I bet Slash has his very own Red Room.”

  “What the heck is a Red Room?”

  “It’s a special room with sex toys and costumes. I’m talking handcuffs, blindfolds, collars, crops, whips. It’s quite popular these days. Erotic literature and movies have moved into the mainstream.”

  I wasn’t getting her leap of logic. “How can you possibly extrapolate a Red Room from a locked door?”

  “Because it makes perfect sense. This is Slash we are talking about. Don’t you get it? That’s why he said you weren’t ready. He has to break you in more.”

  “Break me in? I am not a horse.” I glared at her.

  She laughed again. “I told you Slash was the adventurous type.”

  “I can be adventurous, too, if I plan ahead. How hard can BDSM be? It’s just sex, right? I’m a quick study. I’ll research a bit and get up to speed.”

  She giggled. “You do that. I’m here if you have any questions.”

  We left the bathroom and I took a breath to calm myself. Priorities. I would simply balance work with pleasure.

  A little BDSM and a little microchip design.

  I could do this.

  Later I’d grab my laptop and take a quick tutorial on BDSM. I figured YouTube would certainly have at least a half dozen videos I could study for visual aid.

  Feeling better about my plan, I headed back to the lab and got to work.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Slash arrived at my place about ten o’clock, I was sitting on the couch with my laptop reading abo
ut micro capacitors. He dropped his briefcase by the door, hung his jacket in my coat closet, then walked over and kissed me on the cheek.

  “Hey,” I said, closing the laptop and setting it aside. “How was your day?”

  “Better now that I’m here.”

  “Did you already have dinner?”

  “Si. I had a dinner meeting. I was thinking about going for a short run, followed by some wine and conversation. I’d like to hear as much as you can tell me about your day. You want to join me?”

  “Yes to all three. I’ll just change into a sweatshirt and some shorts.”

  “Great. I’ll grab my bag from the car and let the FBI know what we’re up to.”

  “Okay.” I paused in the hallway. “Wait. Do they have to run with us?” That seemed creepy to me. Plus I didn’t want them to see me huffing and puffing.

  “I’m afraid so. I’ll give them our intended path and ask them to stay back a bit. We’re not going far and we won’t be long.”

  “Okay.”

  Slash disappeared outside and then returned with his bag. When we were both ready, we sat side-by-side on the couch tying our tennis shoes.

  “You won’t run too fast, right?” I asked. “I’m not in as good shape as you.”

  “I’ll let you set the pace.”

  “Thanks. Appreciate that.”

  We went out into the cool spring night. The moon was full and bright, and I was glad for my sweatshirt. Slash didn’t have anything on but a muscle T-shirt and running shorts. As he bent over to stretch his legs, he provided a nice view of his back end. He glanced over his shoulder and I immediately became fascinated with the pavement.

  “Aren’t you cold?” I tightened the scrunchie on my ponytail and shook out my legs.

  He shook his head. “No. Besides I’ll get hotter as we run.”

  The two agents, one male and one female, were out of the car, tying on tennis shoes. They were dressed in slacks and shirts, their guns in holsters beneath jackets.

  “You’re going running in that?” I asked them.

  The woman tightened her shoulder holster. “Jogging only. We only run in case of deadly peril or a jelly donut. Don’t worry. We’ll stay back just enough to keep you in our sights, okay?”