got on with it.
After half an hour, Jo came in, wearing old clothes, and helped. Balancing the time spent answering her questions and the instructions I had to give her against how much time I saved doing the job myself was a close thing, but we spent half the time laughing. Jo couldn’t have realized it, but it was exactly the distraction I needed.
Rom came and helped with the last part when Jo had to leave.
Afterwards, I let the engine run while I cleaned up.
Rom was leaning against my car, wiping his hands while he listened to the steady idle. I’d kept my shirt on, but he hadn’t. My eyes roved. He wasn’t my dream man, by any stretch, but he had pretty ripply bits when he moved around, and that dark wavy hair went so well with the gypsy brown eyes.
I sighed. The colonel would spontaneously implode if I somehow infected anyone else with prions, and his medical team wouldn’t rule out what they tactfully called ‘intimate contact’ as a method for infecting other people. So, the rules said no touch. But they didn’t say no look.
“Work out okay at Agonia?” he asked when I rejoined him.
“Yeah.” I rolled the coveralls into a plastic bag and tossed it in the trunk.
“It really not for fun?”
“Not for fun at all. Apart from my entrance, thanks to you.” I reached into the car and blipped the gas pedal. The engine revved up with no hesitation. Woo hoo.
He shrugged off the compliment. “You a PI?”
Rom didn’t speak too well, but that didn’t affect my judgment on his brain, and yeah, what I was doing for the colonel was closer to a sort of exotic PI job than police work. Except maybe the undercover stuff the DEA did. Allegedly.
“Yeah, something like that. Some of the time.”
Rom got the hint and backed off from asking about my work. I didn’t want people to know I was in the police. Not for any feelings on my part, but I didn’t want people reacting differently to me.
He stuck his hands deep into his pockets and eased his weight from one foot to the other.
“This been good for Jofranka,” he said finally. “She needs something to help her feel okay about herself. Strong. Smart. You know?”
I nodded. Helping people find their potential was something I enjoyed and I knew he was asking about that in his roundabout sort of way. Jo didn’t need a lot, she had a quick mind and a thirst to try things. But I could hardly recommend myself as a mentor—or friend. Not with the doubts hanging over me.
“I’ll think it over,” I said. “I’ll keep an eye open.”
I’d heard my cell ring a couple of times while I was working and I picked it up now to check who’d called. The number surprised me; it was a guy called Greg Whitman who I’d worked with at my last job.
I walked out of the garage to call him back.
When I’d managed to get out of the army’s laboratory, they’d recommended a safe, steady job. Some high watt light bulb decided that meant accounting. I was in no position to argue, and if spreadsheets and learning financial regulations was my ticket out, I was going to take it. The big thing going for it was they’d found me a position in a company here in my hometown of Denver.
It had worked out better than expected, right up until I blew the company apart by exposing the criminal behavior of the CEO. In the resulting chaos, Whitman had taken the best of the staff and the best of the clients and set up on his own. You could say I’d helped him, but I wasn’t expecting any calls from him, and I wasn’t going back to being a trainee accountant or bookkeeper.
“Amber! Thanks for calling back. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. I heard your new company is going great. Congratulations.”
“Ah, thanks. Look, Amber, I don’t want to take up too much of your time on the weekend. I’m due at the golf club in a few minutes, but do you think you could make time to come in on Monday and have a talk?”
“What about?”
“Well, y’know, what you did impressed
After half an hour, Jo came in, wearing old clothes, and helped. Balancing the time spent answering her questions and the instructions I had to give her against how much time I saved doing the job myself was a close thing, but we spent half the time laughing. Jo couldn’t have realized it, but it was exactly the distraction I needed.
Rom came and helped with the last part when Jo had to leave.
Afterwards, I let the engine run while I cleaned up.
Rom was leaning against my car, wiping his hands while he listened to the steady idle. I’d kept my shirt on, but he hadn’t. My eyes roved. He wasn’t my dream man, by any stretch, but he had pretty ripply bits when he moved around, and that dark wavy hair went so well with the gypsy brown eyes.
I sighed. The colonel would spontaneously implode if I somehow infected anyone else with prions, and his medical team wouldn’t rule out what they tactfully called ‘intimate contact’ as a method for infecting other people. So, the rules said no touch. But they didn’t say no look.
“Work out okay at Agonia?” he asked when I rejoined him.
“Yeah.” I rolled the coveralls into a plastic bag and tossed it in the trunk.
“It really not for fun?”
“Not for fun at all. Apart from my entrance, thanks to you.” I reached into the car and blipped the gas pedal. The engine revved up with no hesitation. Woo hoo.
He shrugged off the compliment. “You a PI?”
Rom didn’t speak too well, but that didn’t affect my judgment on his brain, and yeah, what I was doing for the colonel was closer to a sort of exotic PI job than police work. Except maybe the undercover stuff the DEA did. Allegedly.
“Yeah, something like that. Some of the time.”
Rom got the hint and backed off from asking about my work. I didn’t want people to know I was in the police. Not for any feelings on my part, but I didn’t want people reacting differently to me.
He stuck his hands deep into his pockets and eased his weight from one foot to the other.
“This been good for Jofranka,” he said finally. “She needs something to help her feel okay about herself. Strong. Smart. You know?”
I nodded. Helping people find their potential was something I enjoyed and I knew he was asking about that in his roundabout sort of way. Jo didn’t need a lot, she had a quick mind and a thirst to try things. But I could hardly recommend myself as a mentor—or friend. Not with the doubts hanging over me.
“I’ll think it over,” I said. “I’ll keep an eye open.”
I’d heard my cell ring a couple of times while I was working and I picked it up now to check who’d called. The number surprised me; it was a guy called Greg Whitman who I’d worked with at my last job.
I walked out of the garage to call him back.
When I’d managed to get out of the army’s laboratory, they’d recommended a safe, steady job. Some high watt light bulb decided that meant accounting. I was in no position to argue, and if spreadsheets and learning financial regulations was my ticket out, I was going to take it. The big thing going for it was they’d found me a position in a company here in my hometown of Denver.
It had worked out better than expected, right up until I blew the company apart by exposing the criminal behavior of the CEO. In the resulting chaos, Whitman had taken the best of the staff and the best of the clients and set up on his own. You could say I’d helped him, but I wasn’t expecting any calls from him, and I wasn’t going back to being a trainee accountant or bookkeeper.
“Amber! Thanks for calling back. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. I heard your new company is going great. Congratulations.”
“Ah, thanks. Look, Amber, I don’t want to take up too much of your time on the weekend. I’m due at the golf club in a few minutes, but do you think you could make time to come in on Monday and have a talk?”
“What about?”
“Well, y’know, what you did impressed
Similar Books
