Damn, he was charming. She shook off the unwelcome attraction. “You’re right, the poor glass was innocent. I was thinking too hard.”
“Credit for your thoughts?” He danced the credit chip over his fingertips.
She smiled at his antics and shook her head. “Already forgotten.”
He leaned closer, studying her.
Her gaze flicked over the bar, and she made a pretense of checking on the other customers. Instinct told her that he would be more perceptive than she’d like.
“Can I tell you about my sister?” Serious words. A serious face.
Damn, he was persistent. “We’re meeting tomorrow, Mr. Cutter. We can do story time then.” She used his last name as a shield, a way to maintain distance between them.
“Ash,” he said.
“What?” she asked.
“Just call me Ash. Mr. Cutter makes me... uncomfortable.”
That was weird, but fine, she would call him what he wanted. “Fine, Ash, we’re meeting tomorrow.”
“I went to see her tonight,” he blurted when she was about to turn away.
“Her?” Taryn asked, even though she knew what his answer would be.
“My sister. Hope.”
Sorrow coated his words and tugged at her heart. Enough so that she signaled to a customer down the bar that she would be with him in a moment. “At Tremaine headquarters?” Dammit, she really should wait to have this conversation.
But it was her job as a bartender to listen when customers spoke.Dammit.
“No,” he said softly. “The Tremaine hospital.”
Her jaw dropped open and she snapped it closed before Ash noticed. That was terrible. And would make it nearly impossible to get the girl out. She’d already been leaning toward rejecting his request. This would make that decision easier.
At least, that was what she told herself when she placed a comforting hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I’ll be right back. I need to take care of another customer.”
She poured two beers with an easy smile for the customer at the end of the bar and refilled Jed’s drink as she passed by. Despite outward appearances, her brain was still struggling to process what Ash had told her.
She drifted back toward him, drawn by an unwilling need to hear more.
“This is my sister,” he said as soon as she reached him. He slid his phone across the bar toward her.
Reluctant to take it, she nevertheless picked up the comm. A young woman with a hint of baby fat still in her cheeks looked out at her. If Taryn had to guess, she’d say the girl was around eighteen. Hope had an impish smile and gray eyes that sparkled. The dark hair that looked unruly on Ash fell into a tangle of curls threaded with blue, pink, and purple on his sister.
“Cute,” Taryn said. It took effort to keep a sense of distance. And with the next words out of her mouth, she completely failed. “She’s sick?” She set the phone back on the counter, turned away so Hope wasn’t staring hopefully back at her.
“Brain burn.” His voice caught with emotion. He flipped to another picture on his phone. If he hadn’t told Taryn that the two figures were the same person, she never would have guessed. Lank hair, slack features. So much medical equipment. “She’s in a coma.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Ever since he’d mentioned the hospital, Taryn had assumed some type of injury. She knew next to nothing about brain burn, only that it happened to hackers and was never good.
Using Hope’s injury and need for care to keep Ash in line was as effective as it was vile. The ruthless part of Taryn even admired it. She’d learned how threats could motivate people from the best.
“What happened?”
“It was a perfectly normal hack,” Ash said, his voice sad. “We’d made it past the early defenses. They weren’t too hard, weren’t too easy. No different than any other hack. Except it was. We just didn’t know it yet.”
“Hope’s a hacker too?” Dammit. Why had she asked that? Taryn didn’t want to give Ash false hope. Especially now that she’d seen all the equipment required to care for her.
