“You ran a fucking red light.” She points, as if I hadn’t noticed.
“While technically true. in Manhattan, there’s a law that says you have two seconds before you’re expected to stop.” As I expertly scoot around the open tailgate of a parked pickle truck, and swerve to miss a bus, she gasps again.
“Excuse me? Oh, never mind. Back to your case. What’s the reward?”
“A million dollars.” I flick a quick glance to her astonished face as I race to beat the next yellow light.
“Huh.” She dances her thumbs over her phone, reads, then hisses. “It says here he took a bullet straight to the frontal lobe. Because of the angle, they’ve ruled out suicide.”
“Mmm.” Following the Google lady’s directions, I cross the bridge and turn north on Eighth Avenue.
At the next traffic signal, she pokes my bicep with her index finger. “You have a pilot. Why me?”
“Mac asked for a few days off.”He did, last Christmas, so theoretically, I’m not lying.
Tilting her head, her eyes narrow. “Not according to him.”
Shit. Busted. “Okay, I admit it. I wanted to see you again.” If she wants honesty, I’ll give it to her with both barrels.
“Why not ask me out, like any normal person?”
“Would you have accepted if I did?” When I catch her gaze again, I hold back my smile. The tops of her cheeks flush bright red and the tip of her tongue flicks over her lower lip. Clearly the woman is attracted to me. Once I figure out what I did wrong, I can start over.
“Whatever.” As if erasing a blackboard, she scrubs the air with her right hand. “Back to the important stuff. If we find the killer, we split the reward fifty-fifty.”
“Whenwe find him.” My lips quirk up at the corners. This case is a piece of cake, hardly worthy of my talents. I only took it to spend time with her.
“Ego much?”
“No, simply stating facts.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see her mouth drop, readying for a snappy comeback but the Google lady beats her to it.
“You have arrived.” The map application flashes an image of our destination, a red brick building.
Circling the block a few times, I find a parking spot, and turn off the ignition.
“Can you grab Jonathan?” Landy jumps out of the car and opens the back door for me.
“Sure, but first, can I ask who we’re seeing?” I tuck the cumbersome half-man under my arm.
“My bad. I have an appointment with Dr. Jenna Jones.” She tucks her white blouse into her tight black pencil skirt and trots her sweet ass down the sidewalk.
Well fuck me.My opinion of Lanita’s hobby shifts. If the famous AI programmer agreed to speak with her, my firefly’s a heavyweight.
“I didn’t know you wrote code.” As I jog to catch up, she stops and swivels toward me.
“I don’t. Jonathan, wake up.” At the thick metal door facing Seventh Avenue, I struggle to hold her android, trying to upend itself.
It hugs me around the waist, and I roll my eyes. “I look like a man with a robot fetish.”
Her snicker is cut off by a male voice overhead. “Please look up at the cameras.”
We do as we’re asked and a second later, a solenoid clicks in the door. Landy pushes, we walk across a white marble floor, and enter a shining brass elevator. Like James Bond in an evil lair, there’s no buttons or controls. Before I can object, the gate slides shut and the cab jerks.
As my heartbeat returns to normal, we find ourselves in a small area, reminding me of a doctor’s waiting room.
“Please be seated. Dr. Jones will join you in a moment.” The same voice as before, sounds from a speaker overhead.
A few minutes later, a woman in her late thirties pads her high-tops into the room and smiles politely. “Ms. Manuel, right on time.”
