I felt him rest his head on top of mine and assumed he was smiling because I was right.
Chapter
Thirteen
SORRY, CHAIR
Our clothes having been incinerated—no doubt to eliminate identification since they never intended to let us leave—Wiley and I disembarked the ship wearing white Tyvek coveralls with attached feet and hoods. If it hadn’t been for the fact that The Coalition had cleared the dock, I was sure someone would’ve made note of the alarming collection of scientists in protective suits existing a cargo ship. As it was, the only people recording anything were our own.
As much as I wanted to be involved in making sure nothing was missed and that the forthcoming court cases would have all the evidence they needed, once we gave our statements, I took Wiley’s hand and headed for the line of waiting vehicles. I’d been advised not to leave the state, was certain I’d be a material witness at some later date, but oh, how I needed to be away from all of this. At least for a few days.
“Why are we running?” Wiley asked, looking all around with wide eyes.
I hadn’t realized we were running until then but slowed down. “I just want to go home.”
He gave me a smile and tucked himself against my side. “Like, home-home? Or back to headquarters?”
“Home-home. My home, I mean.”
“Oh, good.”
“Sir!”
Ahead of us, my driver waved and opened the back door of my Benz with the heavily tinted windows. “Thank you, Michael,” I said as we got in. The sun was up now, but he’d parked in the shadow of the ship.
“Yes, thank you, Michael,” Wiley parroted. “Who is Michael?” he whispered once we were inside with the door shut.
“My driver. He’s human. Married. Father of two.” I wasn’t sure what he wanted to know.
Wiley snorted and wiggled his butt in his seat. “Okay. And will there be more staff at the Fawkes mansion?”
“They live on the property, but it’s not a mansion. I own a small estate in the Mecklin area of Saint Jude.”
“Baby,” he said with a grin, “you might as well have said you own a chalet in Tuscany.”
“Technically, my chalet is just outside Tuscany.”
Wiley threw his head back and laughed. Was this a good reaction?
Michael got in and started the car. “Home, sir?”
“Yes, please.”
He raised the partition between us to keep the sun from me and got us moving.
I turned to Wiley. “Does my wealth upset you?”
“No,” he scoffed. “I’m just not used to it, you know? Like, I feel like I won the lottery, and you just got…me.” He frowned, and I could only imagine he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
I clicked my tongue at him. “I won the lottery, too,becauseI got you.”
His smile said he didn’t quite believe that. We’d work on changing his mind.
“So, um,” he said and slid his hand up my thigh. “How long of a drive is it?”
I stopped his hand before he could get to his destination. “Not long enough.”
He pouted, full bottom lip sticking out and big eyes begging.
