“Ye look chuffed, ye do. Like ye have a braw Tinder date about to show up.”
“Please,” she waves her hand dismissively, “there’s nothing sexier than making a complex system give up all its secrets. A guy will strip down if you so much as sneeze in his direction. But with a complex encryption code, laying it all out there? Give me a glass of wine and a sneaky file like this and I’ve got myself one hell of a night.”
She slams the laptop shut. “I’ve got the files and I deleted them off your phone. I also cleaned up your Amazon account and reset your password for your banking information. Don’t you know you’re supposed to do that every two weeks so our spyware is optimized on your phone?”
“Get your sneaky wee paws out of my information, ye Jezebel!” I pocket my phone, glaring at her. “I heard ye signed Logan up for FetLife with a premium account once when ye were mad at him. Ye dinnae load anything onto mine, did ye?”
“It’s like you don’t trust me, Wallace.” She makes a boo-hoo face. “I’m hurt. I thought we were friends.”
“Aye, we’re friends,” I growl, getting out of the SUV. “Because without ye, the entire MacTavish empire comes crashing down.”
“Thank you for noticing that,” she smiles modestly. I’m about to shut the door when she says, “Wallace?”
“Aye?”
“You might be getting monthly sparkle porn packages from the Purple Penis Club. I’m not sure if I deactivated the app.”
I lean against the door, keeping it open. “Ye know, we were all wondering why Logan would be giving ye his Maserati Grancabrio. He loved that car. All the cousins tried to get it out of him, he’d never say why.”
“It’s our little secret,” she says demurely.
“Hmm… ye must be feeling pure dead brilliant, driving that thing around.”
Her smirk is slipping a bit. “Yeah?”
“Do ye know what temperature turns steel to liquid?” I muse, rubbing my chin. “Likely around 1,370 Celsius for a steel frame for a sports car. Lightweight. The carbon fiber monocoque body would disintegrate in less than thirty seconds, leaving the steel frame to liquify in another, oh, sixty-five seconds or so.” I’m smiling at her pleasantly, like we’re discussing the weather orour favorite coffeehouse. “Am I signed up to receive sparkle porn packages from the… what was it? The Purple Penis Club?”
She scowls; the woman hates to lose. “Not anymore. Geez, some people can’t take a joke.”
Scarlett jumps a bit when I open the driver’s side door, sliding in. “Was that like a mission debriefing or something?”
“Or something,” I say, giving her a quick smile. “Let’s go home.”
Murder Mittens crawls up on her shoulder, wrapping around her like a wee fur stole, like the ones old ladies used to wear. Do the old ladies wear those anymore? Her gold-green eyes stare at me, glowing in the dark.
“Where’s home for you?” Scarlett asks.
“In the Tweed Valley Forest, about an hour outside of Edinburgh. Most of the cousins live in close proximity in a posh as feck neighborhood in the city or in Glasgow. I like my privacy.”
“That’s not because you need a place where no one hears screaming, right?” she blurts out. “Like, you don’t make unboxing videos about feet and teeth?”
“Why dinnae ye just ask if I tan human hides and make skin suits?” I ask dryly, but she dinnae laugh. “Lass, I know we haven’t known each other for long-”
“And you did burn my family’s business down to ash,” she adds helpfully.
“But I’m no monster.”
Well, I’m notthatkind of monster.
“I dinnae intend to hurt ye,” I say. “I brought ye here to keep ye safe.” The sun’s coming up and I can see the lines of exhaustion on her face. “Close your eyes, aye? Try to get some sleep. I know ye dinnae get a wink of it on the flight.”
“It’s so weird to hear you turn all Scottish,” she murmurs, eyes already closing. “The dinnaes, and the fecks…”
She’s beautiful, this Scarlett I’m now responsible for, her lashes are a thick fan across her cheekbones, her pink lips parted slightly as she falls asleep.
I’ll keep her safe. I’ll kill for her, if I have to. Even if I canna explain why.
Braw - Scottish slang, used in this case to indicate a hot date.
