“Night, lass.” His voice is husky.
“Good night, Axe.”
Axe takes a step back, his gaze lingering on me like he can read my thoughts—how could my face not be a full confession that all I’m thinking ismore, more, more? Does he know how wet he made me with that kiss? Eventually, he turns and walks back to his bike. I watch as he revs the engine and then takes off, disappearing down the block.
My fingertips touch my mouth. It feels scorched and tingling where his lips have consumed mine.
I let myself into my apartment, step inside, then lean against the back of the door. I’m liquid, the heat off my skin could melt a box of Popsicles.
Whatever that was—real or sim—it was the best damn kiss of my life.
Twenty-One
Axe
Rescuing von Graf has left me with a problem and a prize that are actually the same thing: The unwrinkled wanker thinks we’re best friends. On one hand, I couldn’t believe my luck in terms of how easily he agreed to come on board as a primary investor for She’s the One. On the other hand, I’d rather drink a haddock smoothie every day than spend one dram of my free time with his rank crypto-clown ass.
“ ‘Do you have the courage to bring forth the treasures that are hidden within you?’ ” Strike shouts the quote at me first thing when he steps off the dock and onto theLoch Legend, my hand-crafted, mahogany-built Spirit yacht, which is this month’s meeting place for our book club discussion. We’re breaking downBig Magic—a book I’d never heard of, but it’s another cracking good read. I’ve enjoyed the author’s argument: that your imagination is like fairies floating about, waiting for you to catch ’em (and that even if those ideas are a bit whimsical, they’re still worth a chase).
“Aye! I’ve got thoughts. The book was convincing,” I answer. We know better than to talk for real here. I loosen the boat from her moorings and turn her away from the dock. The sun is settingover Lake Erie as I open the throttle and we head out onto the water. I bought this antique beauty after I saw her featured inCasino Royale, when Daniel Craig as James Bond drove her along the Grand Canal in Venice.
At the time, the boat belonged to an Italian aristocrat who didn’t want to part with it—but everyone has their price.
Is it possible to fall in love with a boat? Because if you can, I’m head over heels with this beauty. It’s not just a vehicle, it’s a piece of art on water. Six thousand pounds of varnished wood with an iconic wraparound windshield, and it can hit up to fifty knots when I get her going.
Strike sits back in the plush seat, his arms stretched over the decking and one hand casually gripping the guardrail. He’s been out with me before. Nobody can get a signal when we’re on the water. We’ll be discussing more than books, and this conversation is confidential. It’s better that our words get lost in the wind.
I rev the engine, the bow lifts, and the boat surges forward with the speed of a panther, skimming the surface of the water. Strike remains impassive, even as I urge the throttle forward just for shits, testing the power of the 45 horsepower engine. TheLoch Legendresponds with a deep growl, and now we’re going breakneck, the wind and water stinging our faces as the churning wake leaves a froth of foam. Strike doesn’t so much as blink, the fucker, even as my fingers tighten around the teak-rimmed steering wheel, one last push all the way to fifty knots of dead pure reckless exhilaration.
As the air whips around us, I think about the feeling of Josie’s arms around me as we raced down the mountain on my bike. How I was more careful on that ride than usual—never would I put Josie in danger—though, for reasons I can’t quite explain, thedrive felt more perilous. It was risky letting myself get so close. Risky sharing that freedom with someone else. Risky letting that someone else be Josie.
And that insanely delicious kiss? Foolish recklessness.
As soon as I cut the boat’s engine, we judder to a stop with enough force to send a wave crashing over the bow, spraying us in a blast of water and nearly sending us both overboard as we hold on for dear life.
For a moment, silence.
Then we both detonate with laughter. Strike leans forward and opens the cooler. “ ‘Your fear…’ ”
“ ‘Is the most boring thing about you,’ ” I finish.
“I think that was my favorite quote in Gilbert’s book. Fucking genius.”
“Brilliant,” I agree. “Though, let’s be honest. We both could probably use a touch more fear.”
“Fear’s overrated, as you know,” Strike says, reaching for the large silver cocktail shaker. “Keeps people small.” He pours himself a martini into a frosted V-shaped glass, the only drink I allow on 007’s boat. Shaken, not stirred. Some classics are classics for a reason. He finishes it in one gulp, then sets it aside. “Speaking of the truly fearless, talk to me about everyone’s favorite cyborg ghoul, von Graf.”
“Von Graf is all in. But there’s a catch.” I give Strike the bullet points about this morning’s meeting. “He’s agreed to become one of our angel investors, but he thinks he’s got a seat on the board when we take the company public. As you know, this arrangement now allows me to gain access to his company and investigate his financial practices.”
“Nice.”
“It would take the CIA and FBI years to get this sort of access.I can do it in weeks. I just need to uncover and dismantle his potential trafficking empire as quickly as possible—if that is, in fact, what I find.” Bile cuts my throat when I remember the randy expression on von Graf’s ball sack–smooth face when he clapped eyes on AI Josie/Gemini.
“So what’s the catch?”
“He wants to be the first to beta test She’s the One.”
“Ah.” Strike knows damn well why I don’t like this glitch. I don’t want von Graf’s wee bleached hands anywhere near Josie. Even if it’s a virtual version of her, even if—through anonymized data and layers of encryption—it’s fully removed from her actual, real-life identity. I realize this is irrational, seeing as the whole point is to introduce her as an AI companion to the world at large.
