“Mom’s gone.” A muscle worked in his newly shaved jaw. “But dear ol’ Dad is still kickin’. Leastways he was the last time I checked. Which, to be honest, was probably about ten years ago now.”
She desperately wanted to ask what his father was in prison for. But something told her he wouldn’t be open to questions on the subject.
“If you’re trying to make me see things could be far worse between me and my dad, point proved.” She attempted a smile, but it fell flat.
Thankfully, he took pity on her and her pathetic attempt to lighten the mood by giving her a wink. “Nah. Your dad is a dick, if ya don’t mind me sayin’. And I can’t imagine what it was like growin’ up with him.”
“I didn’t.” She shook her head. “After Mom died, he shipped me off to boarding school.”
“Like I was sayin’, it’s his loss if he doesn’t want to be part of your life. You’re amazin’.”
As wonderful as it was to hear him say that, she was careful to temper her joy. “You thinkallwomen are amazing, Fish.”
“True.” He shrugged. “I mean, have ya seen y’all? All soft and curvy. But you’re the cream of the crop. The cherry on top.”
“Well, thank you.” She slanted him a look. “But don’t think all this kumbaya you and I have been sharing tonight means I’m going to stop calling you on your bullshit or letting you off easy when you’re being a lecherous cad.”
He chuckled and used a knuckle to tap her chin. The skin tingled at his touch. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Don’t know what I’d do if I had to go a whole day without ya takin’ a strip out of my hide. Now.” He placed his hand on his bedroom door. “I need to finish gettin’ ready. Meet ya downstairs in half an hour?”
She nodded, her heart so full of love for him it was a wonder the stupid organ didn’t explode out of her chest. “Half an hour.” When he went to push the door open, she stopped him with, “Hey Fish? Thank you.”
His smile was so genuine, so sweet and warm, she wanted to die. “That’s what friends are for, Liza. They got your back when ya feel like things are goin’ pear-shaped.”
His casual mention of their friendship had her gritting her teeth to keep from breaking down crying again.
As much as she liked the change in their relationship, she couldn’t deny it made things more difficult for her. Now she couldn’t hide her feelings behind derision and disgust. Now the only thing she had to hide them behind was a mask of practiced nonchalance.
Problem is, I’ve never had a poker face.
23
Southpark Hotel, Austin, Texas
Vinny was one of those rare animals who didn’t need much sleep. Three, four hours a night was about all he required. Which meant, when his phone rang at 5am, he’d already been awake for over an hour and was on his second cup of the dirty swill the hotel calledcoffee.
He could notwaitto get back to NYC for a cup of java from his favorite roaster. There was a little café right off Queens Boulevard that brewed beans fresh out of Columbia.
He could almost taste that rich, nutty flavor on his tongue.
“Yo. Tell me it’s go-time,” he said into the phone in lieu ofhello.
“You will plant the malware on your next shift,” came Yang’s immediate reply.
A surge of adrenaline fired through Vinny’s blood, joining the caffeine already circulating there.
“Great.” He nodded even though Yang couldn’t see him. “And then what? What’re the next steps?”
“For you? Go to the airport and fly home.” A note of impatience had crept into Yang’s voice. “Once we have proven to ERCOT there is a weakness in their system, your work in Texas is done.”
“Right.” Vinny nodded again. “But I mean, what about the money? How am I getting paid?”
He realized he probably should’ve asked that question a long time ago. But, honestly, he’d just assumed Uncle Sam would cut him a check.
“Once you are back home, you will open an account in the Cayman Islands. I will contact you for the account number. Bishop will deposit the money that is owed to you there.”
Sitting back in the desk chair, Vinny’s eyes tracked to the window and the intermittent headlights whizzing past on the highway outside. Traffic was light that early in the morning. Yet another reminder why he was itching to get back home.
For a guy who rarely slept, The City That Never Sleeps was perfect. Texas on the other hand? Felt like sleeping was all people did. They talked slow and walked slow and sometimes seemed tothinkslow.
