“Yes. I know. The outside doors are locked, but you’re still bound by our agreement that you won’t escape.”
She looks as fresh and edible as a little flower standing there in shorts and a T-shirt. Her hair is in a ponytail, and her blue eyes are bright with defiance. Or is that anticipation?
What’s unfurling in the pit of my stomach is desire. I’m looking forward to chasing her again.
She’s addictive.
“For now,” she agrees. “Though it did occur to me that if I killed you as you slept, that wouldn’t be breaking our deal of me not escaping.” She eyes the knives meaningfully.
“How about some caffeine before your violence, lapochka?” I offer, standing and going to the coffee machine. I assume her answer will be yes, given how she demolished the cup I gave her yesterday morning.
She doesn’t reply, just biting her lip uncertainly.
“Sit. There’s no hurry. I’m not doing anything until you’re fully caffeinated. That’s an unfair advantage to me, otherwise.”
She huffs with gentle laughter, and sinks into one of the pale wood chairs at the table.
The machine clunks and whirs into the silence, before going on to a hiss as it heats the milk and finally provides the milky coffee Tess likes.
“Thanks.” She flicks her wary gaze up at me, and I take my seat in front of my laptop again.
But I can’t focus on work, urgent though it is.
There’s a line of tension between us as she drinks her coffee in silence.
“You said you do stuff with computers.” She drinks the last sip and puts her cup down.
I nod, even though there’s no question in her statement.
“So, a weird thing happened yesterday.”
“Just one?”
She rolls her eyes and it’s so unafraid that happiness pulses through me.
“All my ebook library holds became available. And lots of books that used to be restricted are in a subscription service, and authors are saying they’ve got amended contracts with better terms.”
“Mmm.” I still don’t reply because, again, no question here. I’m just listening to my girl.
She hesitates. “Was it you?”
“No one will ever trace it back to me. It was a glitch.”
“If I win our game and leave, will the glitch be resolved?” she rushes on. “Because the thing is, my reader friends online are really excited about this. It’s great, and…” She goes into quite a long discussion of how ebook borrowing works and why it’s important for people with lower incomes, but how authors need to be paid too. I know this already from my research on her and her interests, but I’m happy to listen to anything she’s passionate about. “So, if I stayed here,” she finishes, “would the glitch be permanent?”
“Bugs can be very brief. Easy to fix.” I hold her gaze lazily, but my muscles are tight.
“It’s just…” Her expression is conflicted. “My friends…”
“It could be one of your favours,” I point out.
Her brow furrows.
“Freedom, protection, money.” I tick the items off on my fingers. “Those are the obvious things to ask for. Which will you give up for your book-friends? Because there isn’t enough money in the world to achieve what I did. You have to choose.”
“You’re setting up a false choice based on taking back what you’ve already given me,” she bursts out. “It’s something we learned about in my degree.”
“Give someone something and they’re reluctant to give it back, mm? Well, I’ll go one better. Here are the stakes of our chase today. If you win, you get your three favours. But if I win, as well as my three favours, I’ll ensure that this glitch is as permanent as I can make it.” I wonder if she can see my pulse hammering in my throat. Maybe this will be an easy win.
