Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Champ’s chin dipped. “I understand. But it’s not an issue of money. It’s an issue of legality, not to mention moral obligation. I cannot condone the obfuscation of information that would potentially enable the DEA to take down a drug cartel. We need to turn this list of names over to the government.”
Jacob sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Whatever product he used was damned good at its job because his salt-and-pepper combover landed perfectly in place again. “Then I really need to insist that you give me some time to prepare. I need to put together a response team, consult my attorneys, and determine how to prevent a disastrous devaluation effect.”
Champ nodded thoughtfully, like we hadn’t already anticipated this. “Understood. But I’m afraid we can’t give you long.”
The two executives he’d brought into the meeting shared expressions of concern. I understood their worries, but I also knew Champ was right. We could no longer justify holding on to this information without any compelling reason other than “our client’s company will look bad, so we’ll look bad too.”
I shifted in my chair when the executives began discussing strategies to manage key stakeholders. Corporate-speak wasn’t something I was comfortable with. I was a Marine who was the son of a Marine, which meant I was way more familiar with discussions of deployments than depleted market share.
Champ glanced over at me and must’ve seen that I was both bored and on edge—a dangerous combination. He barely restrained an eye roll. “While we discuss timelines, why don’t you take this opportunity to gather the user data you mentioned from the technical team, Huxley?”
I shot out of my seat like a rocket and was halfway down the hall before taking a breath of relief, but that relief was short-lived. My Horn yodeled with an incoming message just as I reached the elevator.
Shit. I thought I’d set the thing to Silence Mode days ago.
I gave an embarrassed smile to an older gentleman, who gave me a disapproving look, and quickly pulled my Horn out of my pocket to check my notifications. If fucking Kev had re-retaliated for my kelp-forest-burning retaliation, I was going to re-re-retaliate so hard that legends would be told about the force of my…
Oh.
When I saw the message on the screen, I realized my error. When I’d left that morning, I’d accidentally grabbed my new blue Horn—SmittyKitty’s Horn—instead of my usual green one. And while the message was from Kev, it wasn’t retaliatory at all.
HogDocKev: Yo, Smitty, I have kind of an odd question. Do you ride motorcycles?
HogDocKev: You mentioned something the other day when we were messaging about air speeders. The reason I ask is because if you do, I can send you some Harley-Davidson safety gear IRL.
HogDocKev: I just got a box of airbag jackets in a bunch of different sizes. Happy to send one if you’d like.
I stared at the message, remembering the box emblazoned with the Harley-Davidson logo that Riggs had carried down to Kev’s basement lair yesterday. I’d assumed it had been motorcycle parts since I’d recently learned Kev owned three motorcycles, but clearly, I’d been wrong.
I sighed and felt a little of the tightness ease from my shoulders.
Just when I thought I had the guy figured out and could write him off entirely—sexy punishment blow job fantasy notwithstanding—Kev went and showed that he didn’t quite fit the “spoiled rich attention-seeker” pigeonhole I kept trying to cram him in.
He was sweet and generous sometimes. Maybe even most of the time. Maybe to everyone but me.
I typed a response.
SmittyKitty: Why’d you order more than one?
HogDocKev: I didn’t order them. They just keep sending them.
SmittyKitty: Because they like you???
HogDocKev: Ha. No. I wrote a piece of code that they use in the sensor software for the airbag deployment so I guess I’m technically on the development team. *shrug*
I stared at the Horn screen and reread his message several times before trying to type a response.
SmittyKitty: You…
I deleted that and reread his message again.
SmittyKitty: You helped write the code for airbag deployment sensors in safety jackets?
HogDocKev: Yeah.
HogDocKev: I mean, no.
HogDocKev: I mean, I didn’t develop it specifically FOR that purpose…but yes, I own the patent for it.
My curiosity was so intense I ended up on the basement level of the HOG building before realizing I’d missed my floor. I pressed the button for the second floor and typed again.
SmittyKitty: What purpose did you develop it for, Pip?
While waiting for a response, my brain started snapping puzzle pieces together. Someone—maybe Riggs—had mentioned once that Kev was independently wealthy, but I hadn’t believed them. He’d been raised by his obscenely wealthy grandfather, who was a fixture in Nashville high society. I’d just assumed Kev had a giant allowance from his granddaddy that enabled him to buy his NASA-level tech and live a life of couch-potato idleness.