I shake my head, at a loss. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. She says if she gives in and quits the battle, she’d never trust me? But it works the same way on my end, doesn’t it? If I tuck my dick and balls between my legs and give her what she wants, if I act like a pussy-whipped little puss who can be manipulated into doing puppy tricks for her, where the fuck could we possibly go from there? We’d be doomed.
“I’m not gonna give it to you,” I say evenly. “If you wanna get with me, then get with me. If you don’t, then don’t. That application shouldn’t have anything to do with it, either way.”
Her eyes are unreadable to me. She sighs. “I think maybe we should just concentrate on saving the world for a bit, okay? Things have gotten out of control. That’s my fault, not yours. I’m sorry about that.” Her eyes suddenly flood with tears. “I think we should just take a break on battling to the death for a while—concentrate on saving the world.”
“Kat. Wait. Let me come in. Not to fuck you. Just to be with you. Just to sleep next to you.”
“Josh, we’re obviously two suicide bombers on opposing missions—both of us stubborn as hell. We’re not a good combination.” She opens her door. “Thanks for walking me to my room. I appreciate it.” She slips inside her room, and her voice travels through the gap in the door, just before it closes. “I’m sorry, Josh. Good night.”
Twenty-Six
Kat
“Well, to summarize,” Henn begins, “we’re dealing with some big shit here, fellas. Like, oh my fucking God.” He cracks a huge smile. “Totally awesome.”
We’re all gathered around the table in the early afternoon light of Jonas and Sarah’s suite to hear the latest on what Henn’s uncovered about The Club—much of it, apparently, after Josh and I left the suite last night around 3:00 a.m.
Josh slipped into our meeting after me, looking groggy and bleary-eyed, and took a seat at the table next to me, nodding curtly as he sat down, his face tight and his eyes unreadable.
“Just tell me—were you able to get into The Club’s system?” Jonas asks Henn.
“No, not yet. Wherever it is, it’s buried deep, deep, deep in the web, way deep. But I’m getting close. I’ve got lots of breadcrumbs to follow. I’m hot on their trail, fellas. And very pretty ladies.” He smiles at me and winks at Sarah.
“You should have seen how Henn figures things out,” I say, pointedly not looking at Josh to my left. “He’s a techno-Sherlock Holmes.”
“The man’s a fucking genius,” Josh adds. He puts his right arm across the back of my chair as he speaks, but I lean forward in my chair to avoid letting his arm cradle my back. Just one touch and I’ll melt. And I don’t feel like melting right now.
Josh exhales with frustration, but I don’t look at him.
“What do we know so far?” Jonas asks.
Henn launches into telling Jonas and Sarah what he (and Josh and I) discovered last night: namely, that The Club’s operations are way bigger than any of us expected.
“What about a member list? Any luck on that?” Sarah asks.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text and I take a quick peek. Shoot. It’s from my boss. This isn’t gonna be good. I’ve been putting her off for days.
I open the message:
“Kat!” my boss writes. “Wow, wow, wow! Just got the signed contract and full retainer from this new client of yours! Holy crap! Biggest up-front retainer we’ve ever landed, by far. I know you’re in meetings all day on your new account (!), but call me ASAP. I want to hear all the details. If you need me to fly to Las Vegas to help you withanythingjust say the word. Fantastic work! Of course, take as long as you need out there. Just check in occasionally to give me an update so we can manage our workload internally. Keep up the great work! We’ll drink champagne when you get back!”
I keep reading and re-reading the email, not comprehending what my eyes are seeing and feeling like I’ve slipped into some sort of gap in the space-time continuum. Did I take acid and not remember? Have I been roofied? What thehellis she talking about?
I look at Josh, but he’s listening intently to whatever Henn’s saying.
“The identity of that über VIP guy seems like something we’d better nail down,” Henn is saying. “His emails are double encrypted, but I cracked an email from Oksana to Max forwarding one of the über VIP guy’s emails—and the guy said shit like ‘my security personnel will post outside the door.’ He’s got security personnel? And they ‘post’ outside doors? Like, who the fuck says that?”
“A rock star?” Sarah suggests. “Guys like that always have bodyguards.”
“No,” Henn says. “Not based on what I’ve seen.”
“Yeah, I know plenty of rock stars with bodyguards—and they don’t talk like that,” Josh says.
“I’ll keep working on it,” Henn says. “Okay, so are you guys ready for your minds to be officially blown?”
“You mean there’smore?” Sarah asks.
“Oh yeah. The next part is what makes this so much fun.” Henn looks at me. “I figured this next part out right after you left last night.”
