He gave he a slow, bored blink. “And when were you ill?”
“The hurling commenced yesterday morning.”
“And it was food poisoning?”
“I think I know freezie mix when I see it.”
He nodded, as if ready to wrap up. And write a check, maybe?
“We’re going to do a forensic study of the gloves, your gaming system,” he said, “and any other paraphernal—”
“I’m not giving you my gloves or my gaming system. Then it will be your word against mine that anything happened.” Duh. People were already claiming the video was faked. The glove was all I had for proof.
“Ms. Taylor, we’ve already retrieved your gaming system, but we couldn’t locate the gloves.”
“You went to my house?”
He tilted his head. “If the glove is dangerous, you wouldn’t want it to hurt anyone else, would you?”
Fucker went to my house. My heart slammed around inside my chest like the last ice cube in the crusher. “What did you tell my mom?”
I had to call my mom. Oh my God, she was probably having a total nervous breakdown with more black suits pounding on the door.
“She wasn’t at home.”
“So you broke in?”That had to be against the law, wasn’t it? Private companies couldn’t just take my stuff, not even if it was their stuff first. “That’s against the law.”
He lowered his sunglasses. “Where are the gloves, Ms. Taylor?”
This was some sinister corporation shit right here. Breaking into people’s houses. Showing up at their work. And was he threatening me? Felt like he was threatening. Or about to…
“I’m calling the police.” I reached for the phone in my back pocket.
“You should do that,” he told me. “Of course that would end any possibility of a timely settlement of this distressing incident.”
Oh this guy could fuck all right. Fuck me over.
“I’m not answering any more questions without a lawyer present.”
He gave me that bland face again. Like I was being an idiot. I should’ve never talked to him in the first place. He broke into my house.Who does that?
“The gloves, Ms. Taylor. Where are they?”
I shook my head. Not saying another word.
“Does Mr. Price have them?”
I folded my arms. Evil BSG couldn’t do anything to me in broad daylight. In a public parking lot. With nosey teenagers looking on from the window. I was safe. Ish.
“I visited Mr. Price’s residence before coming here,” he said, lowering his voice. “I found the front door already open, the lock broken. In addition to far too many empty pizza boxes, the place appeared to have been ransacked.”
Yep. He was definitely threatening me.
“And neither I nor my people can locate Mr. Price, who is wanted in connection with another matter.”
I shrugged, biting my tongue to stop all the questions logjamming in my brain. But I was so going to email, chat, message, and in all other ways track Brayden down and ask him what the hell was going on. Because BSG here had asked a shit-ton of questions featuring him.
“Last time, Ms. Taylor,” he said. “For your safety, I need those gloves.”
