Conflict of Interest - By Allyson Lindt Page 0,24

answer. “Yes. Because you were sincere, and the guy in the bookstore was sincere—both of you inflammatory—but still sincere, and those assholes with the lines were just saying what they thought I wanted to hear.”

“I’ve made my point?” He didn’t look smug.

“Yes.” She took another drink. “But I’m still going to teach you to behave in public. You’re not learning to pick up women. You’re learning to keep your investors happy.”

He leaned in, voice low. “I already know the legs go all the way because how awkward would that be if they didn’t?” An underlying current ran through his words. “But if I told you that you had a beautiful body, would you forget this mission of yours?”

“You mean my job?” The way he’d twisted the otherwise horrid line added to her enjoyment, and the underlying compliment warmed her more than the wine had. “No. But don’t let that stop you from trying.”

“You’ve really read William Gibson.” He switched gears without pause.

“I prefer Philip K. Dick, but Neuromancer has a special place on my bookshelf. I was in a really weird frame of mind the first time I read it, it kind of screwed with my head, and I haven’t been able to forget it since.”

The rough canvas of a High Top traced up the back of her calf, sending a pleasant chill through her. His expression softened, eyes pulling up at the corners. “I know the feeling.”

Chapter 7

A folded blanket stared back at Scott in his rearview mirror. It would probably be there for a while—he like the memories associated with it. He glanced at Kenzie out of the corner of his eye. Had she noticed? Only the obvious really seemed to escape her, so probably not.

He’d frozen inside when she’d brought up his past and was glad she’d let him change the subject so quickly. It wasn’t like he’d come from a battered home, not in the traditional sense. He’d had it all growing up—money, the best education available, and almost two decades of the finest food, clothes, and friends money could buy.

He glanced at Kenzie as the unpleasant memories tripped through his thoughts. The corners of her mouth were pulled up in an almost smile. She wouldn’t tell him where they were going, only that Hot Topic wasn’t an appropriate place for someone like him to shop. He wasn’t sure what made him different from anyone who worked for him, but he hadn’t bothered to tell her the only thing he owned from Hot Topic was a pair of panda mittens someone had given him as a gag gift a few years ago. Maybe he’d dig those up tomorrow just for kicks.

But that was the thing about his childhood. His father was first-generation money—having started as a mechanic to support his mother when he’d gotten her pregnant right before high school graduation. But Dad was bright and had managed to spin the opportunity quickly, growing his name and reputation into the face of one of the largest car dealership chains in the western states.

He’d wanted Scott to have everything he hadn’t. Including connections, the knowledge to be able to perform on demand, and the ability to mold himself to what the “right” people expected of him.

And Scott might not have resented it if that upbringing hadn’t included countless hours of being told playing video games would never get him anywhere in life, and that the only way to be someone important was to wear the mask the people with the money expected to see.

“Park here.” Kenzie’s request jarred him back to the present. She was pointing to a row of spots in front of Nordstrom.

“Yes ma’am.” He did as he was told, keeping a teasing lilt to his response.

He followed her into the store, past racks of designer labels and women who reminded him of his mother—straight posture, well-coifed silver hair, and gold and diamonds sparkling from their wrists and fingers—to the men’s department.

Plastic torsos in button-down shirts and silk ties stared down at them from high shelves on the walls. Scott would have told her this wasn’t where he really wanted to be, but she would have misunderstood. Assumed he was being difficult and not just picky.

Displays dotted the area, but no actual racks, and a counter sat in the middle of it all, a familiar young man scanning the shop, doing a decent job of hiding his boredom.

A smile lit his hazel eyes when Scott and Kenzie approached, and he stepped away from his watch