Loverboy (The Company #2) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,33

looking for a flaw in the algorithm, but I’m getting frustrated.”

“Must be intentional,” I muse. “The Plumber could really be more than one person. If three different people posted those messages, you could never find this perp.”

“Or maybe it’s one guy, and he’s smart, and leaves his phone at home. Whoever is leading me around by the nose is doing a pretty good job of it.”

“Come on, buddy,” I urge my old friend. “Figure it out. I’m getting fat from eating pie every day.”

Scout leans forward in her chair. “How’s the product, anyway?”

“It’s so good,” I moan. “I already did the math on this—I’ll have to run an extra seven miles a week just to burn off half the calories.”

My friends all laugh.

“Every assignment has its own special risks,” Max says.

“You're telling me. She makes this gingered mango cream pie that tastes like it ought to be illegal.”

Pieter shakes his head. “I’m wearing a bulletproof vest to work this week. And your biggest fear is getting too fat for your jeans? How much of your paycheck are you spending on pie, anyway?”

“Plenty of it.”

“And you call yourself a man of self-control,” Scout teases.

“You try walking a mile in my shoes. The pie maker is a hottie who makes me drool, too. But she’s immune to my charms. And I still have to call her boss and do everything she says.”

My friends howl.

“And then I have to look at those pastries all day. And it smells like heaven in there. At least I’m earning tips.”

“Where do they put the tips?” Pieter asks. “In your G-string?”

“In a jar, asshole, because this is a classy operation. And—hey—when our clients bail on us because Max has devoted all our man hours to tracking a murderer, at least I can earn a living as a barista.”

“Now that you mention it,” Max says, sipping his beer. “I think I’m entitled to a cut of your tip jar. After all, I’m responsible for your coffee career taking off.”

“Nah. It's not the coffee they’re tipping on. It's the charm, baby. And I didn’t get that from you.”

“I don’t know,” Scout says with a teasing glint in her eye. “If you’re so charming, how does the lady boss resist you?”

“He’s wondered that for fifteen years,” Max says. “He had a whole summer to charm her into his bed, and he couldn’t do it.”

“Oh, buddy,” Pieter says, laughing. “Crash and burn. She’s a pretty one, too. Maybe I’ll ask her out.”

“You will not!” I grunt, and everyone grins at my reaction. “Don’t underestimate me. She wants me. It’s on.”

Pieter laughs, like he thinks I’m joking. But I’m not. Posy used to watch me to make sure I didn’t screw up. But now she watches me for fun. I swear sometimes her eyes are stapled to my backside.

“Gunn.” Max’s forehead furrows. “Can't you wait to seduce her until after this is over?”

“I suppose. Although Posy and I are like a steam valve with too much pressure on it. Someone's got to hit the release valve soon, or I may explode. Besides—when I quit this job, she'll be pissed at me.”

“Because you're no longer in her bed?” Scout guesses. “The ego on you!”

“Well, sure. All the ladies miss me when I’m gone. But she'll be trying to replace me behind the counter. And I’m getting the feeling it’s harder to replace a barista than a lover.”

My friends burst out laughing again, and even Max snorts into his scotch glass. “Just don't get yourself fired until we find our man.”

“I can’t be fired. It’s a tight labor market for people who can draw animals in foam.”

My friends are wiping their eyes now.

“Nevertheless,” Max says, changing the topic. “I’ll need most of you for a quick job sometime in the next ten days.”

“Oh yeah?” I perk right up at the sound of that. It’s been a while since Max and I ran a mission together. “What are we getting up to?”

“Remember when I told you that Xian Smith was in town for a nice long time?”

“Of course. He’s still around, right?” This whole crazy pie shop mission is tied up in Smith’s potential guilt. If Max says he’s lost track of Xian Smith, I’m going to seriously question my life choices.

“Well, he left town for a few days. But now he’s back.”

“Where'd he go?”

Max shakes his head. “He’s not hackable, and our guys lost him at the security checkpoint at JFK. So it could have been anywhere. But now I have a device in