Loverboy (The Company #2) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,72
her hands on her hips. “The one I reported earlier this month. Did you guys even look into it?”
They exchange glances. “Tell you what—we’ll look into that tonight. We’ll come back in a day or two, and maybe you could help us out after you sleep on it. I’ll leave my card.”
“Thank you,” she says stiffly. And they’re gone a moment later. “Jerry!” Posy calls. “You can flip the sign.”
Jerry comes trundling into the cafe to do his favorite job. And—on a hunch—I go the opposite direction, into the kitchen, where Jerry’s iPad is sticking out of his backpack near the door. I grab the tablet, and it’s unlocked. He must have been on it only a moment ago. I hurry to see what apps he used today.
And I learn nothing. Jerry likes WebToons and the Marvel website. He got a couple messages from his mother. That’s it.
Fuck.
I slip the iPad back into his backpack just before he reenters the room. “I’m goin’ home,” he says to me, grabbing his stuff, and opening the back door. “See you tomorrow Gunnar.”
“Have a nice evening, kid.” I lock the door behind him, and then I walk back into the cafe to find Posy leaning on the counter, looking troubled. “You okay?”
“No, not really.” She straightens up. “I hate this. I hate having cameras in my place. And now the cops want to do the same thing?” She throws her arms out to the side. “This is crazy. I could say no to all of you. I could turn off the WiFi, right? This could all be someone else’s problem.”
“Well, sure,” I say carefully. “But then he’ll just use someone else’s.”
“I don’t even know this is real, Gunn,” she says. “I’ve taken your word for the whole thing. I feel like an extra in a Hollywood thriller. I don’t know the whole story, I haven’t seen the script. I’m just supposed to go where you tell me without asking questions.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’d be frustrated, too.”
My phone buzzes again in my pocket. I pull it out. Max is calling, and there’s a text from him on the screen. Let me speak to her.
Oh man. I answer the phone and hold it toward Posy. “Max.”
“He’s watching us argue?” she asks. “That’s fucking creepy.”
“The cops got his attention,” I say. “And you know this is real, because suddenly there’s a whole lot of people interested in your internet connection.”
“Why ME?” Posy shrieks. Then she takes the phone from my hand. “Why me?” she repeats to Max. “Can’t someone else be the hero today? I’m tired.”
They talk for a couple of minutes. Max is a charming fucker when he wants to be, especially to women. The younger agents call him ladykiller behind his back.
Eventually, Posy hands back my phone. “This is madness,” she says grumpily.
“I agree. What did you and Max decide?”
“He promised he’d hand over the information he gets to the cops. He said that he was ahead of them already, and that it wouldn’t help to let them come in here and hang more cameras if there was a chance they’d find yours.”
“All right,” I say carefully. I know we’re asking a lot. “There aren’t many people who are as sharp as Max.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You’re only saying that because he can see you right now. Does he read lips?”
I throw my head back and laugh. “I’d say it anyway. Now come on. Let’s make your bank deposit. I’m walking with you this time.”
“Why?” She stalks over to the cash register and opens the drawer.
“Because we can’t afford any more bad luck, okay? Just humor me.”
“Fine.” She counts out a stack of twenties. “Just as soon as my pie is out of the oven.”
“If you want to know the truth, this whole thing is just a ruse so I can get a piece of chocolate pecan later.”
“Congratulations, then. I guess it worked.” She gives me a glare and returns to counting the drawer.
23
Posy
Gunnar Scott is sleeping on my sofa.
Or at least he will be, if Ginny ever leaves my room.
We all had a very pleasant dinner together. Aaron and Gunnar made equivalent noises of delight over the pie. “Some kids don’t like nuts in their food,” Aaron had said. “But I think that’s silly.”
“You’re a hundred percent right,” Gunnar had said. “I don’t know what people have against nuts.”
“Were you a picky eater as a child, Gunnar?” Ginny had asked, a sneaky smile on her face.