Cynthia stood on the opposite side of the desk, watching her expectantly.
“I don’t—”
“He’s eating lunch in our cafeteria now.”
Emma’s eyes widened. Her heart gave a little leap. Her pulse quickened. Excitement warred with disbelief, soon joined by nervousness.
Cliff ate lunch in their cafeteria?
Cynthia pointed at her with a knowing grin. “And that’s the reaction I was waiting for. If you were white, you’d totally be blushing right now. You have it so bad for him.”
“No I don’t,” Emma hissed. “And would you keep your damn voice down? They can hear us down there!”
Cynthia’s eyes widened. “Oh crap. I forgot. Sorry.”
“Anyway, I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about it. We work the day shift, and he’s a vampire. He probably eats lunch at midnight.”
Shaking her head, Cynthia retook her seat and lowered her voice to a whisper. “No, he doesn’t. Most days he eats lunch the same time we do.” Some of the joy left her pretty face. “Todd said Cliff has been… struggling a little since the attack. Since he had his first… you know.”
Psychotic break?
Emma nibbled her lower lip as worry blossomed. Once the smoke had cleared and Mr. Reordon had gotten everyone settled in the new network headquarters building, then briefed them on the injuries and deaths among employee ranks, the first thing Emma had wanted to know was if the vampires had survived the blitz. If Cliff had survived.
Mercenaries had already begun to infiltrate the building when Cliff had unburied her, gently tended her broken arm, and whisked her away to safety. And she’d spent much of the ensuing hours wondering if he had returned to sublevel 1 and confronted them. If he’d had help or if he’d fought them alone. If they had wounded him. Or killed him. There had been so many…
It had never occurred to her that they might capture him. She had assumed they were there to nab an immortal. So her heart had gone out to him when she’d learned those bastards had captured him and tortured him to such an extent that he’d experienced his first psychotic break. And he had lost his friend Joe, too.
“It’s okay,” Cynthia said softly, dragging her from her thoughts. “He’s doing okay.” Leaning forward, she whispered, “Todd said he’s been doing better since Mr. Reordon showed him footage of his actions the day of the mercenary attack. Apparently Cliff worried everyone was bullshitting him when they said he’d helped. He was afraid he’d hurt someone or something.”
Poor guy.
“So,” Cynthia said louder. “No more eating lunch at the picnic tables outside. You’re eating lunch in the cafeteria today.”
A little zing of excitement shot through her. Whenever weather permitted, Emma ate lunch outside at the picnic tables around back. She liked the quiet, the fresh air, the wildflowers, and enjoyed getting in a little uninterrupted reading while she ate.
She looked at the comfortable slacks and casual blouse she wore, then raised her hands and patted her hair.
Cynthia grinned. “You look fine. Beautiful as always. Let’s go.”
Nerves jangling, Emma rose and rounded her desk.
Her friend glanced down, then winced. “Well, maybe wear some sexy pumps tomorrow.”
Emma wiggled her toes inside her running shoes. “Nope. It’s this or nothing.” She’d done the whole attractive but uncomfortable savvy suit, high heels, and perfect makeup thing in the past but would do so no more. Anyone who didn’t like her the way she was could kiss her ass.
Grabbing her cell phone, she followed Cynthia out into the hallway and closed her door. She didn’t bother locking it. No one would slip in to steal her purse or disturb anything while she was gone. If anyone did, the plethora of surveillance cameras would swiftly identify the culprit. And if any doubt remained, Reordon would simply summon a telepathic Immortal Guardian to ferret out the thief.
So… yeah. No one so much as stole a pen around here.
Her heart beat a little faster as they approached the cafeteria. And she discovered she was actually holding her breath as she passed through the wide doorway. Pausing just inside, she swept the large room with an eager gaze.
Disappointment struck when she didn’t spy Cliff.
Beside her, Cynthia made a hmmm sound. “Maybe he’s running late.”
Or not. Cliff didn’t show the whole time they dined. Nor did he appear the next day or the day after that.
“Well, now I feel like crap for getting your hopes up,” Cynthia said in the privacy of the soundproof women’s restroom as she washed her hands. “Sorry.”