The Same Place (The Lamb and the Lion #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,6

my HR paperwork—and she told me how much he loves See’s caramels. I’d run over and get some, but—”

Jem threw a dispirited look at the display table with the dress shirts.

“Go,” Mr. Kroll whispered fiercely. “Hurry. And get two boxes. No, three.”

“My credit card—”

“Go.” Mr. Kroll was strangling on the word as he shoved cash into Jem’s hands and pushed him toward the door. “Mr. Snow himself,” he breathed, the Messiah coming again. “Hurry!”

Jem jogged toward the door. He waved the cash at Mckenna as he passed men’s active wear and winked.

She rolled her eyes.

4

Jem spent the afternoon dicking around. Normally, he would have used a beautiful spring afternoon to hit up some of the sheep around Temple Square; if he were lucky, he could pull in a few hundred bucks before he needed to clear out. But ever since realizing that Teancum Leon thought he was a scumbag, he had tried to reform. A little.

Instead, he walked through City Creek Mall, the billion-dollar development in the heart of Salt Lake, watching shoppers: a young woman with four kids and a stack of shoeboxes, obviously trying to outfit the whole herd in one go; a middle-aged man examining expensive watches and, in between rounds, bitching out the poor salesman who was trying to help him; a teenage couple on what might, possibly, could have been their first date, the boy’s chest puffed up, his face practically glowing as he clutched the girl’s hand. She was going to need a hacksaw when she wanted it back.

At five-fifteen, he walked back to Snow’s, carrying two boxes of See’s chocolates in a plastic bag, and waited in the parking lot. Spring in Utah was beautiful and ephemeral—it came late, and summer was already hammering on the door. But today, the weather was mild, the sky was clear, and the cherries were just reaching the end of their blossoms. Jem thought they still had a little of their fragrance.

When Tean picked him up, the doc was in a foul mood. His dark, brushed-back hair showed signs of stress—he’d obviously been running his hands through it like crazy—and his big, ugly black glasses were even more crooked than usual. The doc was wiry but stronger than he looked; right then, he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white.

“For the fourth time,” he snapped as they waited at the traffic light to get out of the Snow’s parking lot, “I do not want a chocolate wingding or whatever they’re called.”

Jem nodded, popped the offending chocolate in his mouth, and said, “Thanks again for doing this.”

“And don’t talk with food in your mouth.”

“Oh. Right.” Jem had to slurp up some chocolatey drool before continuing, “Thanks. See, this is why we’re best friends.”

“We’re not best friends.” Tean hit the gas a little too hard, and the white Ford lurched forward. He had to brake to keep from hitting the Volvo in front of them. “We’re friends.”

“Really good friends.”

“A normal level of friends.”

“But with a special past.”

“With a past where you lied to me and took advantage of my good nature just so you could drag me into a murder and conspiracy that almost got me killed.”

“I know you keep saying that we’re just friends, but when you say stuff like that, it sounds awfully romantic.” Jem grinned at him. “I think we might secretly be really good friends and you just aren’t willing to admit it. This is an epic bromance. You’re going to see.”

Without looking over, Tean said, “You have nougat in your teeth.”

Jem was still laughing—and checking his teeth in the visor’s mirror—when his phone buzzed. He answered.

“Mr. Berger?” Mr. Kroll’s voice sounded snappier on the phone’s speaker.

“Hi, Mr. Kroll. Sorry I didn’t make it back before the end of my shift; a bunch of conventioneers were at See’s, and the line took forever. The convention sounded really interesting, though. CHL. Clean Herbal Living. Have you already been? I thought of you.”

Tean’s eyes were huge as he eavesdropped, and he had to shove his glasses back up to keep them from falling off his face.

“That’s very interesting,” Mr. Kroll said. “I was wondering who your source was.”

“Oh, I can’t tell you that.”

“Because there was no surprise inspection.”

“Huh.” Jem gave it just enough of a pause. “Well, like I said, it was only a sixty-percent chance.”

“I talked to my own source,” Mr. Kroll said. “Apparently there was zero chance of a surprise inspection happening today.”

“Weird.” Jem was fishing another chocolate—this one with