“She’s clean,” Howard said as Taf smacked his thigh and eased up to sit on the couch. “It lights up at any outgoing ping, like from a cell phone.”
“I know I’m clean. Gawwd!” Taf drawled as Howard beamed over three squares of plastic he had been working on.
“A quick tweak to the GPS on my phone, and we’ll have traceable bugs,” he added as he set it clattering on the table. “If we can get one of these on Allen, we’d know when he comes within half a mile. Or we can drop them like bread crumbs to find our way back somewhere or to each other if we get separated.”
Fingers smoothing the yarn, Peri said, “If this vet thing doesn’t work out, you could always open an Electronics Hut.”
Howard chuckled as he put his coat on. “Sure. Taf, you can make coffee, right? I could use you and your dozen almost-minors for security. You’re amazing with a rifle.”
“Thank you, Howard. You say the sweetest things!” Taf purred, bounding up to give him a little peck on the cheek.
Silas sighed, rattling his paper as Howard blushed, his dark skin taking on a pinkish hue.
“Speaking of shooting people, I need to pick up some more shells.” Taf reached for her coat. “Do we have time to stop?”
“Sure, I don’t see why not.”
“Ah … you aren’t carrying a gun tonight,” Peri started when Taf picked up her purse.
“Excuse me, boys and girls?” Silas said, paper flat against the table. Suddenly Peri felt like they were the parents of two hooligans eager for a night of chaos and gunpowder.
“We’ll bring back pizza,” Howard said as he pushed Taf to the door.
“I’m sick of pizza,” Taf complained. “I want Cantonese.”
“Fine. Whatever,” he said. “Let’s get out of here before they think of a reason for us not to go.” And then the door shut and Taf’s voice filled the stairway as they creaked downstairs.
Peri glanced at Silas, pretty sure Howard and Taf hadn’t left for circuits and shells. They hadn’t even set up an alternate meeting place in case of trouble. She wasn’t used to working with more than one person, and she was making mistakes. “I don’t like them out on their own,” she said, to fill the new silence.
“Me either.” Silas shook his paper again. He’d taken time to shave and shower in the tiny bathroom while she and Taf had been shopping, and his thick short hair was sticking straight up, an unruly, charming mess without product. Peri couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like on her fingertips. Silk, maybe.
Sensation plinked through her, and, disconcerted, she put her attention firmly on her yarn. “This isn’t going to be easy,” she muttered. “Opti is already at my apartment. I’m going to have to fight my way in, or out, or both. We should have left them in Kentucky.”
“But you don’t mind me coming,” he said flatly from behind his paper.
“Actually, I do, but I need an anchor,” she said. “I’ll keep you alive. Promise.”
“Maybe I don’t want that assurance.”
Peri squinted at the paper between them. “It comes with the job. Deal with it.” She was starting to figure this out. Someone he’d loved had died to save him. Not my business, she thought as she laid the scarf out and tried to find a pattern in the stripes, but a growing ire at Silas was percolating through her. “I need you, Silas, but you’re not a piece of firmware.”
“I know that.”
That paper was starting to tick her off. “Silas,” she said softly. “Quit with the girly ‘if you cared, you’d figure it out’ crap. Tell me what’s bothering you, or leave the baggage on the curb.”
His big hands gripped the paper, making it crackle as he lowered it.
His strong jaw was tight and his shoulders were so stiff they pulled at his shirt. His lips twitched as a thought flitted through him, and something in her fluttered, a memory, almost. “Your pattern is off,” he said.
“Silas!” she shouted, and there was a long “Oooooo” from the store below, followed by laughter.
Still holding the paper, Silas leaned across the table. “Listen to me, Peri Reed,” he said as he took a frozen cookie. “My bad mood is none of your business. Besides, your pattern is off. Why don’t you fix it? It’s not me that’s bothering you, it’s your asinine, anal need for perfection.” He snapped through the cookie and leaned back, eyes holding his anger.
“It is not,” she said, hiding her irritation behind a sip of hot chocolate. But then she looked at the yarn in her lap. “Damn it, Silas. Now it’s going to bug me forever.”
He lifted the paper back up between them. “So fix it. We’ve got time, princess.”