Wick keeps her eyes trained straight ahead. “What did you tell him?”
“I didn’t tell him anything.” I lean back into the chaise cushions, tugging Wick into me. Honestly? I didn’t think she’d follow, but she does. She presses against my chest and I can feel her body heat . . . everywhere.
I turn my attention to Carson, which should be as good as a cold shower, but somehow only makes me want to hold Wick closer. “You’ve got to believe me. I didn’t tell him anything. Everything I know about you, Wicked, is useless to him.”
She snorts. “Oh yeah? How so?”
I should never have opened my mouth and I should lie to cover this up, but I can’t. “I know your laugh sounds rough, rusted. I know you look hungry even after you’ve eaten. I know you get pitched into Dumpsters. Everything else is just details.” I dare to look at her. “Should I go on?”
“The only thing I’m hungry for is coffee.” Again with the cocky, but this time she’s grinning.
Until suddenly she’s not.
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it, Griff. You know more than enough about the scam and Joe and me to interest Carson. How do I know you didn’t tell him?”
“Because you’re still here.” I curve my hands into her hair. The strands look blood-black in the shadows. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”
She’s strung so tight she’s vibrating. We’re staring at each other again and, this time, I can tell she’s struggling to believe me.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
“Fine.” She wrenches herself away from me, sitting up, and then standing. “I’m fine.”
I study the line of her shoulders . . . her arms . . . her hands. They’re shaking. “Why do you do it?” I ask.
“Hacking is what I’m good at.”
“You’re good at math. I don’t see you doing people’s homework for pay.”
“Probably because it doesn’t pay enough.” She stops, catches herself. “Sorry, it’s . . . Why don’t you do something else?”
“You have better options than I do.” She doesn’t answer and the silence between us stretches until I can’t stand it. “Are you planning to run?”
A small jerk in her shoulders. Curious. I almost made her laugh. “Yes . . . if I have to.”
“But in the meantime, you’re catching bad guys.”
Another jerk. Another almost laugh. This girl is walking, talking damage . . . so why is she so perfect?
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Griff.” Her eyes are pinned to something beyond me. She must have realized Carson’s gone. “I made it worse.”
“I’m not sorry.” At least not for that. As for the other stuff— I stand, approaching her from behind.
Run from me. Just take off now. Only she doesn’t—not even when I lean close, not even when my lips touch the delicate curve of her ear. “You need my help, Wicked. Kiss me and I’ll do it.”
17
“What?” Wick isn’t facing me, but I can hear the incredulity in her voice. I can’t blame her, but I’m not backing down. “Kiss me and I’ll help you.”
“Yeah, I so don’t do blackmail.”
“It’s a barter system, Wicked. You should understand that.” I walk around her, taking my time—except now I’m facing the street again, where even Carson’s absence reminds me how screwed up this is. “You want something from me and I want something from you.”
“That’s not what this about,” she snaps. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because for the first time in three years I have something you want, and I’m going to use it.” I smile and know she sees how fake it is. “See what I meant when I said we were alike?”
I take another step closer, half expecting her to scream. She doesn’t. Her eyes even dip to my mouth. I can do this. It’s just a kiss. I’ve done it so many times before, but never with her.
The volleyball game has finished and the players are splashing out of the pool, returning to the house. Wick’s eyes flick from them to me before she takes a single step backward and I follow.
“Bullshit,” Wick says, dragging her eyes up me. “You’re already in, Griffin. Lauren told me you had names linked to my IP address. So what’s that mean? You’ve already tracked him?”
The “gotcha” tone grates on me. “I did some research. We both know Michael Starling is a fake name and he did the upload from the library. Get the names of whoever checked out the computer with the matching IP address and we have our guy.”
“And you’re going to do that how?”
I shrug. “You have your methods. I have mine. You’re taunting a psychopath, Wick. Whoever this guy is, you don’t want to mess with him.”
She raises her chin. “I have to make this right.”
“It’s never going to be right and you know it. Some things can’t be fixed.”
“But we can make them better.” She pauses. “Fine, I’ll do it . . . I’ll kiss you.”
“I knew you would.”