“We don’t. . . . I don’t think he will though.” Milo pulls out a couple of chairs shoved into the corner and offers me one. “He’s not dangerous. It’s just, like, an episode. He gets them sometimes—especially when he’s off his meds.
“Look, your little girlfriend is fine.” Milo smiles again. This time though it’s forced, lips pulled up with strings. He glances in my direction, catches me staring at him. “See something you like?”
“You wish,” I say, turning a small circle to take in the room. There’s dead takeaway piled in the trash can and the floor doesn’t look like it’s been vacuumed in weeks. Typical. Computer geeks are such slobs. If his mom shows up, the cliché will be complete.
Well. Almost complete. Milo’s computers are pristine. The desk is wiped clean, no food within spilling distance, the cords are neatly tied together—even the screens are dust free. It shouldn’t matter, but I like him a little more because of it.
“So.” Milo drops into a roller chair and spins it to face me. “Talk. What kind of system do you need?”
Eyes on Griff, I give Milo the quick run-down on what I need and who I’m up against, and when I finish, the builder lets out a low whistle.
“So to get to your guy, you have to go through Barton and Moore? That’s a high-end target.”
I glance at Milo. “Too high-end for you?”
He smirks. “Not at all. I’ll do it.”
And there’s something about the way Milo says it that makes the whole thing sound like fun. I grin because, for this really weird second, it feels like I get Milo—really get him—and it’s so strange and funny I turn to Griff, expecting him to laugh like I want to laugh.
But when our eyes meet, I can tell he also sees the thing between Milo and me and he doesn’t find it funny at all.
“Eight grand,” Milo says, waiting for my response.
I blink. That’s a lot of money. I have it—I’ve been stockpiling cash for a couple years now in case Lily and I had to run. I just . . . “Fine.”
“Good.” Milo scribbles something down on a notepad and, ripping the page off, hands it to me. “Wire it to this info. You don’t show up when I call, I part the machine out, understand?”
“Yeah.” I start to go and Milo jumps up.
“I’ll walk you out.”
“Think we can find the way,” Griff says, and there’s something threaded underneath his tone that makes me pause.
It makes Milo laugh. He follows us and we’re almost to the door when I notice the low-slung table near the wall. It looks like computers come there to die. There’s a soldering gun in one corner and parts are strewn everywhere, some of them snapped into pieces . . . except for a black box smaller than my fingertip.
“What’s this?”
“Sniffer.” Milo passes it to me and, even though I don’t want to be, I’m impressed.
I fit the sniffer against my palm, testing the weight. “Did you make it?”
“Like duh.” Milo rolls his eyes and plucks the transmitter from my hand. “It’s specifically designed for BlackBerrys. You pop off the bottom of the handset’s charging station, attach this baby, and away you go. It copies me on emails, internet usage, texts.”
My heart bumps into my throat. It’s perfect. This could get me close to Bay without actually getting close to Bay.
Only it’s not perfect because I’d have to get my hands on Bay’s BlackBerry charger.
“Does it work?” I ask.
“Of course it works.” Milo turns over the transmitter, pokes it with one finger. “Well, it should work. I haven’t had a chance to test it. Everyone I know has either iPhones or Androids. I need to get close to a BlackBerry user.”
Again, the proximity problem. I look at Griff, feel the familiar squeeze deep in my chest.
“How much?” I ask.
Milo’s face wrinkles in confusion. “For this? It’s not for sale. I’m trying to figure out how to scare BlackBerry so they buy the patent from me.”
“What better way to do that than by showing them it actually works?”
Milo goes still. “A thousand.”
“You’re high.”
“If only.” Milo shrugs. “Six hundred.”
“I’m already buying an entire system from you.”
He smiles. “Five.”
I stare at him, waiting, and Milo smiles wider. “Fine.” He drops it in a plastic baggie and tosses it to me. “It’s free—only because I like you and I want details of how well it works.”
“If it works.”
“When it works.”
Outside there’s a crack of thunder and the lights flicker once, kick-starting the low hum of generators in some other room. We must have lost power.
“Storm’s getting worse,” Griff says. He’s watching us without meeting my eyes. “Let’s go before the Mini ends up floating.”
“Okay.” I follow him, and Milo trails after me. The rain’s coming down in sheets now and Griff takes my keys, promising to drive my car close so I can duck in without getting totally drenched. I start to say it doesn’t matter and I don’t mind, but he’s already off and running.