Page 37 of The Specialist

“Highly doubtful.”

He was right. We only hired the best. And the best never talked.

“Still, I’m going to check the system.”

“Okay. Let me know.”

“I will.”

The group ate pizza and drank far too much soda. They moved to the lanes and began to divide up. Iona came over, looking nervous.

“What’s up?” I asked, concerned. Everything seemed fine, although I still felt wary.

“I wanted to ask if you’d be on my team. We’re one short.”

I began to say no when I caught her father’s eye. He nodded, and I realized I had no choice. “One game,” I said.

She grinned, wide and toothy, clapping her hands. She made that noise only teenage girls could make—a high-pitched squeal that seemed to come from her toes, it was so loud. She hurried back to the girls, who all looked pleased.

Inwardly, I groaned. Beside me, Mike chuckled. “You’ve got a fan.”

“God help me,” I muttered and went to pick up a pair of bowling shoes. I returned, slipping off my own shoes and sliding them on. I stood and joined the girls. I stayed in the mode, watching the area, not speaking much, although I clapped with the rest of them and smiled as they teased and taunted one another. None of them took it seriously, and they all seemed impressed with my ability. I hadn’t lied to Sofia. I bowled well, and I made sure Iona’s team won. None of them cared. They all got tiaras to wear to celebrate, and I jokingly let her put one on me, although I removed it as soon as they returned to the room for cake and presents.

I took off my borrowed shoes and headed over to the counter to return them. That was when I saw him. Sitting in the corner, drinking a beer. There was no doubt it was Alex. I approached him, keeping my face neutral. He smirked as I got close.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice low with anger.

He shrugged. “It’s a free country. I’m having a beer.”

“Go have it elsewhere. Stop following me.”

He shook his head. “I’m not following you. I was here first.”

I felt the anger grip me at his lie. He knew my schedule.

“I saw you at the theater.”

He didn’t deny it. He grinned, looking pleased. “I saw you looking.”

I leaned close. “Get out, or I’ll have you escorted out.”

He tsked. “That’s not very polite. I was just enjoying watching you with your little groupies.” He shook his head. “Is that what you’ve sunk to now? The great Egan Vulpe? Babysitting children instead of using your talent?” Again, there was a slow shake of his head. “So much money and power you are letting slip through your fingers. So many detonations you should be creating.”

“What I do or do not do is none of your business. Get out.”

He finished his beer and stood. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

“I doubt it.”

He laughed, the sound of it grating on my nerves. “Oh, you can count on it, Mr. Vulpe. We will find what you cannot live without.”

Ice wrapped around my chest, but I kept my expression neutral. “You cannot take what I do not have,” I lied.

He shook his head. “We will find it. I look forward to working with you.”

“It will be a cold day in hell before that happens.”

He smiled. It was twisted and evil. “Temperatures are dropping as we speak.”