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“We call itBruce.”
“Why?”
“Because Boss knows it all, and Bruce Springsteen is the Boss.”
That’s a hilarious name now that I know the story. I chuckle, but his lip barely raises.
He points at the top of the screen. “You see these tabs here? These are the segments that separate clients by risk and priority.”
I know.
“Open ones are here. Closed cases are here.”
I know that too.
Part of me wants to tell him I already spent lots of time poking around here. Bruce is how I found out about the Lenkov Russian mafia connection to Redleg in the first place.
I let him drone on for a few minutes before I interrupt him. My pride and competitive nature can’t stand it for another second.
Placing my palm on his forearm, I halt his mouse-clicking movements. “Tomer, stop. I have a confession.”
Klein scoffs, “Oh, this should be good. You’d need a priest to hearyoursins.”
Peeking over my shoulder, I cut a harsh glare at him. “I thought you were listening to music.”
“Dead battery in my earbuds,” he lies.
So transparent.
“So you just leave dead earbuds in your ears?”
“Anything to drown you out so I can focus on coding.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were coding, what with the lack of results and all.”
“Well, I’mtrying, but I keep getting interrupted.”
“You are trying, aren’t you? Very trying,” I quip.
His gaze darkens. “Quit trying to push my buttons,” he snaps.
“Oh, you have buttons? Cool. Where’s the mute? Or the fast forward so you can get through that coding before the world stops spinning.”
He opens his sexy mouth to snap back at me, which I totally deserve. But he’s interrupted by a series of increasingly loud tones on his cell phone. Jumping up, he grabs his phone and dashes to the door. “Got to go, T. Call you in a few.”
Tomer and I watch him retreat. Once he’s exited the room, we meet eyes.
When Tomer doesn’t say anything, I ask, “What was that about?”
“Not sure. It happens every now and then.”
My head kicks back. “And you don’t ask him where he’s running off to?”
Tomer’s eyes pinch tight and lips purse. “That would imply I give a shit.”
One of my boisterous laughs escapes. It makes him smile.
Finally.
