AllFreeNovel
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Time really does warp.
“Not location, but there’s buzz out there. We’re hoping this little stunt of yours smokes them out. Newman’s working overtime with your algorithm to find exact names and locations.”
“I could do so much better.”
“Well, you’re not here, are you?” she responds with a bitter tone. “Plus, we interviewed Makiah Rooney, and he said nothing. You turned his face into an abstract watercolor, though.”
“The pleasure was all mine.”
“I’ll bet. After what he did to you at Gaia…”
“Yeah.”
“Stock price for Synergy900 Holdings is all over the place right now, too.”
“Really? That means Rooney said something.”
“Or the person who sent The Basher has an agenda tied into the whole DNA database.”
I don’t want to say too much to Debbie, but I have to say something to someone. Being a lone wolf has its pluses, but sometimes you need a team.
Even if it’s a team you’ll double-cross in a heartbeat.
That’s why working with Debbie is possible. We both know we’ll screw each over in a second if it’s the most expedient thing to do for our goals.
And that means we respect each other.
“How so?” I ask, purposefully being vague.
“Synergy900 Holdings is a shell corporation. A front. A bullshit operation created to look like a consumer product but it’s really all about weeding these Viking Virgins out from the general population so the billionaires can play Build-a-Kidney with them,” she says in a tight voice. “Why would their stock price fluctuate after Paigelynn’s been taken from the people controlling her?”
“Or from The Basher’s death.”
“Or,” she adds, “from a variable we’re not considering.”
Me?
I wonder ifI’mthe variable.
“These people do what they need to do to survive. They’re cockroaches. Rich cockroaches. Wealthy beyond fathomability,” I say, looking around the thousand-square-foot open-concept living room I’m in, with the kitchen a wall of sparkling stainless steel. A press of a button changes the waterfall to the ocean, the lapping sound of waves on sand and the color tone of light so good a simulation I can feel sand in my ass crack.
“Yeah. And they don’t like losing. Ever. Not money, not companies, not trophy wives, and certainly not incubators and organ donors. You’re currently hiding a billion-dollar virgin.”
“Thanks for lowering the stakes, Debbie.” I’ve already had a cup of coffee, but the conversation tires me, so I find the espresso machine, recessed into the wall, inside a cabinet, and press a button.
Grinding commences. Water heats, then pours from a valve pressed hard against the coffee grounds. Someone, years ago, got paid an exorbitant sum by a billionaire, signed an NDA to never discuss this location, all to set up a water filtration and delivery system that would go two hundred feet underground so I can make push-button espresso and caffeinate.
God bless America.
“Wherever you are, I hope you have a good team defending you.”
So do I, I think but don’t say. When you spend most of your adult life finding ways to play people against each other, you never really trust anyone.
Least of all, yourself.
“We’re good. She’s sleeping now. Yesterday was a lot.”
“The last thirteen years of her life have been a lot. It’s a miracle you got to her before they did.”
