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“No.” He buttoned his pants, did up his belt. “You’ve had enough for tonight. You must earn your treats.”
“Yes, sir.” She struggled into her tight dress as he entered of commands that would give her a higher level of access to relevant files.
“Go wash,” he said. “The car will be waiting in twenty minutes to take you to the airport. Study the files enroute.”
Zoe was looking confused. King manufactured a smile to settle her nerves. “If your assignment is a success, we will dine again, and I will give you a full Level 10 reward sequence. The whole thirty verses.”
Her eyes went wide, dazzled. “Oh, sir,” she whispered. “Really?”
It was a bit iffy, to overuse sexual rewards. In fact, such an overwhelming experience could actually damage her. But sex seemed to be Zoe’s most powerful motivating force. And matters were very urgent.
“I’ve never given the whole sequence to any of my agents before,” he said throatily, stroking her cheek. “But you, my lovely Zoe, are special. A real treasure. So finish this business. And hurry back.”
Zoe scurried to comply.
CHAPTER10
“Pull over here,” Bruno said. “At the mall.”
“Here?” Alex Aaro scowled over his shoulder at them. “You’re being pursued by hit men, and you want an Egg McMuffin?”
Bruno exhaled through his teeth. He bitterly regretted having called the guy. Aaro was not his friend, nor even Kev’s friend. He was Kev’s brother Davy McCloud’s friend, an old Army Rangers buddy. He’d helped them out in the zombie masters debacle, and gotten the shit blown out of his property in the process, so he’d racked up pity points to offset his terminally bad attitude. Plus, he’d helped the McCloud brothers and their friends on other strange exploits, the tales of which were so improbable, Bruno still couldn’t bring himself to believe them. Nutzoid McClouds. They baffled him. But Kev fit right in, even after an eighteen year hiatus. Which, of course, only pissed Bruno off all the more.
Yep, Aaro was resoundingly not his friend, but that was what made this dickface the safest one to call, if Lily was to be believed about the apocalyptic surveillance bullshit. He had his doubts, but those attackers had been focused, trained professionals. Not drug addled street scum. It was weird enough to make him very careful.
In spite of the explosions and the pitched gun battle at his remote forest home, Aaro had, amazingly, stayed out of the press. He kept a low profile, being freakishly paranoid, the McClouds said.
And that meant something, coming from those guys.
“We need clothes, for Lily,” he said. “At the Gresham outlet mall.”
“Retail therapy, for the stress? What’ll it be, Victoria’s Secret?”
He was not rising to the bait. “Clothes,” he said evenly. “Normal, warm winter clothes. I can’t use my cards until I know what the fuck is going on, so you’ll have front me.”
Aaro swerved into the mall entrance. “Let me get this straight. You call at the crack of dawn with a story about bodies on the streets of Portland. You demand taxi service, because out of nowhere, the whole world wants to kill you and your weirdo girlfriend, too.”
Lily bristled. “I am not a weirdo!”
“And now we’re going for a shopping spree at the mall, at my expense. Shall we get a latte and a ginger currant scone at the Coffee People? An acupuncture treatment? A massage?”
Bruno stared at the guy. “I can’t drag her up to Tony’s cabin in a miniskirt and heels. There might be snow up there.”
“Bruno, he’s right. Stopping for clothes would be silly,” Lily said. “Let’s just save that for when we—”
“You’re spattered with blood!” he yelled. “Your coat is canvas, with no lining! You don’t even have any goddamn underwear!”
Lily jerked loose of his encircling arm. “You bastard!” she hissed.
Aaro jerked to a stop, and gave them a knowing look. “Glad to hear the hit men haven’t cramped your sex life any.”
“That was before!” he snarled back. “The hit men came after!”
Aaro flinched, lifting his hands. “Don’t give me the blow by blow. God, look at me, in my sad celibate state. Forced to buy hot lingerie for Bruno’s bare-assed girlfriend.”
“Don’t bother,” Lily told him. “I’d rather die than wear it.”
Aaro turned his sharp, narrow gaze on her. “If death is what you wanted, your new fancy boy fucked that up for you back at the diner. So what would make you feel like living again? Culottes? Tap pants? Stretch lace? Red satin? Go wild, honey. You like thongs?”
