“The research help I can use. As for the magic… we’ll see. I’ve gotten this far without any magic broomsticks, despite the rumors back East that I used one.” Shay sat on the edge of the desk. “I can get you more involved. Lend you a few select books from my library warehouse.”
“You have a library warehouse?”
“Warehouse Four. Pretty damned secure and the address will remain that way.”
“You didn’t take me there because you wanted a fallback?”
“Fallbacks. There’s more warehouses. And those books are pretty valuable.”
“More valuable than my life? Ouch.”
Shay winked. “Really valuable.”
“I think this could be the start of building my own legacy. Even if dear old dad comes out of his coma and can do more than drool, I need something that’s my own. Something untouchable by my family, so I can be set loose on the world again and not have to spend the rest of my life hiding.”
“Who do you think is more likely to have paid for the hit? Your brother or your sister?”
“My vote’s gonna go for Randy and not my sister, even if they both don’t like me.” His face twitched.
“And why do you say that?” Shay leaned forward, staring at Peyton.
He rubbed his hands together, pursing his lips. He’s hiding something. Shit.
“Spill it, Tech-Still-Letting-You-Live-Man,” snapped Shay. Concealing his knowledge of magical history was one thing, but she could sense something far more serious.
“Least favorite nickname so far, just saying. Don’t shoot the tech guy but I’ve been… using some of my well-honed computer skills to stalk my family from afar. I’ve been tracing their activities.” He wrinkled his forehead, clapping his hands together in resignation. “Randy’s movements and activities are a lot shadier than my sister’s. I found several suspicious payments the day after you iced me. I’ll give him credit, they were in different accounts, different amounts, for different things, but all on the same day, and all just conveniently happened to add up to the amount you were paid for my death.” He picked at a scratch on the top of the desk. “Makes it a little hard to refute.”
Shay rubbed a hand over her face. Having an inner circle is fucking hard. No wonder it’s taken me this long. “Talk about your lame ideas. You’re good, Peyton, but you’re not perfect. Whether it’s your whole family or just your slick brother, they might still be looking for you. Don’t you think that poking around them in hackerland could end up being a big-ass flare saying you’re still alive?”
Peyton put up his hands. “I know, I know. But I needed to confirm things. Still family… What you said before, I didn’t want to believe it without some proof, but now I can see that you’re probably right. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
Shay leaned over and poked him in the chest, her voice dropping to an icy whisper more for show than anything else. She needed to get her point across and have it last. “Next time you tell me right away. If your ass gets fried, it puts my fine ass in the crosshairs.” She punctuated her sentence with a glare, but she couldn’t blame him for wanting to confirm the truth. Maybe now that he saw the evidence for himself it’d help him adjust better to his new life.
Peyton stumbled over his words. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Just don’t let it happen again. I’d hate to dispose of a useful asset.”
The man’s eyes widened, and his skin grew pale as he held very still.
Don’t worry, Peyton Coolidge. I’m not gonna kill you if I have any other choice. Your job is to keep giving me choices.
“We should go get tacos.”
“I’m still afraid to move.”
Shay smiled, turning her head away for a moment. It was too much. “Peyton, relax. I don’t kill where I live, if I can avoid it.”
She got up to walk toward her car with Peyton right behind her, jabbing his finger in the air.
“See, it’s those loopholes you leave yourself that make the tiny hairs on my neck stand up. You either have a great poker face, Shay Carson, or I’m one foot away from a spring-loaded trap that I’m not seeing.”
Shay opened her door and slid down into the leather seat. “Stick around long enough. You’re bound to figure it out.”
Peyton opened the passenger side door. “That’s humor, right?” He shook his head. “I guess I’m sticking around long enough to see which way this goes. Clearly, I have issues with knowing when to leave.”
Later that evening, long after Shay had driven out of Warehouse Two, Peyton eyed the various equipment lying on the table in front of him, jammers mostly. The more he could prove himself to Shay, the more she would let him into her business. The more he would learn how to roam the streets without giving himself away.
Her look from earlier in the day still made his stomach tighten.
That woman has killed more people than most Navy SEALs. I can’t tell if she’s fucking with me half the time, or if she’ll put me down without even blinking. “Hell, she was friends with her own dead stand-in.”
Peyton groaned as he ran his hand through his hair, turning around, slowly figuring out where to start. He thought he understood what it meant to deal with dangerous people when he traded information in the underworld, but Shay was a whole new level of fearsome. A vicious killer in a pretty package who could crack a joke and eat junk food.
Hard to get a take on her.
On some days she passed for normal, even fun, but on others he felt like if he said the wrong thing she might slit his throat and crack a joke about him needing a cough drop.
He snapped his fingers and ran to the keyboard. Anything to do with
