I need to get laid before I get shot.
“Whatcha thinking about?” she asks.
I make an ‘eh’ sound and fake relaxation. “World domination. What about you?”
She shrugs like my answer is legitimate. “Same. I’m always thinking about world domination. Did you hear me about the pin lock system?”
“Nope, sorry.” I run a hand over my face and blow out a heavy breath.
I’ve had too many sleepless nights, which have been compounded by too many nights where Icouldsleep, but Jay couldn’t, so he’d drive out to my place, and we’d shoot to perfect our already perfect aim. Now I’m running on a week of sporadic sleep at best, and dragging ass because of it.
I’m not active military anymore. My life doesn’t have to revolve around sleeping when I can, and waking like my life depends on it. But I feel as worn down now as I used to while working. Which feels really fucking dramatic for a guy who knows starvation and fights to the death.
Poor me, with all my modern conveniences and a comfortable bed.
“Go on.” I drop my hands and look back to the computer. “Tell me about the pin lock system.”
“You got something you wanna talk about?” Andi’s eyes don’t leave her sketchpad. Her hand doesn’t stop moving. But she speaks as though she’s part of this conversation. “Something on your mind?”
“I do not gossip, ladies. You know this about me.”
“Maybe you should try it.” Finally, Andi’s eyes come up. “It doesn’t always help, but you never know. This might be the one time that it does. We’re in the cone of silence, we won’t tell anyone what you say.”
“Pass, but thanks.” I start collecting the papers spread out on the table in front of me. Sketches, notes, cartoon drawings of redheaded women with big eyes that are as unique as the bullshit that streams through my mind. “If we’re done here, I have someplace I have to be.”
“Did you install Nadia’s system yet?”
“No.”
Andi grins. “Did youorderNadia’s system yet?”
“Yes.” I toss a pencil and smile when it lands on Andi’s paper. “I ordered it this morning, smartass. It’ll get here day after tomorrow. I’ll install it later this week, and then Laine can quit nagging me for the sake of nagging.”
“She does it because it’s fun,” Soph says. She works on her computer, but speaks like what her hands are doing doesn’t require massive amounts of brainpower. “You’re like her crash test dummy for men. I mean, who is badder than Spencer Serrano?” Her eyes come up. “Nobody. So she uses you, nags you, taunts you, because if she can step up to you, then no man can ever intimidate her. She’s got Ang wrapped around her finger, Kane is a marshmallow for her and Jess, Eric has always been soft for her, and Riley is busy with his leg shit. That leaves you… dummy.”
“Call me ‘dummy’ again, ballerina. I dare you.”
Chuckling, she grabs the mouse for her computer and shows me the prosthetic with the gun firmly in place, camouflaged into the rest of the design. “Here ya go,dummy. No one will ever know he’s got an extra piece. Airports will let him through, because they can’t discriminate, and scanning it won’t give away any of his secrets. We could send him into the White House, and no one will know he’s packing.”
“So you’re saying…”
“Riley can be our Terminator.” She pushes her laptop away and sits back in her chair. “Our indestructible bionic. What are your thoughts on installing titanium plates throughout his whole body? Chest, abdominals, head, arms… fists.”
“No bueno,” Andi murmurs. “He’s not a national weapon to be conscripted and used for your pleasure.”
“Only yours, then?”
“Mmhmm.” Andi pushes pencil shavings off her page and grins. “All mine, and mine alone. We can mess around with his leg, but that’s all we get. Here.” She blows on her page with a loud gust, then she lifts the book and spins it to show off an image that isn’t a sketch of stick-figure quality, but something you’d expect to see in a tattoo parlor. The shading, the intricacies, the detail. Andi acts like she’s brainless and all about the fun things in life, but beneath that, she’s smart as a whip, talented with a pencil, and loyal to a fault. “Can we get a skin made to look like this? It’ll almost look like he has a real leg, but like, fully tattooed. He can switch it out whenever he gets bored. He can have a new look every week if he wants.”
Soph stands, only to lean over the wide table to get a closer look at the sketch. Her tiny ballerina ass is barely two feet from my face, wrapped in tight jeans and swaying within reach. But all I can think about is Miss Priss’ non-existent ass.
“That drawing is badass, Andi. It’s like a real machine with roses weaving through.”
“It’s totally badass,” Andi agrees. “Maybe I should have this tattooed onto my leg too, so Riley and I can match.”
“Can you draw something for me?” Soph asks. Her ass is right there. Right fucking there, but my mind circles around to places it shouldn’t. “I want a new piece, but I can’t draw for shit.”
“Sure.” Andi’s jet-black hair hangs in her eyes when she turns her sketchpad back to face her. She drops it onto the table, and picks her pencil up as though she sees imperfections the rest of us can’t see. “Tell me what you want, how big you want it, and where you want it on your body. I’ll draw it up for Ian-the-tattoo-guy. He is talented as hell. He’ll take it from paper to skin, and you’ll never remember your life without it.”