She drew her legs under her and started to get up. Faster than her eyes could follow, Ray’s hand flashed out and closed around her forearm.
“Where are you going?” he said. He didn’t quite snap, but his voice was hard.
“I was thinking … the shower. Is that okay?”
There was a wild light in his eyes that died at her words. He nodded, his gaze softening as he smiled.
“Of course. No problem. I’ll join you.”
Even though the moment had scared her a little, she had to admit that she enjoyed him being a little possessive. There had been real fear in him for a second as if he had really believed she was about to go somewhere, and he couldn’t stand the idea of her not being by his side.
She got up and headed to the bathroom, showering quickly. Ray came in just as she was leaving, and she saw the hardness flow through his body again. He gripped her hand.
“Don’t leave,” he said, his tone a mixture of demand and request. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I won’t,” she said, kissing him gently. He watched her go as he got in the shower as if he could hold her still with the power of his gaze.
He actually can, but I don’t need him to know that.
She was dressed and finishing toast and coffee when he came into the kitchen. He hurried to make himself something, and she knew he had a plan by the purpose of his movements.
“So, where are we headed?” she asked.
“I need to see my old pal, Microchip Jones,” he said, mumbling through a piece of toast and a gulp of coffee. “He’s our tech head. If anyone can get the footage of the club from last night, it’ll be him.”
“Okay,” she said, finishing her coffee. “If we find the guy, does that mean case closed?”
Ray grinned. “Not quite. But let’s just see if we got anything when those guys threw their shirts off.”
When Ray finished his coffee, they headed out and braved early morning traffic to get to the little computer shop run by Jones. When they entered, the place looked empty even though it was open.
The front area was small and clean with bright blue carpet and gleaming benches where different devices were perched, humming readily as if they could show off their features automatically should a serious customer walk in.
For all I know, they do.
“This is just the front,” Ray said. “My pal Microchip will be in the back.”
He led her past the front desk through a small door, and there the carefully constructed neatness of the front room completely exploded. There were old wooden benches stacked too close to each other, and every surface was covered in computer parts, as well as shelves smothered in tools.
It looked like not a single device was completely intact, with towers looming over exposed motherboards, screens flickering and running with changing figures. More than one device had cords spilling out across the desk like the exposed innards of a dying beast.
“Chippie?” Ray called. There was no answer, but far down the back, there was a sharp snap, a bolt of blue, and a puff of smoke that rose slowly toward the roof.
“Ouch!” a disembodied voice cried. “I warned you not to hurt me like that again. How are we supposed to have a relationship if you keep hurting me like this?”
What the fuck?
Ray rolled his eyes and headed for the back of the shop. Augusta tiptoed after him, worried about what she might see.
They had barely gone two steps when there was another white flash and a bright blue spark, followed by the unmistakable scent of something burning.
Rubber and hair? What the fuck? Is his girlfriend Tasering him?
“Please, stop that,” the voice moaned. “I don’t want to have to take you apart. Please don’t make me hurt you.”
Augusta’s heart rate jumped another notch. Ray did not seem worried, and that scared her even more. Then, there was another flash and a small plume of smoke, very close now.
“That’s it, you cantankerous troll!”