Page 64 of Lone Wolf

“One died, one went missing. One married a Chinese businessman, lives in Beijing, and is unrecognizable to me and me to her.”

There was no grief in her voice, nor was her tone dulled or deflective. There was no emotional ask, no incomplete part of herself that she was looking for him to fill. And he understood that she’d shared these pieces of herself not to elicit pity or cheap condolences but to allow him to know that she had even more strength than he imagined, the kind of strength that demanded respect. He found it breathtaking, that courage to set her full self forward, to require nothing, to fear nothing.

It was a courage he lacked.

He had no idea how to push any of these sentiments into words, to accept and match what she was giving him. “I’m sorry…” A hitch in his processing. What was he trying to say? “I’m sorry I’m not more forthcoming.”

Her smile was perfection. And it carried a glint of her usual self, devious and unruly and smarter than everyone around her. “I don’t need you to be forthcoming. I know what I care to know about you already.”

“How’s that?”

“Women know everything, Evan. Especially about men. We know which men actually like women. Which men respect us. The ones who are scared of us. The ones who are really scared of us—the controlling ones. We know who wants us to take care of them. Who wants to save us. Who wants to be our daddy. Who wants to get into our pants. Who wants to make love to us.” She paused. “Who’s curious.”

She watched him and he watched her right back. Over the scent of incense and spice he could barely make out a note of her lavender skin cream.

“Well…” Rising, she cleared the plates to the counter, setting them down with a clink. “It’s getting late. I think I’ll turn in.”

She breezed back past him and down the dimly lit hall. At the mouth of her bedroom, still facing away, she slid one slipper off with a toe and then the other. She paused by the doorway with her hand on the frame for a moment, giving him a glimpse of her silhouette, then crossed the threshold out of sight.

Evan sat for a moment, feeling her graceful exit in his bones.

Then he walked down the hall to her bedroom.

33

None of Your Business

“Where are you?” The sound waves mapping Joey’s voice, thrown from the RoamZone’s holographic display, danced above the screen like a tiny orange fire.

Evan sat up in the sheets, rubbed his eyes. Gray early-morning light fell through the window at a sharp angle, sliced by the exterior wall of the façade. At his side, Melinda stirred. Quietly he slipped from her platform bed, stepping into his cargo pants.

“Looking into something.”

“O-kay. Well, I got a lead.”

Evan tugged on his shirt, eased one foot into a boot and then the other. “You hacked into Hill’s files?”

“No,” Joey said. “The encryptions are a bitch so I’m still whaling away. I have a lead on the—” Movie Trailer Voice: “‘Canine Investigation.’” Back to normal. “The snout-recognition software hit on Loco a few blocks from Hill’s town house. Go look for him. I made more flyers and hid them beneath your passenger seat yesterday.”

“What? Why?”

“So I wouldn’t have to put them up.”

Melinda slid up with a single fluid movement, the sheets mostly coming with her, a wave of loosed hair flowing over a shoulder to cover her exposed breast. “Evan?”

Joey said, “Who’s that?”

Evan said, “Text me coordinates,” and hung up.

Melinda’s eyes glinted like a cat’s in the dark. A three-wick candle still guttered on the nightstand of fine ash, casting her in living light. “Heading out?”

“Yes.”

“I started Thian and his team on building your legend last night, Professor Evan of the Harvard Psychology Department.” She grabbed her phone, checked the time. “I’ll go in and oversee first thing. We should have the digital infrastructure built out by midday.”

Evan would call Devine and ask him to set up the meeting with Allman as soon as possible. “Excellent.” Starting out, he felt the roll of cash in his cargo pocket press into his thigh and hesitated.

Melinda raised a thin eyebrow. “What?”