by Emma Shortt
It would be a game changer. And she was so close to solving it, had almost figured it out, when X-Tech had invited her to that damn competition.
Had she told them what she was doing? Yes, of course, she had. Had she told them how she was doing it? No, Meg wasn’t stupid. She’d given X-Tech only enough to interest them. And her plan had worked; it had interested them. Interested them enough that they’d simply gone ahead and stolen it.
“You’d be only the second person to claim one of the prizes,” Kate was saying now. “No one is even close to claiming any of the others.”
“X-Tech is.”
“Yes, with your work.” Kate squeezed her hand even harder. “Your work, Meg. Work that they stole. You can’t forget that.”
“I’m not,” Meg said.
“Or let yourself be distracted from it,” Kate continued. “We don’t know Chance. We don’t know anything about him beyond what he has told us.” She hesitated for just a moment. “I know you’re attracted to him. You want to jump into bed with him.”
“Kate!”
“Well, you do,” she said, the hesitation no more. “It’s obvious. But you need to be cautious. Get a picture of him. We’ll run it through Google’s reverse image. See what pops.”
“You think that’ll help?”
“I think we have to cover all our bases,” Kate said. “I’ve already put a call out on some of the sites.” She frowned. “I was thinking that Chance might have done the same thing to track you down, but if he did I can’t find any trace of it. Makes me even more nervous.”
“You think Chance is on the nerd forums?” Meg asked. “That doesn’t seem likely. How would he even know to get into them?”
“X-Tech knows how to get into them,” Kate said. “If he’s working for them…”
“They’ll know we’re asking about him,” Meg said.
Kate shrugged. “I’ve tried to be subtle.”
Meg arched a brow. “Subtle?”
Kate shot her a scowl. “I’m way subtler than you are.”
Silence fell between them for a moment. Meg used it to think about everything that Kate had just said. She didn’t know if her friend was right about Chance, but there was no doubt that she was right about one thing: Meg had to concentrate on what was really important here.
The work.
It was always about the work.
Wasn’t it?
“I’m meeting him this afternoon,” Meg eventually said. “Well, this evening now. You need to go home and rest, and I need to keep the store open.”
“No,” Kate said. “You need to be at that interview at the exact time it was arranged. Be there for every interview. Every snippet of information. I’ll ask one of Will’s sisters to man the store. You’ll be on your guard?” she asked.
“I will be,” Meg said, making her voice as firm and steady as she possibly could. “I will.”
As the sun reflected off their entwined hands, as her phone started to beep with messages from the Python crew, Meg honestly didn’t know who she was trying to convince. Kate or herself.
Chapter Eleven
Chance waited for Meg outside of the café where the first of the nerds that he had tracked down had agreed to meet them. Her name was Florence. She was a computer science student from the local university and had come up with a travel app that had all kinds of potential.
She had been on the “nerd list” that Meg had put together both from memory and the notes that she had made. Meg had sent the list across via a popular messaging app. Chance had given her his username last night. It had been easy enough to create one linked to the website he’d set up for his PI business. The app was one of X-Tech’s, invented by Chance many years ago, and would offer Meg no opportunity to dig up any information that he didn’t want her to have.
Chance had spent the remainder of last night checking all the names on Meg’s list against the records inside of X-Tech. None of them matched. Florence’s travel app wasn’t in any of their projects. That wasn’t to say her code hadn’t been manipulated and added to another project somewhere, but if so, Chance couldn’t track it down. He’d also spent some time that morning on the forums, looking for evidence of other “competitions” as well as whatever information he could find about the people on Meg’s list. There were eight of them in all. They would have to speak to each and every one.
Chance would be a liar if he didn’t admit that he was nervous about that as he waited for Meg to arrive. He found himself wondering what she would be wearing. What color her lips and nails might be. How she might greet him. He also found himself, and it killed him a bit to admit it, wondering if she was thinking similar things about him.
He suspected she might be because Chance knew that Meg was attracted to him. A few years back he’d made a study of understanding the signals that women gave when they were attracted to someone. It had been a comprehensive study, involving quite a few literature reviews. Chance had compiled a list at the end of it; he’d even tried his hand at writing an algorithm that might explain the complexities around it all. He remembered almost everything that was on that list, and he’d spent some time reviewing the items as he made his way home last night. Subtle signals. That was what they had been described as.
Meg was not subtle.
Not at all.
That worried Chance.
He jammed his hands into his pockets at the same time as a couple ambled past him. Both men were dressed in the typical style around these parts: jeans, sweaters, and sneakers. They didn’t have their hands in their pockets, though, because they were entwined. Chance had never walked down a street holding hands with someone. It wasn’t that he had never wanted to; there had never been an opportunity.
Chance had been a teenager when he’d had the first idea that would send him down the path to the creation of X-Tech. He’d put all his energies into that idea, and then the one after that, and then the one after that. Dating simply hadn’t been on Chance’s radar, and not least because back then he was not the sort of guy women went for. By the time Chance started to think about a girlfriend, he was already ridiculously rich and painfully famous.
Did those women want him, or did they want Jack Richards?
Chance had never been sure. He hadn’t been sure about a lot of things in those days. The inventions, the rapid advances, the changes they were making… In the end, Chance knew he had to put some distance between him and Jack Richards. He’d left the country for a year. When he came back, he joined a gym, built some muscle, cut his curly hair as short as possible, and grew a beard. The gray sweater had also been retired. Chance would be a liar if he didn’t admit that he’d felt more than a few pangs as he scrubbed image after image of himself from the Web. He’d been wearing the gray sweater in all of them.
With the changes to his appearance, and only a few grainy images left on the Web, people soon stopped recognizing him. Chance installed a private elevator in X-Tech Towers. He avoided almost everyone in the company but Gabe. The media labeled him a recluse. The tech forums insisted he was hiding away working on something groundbreaking, something world-changing. And they were right. Chance was. He’d identified several mathematical puzzles and numerous advances that he knew, he simply knew, that the world was not ready for. Not yet. And so, he solved them, and he hid them, and he kept watch, waiting to see who else was close, who else might tip the balance toward a world that no one was really ready for.
Meg was close.
Too close.
Chance had no fucking idea what he was going to do about that.
“Chance?”
He tore his gaze away from the couple to see Meg standing off to the side. How long had she been there? Had she been watching him? What was she thinking? Chance’s mind raced with questions even as a shot of guilt forcefully hit him.
“Afternoon, Blue.”
She tilted her head. Her hair was scraped back. It highlighted her features. Chance liked those features. A lot. Dammit.
“Didn’t we agree to let that nickname die a quick death?” she asked.
“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Chance said, and then before he could stop himself, he said. “Besides, you like it.”
“Do I?” she asked, but she was smiling.
Chance noted there was a small dimple on her left cheek. The urge to reach out and brush his thumb over it was almost overwhelming. He clenched his fists in his pockets.
“Aren’t you going to comment on the fact that I’m late?” she asked.
Chance hadn’t even noticed. “It’s just a few minutes.”
“But you should know that I’m often late,” she said. “I have a very creative interpretation of time.”
“Because it’s a construct?”
The smile slipped away. Meg crossed her arms. “That’s a strange thing for a PI to say.”
It was. Chance hadn’t considered it. Time was something that had always interested him, and he realized then that he wanted to bring up his interests with Meg. He wanted to see if she found them interesting, too.
Abruptly, his mind filled with an image of Meg in his apartment, sitting in his tech room, fingers flying over the keyboard, blue hair curling around her slender neck. She’d look just right there, surrounded by all his tech. Hell, the room was practically made for her, and Chance wanted to see her there.
But that was impossible.
He must stop this.
He was playing a part. A part he had designed specifically for her.
For the very first time Chance found himself wondering if it was “Jack Chance PI” who Meg found attractive and interesting. If he stood here in his gray sweater, hair shooting off in all directions, all awkward and nervous, would Meg be showing any of those subtle signals?
Chance swallowed uncomfortably as the answer to that question hit. It took effort to keep his voice steady as he replied, “Because I’m not a doctor? Blue, this is not the first time you’ve cast aspersions on my intelligence.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said.
“Of course, you did,” Chance replied. He paused for a moment. “I have lots of interests, Blue, some of them would probably surprise you.”
She uncrossed her arms. One hand wrapped around the strap of her satchel. Her nails were painted bright pink with little flecks of silver glitter. Chance couldn’t help but wonder how much time she spent painting them every day.
“I’m starting to suspect there’s a lot about you that’s going to surprise me, Chance,” she said.
She had no fucking idea. Chance’s chest tightened again. Mostly, because he didn’t know what else to do, he gestured toward the café. “Shall we go inside?”
“Before we do, tell me something, Chance,” she asked. “How did you get into X-Tech Towers?”
He’d expected that question long before now. “I had help,” Chance said.
“From who?”
He could hardly say himself. “How did you get into the tower?” he asked instead.
“I had help, too.”
“From who?”
She shook her head.
“I see neither of us wants to give up our secrets,” he said. “Not yet, at least.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “But I do want some answers, Chance. Let’s start with why were you looking through X-Tech’s servers.”
“For evidence,” Chance replied. “I already told you that.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Evidence of wrongdoing.”
“Yessss,” she said, drawing out the word. “I get that, but what did you even hope to find?” She paused, and Chance could tell that she wanted to say something else. He wanted to hear whatever that was.
“Go on,” he said.
She frowned. “I’m not trying to cast any ‘aspersions,’ but how would you even know what you’re looking for? I mean, it’s not like X-Tech is going to have a file labeled the shit we stole and how we did it.”
“No,” Chance agreed. “They wouldn’t. But where there’s wrongdoing there is always evidence of it.”
“Evidence you probably wouldn’t understand,” Meg said.
If Meg ever did find out the truth, she’d surely remember every single time she had suggested that he was lacking in the gray matter.
“Blue, what are you getting at here?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Chance,” she said. “But I do know that you’re not being honest with me.”
Chance’s heart actually seemed to skip a beat. He clenched his fists even tighter.
“Meg…”
“If you were, you’d already have shared what you have,” she added. “I mean, if we’re supposed to be working as a team, and I’ve already shared everything I know with you…” She pulled a face. “I’ve probably shared too much with you. I showed you the ants!”
“They were very interesting,” he said, and it took some effort to hide the relief from his voice.
She sighed. “You didn’t even understand them.” Another sigh. “My point is, if we’re really going to work on this case together, then we should be pooling all of our information. It’s an incomplete dataset otherwise.”
She did have a point. “You want me to share the results of my investigation so far?”
“Yes, I do.”
He couldn’t take her to his apartment. The game would be over the moment she saw his light sabers. Not to X-Tech Towers, either. Chance’s mind raced as he considered where he could take her to show her the chronology. Not all of it, of course, just some of it. Enough for her to get the overall idea at least, and to feel that he was being honest with her.
He pulled his hands from his pockets as he thought about the building not far from X-Tech Towers, a sort of creative hub that techy types used to hot-desk and network. Chance could surely take her there. After all, he owned the whole building, and the company that ran the place. They would put an office aside for the afternoon if he asked. An email from his X-Tech address would be enough. He wouldn’t even need to say it was for him but for a coworker.
He gestured to the café, a plan forming. He’d order their drinks. That would give him time to send the email. Once this interview was over, he would take Meg there and show her a summary of the chronology. She’d trust him then. Wouldn’t think he was lying to her. Would give him all the help that he needed to crack this investigation.
“Let’s get this first interview out of the way then, and I’ll show you exactly what I’ve got,” he said.
“That would make me very happy, Chance,” she replied.
And the guilt hit forcefully all over again, because Chance, even as he held the door open for her, understood that he wanted to make her happy; But, fact was, once this was done, she would be anything but.
Chapter Twelve
The first interview was a complete bust. Well, no, that wasn’t strictly true because Florence was more than willing to help Chance out in any way she possibly could. But where X-Tech was concerned, the competition, Meg’s work, there was nothing there. Florence was years away from perfecting her work and honestly, from the sounds of it, Meg wasn’t entirely sure there was anything original or interesting there.
She scowled as she made her way down the street—the damn cobbles in this part of town catching on her heels—because she knew full well that she was being unfair. Florence was a smart, interesting woman, who clearly had talent, but Meg had not liked the way she had looked at Chance. Not at all.
The same way you look at him…
Her scowl deepened. There was no getting away from the fact that she probably did have that very same look on her face when Chance was near, but Meg was in no mood to consider that. Instead, she found herself dwelling on the fact that Chance had taken extra time at the counter to pick out cupcakes for her and Florence. Only, Florence’s had been a luscious chocolate concoction whilst Meg’s had been lemon sponge. Lemon sponge. Meg wasn’t even sure why that annoyed her so much, but it did.
She pulled the
strap of her satchel up her shoulder as she carried on down the street. There was a bakery right opposite her. There would be chocolate cake in there. Meg’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since this morning—not counting the lemon cupcake and why the hell would she?—and burying her face in a bowl of meringue sounded good right about now.
“Meg, where exactly are we going?”
Meg came to a halt. It was entirely possible that she planned to head to the bakery. “We’re going to get some decent cake and then we’re going to look at your evidence,” she said.
Chance shot her a look. “Okay, but if you’re planning on walking to my office it’ll take us a while.”
There was a queue outside the bakery. Did Meg even want to wait in it? Any other day the answer would be a resounding yes but Chance was here, and the evidence was waiting, and Meg was feeling weirdly scratchy about the whole thing. Maybe it was Kate’s warnings still running around her mind. Maybe it was because Chance had dodged most of her questions. Or maybe it was just because Meg had suddenly realized that Chance probably had a slew of women lining up to help him out. And while it was true that Meg did not mind competition—if anything, it brought out the best in her—for some reason, she didn’t like it where Chance was concerned.
“We need a cab?” she asked after a moment.
Chance shook his head and gestured behind them. “I have my car. It’s in the lot across the way.”
“Fine,” Meg said. “Let’s go.”
“There’s a bakery by my office,” Chance said as Meg strode off in the opposite direction. “We can pick up something from there.”
“Lemon cake?” Meg asked.
Chance shot her another look. He seemed confused. Meg didn’t blame him. She was confused.
“I don’t really eat sweet things,” he said slowly. “I have a deep and strange dislike of chocolate. And I hardly ever eat cakes. Lemon cake is pretty much the only one.”
