Page 61 of Once a Killer

“Not now, Jameson. We’ll save that for another day.” She tapped his arm, and he froze. Stared down at her fingers against his skin.

She snatched her hand away and curled her fingers into her palm. When she noticed him looking at her hands, she slid them behind her back.

“I’ll be working at the desk in the living room,” he said after a silence that pulsed with desire.

A desire that roared through her, as well. “I’ll be in there, too. With a book,” she said.

He nodded, then stepped past her and hurried into the living room without looking back.

Bree drew in a ragged breath. Another. Then she went into her bedroom and found her e-reader. Carried it into the living room and curled up on the couch. Her fingers brushed the gun in her pocket, then she forced herself to take her gaze off Jameson. She opened the reader, but it was a long time before she could focus on the words in front of her.

* * *

By Friday morning, Bree was ready to get away for a couple of days. There hadn’t been any alarming incidents all week -- no cars followed them, no one showed up unexpectedly at the office, and all the engineers in the lab appeared to be working. Even Stu seemed better. She’d watched the coder approach Jameson when she’d stepped out of the office an hour earlier, and the two of them had talked for a while.

When Stu left, she returned to her desk. Glanced at Jameson, but he gave a tiny shake of his head. “Later,” he mouthed at her.

At noon, Jameson stood up and nodded to her. She slid her computer into her briefcase and saw that Jameson had done the same. Then he stepped into the lab and she followed him, waiting beside the door.

“Hey, guys,” he said. “Bree and I are taking off for a conference. She wants to get the nitty-gritty of a tech conference.”

Hayley called out, “Nerds on parade, Bree.”

Everyone laughed, and Jameson waited until everyone was quiet. “We’ll be back in the lab on Monday. Everyone have a good weekend.”

He lifted a hand and opened the door for her, and she stepped into the hall.

Neither of them spoke until they were in the elevator. Finally, when the doors slid closed, she said, “First of all, Stu. What did he say?”

“That he has a doctor’s appointment next week. To be evaluated for depression.”

“Oh, thank God,” she said, blowing out a breath. “It’s a great first step.”

“Yeah, it is.” He studied her until the elevator stopped and the door opened. “Thanks for realizing Stu had a problem.”

“I’m glad he listened to you.”

Once they were out of the building, she asked, “Did you get everything set up in the office? All the things we talked about?”

“I did most of it last night, when we came back here after dinner. I put a few more safeguards in place today, so we’re good.” He grinned at her, and he reminded Bree of a mischievous boy setting up a prank on his friends. But this wasn’t a prank, and she suspected at least one of the engineers in the lab was not Jameson’s friend.

The others might not be his friends, either, but at least they probably weren’t actively working against him.

They drove back to Jameson’s apartment, collected their luggage and locked the Monster in the garage. She was certain he’d put some devices in the garage, as well, to make sure no one got inside and meddled with the SUV.

Then they carried their luggage to the street behind his house and found a limo waiting for him. They slid into the back seat, and the driver pulled away from the curb.

The driver dropped them at Terminal 3, American’s terminal. As they walked into the building with their luggage, Jameson said, “I told the people in the lab we were flying Southwest out of Midway,” he said quietly as they walked through the terminal.” He shook his head. “I’m becoming paranoid.”

“No, you’re being smart. Taking precautions. Throwing up smoke screens,” Bree said.

“I can’t wait to get this program finished and patented,” he said as they stepped up to a check-in kiosk. “I want to live like a normal person again.”

Bree wondered if that would be possible. With the kind of money that Jameson stood to make from his program, his life would be very different from those so-called normal people.

When it was time to board the plane, Bree was shocked to find that they were in first class. Jameson smiled at her and asked, “You want the window or the aisle?”

“The aisle, of course,” she said, frowning at him. “You think I’d leave you vulnerable in an aisle seat?”

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