Page 16 of Avocado Protection
Up in the lab, Fynn closed and locked the door, then went to a cabinet by a sink at the end of the room. Opening the cabinet revealed a professional-looking espresso machine. Fynn started the grinder. “Betty. The sole love of my life.”
“I haven’t seen her before.” Fynn usually used a simple filter and electric kettle in the lab.
“I save her for times of need. There’s more mess, but sometimes the crema on top saves my soul.” Fynn glanced over his shoulder. “Want a cup?”
Espresso might be overkill, but Nolan wasn’t going to turn down Fynn’s offer. “Sure. Show me what she’s got.”
Fynn patted the top of the machine. “She’s the best.” When the first tiny cup was filled, Fynn brought it to Nolan. “Tell me that’s not the best ever.”
Nolan was prepared to lie, but a sip of the creamy foam on the surface told him he didn’t have to. “Yeah. Good stuff.” He drank slowly, watching Fynn gulp his coffee down with his eyes closed and then inhale the aroma from the empty cup.
“I’d love another, but I should get to work.” Fynn held out a hand. “Let me wash up and run the fan. The aromatics have to be cleared, even if they’re not in the spectroscopic range of what I’m working on.”
“I can wash dishes.” Nolan took Fynn’s cup instead and turned to the small sink beside the cabinet. Running the water hot, he added a touch of dish soap to each cup and worked the surfaces clean with his fingers. Fynn hovered, so Nolan took his moment. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to drive to the lab this morning in your personal car?”
“I didn’t know?” Fynn’s tone made that a question.
“You didn’t even list work in the weekend possibilities.”
“I didn’t want you to think I was pathetic, all right? Like I have no life outside my lab. Some weekends I don’t even come in. I had an idea in the night.”
“If you’d given me advance warning, we could’ve rigged dash cameras for your car. Or better, driven you in one of ours—”
“I get it!” Fynn snapped, his color rising. “I screwed up. Sorry. My bad. I’m just stupid.”
Nolan had to laugh.
Fynn colored redder and whirled away.
Nolan grabbed his elbow with a wet hand. Fynn’s arm vibrated like a livewire under his touch. “Hey, no, I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing because you’re so damned far from stupid.”
Fynn froze, glancing over his shoulder. “What do you call today’s mess?”
“Bad luck, bad timing. Maybe bad judgment, on my part as well as yours because I could’ve asked you specifically to clear any excursions with me first.”
Pulling free, Fynn strode across the lab, whirled and headed back. “What if I don’t want to clear my life with you?” He hummed a sound in his throat, and added, “I resent them.”
“Them? The kidnappers?” Nolan felt a rush of pleasure when Fynn nodded.Getting the hang of how he thinks.“Oh, I do more than that. I hate them. I don’twantyou to be in the position of scrutinizing every move you make for risk. But until we figure out who they are, or they give up and move on, we’re stuck with precautions. You’re stuck with me.”
“I don’t mindyou.” Fynn stopped abruptly, a couple of feet from Nolan. Their eyes met. Something hot and electric and unexpected jumped between them, as if a static shock could cross open space.
Nolan licked his lips, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m glad. Hopefully this won’t last too long.”
“Yeah.” Fynn sounded hoarse.
Nolan cleared his own throat. “So. Anyway. This attempt tells us these guys aren’t just opportunists who thought you looked like an easy target. They want you enough to try again. Which really puts ex-employees and people who might resent you higher on the list. No new thoughts?”
Fynn’s shoulders slumped. “No.”
“Ex-boyfriends, perhaps? Someone who wishes he’d stuck with you because now he’d be rich, so he’s gonna get his cut this way?” If so, Nolan wanted the pleasure of beating the guy’s head in personally.
“I haven’t had a boyfriend. Not really. I went out with a guy in grad school a few times, but he broke up with me. He hated that I was always running late for stuff. He claimed I didn’t care enough to pay him my full attention. He was probably right.”
“His loss,” Nolan pointed out. Yeah, Fynn’s brain seemed to run on a dozen simultaneous tracks when he wasn’t head-down in some intense focus, but that was part of his charm.
Charm? Look out, Stone. He’s a client. They don’t have charm.
But Fynn was different from all the other well-off people Nolan had protected. Fynn hadn’t done anything to seek public attention, hadn’t wanted it, and seemed to be getting very few perks in exchange for his wealth. He was easy to care about.
