Page 27 of Theirs to Hunt
I blink. "Are we kidnapping someone or staging a coup? Chloroform is disturbing, even for you, not judging… just saying."
"They took your orgasms, Reagan. This is war."
I snort into my glass. "They didn't take them. They… reassigned the responsibility."
Bobbie leans across the table, you would have thought I told her I joined a cult. "You're defending them?"
"No, I'm explaining them. There's a difference."
She stares.
I sigh. "Okay fine. I might be defending them. But you weren't there. He looked at me with such single focus. He was mapping out any and all weaknesses."
Bobbie blinks. "Do not make this romantic. They stole your glitter bullet. That thing survived Vegas."
"They took all of them, Bobbie. Even the one I keep for nostalgia."
"Did they leave a calling card? A pressed flower? An image of you on your knees worshipping their—"
"A note," I interrupt, glancing around. "Four words."
I lean back and sip. "'You won't need them.'"
Bobbie stares. "Okay that's hot. But also, what the hell, Rae?"
I shake my head. "That's the thing. I know I should be angry. I want to be angry. But mostly I'm…"
I shift in my seat. "Frustrated."
"Yeah, lack of orgasms will do that."
"No," I murmur. "Not that kind. I mean… I'm keyed up. From the meeting. From that look he gave me. From everything I didn't say."
Bobbie tilts her head. "You pushed him."
I nod. "Just enough to see if he'd push back."
"And?"
"He didn't. But he wanted to." I smile slowly. "It was standing on a fault line and feeling the tremor. But he's waiting. Calculated. Watching."
"Which means you're in the game now." Bobbie leans back. "So, what's your next move?"
I pause. Swirl the ice in my glass. "I'm gonna out-crazy the crazy."
Bobbie raises her eyebrows. "Do we need a safe word?"
"We already have one. It's 'Jeff from Marketing.'"
She laughs, loud and unladylike and perfect. She is more than familiar with the Jeff the Elevator man stories.
Then she sobers. "Rae," she says quietly. "I know you're flirting with the fire, but you see the smoke, right?"
I glance out the window. The street outside is quiet, bathed in the orange glow of streetlamps and the occasional flicker of a passing car.
For a second, I think I see someone across the street, just a dark outline near the wrought-iron fence. But when I blink, they're gone.
I turn back, heart thumping a little too hard.
