Page 59 of Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games 2)
Because I’m too emotionally involved, and can’t trust myself.
Harry says, “Chan, sit down at the desk. Miss West, you can tell him what to type.”
Tabby sends Harry a grim smile. “Don’t trust me, O’Doul?”
“Of course not. I don’t trust anybody, it’s bad for business. Now move.”
Agent Chan makes a sorry face at Tabby. When she rises from the chair, he takes her place. Fingers poised over the keyboard, he says, “Ready.”
Standing behind him, Tabby instructs, “Get rid of that shit on the screen. Take us down to the C prompt.”
Chan starts typing. The pictures of war flashing on the monitor vanish, replaced by a normal Windows desktop. A few more keystrokes and the screen goes black. A green cursor flashes at the top left.
Tabby says, “You know your stuff.”
“That’s why I’m the only Special Agent in this group, Miss West.”
As Tabby softly chuckles, Chan waits, eyes fixed on the screen.
“All right, then. Here we go. Type ‘What is divisible by zero?’”
Chan answers automatically, “No number is divisible by zero.”
“I didn’t say what number, did I? Now type.”
After a quick glance at Harry, who nods, Chan begins to type. He presses Enter, and waits.
And keeps waiting. The cursor flashes, but nothing comes back.
A minute passes. Then two. Harry says, “He’s not answering.”
Her gaze fixed on the screen, Tabby murmurs, “Wait for it.”
Then a message blinks up: To whom am I speaking, please?
Ryan snorts. “Pretty polite for a bad guy.”
“Manners make the man,” says Tabby thoughtfully.
Is her tone admiring? I want to reach through the computer and strangle whoever is on the other end.
Tabby instructs Chan, “Now type ‘What is the meaning of life?’”
The instant the question is entered, an answer flashes back: 42.
On the next line: I didn’t realize the FBI had a sense of whimsy. How refreshing. With whom do I have the pleasure of communicating, please?
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Does he always talk like this?”
“Not everyone has a dirty mouth,” says Tabby. When she slides me a smoldering look, my heartbeat goes arrhythmic.
Our gazes hold. Still looking at me, she says to Chan, “Type, ‘If you can answer my first question, I’ll give you my name.’”
After Chan complies, on the screen flashes an animated gif of a cartoon dog with its paws clasped, eyes closed, heart pumping wildly outside of its chest. Beneath the dog are the words Be still my heart! A challen
ge!
Then a T-Rex bursts onto the screen and devours the dog in one giant bite. Blood spurts from its grinning jaws. The dinosaur runs off, trailing intestines.
