Page 25 of Sex, Lies, & Techy Guys (Love on the Sunshine Coast)

Wadding up the piece of paper, I toss it in my newly emptied garbage can.

False hope is worse than no hope. Those two stupid words kept me from moving on with my life.

I need truth. It would be nice to have it from my ex, but his continued absence makes his truth pretty damn clear. I’m done holding out for something that’s never going to happen.

If nothing else comes from my time with Kyle and Lance, I’ve learned that I can move on. I can bare my heart. And I can stand up for myself.

CHAPTER 12

lance

When we walk in the door and Penny doesn’t greet us with her usual sing-song voice, sadness grips me. Sure doesn’t take long to get used to having her in my life.

“Hey honey, we’re home.” I look down the hallway to her bedroom as Kyle and I head to our office to put our laptops away.

Still no response. I’ll check on her in a minute.

The pressure’s on as we enter crunch time for the case. Technically any evidence we can find is due tomorrow morning, so the lawyer can review it and have a solid game plan going into mediation the next day. I doubt Kyle will be able to relax tonight. We simply haven’t found evidence beyond a shadow of a doubt that Penelope Fournier is responsible for the cryptocurrency theft she’s accused of.

And in lieu of that, we’ve also been unable to track who is responsible. The dead ends are more like data has been wiped clean, but that’s almost impossible to do.

Tony’s pissed. The lawyer’s trying to convince him to offer a plea deal. And everyone’s looking to Kyle and me to find the final piece of incriminating evidence so they can confidently threaten her with a trial if she doesn’t confess.

But the longer we’re at this, the less convinced I am that she did it, and not just because her driver’s license photo, which we hacked in to get, doesn’t scream criminal mastermind. I know better than to deem anyone incapable based on a picture. But the bleached blonde, overweight woman with bags under her eyes, whose picture I’m estimating is several years outdated, hits me as more of a woman struggling to get through each day than an internet hacker. Takes all types though.

“I’m going to get back to work,” Kyle says.

“First, come out, get something to eat. Relax for a minute with Penny. It’ll be good for your peace of mind and keep you fresh.”

“You’re right. I always think better after I’ve been with her. And I don’t mean sexually. I never understood why people would say all work no play makes Johnny a dull boy, but I feel how much sharper my mind is after I’ve had time with Penny. She makes me a better person.”

“You and me both, man.” We head back into the living room and she’s entering also, motioning for us to sit.

The usual lightness of her expression is gone. Kyle and I bypass the couches to approach her, but she shakes her head. Her somberness knots my gut as we backtrack and sit on either end of the couch.

I can’t think of what could be bothering her. Except for the travel article that we didn’t write. The entire lie around what we do. I think back to the morning. What did I do with that printout I pretended was ours? We were in a hurry, and I don’t remember.

In the future we need a gameplan on how to provide anonymity for what we do.

“What’s wrong?” I hate not owning my shit, and I truly want to take away all of Penny’s worries, but we’re on the verge of failing to complete the job we were hired to do. There are only hours left before we have to turn over the evidence we’ve found.

I shrink mentally. Lying to her was wrong, I’d felt it in my core. Is this about to explode on us? Ruin the best thing we’ve ever had?

She chooses a chair on the other side of the room instead of sitting with us.

“What’s your pen name?” she asks. There’s hesitation and concern in her voice.

Fuck. I glance at Kyle and he hangs his head.

“Your pen name. Do you write under your real names Kyle and Lance, or do you use a pen name?” she says more firmly.

“It’s not that easy.” I mentally scramble for the best way to handle this.

Kyle angles his head my way.

“It should be.” She moves a hand toward the small table adjacent to her chair and lifts a wrinkled piece of paper.

Shit. Kyle crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me. I take a deep breath and rake my hands down my face. I raise a hand, motioning for him to let me deal with the mess I’ve created. “There’s no pen name, and we’re not travel writers.”

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