Page 40 of Shockproof

“Notfeasibleand notpossibleare two different things, McPherson.” Arrogantly smirking can’t be stopped. “Shouldn’t you know that shit, jellyhead?”

“Jarhead.”

“Close enough.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes, which allows for me to resume facing the group of women who are continuing the line dance activity, although switching steps to fit the Kane Brown song now pumping through the speakers.

McPherson waits until he has a beer to match our laid-back stance.

At that point, I nonchalantly ask, “How’s the tour lineup lookin’?”

“The Marvin Gaye set is on repeat for every major venue.”

For the first time since the incident at the office, relief plops onto my broad shoulders, prompting them to sink to the floor.

Thank fuck there’s some good news.

Knowing Arley is blacklisted from all the major players, all the ones that could possibly be a real threat worth worrying about, will make it a little easier to sleep at night.

And for us to leave the penthouse together for more than just mission related shit or work.

She’ll like that.

Hell, she might even love it.

But with the way she’s currently sneering at Lila every chance she gets, popular bars downtown will probably be in our best interest to avoid in the future.

Or maybe just forever.

I kind of like the sound of forever.

“All booking fees were paid promptly by the label.”

Good to know the numbers aren’t dragging their feet on this shit.

Watching Arley roll her hips with a little more ease and confidence is attached to asking another question. “And the client who hired you for the latest gig?”

McPherson prepares to answer when a group of loud, giggling females wedge themselves next to him both distracting and delighting him.

I give him a moment to enjoy checking out their asses and exchange “come fuck me” expressions with a couple – primarily to maintain the casual cover we’re using as randomly running into him at the bar – before clearing my throat to regain his focus. “The client?”

“No go.” He chugs back a mouthful. “Some third-party company.”

He’s presented with a quirked eyebrow. “Was it The Agama Foundation?”

“No, The Seps Institution.”

The bit of relief that just graced me with its presence instantly dissipates.

Fucking,really?

How many companies are out to kill the love of my life?

And why?

“Getting you a merch sample took some major persuading, but it’s done.” McPherson sends his stare up to the blonde beside him while turning to face her in the stool. “You thirsty, gorgeous?”

She smiles wide, adjusts the pink cowboy hat on her head, and leans forward to give him a great shot of her tits. Instead of being irked – like someone would expect – I merely wait until he puts his beer down to give her more of his attention. When that particular execution occurs, I count to four, turn in my seat to put my own half empty bottle down beside his – snaking the cleverly hidden thumb drive in the process – and loudly proclaim, “Gonna grab my girlfriend and head out.” Patting him forcefully twice on the shoulder informs him that I have the object in my possession. “Have a good time!”

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