wasn’t it.”
“Oh, now I’m intrigued. Ask away.”
“Why did you hire a personal assistant?”
Swinging his feet around, he hopped off the couch and walked to the mini fridge on the other side of the door. The guy was like the Roadrunner on crack. Up. Down. Here. There. “That’s not what you wanna know,” he said, opening the fridge.
“It’s not?”
He pulled out two cans, popped the cap on the first, and tossed it back, then threw the second to me. “You wanna know what happened to the previous assistants. I’d bet my big ones Nader told you to head for the hills, right?”
“Pretty much.” I pulled up on the tab and took a swig without looking—and almost snarfed the liquid all over myself. “Is this beer ?”
Wentz looked at me like I’d grown a pair of plump ones. “Yes?”
“It’s nine in the morning!”
He took another long pull from his can and shrugged. “Nah. It’s after ten. And we’re bonding here. It’s part of the experience. Humor me, man.”
He started pacing, and even though I itched to get my hands on the formula, a part of me was curious about what was going on here. “So, yeah. Nader? He’s a good guy, and he’s got my best interests in mind and all that fluffy crap, but if it were up to him, I’d stay locked in a room with no windows and steel walls ninety percent of the time. He’s been working for my father since he was in his teens, and he’s made it his life’s goal to keep me all safe and sound. Snug as a bug in a fortified rug, ya know what I’m saying? The dude makes it impossible to get a date. He does background checks on everyone.”
“Well, then that leads to the other question…”
He downed the rest of his beer and slam dunked the can into the garbage pail. “Why has Nader stayed at Dromere for so long? You know, I keep asking myself that same question. It’s not for the pay, that’s for sure. I keep denying him a raise in hopes he’ll move along.”
I rolled my eyes. “The grenade. Tossing an explosive through someone’s window is kind of hardcore. Someone out there isn’t your fan.”
“There are some people that aren’t happy with Dromere. My dad was a good guy, but not particularly an animal lover. It leaked out that Dromere used to do animal testing.” He held out his hands and waved them up and down. “We don’t anymore. I love animals. Well, I mean I don’t lurrrve them—if you know what I mean—but Rover and Fifi have no place in science. I even have a fish!”
“Ooookay.”
“Animal rights people can be pretty hardcore. I’ve been dodging bullets—some figuratively and some not so much. We’re trying to prove we don’t test on animals anymore, but it’s slow going.” He tapped his chin and tilted his head in my direction. “Do you think I should have publicity photos taken? Maybe with the fish?”
“Um—”
“You’re right,” he rushed on. “That’s ridiculous. The fish would never sit still long enough to take a good picture.”
I liked Wentz and had no intention of hurting him—or his company—but I needed that formula and we were wasting time. First, a test run. With a deep breath, I looked into his eyes, channeled everything that was Cain, and said, “Give me a piece of licorice.”
He threw me an offhanded wave and plopped into his chair. “No way, man. I’m generous, but no one touches the sweet sticks. Sorry.”
I sighed. Obviously the working details of Cain’s ability were going to be a problem—one I’d need to remedy. Fast. In the meantime, maybe I could find the formula another way. With what my father would call regroup and snoop. “So what will I be doing for you?”
His expression turned serious. “Very, very important things, Doug.” With a nod toward the corner, he asked, “How do you feel about air hockey?”
Chapter Six
Anderson wasn’t happy with me. He’d really expected me to walk in, demand the formula, and walk back out. After explaining I’d been unable to
“Oh, now I’m intrigued. Ask away.”
“Why did you hire a personal assistant?”
Swinging his feet around, he hopped off the couch and walked to the mini fridge on the other side of the door. The guy was like the Roadrunner on crack. Up. Down. Here. There. “That’s not what you wanna know,” he said, opening the fridge.
“It’s not?”
He pulled out two cans, popped the cap on the first, and tossed it back, then threw the second to me. “You wanna know what happened to the previous assistants. I’d bet my big ones Nader told you to head for the hills, right?”
“Pretty much.” I pulled up on the tab and took a swig without looking—and almost snarfed the liquid all over myself. “Is this beer ?”
Wentz looked at me like I’d grown a pair of plump ones. “Yes?”
“It’s nine in the morning!”
He took another long pull from his can and shrugged. “Nah. It’s after ten. And we’re bonding here. It’s part of the experience. Humor me, man.”
He started pacing, and even though I itched to get my hands on the formula, a part of me was curious about what was going on here. “So, yeah. Nader? He’s a good guy, and he’s got my best interests in mind and all that fluffy crap, but if it were up to him, I’d stay locked in a room with no windows and steel walls ninety percent of the time. He’s been working for my father since he was in his teens, and he’s made it his life’s goal to keep me all safe and sound. Snug as a bug in a fortified rug, ya know what I’m saying? The dude makes it impossible to get a date. He does background checks on everyone.”
“Well, then that leads to the other question…”
He downed the rest of his beer and slam dunked the can into the garbage pail. “Why has Nader stayed at Dromere for so long? You know, I keep asking myself that same question. It’s not for the pay, that’s for sure. I keep denying him a raise in hopes he’ll move along.”
I rolled my eyes. “The grenade. Tossing an explosive through someone’s window is kind of hardcore. Someone out there isn’t your fan.”
“There are some people that aren’t happy with Dromere. My dad was a good guy, but not particularly an animal lover. It leaked out that Dromere used to do animal testing.” He held out his hands and waved them up and down. “We don’t anymore. I love animals. Well, I mean I don’t lurrrve them—if you know what I mean—but Rover and Fifi have no place in science. I even have a fish!”
“Ooookay.”
“Animal rights people can be pretty hardcore. I’ve been dodging bullets—some figuratively and some not so much. We’re trying to prove we don’t test on animals anymore, but it’s slow going.” He tapped his chin and tilted his head in my direction. “Do you think I should have publicity photos taken? Maybe with the fish?”
“Um—”
“You’re right,” he rushed on. “That’s ridiculous. The fish would never sit still long enough to take a good picture.”
I liked Wentz and had no intention of hurting him—or his company—but I needed that formula and we were wasting time. First, a test run. With a deep breath, I looked into his eyes, channeled everything that was Cain, and said, “Give me a piece of licorice.”
He threw me an offhanded wave and plopped into his chair. “No way, man. I’m generous, but no one touches the sweet sticks. Sorry.”
I sighed. Obviously the working details of Cain’s ability were going to be a problem—one I’d need to remedy. Fast. In the meantime, maybe I could find the formula another way. With what my father would call regroup and snoop. “So what will I be doing for you?”
His expression turned serious. “Very, very important things, Doug.” With a nod toward the corner, he asked, “How do you feel about air hockey?”
Chapter Six
Anderson wasn’t happy with me. He’d really expected me to walk in, demand the formula, and walk back out. After explaining I’d been unable to
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