"I won't be in the way," I press him. "Really, I think you'll benefit from having me along."
"Yeah?" He still doesn't sound interested. "How's that?"
I only have one shot at this. I inhale a deep breath. "Because," I respond, "you'll benefit from me not telling anyone that Silicon Valley's vanished billionaire, Flynn Carter, is still alive."
It's the exact reaction I was hoping for. Flint goes as still as a stone statue before my eyes, his mug of coffee half-raised to his lips and hanging there as if he has completely forgotten he was in the process of drinking it. Eyes as black as summer storms snap up to me, but I hold my ground. I don't let the satisfaction at his response show on my face; I keep my expression carefully neutral, and bend over, perfectly calmly, to retrieve my dropped banana.
"What the hell did you just say to me?" His tone matches his eyes. It crackles with the threat of the thunder to follow, but I take this as more proof that I'm right in my guess.
"I knew I'd seen you somewhere before," I reply offhand. I take a minute more to dust off my banana, relishing leaving him in suspense, before I finally lift the magazine up off my lap and pass it over the table to him. He rips it from my hand, sloshing coffee on the table in the process. He stares in horror at the cover story as I continue eating breakfast and pretend to be completely unaware of this sudden, violent shift in his demeanor. "You're Flynn Carter. Not Flint. You're the founder and former CEO of Green Star. What was it you guys invested in?" I point my banana at him, inviting him to give me the company pitch in his own words. "Clean energy?" I offer.
"Don't be absurd." His voice sounds tight, and he grits the insult out between clenched teeth, but he appears too paralyzed by my discovery to deny my claims.
"Oh, I don't think it's absurd at all!" I exclaim innocently. "Without the leather jacket and the stubble, you're a dead-ringer for that guy in the photo. Obviously, you're older now. I remember it was all over the news when you were declared missing, and then dead. But it's curious how they never found the body." I'm all done with my breakfast now. I set the banana peel aside and lace my hands demurely in front of me, batting my eyes all the while. Maybe I'm laying it on a little thick, but I'm wickedly enjoying myself. "I think a lot of people would be interested to know that you're still around. Don't you?"
"You're not seriously trying to blackmail me into hitching a ride?" Flint growls. His question acts as an inadvertent answer to my own. I rise from my chair and shoulder the strap of my duffle bag, smiling sweetly from ear to ear.
"Of course, I might be too occupied with traveling in my immediate future to bother with contacting anyone in the press," I amend kindly.
Flint stays seated. I see that the hand wrapped around his mug is gripping it so hard, I'm surprised the porcelain doesn't shatter into a million shards. His hands shakes with fury, and more of the coffee sloshes out the top; he's lucky he's wearing gloves; otherwise, I'm certain he would have burned himself. I'm less certain that he would have noticed.
He rises suddenly from his chair and strides back out the front door. I make to follow after him quickly, before returning at the last second to snatch up the discarded magazine and jam a muffin into my mouth. I'm out of time to repack my bag.
It appears my billion-dollar ride is leaving.
CHAPTER 6
FLINT
And to think I wanted to sleep with this woman.
No, not woman. Witch. Gorgon. I'm not sure there are enough mythological monsters to cycle through to put a name to her, but I'll be damned if I don't try.
It takes every ounce of my self-control to not curse out loud to myself as I stomp toward the Sportster. I can hear a much lighter pair of feet following quickly behind me. Once I arrive at my parking space, I turn to round on Ana. I'm not as surprised as she is when she crashes headfirst into my chest.
"You really want to do this?" I ask her menacingly. I loom over her as she takes a startled step back. I might still stand a chance of scaring her off if I turn my darker persona up to eleven. "You want to blackmail a man who is worth billions into giving you a ride? You don't even know where I'm going. And rest assured, I'm not about to adjust my course to accommodate some redheaded tease I met at a bar who thinks she's clever because she pays attention to the news."
Ana doesn't rise to my bait, not this time. She knows she has me in a corner, and she's milking my alarm and discomfort at being found out for all it's worth. She pushes her scarlet hair back from her face and beams up at me as if there is nothing at all left to be found threatening in her circumstances. If anything, the secret of my identity should make her more intimidated, not less. Then again, I remember how she first spoke to me back at the bar: cordial, yet comfortable. I realize there was probably never any hope of her truly being afraid of me.
"I don't expect you to change course for me. I never had a destination in mind," she points out. "This is perfect, actually. I'll join you on your mission! You'll just have to remind me what that is again."
"Out of the question," I intone. I turn to throw my leg over the bike, not pausing to assist or even watch over her as she scrambles up clumsily behind me. If she hadn't been so quick on the draw, I might have torn out of this parking lot and left her in a suffocating plume of exhaust as my last parting gift. I grit my teeth as she wraps her arms securely around my midriff; she is more familiar with the arrangement this time, and my body betrays me by thrilling at the invasion of her touch. Just like yesterday, I feel the heat start to pool in my belly. She may have transformed into a manipulative monster by morning's light, but that doesn't I mean I want her any less. If anything, the conquest that sex with this woman would give me seems all the more appealing now that we are enemies.
Evidently Ana hasn't gotten the memo. She pushes the helmet down over her head and draws herself up against me, almost hugging me rather than holding on out of necessity. She is really playing up this whole innocent angle, but she's obviously overdoing it. I clench my jaw and crank the accelerator, and we burn out of the parking lot together.
It's just my luck that she wants to keep talking. Once I pull out onto the main highway, I find that the speed limit is an inexplicable forty; traffic isn't heavy, but it's enough that I feel compelled to abide by the law, at least for now. As much as I'm quietly smoldering with anger at my situation, I'm not the type to purposefully endanger a passenger just because I want her to bail off the back out of fear.
"So you're Flynn Carter," she muses close to my ear. "I like the name change, personally. Flint suits you better. This whole bad boy biker image is doing great things for you, actually." She attempts to disengage one hand and indicate my appearance, but I snatch it before she can complete the gesture and slam it back down against my stomach.
"It's not an image," I snarl. "It's who I am now. There's nothing purposeful or manufactured about what I've become."
"Don't you mean 'who'?" Ana sounds puzzles by my terminology, but I don't respond. "Why did you disappear, anyway? Did you just get tired of it all?"