Wicked Torture (Stark World 3)

He hadn't realized how much he'd feared looking paranoid until she spoke, and her words confirmed he wasn't overreacting. "I don't know, but if I see it again, I'll let Stark know."

She nodded approval. "Good. Oh, and check this out." She got up and went to her desk, practically dancing her way back to hand him the most recent copy of X-Tech, a prestigious trade publication that focused on tech and security. He knew the team had been targeting them to run a feature on Red Brick, and the way she was doing a combination happy dance and victory march, told him they'd gotten the interview.

Even better, it made him laugh.

"Don't you dare tease me," she said, circling her desk as she did a couple of fist pumps. "I worked my ass off lining that up." She danced her way back to him again, and this time, he grabbed her hand and tugged her down to the couch.

"Spoilsport," she teased, but she was smiling. And she hadn't let go of his hand.

She met his eyes, and he heard her sharp, shuddering breath before she gently tugged her hand away, then reached for her coffee and held her mug in both hands, as if she wanted to stop herself from reaching for him again.

"I'm going to a housewarming party on Sunday," he said, the words coming unplanned. "You should join me."

"I should? Why's that?"

She wasn't looking at him, but he could hear the tease in her voice. But he wasn't teasing when he answered. "Because I want you to."

She turned to him, her eyes wide with surprise, her freckles showing up a little more against her flushed cheeks. "Oh." She licked her lips, and it wasn't until the slow smile spread across her face that he realized he'd been holding his breath. "In that case, I'd love to."

"Ares grew up in this neighborhood," Kiki said on Sunday as they drove north on Chicon Street in East Austin. "I came with him a few times in college to see his parents. It's changed a lot. They lived over that way, by the cemetery." She pointed vaguely to the left, back toward downtown. "We used to walk through it and have long talks about the meaning of life."

Noah hadn't grown up in Austin, but he was familiar with the city's efforts to revitalize the historically lower-income area east of the Interstate. Over a decade ago, a lot of young professionals had started buying up the houses to either tear down or renovate, and as the smaller bungalows were replaced with modern, urban dwellings, more businesses moved in to service the newer, moneyed residents. The problem, of course, was that the long-time residents ended up priced out of their homes, unable to afford the increase in property taxes that came with the new, shinier East Austin.

"It's hard," Kiki agreed when he said as much. "After Ares' father died, his mom couldn't afford the taxes. She sold it for a decent amount, but not enough to buy another place in Austin. She's renting now in Dallas near his sister." She shrugged. "But there are upsides, too. The restaurants, the cleanup. Crime is down. But it makes me sad that people who lived here for generations can't hang onto their homes."

She sighed wistfully. "Ares was just starting to perform when we were in college, and he'd sing for his cousins at his house. I'd come along and sing backup or whatever he needed. And his mom would stuff us full of tamales. It was heaven."

"The tamales or the singing?" he asked, as his car's navigation system ordered him to make a left.

"Both. But mostly the singing."

He made the turn, then took his eyes off the road long enough to note the way she was still smiling at the memory. "I was thinking about what you said the other day," he said. "About you considering backing off from Pink Chameleon."

"You think I should," she guessed. "I have a good thing going with Crown Consulting, and I need to be a grown-up about my life and career."

"Actually, I was going to say that you need to go for it. You've always wanted to sing, and you should grab what you want when you can."

It struck him that he wasn't following his own advice. He wanted Kiki, but he sure as hell hadn't grabbed her.

Except that wasn't the same at all. He was keeping his distance because that's what she wanted. He was respecting her boundaries.

But maybe now it was time to start chipping away . . .

"It's scary," she said, her words unintentionally tracking his thoughts. "I'm so much older now, and I don't know if our music is even relevant, and touring doesn't sound nearly as cool as it used to. But at the same time, I want to sing. I want to perform. And I don't want to wake up and be angry with myself for not trying."

"Which is exactly what I just said."

She laughed. "Yeah. I guess it is. You know, this is the second time you've encouraged me to dive into Pink Chameleon."

"I was just a sounding board the other day," he protested.

"No, I mean now, and back when we lived in Los Angeles."

"Oh." He forced his body to relax. "Sorry if I brought up bad memories."

"No," she said quickly, then gently touched his arm. "No, I didn't mean it that way. Actually, I like it. It's nice having someone watch my back again. Gives me a reality check."

"What are friends for?" he asked as the car announced that they'd arrived at their destination, a pale blue bungalow that was probably built in the thirties, and looked as if it had been recently refurbished.