Hyper Lynx (The Lynx Series Book 6) Fiona Quinn (the dot read aloud .txt) 📖

beget spinoffs. Power is already there for siphoning. In the case of fanfiction, I don’t have an opinion. I’m using it as a metaphor. Like, if I have an established campfire, and you want a fire of your own. Over you come, taking a burning log from mine to start your own. Now we both have a fire, though mine might suffer from losing some fuel. And as I say that, I can see that my metaphor got away from me. It’s been happening all day. Ideas are clear to me, but when I try to explain them…I’m tired. I want to stop thinking for today.”

“We’re almost home, Chica. A hot bath, some cuddle time on the sofa, early to bed.”

“Agreed. Now, in this case, we have a secret society, we add in a criminal genius mind, and I’m assuming that this somehow has a terror component that they didn’t reveal to me. I’m not part of that piece. I’m working on the piece that tries to find out how to hook Destiny into being a resource.”

“Puzzles.”

“Yes, indeedy.”

“Did they say when you’re to start?”

“I told you this. I start at the diner tomorrow.”

“Undercover.”

“Yes.”

He was chewing on the inside of his cheek. Displeased. “For how long?”

“As long as it takes, I guess. Hopefully not long. A lot of that depends on how well I do figuring this out. Interesting point, though…” I waited for him to finish his turn into my neighborhood.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Finley asked if I was going to be at the party for Gator and Christen on Thursday night.”

“How would he know about that?” Striker aligned his car with Kate’s, put on his blinker, and draped his arm across the back of the seat.

“Good question.”

There was a moment of silence while Striker backed into place and cut the engine. “Why would he care?”

“Also, a good question.”

“Did you ask?”

“It wasn’t a good time. Too many ears.”

“What did your spidey senses tell you?”

“Felt like tightrope walking. I think since they’re keeping a watch on the Assembly and this party is on their radar. Since all roads lead to Rome, I'm guessing that this case I’m working on for Spider and the FBI also includes the Assembly. Maybe a guest will be there who might run into me as I’m working on the case. Finley might have been afraid I’d blow my cover. I’m sure, as we’re getting closer to next Thursday’s party that he’ll take me aside and tell me the issues if he thinks I’m going to blow the op.”

“Huh.”

“Or, maybe he thought some Assemblyman would have a dagger out for me.”

“The Assembly doesn’t know your role in taking them down.”

“No. They’re not supposed to, anyway. But the Assembly permeated every aspect of the political and economic power grid in America. I think my role is secret. Spyder and I worked under the radar as we brought them down. Indigo’s death happened when they’d have no way to identify my role. And all of the records were burned when Omega torched their own headquarters. Some minion along the way…” I glanced around the empty street. I didn’t even like bringing it up here in the car.

“Are you thinking of someone in particular?”

“No.”

“What about that guy that came to your father’s funeral.”

I slid a hand down first one arm, then the next as if I was scraping off a film that had settled on my skin. “I don’t know. He and Spyder had some symbiosis at the funeral. They communicated with a glance. They were teamed up to help get mom to the car when her wheelchair mired in the mud. At that point, Spyder was fine with him. Today, Seth Toone was confused when he saw me. He didn’t know mom had died. If he was paying attention to my parents or me, he would have known.”

Double whammy: My parents crowded forward. Pay attention!

And at the same time, I heard a knowing blare, “Take the keys and lock her up, my fair lady.”

Chapter Twenty

When I opened the fridge, dinner fell on the floor.

I balled my fists and growled my frustration.

“Lexi, sit.” Striker said, all calm and shit. “Let me handle this.”

“I’ve got it,” I spat out.

“Do you need me to remind you, you aren’t a superhero?”

“I’m very clear on my human frailty, thanks, Striker.” I grabbed up the broom and dustpan to scoop the remains of my casserole.

“Not even close to my point. I was going to say that it’s been a hell of a day, and I’d like to help you relax. And, Dr. Carlon said that you have to get a good night’s sleep. The alarm is going to be sounding way too early for your liking. Why you accepted that crazy schedule—”

“I took the schedule that the quitting waitress already had on the books.” I dumped the food into the trash and moved to the sink to get a rag and wipe up the last of it. “I love you,” I said past the blast of water. “I appreciate you. You know that, right?”

“We take care of each other. The appreciation is mutual. Now, shall I call for some pizza?”

I pulled my hairband from a hook by the soap dispenser, bent back, gathered my hair up into a loose bun, then moved toward the spill.

Striker took the rag from my hand and pointed to a chair. I sat gratefully while he sopped up the mess. “I could make breakfast for dinner,” I suggested. “Do you want eggs?”

“I’m fine with a bowl of cereal. I’d rather you sit.” Striker finished up, tossing the cloth in the pail to go down to the washing machine. “Sometimes, you find solace in cooking. If that’s the case here, then make whatever you want. If this is a