Page 82 of Road Queens
Sidney’s eyebrows arched. “So are all your cases pro bono, or did you make an exception for us?”
“The latter. I promised myself I’d help you if I ever got the chance. I don’t give a shit about the money.”
“Huh. Okay. But like Amanda said, everything’s moot.”
“Not everything,” she corrected.
“OpStar’s done, and we’ve got no leads. We’re leadless.”
Beane cleared his throat. “We have a lead.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“So we’re not gonna talk about the kiss?!?”
“We are not.”
“Not even a little?!?”
“Not even a smidge.”
“Because it was incredible!”
“I’m aware. And you don’t have to shout.” Amanda put on her turn signal, then eased into the curve and left the highway. “Do you not understand how helmet mics work?”
Beane tightened his grip on her waist. “I know you’re being sarcastic, but until this minute, I forgot about the mic.”
“Hopeless. I don’t even know why we’re letting you tag along.” A lie; she wanted him there. And she loved how he didn’t hesitate to ask for another ride. It was stupid, especially for the twenty-first century, but there were plenty of men who didn’t want to ride niche. (Years ago, the three of them decided “ride bitch” was unacceptable, so out came the rhyming dictionary. Not that “bitch” and “niche” rhymed. Close enough, though.) “Especially after the malarky at the morgue.”
“Sorry,” he said, because he had to be lying too. “I was only ninety-five percent sure—”
“Only?”
“—you guys didn’t have guilty knowledge at that point. The percentage is much higher now.”
“How much higher? Ninety-seven percent? Ninety-nine percent?”
“And you have to admit, even though I’m an ex, I lend some authority to your investigation.”
“Oh my God, you did not just talk about ‘lending authority.’ And it’s not an investigation. It’s ... it’s sightseeing with questions.”
He laughed so hard he almost slipped off the bike, which set off her own giggles. “Behave, you gorgeous dumbass! You’re not dressed for a get-off.”
“Wait, who’s getting off?”
“Haul your feeble brain out of the gutter, please. ‘Get-off’ is slang for a minor crash.”
“Oh. Because you ‘get off’ the bike.”
“Clever man, you’ve cracked the code.” They were approaching a stoplight, so Amanda rolled off the throttle, applied the brakes, and downshifted. “I’ve got no business letting you climb on. I’ve never ignored ‘All the Gear, All the Time’ in my life, but I’m breaking that rule because you’re a good kisser. And also to help Cass clear her name. On the off chance it needs clearing. Which we’ve established it may not. Oh, good, the light’s about to turn green; let’s just ride in silence for the last mile, okay?”
“Or we could kiss again. You’ve got a few more seconds.”
Absurdly tempting. Especially given how Sean was snuggled up behind her with his goddamned distracting aftershave and deliciously deep voice.
“Please shut up now.”
“Impossible. I’m still wrestling with the knowledge that you think I’m a gorgeous good kisser.”
