Outtake: Lunch
The beige
sedan showed up on their tail soon after they left kidTek’s parking building.
Given the light traffic, it was able to maintain a larger separation on the
highway, but Lantis was fairly certain it was the same one that followed them
from his office. Pondering its presence, a garishly colored billboard caught
his eye.
“Pull in
at the Dimsum Darling,” he directed, pointing at the sign. The restaurant was
supposedly located off the next exit.
“Why?”
Kiera asked, even as she slowed down and shifted lanes.
“For one,
we haven’t had lunch yet,” Lantis replied, keeping an eye on the sedan. Sure
enough, it followed them off the highway, as steady as a well-trained dog.
At the
mention of lunch, Kiera’s stomach rumbled loudly. “And for another?” she
prompted, pink-cheeked.
“That
beige car behind the van seems to be following us. I want to see if it really
is.” He flipped up the visor, no longer needing its mirror. “Might as well kill
two birds with one stone.”
Lantis
chose a table by the window, judging it safe enough, given the distance being
maintained by the surveillance detail. He left the choice of food to Kiera, his
time with black ops having taught him not to be picky.
Left to
her own devices, Kiera ordered a little of everything — or so it appeared.
Cashew chicken. Sweet and sour pork. Beef with broccoli. General Tso’s chicken.
Moo goo gai pan. Birds’ nest soup. Spring rolls. Almond jelly. A few others he
didn’t recognize offhand. He quashed the amusement welling up inside him. It was well past noon; Kiera had to be
famished.
He
wondered if the two sweltering in the beige sedan could see the spread on the
table. It would serve them right if they knew what a long wait they had ahead
of them.
Settling
a pair of chopsticks comfortably in his hand, Lantis picked up a quail egg
among several drizzled with dark brown sauce with blackish bits of pureed
something. The sweet-sour tang of tamarind burst over his taste buds, an
interesting contrast to the generally bland egg. He reached for another one as
hunger pangs woke in his stomach.
“You’re
quite handy with those,” Kiera observed, struggling with a cube of fried tofu
that sagged and split when she tried to lift it.
“Necessity.
It was learn or commit the ultimate faux pas,” he explained. When she raised
her brows inquiringly, he elaborated, “Eating with bare hands.”
She made
a moue of frustration as the mangled tofu resisted her efforts to pick it up.
“I though you’d say ‘spoon and fork’.”
“None
available.” He watched her labor a moment longer, then offered her a quail egg
between his chopsticks.
She
stared at it for a moment before transferring her questioning gaze to him.
“You look
famished.” He directed his offering toward her mouth.
She
accepted it daintily, her lips puckering suggestively.
He waited
for her reaction while she chewed contemplatively.
“Umm,”
she purred around a smile. “I worked up an appetite.”
As Lantis
turned to feed himself, she froze, her golden eyes wide, then covered her mouth
with one hand as her cheeks colored.
Kiera
glared at him. “Forget I said that.”
“Too
late. It’s etched in my memory.” He couldn’t prevent his lips from twitching at
her double entendre.
“That’s
not gentlemanly.” She frowned at him in reproof.
“I never
aspired to be one.” He chose a cube of tofu as a peace offering.
She
pouted playfully when the tofu accepted his handling. “Alright. So you’re an
expert.” She tried to take it from him with her chopsticks.
Amused by
her actions, Lantis avoided them easily, then returned to present the cube to
Kiera’s lips.
Frowning
at him, she took it in her mouth, shaking her head as she chewed. “You really
have to do something about this fetish of yours, you know.”
“Fetish?”
He selected a spring roll from the dishes between them.
“The way
you keep feeding me and taking care of me,” she explained absently, while she
fumbled with a piece of red sauce-covered chicken. Catching it in her mouth
just as it slipped from her chopsticks, her eyes lit with triumph.
He
clamped his mouth shut, stifling a laugh. She had a streak of independence a
mile wide that probably matched his.
“Product
of my upbringing.”
Kiera
paused with a dark green broccoli floret dangling between her chopsticks.
“Don’t tell me you fed your mother.”
“Alright.”
Lantis concentrated on eating for several minutes. From the swirls of suspicion
coming from Kiera, she was probably wondering if he was kidding her.
“Did you,
really?” she finally ventured, sounding intrigued.
“You told
me not to tell you,” he teased, stuffing his mouth with another spring roll to
hide his smile.
“Lan-tiiiis!”
She drew out his name in apparent exasperation, making a face at him.
He let
her wait while he ate some spicy chicken, enjoying the bite of hot pepper.
Kiera
folded her arms on the table, leaning toward him. “Well? Did you?”
He chose
a piece of cashew chicken and fed it to her.
Chewing
hurriedly, Kiera stabbed an index finger threateningly at him.
Lantis
suppressed a bubble of laughter that tried to escape. He quickly supplied her
with a spring roll as soon as she opened her mouth.
She
glared at him, fulminating, too mannerly to speak with her mouth full.
He used
the respite to take a few quick bites of his own.
“Lantis.”
A ladylike growl that nevertheless promised dire consequences.
He
allowed himself a brief smile. “Only if you consider making sandwiches
feeding.”
She toyed
with her chopsticks thoughtfully. “So you did feed her.”
“Eat,” he
ordered with a wave at the plenitude of dishes remaining.
“Why do
you keep pushing food at me?” she asked, but obediently turned to wrestle with
another piece of General Tso’s chicken. “And why did you make sandwiches?”
“Because
you have a vicious temper when you’re hungry.” He grinned, pointing a finger at
Kiera in illustration when her head came up with outraged swiftness. Gotcha.
The
irritation on her face abruptly cleared, leaving her staring at him fixedly,
her eyes rounded and startled. From the strength of her sudden arousal, Lantis
suspected that only the savory aroma of the food before them prevented him from
smelling her musk. What’s that about?
Fighting
his automatic reaction, he moved on to her second question. “My mother was a
sculptor. She supported us with her art and frequently forgot to eat. The least
I could do was make sandwiches.” He ignored a pang near his heart with
practiced ease. After all these years, he still missed her laughter. But being
unencumbered had been an advantage in the field.
“What
about your father?” Kiera accepted some sweet-and-sour pork from him, her mouth
closing over the morsel delicately.
Lantis
shrugged. “I don’t remember him. He was much older than my mother.” Having to
care for his mother made him independent at an early age. Growing up fatherless
taught him the advantages of superior firepower, both magical and conventional,
and the importance of a strong defense.
“How
about you?” He dunked a cube of tofu in ginger-laced sauce. “How did your
father convince a healer to run his company?” He chewed slowly, the crisp,
rough skin of the tofu contrasting nicely with the smooth, soft core, while he
waited for her answer.
“I’m not
a healer.” Kiera focused on the food with laser-like intensity, attacking the
dishes inexpertly, as if it were a matter of life-and-death.
Lantis
said nothing, letting his silence work for him.
“It was
never strong enough to justify training,” she finally added.
“But it’s
enough to make you uncomfortable around magic.”
She
blushed, probably remembering the nature of her discomfort. “Father did
everything he could to reduce the problem.”
He
motioned for her to continue, then started on his bowl of soup.
“You
noticed kidTek doesn’t use as much magic as most places?” At his nod, Kiera
continued with a reminiscent smile, “That’s because he based the design and
facilities on hospitals, which obviously cater to the needs of healers.”
Logical. He had never really considered the
special needs of healers. Given her heightened sensitivity, it made sense that
kidTek relied so much on electronic defenses, especially since Kiera had been
expected to follow in her father’s footsteps.
“So you
always knew you would take over from your father?” Lantis asked to draw out the
conversation. It was good to see her at her ease.
“Oh,
yes.” She raised her head to gaze at him soberly. “Someone had to carry on
supporting the troops.”
Inwardly,
his ears pricked. “What did your mother think?”
Her brow
furrowed with surprise. “I don’t really remember her saying one way or another.
She was killed by a terrorist bomb when I was ten.”
Lantis’
eyes darted toward the two men in the beige sedan still parked outside. That
was a line of investigation he hadn’t considered. He made a note to discuss it
with Dillon.
Conversation
languished while they focused on dessert, the almond jelly and chilled lychees
refreshing to the palate.
More than an hour after they turned off at the Dimsum Darling, the sedan trailed them
back on to the highway. Lantis could practically feel Kiera’s tension return,
rising with every mile. Huh? No
“practically” about it. The roiling energy made his nerves twinge.
“So they are following us. Are they the same guys
as before?”
Lantis
shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. If not, they’re probably on the same team.”
“What
now?”
“Whatever
they’re planning, I think it’s best if we have that discussion at your place.”
“Discussion?”
“Something
you should know.”
Her brows
lowered thoughtfully. “Can’t we have this ‘discussion’ at your office?”
Lantis
reached out to grip Kiera’s neck possessively. “Second thoughts?”
Her
lashes fluttered. “And third and fourth,” she admitted with a breathless laugh.
He huffed
in understanding. “This isn’t something for the office.” Releasing her with a
final caress, Lantis left Kiera to her thoughts.
Several stands of flowering dogwood further, Kiera
nodded. “Alright. We’ll talk at my condo.”
