Trapezoid (The Base)

Chapter 23

The corner of Hopper's lips spread into a one-sided smile. "Well, I'm here."

Levi grunted in reply. Her British accent was stunning—perfect. She wasn't Hopper but someone else. Hopper would never gaze into his eyes with a mesmerized glow. She was playing her part so well—so far. "You're here on a bike?" He leaned his side against the pole, limiting him to a couple of inches from her.

As if some of the true Hopper was emerging, she narrowed her eyes at him with distain, looking him up and down. "My place of employment is only a couple of miles away." She averted her eyes to look at some fascinating empty bench. "Besides, my employer didn't want me using the car."

Levi felt something tighten inside him as that string of words left her lips. He knew who she worked for—the Greenwoods. Hopper in the Greenwood estate was the perfect recipe for disaster. How did he know? Even with her blank emotions, Levi had gotten the impression that D. Smith wasn't confident in the woman before him. But that was not what bothered him the most. One thing he'd learned about Hopper the day in the target house was that she was headstrong. A locked door was just something to be opened. She'd look for a way to prove herself and get herself killed—or succeed. Then the whole reason for him being here was in vain.

She was a threat. There was no way they were going to be able to work together. He didn't want to work with her. He wanted to ride solo—the best way he did things these days. He loved plunging head first into danger, cursing the consequences. The feeling of blood rushing through his veins was his greatest reward. And it worked. The ending of Vance Hide was evidence. Less than one month was left until whatever Greenwood had planned would come into effect. He wanted to stop it.

Her mask hopelessly falling, she locked her darkening eyes into his icy deep blue orbs. "I didn't come all the way out here just to stand, letting you bore your eyes into me," she hissed. "I've got plenty of work to do tonight, Mr. Stevens."

He raised his brow at the confidence in her voice. He smirked down at her. "It's Joey Grey, baby."

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Chris pretended not to have heard the nerve-grating endearment used as slang—but unwilling to let him feel like he'd gotten the best of her, she stuck her hand out. "Kristal Thompson," she said, a forced smile pasted on her face. To her own dismay, she really liked his solid handshake. The way his black leather jacket sculpted out his broad shoulders, his strong neck and perfect chiseled features, she had nothing against them. She turned her gaze to the sunset, a weird feeling in her chest.

"So how's Hopper doing?"

She actually genuinely chuckled at his question. "Really well, I think. Tonight will have to prove it."

She sensed hard feelings emitting from him, and wondered at the reason for them. He leaned his head closer, his voice lowering in volume. She saw the hot coals glowing in his eyes. "Oh? What's she got planned?"

She shrugged. "Oh, she's going to accompany Kristal setting up traps for mammal vermin."

He cocked his head to the side and nodded. "You mean the guy in dreadlocks you hang with?"

Chris felt shame and disgust rise in her chest at what this guy had said. "Thomas is not vermin!" she hissed, appalled.

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Levi's chest tightened, hearing Hopper defend the guy he was certain was just about as much slime as his brother. "Don't tell me you actually trust the guy."