“He never asked.”
“Would you have said yes?”
“Of course not.” I caressed my husband’s cheek. It was flattering that after all these years he was jealous. “He wasn’t you.”
Meanwhile, Quinton was saying, “…so he contacted the Company and offered to give us the specs and the working model—”
“Only Vincent turned up!” Gregor snarled.
“Who’s telling this?”
Gregor subsided.
“Thank you. At any rate, shots were fired as I was completing the transfer, and one of them hit my leg. And then there was Vincent, big as life and twice as intimidating—”
“Ugly, you mean,” Gregor growled.
“No, actually, he wasn’t that hard on the eyes. At any rate, when I snapped that I supposed I should thank him for aiming low, he gave me the most insane grin and said, ‘If I shoot, Mann, I shoot to kill.’”
“So he didn’t shoot you.” I hadn’t heard of Vincent before Buonfiglio mentioned his name; I’d look into him.
“If he’s to be trusted, no.”