“Your chariot awaits, baby,” he says, his tone low and sinful. Oh, what a fine gentleman you’re pretending to be. I sneer at him as I slide in, refusing to be embarrassed. The door slams shut, and the smell of Zade envelops me. Leather, spice, and a hint of smoke. The entire interior of the car is black, buttery soft leather. But what renders me speechless are the gadgets decorating his car. There are so many switches, screens —a laptop?—and so on that I don’t even know what the hell I’m looking at. When he slides into his seat and lurches the car forward, I shrink against the door. We descend into a stilted silence. It’s not awkward necessarily, but it’s tense. Charged. The sexual tension in the car has fingers trailing along my flesh and raising the goosebumps on my skin like zombies from their graves. What happened outside felt like a prelude to something I’m not sure I'll survive. I’m breathing in the static air, and it feels like with every inhale, I’m pulling apart articles of clothing fresh from the dryer. “How far away is it?” I ask, my voice hoarse and rough. My throat is going to be sore for days. He glances at me, his hand tightening around the wheel. I never knew the act of driving a vehicle could look so pornographic until now. “Twenty minutes if traffic behaves.” “T think now would be a great time to explain what this whole thing is about. What do you even do for a living?” I question, the conversation with Daya still fresh in my mind. “T hack into government and military databases and expose crimes against humanity. I also take things a bit more personal and infiltrate the lives of officials who have proven themselves corrupt or evil.” My mouth opens, but no sound escapes. Oh, fuck. “You're Z.” The smile widens. “You finally figured it out. Daya tell you that?” My eyes bulge. “You know her?” I ask incredulously. He shrugs a shoulder. “She’s one of hundreds who work in my organization,” he explains simply. “I don’t know her personally. And I’ve certainly never met or talked to her. But I know everybody that works for me.” I shake my head, dumbfounded. “You’re her boss?” “T guess you could say that. I started my organization from the ground up, and once it got big enough, I took plenty of people on. They have their objectives and the people they report to. But we all have the same goal.” “Which is?” I press. “Bring the girls home.”