Free The Whole Truth (The Supercharged Files Book 1) by Jody Wallace

flinched and got the
hell out of her way.
    “What did she mean, not again?” I
asked John. Samantha didn’t seem the brawling type, but here she was, involved
in brawl number two. At a beer joint.
    John shook his head. “The ex and
the current.”
    “You’re not the current?”
     “Oh, no.” John held up a hand to
deflect the very idea. “Sam and I just work together.”
    “I assumed you were dating.”
    “I am not romantically involved
with Sam. I’m single.” He had no mask.
    “I am, too.” I smiled, and John
smiled back, the meaningful kind of smile where you don’t need suprasenses to
know what the other person is thinking.
    A guy who knew I could see lies,
who wouldn’t lie to me outright—would that be better or worse than the
relationship experience I was accustomed to?
    He was single, and I was
intrigued. Highly intrigued.
    The crowd dispersed. Interrupting
my intrigue, Samantha returned, the man in the suit at her heels. “I don’t like
him being here, and I don’t like him touching you,” the man was saying. He
worked his jaw with his hand, then straightened his tie. “He’s a useless drunk who
needs to be taught a lesson.”
    “He can’t hurt me. Leave him
alone, Alex. He’s got his own problems.”
    “Am I supposed to feel sorry for
the loser? It’s been a year. Arlin.” The man nodded at John.
    John returned the nod, noticeably
stiff. “Berkley.”
    Samantha sat beside me, but the
man remained standing, hovering over our table like a beer lamp. His attention
was on John, not Samantha and not me.
    I was thankful for that. I didn’t
like the look of him, Hollywood gloss and money with petulant wrinkles beside
his lips. I hoped he continued to ignore me.
    “How’s business at YuriCorp?” he
asked John. “Good, I hope?”
    Shadows fluttered around the
man’s face like a feathered Mardi-Gras mask. Sarcasm and double-speak. Seems
Alex didn’t wish his girlfriend’s company well.
    “Fine,” John said.
    “How’s your recent acquisition?”
    John glanced at me, blinked a few
times, and said, “Fine,” again.
    “You really don’t know, do you?
She’s right here, Alex.” Samantha leaned back in the booth and bobbed her head
at me. “Be nice. No prying.”
    The man focused on me intently.
“I almost didn’t see you sitting there. Wow.”
    I was not looking my best and was
hardly the type to elicit a wow from a guy like Alex. Compared to his squeeze,
I didn’t fare well. Both of us were short and female, true, but I had futzy
brown hair, a moon face, and the kind of body nice people refer to as curvy.
Samantha had sleek black hair, a striking countenance, and a slender figure
with sizeable breasts.
    Note to self—ask her if they were
real. Hee!
    The man stuck his hand across the
table, his pale eyes daring me to shake. “Alex Berkley. I’m with Psytech. I’ve
been anxious to meet you.”
    I didn’t take his hand. “Hello.”
    He raised his eyebrows in mock
surprise. “Have they been telling you tales about us, Miss Giancarlo?”
    “Is there something about Psytech
I should know?” I watched him like a cat watches another cat that may or may
not pounce. Had he been to, say, Chicago in the past two days? Had he practiced
sincerity like John, Al, Samantha and Yuri? He seemed to know what I could do,
or some version of it.
    “There’s a lot about Psytech you
should know. It’s best to consider all your options before you make a decision
that will impact your future.”
    “I agree.” I rested my chin on a
hand. “Isn’t it convenient you came here tonight? So, please. Tell me. What are
my options with Psytech?” I noticed John, across the table, watching me instead
of Alex, but he didn’t look worried. Slightly amused, in fact, amusement being
an alien expression on John’s face based on my twenty-four hours of
acquaintance with him.
    “First, you should know how much
more we’d pay you,” Alex said.
    Not a lie.
    “You should know how much bigger
our