Storm Shades by Olivia Stephens Page A

cell.
    Call me when you can. Have a few questions on those samples x
    Sofie takes another look down the microscope at the unremarkable stones that Ashton had given her. “What game are you playing?” she asks out loud, wondering why he would go to such lengths to stop them from drilling. What is it that he is trying to hide? she thinks.
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Sofie spends the remainder of the afternoon obsessively checking her cell, waiting for a reply from Jennie; but, by the time night has fallen, she still hasn’t heard from her. Her internal danger light now glows a pale yellow, still a ways off from serious life or death red, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up.
    “There’s no point in getting paranoid. It’s so Y2K.” Finn sounds bored, as he types in sequence after sequence of code on his laptop, doing what he does best.
    “But it’s weird. You don’t know Jennie; she’s super reliable. This isn’t like her.” Sofie lies on Finn’s bed trying to figure out why she can’t make that nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach go away.
    “Maybe she’s sick, maybe she’s busy, or maybe getting back to you isn’t top of her list of priorities.” Finn keeps his eyes glued to the screen, his fingers typing at a rate of knots.
    Absently Sofie takes a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the shirt that Ashton loaned her. “Did you just sniff that shirt?” Finn looks at her in disgust.
    Sofie looks more than embarrassed. “Maybe.” She cringes at herself, knowing how pathetic she must look, a world away from the confident young woman that she had always portrayed.
    “That’s it. We’re going out.” Finn closes the laptop hard.
    “Huh? But you haven’t finished!” Sofie sits bolt upright. “Besides, we have work tomorrow. There’s too much to do, and my head is in a million different places right now. I can’t go out.”
    “Which is precisely why you need to. You’re lying here, coming up with conspiracy theories, sniffing a shirt that some guy you barely know gave you and looking like a lovesick cat. You need to go out.” Finn looks at her seriously, like he’s diagnosing her with a terminal illness. “Besides, it’s Friday. It’s the rules.”
    “I think the expression is lovesick puppy .” Sofie latches onto the one part of Finn’s diagnosis that wasn’t correct.
    “Cat, puppy, whatever. You need to let off some steam, and I sure as hell need a drink. I’ll get Darwin, he could do with having some fun now that he’s sad and single.” Finn barely pauses for breath.
    “He’s not single; he’s getting a divorce. His marriage has broken down.” Sofie explains the difference to Finn, fully aware that the subtleties of human relationships are of very little importance to him.
    “Sounds like as good a reason as any to get drunk. I’m getting the boss. You go and change.” Finn looks pointedly at the shirt that she’s been hugging to herself. She doesn’t bother to argue—when Finn’s on a roll there’s no stopping him.
    “Meet you in the lobby in 15.” Sofie throws over her shoulder before heading back to her room. Maybe Finn was right, maybe a night out would be just what she needs. The three of them haven’t had any downtime in almost a month, and they’re probably all a little too tightly wound. By the time she’s changed and made her way to the motel entrance, she’s talked herself into having a good time.
    “Nice Sofe, very nice! I see you went for the Lara Croft look, it works for you.” Finn nods approvingly, looking like a proud dad.
    Sofie looks down at her shorts, white tank top, and desert boots, wondering if that was really the look she was going for. “Well I didn’t really bring anything party-appropriate,” she says acidly to Finn, who just grins at her.
    “I think you look very nice, Sofie.” Darwin smiles at her kindly and runs his fingers through his thinning hair, clearly with something on his mind.
    “Thanks boss.” Sofie