in each other's arms. "You don't need to go back. You've stolen the car. We should run. My clients tell me there are still wilderness areas. We could get lost in one of those. No one would ever find us there. No one would. They wouldn't even look. Too expensive for two models near the end of their cycle."
"They get a lot of money from the to-do in Dallas," he said. He pulled gently away from me and sat at the edge of the bed, putting his shirt and pants on. "Lots of nuts get to dress up and reenact it all—to be assassins and policemen. I read about it. I cracked their system. The other one, the younger one of me is ready to leave the crèche."
He put his cuff links on. Cuff links. I'd only seen them in vids before. But for some reason, those little pieces of jewelry look incredibly sexy, very masculine. The embodiment of a by-gone era. He snapped them on, without looking, like he did that every day.
He probably did.
"Besides," he said. "The sensor I rigged will tell them if I'm gone after dawn. I couldn't rig it that far. They know my proclivities, and they work around them.