Personal Demon
Page 38
Guy talked for a few more minutes, then adjourned the meeting. Jaz stared straight ahead, gaze blank, uncharacteristically thoughtful. Then he squeezed my hand and winked.
“I’ll fix this.”
I could have said it was hardly the end of the world if he missed tonight’s break-in. But it wouldn’t matter.
In some ways, Jaz was like a child—he wanted what he wanted, and he wanted it now. It sounded like immaturity, but there was no real selfishness behind it, nor any tantrums to be thrown when he didn’t get his way. Like last night. While he’d admitted to being frustrated, he’d waited until noon to call, in case I had a hangover, then had taken me out to lunch. With Jaz, “I want it and I want it now” seemed almost an…innocence. A purity of impulse.
As the meeting broke up, he rocked on his heels, a greyhound at the starting gate.
Guy looked up from a conversation with Bianca to call, “Jaz, Sonny, over here. Got an errand for you.”
Jaz leaned against me, hand brushing my rear. “Shit. That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
His fingers toyed with the hem of my miniskirt, eyes glittering, mouth coming down to mine, once again forgetting everything around us. A throat clearing from me stopped him.
“It’s your fault.” His gaze met mine, those sexy hooded eyes dark with desire. “If you were a witch, I’d think you’d cast a spell on me.”
Coming from anyone else, a corny pickup line. From Jaz, it made my heart skip. When he got close to me, the world vanished, lost in that swirl of his aura, that chaos vibe, and I suddenly knew where it came from—that childlike part of him that saw what it wanted, and grabbed for it, free of guilt and self-doubt.
I tilted my head back, lips parting as he—
“Jaz,” Guy barked. “Are you listening to me? Get down here.”
A flicker of anger, but it evaporated before I caught more than a spark. Propelling me forward, he headed toward Guy.
“Sorry, boss. I thought you were still talking to Bee. Got a job for us, you said.”
“For you and Sonny. I need Faith here.”
“Damn.” He turned to me. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m done. We’ll meet up for—”
“For nothing. This is work time, Jaz, not social time. You seem to be having some trouble distinguishing the two lately.”
Not an unwarranted accusation, but from the way Jaz stiffened, I could tell he didn’t like being reprimanded.
“We’re fine,” I said. “When you called, we had to leave lunch, so we’d planned to grab something to eat together later, but obviously that’s not going to work, which is understandable under the circumstances.”
“All right then. I’ll make sure you get fed before tonight, but a tête-à-tête is out of the question. This is going to be a delicate operation and I need you both on task. Completely on task.”
“We will be.”
“Good. Take five minutes, Faith, while Bianca and I talk to these guys, then I want you back here.”
“Yes, sir.”
I WAS COMING back from the restroom when I saw Jaz pacing outside Guy’s door.
“All done?” I said. “Then it must be my turn.”
He reached for me before I could pass. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to spirit you off into a corner. Guy’s already miffed, so I won’t make it worse. I just wanted to say…” He looked around, then pulled me closer. “I just wanted to say I’ll make it up to you.”
I grinned. “I’m counting on it.”
I expected him to grin back, but his face stayed serious, eyes meeting mine. “I mean it, Faith. I’ve screwed up, and I know that. Getting ahead of myself. I…do that a lot. I can’t help it. But when this is over, I’ll make it up to you.” He paused. “Ever heard of Nikki Beach?”
I shook my head.
“It’s a bar on a private beach with beds and teepees. When this is done, that’s where I’m taking you.
Dinner, dancing, relaxing on the beach, then off to the best damned hotel I can find. No more making out on a bar stool or a restaurant floor. I’m going to do it right. Make it special.”
I shivered, lifted onto my tiptoes and brushed my lips across his. “I can’t wait.”
HOPE: DILEMMA
Guy wanted to discuss the job. He and Bianca would be doing most of the searching, but as long as I was there, I would help, meaning I needed to know what they were looking for. So I thought I’d at least find out the target’s address, maybe his name.
Not a chance. Guy told me what I’d be looking for, and that was it. Even my reporter tricks didn’t get more out of him. He trusted his gang, but never liked to test that unnecessarily. He made the plans, and we carried out our end. To most, like Jaz, this was the perfect arrangement—minimal responsibilities for maximum reward. But it wasn’t terribly helpful when you were a spy, and the gang you’d just infiltrated was making plans to rob—and possibly torture—the employee of the man you worked for.
I had a responsibility to tell Benicio. Yet I had time to consider the matter on the cab ride to my apartment, and I began to wonder whether informing Benicio really was the obvious choice.
If, as I believed, Benicio hadn’t orchestrated the attack on Jaz and Sonny, then he’d have no idea who this employee might be. What if he overreacted? Did I want to see Jaz, Guy, Sonny and the others arrested and possibly tortured because of a rogue Cabal agent?
What if I was wrong about Benicio’s involvement? In that case, might he not set a trap for the gang and end up with the same outcome as scenario one: everyone taken into Cabal custody? The Cabals were known for torturing those who withheld information. It might not even get that far—an “accident” while taking them into custody would be a convenient way to get rid of an inconvenient problem.
If I feared the Cabal’s reaction, I should call Lucas. Yet if I did, with no proof that his father was about to do anything wrong, would I be crying wolf? Make matters worse?
What I really needed was a sounding board. Someone whose opinion I trusted, someone with no allegiance either way. As much as I hated to admit it, I wanted to talk to Karl. But at the thought of asking for his help, I shuddered.
“I’ll fix this.”
I could have said it was hardly the end of the world if he missed tonight’s break-in. But it wouldn’t matter.
In some ways, Jaz was like a child—he wanted what he wanted, and he wanted it now. It sounded like immaturity, but there was no real selfishness behind it, nor any tantrums to be thrown when he didn’t get his way. Like last night. While he’d admitted to being frustrated, he’d waited until noon to call, in case I had a hangover, then had taken me out to lunch. With Jaz, “I want it and I want it now” seemed almost an…innocence. A purity of impulse.
As the meeting broke up, he rocked on his heels, a greyhound at the starting gate.
Guy looked up from a conversation with Bianca to call, “Jaz, Sonny, over here. Got an errand for you.”
Jaz leaned against me, hand brushing my rear. “Shit. That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
His fingers toyed with the hem of my miniskirt, eyes glittering, mouth coming down to mine, once again forgetting everything around us. A throat clearing from me stopped him.
“It’s your fault.” His gaze met mine, those sexy hooded eyes dark with desire. “If you were a witch, I’d think you’d cast a spell on me.”
Coming from anyone else, a corny pickup line. From Jaz, it made my heart skip. When he got close to me, the world vanished, lost in that swirl of his aura, that chaos vibe, and I suddenly knew where it came from—that childlike part of him that saw what it wanted, and grabbed for it, free of guilt and self-doubt.
I tilted my head back, lips parting as he—
“Jaz,” Guy barked. “Are you listening to me? Get down here.”
A flicker of anger, but it evaporated before I caught more than a spark. Propelling me forward, he headed toward Guy.
“Sorry, boss. I thought you were still talking to Bee. Got a job for us, you said.”
“For you and Sonny. I need Faith here.”
“Damn.” He turned to me. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m done. We’ll meet up for—”
“For nothing. This is work time, Jaz, not social time. You seem to be having some trouble distinguishing the two lately.”
Not an unwarranted accusation, but from the way Jaz stiffened, I could tell he didn’t like being reprimanded.
“We’re fine,” I said. “When you called, we had to leave lunch, so we’d planned to grab something to eat together later, but obviously that’s not going to work, which is understandable under the circumstances.”
“All right then. I’ll make sure you get fed before tonight, but a tête-à-tête is out of the question. This is going to be a delicate operation and I need you both on task. Completely on task.”
“We will be.”
“Good. Take five minutes, Faith, while Bianca and I talk to these guys, then I want you back here.”
“Yes, sir.”
I WAS COMING back from the restroom when I saw Jaz pacing outside Guy’s door.
“All done?” I said. “Then it must be my turn.”
He reached for me before I could pass. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to spirit you off into a corner. Guy’s already miffed, so I won’t make it worse. I just wanted to say…” He looked around, then pulled me closer. “I just wanted to say I’ll make it up to you.”
I grinned. “I’m counting on it.”
I expected him to grin back, but his face stayed serious, eyes meeting mine. “I mean it, Faith. I’ve screwed up, and I know that. Getting ahead of myself. I…do that a lot. I can’t help it. But when this is over, I’ll make it up to you.” He paused. “Ever heard of Nikki Beach?”
I shook my head.
“It’s a bar on a private beach with beds and teepees. When this is done, that’s where I’m taking you.
Dinner, dancing, relaxing on the beach, then off to the best damned hotel I can find. No more making out on a bar stool or a restaurant floor. I’m going to do it right. Make it special.”
I shivered, lifted onto my tiptoes and brushed my lips across his. “I can’t wait.”
HOPE: DILEMMA
Guy wanted to discuss the job. He and Bianca would be doing most of the searching, but as long as I was there, I would help, meaning I needed to know what they were looking for. So I thought I’d at least find out the target’s address, maybe his name.
Not a chance. Guy told me what I’d be looking for, and that was it. Even my reporter tricks didn’t get more out of him. He trusted his gang, but never liked to test that unnecessarily. He made the plans, and we carried out our end. To most, like Jaz, this was the perfect arrangement—minimal responsibilities for maximum reward. But it wasn’t terribly helpful when you were a spy, and the gang you’d just infiltrated was making plans to rob—and possibly torture—the employee of the man you worked for.
I had a responsibility to tell Benicio. Yet I had time to consider the matter on the cab ride to my apartment, and I began to wonder whether informing Benicio really was the obvious choice.
If, as I believed, Benicio hadn’t orchestrated the attack on Jaz and Sonny, then he’d have no idea who this employee might be. What if he overreacted? Did I want to see Jaz, Guy, Sonny and the others arrested and possibly tortured because of a rogue Cabal agent?
What if I was wrong about Benicio’s involvement? In that case, might he not set a trap for the gang and end up with the same outcome as scenario one: everyone taken into Cabal custody? The Cabals were known for torturing those who withheld information. It might not even get that far—an “accident” while taking them into custody would be a convenient way to get rid of an inconvenient problem.
If I feared the Cabal’s reaction, I should call Lucas. Yet if I did, with no proof that his father was about to do anything wrong, would I be crying wolf? Make matters worse?
What I really needed was a sounding board. Someone whose opinion I trusted, someone with no allegiance either way. As much as I hated to admit it, I wanted to talk to Karl. But at the thought of asking for his help, I shuddered.
