Shadow Bound
Page 23
“Meaning?” But I could see the truth in the tense line of her shoulders. She knew exactly what I meant.
“You ran out of here last night like the hotel was on fire.” I headed into the bedroom and her quick, angry footsteps followed me.
“I wasn’t running, I was…drunk. Too much vodka. I didn’t want to puke all over your hotel room.”
I glanced at her from the closet doorway. She’d gulped from the bottle like a pro, without even flinching. Kori Daniels might have been a lot of things, but she was not a novice drinker. Yet there was something new and vulnerable in her expression—something fragile and caged—and that surprised me so much I decided not to push the issue.
I selected a tie and stood in front of the mirror to knot it, watching her reflection fidget while she watched mine. She was uncomfortable in silence, and her hands needed something to do.
Interesting.
“So, what do you want for breakfast?” she asked, when the silence became too much for her. “There’s a restaurant in the hotel, or we could try—”
“I ordered room service,” I said, giving the knot a final tug to tighten it. “Should be here in—” A knock came from the suite door. “Right about now.”
She followed me to the living area and stood with her arms crossed over her chest while I signed for the food and the waiter laid it out on the table. “I thought we were going out for breakfast.”
“We were. Now we’re not.” I handed the bill back to the waiter and he left, while she continued to scowl at me. “I ordered a little of everything. Take your pick.” She opened her mouth to complain—I could see it on her face—but I spoke over her. “And don’t tell me you’re not hungry. I hate it when women starve themselves to achieve some stupid physical ideal that only looks natural on a twelve-year-old. Men don’t want women who look like children. Not real men, anyway.”
Her eyes narrowed and I could almost hear her teeth grind together. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched her, waiting to see her head explode. She opened her mouth to start what would surely have been an award-worthy string of expletives. But then she saw my face.
“You’re baiting me,” she accused, hands propped on her bony hips.
“Yes.” I started uncovering plates, stacking the domed covers on the coffee table. “You are the most interesting thing Tower has shown me so far. But I do think you’re too thin. Will you eat with me?” I sat at the table and pushed another chair out for her with my foot.
She stood for a moment, watching me. Considering. Then she glanced at the plates steaming on the hotel table. “Fine. But I call the waffles.”
“I’ll split them with you.”
After another moment of consideration, she nodded.
We rearranged food on the plates, splitting the eggs and bacon as well, unwrapping silverware and passing salt, pepper and tiny bottles of syrup back and forth. When I was full and her plate was empty—Kori ate an entire Belgian waffle in under three minutes—I set my remaining food in front of her and leaned back in my chair, watching her from across the table. Studying her.
Reminding myself that she was a means to an end. A tool. Nothing more. No matter how fast my pulse rushed when she looked up, and I realized I’d never seen eyes with such depth, like everything she’d ever seen was still in there staring back at me, daring me to take a closer look.
One moment she looked vulnerable and bruised, and I wanted to bandage wounds I couldn’t even see. Then a second later, that woman was gone, and in her place stood a fierce hellcat, angry at the world and spitting flames with every word, and I wanted to poke her just to see the sparks fly.
I couldn’t figure her out. But the more time I spent with her, the worse I wanted to, and that was dangerous. Kori was dangerous. Tower knew what he was doing when he sent her. How could anyone spend more than five minutes with her and not be fascinated by her? Not want her?
Focus, Ian. Play to win.
“Okay, this is your moment.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in my chair. “I am rested, fed and as receptive as I’m going to be. Tell me why I should join the Tower syndicate.”
Kori hesitated with her fork halfway to her mouth, egg yolk dripping into a puddle of leftover syrup on her plate. “Right now? Just like that?”
I nodded. “Wow me.”
She lowered her fork slowly and stared at me from across the table. I’d thrown her off balance, and I was a little relieved to realize that was even possible. “Well, obviously there’s a steady paycheck. A nice one, considering the strength and rarity of your Skill.”
I shrugged. “Every job pays. What will I get from the syndicate that I’m not already getting as a systems analyst?”
Kori laughed out loud, and I almost joined her. Then I remembered to pretend that it was perfectly plausible for me to sit behind a desk all day weighing the pros and cons of various software options for a billion-dollar company, when the truth was that I lived more than an hour from the nearest internet connection, connected to my family only by satellite phone.
Too bad that part of my cover story was set in stone.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded, though I could easily have answered that question myself.
“Can I answer in the form of a list?” she asked, and I nodded, curious now. “The fact that you think you’re getting anything out of being a systems analyst is hilarious. The fact that I don’t even know what a systems analyst does is even funnier. Then there’s the fact that you are a systems analyst. I knew that, but now that I’ve met you, I just…can’t see it.”
“You ran out of here last night like the hotel was on fire.” I headed into the bedroom and her quick, angry footsteps followed me.
“I wasn’t running, I was…drunk. Too much vodka. I didn’t want to puke all over your hotel room.”
I glanced at her from the closet doorway. She’d gulped from the bottle like a pro, without even flinching. Kori Daniels might have been a lot of things, but she was not a novice drinker. Yet there was something new and vulnerable in her expression—something fragile and caged—and that surprised me so much I decided not to push the issue.
I selected a tie and stood in front of the mirror to knot it, watching her reflection fidget while she watched mine. She was uncomfortable in silence, and her hands needed something to do.
Interesting.
“So, what do you want for breakfast?” she asked, when the silence became too much for her. “There’s a restaurant in the hotel, or we could try—”
“I ordered room service,” I said, giving the knot a final tug to tighten it. “Should be here in—” A knock came from the suite door. “Right about now.”
She followed me to the living area and stood with her arms crossed over her chest while I signed for the food and the waiter laid it out on the table. “I thought we were going out for breakfast.”
“We were. Now we’re not.” I handed the bill back to the waiter and he left, while she continued to scowl at me. “I ordered a little of everything. Take your pick.” She opened her mouth to complain—I could see it on her face—but I spoke over her. “And don’t tell me you’re not hungry. I hate it when women starve themselves to achieve some stupid physical ideal that only looks natural on a twelve-year-old. Men don’t want women who look like children. Not real men, anyway.”
Her eyes narrowed and I could almost hear her teeth grind together. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched her, waiting to see her head explode. She opened her mouth to start what would surely have been an award-worthy string of expletives. But then she saw my face.
“You’re baiting me,” she accused, hands propped on her bony hips.
“Yes.” I started uncovering plates, stacking the domed covers on the coffee table. “You are the most interesting thing Tower has shown me so far. But I do think you’re too thin. Will you eat with me?” I sat at the table and pushed another chair out for her with my foot.
She stood for a moment, watching me. Considering. Then she glanced at the plates steaming on the hotel table. “Fine. But I call the waffles.”
“I’ll split them with you.”
After another moment of consideration, she nodded.
We rearranged food on the plates, splitting the eggs and bacon as well, unwrapping silverware and passing salt, pepper and tiny bottles of syrup back and forth. When I was full and her plate was empty—Kori ate an entire Belgian waffle in under three minutes—I set my remaining food in front of her and leaned back in my chair, watching her from across the table. Studying her.
Reminding myself that she was a means to an end. A tool. Nothing more. No matter how fast my pulse rushed when she looked up, and I realized I’d never seen eyes with such depth, like everything she’d ever seen was still in there staring back at me, daring me to take a closer look.
One moment she looked vulnerable and bruised, and I wanted to bandage wounds I couldn’t even see. Then a second later, that woman was gone, and in her place stood a fierce hellcat, angry at the world and spitting flames with every word, and I wanted to poke her just to see the sparks fly.
I couldn’t figure her out. But the more time I spent with her, the worse I wanted to, and that was dangerous. Kori was dangerous. Tower knew what he was doing when he sent her. How could anyone spend more than five minutes with her and not be fascinated by her? Not want her?
Focus, Ian. Play to win.
“Okay, this is your moment.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in my chair. “I am rested, fed and as receptive as I’m going to be. Tell me why I should join the Tower syndicate.”
Kori hesitated with her fork halfway to her mouth, egg yolk dripping into a puddle of leftover syrup on her plate. “Right now? Just like that?”
I nodded. “Wow me.”
She lowered her fork slowly and stared at me from across the table. I’d thrown her off balance, and I was a little relieved to realize that was even possible. “Well, obviously there’s a steady paycheck. A nice one, considering the strength and rarity of your Skill.”
I shrugged. “Every job pays. What will I get from the syndicate that I’m not already getting as a systems analyst?”
Kori laughed out loud, and I almost joined her. Then I remembered to pretend that it was perfectly plausible for me to sit behind a desk all day weighing the pros and cons of various software options for a billion-dollar company, when the truth was that I lived more than an hour from the nearest internet connection, connected to my family only by satellite phone.
Too bad that part of my cover story was set in stone.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded, though I could easily have answered that question myself.
“Can I answer in the form of a list?” she asked, and I nodded, curious now. “The fact that you think you’re getting anything out of being a systems analyst is hilarious. The fact that I don’t even know what a systems analyst does is even funnier. Then there’s the fact that you are a systems analyst. I knew that, but now that I’ve met you, I just…can’t see it.”
