Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
"You know," Thomas said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I’ve brokered multi-billion-dollar deals, and I’m still trying to juggle the needs of about fifteen different companies—which would be a lot easier if I didn’t have to deal with demon wrangling, contract hunting, and all this metaphysical, paranormal… crap."
"Don’t worry. You’ll be able to continue dominating the financial world soon enough," Yagi replied, supremely unbothered. Of course, it was easy for him—he was a sage, of some sort, as well as a ninja. "Once all this is over."
"Once all this is over," Thomas repeated.
Once Cyril is dead.
They had arrived at Thomas's door at the condominium complex “sanctuary” he’d built, The Havens, just off Jack London square. As he did at Fiendish Headquarters, Thomas occupied the whole top floor. It was easier that way, and according to Yagi, safer.
Yagi frowned. He stopped Thomas with a quick motion of his hand, and then into his suit jacket, pulling out a gun with one hand, and a bronze, slightly curved knife in the other.
Thomas felt his heart freeze, then pump double-time. He, too, reached into his jacket, pulling out the special dagger Yagi had given him, the one he’d been practicing with for the better part of the decade.
Come at me, Thomas thought. He doubted that Cyril would be stupid enough to send one of the twelve signatories that Thomas needed to kill, but God, it was a tempting thought.
Yagi shook his head, then stood in front of Thomas, opening the door and moving in quietly.
There was the large, public "suite," and then Thomas's real bedroom, hidden in the back, panic-room style.
As his bodyguard and main counselor, Yagi was his roomie, as well.
The bedroom that Thomas pretended to use, the luxurious, fake one, had the door open.
There was obviously someone there. He could smell rich perfume in the air, the scent of spice, woman, and seduction.
Thomas gripped the dagger tighter. Moving like a shadow, Yagi glided to the door... then kicked it open.
There was a squeaking shriek as Yagi turned on the light. He let out a deep exhalation and tucked his knife and gun away.
"It’s her," Yagi growled. “Again.” Thomas's heart was still pounding when he glanced in.
Ginny was wrapped in the chocolate-brown comforter, looking incensed. "Really!" "Damn it, Ginny," Thomas said wearily, putting his dagger away, too. "I told you to stop doing this."
She pouted, full and what he supposed passed for sexy, if you liked high infantile dramatics. She obviously wasn't wearing anything beneath the sheet. "But Thomassss...." she said, batting her eyes at him.
He glanced at Yagi. "Don't suppose you could take care of this?"
"Those acrylic nails are surprisingly sharp,” Yagi said, shaking his head and walking away.
“Aren’t you supposed to be my bodyguard?”
“I’m shinobi, not a psychiatrist.” He didn’t even spare her a second glance as he retreated toward his own bedroom. “I deal with demons and the metaphysical. Irritating naked women are not my area. And frankly, you’re not paying me enough to deal with her."
“Coward,” Thomas muttered, then rubbed his hands over his face.
When Elizabeth had died, he and Ginny had bonded, sharing their grief, him for his fiancée, her for her sister.
Still, as close as they’d gotten—he’d offered her a job and let her know the details of his plans for revenge and retribution—he’d known that that one day, she was going to try and shift their friendship to something a little less platonic.
He’d also known that, when she put her mind to something, Ginny was like a pit bull.
That, he realized, was possibly even too far, if she kept this up.
"Gin Blossom, I told you: we don't have that kind of relationship, hon.
" He tried to say it as kindly as possible, but damn it, he was exhausted.
Besides, Yagi was right. After the last two episodes of her trying to seduce him, damned woman ought to have caught a clue.
"You're making things harder." She smiled wickedly.
"I'd like to make things harder," she said, reaching for him.
He'd gotten too close, into proximity of her grasping fingers. He quickly moved further, out of arms' reach. "Goddamn it, Ginny. I was engaged to your sister.”
"That was six years ago. Since she died, you haven't been with anyone for longer than what, a week?” she said, sounding reasonable and just a little wistful. "Don't you get tired of coming back to this big bed, night after night? All alone?"
She did have a point there. He’d tried some casual affairs from time to time, just for the companionship and physical release, but after the last time, when the woman he'd taken to bed sold pictures of him sleeping to tabloids, he really hadn't had much in the way of a sex life.
It had been a while, he realized uncomfortably.
Still, he'd have to be more than simply hard up to sleep with Ginny. He’d have to have lost all sense of judgment.
"I manage just fine, but I do appreciate the concern," he said. "Now, why don't you go on back to your condo, Gin? Just accept that we’re not going to happen. Don't make me change the locks. Again."
She got up, the sheet falling to reveal a perfectly sculpted physique, with enough solidity to remind him there were bags of salt water involved and enough nipping and tucking to make a quilt.
Not that he cared if she wanted to enhance her body.
Fiendish Fashion had an entire plastic surgery subdivision that was incredibly profitable, and he encouraged it if it made someone feel confident.
But he’d seen how it could go from a pleasant boost to a dangerous obsession – and Ginny had an obsessive streak.
It often amazed him how his cool, sophisticated, insistently natural Elizabeth was related to the immature and calculating woman in front of him.
Suddenly, unbidden, he thought of Kate, the temp. She wouldn’t pout, or nag, or try a ham-handed seduction. In fact, he got the feeling that she was the full-blown opposite of calculating.
With my luck, Kate would try to serenade me, he mused… then quickly shuffled through a few musical choices. Maybe “Let’s Get it On” by Marvin Gaye. The thought made him smile.
Ginny must have thought his smile was for her and pushed harder. "You can't tell me you don't want this," Ginny said, arching her back just a touch.
"Actually," he countered mildly, his drawl getting more pronounced with his annoyance, "I can all sorts of say that. I need you to leave now, or I'm going to have to get a lot less gentlemanly."
She stroked her breasts. "I want you to get a whole lot less gentlemanly," she purred.
He sighed again. "Can't say you weren't warned.”
Then he moved in one quick strike, grabbing her around the waist and tossing her over his shoulder like she was a bag of oats. She went from a purr to a shriek of insult as he strode down the hallway, heading for the front door.
"Knock it off, Gin. I mean it," Thomas said, tossing her unceremoniously out in front of the elevator. Then he shut the door on her screech, leaving her in the hallway with nothing but a sheet. She kept on shrieking for a few minutes, then it went quiet.
"She's getting more persistent lately,” Yagi noted, walking out when the coast was clear, keeping the grin off his face. Almost, anyway.
“At this point, I have no idea how she keeps getting in here.” Thomas rubbed his face with his hands. "She's driving me right up a wall. I would send her back to North Carolina if I thought she'd stay. I sent her on to Oakland ahead of me to get her out of my hair."
“You realize you could just fire her."
Thomas glared at him.
"I know, she’s Elizabeth’s sister,” Yagi said quietly. “But she’s a grown woman. Just because Elizabeth took care of her doesn’t mean you are obligated to."
Like the Al argument, this was another one they’d gone through, over and over.
"It's not that easy, and you know it," Thomas said. His phone rang. He glanced at it, sighed. Then answered.
"How dare you!"
"Ginny, I am tired of this horseshit," he said, letting his voice become sharper than it ever had with her. "I'm not going to sleep with you. What do I have to do for you to understand that?"
“But I can give you what you need…”
He sighed, exhausted. “The way you’ve been ‘giving it’ to the mail guy, that guy from publicity, and one of our new limo drivers? Just in the past month?”
She was quiet for a second, and he felt guilt pick at him.
“I’m not judging you. I genuinely don’t give a damn who you sleep with, Gin,” he said. It was true. He’d desperately hoped that she’d fall for one of them and get off his back. “I just know it’s not going to be me.”
"Who else have you got, Thomas?" she said, surprising him. Being reasonable was a new tactic. "Who else knows you? I mean, really knows you? And who else do you honestly think could love you, knowing everything I do?"
He was stunned into silence.
She shifted gears. "Elizabeth wouldn’t want you to live like this,” she wheedled, and the quick slash of pain cut deep. “I’ve known you for years. No matter who else I’ve been with, I love you. I could be everything to you.”
He was silent. God, he hated the note of heartfelt authenticity in her voice.
“Just let me be your wife…"
"No," he said quickly, appalled.
"I just want you so much." She sounded miserable.
"No, Ginny," he said, then hung up.
He was still pensive when Yagi excused himself, heading to his own quarters. Thomas retreated to his bedroom, stripping off his clothes and collapsing on his bed.
Who else could love you, knowing what you really are?
He pulled the cover over him, frowning. Honestly? The answer was no one. He stared at the ceiling, illuminated by the red glow of his alarm clock numbers. The room was like a cell.
It didn’t matter. He didn’t need love. Hell, it was love that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.
He was lonely, but he was alive. And he had bigger things to worry about than fucking loneliness.
When exhaustion finally overcame him, he thought he’d dream of Elizabeth again. Instead, there was a husky laugh, a great smile.
Black hair with a red streak.
For the first time in a long time, he fell asleep with a smile.