Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
Of all the jazz joints in all the sushi restaurants in all the world, Thomas thought, shaking his head with a combination of resignation and disgust as he watched the skinny, ugly guy paw Kate. Why did she have to walk into this one?
Going to Yoshi's had been his client's idea. Given its proximity to his condo in The Havens, Thomas had thought it was a great one. He was looking forward to calling it an early night and getting more work done, back at the suite.
He was really surprised to see the sassy, snarky temp Kate—and even more surprised to realize he was pleased at that fact.
That pleasure was immediately tempered when he realized what he was witnessing.
She was on a date, though if her body language was any indication, she was none too comfortable with it.
He probably shouldn't be amused by that, but he was.
Her date was wearing a shirt whose collar bulged out with the tag he'd forgotten to remove. The kid was socially awkward and tried to make it up by being too aggressive. He’d known guys like that all his life.
And now, the kid was on Kate like a flea on a dog.
If Thomas were a hundred percent sure of Kate’s response, he'd have dragged the kid off and shown him the door. Maybe beaten some manners into him. A good part of him still wanted to—which, he admitted, was strange.
He was just being protective, maybe. After all, Thomas’s mama would turn in her grave if she knew he’d pushed himself on a woman or stood idly by while another man did.
Besides, in a roundabout way, Kate was his employee—or the near occasion of his employee, as Yagi might say.
Thomas was very, very protective of the people he thought of as his.
Kate is definitely mine.
With that appealing thought, he moved to step in and stop the boy’s aggression.
The boy roared with pain, pulling back, his lower lip bloody. Kate had a drop of blood on her mouth that she wiped off with the cloth napkin.
The host rushed forward, looking concerned.
Kate stood up. "Is the program in there?" she asked the bleeding, shocked looking boy, pointing at a messenger bag on a nearby chair.
"Damn it, Kate..."
"Is it in there?" she hissed. The boy nodded. "It’s the zebra stripe thumb drive. I'm sorry," he muttered, pressing his napkin to his lip. "I mean, I didn't..."
"Don't. Talk. To. Me." Her green eyes blazed like fireworks as she pawed through the bag. "And if you follow me, so help me God, I'm beating the fucking brakes off of you."
“Come on, Kate…”
“Seriously. Just try it.” She swiped up the drive and stuffed it in her purse, then weaved through the crowded tables at a fast clip.
The boy blushed bright as a stop light. "But what about the check?" he called after her retreating figure. “You don’t expect me to pay for your dinner if you’re just gonna leave!” Thomas smothered a grin.
Then he gestured to his client, waiting back at their table, indicating he'd be back in a second. He went after Kate, exiting the building. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she spun. He barely managed to miss a beautiful right hook aimed at about her date’s height.
Fortunately, Thomas was taller than her date—and he trained, every day, for just such occasions.
"Whoa there, slugger," he said, holding his hands up. "I just wanted to see if you're okay."
She took a deep breath. "I will be," she growled. "I take it that was not your boyfriend, then," he drawled, putting his hands in his pockets.
"He keeps up shit like that, he's not even going to stay living," she promised darkly.
He laughed, letting out a low whistle. "Remind me not to piss you off." “Fine,” she said, glaring at him. “Don’t piss me off.” He glanced at her. She looked fierce, he thought, with her wild hair and her don’t fuck with me expression.
In the past, he’d always preferred cool, demure women—usually blondes, like Elizabeth.
And he’d never been attracted to a woman who snarled at him.
But damn, Kate made it look good.
“Consider me warned.” He nodded at her purse. "So what's with the thumb drive?"
He could see her freeze, the sudden tension.
"Extra-curricular project," she finally said.
"You're in school?"
"No."
He stared at her. "Okay," he said, waiting for her to expand on it. She didn’t. "Right. See you at work," she said, then turned, heading for the parking garage.
"Say, Kate?"
She turned, her hip tilted, glancing over her shoulder like a 50’s pin-up model, her curls tumbling over her shoulders. "Yeah?"
"I'm glad he's not your boyfriend.”
She stared at him. Hell, he would've stared at himself if he could have. The words popped out before he could stop them, and he winced.
She sent him a slow, almost shy smile that somehow did more for his libido than Ginny’s full naked displays. He was surprised by the punch of it, momentarily rooted to the spot.
Then she took two steps... and walked smack into a parking sign.
"I'm okay. I'm okay," she said, waving him off when he went to help. She sounded flustered, and her pretty olive cheeks were dusted with a rosy pink.
His smile broadened as he watched her stumble away. It was a good feeling.
"See you tomorrow," she repeated emphatically, the go away tone clearly evident. She then moved with the furious haste of someone embarrassed.
Thomas was still grinning about it when he walked back into the restaurant.
"What was that all about?" his dinner guest, Mr. Harlow Frederickson, asked with amusement.
"Just a friend," Thomas said, not wanting to go into details.
The boy had gone, at least... and besides, Thomas was pretty sure Kate could handle him if he was stupid enough to go after her.
"I apologize for the delay. Shall we talk about the details of the merger?
I'd love to add your advertising agency to Fiendish Enterprises. "
"Sure. Although I bumped into a friend, too, while you were outside," Harlow said, gesturing to someone else. Still buzzing from his weird little exchange with Kate, Thomas looked over.
His heart stilled in his chest. It felt like his whole body had been dropped in a vat of liquid nitrogen.
Harlow was oblivious. "Thomas, I'd like you to meet Cyril. Cyril Roman." The man was tall, thin, his hair a pale corn silk blond. He smiled, holding out his hand.
Thomas stared at it. Yup. Even the scar was still there, just over the wrist.
"Nice to see you again, Thomas," Cyril said, barely contained mirth in his voice.
"Oh, do you two know each other?" Harlow said, sounding delighted.
Thomas ignored the proffered hand. "I didn't realize you two knew each other," he said instead, frowning at Harlow.
"Fairly recent acquaintance,” Harlow said, “but we’re becoming fast friends. You would not believe this guy’s connections.”
“Oh, I would,” Thomas muttered.
"We're working on a deal of sorts, too," Cyril explained to Harlow.
"I was a little disappointed that you hadn't stopped by, Thomas, now that you've moved into my neighborhood, as it were.
Maybe we could set up a lunch or something.
Catch up. It's been, what, seven years since we've had a decent conversation? "
Thomas narrowed his eyes. "I was too busy trying to stab you three years ago," he agreed. "So yeah, seven sounds about right."
Harlow's eyes widened. Then he let out a nervous crack of laughter. "Sounds like you two have quite the history!
"You could say that,” Thomas said, his voice tight as he glared at the man who had given him the contract—and was even now waiting to take his company, and his soul.
Number thirteen, Thomas thought, the dagger hidden in his suit jacket almost burning him. If I could just…
But it wouldn’t work. Trying to kill Cyril without killing the twelve people who had agreed to protect him—the twelve powerful souls who had signed on to be psychic bodyguards—simply wouldn’t work.
Until he killed the protectorate, Cyril was untouchable.
Revenge would have to wait.
Cyril grinned impudently. "Well. I don't want to interrupt your dinner. You call me, Thomas, y'hear?" His drawl was warm, even though his gaze was icy and amused. "After all, you know just where I am, don't you? And I obviously know how to reach you."
With that and a smug little smile, Cyril left.
"Wow," Harlow said, still forcing a chuckle. "What was that all abo—" "You're in negotiations with him?" "Well, yeah." Harlow's eyes lit. "Didn't know you were part of the, uh, team." He winked.
Thomas wiped his mouth with his napkin. Then he stood up. "We're done here," he said.
Harlow's eyes popped. "Wait! Why? What are you talking about?"
Thomas pulled out his wallet, casually tossing more than enough money to pay the bill on the table. He didn’t even want to wait for a credit card to process, he just wanted to get out.
"I don't do business with people," Thomas said tightly, ignoring Harlow’s shocked expression, "who do business with that man."
God damn it, he thought, as he stalked back outside and Yagi appeared like a shadow. Tonight just wasn’t his night.