Chapter 19 #2
I just stared at him, unable to decide between being gratified or furious. “So, what you’re saying is, you weren’t sure if I was a lying, murdering honeytrap whore, but you banged me anyway. Wow, Masters. That’s brave of you.”
“It’s not that I thought you were,” he corrected.
“It was just a tiny percentage point of doubt. I had to put it to rest, because you’re amazing, and I want to fling myself into this thing one hundred percent, not ninety-nine.
So, I tried to see if your life seemed, you know.
Real. Genuine. If it held up to scrutiny. ”
“And does it?”
“It’s strange,” he admitted. “You are clearly an unusual person. But your friends love you and trust you, and feel protective of you. It’s plain you take care of them, and that can’t be faked. So please. Accept my apology for violating your privacy.”
Hmmm. I reached out for a tempura-battered artichoke heart, and studied him while I slowly savored it. He waited patiently for my verdict.
“You’re throwing your weight around, big time, Masters,” I told him, grabbing another artichoke chunk. They were addictive as hell.
“Yes, my sister scolds me about that. Am I forgiven?”
“Not so fast, big guy,” I said. “‘Forgiven’ is a big word. It’s too soon. But in the meantime, you might as well catch me up on everything else you learned today.”
Ethan served me some ravioli. “I’ll give you the short version,” he said. “Clemens is nowhere to be found. He’s not at his house, or his office. I talked to Julia, his office manager. My sense is she only knew enough about what was going on to feel nervous, but that’s all.”
“Screw Julia,” I said coolly. “She used me, and threw me to the wolves, no matter what she knew or didn’t know. How about the office building? Did anyone report what happened to the police?”
“Oddly enough, no. No one called them.”
“No one? For a shootout?” I said, incredulously. “For real?”
“These people planned ahead,” he said. “The building is new, very few tenants so far, and that day, the security staff was out sick with a violent stomach bug. The guy who staffs the place ended up unconscious in the emergency room, and he claims nobody ever called anyone to cover. The guys who attacked us just showed up and took over, smooth as silk.”
“Wild,” I murmured, impressed. “That is some serious organization.”
“Yeah. The video disappeared, of course. The building was prepared for us. Or I suppose I should say, that building was prepared for me.”
I was inclined to think he was right. This was about him, not me. It didn’t feel like Tony Petruzzi’s style. Tony wasn’t big on guile, foresight, or planning. He wasn’t smart enough. He was just a bundle of raw, screaming nerve-endings with a gun.
“Another thing,” he said. “I also discovered that some people, not my people, showed up at your martial arts school looking for you. People that Danica did not like.”
I winced, inwardly. Chances were, those guys were Ethan’s baddies, but I wish I could be sure they weren’t connected to the Petruzzis. Because if they were, I needed to pack up my stuff, take my tiny stash of money, and scram. And I didn’t want to.
I would hate to leave my friends, and my girls. I’d broken rule number one and gotten attached. Then I met Ethan Masters, and proceeded to break rules two through two thousand. “That’s not good news,” I said.
He nodded, and we were quiet, concentrating on that incredible pasta for a few minutes while I groped around for a good starting place. I needed to say my piece.
“I hope you’ve concluded that I am not a whoring spy,” I told him. “That’s the antithesis of who I am.”
“I believe you,” he said. “One hundred percent.”
Something deep inside me relaxed. “Thank God.”
“That does not, however, explain the incredible strangeness of finding a woman with your reflexes and abilities and training standing next to me in that elevator.”
I shrugged. “Random fate. All I know about your problems is what you told me. You could keep me here for years and never get any useful info from me. I got zip.”
“Okay,”’ he said, as he refreshed my wine. “Tell me about your combat skills. How the hell did that happen?”
I was prepared for this question. I’d fielded it before, in other contexts, so I trotted out my standard story.
“It started with a thing that happened in college,” I said.
“I went to this frat party, which was my first mistake. I drank a cup of fruit punch, which was my second. I woke up with a guy trying to drag my pants off. I kneed him in the teeth. He needed dental work afterward. And I was glad of it. And I decided to invest a whole lot of energy into making sure nothing like that would ever happen to me again.”
“I see.” I couldn’t help but feel like he was unconvinced, and wanted more.
In my own defense, that story was not strictly a lie.
It was just what one might call a patchwork truth.
A little bit altered, a little bit out of sequence.
I’d been at plenty of stupid parties during my stint in college, but I was far too cagey to drink any frat boy’s punch.
The pants being pulled off had not been mine.
Rather, they had belonged to a clueless, passed out seventeen-year-old who had drunk too much and collapsed on a pile of coats.
She may as well have had “prey” tattooed onto her forehead, but I didn’t have it tattooed on mine.
Not even back in college. I scared men off even then.
The knee-to-the-teeth detail was for real, and so was the guy’s dental work. But that had not been my catalyst. I had already been an expert martial artist at that point.
I still wondered sometimes if that poor, drugged girl passed out on the pile of coats had learned anything from that night. One could only hope.
Ethan was giving me that look. Like he was peeling back layers and peering into the dark inside me, where he had no goddamn business looking. “Skip the creepy staring,” I told him. “It bugs me.”
His smile was charming and apologetic. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s hard not to stare. You’re beautiful. And fascinating.”
“There you go again, buttering me up.”
“It is the literal truth,” he said. “Denying it makes you look childish and silly.”
I shrugged. “The thing about looks, though. It’s just not that important. Or even real. It’s just a trick of nature, and not particularly useful to me. I can attract some attention on a good day, so for the most part, I dress way down. Baggy clothes, a ponytail.”
“You’re still drop-dead beautiful,” he said. “You’re fooling nobody.”
“And there you go again, missing my point. It isn’t who I am.
It’s just how I look right now, and it happens to fit some current canon of desirability, which is also random.
In a few years, when I’ve got crow’s feet and a turkey neck and liver spots and a wrinkly cleavage, it won’t fit that canon anymore. Seems dumb to fixate on it.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I see the rest of you, I swear to God I do. But I’m a mere mortal man, so you have to forgive me for loving how you look. Have mercy on me.”
I held up my hand, thumb and forefinger almost touching. “This much,” I said sternly. “This much mercy, and no more. But only if you stop carrying on about it.”
“Okay,” he promised “Just one last little thing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Here you go again. What?”
“You’re going to be a fucking gorgeous old lady, when you get there. Great bones, piercing eyes, amazing posture, snow-white hair. Full of power and wisdom.”
I laughed, in spite of myself. “You are such an extravagant bullshitter.”
Ethan smiled and lifted his wineglass. “Are you ready for that truce yet?”
I was still laughing, gaze locked with his, and my laughter melted away as his personality battered at me like a storm wind.
I had such a yearning impulse to just give him what he wanted.
Yield to it, relax, lean on him, just like he wanted me to, ahhhh, so sweet.
To be protected, pampered, coddled, desired.
But everything had its price. I wasn’t quite sure what it was yet. Maybe Ethan didn’t even know himself.
But the bill would come due eventually, one way or another. It always did.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I didn’t make all this effort and come all this way just to be your bed toy.”
His smile faded, and he set his wine down. “It’s not like that at all,” he said. “I’m just so afraid of you being hurt. And knowing it was my fault would kill me. Can’t we just work together to prevent that? Just until this thing is handled?”
I considered that for a minute. “Your brother has been gone for months now, and it’s not handled yet. I don’t see this thing wrapping up anytime soon.”
“Bite your tongue,” he said. “All I can do is try like hell. Please. Help me.”
That was a sentiment she understood. “I have to go back to town and keep up with the classes I agreed to teach,” I said. “The girls have paid for the month already.”
“On sliding scales, I bet.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I snapped.
“Just that you clearly need an influx of cash to get that place up to code. I could absolutely help with—”
“Hell, no. Hold it right there, buddy. Don’t say one more word. Or you’ll piss me off.”
“How about Charlotte’s glasses?” he wheedled.
“Could I pay for an appointment with a really good ophthalmologist, and get her a pair of glasses? Or actually, two pairs. She needs a pair for her regular life, and a pair of sports glasses, for her martial arts classes. Charlotte never has to know who paid for them.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. That sneaky guy instinctively sensed all my weak points.
“Pay for Charlotte’s glasses if it makes you feel good,” I snapped.
“But I will not get sucked into your vortex. I worked hard to build what I have, who I am. My school, the girls. I’m not tossing that away for some guy’s whim, no matter how hot he is. ”
Ethan’s eyebrow went up. “Hot? Aww. Are you buttering me up?”
“Butter would sizzle and melt on your griddle,” I told him.
He laughed. “That sounds promising.”
“Take me to Seattle,” I said sternly. “Tomorrow morning. First thing.”
His mouth tightened. “If you insist. But I think it’s stupid.”
“Maybe, but it’s my life,” I told him. “My mission. I won’t just abandon it.”
For the third time, he held up his glass, with a sigh. “Truce. Okay?”
This time, I clinked mine with his. “Truce,” I echoed.
“How about a kiss, to seal the bargain?”
“Why, you shameless opportunist.” I smiled at the gleam in his eyes, savoring that hot clench of longing that was always there, ready to flare up into a blaze. I leaned across the table, and gave him a lingering kiss. Delicious. The man was just so yum.
“I have a suggestion,” he said. “The terrace outside my bedroom has a hot tub. Let’s go sip Prosecco, watch the sunset. Work out the fine details of our truce.”
I smiled at him. “Okay, lover boy,” I said softly. “Let’s go get naked.”