3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Zeke
“So, you’re giving up. After all these years.”
Mal leant back in his chair and crossed his arms. Anyone else might have been intimidated by his glare, but I was used to it. He’d worn that look since the moment I was born. How could I forget it?
When had my brother never been disappointed in a decision I’d made? He thought he knew what was best for me, but he didn’t and never had.
“That’s not what I said, Mal. I said I’d found something else, and you don’t need me here now. You have Jason.” I sat opposite him in his office, like a naughty schoolboy sent to see the headmaster.
“He doesn’t work here. You do.” He pointed his finger for emphasis, but I was tired of his over-dominant ways.
“He might as well with the amount of time he spends here, and no, I don’t work here anymore. I’ve already spoken to Dad, and he said it was fine.”
“You went over my head?” He sat forward, his jaw clenched.
“No. I told Dad I wanted out. I’m bored doing the same shit day in, day out, and since you and Dante closed down my other business…”
I left the sentence unfinished. My brother knew my feelings on the subject.
“You knew it was unethical.”
“Since when are demons bothered with ethics? You’ve become soft since mating with Jason.” Another reason I did not want a mate. I was content hooking up with whoever took my fancy.
If it had a pulse and smiled, I was fucking it. Strictly speaking, they didn’t really need to smile. A demon knew easy prey when they saw it. What could I say?
“Don’t fucking start, Ezekiel.” Oh, I’d hit a nerve. Mal never called me Ezekiel unless he was really pissed at me.
I could count on one hand the amount of times that had happened. Surprising, really, as I seemed to piss him off on the daily.
“I’m just saying I feel like a spare dick at a wedding now. You have Jason. I’m surplus to requirements.”
Did I feel bitter? A little maybe, but it wasn’t like we’d worked with each other since the day we’d been old enough to wreak havoc on the world.
He’d taken the equivalent of a gap year, fifty years to be exact, and gone on a killing spree, all because of some douchebag called Bael.
Bael had tried to claim Mal as his mate not too long ago, right after he’d met Jason. It hadn’t gone well for Bael, and he was now living in the other realm at the insistence of Dante.
By this point, it was semantics. I’d already accepted the job from Ernesto and was leaving for London later today. I’d found myself an apartment close to where my target lived. No sense in commuting every day.
“I’m a grown man, Mal.”
“Debatable.”
“Fuck you. I could have just left, you know.”
“I guess I’m grateful you told me.” Mal softened a little, but the tick in his jaw conveyed he was still pissed at me.
“I have a job in London, working for an Italian duke or something. He wants me to keep an eye on his son-in-law and granddaughter.”
“I’m guessing there’s money involved. There always is where you’re concerned.”
“Hey. That’s uncalled for.” Except it was true. I did nothing unless I could benefit financially. What was the point otherwise?
He sighed and walked over to the window, his shoulders tense.
“Look, what did I bring to the business other than aggravation for you? You can easily find someone else to replace me. You don’t need me, Mal.”
He spun and faced me, his face showing no emotion.
“No, you’re right. I don’t need you.” He dismissed me with a flick of his hand. “Off you go. Get out of my office.”
“Exactly. You have Jason now and Smokey.” Smokey was our hellhound, but we might have well had called him Fluffy. He was the least vicious dog you could ever meet.
But I’d be lying if I said Mal’s comment didn’t hurt a little. Was I wanting him to beg me to stay? No, but his flippancy irked me.
Maybe blood wasn’t thicker than water after all.
I stood swiftly and marched to the door.
“Zeke.” I held the door handle and waited. “Drive safely, and let me know when you arrive.”
I nodded, swung open the door, and stepped out into the corridor as Jason walked down it.
“Is everything okay?” He touched my shoulder as he passed.
“Yeah, I’m good. Look after him while I’m away. Who knows what trouble he’ll get into?”
“What? Where are you going? How long will you be gone? I don’t understand.”
“I have a job in London. I’m leaving this afternoon.”
“But, but…” I kissed him on the top of his head, knowing it’d annoy Mal.
“I’ll be back,” I said in my best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice.
“How long will you be gone?”
“So many questions, Jason. You’re as bad as Mal.” Except he wasn’t. Mal hadn’t seemed too interested. More concerned I was bailing on the company business. “As long as it takes to get the job done.”
“Okay. Well, take care and keep in touch.”
“Will do, kiddo.” I sauntered away from him with an air of indifference.
I’d been on my own before. I could do it again. I didn’t think we’d worked together for as long as this time, and I knew Mal would be pleased to see the back of me. I’d caused him untold problems.
Chuckling, I walked through the door and to my bike—a black Ducati 999.
Mal wouldn’t be happy with my scent on Jason, and if I really strained, I could hear his roar from here.
I swung my leg over the bike, placed my helmet on my head, and started it up, feeling the throb between my legs.
There was nothing like it.
I popped a wheelie and roared away, ignoring the conservative speed limit.
I’d need a few things from the house, a few essentials. I’d ask Mrs Gold to ship the rest to me as and when I needed it.
When I arrived, the house was silent. I ran upstairs to my room, threw some things into a backpack, and made my way downstairs.
Smokey met me at the bottom, and I bent to fuss over him.
“I’ll be back soon. Keep out of trouble and stop worrying the ducks.” He whined. I was sure he understood me.
“You off then, dearie.” Mrs Gold approached, a small bag in her hand. “Here. Some of those cookies you like. Make sure they don’t get crushed in your bag.”
She handed it to me and sniffled.
Why did everyone think I wasn’t coming back?
“I’ll not be gone forever. It’s just a job. Probably only take a week or two. A month at the most, and then I’ll be home causing trouble for Mal. Plus, I’ll miss your cooking.”
“Of course. I’m being silly.” She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. “I’m just so used to you being here.”
“You have Mal and Jason to look after. You won’t miss me.”
“It’ll be quiet, that’s for sure. Now, drive safely. I wish you didn’t have to go on that contraption. Couldn’t you take a taxi?”
“I’ll be fine, Mrs G. I’ll be in touch.”
I loved her and Mal, but this was another reason I was happy to branch out on my own. Things were a little claustrophobic. Everyone watched what I did and judged me. Most of the time, they found me lacking.
It was time for a fresh start where no one knew me, and London was a big enough place I could blend into the scenery.
It was seven by the time I arrived in the underground garage of the apartment I rented. I hopped off the bike, my legs tingling from the constant vibration.
I input the security code into the keypad of the lift to take me to the penthouse suite. If I was staying in London, I was renting the best apartment money could buy.
I wasn’t disappointed. This was better than anywhere I’d stayed before, and that included the house. The decor was modern, with lots of glass, plenty of leather furniture, clean lines, and very little in the way of clutter.
It was perfect. I opened the fridge, which was fully stocked, the wine rack equally so. I may never leave.
I texted Mal and Mrs Gold, letting them know I’d arrived, and took a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc onto the balcony overlooking the city.
Sunset approached, but the air still carried the sun’s warmth. Not that it bothered me particularly, immune as I was to cold or heat.
My phone buzzed, and I let it go to voicemail. Nothing would disturb my evening. Tomorrow, I’d scope out Rory’s place and put together a plan of action. Until then, everyone else could fuck off.
Except the phone rang again and again, and before long, it pinged, letting me know I had a message. Who the fuck would it be?
I picked it up.
Isadora.
Could I be arsed? But then they were paying me a huge amount of money.
“Isadora. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Signor Marinelli would like to speak with you. Next time, answer the damn phone.”
It went silent for a while. Then the heavily accented voice of Ernesto came through.
“Where are you? I was expecting something by now.” For fuck’s sake, I’d only left Italy four days ago.
“I’m in London. I’ll be heading out tomorrow to your son-in-law’s place. You’ll have my report by the end of the day if I find anything.”
“Did you misunderstand the assignment?”
What the fuck? I sat up a little straighter, took the phone off speaker, and put it to my ear. This guy needed to know I wasn’t to be messed with. It might have been a million euros, but I could walk away at any time.
It wasn’t like I needed the money anyway.
“I misunderstood nothing. You gave no deadline. I travelled back from Italy, found a place in London, packed up my stuff, and moved here. Not sure I could have done it any quicker.”
Patience had never been a virtue of mine, and this guy was pushing every button I had.
“I can’t stress how important this is.”
To him. This was important to him.
“You could always find someone else to do this. You’ve paid me jack shit so far, Ernesto. So if you’d like to do that…”
“Signor Marinelli would like you to continue with your arrangement.” Isadora’s sultry voice sounded in my ear.
Seemed he was chicken shit after all and had handed the phone to his secretary to deal with me.
“You know I don’t need the money, nor do I need the job.”
“I know, and it makes me wonder why you took the job in the first place, but we both know you’re a whore for money.”
“You got me there. At least give me a couple of days to start the job he will pay me for.”
The good mood I’d cultivated sitting out on the balcony soon dissipated, and I was left with a sour taste in my mouth, and it wasn’t from the wine.
“He loved his daughter and only wants the best for his granddaughter.”
The reasons he wanted her back were lost on me, but who was I to argue?
“You’ll have my first report this time tomorrow. Tell Mr Marinelli I’ll be in touch.” Without saying goodbye, I ended the call.
Something didn’t feel right. Call it a sixth sense; call it intuition. You didn’t live as long as I did and not have a feel for when things felt off. And this felt off.
The problem was, I’d likely annoyed the only person I’d usually discuss things with.
My brother, Mal. He’d probably not forgiven me for kissing Jason, regardless of the fact that it was done to annoy him.
It was banter between brothers, nothing more.
I could call Yanni, but since we no longer needed papers for the resurrection business, we’d hardly spoken. Dante hadn’t been as kind to him as Mal and me, and he’d been banished from Earth for a couple of years at least.
He blamed me, but it was hardly my fault.
Shit, I had no one in my life other than my brother and Jason.
Yes, I had a lot of sexual partners, but I was a fuck ’em and dump ’em kind of guy. Once the job was done, I wiped their memories and never saw them again.
What was the point of getting close to people when they were going to die well before me, leaving me alone, and having to start the cycle all over again?
Mal had understood until he’d met Jason. Then everything had changed.
I picked up the wineglass and knocked the contents down in one, grimacing at the burn in my throat. I poured another, took a deep breath, and sat down.
I wouldn’t let a twat like Ernesto ruin my evening, nor the magical pink and orange sunset that hovered over the city.
I kicked off my boots and rested my feet on the chair in front. Hopefully, he wasn’t going to cause problems for me.
I hated being micro-managed at the best of times, but especially not by someone I barely knew.
After an hour, my stomach growled. How long had it been since I’d eaten?
I made myself a snack and finished the bottle of wine. The three-hour journey had tired me, and I’d yet to wash the dirt, dust, and sweat covering me.
Time for a shower, then bed. I could go another night without ‘company’, and I had an early start anyway.
By the time my head hit the pillow, I was exhausted.
Would Rory be the ogre Ernesto portrayed him to be? If his picture was anything to go by, I’d say no, but appearances could be deceiving.
I was living proof of that. If anyone saw the real me, they’d likely run for the hills. I sank into the soft mattress, closed my eyes, and slept, thoughts of Rory floating in my dreams.