Temping is Hell (29 page)

Chapter Twenty-seven

Kate held the knife in her hand, feeling strangely numb.

She’d just watched her friend die.
Again
.

Maggie was lying in a pool of blood by the door.

The man who had tortured and almost killed her had just disintegrated.

And the man who was responsible for her soul getting an e-ticket to Hell was lying exhausted and unarmed on the floor.

One quick jab, and she’d be unemployed—but she’d have her soul back.

God is my witness, I have no idea what I ought to do right now
.

He stared at the knife for a long second. Then, to her surprise, he got to his knees… and unbuttoned his shirt.

“W-what are you doing?” she stammered. “Good grief, Thomas, I’m not going to have
sex
with you
here
!”

He blinked at her, then to her shock, his rich, full laugh belted out.

“I’m not trying to seduce you, you turkey,” he said slowly, his smile fading as sorrow darkened his gaze. “Remember what I told you?”

“When?”

“You said, if we got out of this, you’d kill me yourself,” he said softly. “And I said…”

“You’d let me.” Kate repeated the words, the surreal sense of the situation all but overwhelming her.

“This is my fault.” His drawl sounded so very, very tired. “I shouldn’t have signed you. I was so hell-bent on killing Cyril, I was willing to put you at risk. Even if I was arrogant enough to pretend that wasn’t what I was doing.”

“You’re tricking me,” she said, even as her heart traitorously leaped at his words. “You’re going to have me come in close, and then you’re going to go all ninja-fighter on me.”

“I’m serious, Kate. You want to kill me, this is your shot.” He pointed at his chest, then spread his arms out and closed his eyes.

She took a step forward.

Just a quick stab
, she thought.
A hard, quick stab
. Then he’d die, maybe even turn to dust like Victor Klauss.

But he’s not like Victor, is he?

He’d signed his soul not to get more money, but to protect a woman he loved. He’d tried to save Kate’s life the only way he knew how, by signing her soul when Victor nearly killed her. He would have put up with Maggie—a fate worse than death, as far as she was concerned—to keep Victor away from her. He’d threatened to kill himself. He’d even thrown himself in the way of Victor’s knife when Victor came after her.

And now, here he was, arms outstretched, chest bare. Telling her to kill him.

The knife clattered to the ground.

“I’m tired,” she said, her words sounding like a cranky, scared toddler. “I am so tired, Thomas. And my head hurts.”

He got up, folding her in his arms. “I know, baby,” he crooned. “And I’m sorry. I’ll do everything I can to make this right.”

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, arms around each other, eyes closed. She nuzzled against his chest.

“Well,” a new voice said, and she pried her eyes open. “This is unexpected.”

Thomas jolted, his arms wrapping around her more tightly. He was in no shape to protect her, she realized, no matter how much he might have wanted to. She tried to get herself to an upright position, then realized Thomas’s body had relaxed. She focused on the new participant.

“Yagi,” Thomas drawled. “Nice of you to show up.”

“Strangely, you’ve got your secretary there to thank for it,” Yagi said, with an amused gleam in his normally stoic eyes. “She led us here. Or more to the point, her friend Prudence did.” He actually smiled broadly, saying Prue’s name.

“Kate? You told him where we’d be?” Thomas asked, turning to her with bewilderment. “How did you know?”

Kate leaned back against his chest, feeling weariness wrap around her like a Snuggie. “We never found Maggie’s purse, remember?”

“So?”

“It didn’t make sense. Maggie wasn’t the type to jump. She was the type to throw somebody else out the window,” Kate said, her voice slurring as the adrenaline crashed out of her bloodstream. “I didn’t know how she might’ve faked it then, but I just got the hinky feeling that something was up. If she did fake it, and she ran…”

“She wouldn’t have left her purse behind,” Thomas finished.

“And she’s an
Angry Birds
addict,” Kate explained. “So I left a message with Prue. I told her that if I didn’t check in by midnight, she needed to go to Yagi and tell him to do an Internet search for the location of Maggie’s iPhone.”

“Cyril’s power base might be able to evade my tracking spells,” Yagi said, with embarrassment. “But apparently not even the dark arts can evade Apple’s GPS system.”

“So that’s that.” Kate felt numb—that kind of blankness that you knew was probably going to hurt like hell the next day. “Victor’s dead, Maggie’s dead… case closed.”

“Come on,” Thomas said, scooping her up. “I’ll get you home.”

Kate cuddled into his chest. “I’m still pissed at you,” she muttered. “And I may really kill you next time.”

“You go right ahead,” Thomas humored her. “But in the meantime, get some sleep.”

She drifted off, about to pass out just as she heard Yagi’s voice.

“If Maggie’s dead,” he said, his voice curious, “where’s her body?”

Chapter Twenty-eight

The next morning, Thomas sat on the edge of the large bed in his condo at the Havens. Kate was still sleeping, her red hair tumbling across the slate blue pillows, her red lashes resting like fans on her pale peach cheeks.

She looked like she’d been through hell, he thought, stroking her hair absently. He knew how that felt.

He’d killed his first signatory and survived, soul still semi-intact… for the time being.

Maggie’s duplicity still shook him. He’d had such a blind spot about her, mostly hidden by guilt and her connection to Elizabeth. The sheer depth of her deception rocked him to his core. She’d been in bed with Cyril, for God’s sake. And she’d managed to pull it off here, in his own headquarters. Living in the sanctuary he’d built, the Havens.

He wondered, with a cold chill, who else he was trusting that he shouldn’t.

Yagi now had a personal vendetta against Cyril. It was bad enough that he’d been unable to track Victor. The fact that the enemy had been able to get so close to Thomas insulted his honor and his competence.

When he’d offered to waive a year’s worth of fees, Thomas hadn’t said no.

In the meantime, Kate’s behavior had been an eye opener. She’d betrayed him, too—or at least, she’d
tried
. But guilt and her own good nature had her not only confessing the whole thing, but going out of her way to save his dumb butt. Up to and including persuading a demon to bust him out of his prison cell, and basically yelling
come at me, bro!
to the man who had victimized and nearly killed her.

He smiled down at her sleeping face.
Damn, she is some amazing woman
.

He hadn’t been surprised that she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—kill him.

She turned over, sleepily, scrunching her face at the light coming in from the other room. Then she sat bolt upright.

“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “You’re okay.”

“What… what am I doing here?” She held the sheet for a second, her eyes wheeling.

“You were out like somebody hit you with a brick,” he said. “I figured I’d just keep you here, keep an eye on you.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. Then she pulled the sheet back a bit, sneaking a surreptitious peek.

“I was a perfect gentleman,” he protested, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Surely an amazing woman
.

“Last time I let you take me out to dinner.” She rubbed at her face. “Did I hear that Maggie’s body vanished?”

“Yagi’s not entirely sure she’s dead,” Thomas said, and Kate pulled her hands from her face, staring at him. “Anyway, one more thing to add to the list. But we got Victor; that’s the important thing.”

“Yeah.” She toyed with the sheet for a minute, her face pensive. “So… now what?”

He took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

She nodded. “I’m not going to lie; this whole thing is pretty weird,” she said. “I feel like I’ve been through more in the past two weeks than I have in the past twenty-nine years. But you of all people know, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. So I’m willing to look past it if you are.” She grinned. “Those bad guys aren’t going to kill themselves, you know.”

“Kate,” he interrupted, “I paid off your parents’ mortgage this morning.”

That had her full attention. “You
what
?”

“You were worried about it. I know you were, and maybe I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t want you to worry anymore.”

“Oh, shit.” Her mouth dropped open. “Now they’re going to
know
I slept with you!”

He chuckled. God, he was starting to become addicted to that smart mouth of hers. “I didn’t buy you a house because we slept together, Kate.”

“No, you bought me a house because I didn’t kill you.”

“That didn’t hurt,” he admitted. “But the bottom line is that I owe you. You got the short end of the stick, here, and I want to make amends.”

She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them.

He hadn’t really slept last night, thinking about this—thinking about what needed to be done. “I also don’t want you to have to worry about anything else. You don’t have to work for me, or be my assistant. I’ll make sure there’s a full protective detail on you and your family at all times, and I’ll still pay you your salary. But I want you to be safe, and do what makes you happy. And I know that working for a big corporation like Fiendish isn’t going to do that.”

He watched as she studied him, her green eyes bright. Then, slowly, she pushed the blanket aside. He’d left her in her underwear—it seemed more comfortable, he’d reasoned, than her suit—and he now forced himself not to stare at the black, lacy lingerie that stretched over that pale skin… .

He was totally unprepared when she gave him a sharp
thwap
upside the head.

“Ow! Damn it!” he snapped. “What was
that
for?”

“Tell me, do I look like the type of woman who wants a big strong man to buy her a house and send her off telling her not to worry her pretty little head about it?” She crossed her arms, inadvertently plumping her breasts up like display models. “Do I?”

“At the moment?” He leered with a slow grin. “Kinda.”

She tried to smack him again, but he ducked. “I’m in this, Thomas. You may regret that as we continue on—”

“Hell, I may regret it
now
,” he interrupted, rubbing his head.

She ignored him. “But the fact remains,
I am in this
. And that means I’m involved. No more mushroom treatment—kept in the dark and fed bullshit. You keep me in the loop, and together, we’ll take care of this.” She stuck out her hand. “Deal?”

He took her hand. It was soft, and warm, and firm. “Deal.”

They shook. Grinned companionably at each other.

Then seemed to both abruptly realize they were in his bedroom, and she was in her underwear.

“One more thing,” he said, reluctantly releasing her hand. “About that night. You know.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly, her eyes glowing a little. “About that.”

“You’re right. It was a mistake,” he said, even though every fiber in his being yelled
no, it wasn’t!
This would be a hell of a lot easier if she weren’t in some damned sexy underwear. “I won’t mention it if you won’t.”

She looked surprised. Then she looked away quickly. “Absolutely. Best thing for us to do.”

“It’s just a bad idea,” he said, not sure who he was trying to convince. “As you said, we’re both in this. We’ve both made mistakes…”

“We’ve both tried to set each other up to be killed,” she admitted.

“There is that,” he agreed. “But mostly, I think it’d be a bad idea for us to get… you know, involved.”

Because if anybody found out how much I already care about you, you’d be more of a target than you already are.

She nodded, then smiled.

And leaned over, planting one on him.

He held his hands up, then found himself holding her tightly, pulling her onto his lap like he had on the couch that fateful night they’d gotten together. Now, her lips were like molten silk, and for a second, he was overwhelmed, drowning in the sensation of her. He tangled his fingers in her hair and held her tight.

After what felt like an eternity—or, conversely, the world’s shortest minute—she pulled back, clambering off him, leaving him breathless and aching and confused.

“So, if you’re serious about this,” she rasped, “I guess that means that cheap, meaningless sex is also out.”

He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the fact his body had already gone into launch sequence. “Maybe we shouldn’t be hasty,” he croaked.

“No, you’re right.” She grinned, then winked at him over her shoulder before strutting her fine ass over to the master bathroom. “Well, then. Daylight’s burning. Let’s get down to business… boss.”

She shut the door.

He tugged his fingers through his hair. “Gonna be a long damned year,” he groused.

But when this year’s over
, he thought with a grin,
I’ve got your number, Kate O’Hara.

…

Later that morning, Kate found herself at the glassy expanse of her new desk.

She was outfitted in Fiendish Fashion, per Thomas’s request. But despite the dressy nature of the black jacket, she wore a sexy, loose red tank top beneath it, and black cargo pants, replete with pockets. Her black boots were the Fiendish version of Doc Martens, high and laced, with just enough heel to stomp someone. She was wearing her squared black glasses again, too, her red hair pulled into a high ponytail.

She looked like a cross between Emma Peel and Lara Croft.

Thomas’s eyes had popped wide when he got a load of her. Her body was still tuned up—and keenly disappointed—but she was grateful that he’d drawn the line. No business mixing with pleasure. Especially not with everything they had going on.

She thought of Victor and Maggie. And Slim. Her ardor cooled like she’d been dunked in an ice floe.

Nope. She was done fucking around. She was going to make it through this, help Thomas get his soul back. Get
her
soul back in the process.

And just get my life in order.

For the first time in a long time, she thought she was on the right track.

Her phone rang, and she answered it. “Kate O’Hara.”

“Hey,
chica
.”

Kate almost dropped the phone. “Prue? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Can I come up?”

“Here? To my office?” Kate asked. Then she paused. “I don’t know. Can you?”

Without turning into something weird and wanting to kill me?
she added silently.

“I think so,” Prue said. “That’s part of what I want to talk to you about, actually.”

“Sure. I’m on the thirty-second floor… come on up.”

She paced anxiously until Prue got there. When she did, all Kate wanted to do was hug her best friend, but after their last meeting, decided to be—pardon the pun—prudent.

Prue looked thinner than usual, and tired. But otherwise, she was wearing her usual—a batik halter top and some embroidered jeans with Japanese cotton print edging on the hems. Despite the fatigue, she still managed to look like a runway model.

Yagi accompanied her, to Kate’s surprise. “Thanks for showing me the way, Yagi-san,” Prue said.

Yagi smiled, executing a graceful bow, even as he stared at Prue like a starving man at a Krispy Kreme with the
Hot
sign on. “It was my pleasure,” he said, all but purring.

Kate, having seen this reaction to Prue before, rolled her eyes.

Prue ignored him—or tried to. She took a step toward Kate, only to have Yagi step in front of her.

“Please remember, if you have any questions whatsoever about Fiendish, or… what we discussed earlier,” he said smoothly. “Or if perhaps you are available for dinner—”

Prue did the black-woman-head-slide thing, shot him an
are you serious?
glare, then held up a hand. “Ninja,
please
.”

He sighed, then nodded, bowed again, and left.

“Wow. Obvious much?” Kate leaned against her desk, crossing her ankles and smirking. “Swear to God, Prue, you get more play than an Xbox.”

“That one? Puh-leese,” Prue said, shooting a quick glance at the ceiling. “I wouldn’t screw him with
your
hoo-hah.”

Kate grinned, and for a second, it was like nothing had changed between them.

Then Prue’s expression went tense, and she sighed.

“Seriously… is this okay?” Kate asked tentatively. “You don’t want to, um, kill me or anything, do you?”

“No,” Prue said slowly, but Kate sensed the hesitation. “Nan Temper made me a charm. And your buddy Yagi gave me a few pointers last night, when I met him.” She paused. “He’s… like me, it turns out.”

“What, Japanese?” Kate snorted. “There’s a shocker.”

“No, dummy,” Prue said, but her smile was easier, more relaxed. “He’s
onimyoji
. And, um,
kitsune
.”

“What’s
that
?”

“That,” Prue said, “is a long story.” She paused. “Which I’ll tell you. Over coffee.”

Kate brightened. “Starbucks?”

“Don’t push it,” Prue muttered.

Kate laughed, grabbing her messenger bag. “I’m glad you came back, Prue. I missed you.”

“Missed you too,
chica
.” Prue waited, and they headed for the elevator. “And I hate what you’re into, but I’m not going to let you figure your way out of it alone.”

Kate felt her chest warm.

“You sure you’ll stay working here while you do it, though?” Prue asked with distaste. “It’s so…
corporate
.”

Kate thought of Slim, and the Basement Boys. Thought about everything she’d been through.

Then she thought about Thomas.

And smiled.

“What the hell,” Kate said, hitting the button for the lobby. “It’s a living.”