Erik staggered up and stepped to the middle of the mat, where he and Gaia bowed to each other. Then Erik reached out and grasped her hand, shaking his head in amazement.
“I’ve fought some of the best guys in this city, and I’ve never had a fight like that,” Erik said with an impressed frown.
Gaia’s smile lit up the entire room, and Jake’s heart responded with another thump. But as quickly as the smile had come it was wiped away again, as if she’d caught herself doing something she wasn’t allowed to do and had corrected it as quickly as possible. She cleared her throat as Erik walked back to the bleachers and looked up at Jake expectantly.
“Anyone else?” she asked.
Jake didn’t even know what she was talking about. The words didn’t penetrate his brain. All he could see was that glistening skin. That glow in her eyes. The little notch in her shoulder that was exposed where his uniform—his uniform—slipped slightly to the left. His throat, his heart, his entire chest suddenly felt inexplicably full.
There would be no more denying it. He was falling for Gaia Moore.
“Jake?” Gaia prompted.
“Uh . . . somebody fight the girl, would ya?”
He was relieved when Greg Marshall finally got up and started to stretch. At least the attention was taken off him as the rest of the guys started to place bets on how long Greg might last.
Now that Jake knew what he wanted, he had to figure out what he was going to do next. Because Jake Montone was not the type of guy who ignored his urges and desires, who let them fester and stood on the sidelines and hoped and dreamed and fantasized. Once Jake knew what he wanted, he went after it, and usually he got it.
But Gaia Moore was an unusual case—a rare breed. This one would have to be approached with the utmost care. Jake smiled to himself as he watched her toss Greg Marshall over her shoulder like a salad. A protective athletic cup would probably be a good idea as well.
Mr. Elephant Stench
“LOOK, I’M NOT GENERALLY IN THE habit of . . . you know . . . wasting my time,” Brendan said in his thick Brooklyn accent. The thug Tatiana’s new bartender friend had hooked her up with had turned out to have a goatee, a serious leather fetish, and a gang of buddies who he claimed were willing to do anything she asked . . . for the right price. Patience, however, was not one of his virtues. He glanced at his big silver watch and then shook his arm until the timepiece disappeared under the cuff of his black leather jacket once again.
As she stood waiting for Gaia to leave the school building, Tatiana attempted a patient smile and bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue. Apparently he wasn’t in the habit of bathing, either—something that she had become acutely aware of in the hour and a half they’d been standing together, waiting for Gaia to make an appearance. Of all the things that her acquaintance with Gaia had forced her to do over the last three months, this little olfactory nightmare was the one that Tatiana would be least likely to forgive. “Just give it a few more minutes, okay?” Tatiana said in her sweetest voice, fluttering her eyelashes. “If you’re going to do a job, you might as well do it right.”
She laid her hand gently on his broad chest and trailed it down toward his waist slowly. Predictably, Brendan leered at her, showing the gap between his two front teeth, then returned his attention to the school.
If I ever actually have to kiss that, I’m definitely going to throw up, Tatiana thought. She sighed and rested her chin on her hand on top of the parking meter in front of her, training her eyes on the big metal doors across the way. Could she possibly have missed Gaia’s exit? Did she ever take another way out of the school? Over the past few months Tatiana’s most important assignment had been to learn each and every one of Gaia’s habits. If she had some other mode of escape from the Village School, Tatiana didn’t know about it, and that basically made her the worst spy of all time.
Suddenly the doors flew open and out walked Gaia with Jake Montone at her heels. Tatiana ducked down slightly while letting out a small sigh of relief. They both looked flushed and slightly sweaty, as if they’d just gotten out of gym class, but Tatiana happened to know that they had gym sixth period, which was over three hours ago.
“That’s her,” Tatiana said, even as her brain rushed ahead, searching for a possible explanation for Gaia’s and Jake’s disheveled appearance.
Tatiana bit her lip. They couldn’t have been . . . fooling around in there, could they? That would certainly explain the fact that their clothes had that just-thrown-on look and that they kept glancing at each other uncertainly, almost furtively. Their heads were bent closer together than was necessary, and Tatiana was almost certain she actually saw Gaia smile.
An unexpected twist of jealousy bored through Tatiana’s heart. Here she was, on the lam, in hiding with Mr. Elephant Stench, and Gaia had spent her afternoon rolling around in the reference section of the library with that hot piece of Italian ass. Could this situation be any more unfair?
“That girl?” Brendan said, pointing ever so conspicuously. “It’s too easy.”
“Don’t underestimate her,” Tatiana said under her breath, grabbing his hand and pulling it down. “She’s full of surprises.”
Jake laughed as he and Gaia rounded a corner, and Tatiana saw Gaia look up at him in surprise, with just a hint of pleasure in her eyes. There was definitely something going on between those two. Most likely, they were too moronic to notice it yet, but Tatiana knew, and that was all that mattered. Now she had her in. She wasn’t close with Jake by any means, but Tatiana was an expert at reading people, and she’d hung out with him enough to know how to play him. Jake was definitely a knight-in-shining-armor type. The kind that loved to help, to be the better man, to be honorable, if only to pump his own manly-man ego. If Tatiana could just get him to believe that she was a damsel in distress, he was all hers.
“Well, Natalie,” Brendan said, using the fake name she’d given herself, “this little job should not be a problem.”
“Like I said, don’t be so sure,” Tatiana warned, turning her full attention to Brendan now that Gaia was out of sight. “She’s an expert fighter, and when you kick her ass, I want it thoroughly kicked.” She stood up straight and adjusted the strap of her shoulder bag; then she looked him up and down quickly. He was big, but she had a feeling he was clumsy as well.
“You’d better bring a few friends,” she said.
JAKE
I’ve always been careful when it comes to girls. I don’t get why people go out and date whoever just to date. I don’t get guys who go out with girls just to fool around even if the girl has no brain and no interests and no personality. Those are the kind of guys that give the rest of us a bad name–that rep that all we care about is sex and seeing how far we can get a girl to go.
I’m into girls who have minds of their own. The kind of girl who has her own hobbies and her own friends and her own things she’s into doing. I’m into girls who are smart and can have real conversations, whether they’re about school or politics or football or movies or even fashion. As long as she has opinions about something, that’s what matters. I like a girl who can challenge me, who isn’t always there when I call, who has her own life. I like a girl who won’t take shit from anyone and who never backs down from an argument. I like a girl who’s strong.
That’s the word, I guess. Strong.
I’ve gone out with a couple of girls who came close to my ideal, but those relationships didn’t work out. They just sort of fizzled and died. I don’t know if it was me or them, but it just didn’t work.
But I’ve got to say, I’ve never gone out with a girl who embodied all of these things and could also kick my ass. Could be interesting.
so intoxicating
Jake was looking right through her carefully woven exterior directly into her emotions, and she didn’t even mind.
Permanent Fatal Error
“THIS CAN’T BE RIGHT. . . . THIS can’t be happening!” A hot sheen of perspiration covered Oliver’s
forehead, and he used an old, graying handkerchief to wipe it away. He was still weak, and his fruitless search was only making him feel weaker.
The computer screen cast the only light in the small, cold office on the top floor of his Brooklyn brownstone. He didn’t want the place to appear inhabited to the outside world. But the strain on his eyes had started up a headache hours earlier, and the longer he sat and stared at the glowing screen, the more his temples throbbed. He pulled up the collar on his thick wool sweater to cover his bare neck and shoved his dry, frigid hands under his arms.
The speakers let out another low beep and Oliver’s heart leapt hopefully. Maybe this time. He hit the open-mail icon, and a list of new messages popped up in front of him. Five new messages. All of them errors. Address unknown . . . permanent fatal error . . .
Oliver pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, watching the purple-and-red swirls caused by the pressure behind his eyelids. Where had all of Loki’s operatives disappeared to? Oliver was sure he had their e-mail handles right. Each and every one of them should have been sitting at their terminals or carrying their BlackBerrys, awaiting his return. No. Loki’s return.
Had they all just defected in the short time that Loki was away? Were his men so disloyal?
Whereas Loki might have felt angered by this flagrant lack of response, Oliver was still feeling relatively optimistic—he’d only just begun his search, and there were many stones still left unturned. And whereas Loki might have felt the need for a release to alleviate his stress, Oliver felt perfectly peaceful. Whereas Loki might have taken the coffee cup that was delicately perched on the saucer in front of him and thrown it across the room, Oliver gently lifted the cup to his mouth and calmly took a sip.
Just keep searching and eventually something will turn up, he told himself.
But with each passing moment Oliver was becoming increasingly more aware of how Loki might have reacted, and this gave him pause. It was only an awareness at this point, but it was an awareness that frightened him. As if any reminder of the old Loki behavior could incite temptation. As if Oliver could slip back into Loki at any time.
Even though he had awoken from his coma as Oliver Moore—a good person, a person who loved his country and his family, a person who would never hurt a fly unless he was forced—the atrocities he had committed as Loki were all slowly but surely coming back to him. Every person he’d killed and tortured, all the hurt he’d caused Gaia and Tom. Oliver had a good soul, but he also had the vivid memories of doing the most evil things possible, and in spite of all his remorse those memories made him feel powerful. And he liked that feeling. It was a feeling so intoxicating, it was difficult to resist.
But he had no choice. No choice but to resist.
All Oliver could do to get past those intense feelings was to focus. “Think of Gaia and Tom,” he said quietly, his slow breaths starting to work their magic on his racing pulse. His fantasy of throwing the coffee cup across the room or causing any more damage was quelled. He opened his eyes and got back to work. He deleted the error messages and started typing e-mails to the next ten operatives on his mental list. Helping Gaia and Tom, if he was still alive, was the only way he could make up for everything Loki had done. And he would make up for it.
No matter what it took.
Tomato, Garlic, and Basil
“YOU HAVE TO COME OVER FOR DINNER to celebrate,” Jake said, walking backward up Fifth Avenue and causing all the other pedestrians to sidestep around him.
“Celebrate what?” Gaia asked, with the trace of a smile. Ever since Jake had gotten on the mat at practice and pinned three guys in a row, he’d been exuding the bouncy energy of a five-year-old just released from a day in boring kindergarten. His green eyes were bright, he was sporting a constant grin, and there was a definite spring in his step.
“Celebrate the fact that we are going to make Central beg for mercy at that meet tomorrow!” Jake countered.
“We’ll see,” Gaia replied, pausing at the corner of Fourteenth to wait for the light to change. Rush hour had begun, and the four-lane road was packed with cars weaving in and out, jockeying for position. She didn’t want to think about the meet tomorrow. She knew that if she got the slightest lead about either Tatiana or her father before then, there was a good chance that she wouldn’t even be there. And then Jake would be little more than the next victim in the long line of people Gaia had let down.
“Come on!” Jake said, bending slightly at the knee. “My dad had the day off, which means early dinner, homemade sauce . . . freshly baked bread . . . mozzarella that melts in your mouth . . . .”
Gaia’s stomach grumbled loudly enough to be heard over the rushing traffic. “Your dad cooks?” she asked, raising her eyebrows as the Walk sign lit up.
“My dad creates,” Jake corrected her, starting across the street. “Don’t ever let him hear you reduce it to mere cooking.”
Gaia pondered this. She saw herself sitting down for an actual meal at an actual table. Saw herself sitting across from Jake, talking, maybe even laughing.
You need to get a clue, Gaia told herself, wanting to laugh over the datelike quality the scenario in her head had taken on. He’s offering you food, not some kind of dear-diary moment.
Which was good, considering she was not looking for a date and she would never keep a diary if her life depended on it.
“Say yes,” Jake said with a grin. “You won’t regret it, I swear.”
“Okay, I’m in,” Gaia said, trying to ignore the little flip her heart did over his smile.
“Cool. My dad loves company,” Jake said, turning down Fifteenth Street.
Gaia followed, wondering why it was that Jake was only mentioning his father. My dad had the day off . . . . My dad loves company . . . . But she knew better than to pry. Jake’s family life was none of her business. Besides, once you started asking a person about his life, he started asking you about yours, and she definitely didn’t want to go there.
Jake walked over to the glass doors of a swank-looking gray brick building, and the doorman jumped to welcome them.
“Evening, Mr. Montone,” the white-haired man said with a nod as he held open the door. “Miss,” he said, smiling kindly at Gaia.
“Evening, Rick,” Jake said.
They crossed a hushed, intricately tiled lobby to an elevator with mirrored doors. It opened the moment Jake pressed the button and ascended soundlessly to the seventeenth floor. Gaia was accosted by the vision of her ratty reflection in the foggy silver walls of the elevator. She made an attempt at smoothing down her hair and tried to straighten her clothes a bit. Jake’s father might be a company-lover, but she didn’t want him to think his son had picked her up off the street.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much she could do with herself before the elevator doors slid open again. She was just going to have to hope the man was blind or something.
As she and Jake got out of the elevator, Gaia’s mouth started to water like Pavlov’s dog at the heady scent that permeated the hallway. Nothing like the smell of tomato, garlic, and basil to get your appetite going.
“That’s him,” Jake said referring to the aromatic extravaganza created by his father. Jake pulled a large clump of keys out of his pocket and opened the door to apartment 17A.
“Dad! We’re home!” Jake called out.
The scents were even more intense inside, and Gaia suddenly felt weak with hunger. Jake led her into a large, comfortably decorated living room/dining room, where the table was already set for two. He tossed his book bag and jacket onto the couch, and Gaia shrugged off her things. Jake took them from her and laid them out neatly across an armchair. Gaia stifled a smile. If he knew what her stuff had been through, he wouldn’t have been so reverent about it.
“Who’s ‘we’?” a cheery male voice called out. It was followed by the appearance of Jake’s father himself, a tall, stocky man with a bit of a belly, who emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a half apron. His hair was
black but peppered with gray and receding at the temples. He looked at Gaia and grinned the most welcoming grin she’d ever been graced with.
“Hello!” he said.
“Hey,” Gaia replied, feeling suddenly shy. Why was it she could banter for days with evil thugs, but she went tongue-tied in the face of congeniality?
Allergic to nice . . .
“Dad, this is Gaia Moore. Gaia, Arturo Montone, M.D.,” Jake said.
“Nice to meet you, Gaia!” the man said, shaking her hand. “You’re a friend of Jake’s from school?”
“Yeah,” Jake replied. “She just joined the karate team.”
“Ah . . . a fighter!” Jake’s father said, impressed. “I like a girl who can take of herself.”
“Uh . . . thanks,” Gaia said, feeling it was her turn to speak.
“Well, I’ll grill you more over dinner,” Jake’s father said with a wink.
Great, Gaia thought sarcastically.
“He’s kidding,” Jake said.
Dr. Montone smiled as Gaia let out a breath. She wasn’t used to so much positive energy bombarding her like this.
“You sit,” Dr. Montone told her, unexpectedly reaching out to touch her arm. “Jake, get her a place setting! Dinner’s almost ready.”
He bustled back into the kitchen, and Jake pulled out a chair at the gleaming redwood table. Gaia stood there as Jake walked over to a hutch and removed a plate, a set of silverware, and a place mat. When he turned around again, he stopped in his tracks.
“That chair’s for you, you know,” he said, glancing at the seat he’d pulled out.
Gaia flushed, feeling like a moron, and sat down hard. How stupid was she? Did she think he’d pulled out the chair for fun? Because of some kind of weird OCD complex? Of course it was for her.
As Jake set the place in front of Gaia, she suddenly became hyperaware of her hands. She didn’t know where to put them. They went from the table to her lap to the arms of her chair and finally back to the table, where she folded them together awkwardly.
Chase Page 7
