Temping is Hell

by Cathy Yardley

  She looked taken aback, and he realized he could have sounded a touch less cheerful about that. “Oh,” she said, the blush intensifying with embarrassment. “Well, I still think we can keep it business more easily if we stay in the building. We can just work here, or your office. Even a conference room.”

  He saw his plans—and Yagi’s carefully created trap—start to jump the rails. “I really want to go to this restaurant, though.”

  “I’ll book you a reservation,” she said. “Maybe you could bring a date.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’ve got to find a new place to live. Tonight’s not good.”

  “Kate,” he finally said. “I know you’re used to doing your own thing, your own way. But this one’s an order, okay?”

  She looked startled. Then he saw a quick flash of something in her eyes.

  “Okay,” she relented. “You’re the boss, right?”

  He sighed. “I’ll have the limo driver get us at six forty-five, down in the parking garage,” he said. “See you then.”

  He retreated before she could say anything to make him feel guiltier. I’ll make it up to her, he thought.

  Assuming she survived, anyway.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chez Panisse was just as beautiful as she’d remembered it, with its clean architectural details and graceful décor. She had been here once before, on a date with… that guy with all the food allergies, she realized. She couldn’t remember his name. She only remembered that it was a real pity that such a wonderful place, such a wonderful date, was being ruined because of the guy she was with.

  She glanced over at Thomas, who looked gorgeous and sexy and sophisticated.

  Déjà vu, all over again, she thought. Only this time, the guy was trying to get her killed.

  And unfortunately, vice versa.

  “Thanks for taking me out to dinner,” Kate said, after a long, silent minute.

  “Thanks for letting me,” Thomas said, smiling. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, she noticed—it seemed like she’d been studying his face long enough to know when he was being genuine, and when he was just selling something.

  As far as she knew, all he was doing was selling her out.

  “This is weird, isn’t it?” he asked, surprising her. “This was what you were afraid of, when I asked you here.”

  “What? Well, yes.” She took a sip of wine, glancing around. She wondered how Cyril was planning to grab him. And how she was going to protect herself—despite Cyril’s assurances, she wasn’t born yesterday.

  She imagined he fully intended for her to be a victim of friendly fire.

  “Don’t worry,” Thomas said, interrupting her dark thoughts. “There aren’t any reporters. I made sure of it.”

  “That’s good.” She hadn’t even thought about reporters. She’d been too intent on finding out the security company that Yagi used in the main database, using Maggie’s password. The woman had access to a lot of things, surprisingly… although maybe not surprisingly, since she apparently never used her frickin’ computer. She imagined Maggie bitching for “top secret clearance” or something, and Thomas giving her access just to shut her up.

  Boy, is he going to regret that decision.

  They ate in silence—he was having a fall roasted root vegetable medley with braised lamb, she was having a grilled duck breast with kumquats and star anise—and she felt the tension between them drawing out like a sword from its sheathe.

  “Dessert?” he asked after the server took away their barely touched plates with a look of concern.

  “No.” Where was Cyril, anyway? The anticipation was making her sick to her stomach. She glanced at the clock on her phone—eight p.m. No calls or texts—no warnings or anything, she realized, scrolling through the call log. And the only calls out were the one she’d made to Cyril… and the next one, her long voice-mail message to Prue.

  Prue might not be talking to her, but she prayed that Prue would at least listen to it, just in case this whole thing went south.

  Thomas reached over and took her hand, surprising her. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  She blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know why we’re here,” he said, and his blue eyes were almost incandescent in their intensity. “I know you’re not stupid. I know you figured it out, and I’m sorry.”

  “You mean, I figured out the whole use-Kate-as-psycho-bait thing you concocted? You’re doing what you have to do,” she demurred. “You’re looking out for yourself.”

  And so am I. She pulled her hand away.

  “I’m looking out for both of us.” He glanced around, dropping his voice. “Listen, if I don’t get my soul back, you’re going right along to Hell with me. You realize that.”

  “And if I die before you, you just absorb my soul, or something,” she hissed back. “Which means if you get your soul back, goody for you. I’m still screwed, and probably in Hell.”

  “I won’t let you get hurt.”

  “Don’t you think that ought to be my decision?” she snapped. “I’m your employee, not your lackey, and not your property!”

  The waiter cleared his throat, interrupting them with wide eyes. “We’ve got some lovely dessert specials…”

  “She’ll take whatever’s chocolate,” Thomas said. “I’ll have coffee and a brandy.”

  Kate grimaced at him. “Don’t order for me,” she snarled.

  The waiter looked at her expectantly. She realized she hadn’t even glanced at the menu—and chocolate was her favorite Prozac substitute.

  “Yeah, whatever’s chocolate,” she admitted, glaring at Thomas. Thomas’s eyes flashed for a second with amusement. The waiter looked startled, but quickly scurried away.

  “I can’t guarantee it,” Thomas said. “But it’s a calculated risk.”

  “Easy one to take when it’s not your life on the line.” Kate took a long, bracing sip of wine.

  “Kate, what am I supposed to do?”

  Dammit, even his scowl was handsome.

  “You want me to sit around and wait for my contract to vest? Just let that bastard go ahead and control me—after all he’s done?”

  “No, of course not,” Kate said. “But do you really think that you trying to control me is better?”

  He went silent.

  She leaned forward. “I don’t see this as a fighting fire with fire thing. I see this as a using me to get what you need thing. Maybe if you’d asked me, this would be different. Maybe if you’d seen me as anything other than a pawn to achieve your objectives. And after…” She paused, choking on the words. “After the other night, I just thought maybe I deserved more consideration than a stupid ‘why don’t you come out to dinner—so I can tell the man who mangled you he’s got another shot at it.’”

  Thomas sighed. “I’m the boss here,” he said, but he sounded more tired than offended. “I’m used to making executive decisions.”

  “Yeah, and I’m a secretary,” she fired back. “I’m used to shit rolling downhill.”

  His eyes flashed. “Listen, you need to trust me, or this isn’t going to work.”

  “You need to show me I can trust you,” she said, “or this isn’t going to work.”

  She started to get up, and he put his hand on hers. “I promise,” he said, softly. “I won’t let him take you. I won’t let anything happen to you. If I have to die to make sure of it, then I will.”

  She stared for a long moment. This wasn’t his “selling” voice. He sounded like he really meant it.

  Slowly, she sat back down. “You either believe that,” she said slowly, “or you’re an even better actor than I realized.”

  He sighed, falling silent as the waiter served her dessert and the coffee. “You’ve been screwed over a lot in your life, haven’t you?”

  She shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m not the best judge of character,” she hedged. “My own fault, really… t
rusting people who have a talent for finding trouble and dragging me along.”

  “Maybe you should tell me about it.”

  She bit her lip, guilt gnawing at her. Thomas had said he would give up his life to protect her. What if he meant it?

  Was she really going to be able to go through with this?

  You’re sending him to his death.

  She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. We have to go.”

  “Sorry for what?” he asked. “And we can’t go. I mean, I’m sorry, but—”

  “No, Thomas. We have to go now.” She took a deep breath. “I set you up, understand? We need to get you out of here.”

  Now she had his full attention. “What do you mean?”

  “Cyril Roman approached me,” she said, and saw his face turn into a frozen mask of fury. “He told me he’d kill you for me. He said he’d get me out of my contract, get me my soul back.”

  “He lied.” Thomas’s voice was low, but he got to his feet, grabbing her arm. She fought the urge to tug away as he rushed them toward the exit.

  “Yeah, well, you lied, too, pal,” she said, but still felt like a little kid, being defensive.

  “No—in this case, he lied. He doesn’t want me dead. He wants my soul, and if I die before the vesting period, he gets nothing,” Thomas said, his words low and choppy. With his other hand, he was texting furiously, probably letting Yagi know about her betrayal. “And you can’t get your soul back if I die.”

  “What?” She felt her stomach knot, and what little food she’d eaten danced the jitterbug.

  “You can only get your soul back if you kill me.” His smile was wintry. “Damn it, Kate. I trusted you.”

  “No, you really didn’t,” she shot back. “So don’t pin this all on me. You would’ve hung me out to dry. You didn’t talk to me. I was protecting myself.”

  She started to walk out the door, then growled at him when he yanked her back.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I warned you just now,” she hissed. “I didn’t have to. Yes, I betrayed you, but at least I manned up and fixed it before he got here, which is more than I can say for you. So get off your high horse and let go of my goddamned arm, before I do figure out a way to kill you.”

  His face was stern. “You’re not going anywhere until we talk this out,” he snapped, as the limo pulled up. “Come on. Get in.”

  “Fine.” He wanted to talk? She’d give him an earful.

  He followed her into the vehicle, slamming the door behind him. “The Havens,” he said, then turned to Kate. “You should have told me the minute Cyril approached you. From now on—”

  “From now on?” she interrupted, laughing. “What makes you think I’m still working for you, boss? I told you about it because I felt guilty and, despite what you might think, I’m a fuck up, not an evil bitch. I didn’t want you to die. And don’t feed me that line that you’d throw yourself in front of a bullet to save me, because that is total and complete bullshit.”

  “Oh, really?” He was yelling now—and he never yelled, from what she could tell. His eyes shone like blow torches. “How do you know that, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Because if you really wanted to put my needs before yours, you’d let me kill you!”

  “Are you shitting me?” He threw his hands in the air, high enough to hit the car roof. “That is the stupidest argument I have ever heard!”

  The opaque privacy screen between the driver and the backseat lowered. “Now, now, kids,” a voice purred. “Let’s use our inside voices.”

  Kate turned to yell at the driver, only to notice he wasn’t one of the usual ones.

  The driver, she realized with a chill, was Victor Klauss.

  There were two short, sharp sounds. Pfft! Pfft! Kate looked to see a feathered dart sticking out of Thomas’s chest, right through his white shirt. She saw a similar dart, stuck in her chest.

  Then she looked at the woman who had shot the tranquilizer gun and was currently putting it back in her purse. Kate’s eyes narrowed.

  Then the woman pulled out a cherry red iPhone. “It’s done,” she said into it, sounding smug.

  “I knew it,” Kate slurred. “Knew you weren’t dead. Maggie.”

  …

  Thomas woke up groggy and sore… and pissed.

  Betrayed. He’d been betrayed.

  Just like Cyril had screwed with him. Only this time, it felt somehow worse.

  “Damn it. Thomas! Wake up!”

  He glanced around, getting his bearings. It was just him and Kate. They appeared to be in a cinderblock cell, a little room—no furniture, no window, just a hanging naked bulb and a strong steel door. Kate was standing there, looking worse for wear, her black skirt dirty, her feet bare.

  Then the memories came back. The limo. The shots.

  Kate’s little confession.

  “Kate,” he snarled, then got to his feet, murder in his heart. “You set me up. How do I know you didn’t plan all this?”

  “Because hello, I’m in here with you? Be pissed later,” she snapped. “We’ve got bigger problems right now. Like, I don’t know, getting the fuck out of here.” She tried the door. “Do you know how to pick a lock?”

  He grabbed her wrist, hard. “You set me up.”

  She glared at him, yanking her arm away and shoving him. “Do you really want to get into a moral high ground discussion?”

  “Yeah, I set you up,” he admitted. “But the difference is I would have kept you safe.”

  “Obviously.” She rolled her eyes. “How’s that working out?”

  “There was no other way!”

  “Really? Really?” she said, getting into his face. “Just how hard did you try before Yagi convinced you that this was the easiest way? Did he even say that he could guarantee I’d be safe?”

  Thomas paused, some of his righteous anger getting side-swiped by guilt.

  “Yagi’s a pro. He’s not going to get personal with an animal that’s going to get slaughtered,” she said. “Frankly, most bosses I’ve worked for would be more than happy to stay in denial and pretend that everything’s going to be okay, and then blame the people beneath them if things go fucking sideways.”

  “You set me up,” he repeated tenaciously.

  “Yes, I did,” she hissed. “Because if it’s you or me, then it’s going to be me, pal. I’m tired of taking the fall for assholes who only care about themselves no matter what they say to the contrary, got it?”

  That took some of the wind out of his sails. “Well,” he blustered. “Damn it. So why did you warn me at all?”

  “Because I am the biggest idiot on the face of the planet, with serious impulse control issues!” she yelled. “Now are you going to help me get out of here or not?”

  He blinked. “You are a roller coaster, you know that?”

  “Yeah, well. Wheee,” she muttered. “If I’d known I had to kill you myself, this would’ve worked out a lot differently, believe me. Now, I’m probably just as pissed at Cyril as I am at you, so let’s get this figured out and deal with our little drama when I’m not worried that a psycho is going to break every bone in my body with a ball peen hammer. Again.”

  He heard the fear, a note of hysteria in her otherwise furious voice.

  Of course she was scared. He’d asked her to trust him without giving her any reason why she should. She’d seen how he treated her friends—demons, yeah, but for whatever reason, they were people to her, people she related to.

  She’d cared about people nobody cared about.

  Hell, she’d even cared about him—when he’d really done nothing to deserve it.

  And she’d tried to fix her mistake. Tried to stop the kidnapping, and had gotten herself here.

  “I’m sorry,” he said finally, as it all sank in.

  “Again! Not the time!” she yelled. Then, in frustration, she started pounding at the door. “Damn it! Damn it!”

  Tears were leaking from the corners o
f her eyes. He reached out, stroking her shoulder.

  She turned on him like a cornered bear. “Do not touch me right now!”

  The last of his anger dissipated in the face of her panic. “I don’t blame you.”

  “Bully for you,” she said, and looked shocked when a sob emerged. “I swear, if we get out of this, I am killing you myself, you hear me?”

  “When we get out of this,” he murmured, stroking a curl away from her face, “I’ll let you.”

  “Yeah, right,” she muttered, knuckling away at the tears.

  He looked at her, really looked at her. Her red hair tumbled around her shoulders. She was dirty, and disheveled, and defiant. She looked fiery and beautiful. She was possibly the most courageous woman he’d ever met.

  He wanted to take her in his arms, apologize. He’d screwed this up. But he’d do it after he figured a way out of this. After he saved her.

  She leaned her forehead against the door. “After this job,” she muttered, “I am never working for big corporate again, I can tell you that right now.”

  He let out a dry chuckle. She always surprised him. Always.

  The door opened, and he stepped in front of her, his fists up… only to have them fall limply to his sides.

  “Maggie?” he breathed. “But… wait. How? You were dead. I saw your body.”

  “You saw a body,” she said, that catlike smile familiar. “Well, to be totally technical, you saw a construct. Considering it landed with a splat, it didn’t even have to look that much like me at all.”

  “A… construct?” he repeated, baffled.

  “You had a demon jump for you?” Kate asked, sounding appalled.

  “No, no. Just a lifeless construct.” Maggie’s eyes gleamed. “I know more about demons than you realize, Thomas. More about a lot of things. I was smart enough to sleep with a limo driver—who didn’t see it coming when I walked up to the car and killed him to get to you.”

  Thomas stared at her, aghast.

  “Remember what I told you?” Maggie’s smile was vicious. “I’m not that dumb.”

  Victor entered the room, and Kate stumbled back, her eyes wide with horror. Thomas quickly stepped between them, putting his body in front of Kate like a shield. Maggie noticed the protective gesture, and her expression turned vicious.