Rosie interrupted her mother sitting down to watch a recording of “The View” with a glass of wine bottled at Black Swan Vineyards.
She was still red-faced from crying, eyes so puffy they were almost swollen shut. “You said he’d be proud of me. He’s not proud. He hates me. How could you be so wrong?”
Litha paused her show with the remote and pushed out a chair. “Sit down and tell me what happened.”
When Rosie was finished, Litha pulled the crystal she always wore around her neck out from under her blouse and clasped it. Appearing to talk to the air, she said, “You’d better get here right now and make things right with your granddaughter.”
Deliverance appeared and instantly took in the scene. Focusing on Litha, he said, “You rang?”
“Yes. I did. Look what you’ve done.” Litha waved a hand toward Rosie.
The demon cocked his head and took a long look. “Why does she look like that?”
“Because she’s been crying.”
“Why?”
Litha took in a deep breath coupled with a silent request to the gods for patience. “Because she thinks you’re unhappy with her!”
“Oh.” He looked at Rosie. “That.” He couldn’t quite manage a look of sheepishness, but he did at least leak a hint of regret.
“Yes. That.” Litha spoke to Rosie without turning away from Deliverance. “He was playing the little bit of you that’s human. Trying to make you feel guilty to see if he could extract a better deal out of you.”
Deliverance had the bad taste to grin like he was proud of it.
Rosie’s mouth fell open. “No. Way.” She looked at Deliverance like she’d never seen him before. “You wouldn’t do that to me.” A look of uncertainty flitted across her face. “Would you?”
Her tone of hurt and accusation would have pulled at the heartstrings of a psychologically healthy human, but Deliverance laughed. “Not unless we were in the middle of a deal. My precious treasure, apple of my eye, center of my universe, you know if you enter into negotiations with a demon all tactics are on the table.”
“Well, I guess I know it now,” Rosie said. “So you’re not mad at me.”
He chuckled and opened his arms for a hug. “Come here.”
“No. I’m mad at you now,” Rosie said in her best petulant voice.
“No. Not really.” With a shake of his head and a half grin, he pulled her up from the chair and enveloped her in arms too young and strong to belong to the grandfather of a grown woman.
“Tell her you’re sorry,” Litha said.
He gaped. “For what?”
“See?” Litha said to Rosie. “When it comes to your granddad and deals, never trust anything, be suspicious of everything.”
“I’m never making a deal with him again,” Rosie said resolutely as she pulled back from Deliverance. As an afterthought, she slapped at his chest.
“That’s wise,” Litha told her. “He always finds a way to get the upper hand.”
“Not with you,” he said to Litha, clearly proud as punch to make that claim about her.
Rosie sighed. “What a family.”
CHAPTER Ten ARE WE THERE YET?
“So can you contact these guys? You’ve met every one of them at some time or another. I checked. Please? It would be really helpful.” Rosie batted her lashes at Glen.
“That won’t help you here.” Glen was referring to the office of the Jefferson Unit Sovereign. “Got other things on my list.”
“Come on. It’s not like this isn’t Black Swan business.”
“It may be Black Swan business, but it’s not Jefferson Unit business. If you want help from the Sovereign of Black Swan, ask Simon.” Glen got up from behind his desk, strode quickly to Rosie, pulled her into a breathless newlywed-style kiss that would have her thinking about little else the rest of the day, and said, “Now get out of here. Please. I’m busy.”
“Glen…”
“Elora Rose. You’re looking at a person who has forgotten the meaning of ‘spare time’.”
“I know. I’m not saying you’re not busy. You are. Of course. And I respect that immensely. It’s just that, the future of D.I.T. could depend on this first step. And after this I’ll never ask for help again.” She crossed her heart.
When she saw him hesitate, she went in for the kill, thinking that she wished Deliverance could see her right then. She stepped into his body, leaned in so that her smiling lips were brushing the stubble on his jaw that he hadn’t had time to shave away, and said, “I’ve been reading about this blow job technique I’ve never tried.”
Glen erupted in a growl that was a borderline snarl, took her by the shoulders and pushed her so that she had to take a step back. With narrowed eyes, he said, “Rosie, your demon side is the least attractive thing about you because you feel like you have to win every argument.”
“That’s not fair. All wives want to win every argument.”
“That may be, but all wives won’t go to the lengths you will.”
Rosie smiled. “I don’t know. Maybe they would.”
He said, “Okay. I give up,” but the gleam in his eye looked more like victory than giving up. “If I’m going to lose this one, I might as well have fun doing it.”
He opened the office door and told the kid on duty, “Make sure nobody disturbs me.”
“Yes, sir.”
He locked the door and turned back looking pleased, smug, and… turned on.
When he started undoing his belt buckle, he said, “Payment up front.”
Rosie laughed. “You’re not a werewolf, Catch. You’re a devil.”
“I’m not.” He flashed a salacious grin the likes of which she hadn’t seen before. “I’m just married to one. Now get over here and make me glad about it.” On the spot her demon genes decided she liked this new side of Glen.
Before he went to bed, Glen had talked to every guy on Rosie’s list. All but one agreed to interview.
“See? I knew you were the only person for the job,” she said as she eased onto his lap and sucked his earlobe as she bit gently.
“Hmmm.” He smiled lazily. “I’m kind of sorry you don’t have more for me to do. I’m growing partial to negotiating with you.”
Her upper body shook with laughter. “Oh, yeah? You want me to find more for you to do?”
Setting her away from his lap, he stood. “Yeah. But not tonight. I’ve got to get back down to the office and catch up.”
“Awww.”
“There’s no cheating the clock, madam.”
“Don’t make me sorry I told you Grieve calls me that.”
Glen laughed as he closed the door behind him.
Rosie’s next four days were filled with a dizzying parade of talent lined up by Grieve to interview one right after another. She got the impression, by the way Glen inquired about the timing of Torn Finngarick’s interview, that he cared about the outcome. On the third day, she kissed Glen goodbye and said, “By the way, I’m interviewing Sir Finngarick today.”
“Oh?” he said, trying to sound casually disinterested, but she heard the truth behind the veneer.
“What is he to you?” she asked.
“Long story. And I don’t want my feelings to influence your decision.”
“Now you have me really curious.”
Glen shrugged. “Just… see what you think. If you hire him, your feelings for me shouldn’t be the reason why.”
“Okay. I get that. But why is it of interest to you?”
“Got to know him on a job once. He’s been a floater for a long time and it’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on anybody.”
She nodded. “Okay. I won’t press and I’ll tell you how it went tonight.”
When Finngarick came walking through the door, the air changed in the room. Rosie surmised that it was the sex demon part of her makeup recognizing that certain something that some people have; a spark or essence that demands attention, even from happily married women.
“Sir Finng
arick,” she said, motioning for him to sit down. It wasn’t a question. She knew who he was.
“Ms. Storm,” he replied in kind.
With a smile she said, “Commander Storm.”
She had to hand it to the fellow. Few guys would have the nerve to smirk at the person conducting an interview.
“Commander Storm,” he repeated, barely managing a respectful tone.
She cocked her head. “Was that hard to say?”
“What?” He grinned. “Callin’ you commander?” She nodded. “Truthfully?” She nodded again. “’Tis no’ that ‘twas hard so much as… silly.”
She stared for a few beats before bursting into laughter. The elf, correction, the sexy ass gorgeous elf, was right. It was silly. She’d been running around trying to establish her command by referring to herself as Commander, but the truth was that she hadn’t earned it and everybody knew it was pretend.
“So you say what you think.”
It was not a question but rather a statement thrown out for him to confirm or deny.
He nodded, looking around. “Most times. That a problem?”
“Truthfully?” He turned his attention back to her, smiled that she was throwing his question back to him, and nodded. “It could be. Yeah. Under certain circumstances. If you intend to speak your mind about whether you prefer scones or donuts, I don’t care. If you intend to argue with me about a command decision, that’s a no go.”
“Are you askin’?”
“Are you trying to be difficult?”
“No. No’ tryin’ to be difficult per se. Just lettin’ you know that I’ve seen a lot of active duty. I will no’ be taken advantage of. I will no’ be run over. I will no’ be used like a tool. Been there way too often. Done that enough for several lifetimes. Can I get a beer?” He was looking around again.
“Yes.” Rosie motioned to someone at the bar through the glass panel in the door that separated the room they occupied from the main part of the café. “Has anybody ever told you that throwing down a challenge is not the best interview strategy?”
His eyes came back to hers. “I’ve been with Black Swan since I was thirteen. This is my first interview. Up to now, they just tell me where I’m to go, who I’m goin’ with, and what I’m doin’ there. End of story.”
“I see.” She nodded. “So this is the first time you have a choice.”
She caught the tiniest hint of a jerk of his head. It was as if Finngarick hadn’t realized he actually had a choice. For the first time.
The bartender stuck his head in the room. “What kind of beer?” she asked Torn.
He looked over his shoulder. “Guinness Stout.” The bartender gave a single nod and closed the door. Looking back at Rosie, he said, “You mean… if I do no’ want what you’re offerin’…”
“If I’m offering.”
“Aye. If you offer and I have no interest, I can simply say no?”
“Absolutely. You’d just return to the duty you were serving. No hard feelings.” She wiggled her head. “Except on the part of my husband maybe.”
“Your husband?” He looked confused.
“Yes. You just talked to him. Are you implying you don’t know that I’m married to Glendennon Catch?”
Finngarick’s face split into a grin and he laughed. “You’re married to Glen?” His eyes drifted down Rosie’s body in a slow assessment that made her feel uncomfortable. “Well, what do you know?”
“I know he takes an interest in you.”
“Does he now?”
“Yes. He does. Do you take an interest in yourself?”
“Meanin’ what exactly?”
“Meaning that you’re not acting much like somebody who wants this job.”
He shrugged. “Truthfully?” She motioned for him to continue. “I’d want just about anythin’ that gets me out of what I’ve been doin’.”
“Badly enough to take orders from a woman?”
He raised his chin so that he was looking down his nose at Rosie with half-closed eyes. “Do you have some reason to think that’d be a problem for me?”
“Yes. And we both know what that reason is.” Rosie was referring to the incident that later had come to be known as the Battle for Jefferson Unit. Z Team, with whom Finngarick was serving at the time, refused to submit to Elora even though she was rightfully in command of the unit at the time. They ended up getting trapped in a lower level, leaving Elora and the older students to defend the premises.
“’Twas a mistake. And ‘twas a big one.” He lowered his gaze. “But we paid for it. Two of my teammates ended up leavin’ service because of that incident.” He paused for a second and looked out the window. “We all came to understand that our behavior was shameful.”
“If you’re saying it was a lesson well learned, I’ll accept that. But you still haven’t answered the question. So I’ll ask again. Would you have a problem taking orders from a woman?”
He looked Rosie in the eye and said, “No.”
“What about working with women? Would you have a problem being assigned a woman as a teammate?”
“No’ unless that would mean that I’d be lookin’ after my ass and hers, too.”
Rosie’s eyes narrowed. “You mean you don’t make a habit of looking out for teammates?”
He flushed. “No. Of course I do. I just meant that…”
“Yes?”
The bartender breezed in and set a pint of stout down in front of Torn. “Will ye be needin’ anythin’, missus?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Right now I’d bleed Earl Grey if you cut me.”
He chuckled. “Charmin’ image.” He closed the door behind him.
“Look. Finngarick. If there’s a problem working for or with women, stop dancing around it. The time to get it out in the open is now. Not when life and death depends on following orders.”
He took a sip and set the mug down. “I want to answer honestly. I’ve never lived with a woman. No’ in memory. E’en in childhood, it was just my da and me, such as that was. From thirteen on, I’ve lived and worked with men.”
“You engage women socially though.”
He laughed out loud. “That I do.”
“Do you, um, think of women as inferior?”
“No’ so much that. I just do no’ think of women in the kinds of situations my work finds me in. Except for that one time, it has no’ come up.”
“In other words, you think women are good for one thing?”
He flushed again, his Irish coloring betraying every emotion. “You’re puttin’ words in my mouth.”
“Well, women do that. It’s annoying, isn’t it?”
“Are you tryin’ to be annoyin’?”
“What if I am?”
“Well.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared while he thought that over. After a couple of beats, he offered a sheepish smile that was charming coming from such a hardened and jaded persona. “I suppose that would make it easier for me to relate to you.”
Rosie laughed. “Women are not as different from you as you think.”
He shook his head. “I can no’ let that go without argument, but if you’re offerin’ to take me out of rotation as a floater, I’ll give a genuine effort.”
“You’ll think before you act?”
“Aye. Do my best.”
“You’ll think before you speak?”
He drew in a big breath, took a gulp of stout, and slammed it down. “Aye. But you do no’ know what you’re askin’.”
“Alright, Finngarick. I’m going to put you in the lineup. Give you a try. Your record as an employee makes shit look respectable. But your record as a vampire hunter is, well, impressive.”
He ducked his head, looking almost embarrassed to be praised. It seemed he didn’t hear good things often. He also seemed to be at a loss for words.
“It would be customary when being offered a job you want to say thank you.”
He cleared his throat. “Em, thank you, Comman…�
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“Do not finish that sentence!” He looked confused. “I’m a reasonable woman, not above hearing valuable criticism. It so happens that I agree that the choice of ‘Commander’ for a title is silly. I’ll have to think of something else.”
He cocked his head. “What were the other possibilities?”
“Sheriff.” He almost spit out the drink he’d taken and black stout on his light blue shirt would not have been pretty. “Yeah,” she agreed. “That was the conclusion I came to. I hesitate to mention the other.”
“Come on.”
“Commissioner.” She saw that Finngarick was battling to hide a smile and losing.
“Like Batman?”
She felt an instant kinship that he knew that was where she’d come up with the term. “How did you know?”
“You strike me as a DC kind of girl.”
“Wow.”
“Chief.”
“What?”
“Throwin’ my suggestion into the box. I like Chief.”
She repeated it. “Chief. Hmmm. Not bad. I might shop it around. If it causes people to spit beer…”
“I did no’ spit beer.”
“Almost spit beer,” she corrected, “then it goes to the shredder with the rest. But if it passes the smile test, it could be a keeper.”
“Glad to be of help.”
She looked at her watch. “So let’s hear your questions about the job.”
“Well, what would I be doin’?”
Rosie had to laugh again. Glen had called the names on her list and talked them into interviewing for a job without knowing what it was. Gotta love him.
“Did he even tell you the name of the unit?”
“No.”
“In this case, ‘what’s in a name’ will tell you a lot. It’s D.I.T. Department of Interdimensional Trespass.”
She spent the next half hour getting Finngarick up to speed on what they were trying to accomplish. The longer they talked the more engaged he became until, at the end, he seemed almost excited. There was a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there when he’d walked in. And when he left, she thought he might have been standing a little taller. His gait and the way his body moved was more graceful and relaxed. She found herself hoping it was a good fit. For his sake.
Finngarick (Order of the Black Swan, D.I.T. Book 2) Page 13
