Her face softens, and she releases him. “I like you, hon. I really do. Wouldn’t be here, if I didn’t. And I don’t want to see you end up dead. But this is bigger than either one of us. I don’t know how high it goes, and I don’t want to.” She shakes her head, pitying him. “I came here to help. I figured, what the hell? I’m up for retirement. I can take my pension and leave if the bureau decides to smack me on desk duty. But this… this isn’t something I can be involved in. And trust me, no one else is going to touch you now. I’m your one chance. Then you’re on your own.”
His entire body slumps. The way his shoulders bow down makes my chest squeeze.
“It’s not right, El,” he says.
“It’s downright disgusting, that’s what it is.” She looks like she wants to spit something foul out of her mouth. “Look, if you can’t come now, then just… get out of town and stay low. Let it blow over. Then maybe, after things settle, I can bring you in and get you transferred to New Mexico or something. You can do some slash work for the bureau there. Just keep your mouth shut and move on.”
“I can’t do that, either.” He’s shaking his head, like he still can’t believe it.
She sighs. “I was afraid you would say that.” Her mouth works, like she wants to say something more, but instead, she just pats his arm. “Take care, Zach.”
He gives her a single nod.
Eleanor ducks her head and strides toward the roll-up door of the warehouse. There’s a side door that lets in the smog-filtered Sacramento sunshine when she slips out.
Zachariel keeps his back to us for a long moment. When he turns, his face is set: emotionless and calm. I don’t know what to say—he’s finally gotten free of Gehenna only to find the bureau has stabbed him in the back, his chance to start over new somewhere else just walked out the door, and instead of taking that option, he’s staying to help us stop this horrible thing from happening.
I don’t have words for that. So I just walk over and hug him. He holds me firm and buries his face in my free-flowing hair. He stays there a while. When he pulls back, he doesn’t entirely let me go, just sort of holds me in a soft embrace. I get the feeling that, in that moment, I’m his anchor—something for him to hold onto while he processes all of it.
After a few seconds of quiet, he peers into my eyes, and says, “Looks like Option Three is off the table. I’m sorry about that, Wraith. I thought it was a real possibility.”
I give him a smile. “Good thing we still have Option Two.”
He returns the smile, but it’s weak. Then he releases me and nods to Wyatt, who’s watching us from where I left him, a half dozen feet away. His expression is tight with concern, but at least he’s not glowering anymore.
“Looks like the ball is in your court, Wyatt.”
He nods. “Give me a few minutes to call in some favors.” He rapidly taps up his palm screen and turns away while he seeks out the contacts who can connect us with InTense.
I give Zachariel’s arm a small squeeze. “Just so you know, that third option was attractive, even if I wasn’t going to take it.”
Zachariel gives me a heart-breakingly small smile. “Can’t fault a guy for wanting you to run away with him.” Then his brow wrinkles up as he watches Wyatt on his palm phone, talking in hushed tones to someone. “He calls you Lexy.”
I lift my eyebrows. “I have an excess of names, obviously. I’m considering getting rid of a few.”
He nods, but I don’t think it’s about the pet name. “You two are a thing, aren’t you?”
I twist around to scowl at Wyatt. “I’m pretty sure he hates me.”
Zachariel snorts a laugh. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t.”
The way my heart lurches when he says that stirs around feelings I don’t have time for right now. “It was complicated before I was a debt collector. I don’t know what we are now.”
Then Zachariel takes me by the shoulders and peers intently into my eyes. “If he’s an asshole to you, please let me know. I’d be happy to take care of that.”
I grin. “What are you now, my big brother?”
He dips his head close to mine, so his words are just for me. “Or your jealous lover. Take your pick. It’s up to you.”
He pulls back, and I hear Wyatt’s hard-soled shoes approaching behind me. When I turn, I can tell he’s taking in the near-embrace that Zachariel and I are still in, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t let it reach his face.
“We’ve got an appointment in Silicon Valley at two,” he says, his tone all-business.
“Then we better get moving,” Zachariel says, releasing his hold on my shoulders and dropping into business-mode as well. “It’s a bit of a drive.”
Wyatt nods his agreement and holds out his hand for Zachariel to lead the way. The three of us take the back exit from the shop, with hardly a glare or a foul-mooded-look between us. Wyatt and Zachariel couldn’t be more different—although, in some ways, I’m realizing they’re very much the same. Idealistic. Driven. Perhaps that’s why they annoy each other so much. Or maybe Zachariel is right, and it’s jealousy. I try to ignore the tight clench that puts on my stomach. But whatever personal issues the two of them may have with each other—or with me—neither is going to let that get in the way of stopping Gehenna.
And for that, I think I may love them both.
Wyatt leads the way through the lobby doors of Quarry, Inc., the data-mining company in Silicon Valley where his college friend works—as does InTense, apparently. On the way over, Wyatt briefed Zachariel and me on the details, as well as our cover: InTense is the Chief Technology Officer, Wyatt’s friend is a mid-level tech employee, Zachariel and I will be posing as a startup founders. Apparently, it’s an open secret that the CTO is legendary slasher InTense, as well as the fact that he funds promising startups on the side. Wyatt’s friend has arranged for us to have a five minute pitch session with InTense, whose real name is Rifton Mark.
The entrance to Quarry, Inc. is two stories high and glitters with tech. Giant holo-screens dot the perimeter, an artistic rendering of the grid in wire and blue lights sits in the center, and the glass ceiling looming overhead is shaped like a vortex made of steel and blue glass. It lets in the natural California sunshine, but it makes me dizzy when I look up.
“What is your friend getting in exchange for arranging the meetup?” I ask Wyatt as we stride across the lobby. I’m only mildly curious, but it might be relevant in maintaining cover.
“Lunch,” Wyatt says, keeping his voice low.
His gaze is fixed on the security scanners we’re heading toward, which makes me flash a pointed look to Zachariel. As far as I know, he’s still carrying the gun Jax gave him. He nods and halts our progress with a touch on Wyatt’s elbow.
“I might have something that will set those off,” Zachariel says quietly, turning his back on the security guards stationed at the weapons arch.
“I think it will be all right,” Wyatt says, looking past him. “My friend will get us through.” He raises his hand to wave at someone by security. A blond woman waves back and swipes through a gate to the side of the security arch. She strides toward us, all smiles and sparkling eyes for Wyatt. He’s smiling back and stepping across the expanse of the granite-floored lobby to meet her.
Zachariel lifts an eyebrow in my direction, which I ignore, striding after Wyatt and putting on my game face for this supposed pitch we’re making to one of the top tech officers in Silicon Valley. The fact that Wyatt’s friend is gorgeous, perky, and wearing hip-hugging jeans and a snug t-shirt that gives her a tech-is-for-hot-people vibe is completely irrelevant. I keep my polite smile even when her enthusiastic hug for Wyatt goes a little too long. The lunch she’s getting in return takes on a new light. I tell myself she’s doing us a favor, and keeping cover is important, and… I’m a little embarrassed by the flush that’s creeping up on my face. It’s not like this is any different than the response he gets from almost every woman at Sterling Cybernetics, from the exec su
ite to the lab. They’re always drooling after him and his sky-blue eyes. Since when am I jealous of the copious amounts of female attention that Wyatt garners?
Since he entered your realm of possibilities.
That thought hits me like smacking into a glass wall. I work hard to keep the shock off my face. Wyatt’s friend finally draws back from their hug and sneaks a little kiss on the cheek on the way. My insides squirm with even that small, ostensibly innocent display. I’m chastising myself in my head—I have no right to be jealous. No claim at all on Wyatt. Even his friendship is seriously in question, now that I’m a debt collector and dragging him through the muck of my world. Whatever this… reaction is, needs to stop. Now.
The heat in my face isn’t obeying my commands to cease and desist.
I suck in a breath through my clenched teeth and smile my way through the introductions. Her name is Samantha, and she’s incredibly excited for us and our new startup and so pleased she can connect us with Rifton. That she glows even more when talking about the CTO than when she was hugging Wyatt gives me small consolation.
I realize how messed up that is.
I do my best to stuff all these mixed-up feelings and inappropriate reactions into a very small box marked, Open When Everything Is Over.
Samantha gets us through security with a wave and a smile, and Wyatt is right: we bypass the weapons arch and use the employee entrance. I breathe a silent sigh of relief as we step into the elevator.
When it’s just the four of us, Samantha drops her voice and says to Zachariel, “So, can you tell me about your startup tech? Or is it hush hush? I assumed you didn’t want to sign in downstairs, you know, in case you’re hunting other investors as well.”
“We appreciate that more than you know,” Zachariel says. I let him do the talking, since he’s the slasher among us, and opening my mouth is probably just going to blow our cover. “But I’m afraid we can’t talk tech yet. Don’t want investors to think it’s loose on the street—you know how it is.”
“Oh sure,” she says with a smirk. “I understand. But you know Rifton’s going to want to hear everything, right?”
Zachariel shrugs one shoulder. “Of course. We’ve been honing our pitch. We’ll have him hooked in five, but don’t be surprised if we’re not out of there for a half hour. Once he hears what we’ve got, I’m sure he’ll want more.”
I make a mental note to never underestimate Zachariel—he’s already laying the foundation for our interrogation of InTense to take more than our allotted five minutes.
Wyatt’s giving me slightly wide-eyed looks. Probably because I’m keeping my distance from them, even within the tight confines of the elevator, as well as staying unnaturally quiet. I decide I better speak up.
“This is a great opportunity you’ve scored for us,” I say to Samantha. “We really appreciate it. Trust me, we’re not going to let it go to waste.”
She smiles, and it seems genuine. “My pleasure.” Then she favors Wyatt with another sparkling look. “Wyatt speaks very highly of you two. If he’s impressed, I’m sure you’ll do great.”
That clams me up again. Because I know Wyatt’s far from impressed with me, in any sense of that word. But he takes it in stride as the elevator whizzes us to the top floors.
“I do appreciate this, Sam,” he says with that winning smile of his. “If this goes through, I’ll owe you a lot more than lunch.”
My stomach churns with the delight that brings to Samantha’s face.
“Maybe your friends will need a few good data miners for their new startup,” she says with a grin. “InTense isn’t the only slasher around here, by far. I’m sure I could hook you up with a few prospects looking to get into a project that the CTO’s funding on the side.”
Zachariel looks up from his casual check of his palm screen. “Thanks. We just might take you up on that offer.”
He and Wyatt are both doing a great job of looking normal, while I’m struggling to keep focused on our mission. I pull in a calming breath and finally manage to affect a confident appearance as the doors slide open. Samantha walks us past the cubicles and shining glass doors of the executive suite to an office at the end of the floor. A receptionist stands guard, but Samantha is our ticket in, having already arranged the meetup with the CTO. I glance at my palm: we’re right on time.
Only Rifton Mark has no idea what’s about to walk in his office.
Samantha wants to make the introduction, but a shake of Zachariel’s head has Wyatt convincing her in soft tones and a squeeze of her hand that the three of us need to go it alone. I’ve got my wildly-inappropriate jealousy-reflex under control enough that Wyatt’s hand in hers doesn’t bother me. Much.
At 2 pm on the nose, the receptionist calls in our arrival and, a moment later, she slides open Rifton’s door for us. We quickly file in, Wyatt in the lead, since InTense doesn’t know him, while Zachariel hangs back to close the door behind us. InTense stands between an enormous black-glass desk and a wide expanse of window that overlooks the relatively short towers that dot Silicon Valley. The window glass must have embedded tech because he swipes away something hovering an inch off the surface then turns to face us. His sharp-eyed gaze flits from Wyatt to Zachariel to finally land on me.
InTense’s eyes go wide. He immediately swipes open his palm screen and starts tapping. I sprint across the well-cushioned carpet, but I’m slowed by Madam A’s overly tall heels. InTense hunches over his palm and skitters backward, trying to evade me. Zachariel is coming around the other side of the desk, but I’m still going to reach InTense first. He’s madly tapping, so I lunge for his hand. He whisks it away, so my second palm goes for his throat. All I need is skin contact, and I find it before he can think to stop me with his non-screen hand.
I pull hard, sucking down on his considerable well of life energy. He seizes up and quickly crumples to the sun-warmed carpet below him. I go down with him, nearly twisting my ankle on the way, with the damn shoes and the fact that I can’t lose contact with him without risking more of a fight. Zachariel arrives and kneels by his head, snagging InTense’s palm screen hand and turning it up.
It’s blank.
Zachariel taps at it then growls and drops it. InTense is so seized up from the life energy drain that his arm doesn’t fall, it just hangs in the air, suspended by his death agony.
“It’s locked,” Zachariel says with grunt of frustration. “Did you see what he was doing?”
“No.”
Wyatt arrives at our side and the look on his face at what I’m doing…
I yank my hand back from InTense’s throat. He gasps in air and clutches at his throat, even though I’m not draining him any more. That’s probably the first time he’s ever felt the horror that comes from being on the losing end of a collection, so he likely thought he was dying. Which… takes a few moments to recover from.
Making InTense suffer works for our plan, but Wyatt’s stare feels like a hundred pound weight on my back. I climb up from the floor and step back from InTense’s flailing attempt to get to his feet as well. His chest heaves as he backs toward the glass expanse behind him, getting as much distance from us as possible. As if that could stop us. His face is twisted with fury, but his eyes are cold and calculating, flitting between the three of us and no doubt measuring his odds of getting out of this alive.
Which is precisely where we want him, regardless of whether Wyatt approves or not.
Unfortunately, the shock doesn’t last long. Intense straightens up from his defensive pose and smoothes his fashionably tailored black-silk shirt, calmly tugging his cuffs and stretching his neck where I was just pulling out his life energy a moment ago.
“I didn’t know there would be take-backs,” he says coolly, “otherwise I would have asked for more up front.” With the steady cadence of his voice, you would think he was attacked by debt collectors in his office every day.
Damn. I’ve met some steely-eyed corporate titans before, but this guy is stone-cold.
His gaze travels over my slightly-sexy corporate outfit borrowed from Madam A. “It was much more pleasurable the first time we met. Ms. Wraith.”
I am so tempted to apply more stick before we get to the carrot. So very tempted. But Zachariel beats me to it. In two fast steps, he has InTense pinned up against the window, a hand at his throat. The CTO-slasher is wiry and thin and no taller than I am—Zachariel must outweigh him by fifty pounds. From the contorted look on InTense’s face, and the way he claws at the hand on his neck, Zachariel’s not draining him: he’s killing him the old fashioned way.
Which really isn’t part of the plan.
“Zachariel,” I say, warning in my voice.
He’s staring straight into InTense’s bugged-out eyes, but his words are for me. “I really don’t like this guy, Wraith.” Then he leans in closer, speaking now to InTense. “And I’m a little low on life energy at the moment. How about I take yours?”
The whites of InTense’s eyes show a little more. Just when I’m about to panic that Zachariel’s going to kill him for real, he eases off. InTense is back to coughing and gasping and holding his throat. He doesn’t move from his place at the window, though, because Zachariel is a mountain of angry debt collector keeping him there.
I don’t know if InTense believes Zachariel would kill him, but I’m pretty well convinced. Just in case he was playing Bad Cop, I step up and go for the Good Cop role.
“Sorry about my friend, here,” I say. “He’s just a little upset about the trick you did for Gehenna. He’s not too fond of the idea of all those people dying.”
InTense glowers at us, but he clears his throat and gains back some of his arrogance. “I just do the trick, I don’t make the plans.”
“Well, now you’re going to undo the trick,” I say. “Or my friend here is going to have your life energy for lunch.”
But instead of looking intimidated, InTense just gives Zachariel a cool smile. “I’m sure you could kill me. But I wouldn’t place any bets on making it out of the building without a bullet in your head.” His smile grows into a smirk. I swear he’s getting off on this high-stakes game of threats and counter-threats. He slides that salacious look over me again. “Or Ms. Wraith could give back the little bit of life energy she stole, as well as a much larger dose, and I’d be more than happy to undo that trick you find so distasteful. I don’t mind getting paid twice for the same job.”
The Debt Collector (Season Two) Page 32
