Collateral Damage_A Tethered Novel

by Jessica Wayne

  “Just why should I trust you. You could have struck up a deal with him for all I know! I don’t know you.”

  “He sent someone to kill me, Miss Adams.”

  “I swear if you call me Miss Adams again I’m going to punch you.”

  “You’re very violent, aren’t you?”

  “What can I say? You seem to bring it out in me.”

  He shrugged. “Fair enough, Paislee.”

  She should have let him continue calling her Miss Adams because her name on his lips was dangerous in itself. “Why did he send someone after you?”

  She missed the flash of panic in his eyes. That was something he hadn’t spent much time deliberating on afraid that the truth of it was that his secret was out. “I don’t know. Perhaps I have something he wants.” Timothy eyed her dangerously.

  For a moment they stood staring at each other. Both in their own minds reliving pasts, they would rather have forgotten. For Paislee, she was back in that cage. Being forced to perform magic, she had no idea how to use.

  Timothy was back in Ireland, staring down at the grave of the woman he loved more than life itself. Or fighting wars trying desperately to end the life he no longer wanted to live.

  So how is it they found themselves here? Staring at each other over his desk? He had promised himself he would stay away from anyone who possessed any form of magic, but could he send this woman out to what could very well be her death? Besides, Malcolm was obviously after him as well, so keeping something of value to his enemy could prove a beneficial strategy.

  “I would appreciate it if you would stay for a while Paislee. You will be safe here, and perhaps we can determine what it is your Malcolm wants from me.”

  “He isn’t my Malcolm.”

  Not a refusal to stay, Timothy noted. And while he could see the inner battle she was having with herself, he would be willing to bet he’d won this round. He could sense the fight in her, she had no intention of going down before she got whatever it was out of Malcolm herself.

  “Do you have a bathroom in here?”

  He pointed to the door next to the bed in the corner, and without a word, she turned leaving him staring after her.

  The second she had closed the door behind her, Timothy pulled out his phone and called Ashton.

  “Bright,” he answered on the first ring.

  “Check out Malcolm Gentry. I have reason to believe he is the man who sent the assassin after me.”

  “On it.”

  Timothy ended the call and answered the buzzer on his desk that told him someone was asking to come up.

  “Hey, boss it’s Jake. I wanted to go over a few things with you?”

  “Come on up.”

  He hit the buzzer and took a seat behind the desk.

  “Hey, boss,” Jake said as he stepped out into Timothy’s office. “I’m packed, and my flight leaves in four hours.”

  “You understand what it is you’re expected to do?”

  “Check out the chalices, date and authenticate them, and see if they wouldn’t be interested in sending a representative over to attend our next auction.”

  Timothy nodded, and both men turned as Paislee stepped from the bathroom.

  “I’m so sorry to have interrupted.” Jake blushed.

  “You didn’t interrupt anything, Miss Adams is an associate of mine.”

  “Oh, well then, it’s nice to meet you, Miss Adams.” He held his hand out, “I’m Jake Parish.”

  “Nice to meet you Jake, I’m Paislee.” She took his hand and Timothy couldn’t help but detest the fact that they were touching.

  “You too, Paislee.” Jake smiled and then released her hand. “Boss man here is sending me to London for a week.”

  “That sounds intriguing.”

  “I’m definitely excited.” He stared at her and Timothy could feel the attraction coming off of him in waves. Shit, he’d have to be dead to not notice it. “So, um, I usually don’t do this, but would you be interested in maybe grabbing dinner or something when I get back?”

  Before she could answer, Timothy, interrupted, “Don’t you have a flight to catch?”

  “Yes, Sir. I’ll head out now, nice to meet you Paislee.” He smiled widely as he left the office.

  “He seems nice,” She said easily.

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s he going to London for?”

  “Company business.” He looked back down at his laptop and Paislee could see she’d lost him to whatever it was he did.

  Chapter 5

  “So, when are you planning on letting me go?”

  Timothy looked over to where Paislee was sitting cross-legged on his couch, thumbing through one of the useless magic texts she’d brought with her. She looked so normal sitting there, and it pained him. Why the hell did she have to look so much like Cait?

  “I told you, you’re not a prisoner here.”

  “But I can’t leave because Malcolm is supposedly watching your building?”

  “If you want to leave, go ahead.” When she remained seated, he said, “That’s what I thought.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “If you believed I was lying, you would have left already. I will take you to your apartment, so you can gather what you need.”

  “What I need for what?”

  “You’re staying here.”

  “Like hell I am. You sneak me out of this place, and I will disappear. It’s what I’m good at.”

  “You’re obviously not that good, or he wouldn’t have found you.”

  “He found me because you were dying, and I chose to save you. Against my better judgment, I might add.”

  “Noted. If I take you out of this office, it’s to help you gather your things and come back.”

  “Just what are we supposed to do up here together? Sing kumbaya? There’s only one bed, and I’m not sharing it.”

  “That’s assuming a lot Paislee.”

  “Oh, is it?”

  “Yes.” He shut his laptop and leaned back in his chair. “For one, you’re assuming I would let you take the bed and not make you sleep on the couch. Secondly, that’s also assuming I’m staying here too, which I’m not.”

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  “Anyone ever tell you that you cuss like a sailor?”

  “No, and I wouldn’t give a shit if they did. Where are you staying?”

  “My apartment.”

  “You don’t live here?”

  He raised his eyebrow. “Hardly.”

  “Seems strange you would have a bed in a place you don’t live.”

  “I sleep here from time to time if I’m working late.”

  She tried to not let it bother her that he wouldn’t be nearby. Something about him being here, about her not being alone, was comforting.

  “So, I’m going to be here alone.”

  “This building is secure. There will be a guard outside of the elevator which as you notice, is the only way in and out of here.” There was a warning in his tone. It was unnecessary as she had no reason to go anywhere. She knew he was right, Malcolm would be watching this building, and as it stood, Timothy McGinley-arrogance included- was her best shot.

  “Why didn’t you freak out?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “When you realized I was a witch, you didn’t act weird about it. Or even all that surprised.”

  “I am not a stranger to magic,” he said simply and stood. “Would you like me to take you to your apartment?”

  “Yes, please.” It pained her to do so, but she tried to sound as polite as possible. She wanted new clothes and her cat.

  “Let’s go then. If anyone asks, you’re an archeologist.”

  “You got it. Should I call you boss too?” She could have been mistaken, but she thought she saw a glimmer of amusement on his face.

  “If it suits you, I certainly won’t complain,” he responded and pulled a phone out of his pocket. “We need a car in the alley.” He hun
g up, and they walked to the elevator.

  “So, have you always been into antiques?” She wondered as the door closed.

  “You could say that.”

  “How long have you been in Boston?”

  “A long time.”

  “Any family?”

  “No.”

  She stayed silent the rest of the way down to the bottom floor of the building. When they stepped out of the elevator, there was a man in a black suit waiting for them.

  “Paislee Adams this is Ashton Bright, the head of my security team.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She extended a hand, and the man offered her a kind smile.

  “Nice to meet you as well, Miss Adams.”

  “Please just call me Paislee.”

  “You got it, Paislee.”

  “Any updates?” Timothy asked him as they walked down a hallway and towards a door that Paislee assumed let to the same alley where her life had taken a strange detour.

  She glanced up at Timothy who walked beside her but was focused on Ashton, A very strange detour.

  “The assassin was a man by the name of Mitchell Henderson. He was employed as a package delivery man by Gentry Corp. They specialize in refurbishing old properties, specifically those deemed historical sites.” Ashton stepped outside first and ushered Paislee and Timothy out after him.

  “I’m assuming Malcolm Gentry is the Gentry behind the company?”

  “Yes,” Ashton confirmed as they climbed into a white SUV that waited in the alley.

  After Paislee gave the driver her address, they pulled out of the alley. She stared out of the window tuning out Ashton and Timothy as they went over whatever it was Ashton had discovered. She didn’t need to hear it, she already knew who was after him. The question was, why? What did Malcolm have to gain by coming after Timothy McGinley? Who was he? Antique dealer, sure, but there had to be something more.

  Could it be that Malcolm was simply interested in something he had? Did the man he sent after Timothy mean to rob him?

  “Paislee.”

  She looked over to see Timothy and Ashton staring at her expectedly. Damn, had she dozed off? She wondered. “What?”

  “How did Malcolm learn you possessed magic?”

  She shrugged. “A lucky guess I suppose?”

  “And is it still just a lucky guess? Or has he witnessed it himself?”

  He was pretty damn positive since he’d been forcing her to perform magic at his own beck and call since she’d been thirteen, but she didn’t tell them that. “He’s seen it.”

  “When?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I know it may seem like it doesn’t,” Ashton’s voice was soothing and helped somewhat to calm her fraying nerves. “But everything you can tell us will help to determine why Mr. Gentry has targeted Mr. McGinley as well as helping us stop him from coming after you.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  “Yeah, you seem to have been doing just fine on your own,” Timothy responded sarcastically.

  “As a matter of fact, I was doing just fine until saving your ass in the alley.”

  “So you keep saying.”

  She stared at him, and he held her glare.

  “We’re here,” the driver announced as he lowered the partition. Timothy looked away, and Paislee let out the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

  Ashton stepped out first, followed by Timothy and Paislee. She couldn’t disagree when Timothy commented, “This is not a safe place Paislee.”

  “Really? I had no idea.”

  She pushed into the dimly lit lobby and headed upstairs that creaked as she walked. The yellow walls were paper thin, making it so you could hear the yelling or TV shows from the insides of the apartments.

  After stepping onto her floor, Paislee headed for apartment 3C which had been her home for the better part of a year.

  “Wait outside,” Timothy said to Ashton, and they stepped into her apartment.

  Of all the places Timothy had expected Paislee to call home, a drug den hidden in downtown had been last on his list. The complex reeked of mold and dust, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why she had chosen here.

  The inside of her apartment smelled considerably better than the hall, but he knew that to be because of the wax warmer she had on the peeling countertop. She’d tried to make this place a home, he considered as he looked at the colored throw pillows and blankets on the fading mahogany colored couch.

  “Hey, baby!” Paislee knelt in front of an orange tabby that had come out of what Timothy assumed was her bedroom. “I missed you.”

  “You have a cat.”

  “Yes.” Paislee lifted the cat and eyed him. “And he comes with me, or I stay and take my chances.”

  He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I guess it’s a good thing I like cats.”

  “Good.” Paislee smiled and handed Timothy her cat. “This is Garth.”

  He absently ran his hand down the Tabby’s back and carried him over to the carrier in the corner of the room, locked the cat inside, then followed Paislee into her bedroom.

  “I’m amazed you haven’t been murdered in this place,” he commented with disgust.

  “Well, when you’re broke and trying to hide, anywhere that accepts cash with no identification is an option.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” He watched as she packed clothes into a duffel bag, his eyes landed on the only photo in the entire place. He lifted it and studied the smiling faces beneath the glass.

  A young Paislee stood next to a slightly older boy with the same red hair as her. Two adults, who he would have recognized as her parents flanked them. There was no argument as to which parent Paislee resembled, her father was the only one out of the two of them with the same red hair and blue eyes. “Your family?” he asked.

  Paislee snatched the photo and stuck it into her bag. “Yes.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “You know, for a man who refuses to answer questions, you sure have a lot of your own.” Paislee pushed past him and into the living room where she filled a grocery bag with a small container of cat food and two bowls.

  She then emptied out the litter box, rinsed it clean, and loaded a bag of litter into the top. After placing it and the food bag into a duffel, she turned to him. “I’m ready.” Timothy grabbed the duffel and cat carrier and followed her out of the door.

  “A cat?” Ashton commented, amused after they’d gotten in the car.

  “Garth is family,” Paislee said simply and stuck her finger through the grate of the carrier.

  They rode the rest of the way back to Timothy’s office in silence, and the driver dropped them back in the same alley as before.

  Ashton waved goodbye, and she and Timothy headed back upstairs.

  “So why do I have to stay here while you get to be in your apartment?”

  “This building is more secure than my private residence.”

  “Yeah, seems fishy to me. Is your apartment a mess?”

  He turned his full attention to her. “Why would you think that?”

  “Men tend to not want women in their apartments if they’re messy.”

  He looked offended, and Paislee had to stifle a laugh. “I assure you my apartment is not messy.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sure, that’s what you all say.”

  They stepped into his office/Paislee’s new place of residence, and Timothy set the carrier down before opening the gate and letting the cat out.

  He headed towards his desk and packed his computer into a messenger bag. “I will bring you some more reputable books tomorrow morning. I will have Ashton bring you up some food in a bit as I imagine you’re hungry.” He eyed the empty plate that had been her lunch. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Pizza please!” she called after him and began unpacking her bags. After setting up the litter box and feeding Garth, she took a seat on the couch.

  * * *

  Timothy step
ped out onto the street and into the open door of the car that waited on the curb.

  His driver knew the destination, so he leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.

  What did this all mean? Was the curse broken? He should have done a better job of keeping tabs on the witch who’d cursed him but seeing her face even if just in an image, was more than he could stomach.

  Besides, what the hell did it matter anyway? It’s not like he’d had control over anything for the past two hundred years. He would continue living the way he was and if he died one day then so be it.

  Hell, he’d embrace it. Or so he’d thought he would. But lying in that alley and believing he might actually die had scared the crap out of him. “I’m sorry Cait,” he whispered. He should have been grateful for the chance to be with her again, and instead, he had been afraid.

  Now, what did Paislee bring into the picture? Not only was she a bloody witch, but a man who had somehow managed to get his hands on an original painting of Timothy and Cait was hunting her. A painting that he had believed destroyed decades ago.

  The one shred of evidence of his original life. He should just send Paislee back out into the world. He could pay her handsomely for the painting and let her fend for herself. At least that would keep any attention off him.

  “Dammit,” he cursed under his breath and ground his teeth together. She looked too damn much like Cait for him to abandon her. Her death would be the result, and he didn’t have it in him to let her die at the hands of a man who wanted to control her. Besides, if she didn’t die, Malcolm Gentry might be able to manipulate her into using her magic to suit him. If there were anything Timothy had learned over the years, that kind of power in the hands of a mortal man with no respect for it would prove devastating.

  “Here, Sir.”

  Timothy opened his eyes. “Thanks, Geoff.”