by Jenna Black
I glared at him. “If you looked them up, then why did you bother asking me?”
“I was curious to see whether you’d looked them up after Brian asked you, but apparently not.”
Any suggestion of warm, fuzzy feelings I’d started to get over this guy vanished, and I seriously considered doing a Donald Trump “You’re fired!” Luckily, my temper isn’t quite that bad. And I did get the “You’re not taking this seriously enough” message.
“On average, twenty-one percent of exorcisms result positively with the host in full possession of his or her faculties,” Cook said. “Fifty-eight percent result in permanent catatonia, twenty percent result in temporary catatonia, and one percent in brain-death.”
From the tone of his voice and the expression on his face, I knew my statistics weren’t going to compare favorably. I gritted my teeth.
“And my averages?” I asked, even though I didn’t want to.
Cook glanced down at a piece of paper. “According to the U.S. Exorcism Board, they are seventeen, sixty, twenty-one, and two.” He glanced back up at me. “I haven’t had a chance to have a statistician look at the numbers yet to tell me whether the variation is statistically significant, but even if it isn’t, it’s not going to sound very good in court.”
A depressing thought, to be sure, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it now. Maybe I should start leaning on Dom to open his own restaurant so I could get a job waiting tables for him when I lost everything.
“It’s not a cause for despair,” Cook assured me. “It just means that there could be hard times to come. I’ll contact Mr. Maguire’s attorney and see if there’s any hope of convincing them to drop the suit. Considering your financial situation, Mr. Maguire will no doubt spend far more money pursuing the case than he can ever hope to recoup by winning it.”
“Good luck with that,” I murmured. I’d have liked to believe there was an easy way out, but I thought it was about as likely as me winning the lottery without buying a ticket.
Cook was escorting me down the hall toward the front door when something struck me, and I came to a halt with a frown.
“You work fast,” I said as a suspicion took form in my head. “You found out all those statistics in the time since Brian made the appointment?”
Cook looked surprised. “Four days was more than enough time. I certainly don’t consider that to be working particularly fast.”
I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from saying something I would regret. I’d save that for when I next saw Brian. I’d been somewhat annoyed to discover he’d made the appointment for me this morning. Finding out he’d made it four days ago and only got around to telling me about it this morning did not sit well at all.
Preferring to think about being angry with Brian than about what the outcome of this lawsuit might be, I left Cook’s office and began plotting my verbal smack-down.
CHAPTER 7
I didn’t get home until a little after six, having run some errands and stopped for groceries along the way. I’d calmed down a bit by then, realizing that everything Brian had done, he’d done for my own good. That didn’t mean I would let him get away with it without a tongue-lashing, but there wouldn’t be a great deal of heat behind it.
I was lost in my thoughts when I stepped through the door into the lobby of my apartment building, and I walked to the elevators without looking around me. In fact, it wasn’t until I’d actually stepped into the elevator and turned to push the button for my floor that I realized Brian was there.
I jumped like a startled cat as he joined me in the elevator.
“Jesus, you scared me!” I said, putting my hand to my chest and feeling the frantic beat of my heart. “Why didn’t you say something?”
The doors slid closed, and the elevator started to rise. Brian didn’t look at me, instead staring at the lighted numbers above the door. Tension radiated from him in almost palpable waves, and though I was pretty sure his face was supposed to be neutrally blank, he looked like he was majorly pissed off. I put a hand on his arm, and he actually jerked out of my grip.
“Brian, what’s wrong?” I asked. I’d never seen him anything like this before.
“Wait until we get into the apartment,” he said, and it sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth.
I was mystified. It wasn’t like Brian had never been angry with me before, but I couldn’t think of a time when he’d been angry and I hadn’t known the reason why. Swallowing a lump of fear, I joined him in staring at the lighted numbers. It was one of the longest elevator rides in the history of mankind.
Eventually, the doors opened, and I made my way to my apartment, not at all sure I wanted to know what was going on. Ignorance is supposed to be bliss, but I wasn’t feeling so blissful at the moment.
I unlocked the door and stepped into my apartment, gesturing for Brian to come in. It was then that I noticed the manila envelope he held in his right hand. I gathered it was something about that envelope that had made him so mad, but I hadn’t the foggiest idea what it could be. I put the bag of groceries in the kitchen, but didn’t bother to put them away. Brian hadn’t followed, so I went back to the entryway.
“Would you like me to make some coffee?” I asked, trying to sound normal.
“No.” Brian’s voice was brusque and curt. No pretense of normalcy here.
“Then should we sit down?”
“No,” he said in that same tone of voice.
I shook my head, starting to get pissed off myself.
“Enough with the caveman grunts already! Just tell me what’s the matter.”
He met my eyes, and for the first time ever, I saw genuine coldness in his gaze. It was almost enough to make me take a step backward, but then I decided it was ridiculous to be scared of Brian, no matter how upset he was.
Still giving me that marrow-freezing look, he reached into the manila envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. Without another word, he shoved it in my face.
With a sigh, I took the paper from Brian’s hand. It was a short letter, printed out on plain white copy paper. I started to read.
Mr. Tyndale, I thought you might be interested to know that your girlfriend has spent the night with Adam White on more than one occasion.
I gasped, and the paper jerked in my hand. My jaw dropped open, and I looked at Brian in horror. But the note wasn’t finished yet, and I forced myself to read the rest.
Lest you think these overnight stays were somehow innocent, I must tell you that I have attained some concrete information about what took place while she was there. I presume Ms. Kingsley has mentioned to you Mr. White’s distasteful proclivity toward sadistic sexual practices. Would you be interested to know that in Mr. White’s house there is a bullwhip that bears traces of Ms. Kingsley’s blood?
The note was signed “An Interested Observer.”
My face lost all color, and for a moment, the room seemed to swim before my eyes. My hands shook hard enough that I dropped the sheet of paper. I couldn’t have looked more guilty if I’d tried. Why, oh why, hadn’t I told Brian the truth when I’d had the chance? I wished he didn’t have to know at all, but at least if he’d gotten it from me, this damn note wouldn’t be so devastating—or hard to explain.
“It’s not what you think,” I stuttered, then wanted to slap myself upside the head for uttering the most guilty-sounding phrase in the English language.
“The hell it isn’t,” Brian growled at me. He wasn’t giving me the icy stare anymore. In fact, he couldn’t even bear to look at me. “This is why you were so touchy about Lugh, isn’t it? Because you already had a guilty conscience!”
I tried to reach out to him, but he jerked away before I made contact. “Don’t touch me!”
I took a deep, quavering breath. I had vowed to myself never to tell him what Adam had done to me, what I had let Adam do to me in exchange for his help rescuing Brian. If I didn’t have Lugh around to keep my dreams under control, I’d have had recurring n
ightmares about the hell I’d gone through in Adam’s black room. I’d never wanted Brian to find out, and, most of all, never wanted him to feel guilty about the sacrifice I’d made to save him.
I wasn’t even sure if it would be better for Brian to think I had cheated on him than to know the truth. But I couldn’t bear for him to think that.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm myself, knowing that my next words were crucial to whether our relationship could survive this blow. “What happened between me and Adam wasn’t in the least bit sexual,” I said carefully.
Brian laughed bitterly, and he allowed himself to look at me once more. I almost wished he hadn’t, because the combination of pain and fury in his eyes was more than I could bear.
“Don’t bother lying to me,” he said. “Your face is an open book, remember?”
“Yes, and I’m telling you the truth. Adam did whip me, but it wasn’t sexual. It was about as far from sexual as it’s possible to get.” For me, at least. I still remembered how the thought of what he was about to do to me had aroused Adam, though he’d told me the arousal didn’t mean he wanted to have sex with me, and I’d believed him.
“Save it!”
“But Brian—”
“If you’d told me the truth about it from the beginning, I might have been able to find a way to forgive you. I assume it happened while we were broken up.” He shook his head. “But no, you made a point of assuring me the two of you weren’t lovers.”
“We weren’t. We aren’t.” Once again, I reached for him, and once again, he evaded me.
“It’s over, Morgan. I could put up with your bitchiness and your unwillingness to open up to me, but I can’t deal with you cheating on me.”
“I didn’t cheat on you!” I cried, knowing I sounded desperate. “Just let me—”
“Stop lying!” he bellowed, and his face turned red with his rage. This time when I reached for him, he actually shoved me away. Not hard enough to hurt me, but easily hard enough to shock me into temporary silence.
He reached into the manila envelope one more time, pulled out an eight-by-ten photo, and shoved it at me. I felt like an elephant had just sat on my chest, and it was all I could do to breathe.
The photo was of a couple locked in a passionate kiss. The man’s hands were on the woman’s ass, and her arms were wrapped around his neck, one hand buried in his black hair. Their faces were obscured because they were kissing, but the woman had my hair color and style, as well as my telltale sword tattoo on her lower back, and the man certainly had Adam’s height and build. Worse, they were standing on the doorstep of Adam’s house.
I shook my head, barely able to find enough voice to muster a weak protest. “This is a fake. I never—”
Brian didn’t even let me finish. He dropped the envelope and the photo on the floor, then turned away and stormed out my front door, slamming it behind him so hard my teeth rattled.
I fell to my knees, clutching my abdomen, unable to absorb the enormity of what had just happened. I wanted to cry, needed to cry, maybe even to scream and break things. But all I could do was kneel in my foyer, trying to remember to breathe as I stared at the faked photo that had just destroyed something precious.
CHAPTER 8
I don’t know how long I knelt there, swimming in misery. Long enough for my knees to ache and my feet to fall asleep. Eventually, I staggered to my feet, pins and needles jabbing fiercely at me, and moved the pity party to the sofa, where I could be more comfortable in my despair.
I knew who had to have sent Brian that envelope, of course: Barbara Paget, PI to the rich, famous, and vindictive. She’d even warned me, in a way, that time I’d spotted her snooping outside Adam’s. She’d said it was going to get worse, and that she was good at her job. Of course, what she’d done had been well over and above her job, and surely against the law. I don’t suppose it’s against the law to falsify an incriminating photo as long as you’re not using it in court, but it was clearly unethical. And the note had said she’d found traces of my blood on a whip in Adam’s house. I didn’t imagine she’d come by that evidence legally. What kind of moron would break into the house of the Director of Special Forces, especially when he was a demon?
A desperate moron, Lugh’s voice whispered in my head. Remember the sister at The Healing Circle?
I remembered, all right. I remembered speculating on how Barbie could afford to keep her sister in such an expensive facility in her line of work. She must have been well paid for tearing my heart out of my chest. I wanted to track her down and beat her into an oozing puddle of goo, but getting arrested for assault probably wasn’t in my best interests.
Of course, if Barbie had broken into Adam’s house to acquire evidence of our supposed affair, she might have left some evidence behind herself. Wouldn’t it be lovely if Adam searched the room and found a hair that could be matched to Barbie’s? It probably wouldn’t mean a whole lot of jail time or anything satisfying like that, but it could put her reputation in the toilet, where it belonged.
I forced myself to my feet and trudged to the foyer, picking up the envelope that Brian had dropped. I shoved the note and photo in the envelope; then, without giving myself time to think about what I was doing or whether it was wise, I headed out to Adam’s place.
There were lights on in the house, and both Adam and Dom’s cars were in the small private lot across the street, so I knew someone was home. However, it took about ten rings of the doorbell, which Adam had finally gotten around to fixing, before anyone came to the door. The small part of my brain that was still working told me the delay in answering the door meant I’d come at a bad time, but that didn’t keep me from hitting the buzzer over and over again.
The door swung partially open to reveal Adam, his hair mussed, his feet bare, and his shirt misbuttoned. Yup, I’d interrupted something all right. And I didn’t give a shit.
“This had better be good,” he growled at me. His glare should have reduced me to a pile of ashes.
I couldn’t meet his eyes, unable to bear that look when I was about one wrong word away from shattering into a thousand tiny pieces that could never be put back together again. I tried to think of something to say, some way to broach the subject of what Barbie had done, but I couldn’t seem to form words.
“Shit,” Adam muttered. “I guess it’s not anything good.” He sighed heavily, then opened the door all the way. “Come on in.”
I stepped inside and saw Dominic leaning against the wall in the foyer. He didn’t look quite as disheveled as Adam, but he’d obviously dressed in a hurry, and his face was flushed. For half a second, I worried that Dom might react as badly to the falsified photo as Brian had, but I shook the idea off. For one, Dominic knew exactly what had transpired between Adam and myself. For another, his relationship with Adam was a lot more solid—and, let’s face it, more healthy—than mine with Brian.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I had a childish urge to throw myself into his arms and bawl my eyes out. Dom is probably one of the nicest human beings I’ve ever met, the kind of guy who would always know the right things to say. I felt the sting of tears in my eyes and blinked rapidly.
Instead of answering Dom, I invited myself into the living room, taking a seat on the couch and hugging a throw pillow to my chest. The guys followed me, Adam sitting on the opposite end of the couch, Dom once again leaning a shoulder against the wall. I glanced up at him.
“Why don’t you come sit down?” I asked. I could hear the strain in my voice. I tried clearing my throat, but it didn’t help. “This might take a while.”
The flush in Dom’s face deepened, and one corner of his mouth rose in a grin. “I think I’ll stand, thanks.”
I was a little slow on the uptake—as usual when it came to these two—so I stared at him cluelessly for an awkward moment before I figured out what he meant.
“Oh,” I said, and felt the heat rising in my own cheeks. I must admit, I was a bit surprised.
Obviously, I knew the two of them were into S&M, but I’d been under the impression that Adam didn’t inflict any serious pain on his partner. Then I remembered the time Adam had been forced to “perform” for Shae, the owner of a demon sex club. I’d gotten a front-row seat, so to speak, as Adam took a paddle to Dom’s ass. Those had not been little love taps. Of course, Shae wouldn’t have been satisfied with little love taps.
I must have looked more uncomfortable than usual, because Dom hastened to reassure me.
“I’ll be fine in a little bit,” he said. “You just caught us at a, um, awkward moment.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, squeezing the throw pillow tighter and dropping my gaze to the floor.
“Come on, Morgan,” Adam prompted. “Tell us what’s wrong.”
I took a deep breath, doing my best to shove my rioting emotions into a closet and close the door on them. I glanced up at Dominic once more.
“I know you’ll figure this out on your own, but let me tell you anyway that it’s complete bullshit.”
He blinked at me. “Okay.”
I let go of the throw pillow and dug the envelope with the incriminating evidence out of my purse. I handed the note and the photograph to Adam.
“Someone sent these to Brian,” I said.
Adam’s eyebrows shot up when he saw the picture. Dominic came over to look, and his expression mirrored his lover’s. He reached for the photo, and Adam handed it over without any hesitation. I guess he didn’t suffer a moment’s worry that Dom might think it was the real thing. Dom frowned at the photo while Adam read the note.
I looked up at Dom. “Like I said, total bullshit.”
He waved his hand dismissively and handed the picture back to Adam. “I know.” He put a hand on Adam’s shoulder in a silent show of solidarity. “I’m guessing from how awful you look that Brian took it at face value. Frankly, I’m a bit surprised at him.”
Adam shook his head and handed Dom the note. “Read this and you’ll understand,” Adam said. He looked at me. “Let me guess: Brian asked you about the blood, and you gave him your usual poker face.”
