by C. Shell
“Charity, what is your problem?” I ask leaning down and getting right into her personal space.
Her eyes widen and quickly dart around, seeing that we have an audience. I don’t wait for her answer and continue on. “When I ask you a question or to perform a task for me, I expect your utmost attention and respect. If you can’t handle that with a grain of niceness, then maybe I need to speak with Cherie, and replace you with someone who can. ”
Her lip quivers with anger. If looks could kill I would be pushing up daisies. If it were anyone else, I would handle this differently, more professionally, but Charity does not understand what professional means. Reaching out, I tuck a loose strand of hair that has fallen out of her bun behind her ear, while keeping my eyes trained on hers the whole time.
Keeping my voice level and devoid of emotion I ask, “Do we have an understanding Charity or do I need to make a phone call?”
Her head shakes side to side, but it is not enough. I want more. “Words Charity. I need to hear you say it,” I prompt.
Swallowing hard, she tilts her head back, and gives me the fakest smile I have ever seen. Her voice is chilly and full of hatred for me as she answers. “No, Ms. Dawson. I understand.”
I stand back up to my full height ready to leave again. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other. I’ll be back soon.”
I stride down the hall in a mental fog. I need a vacation from all the crazies surrounding me, and unfortunately, I have a feeling my trip to Spain isn’t going to help me in that department. If anything it is only going to make things much worse.
It isn’t until I am standing before the banks of elevators waiting on the next car that I notice James is still with me. He is so quiet and keeps to himself that it’s easy to forget when he is around. I think hard, trying to remember if he said whether or not Daemon would be sending a car for him, or is he already has one parked here he could use, while I am away.
“So James, “I say turning to him. “What are your plans for the rest of the day? Have any loose ends you need to tie up before we leave tonight?”
“No loose ends for me,” he chuckles. He has a nice laugh. One that lights up his face and takes over his whole body. I can picture him doing it often. That thought relaxes me. Seeing him as a person with a job to do, and not some mindless drone following orders, makes being around him easier.
“My wife, Jill, takes care of our affairs. Although she won’t admit it, I think she is looking forward to a few weeks of me being gone. She normally uses my time away to go and see her sister in Florida.”
“That’s nice,” I murmur. The elevator car dings its arrival and as two men in suites bustle out we both squeeze in and hit the ‘lobby’ button at the same time.
“I guess we are both in a hurry to get a few hours away from this place,” I laugh. “Where do you plan to spend you free hours, James?” I ask lightly.
He shakes his head, giving me a ruthless look. “I don’t have normal working hours, Ms. Dawson.” he explains, giving me a shake of his head. “I understand this is new to you and you don’t know me well enough to trust me yet, but I have my orders, and unless Mr. Scott, says otherwise, I stay the course and follow them through.”
My mind blanks. I was correct earlier when I pictured James being nothing more than a shadow watching my every move. That is his true purpose. I feel lightheaded from the swell of unpleasant emotions rolling through me. This is insane. I didn’t ask for this and I certainly don’t want it.
I lean my head back against the rear wall of the elevator. The coolness from the steel feels heavenly against my heated skin. I am so mad right now. I feel violated. I accepted Daemons reasoning for having James with me in Spain. Protection in a foreign country makes sense, but I don’t understand why I need him with me now. Surely he isn’t questioning my loyalty? If that isn’t a kettle calling a pot black, than I don’t know what is.
Although I know none of this is James’s fault, he is the only one around to vent to my anger to, and without meaning to, I unleash on him.
“Fuck a duck,” I breathe out in a strangled breath. “Are you really okay with this?” I seethe, directing all my frustration his way. “Are there limits or do you plan on following me everywhere I go? Do I get any alone time or does Daemon pay you extra to report back on when I eat, sleep, where I go, and with whom I talk to? What exactly does that boss of yours want to know about me?”
James shrugs, seemingly unfazed by my outburst or torrent of questions. His brows dip in worry as he stares intently down at the cheap carpet beneath our feet. I watch his face, not knowing if I pushed too far. I bite my lip to keep from apologizing. I know I should, but my stubborn streak keeps my lips shut tight.
James raises his eyes to meet my own. I notice a small twitch of his lips, I can tell he is deliberating on what, or how much, he should say. Before he has a chance to speak, the elevator doors open, and like a balloon lost in the wind, the moment is over. Carefully stepping over the threshold into the loud blusterous lobby, he reaches back and holds the elevator door open, while I follow suite. Not missing his stride, he ushers me through the lobby, and leads me out the double glass front doors.
The cool fall air licks at my arms as we step out of the entry way. Winter is definitely not far behind. We don’t get hard winters this far south in Texas, but we do get enough coldness that makes wearing a coat a necessity, and right now, I am wishing I brought mine with me. Wrapping my arms around myself, I begin to search the parking lot for my car. I find it easily, but my attention is quickly diverted.
Parked at the curb is a beautiful sleek black town car. It’s so shiny and pristine that is looks practically new. I sigh in irritation already knowing who it belongs to. When James extends his arm, indicating for me to proceed towards it, understanding slams down on me. I grit my teeth in defiance. Do I have a stamp on my head today that says, “I love to be bullied and told what to do?” Taking a step to the side, I square my shoulders and prepare to bolt, determined to drive my own car, and get as far away from that sleek one, and everything it represents.
Showing off those quick ninja skills, James anticipates my move, and grips my elbow with enough force to halt my departure. Pulling me beside him, he speaks low against my ear, “I know you aren’t happy right now, but if you get in the car without a fuss, I will tell you a little about Daemon, and do my best to answer any questions you might have.”
My feet pause at the promise of getting some insight on a man that has confused me since the moment he walked into my life. I’m torn on what to do. I hate giving in and doing exactly what is expected of me, but the reward of knowledge is too much to turn away from.
With a huff, I nod, and allow James to help me into the back seat of the shiny Town car. I’m impressed. The car is very luxurious, with a sleek back interior, wood trimming, and buttery soft leather seats. My eyes are instantly drawn to the lavender tulips, pushed into the back pocket panels on each of the seats in front of us. I try not to crack a smile, but it is hard. I swear that man knows no bounds.
James climbs into the front and within minutes we are gaining entrance onto the freeway. I give him directions of where I am to meet Sasha, and once he has it plugged into the GPS system, I waste no more time getting down to business. I want answers.
If there is any truth to the saying, that ‘knowledge is power’, than I have a feeling I am going to need all I can get.
Chapter 8
“I kept my part of the bargain, James,” I exclaim, giving him the biggest-sweetest-smile that I can manage. “I expect you to do the same. What can you tell me about Daemon that I don’t already know?”
He nods, returning my smile. “Ms. Dawson, I can understand your grievances. Daemon has always been a tad petulant when dealing with things important to him. Personal or professional, he pushes too hard, thinking solely about the end-result and less about the process in which he gets there.”
“Sounds familiar,” I say softly.
I fiddle with a stray stand of hair as I watch the scenery pass by us in a rush. We aren’t far from the restaurant, and if I want to get the most out of this deal, I need to hurry up. All of the questions that have been running a marathon in my mind, now seem all jumbled and askew.
“You think I am important to him?” I’m not sure why I chose this as my first question, but it is the first coherent thought that falls from my lips. Got to start somewhere, right?
“You are more important to Daemon than even he realizes,” James answers, not missing a beat.
“You speak about him as though you have known him a long time. Why is that?”
“I have known Daemon since he was seventeen.” He lets out a small chuckle, as if remembering pieces of the past. “Even back then, Daemon was a force to be reckoned with. Maybe even more so than today.”
“What was he like?” The curiosity running through me is strong. It’s odd how much I have shared with Daemon, and yet I still know very little about his past, except for the few facts I have read in papers.
“He was a handful,” he says shaking his head. “My wife and I used to live next door to his foster family. We tried to help when we could. My Jill, doted on the boys, making them dinner on nights when they had none, and picking up new clothes for them when theirs were full of holes and thread bare. The couple that kept them weren’t exactly bad people, they just didn’t care. As long as they got their monthly payment from the State for the two boys they were happy.” James admits reluctantly.
“Daemon was always angry at the world, and rightfully so. No matter what the system did, Daemon fought to keep him and Trey together. He practically raised and cared for that boy himself. To this day, I have never met another young man so determined to make something out of himself.”
When he stops speaking I look up shocked to find that we are already at the restaurant. I have been so lost in his story, picturing what a young Daemon must have been like, that I lost track of where we were.
Tears dot the edges of my eyes thinking of what he and Trey went through. I don’t know how he did it. At that young of an age, I was busy running around with friends, sneaking sips of liquor at local parties, and getting ready to move away for college. I can’t imagine growing up without having someone to give me encouragement or helping to pave the way for me to succeed.
I glance back at James, seeing him in a whole new light. Without him and his wife around, Daemon and Trey could have been worse off. I cringe thinking of what other hardships they would have had to bear. I’m not sure if James even realizes the significance he poses on Daemon’s life. Whether he knows it or not, he is the closest thing to a father Daemon has.
I look towards the restaurant and notice Sasha already seated in a booth next to a large bay window. I sigh, knowing my history session about Mr. Scott has come to a close. “Thanks for everything,” I say, giving his shoulder a small squeeze as I open the car door and step out onto the street. Before stepping away, I turn and lean back into the car. “Are you planning on watching me from here or would you like to join us?”
His eyes crinkle in amusement. “You enjoy your time with your friend. I’ll grab something from the bar and give you two some privacy.”
“Privacy? Really James, what would your employer think about you giving into such a scandalous thing?” I joke. “Privacy is so over-rated”
“Sometimes it pays to be a rebel, Ms. Dawson,” he replies with gusto.
Laughing, we enter the restaurant and part ways, him taking spot on a barstool at the bar, and me sliding into the booth across from Sasha. The lawyer in her misses nothing, as her eyes stare holes into James, while I look over a menu lying on the table.
“Do you know what the soup of the day is?” I ask, turning the menu over once again, still not seeing any mention of it.
“Who is that?” she asks, unease coating her words.
“James,” I reply, trying not to laugh when I notice the frown marring her beautiful face.
“Don’t play games with me, Kelly,” she warns. “Who is that man driving you around like, Ms. Daisy?”
Now I am the one frowning. “I am not as old as Ms. Daisy, you crazy woman.” I say exasperated. Sitting back against the cheap vinyl seats, I cross my arms over my chest and give her a disapproving glare. “Apologize and I might tell you,” I smirk.
She rolls her eyes, giving in easier than I expected. Curiosity can be such a bitch sometimes. “I’m sorry. Now, stop being a brat, and tell me what is going on. Who is that man you were with and why is he hanging around you?”
I shrug. “His name is, James, and he works for Daemon. That,” I say pointing to the Town car parked out front, “is also Daemon’s.” A waitress walks by at the moment and I grab her attention, ready to order. Everything looks so good, I am having a hard time deciding on just one thing. I finally settle on a small taco salad, bowl of chicken tortilla soup, and a glass of water. Sasha orders the same, and then practically pushes the waitress away. My eyes go wide as I try not to laugh.
“And?” she prompts, with an arched brow. “I need more details than that. You better start talking or I’m calling Trey.”
I spend the next half hour giving her a blow by blow of my morning, including my confrontation with Charity, and a few details James shared with me about the two men in our life. Normally I wouldn’t have retold such a personal story, but with her dating Trey, I thought she had a right to know. They seem pretty serious about each other, and being her good friend, I think she has a right to know as much information as possible about the guy nailing her every night.
Wow, I need to learn how to practice what I preach.
“So, you trust this James guy,” she asks, reaching over and stealing another piece of my avocado off my plate.
“Yeah, I do,” I answer honestly. She looks at me questioningly, making me feel like I am one of her clients on the stand. I stiffen my back and give her a hard look. “Daemon wouldn’t ask me to be around someone who would hurt me. Plus, I don’t get a bad vibe from him.”
She pushes the food on her plate around while the silence between us builds to an uncomfortable level. When I think I can’t take another minute of it, she speaks. “When I agreed to watch your cat, I thought you knew about the trip and were afraid to tell me. I was irritated with at you all morning while thinking you were keeping secrets from me. I’m stupid and feel like a complete bitch. Please forgive me for doubting you.”
I snort. “Forgiven.”
“Just like that?” The shock in her voice is quite clear. “Don’t you want to yell at me, steal my favorite shoes, or something equally mean?”
“Yeah.” I nod. I try and hold back a smile. “Trust me Sasha, two weeks with Dimples, wanting to play with all your important papers, and attacking your feet in the middle of the night, is all the payback I need.”
The panic on her face sends me into a fit of laughter. Sasha has never owned her own pet, so she has absolutely no clue what she is in for. I think it will be good for her, plus Dimples is going to have so much fun torturing her for me.
We finish our meal and spend the rest of our time on less stressful topics. I hate that Tony couldn’t meet with us today. It seems, he got a call today from his sister, who was stranded on the side of the road with a blown-out front tire. Being the Saint he is, he rushed out at the last minute to go pick her up. He is such a great guy, I don’t understand why he is still single.
“I’ve got to go back to work,” she groans, reaching for the check and placing down enough cash to cover both our meals, plus a tip.
“I thought it was my turn to pay?” I protest.
“Nope, its mine,” she says letting her hair fall forward, creating a veil that covers most of her face. She’s lying, I know she is, but for once, I’m too worn-out to fight about it. I drop down a few more dollars, giving the waitress an extra-large tip, and follow her down the aisle to where James is already standing, and waiting for me.
Pulling Sasha close, I g
ive her a big hug. “I’m going to miss you,” I say, trying to keep from crying. “Take good care of Dimples for me,” I add giggling through the tears that are threatening to unleash.
Sasha’s lips purse, and I stifle another laugh, delighting in her apprehension of my little fur ball, as we walk out onto the sidewalk. The air is much cooler than before, signaling a cold front on the horizon. Texas weather is so unpredictable.
Wrapping her arms around me one last time, she pulls me close, and whispers in my ear, “Give him hell, and make him work hard for it, baby girl. Don’t let him off easy.”
Promising to do just that I climb back into the car with James and head back to work. I have so much to do. I need to finish up on all of my files, get my bills paid in advance, and mentally prepare myself for later today, when once again, I will be face to face, with the one man, who will no doubt be my undoing.
Chapter 9 - Daemon
“We are ready when you are, boss,” Floyd, my pilot confirms, while walking out of the cock-pit and awaiting my next set of orders. Floyd has been my personal pilot since I bought my first plane at the age of twenty-two. The moment I started making money, I started spending it, buying large purchases, while trying to fill the void of having nothing for so many years.
It took me awhile to realize that no matter how many possessions I owned or how much money you I had stored in the bank, it wouldn’t change my past. James helped me to understand that. He and his wife took care of Trey and I when everyone else shut us out. Before them, it was a normal occurrence to be sent to bed with our stomachs grumbling from hunger. I sometimes still wake up in a cold sweat with horrible dreams, remembering that empty feeling.
“Thank you Floyd, I murmur, never taking my eyes off the empty tarmac outside the small window of my plane. “The remaining passengers should be here momentarily then we’ll be ready to take off. Please help them with their luggage when they arrive,” I add giving him a dismissive nod.
