“Uh…excuse me?”
Irene glanced over her shoulder at the three young boys standing behind her. She’d place them at about thirteen or fourteen. She’d never been very good with guessing ages, though.
“Yes?”
The boys glanced at each other and then back at her. “Are you Dr. Irene Conridge?”
Irene’s eyes narrowed the tiniest bit and one of the boys looked away from her.
“Yes. Why?”
The boys suddenly turned away and began whispering to each other, then they pushed one of them back over to the table they’d come from. Irene studied the table and saw maps, many-sided dice, books, and enough junk food to destroy an army. One of the books had a dragon on the cover in all his flamey glory. She stifled a smile. She recalled quite a few late nights as a powerful mage.
The one sent back to the table searched through his oversized backpack and returned with a magazine. She immediately recognized her face on the cover and remembered that she’d written a piece on the Chaos Theory for a science magazine several months back. She’d forgotten all about it.
“Could you sign this for us?”
Irene took the magazine. “Of course.” Before she could ask for a pen, Van Holtz pushed one into her hand. She didn’t even bother to look at him to see his expression. She could imagine the smugness all on her own, thank you.
She got the boys’ names and signed the magazine, not daring to ask them how they would share this particular item. While signing, she asked, “So what campaign are you gentlemen running?”
Their eyes widened in surprise. “You play D&D?” one of them asked in awe. He had an unfortunate case of acne she prayed he’d grow out of sooner rather than later.
“Played, actually. It’s been a few years. Did you buy your models or make them yourselves?” Before she knew it, they’d dragged her over to the table and several other science and math geeks joined them. The discussion zigged between gaming to the Chaos Theory to science in general to math and back to gaming. She did her best to answer all their questions and glanced around several times, looking for Van Holtz. She didn’t see him and she put the moment of cynicism out of her mind that he’d left her there in disgust. He could be an ass, but she didn’t see him being that big an ass. So she continued answering questions and pretended not to worry.
Van sat on a bench outside the comic book store. He’d stopped by the local booksellers and picked up a book called Science Made Easy. One chapter in and he was already lost.
“Well, hello, Mr. Van Holtz.”
Van immediately recognized that forced sultry voice and barely stopped his wince in time. He looked up and made himself smile. “Farica. Hi.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for my date.”
She blinked a few times before she caught herself, managing to keep that bright smile. “Date, eh? And who’s the lucky girl?”
As if on cue, Irene walked out of the comic book store, her geeky fan club right behind her.
“Yes,” she was saying. “I have the program every summer, open to students between thirteen and sixteen years old.” The boys followed behind her and couldn’t see as she desperately mouthed, “Help. Me.”
Van grinned, feeling his heart squeezed from both sides by this incredibly odd woman. He’d fallen hard for her, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it except go along for the ride.
“What about grades?” one of them asked Irene.
“It’s more about potential.”
She had the most adorable expression on her face. Like he’d trapped her in a room with rabid chipmunks. He could tell she wouldn’t be able to keep the “nice” thing going for much longer, so Van decided to give her a reprieve from hero worship.
He didn’t have to do much, just stand up. The boys stopped speaking and stared at him in mute horror while he towered over them.
“It’s time to go,” he stated simply, staring at the young men to make it clear that meant “go away.” They did, but only after shaking Irene’s hand more times than seemed necessary.
“You okay?” he asked when they’d finally walked away.
“I’m exhausted and now I’m starving.”
“Then let’s get you fed. Oh. Wait. I got you this.” He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a T-shirt he’d picked up at a fun novelty shop a few doors down while she’d handled her fans.
Irene opened the shirt and read the words out loud, “I DOS, therefore I am.”
“I thought that sounded appropriately nerdlike.” He grinned, but Irene had such a strange expression on her face he became worried he’d made some sort of geek faux pas. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”
Irene swallowed and shook her head. “No. I…” She took a deep breath. “I love it. Thank you.”
“You sure? I can take it back.”
She held the shirt to her chest like he’d tried to rip it from her. “I said I love it,” she practically snarled. His mother had sounded like that once when she thought a hyena came a little too close to her pups. “Back off, Van Holtz.”
He lifted his hands up, palms showing. “Okay. Okay. Calm down.”
“I’m hungry,” she said while keeping a tight grip on her shirt.
“Now, Dr. Conridge, don’t you think a proper thank-you is in order for my lovely gift?”
She stared at him for a moment before glancing around the mall, her face turning red. “Here?”
He closed his eyes and forced himself not to laugh. “Not that, doc. That’s for later. When we’re alone or we find a bathroom. A kiss will do.”
“Oh!” Her face turned redder. “Oh.” She went up on her toes and kissed him on the lips. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I really do love it.”
“Good. Now let’s feed.”
Van grabbed the shopping bags and tried to lead her off, but she stared behind him. “What?” he asked.
“Um…” She nodded to a spot over his shoulder.
He turned around expecting to see some kind of trouble, but all he saw was the shocked and very red face of Farica Bader. “Oh. See ya, Farica. Tell your mom I said hi.”
Van took Irene’s hand and headed off to a restaurant he thought she might like. Of course, the fact that the woman mostly ate peanut butter and crackers suggested she wouldn’t be too finicky about her meal.
Irene didn’t know what shocked her more. The gift Van Holtz gave her—the most thoughtful gift she’d ever received from a man…any man? Or the way he ignored long-legged, man-eater Farica Bader? Hard to decide, since both were so exceptionally amazing.
Van Holtz took her to a restaurant inside the mall and they were quickly seated by a window. Lovely, more mall visuals.
“You know Farica Bader isn’t going to be happy that you dismissed her so easily.”
He glanced up from the menu. “Who?”
“Farica Bader. You were just talking to her two seconds ago.”
“Oh. Her. Yeah. She’ll get over it, I’m sure.”
Irene stared at the lemonade put in front of her by the waiter. “She seems to like you.”
“She likes the Van Holtz name more. The Baders are a small Pack. They’d love to be connected to us so they wouldn’t have to lose any more territory to the Magnus or Smith Packs. Now what are you thinking about getting to eat?”
Irene realized she still had her wonderful T-shirt gripped in her hands, so she made herself put it down on the seat beside her. Then she worried she’d forget it, so she laid it on top of her leg, folding half of it under her thigh.
“What are you doing?”
Her head snapped up. “Nothing. I was thinking burger,” she spit out in a rush.
“A burger works. But don’t eat too much. I’m cooking us dinner tonight.”
“Van Holtz, you don’t have to—”
“Why don’t you call me Van like everybody else?”
“You want me to call you ‘of’?”
Van Holtz blinked. �
�What?”
“Van is Dutch for ‘of.’ So you’re asking me to call you ‘of,’ which I have issues with. Although Holtz means timber or wood. So your name, literally translated, is ‘of wood.’” She covered her mouth when she suddenly giggled, shocking them both. “Sorry.” She coughed to stop the laughter. “Just, after last night, I find that name quite fitting.”
“You know, Irene, you’re the only person I know who can insult me and praise me all at the same time.”
“It’s a teacher thing.” Her hand automatically reached for her T-shirt, stroking it lightly with her fingertips. “How about I call you Holtz? I’d much rather call you ‘wood’ than ‘of.’”
“You’ll be the only one.” He put down his menu. “It’ll be your own little pet name for me.”
Irene cleared her throat. “I guess.”
“I like you having your own name for me.”
“I’ve always had pet names for you, but you always told me they were rude.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Brat.”
The waiter arrived and Irene ordered her food first. While Holtz ordered his, Irene looked out the window. After several seconds, she sighed. “He must be new.”
“Who must be new?”
Irene motioned to the man on the other side of the mall floor. “Him. He must be new.”
“New what?”
“Agent. An American, based on that tacky haircut. You know, hair gel is a privilege, not a right. Anyway, the good ones I don’t spot for hours. I spotted his sophomoric butt about ten minutes after we left your apartment.” The waiter returned with salads and Irene tore her eyes away from the bright red sweatshirt the man had the nerve to wear to eat Russian dressing–covered lettuce. That’s when she realized Holtz was staring at her.
“What?”
“Why are agents following you?”
“There are always agents following me.” She shrugged and sipped her drink. “When I was younger, about twelve, they actually took me into custody for my own safety.” She snorted. “They really just wanted to keep me out of the hands of the Soviets. They brought teachers to the compound where they were keeping me. And I had to stay there all day with no friends, no family—not that they would have been much help, but still.”
“What happened?”
“They let me go.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I blew up half the compound and leveled a city street about thirty miles away. It was an accident. Sort of.”
“You mean like you hitting me with a two-by-four and stabbing me in the leg?”
“Those were accidents. If I really wanted to stab you, I’d at least aim for the face.”
“That’s lovely, Irene.”
“Sorry. Knowing they’re still following me annoys me.”
“They don’t do it all the time?”
“No.”
“Then why are they doing it now?”
Irene didn’t answer him and Holtz leaned over the table a bit.
“What have you done?”
“What makes you think I did anything?”
“Because you’re not looking me in the eye.”
When she had to look at him to see his face, she knew she really hadn’t been looking him in the eye.
“I won’t discuss this with you.”
“Why? Because I won’t understand it or because you did something you know is wrong?”
“That’s not fair.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned over the table so they couldn’t be heard. “It’s not like any of us go into this looking for something…troublesome. I had the best intentions.”
“Then what happened?”
She sighed. “Side effects. Very bad side effects.” Side effects screwed the best experiments.
“And these people want it for the bad side effects?”
“Most likely.” She doubted they wanted it for its nature-nourishing powers.
“Then destroy it…or was that why you were out in the woods that night?”
“Yes. That’s why I was out there. And I did destroy it…mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Don’t snarl at me,” she snarled back. “You have no concept of how many hours I put into that. All the work I did. You expect me to just toss it all away?”
Holtz took a deep breath. “First I need to ask you, is there any danger to the stuff you dumped out there?”
“No. Not at all. I give you my word.”
“Good.” Then he stared at her for the longest time before saying, “And second…don’t you understand you have nothing to prove?”
Irene flinched. “What does that mean?”
“It means you don’t have anything to prove to anyone but yourself.”
“That’s bullshit, Holtz. In this business, you’re constantly proving yourself. Constantly striving for better. Otherwise—”
“Otherwise what? Otherwise you can enjoy a weekend out with your boyfriend? Otherwise the government stops following you around? Otherwise you can allow yourself to relax and simply enjoy your existence on this planet? Would that be such a bad thing?”
She specifically chose to ignore the boyfriend comment and instead said, “When all you’re recognized for is your vast intelligence, you’re loath to lose it.”
“You won’t lose that. You’ve already made your mark, Irene. Now you can relax and do whatever the hell you want.”
“No. I can’t. Every day more come along wanting to unseat me from my hard-won throne. Wanting to take what is mine. Think of it in territorial terms, Holtz. Something you can understand. This is my domain. I have no intention of giving it up to anyone.”
“So you risk yourself and others by keeping something you know is dangerous?”
Irene dropped back in her seat. She rested her elbows on the table, laced her fingers together, and rested her forehead against her knuckles. She absolutely detested the man for being right.
“Look, Irene, I’m not saying you need to take care of it this minute. I know you have it someplace safe. But think about it, baby. Remember how you felt over the hyena? Imagine that on a global scale.”
Irene shut her eyes against the image but said, “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” He placed his napkin on the table. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back in a minute.” Then he was up and gone. She really hoped he would come back, because she had only five dollars in her pocket. Not enough to cover the bill. Of course, she could accost the agent outside. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d used the fact that she’d spotted them to her advantage. She didn’t necessarily think it was the right thing to do, but it was fun.
The food had arrived by the time Holtz slid back in the booth, and Irene had successfully wrangled her emotions so that she once again had herself in complete control.
Holtz took the ketchup from her and poured an obscene amount on his burger and over his fries.
“Everything okay?” she asked, picking up a fry and forcing herself to eat.
“It is now.” He put the ketchup back in the middle of the table and picked up his burger. “But, Irene, from now on you have to tell me this stuff.” When her eyes narrowed, he shook his head. “No. Not about that. I mean about when you’ve got people following you.”
“Why?”
His mouth full of burger, he mumbled, “How else can I ensure your safety if I don’t know what’s going on?”
“Ensure my safety? Why would you need to ensure my safety?”
“Don’t piss me off, Irene. I’m already irritated because you didn’t tell me about this before. Protection is not something the Van Holtzes play around with.” He took another enormous bite and she realized he’d most likely devour that humongous burger in the next sixty seconds. “But you’re covered. Starting Monday. Until then you’re with me anyway.”
Irene didn’t like the sound of that. “Starting Monday what?”
“You’ll have protection.”
“Protection? I don’t want protection.”
“But you’re getting it.”
“But—”
“There’s no arguing this, doc. If the government feels it’s necessary to have you watched, then you need protection and I’ll make sure you have it.”
Irene dug her hands into her hair and stared at the Formica table. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s there to understand?”
“Everything. I mean, why are you doing this? What do you care if I have protection or not?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Do I look like I know?”
He grinned. “Nah. Ya look kind of pissed. You’re cute when you get like that.”
“Thank you,” she said flatly. “So explain to me why you feel the need to protect me?”
His sigh was long and exasperated. “Because as my lifelong mate and eventual wife, I need to make sure you’re protected.”
“Your…your wife?”
“Of course. The Van Holtz wolves marry, baby. Unlike the Magnus and Smith wolves, my children will not be bastards.”
“Children?”
“Yup. Remember? Two minimum. Although I’m leaning toward three or four total. But we can figure that out later.”
Irene stared at Van Holtz with her mouth open and her mind suddenly, blissfully blank. Years later she’d call it that “brief catatonic thing I had in the eighties.”
Holtz grinned at her, ketchup in the corner of his mouth, and glanced down at her food. “Hey, you gonna eat those fries, baby?”
Nine
“Explain to me how you get yourself into these situations.”
“Don’t start.” Irene stopped in front of her office door, pulling her keys out and maneuvering her backpack so it didn’t suddenly swing down and hit her in the face—as it had done many times before.
She’d finally finished her classes and, to quote one student, “Yay! She’s released us from our bondage of despair!” Damn smartass physicists. She’d been worse than usual, she knew. But she blamed one man for her recent less-than-pleasant attitude.
“I just don’t understand, Irene. Paul and I take off for three days to Mexico and we come back to you engaged.”
When He Was Bad Page 10
