Текст книги "Chosen"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

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CHAPTER 19

The fate of the world?

Frey is so solemn, so serious, it takes all my strength not to insult him by replying with a derisive laugh. Instead, I temper it down to a derisive snort.

“Frey, my friend, do you hear yourself? You know me. You’ve been through some of the worse times of my life with me. What makes you think anyone in his or her right mind would put the fate of the world in my hands?”

He closes his eyes for a moment. Shakes his head slowly. “You constantly denigrate yourself. But I have seen you at some of the worst times of your life and you always choose the right road, the moral path. This time, though, choices may not be so clear. Williams and Underwood are powerful vampires. They will try to influence or coerce you. You need to be on guard now more than ever.”

Listen to him, Anna,Lance’s own concern burns into my subconscious. You have to protect yourself.

“Protect myself? From what?” I look from Lance to Frey. “What do you expect me to do? How do I protect myself? Hide in a cave? Abandon everyone I care about? What?”

Lance and Frey have no answers. I see it in the worry that shadows their eyes, the grim set of mouths drawn tight with concern. I also see that it’s up to me to put an end to this nonsense. The Chosen One will have to wait. There is another more pressing problem to take care of first—Underwood has to pay for what he did to Lance.

I push myself away from the table and stand. “I suggest we go home. David is going to be wondering where the hell I am. Lance, will you come with me? Frey?”

The two men exchange looks, probably thoughts, but thoughts they keep from me. Lance gives in with a shrug. “When do you want to go?”

I pause, pretending to think about it when in reality, my path is already set. “Tomorrow morning, first thing. Lance, why don’t you take Frey into town for dinner? I’m beat. I think I’ll turn in.”

They look at me as if I am crazy to suggest they leave me alone.

Gives me a chance to throw the foolishness back at them. “Hey. You don’t think I can take care of myself? I walk through fire. The Chosen One, remember?”

Frey’s lips tip up. Even Lance’s shoulders relax a bit.

“And I’m not alone. Adele is here. It’s early. If you leave now, you’ll be back before dark. Nothing bad happens before dark. You’ve seen enough slasher flicks to know that.”

There’s still too much hesitation in his eyes. “Look, I bet there’s not much to eat in the house. Whatever Adele has been feeding the hosts is probably gone. Frey is a meat eater. How long has it been since he’s had a good steak?”

Frey’s mouth twitches at the word “steak.”

“See?” I smile, big and bright. “Go. It’s the least you can do, Lance. If I wasn’t still a little shaky, I’d come, too.”

“Well,” Lance says finally. “I can take Frey to a steak house I know in the neighborhood. It’s close. We’ll be back in less than an hour.”

“Good.” I rise up on my toes and brush my lips against his. “See you in an hour.”

I’m practically dancing with impatience, waiting while the two men go upstairs, change clothes, come back down, issue a hundred directives about door locks and alarm systems and finally, finally, head out.

Repairs on the garage haven’t been made yet so the Jag, a rental car Lance arranged to have delivered to the house and Adele’s little Prius are all lined up in the driveway. The men head for the rental car.

Adele joins me at the door as I’m waving them off. All the hosts have been safely sent home and she looks tired and relieved that the crisis has past. “I think I’m going to my room,” she says. “Unless you need something?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I reply. “Julian Underwood’s address.”

She throws me a puzzled frown. “Why?”

“I lost an earring Friday night. At Julian’s. He called while we were on our way back here and said he’d found it. Since we’re leaving early tomorrow morning, this is my only chance to get it.”

In spite of my incredible ability to lie on demand, she doesn’t look convinced. “Why not wait until Lance gets home? Let him take you?”

“Did you see how tired he is? I’ll bet he hasn’t slept in forty-eight hours. When he gets back, I’m taking him straight to bed.”

I throw a little wink in for good measure.

She gives me a “too much information” look. Still, she hesitates. “Are you sure you’re up to driving yourself? I could take you.”

I smile, pat her arm. “You are too kind. But I wouldn’t dream of imposing.”

She gives in with a shrug. “I’ll write the address down.”

She pulls a small notebook out of a credenza near the front door. She prints the address in neat, precise, block letters. “Do you need directions?”

“No. Thanks. I have GPS in the car.”

She starts to turn around and in spite of how anxious I am to get going, I find myself stopping her with a hand on her arm. “Thank you, Adele. For what you did for me.”

She nods and pats my hand. “You are good for Lance. I can see that. I’m happy I could help.”

We exchange the kind of smile that two people who share a common bond often do—warm, sincere, protective, touched with concern. She loves Lance, too.

I watch as she strides away. If something happens to me tonight, I’m glad she’s here.

Not that I expect anything to happen to me. In fact, just the opposite. I expect tonight to resolve the threat against Lance and me once and for all.

With that thought, I run upstairs. Change into jeans and a T-shirt, slip on tennis shoes. Then I’m out the front door.

* * *

It takes me fifteen minutes to find Underwood’s address. I glance at my watch. Doesn’t leave too much time to beat Lance and Frey back home. I lose another five minutes because the address turns out to be a sprawling resort called Lake La Quinta. When I locate the lobby and ask for Julian Underwood at the front desk, I’m asked if I want his suite or the suite of one of his guests. Evidently, he has the whole spread.

At my reply, I’m told he’s staying in the Lakeside suite and given directions. I hear the clerk telephoning Julian discreetly as I walk away. If not for vampire hearing, I’d never have caught it.

Rolling lawns, lush gardens and views of the Santa Rosa Mountains as backdrop fade into insignificance at the sight of the “lake” that fronts the property. I don’t know if it’s man-made or natural, but the amount of water surrounding this desert oasis in drought-plagued Southern California is remarkable.

Underwood must be watching for me because he opens the door before I ring. He looks surprised to see me. Surprised and suspicious. But he cloaks those emotions quickly behind a façade of cordiality.

“Anna. What an unexpected pleasure.”

All the way over, I’ve braced myself for the onslaught of emotion I would likely experience when I once again face this monster. For he is a monster. If I hadn’t been convinced of it before, what he did to Lance proves it beyond any doubt. First the beating, then risking Lance’s life with the fire. His disregard for life churns the fury in my stomach like acid.

But it’s different this time. I was unprepared at the bar, ignorant of the pain he was capable of inflicting. Now I know. Now I’m filled with powerful emotions of my own—rage and the need for revenge.

I have to smother those feelings. Underwood can’t know what’s really behind this visit. There isn’t time.

Not now.

Underwood stands aside and motions me into his suite. His hair is loose today, falling to his shoulders in burnished waves of gold. He’s dressed in slacks and an open-neck shirt, Gucci loafers on his feet. In the confined space of a room, his cologne assaults my nose. It’s cloying with strong undertones of something flowery and bitter. Makes me want to stand as far away from him as possible.

“I heard there was some trouble at Lance’s.” He says it like one might comment on gossip heard about a stranger.

I nod. “A gas explosion. The water heater blew up.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“Not seriously.”

“Good.” His smile is gratuitous, rehearsed. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

I ignore the platitude, look around. We’re standing in a living room with two sets of double doors leading out to a deck that fronts the lake. In front of the lake is a pool. More water. Around that pool lounge the five women who accompanied Underwood and his entourage to Melvyn’s. Bikinied, waxed, gorgeous. I wonder which one Lance had that night. My gut clenches at the image the thought triggers. The animal writhes with jealousy.

Swallow it down.

No time for this. Focus. I shift my concentration to the surroundings, the room, to clear my head. Simple furniture. A sofa covered in striped silk damask, a matching chair, an oak credenza. All in muted tones of cream and white. From where I stand, I can see two bedrooms flanking the living room.

“Nice digs.”

“Thank you. It’s my home away from home.”

“You have the whole resort to yourself?”

“I know the owner. We have an understanding.”

“I’ll bet you do.” I’ll bet Underwood gets anything he wants. One way or the other.

Like Williams.

He motions to the coffee table, set with two glasses and an open bottle of wine. “Would you join me in a glass of wine?”

Two glasses? I suspect the second wasn’t meant for me.

Is he in one of the bedrooms? I probe, discreetly, to see if I detect another vampire presence. But Williams is adept at shielding himself. I pull my thoughts back.

Focus.

I shake my head. “I can’t stay. I’m here to make you a deal.”

He steeples his fingers and tilts his head, a gesture of polite curiosity. But his expression is tinged with humor, too, as if he finds the thought that I’d come to offer hima deal absurd.

But it’s why I’m here. To protect Lance and Frey until I find out what they want. Knowledge . . . then revenge.

“Yes. Here it is. From this moment on, you will leave Lance alone. You will never bother him again. Nor will you go after anyone else I care about. Not my family. Not my partner David. Not the attendant at my car wash or the clerk who takes my dry cleaning or the cashier at my corner liquor store. If any one of them so much as breaks a nail, I will make you sorry. I will make you pay. Do we understand each other?”

Underwood’s smile is dark and dangerous. “And what do I get in return for agreeing to this deal?”

I get in his face.

“What you wanted from the beginning. You get me.”

There’s a moment of silence. Underwood and I stare at each other, waiting for the other to blink first. Neither of us does. What breaks the stalemate is the sound of clapping.

We both turn.

And there in a bedroom door, like the wizard stepping out from behind the curtain, is Warren Williams.

CHAPTER 20

Williams continues to clap as he joins us in the center of the room. “Well played, Anna,” he says. “Well played.”

I ignore his entrance, glance at my watch. I’ve been gone too long. I can’t waste time pretending to be shocked or surprised by his appearance. I expected the melodramatic bastard. I look from Underwood to Williams and back again. “Do we have a deal?”

Williams wants to drag this out. He’s enjoying the moment. I’m giving him what he’s always said he wanted, but he needs to keep me dangling. He looks tanned and relaxed and well fed, much better than the last time I saw him—skewered like a piece of meat on an iron bar. He sees the image in my head and a flash of white-hot anger blazes forth from his eyes.

You have to answer for Ortiz.

His words spark understanding. Lance. His death was to be your revenge for Ortiz, wasn’t it?

Underwood steps between us. Knock it off. There will be time for recrimination later. When we’ve accomplished what we must.

Williams takes a mental and physical step back. You’re right.He lets the tension drain from his shoulders, soften the lines around his mouth. He’s smiling again when he looks at me.

“Yes. We have a deal. If you are willing to accept your destiny. Let me guide you. Are you?”

It’s as painful as a gut wound, but I nod.

“When are you going back to San Diego?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Good. I’ll be in touch tomorrow afternoon. Expect my call.”

Underwood has been silent, his thoughts cloaked, his expression grim. He’s the one I’m most worried about. He’s the one who has the hold on Lance. Now he turns a frown on Williams. “I don’t trust her. We have her here now. How can you let her go?”

Williams lets the corners of his mouth tip up, more leer than smile. “She loses everything if she reneges. She knows that.”

Now it’s my turn. I jerk a thumb toward Underwood. “Can you control this asshole?” I feel Underwood tense at the slur. He sends a message to Williams that I’m not privy to, but Williams is still focusing on me. As long as you keep your part of the bargain, Underwood will not bother you or Lance again. You have my word.

I wish his oath inspired more confidence. But for now, it’s all I have.

* * *

The rental car is in the driveway.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Lance and Frey beat me back.

The front door flies opens as soon as I pull up. They pounce the moment my feet touch pavement.

Lance gets his shot in first. “Where the fuck did you go? Are you crazy? I told you to stay inside. Do you have any idea how worried we were when we got back and you weren’t here?”

He finally runs out of words but not anger. He grabs my shoulders and I brace myself; he looks like he wants to shake me until my teeth rattle. Instead, he crushes me to his chest and hugs me until I squeak in protest.

“Lance,” I’m finally able to gasp. “I’m all right.” I keep my thoughts carefully neutral. “Nothing happened.”

Frey has been standing quietly to the side. “Where did you go?”

“I needed some air, that’s all. I took a drive.”

Lance has my face in his hands. “Why didn’t you wait for us to get back? We would have taken you for a drive. God. I was so worried.”

I let the warmth of his sweet concern wash over me. “I didn’t mean to be gone so long. I’m sorry I worried you.” I glance over to Frey. “Both of you.”

Lance is smiling down at me, my reassuring words sending relief flooding through his mind and body. I hug him, burying my face in his shoulder, thoughts concealed.

When I look over at Frey, however, he’s frowning. His expression says he knows bullshit when he hears it. For once I’m glad he no longer has access to my head.

* * *

Lance and I have retired to his bedroom, Frey to a guest room down the hall. For whatever reason, Frey didn’t challenge me in front of Lance or grill me about that missing hour. Maybe he wanted to wait until we were alone but the opportunity never presented itself. Lucky for me.

Lucky, too, that Adele hadn’t joined us to ask about my earring. Since we plan to leave at first light in the morning, I’m hoping she won’t get the chance.

Lance is waiting for me in bed. I slide next to him and he leans over me. His fingers trace the contours of my face, brush my lips.

“Are you too tired?”

I pull him closer, pressing my body against his. “Have you ever known me to be too tired?”

He lets his hands roam my body. He’s willing to go slow, coax and tease, do all the work. Find that sweet spot with fingers and lips and bring me to the brink. But my blood is already on fire, my body humming with the need to feel him inside. I guide him into me, urge him with hips and thighs, whisper encouragement until neither of us can hold out any longer. We come together in an explosive flood of release.

Later, lying still and quiet next to him, I know.

No matter what happens, what I did tonight to protect him—to protect everyone—was the right thing to do.

* * *

We’re on the move by first light. Adele appears from her room just when we’re heading out the door, but she’s still too groggy with sleep to manage more than a quick hug and wave before closing the door behind us.

One disaster avoided.

I throw Lance the keys. Frey takes shotgun.

That leaves me alone in the backseat. Good. The guys can talk about whatever manly things guys talk about and I can rest my head against the back of the seat and be alone with my thoughts. Cloakedthoughts, just in case Frey urges Lance to drop in unannounced for a visit. I know he still has questions about last night. It would be like him to send Lance on a spy mission into my head.

Lance. He is so good. So trusting. He hasn’t known me as long as Frey. Do I feel bad about misleading him? No. I suspect I should be more concerned about this pact I made with Williams and Underwood than hiding it from Lance. I try to dredge up anxiety but honestly, I keep coming back to the old adage: the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. Or in this case, the twodevils. It won’t be easy working with Williams, but the sooner I let him make his pitch, the sooner I can turn him down. And take him down. Along with Underwood.

First, though, I get the answers I need. The answers Williams has been dancing around for the last year.

I can’t pretend to be unaffected by Frey’s reaction about this “chosen” thing. A Chosen One is usually the destroyer of . . . something. One of the first things I learned after becoming vampire was that a person’s character doesn’t change. If he is good as a human, he will remain good as a vamp. There is no amount of money or power that could tempt me to ignore what I’ve held dear my entire life—family, friends and now, Lance. Frey knows all this. How can he think I could be influenced any other way?

I watch Lance and Frey bantering back and forth in the front seat. Yesterday, Frey was being melodramatic and overly protective. Lance bought into it because he cares for me. As I do for him.

But there is another piece to the puzzle that has yet to be solved.

How was it that Underwood affected me so powerfully at our first meeting? It couldn’t be simply the magic—I had the same reaction with that biker, Black. No magic there. He was purely human. No, it couldn’t be whothey were; it was whatthey were. Malevolent. Malicious. Mean.

Jesus. Is this going to happen to me every time I come across a nasty piece of work? I’m going to have to learn to either handle the effects or suppress them, or I won’t have much choice except to spend the rest of my vampire existence hidden away in a cave.

The effort to keep my thoughts private is taxing. Frey and Lance are blathering on about baseball—a subject I can’t believe either of them really finds interesting. Acronyms like ERAs and RBIs punctuate the conversation. It makes me smile.

I tune in for a while, the sound of their voices relaxing me. It would be easy to drift off. I shouldn’t try to fight it. Truth is, I’m not feeling up to full strength yet. I’m going to need all my energy to face the coming battle.

It will be a battle. Of that I’m certain. Just not the one Frey envisions. This will be a very personal battle with Williams and Underwood on one side, me on the other.

But a battle for what purpose?

I’ve never thought of Williams as evil. Just misguided and as focused on his own objectives as I am. He’s working with Underwood, though, so I can’t trust those objectives. Underwood is the older, more powerful vampire, and he is without scruples. His influence on Williams can’t be good. I wish I’d known about their alliance earlier.

I close my eyes. I wish Lance had trusted me enough to tell me the truth about the way we met.

Well, too late to obsess about that now. I’m tired. I’m cocooned in soft, warm leather. Two of my favorite men are close. I feel safe, protected.

I let go, let the soft monotone of voices from the front seat lull me into a gentle sleep.

CHAPTER 21

I awaken to the sound of a slamming car door. Frey’s smiling face peers down at me as he opens the rear passenger door.

“About time you woke up.”

We’ve arrived at Frey’s condo complex. He holds the door open so I can climb out. “Would you like to come in?”

“Is Layla around?” It’s an automatic response. Layla is his girlfriend. She doesn’t like me. Maybe because she knows Frey and I have had sex. Maybe because I always seem to be calling Frey away from her for one crisis or another. Or maybe (and most likely) it’s because he always comes.

Frey can’t read my thoughts, but he may as well be able to. “I don’t know what is between you two,” he says, shaking his head as I climb out. “But yes, Layla is most likely home.”

I give him a peck on the cheek. “Then some other time.” I grab his hand as he turns. “Thank you.”

He returns the squeeze and lets himself in through the security gate. Lance and I watch until he disappears down the walk.

I scoot in beside Lance and we head for the cottage. For the first time, it dawns on me that I’ve been gone four days. Four days. That makes today Tuesday.

Shit.

I grab for my cell phone, only to discover that the battery is dead.

Lance glances at me. “What’s up?”

I’m rummaging in the glove compartment for the charger. “I think David and I had a job yesterday. He’s going to be pissed.”

I pull out the cord and plug it into the dashboard. When the power comes up, I wince to see I have six messages from my partner. Each message is worse than the one before. David starts out mildly curious that he can’t reach me, veers to concerned when my phone goes right to voice mail, borders on irritated when he goes by the cottage and finds me gone and develops into full-blown anger when Monday comes and I haven’t bothered to get in touch. His last message is a brief, “Goddamn it, Anna. Where the hell are you?”

“Bad news?” Lance asks.

“I may be out of a job.”

Lance grins and puts his own cell phone to his ear. His smile melts away, though, as he listens to hismessages. In fact, I’d be willing to bet his expression now mirrors the one on my face a few moments before.

“Uh-oh,” I say. “What did you forget?”

He glances at his watch, which makes me do the same thing. It’s a little before nine.

“Jesus,” he says. “I’m supposed to be in L.A. for a catalog shoot in thirty minutes. How about dropping me off at the airport? I’ll catch a shuttle.” He doesn’t wait for a reply but punches in a number and tells whoever is on the other end that he’s been delayed and will be a couple of hours late. Then he rings off.

He steers the car onto the road, a frown puckering his brow, until a sudden thought makes him shake his head and sit up straight in the seat. “I’m not going to L.A. What the hell am I thinking? I’m staying here with you.”

He starts to reach for his cell phone again. I stop him. “Of course you’re going to L.A. I’ll be fine. If something happens, Frey is a phone call away.”

And nothing is going to happen. After all, Williams and Underwood think I’m working with them now. Of course, Lance doesn’t know that.

Lance’s expression tells me I haven’t convinced him. “What if there’s another attack? What if Williams tries again? You need someone around to watch your back. I can’t do that from L.A.”

He can’t do it here, either. Right now, the best thing he can do for meis to get himselfout of harm’s way.

“Lance, trust me. I can take care of anything Williams throws my way. How long will you be gone?”

“I can be back tomorrow night.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll be with David the rest of the day and probably most of tomorrow. No need for you to give up a paying gig to babysit me. Serious groveling takes time.”

He actually manages a grin at that. “Will you go right to the office?”

“May as well get the ass chewing over with.”

We’re pulling into the commuter terminal at Lindbergh Field. Lance’s expression morphs again to pinched and anxious. He stops at the curb but doesn’t jump out. “I think this is a bad idea. I shouldn’t leave you.”

I give him a little push. “Go. You can’t spend the rest of your life tailing me. Besides, I have to face David. I have more to fear from him right now than either Williams or Underwood. And what’s the worse that can happen? He shoots me? I can handle bullets. Now go.”

* * *

In spite of what I told Lance, I don’t go right to the office. I need to change clothes. I do take the precaution of parking on Mission, though, instead of pulling into my driveway. No sense taking the chance that Williams hasn’t planned another surprise. It would be just like him—a “don’t fuck with me” gesture.

But I don’t see or sense anything out of the ordinary when I approach the cottage. In thirty minutes, I’m back on the road.

Now, during the drive to the office, all I can think about is the reception I’m likely to get from David. We’ve been partners for several years, but it’s only been the last year, since I became vampire, that our relationship has been tested. I disappear for days at a time (this weekend a case in point), can’t do many of the things we used to do like eating out (can’t ingest food) or going to the gym (large mirrors everywhere) and can’t seem to tolerate any female he’s attracted to (is it my fault that I am a better judge of character than he is?)

We’ve almost called it quits before, and truth is, maybe we should now. It’s not fair to him. But the other truth is, I like him. I like the job we do. A lot. And I need the money. I don’t have a trust fund to fall back on. I refuse to tap into Avery’s legacy.

The other logical alternative for me would be to go back to teaching. Frey teaches. And it works for him.

Just the thought of being back in a classroom turns my cold blood even colder. Criminals, otherworldly villains, monsters. I can handle them with one hand tied behind my back. Hormonal teenagers, though, are something else.

No. As self-serving as it is, I need to ease David over this latest bump. I can do it. I’ve had practice.

Still, anxiety tightens my shoulders as I approach the office. David’s Hummer squats like an obscene yellow beetle in its designated parking space so I know he’s inside. The irony is not lost on me that here I am, a vampire, nervous about facing a mere mortal.

I blow out a breath, run my hands through my hair, tug at the bottom of my sweater and peek into the office.

David is at the desk. He doesn’t notice me at the door. He doesn’t notice me because he’s focused on the woman sitting in mychair opposite him. He doesn’t notice me because he’s thrown his head back and is laughing.

Laughing.

It pisses me off. He’s supposed to be brooding. He’s supposed to be concerned. He’s supposed to be on the telephone trying to reach me again.

He is not supposed to be laughing.

I shove through the door, startling him. He recovers and beams a smile at me. The woman turns, smiling, too.

“Hey, Anna,” David says. “I’d like you to meet our new partner.”

Partner?

My back stiffens. What the fuck does that mean?

I can’t think of anything to say to that startling revelation. So I stare—at them both.

She’s gotten to her feet. She’s wearing jeans and a white cotton shirt tucked and cinched with a broad leather belt. She’s taller than me—probably five-nine or so—and sinewy thin. She has auburn hair drawn straight back from her face in a ponytail. She’s one of the lucky females who can pull that off. Probably because of those big green eyes and a full-lipped smile that show off a set of too-perfect teeth. She has come away from the chair to stand in front of me, hand outstretched.

“Hi, Anna. I’m Tracey Banker. Pleased to meet you.”

I take her hand, give it a perfunctory shake. Let it drop. She’s wearing perfume—too much of it—something woodsy with undertones of burned sugar and bitter almonds. It makes my nose twitch.

Tracey glances back at David. “Well, I’m sure you two have things to discuss. I’ll leave you to it. I’ll check with you tomorrow morning?”

David nods, and she brushes past me. He watches her as she leaves, then turns his gaze on me. “Well? Aren’t you going to yell at me? Ask me what the fuck I was thinking? Tell me I had no right to take on a new partner without your okay?”

He’s glaring, muscles tense, jaw tight, ready to launch a counterattack.

“No.”

The answer startles me as much as it does David. I ignore the comically puzzled expression on his face and sink into my chair. “Where did you find her?”

He looks at me out of the corners of his eyes, as if he can’t trust my reaction, and takes his own seat across from me. “Remember the kickboxing classes we used to take?”

His emphasis is on the “we used to take.” I don’t comment, just nod.

“She’s the new instructor at the gym now. Ex-cop, wounded in the line of duty. Took an early retirement and has been looking for something to occupy her time besides teaching. We went for coffee after a class last week, I told her what we do. She said she’d be interested in filling in if we needed it. Yesterday, I needed it. You weren’t around. I called her. She came. We made the collar.”

He says it matter-of-factly, no subtle undertones, no recrimination, no opening for rebuttal.

Makes me feel guiltier.

“What business arrangement have you made with her?”

“Fifty-fifty split if it’s just her and me. If the three of us work a job, she gets twenty-five percent, you and I split the rest. She ponies up twenty percent of the monthly office expenses regardless of the number of jobs she works. We cover her insurance, reimburse car expenses.”

“You got that in writing?”

He picks up a contract from the middle of his desk. “Just needs your signature.”

He holds it out, still looking as if he expects me to start ranting. No one is more surprised than me that I’m not. I pick up a pen, take the paper from his hand and sign my name on the dotted line.

David slips the signed contract into a folder on his desk. “So. Do you want to tell me where you were yesterday?”

Battling monsters.

“Lance and I went to Palm Springs for the weekend. He got—sick. I stayed to take care of him. I am sorry. Really.”

“You lost your cell phone?”

I wince, smile deprecatingly. “Battery went dead. I forgot to pack the charger.”

He’s weighing my words, assessing my expression, calculating the sincerity of my apology. I don’t blame him. He’s heard the same story more than once. Only the circumstances of whyI let him down ever change.

I expect him to respond the way I would—with something snarky. I knew we had a job on Monday so where were we that I couldn’t get to a phone? The dark side of the moon?

Instead, he surprises me by asking, “Is Lance all right?”

“Yeah. Thanks for asking.”

He pushes away from the desk, folder in hand, and crosses the room to a filing cabinet against the far wall. He places the folder in a drawer and closes it. When he comes back to the desk, he slips a jacket off the back of his chair and drapes it over his arm.