Devilishly Wicked (17 page)

“I came to find out how last night went. Did you make the connections you needed to make?”

Tristan bristled at her question. He already felt out of sorts enough without being micromanaged by his former boss. But he was not going to let her see how agitated he was. She was always looking for chinks in his armor. He would not show her he was frazzled.

“Everything went perfectly. Not that it is any of your business anymore,” he couldn’t resist adding.

“And your awful assistant? How did that go?”

Immediately Tristan’s ire began to rise. He didn’t want to talk about Georgia with her. And he especially didn’t want to hear Finola’s catty insults.

“Again, that is none of your business,” he stated, his tone hard and final.

Finola wasn’t intimidated. “I couldn’t help noticing she wasn’t at her desk. Did she need a day to recover? Poor pudgy dear with her silly hair and horrid fashion sense. She had to realize she was out of her league last night.”

Tristan gritted his teeth, anger roiling inside him like a tsunami rising under a calm sea.

“Or did you finally do what I intended before my early retirement as head of
HOT!
? Get the pathetic wretch to sign a soul contract promising her she’d be thin and pretty and fit into this world, only to cast her straight to hell? Tell me, Tristan, did you make another one of your runs to the Jersey Shore to drop off her soulless body amid the other unfortunates there? No one would even notice a fashion faux pas like her there.”

Tristan shot out of his seat. “Get out!”

He pointed at the door. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

Finola’s pale gray eyes widened, and she rose instantly. He wasn’t sure which frightened her more, his furious tone, or the fact that his human form was slipping, revealing the demon within him. He could feel the horns poking out of his head and his muscles bulging.

Some satisfaction calmed his anger and frayed nerves as he watched her scurry to the door. Maybe this was the way to handle her. Clearly, trying to play it cool hadn’t worked.

“Nice,” came a voice from the other side of the room.

Dippy watched him, looking unimpressed. “Do you think Satan would be pleased if he knew you were having random Incredible Hulk moments? The horns and bulging muscles kind of tip off mortals that something isn’t quite right with you.”

Tristan sighed, wishing Finola had taken her chatty, opinionated canine with her.

“She was irritating me.”

“She irritates everyone,” Dippy growled. “And you gave her exactly what she wanted. She wanted you to get worked up. She’s trying to get under your skin. The more you lose your cool, the better a story she has for Satan.”

Tristan knew the annoying little mutt was right. But what was that old saying? “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” He hoped the fleabag wasn’t going to be right again.

“And she did have a valid point,” Dippy added. “You do look like hell. What exactly happened last night? Did Project Pork Personal Assistant not go as planned?”

Tristan struggled to suppress a sigh. No, it did not go as planned. He still didn’t even understand how it went. But when he’d decided to seduce Georgia and get her out of his system, he never saw her taking the initiative. He never saw his bizarre reaction to the sex. And he definitely didn’t see his obsession with her becoming more intense rather than lessening.

But he was not going to tell Dippy the Dog any of that. No one liked to hear “I told you so,” especially from the family pet.

But Tristan decided to tell him a partial truth. “No, things didn’t go as planned. Her grandmother ended up in the hospital, so that sort of put a damper on the evening’s activities.”

Sort of.

Dippy’s dark, beady gaze roamed over him; then he bobbed his furry head. “Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe you shouldn’t go there with your assistant. Clearly, you need to focus on the takeover, because for once, Finola seems to be.”

Tristan couldn’t deny that. Finola was far more interested in the takeover now than when she was running it. Of course, that was a common reaction, even for demons. You always wanted back the one thing you lost.

“All the more reason I need you to be her shadow.”

Dippy hesitated, reluctance on his fuzzy features. He obviously thought Tristan needed just as much watching as Finola.

Tristan pushed the thought aside. Okay, he was having a very strange reaction to Georgia, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t sort out and then forget. Maybe he just needed more of the voluptuous, amazingly responsive woman.

Just at the thought of being with her again, his dick sprang to life.

But as much as Tristan hated to admit it, and damn if that old clock adage wasn’t true, Dippy was right again. He had to focus on work right now. Finola was definitely plotting and planning. He needed to make sure none of her tactics worked. And there was the added job of getting his newest recruits, Higgins and Barrington, to work.

He didn’t have time to think about boning Georgia. Not to mention, she was going to be busy with her grandmother. Maybe he would consider a repeat performance with her, but right now, he had work to do.

G
abriel pushed the mail cart past the reception area of McIntyre’s office for the fifth time that day. Probably the other
HOT!
employees thought he was the most confused mail room employee ever, or the most hardworking, making rounds every hour or so.

Georgia wasn’t at work again. And unlike yesterday, he hadn’t followed her to see what she was doing. But he should have, because she didn’t appear to be coming in at all today.

He glanced at his watch. It was after four. It seemed highly unlikely that she’d bother to come in now. And there was, of course, the concern that something might have happened to her. Employees did disappear from
HOT!
Not as much as they had even a year ago, but they did disappear, and Ms. Sullivan had spent the evening with a very dangerous demon.

What if she had confronted McIntyre with the things Gabriel had told her? Would McIntyre decide it was just easier to get rid of the woman rather than tell her lies to cover himself?

Unease prickled over Gabriel’s skin. Maybe he should go to Ms. Sullivan’s residence again, but he knew he had to check in with Eugene first. His boss had been annoyed that Gabriel had gone to her apartment building.

“It makes you look too much like some potentially unbalanced coworker. Like you could be the dangerous one.”

Eugene’s tone had been calm as usual, almost blasé, but Gabriel knew his boss was not pleased with him.

Gabriel couldn’t disagree. It might not have been his best decision. But now, he felt he had to go to her apartment to check on her. What if she was in danger? Or McIntyre had already hurt her? The only way to be sure she was okay was to see if she was home. Maybe he could just call. He could get her number. Just a quick call to hear her voice and then he could hang up.

Not a great plan either, since she would see his number on her cell, or be able to *69 it on her landline. Sometimes technology didn’t make things easier. At least not when you were trying to be covert.

He would go to her place. Then he could physically see if she was okay, and he could also talk to her again. Maybe she had seen something last night that had convinced her McIntyre was not what he seemed.

Maybe.

Damn, this was all such a long shot.

He wheeled the cart back to the elevator and pressed the button for the basement level of the building. When he stepped into the mail room, the large room was bustling as always. As was now his habit, he scanned the place for Finola White. She wasn’t at her station, but then she hardly ever was.

But he saw no flashes of her signature white blond hair and white clothing. Where was she? And what was she up to?

Gabriel really wished he wasn’t the only one who seemed to care.

He sighed, and then strode toward Eugene’s office, which was little more than a particle-board box in the center of the room. Not the most private office, and as if to validate his thoughts, he heard voices as he got closer.

“Oh, Eugene, you are such a delight.”

Gabriel heard Eugene laugh. Or at least he assumed it was Eugene. He couldn’t recall ever hearing Eugene laugh, so maybe some other male was in the office, too.

“I could say the same thing about you, Ms. White.”

It was Eugene. And he seemed to be . . . flirting? Flirting with Finola White?

“So, Eugene, what does a handsome man like you do outside of managing a mail room?”

Handsome? She was laying it on thick. But then, she was clearly after something.

“My life is very dull, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Gabriel just bet she didn’t. Surely Eugene had to know she was fishing. He couldn’t be the head of the DIA and be that clueless.

“It’s true,” Eugene said. “I’d like to tell you otherwise, but all I do is work.”

“All work and no play makes Eugene a dull boy,” Finola purred, and Gabriel could just imagine her draped over Eugene’s small desk, ruffling his tidy, brown hair.

“That is also true,” Eugene said with another laugh. The sound was short and rusty, but definitely a laugh.

“Maybe you need to do something fun. Maybe you should do something fun with me.”

Gabriel waited. Eugene would never agree to that. Being with her, alone, was a risky move, especially if she knew something. But even if she didn’t, Gabriel didn’t believe for a moment her suggestion was because she was genuinely concerned about Eugene’s boring life. She was up to something, just like she had been with everyone in the mail room.

“I would like that.”

Gabriel’s breath actually caught. No. No. Eugene wouldn’t be so stupid.

Gabriel’s muscles, which he hadn’t even realized were coiled as if ready to attack, relaxed. Eugene had to have a plan. He wouldn’t fall under Finola’s spell, even though she was a very powerful demon.

“Well, think of something you’d like to do,” she said, her voice deceptively sweet, “and ask me.”

“I will,” Eugene said readily.

Gabriel saw Finola’s shadow on the floor, moving toward the doorway. He backed away, not wanting her to realize he’d been listening.

She reached the doorway, and then stopped to turn back to Eugene.

“And please don’t make me wait too long.” She wagged her fingers at Eugene, and then stepped out of the office.

Right away, she noticed Gabriel, who strolled in her direction. He hoped she would think he was just arriving there. But the slight smirk on her lips and the calculating look in her gray eyes made it hard to tell what she was thinking.

“Hello, Gabriel,” she said, her tone congenial, but he doubted very much that she was really feeling friendly.

He nodded.

She sauntered past him, her arm brushing his as she passed.

Another flirting move? Or a subtle gesture of challenge? Gabriel wasn’t sure. He didn’t trust a single thing about her.

He watched her as she headed back to her sorting station. She talked to several of the other employees, the DIA staff. Most of them seemed comfortable with her comments, responding and smiling as if she was an old friend.

Was all the DIA falling under her charm? Gabriel hated to believe the well-trained staff was so easily enchanted by her beauty and charisma. But Gabriel didn’t feel confident. He didn’t feel confident about much the DIA was doing when it came to bringing down this demonic rebellion.

Which brought him back to what he considered another bad idea, Georgia Sullivan and recruiting her. But right now he was more concerned with being sure she was safe.

Gabriel rapped on the doorframe of Eugene’s office.

Eugene looked up, his expression deadpan as usual. No sign that he’d just been flirting and laughing with a demon.

“Gabriel, I’ve been hoping you would stop by. Please come in and close the door.”

Gabriel did, glad that Eugene seemed to be somewhat aware that it was far too easy to eavesdrop on this makeshift office.

“Georgia Sullivan didn’t come in again today, did she?” Eugene said before Gabriel could tell him.

Gabriel wasn’t sure how he knew, but he simply nodded. “I’m worried about her.”

“Did Tristan McIntyre work today?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said, “although, I didn’t see much of him. He mainly stayed in his office. I think I should go check on Ms. Sullivan, just to be safe. And if she is there, I could also ask her if she had time to think about what I said.”

“I’m sure she’s thought about what you said. After all, you did tell her a pretty crazy story.”

Gabriel didn’t say anything, although he did feel a little annoyed. Hadn’t he been making that argument ever since Eugene suggested this plan?

“I know you still have doubts about this,” Eugene said. “But I think she will eventually agree to help us. And she does have access to the names of everyone Tristan McIntyre meets and where and when. She also has his trust. She could get him to reveal his plans.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure about any of that, but he
was
worried about her.

“I’m going to check on her. I know you don’t think it’s a good idea to go to her apartment, but I’m really concerned.”

Eugene was silent for a moment, then nodded. “That is fine.”

Gabriel started to the door. At least his boss was being reasonable about this. He might be flirting with evil, literally, but he was being cautious about Georgia. Gabriel appreciated it.

“Gabriel.”

He stopped, turning back to his boss.

“I know you don’t always understand or agree with how I handle things,” Eugene said, his voice even, almost emotionless, “but you have to trust I know what I’m doing.”

Gabriel stared at him for a moment. His boss did have an uncanny way of addressing the very concerns that were going through his head. In this case, he wasn’t sure if Eugene was referring to his worries about Georgia Sullivan or Finola White, but given that the man didn’t even know Gabriel had overheard the exchange with Finola, he had to assume it was a reference to Ms. Sullivan.

But all Gabriel did was nod. He hoped Eugene knew what he was doing—with both females.

 

“Are you comfortable?” Georgia asked, arranging a pillow behind her grandmother’s back.

“I am, but I feel terrible that you are having to wait on me hand and foot.” Grammy sighed, frustration clear on her lined face. “Damned clumsy fool.”

She said the last disparaging remark to herself.

Georgia reached for her grandmother’s hand, squeezing it gently. She knew Grammy was very upset. The older woman rarely swore, and that alone showed how distressed she was.

“Don’t worry about it. It could just as easily have happened to me. You know what a klutz I am.”

Grammy squeezed back, her gnarled hand feeling so small and fragile in Georgia’s. Considering how thin and frail the old woman was, it was a miracle only her ankle had been injured. And in truth, she’d only fallen because she’d already twisted it. Of course, a break would take some time to heal. But a broken ankle was far better than a broken hip. Georgia didn’t even want to think about how that would have affected her grandmother. At least with a broken ankle, Georgia could still keep Grammy here in the apartment with her.

Her grandmother managed a smile, and then slipped her hand out of Georgia’s to pat her cheek. “You have never been a klutz, Marianne.”

Georgia smiled, albeit sadly. Unfortunately, the trauma of the fall and the hospital stay seemed to have brought on a bout of confusion. Grammy hadn’t been fully aware of exactly what had happened, and she’d thought Georgia was her long dead daughter all day.

The doctor told Georgia that her grandmother’s disorientation wasn’t unusual, but he did remind her that the Alzheimer’s would only get worse and eventually Georgia would have to make some tough decisions about her grandmother’s care. But she couldn’t do that right now.

And right now, Georgia could take care of her.

“I’m going to make some soup. Would you like some? Maybe a nice bowl of tomato. And a grilled cheese?”

Grammy smiled. “That sounds delicious.”

“And want me to turn on your TV?”

The old woman nodded. “I’d like to watch the news.”

Georgia walked around the bed to get the remote from the top of the dresser. She pressed a button and the small flat-screen switched on. She handed her grandmother the remote.

“I’ll be right back,” Georgia told her. “Just call for me if you need anything.”

“You are so good to me, Marianne.”

Georgia just nodded.

Once in the kitchen, Georgia took a moment to pull in a few calming breaths. Her eyes burned from the tears she’d managed to keep at bay so far.

Getting her grandmother checked out of the hospital and situated in the apartment had taken most of the day. Which in some ways had been good for Georgia, but she hated the stress it had put on Grammy.

But it had kept her from thinking about Tristan—for the most part. She’d still managed to find moments to fixate on what had happened last night, but overall, she’d managed to stay focused on what had to be done with her grandmother and not panic about what would happen when she saw Tristan again.

Unfortunately, now she did have time to think. And that wasn’t a good thing. What would she even say to him the next time she saw him? Maybe neither of them would say anything.

But how would she react if he told her it had been a horrible mistake? Her rational mind had to agree with that, but her emotional side knew she’d be devastated to hear him say it.

“What does it really matter?” Georgia muttered to herself. It wasn’t as if it would ever happen again. But even as she thought that, her chest tightened.

“Stop being so stupid,” she told herself. “Of course, it wouldn’t happen again, and you don’t want it to happen again. What would be the point?”

It wasn’t like she was going to have a relationship with the man. That had never been a possibility. She knew that. But ninny that she was, that didn’t stop her from wanting it to be a possibility.

“Just be happy you have a damned job,” she said. What would she do if he’d decided that he couldn’t work with her? She stopped buttering a slice of bread as the thought hit her.

He still could decide that.

Just then a knock sounded at the apartment door. She shot a look over her shoulder. What if that was Tristan right now? To tell her that very news?

She set down the bread and knife and wiped her hands on a dish towel. Nervously, she headed to the door, starting when the person on the other side knocked again.

It’s probably just Marnie, she told herself. But she still took a deep breath and hesitantly reached for the knob.

Bracing herself for the worst, she pulled it open.

She gaped. “Gabriel.”

The large man looked about as pleased to be there as she was to see him.