Sex (17 page)

“How the hell should I know?” Gaia snapped. “What am I, psychic?”

“It is probably your foul-mouthed friend calling to tell you who she has robbed this evening.”

“Why don't you shut your ignorant mouth,” Gaia whispered as she leaped out of bed and stumbled to the phone. Maybe it
was
Gen. “At least Gen's honest about who she is.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Gee, I don't know. But you better get some sleep if you want to be ready for morning coffee with Ed.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Tatiana hissed, throwing her pillow over her head to block out the incessant ringing.

Gaia grabbed the phone off the receiver, snapping it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Gaia?” the voice whimpered under the loud din of
traffic noises. It was Gen's voice, breaking up in the horrible static of a city pay phone.

Gen
was whimpering? Bad sign. Very bad sign.

“What's wrong?” Gaia demanded, barking loudly into the phone.

“Shhh!” Tatiana huffed from under her pillow.

Gaia slapped her hand over the phone. “Shut your freakin' mouth,” she growled, throwing the phone back to her ear. “Gen, are you still there? I looked all over for you today. What the hell happened?”

“I
know”
Gen replied. “I feel like such shit for leaving you in there alone. I'm
so sorry.
I had to run. I thought you were going to follow me.”

“Don't worry about it; it's fine. Listen, I don't think you're going to have to worry anymore because—”

“I
am
worried,” Gen interrupted urgently. There was a kind of fear in her voice that Gaia didn't even think Gen was capable of. “Gaia, I think he's following me.”

“Who?
Casper?”

“Yes.
I think he's been tailing me all day, and I've got to tell you, Gaia, after the shit that went down today, I'm freaked. I really am.”

Gaia couldn't believe it. She just couldn't fathom how Casper would possibly mess with Gen after the very clear warning Gaia had given him. Could she have underestimated him that badly? Or had she just totally lost her touch?

“Gaia, are you there?”

“I'm here,” she said, picturing Casper's pathetic face and what she was going to do to it this time. What she should have just done in the first place. That was when her anger gave way to the reality of the situation. The only reason Casper was on Gen's trail…was that Gaia had let him go. She nearly began hammering the phone against Tatiana's perfectly organized desk.

Stupid stupid, stupid. When the hell are you going to learn? Kill them first. Warn them later.

She was
still
reliving her mistakes with Mary. Still.

“Where can I meet you?” Gaia asked urgently. “Tell me where, and I'll be there in five minutes.
Less
than five minutes. I'm going to fix this, Gen, I swear. I'm going to solve this problem. He is
not
going to hurt you.”

“I just don't know …,” Gen moaned. “I don't know if anyplace out here is safe. Is anyone home at your house?”

Gaia looked over at Tatiana's angry eyes peeking around her pillow. She couldn't care less what Tatiana thought. But Natasha could be a problem. “Just hold on, okay?”

She dropped the phone on the desk and sprinted to Natasha's bedroom, pulling on the reins before carefully creaking open the door….

Gone again. As per usual, Natasha had gone out for one of her mysterious late night excursions. Gaia didn't want to know what kind of crap her freaky fake mom was up to every night-strip
clubs? Late night bingo? She didn't even care. She was just thankful for any additional hours that she wasn't home. Particularly right now. Gaia sprinted back to the phone.

“Are you still there?”

“I'm here,” Gen said, “but I'm going to run out of quarters, Gaia. What the hell am I going to do?”

“The coast is clear here,” Gaia said. “It's totally cool. Just get your ass over here. Get your ass over here now and I will deal with this, okay? I swear to God.”

“You're sure no one else is home?”

“I'm sure,” Gaia said. “Just Princess Prissy Bitch, that's it. You'll be safe here.”

“Okay,” Gen said. “Okay, I'll be there.”

The line went dead. Gaia slammed the phone down on the floor and began planning Casper's murder.

I
know I should feel guilty tonight. Natasha and I have crossed an imaginary line that no amount of my intense repression or denial can erase.

But in spite of a slew of moral doubts, I know I'm not a liar. And the honest truth is … I don't feel guilty. I simply feel alive again.

I'd really done nothing but dig a larger and larger hole for myself, inch by inch. And Natasha has simply swooped in and lifted me out of that hole with such amazing ease. Just a gentle touch, kind brown eyes, some well-placed optimism, and a kiss. That was really all it took to resuscitate a heart that had just about given over to self-pity.

TOM

The truth is, everything has become so much easier now. Tonight I could look into her eyes without punishing myself. Tonight I could let my eyes coast freely over the tiny creases in the corners of her mouth when she
smiled and the gentle curves of her lips when she spoke. Tonight I couldn't help but marvel at life's totally nonsensical, totally unscientific nature. It just amazes me that a man could go from being so alone-so unequivocally, permanently alone-to being so …
not
alone, in one night. Not even one night, but one hour, one minute.

One kiss.

“WELL, TONIGHT THE REPORT IS delightfully simple,” Natasha said, holding both of Tom's hands firmly. They were seated in the corner of the same Clinton Street bar as the night before, though things were now obviously very different. “Gaia is at home. And she is
asleep.
A miracle, no?” Natasha smiled, and Tom let himself study every aspect of her face that he'd missed in the last few days of avoiding eye contact.

Foul White Wine

How very like Tom's brilliant daughter to pick this night not to embroil herself in any further mortal danger. It was as if even she, who probably hated Tom as much as she ever had right now, knew that Tom deserved at least one night of sweetness and light. And affection.

Not until today had Tom really begun to understand what effect deprivation could have on one's psyche. The way he had begun to obsess over his brother at the expense of everything else—at the expense of the simplest of pleasures or even the occasional genuine smile. He'd really done nothing but dig a larger and larger hole for himself. And Natasha had lifted him out of that hole with such amazing ease.

“Yes,” Tom agreed, giving in to his shamefully adolescent lover's gaze. “A miracle. I couldn't agree more.”

“My God.” She laughed, letting her head fall forward.

“What?” Tom asked, watching her long strands of hair cascade onto the cracked old wooden table.

“I don't know,” she said with a smile, tossing back her hair as she raised her eyes to the ceiling. “I am having the flashbacks to early motherhood. The baby … she is
finally
asleep for a change, uh? We have finally put Gaia to bed at …” She looked at her watch. “One in the morning. So we have earned one drink, no?”

“Absolutely,” Tom agreed, clinking glasses with her as they sipped their foul white wine happily.

Tom was in awe at how seriously Natasha took her duties as Gaia's guardian—as if she were Gaia's own mother. There was no question about it. He had chosen wisely. He could not possibly have picked a better guardian for his daughter.

“Eh-hem”
a voice chimed in from behind him.

Nothing annoyed Tom more than the passive-aggressive clearing of the throat to gain attention. But he didn't stay annoyed when he turned and saw George Niven behind him.

“George!” Tom celebrated, rising out of his chair and giving him a hard slap on the back. “What are you doing here?”

Tom hoped that George might have come as a peaceful gesture after the unfortunate argument they'd had in their last meeting. But he could already tell from the look on George's face that wasn't going to happen.

George gave Natasha a barely polite half nod and
quarter smile and then turned to Tom. “They told me I could find you here.” He gave Natasha a quick once-over, then stared into Tom's eyes. “Can we speak privately for a moment?”

Tom felt all his hard-earned sweetness and light deflating from his chest as Natasha's beautiful smile slowly disappeared. She turned away and focused on her drink.

“George,” Tom said, sighing, “anything you need to say to me, you can say in front of Natasha.”

George glanced at Natasha one last time and then gripped Tom's arm. “Tom, please. I'm very sorry to, uh,
interrupt,
but I promise you this will take only a minute. I'm sorry,” he muttered to Natasha, barely turning in her direction.

Tom let out another, much larger sigh. “Fine,” he agreed. He leaned across the table toward Natasha. “I promise I'll just be a minute,” he said, apologizing profusely with his eyes.

“Of course,” Natasha said, presenting a wide fake smile to both Tom and George.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling back and flashing her a look that was meant to remind her of their new and much deeper connection. Natasha squeezed his hand and gazed back at him, letting him know with her eyes that the connection would still be alive and well when he returned to the table. Tom then walked resentfully to other side of the bar as George followed.

Okay, what was that all about?” Tom asked, glaring at George.

“I'm sorry, Tom. I'm just concerned about
her,”
he said, throwing a quick but pointed glance in Natasha's direction. “I've been asking around, trying to find out exactly how much the other agents know about her, and the answer, Tom, is always ‘very little.'”

“George, we've been through this.” Tom cast his eyes past George's shoulder to make sure Natasha was all right. “Now, the last thing I want is for us to fight anymore,
please.
You need to get to know her. You need to understand what a valuable member of our team she's become. I'd trust her with my life, George.”

“That's exactly what I'm afraid of, Tom,” he whispered intensely. “You're trusting her with Gaia's life as well, but I ask you again, how much do you actually
know
about Galina?”

“George, please, you're being ridiculous,” Tom replied, wishing the situation didn't call for such a low volume. “Aren't we all a little too familiar for code names? You can call her
Natasha”

“Well, I would prefer to keep this particular relationship on a professional level, Tom. So, if you don't mind, the rest of the Agency and I will continue to refer to her by her
professional
name. And if you don't mind my asking, just how
familiar
is your relationship? Because when I walked in, it looked
extremely
familiar—”

“All right, that's
enough,”
Tom said in a strained voice,
realizing he'd been loud enough for one of the patron's heads to turn. “That's enough,” he said more quietly.

The two of them took a moment to calm themselves. George dropped his head and then raised it again slowly to meet Tom's eyes. “Look, I'm sorry,” he said in a much kinder tone. “I don't want us to fight again any more than you do. If anything, I wanted to apologize for being so stubborn last time. I'm just trying to help you. Tom, she's not to be trusted.”

“George,
don't—”

“But that's not why I came to see you,” George interrupted, raising his hand quickly to make peace. “We were able to obtain a little more information. It's not much, but it's a start, and I wanted to get it to you as soon as possible.”

Tom felt a bolt of energy that instantly straightened his posture. He'd been waiting on a lead for days, anything at all. “Go on,” he said, feeling his heart pick up speed.

George reached into his jacket pocket and handed Tom a small white envelope. “Anything we've gotten so far is in there. There are a fair amount of indications that Loki … we're not too
familiar
with him to call him ‘Loki,' I hope?”

Tom rolled his eyes.

“Sorry,” George muttered. “Anyway, we've gotten word that he may be setting up some kind of HQ in the Cayman Islands. We've intercepted a few real estate
inquiries through one of his dummy companies, and we may be able to trace a couple of questionable shell accounts that were just opened at the national bank.”

“Then I know where I'm going,” Tom said, shoving the envelope in his coat pocket.

“Yes” George said. “We figured you'd say that. They've already fueled up the plane.”

“Good,” Tom said. He placed his hands on George's shoulders and looked him in the eye. “This is good, George. Thank you.”

George gave him a firm hug. “Just promise me you'll keep your eyes open, Tom. That's all I'm asking. Keep them open.”

“Of course,” Tom assured him. “Of course.”

Tom peered back over George's shoulder and met Natasha's eyes. She flashed him a stunning, wide-open smile, and Tom suddenly felt horribly guilty. How could he have left such a magnificent creature alone at a table for so long?

WHEN GAIA OPENED HER DOOR, Gen's face looked whiter than usual. Seeing Gen looking even remotely afraid stung Gaia's chest and made her unbearably uncomfortable. It was all Gaia's fault. She'd showered Casper with all those threats and then just left Gen alone with him in the park to bear the aftermath.
Sloppy, Gaia. So short-sighted and sloppy.