My Dangerous Pleasure (15 page)

She laughed. Oh, she was playing it cool, but her cheeks were pink and she gave him a different look. Thoughtful, even though she was trying to hide it. He stayed where he was. “I won’t argue with you there.”

“Better not.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” If he played this right, he could score major points.

“Starting over. I know you were dating a lot. You used to have women here all the time. Now you don’t.”

Well, fuck.

“Maybe we could work out a system.” She lifted her free hand and waved it. Did she even realize they were still holding hands? “Secret signals so I know when to stay in my room or go visit friends. You know, a red cup in the window means one thing. A green one something else.”

He didn’t strike out with women very often. Practically never. “Number one, you aren’t going anywhere without me until we deal with Rasmus. Number two, what if it’s dark and you can’t see what color the cup is?” He considered the fact that he could kiss her. They were close enough. He could just tug on her hand, and if she didn’t let go, he could bring her around and see what kind of chemistry they had. He didn’t, though.

“Okay, so not cups. Whatever. You know what I mean. Text me, for crying out loud. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

“Cupcake.” He tightened his fingers around hers. “We don’t need to work out secret messages. I’m getting what I need. Besides”—he rubbed his stomach—“I like having you here.”

“Thank you. That’s nice to hear.” She looked at their hands and pulled her fingers free of his. “Speaking of exes, I keep forgetting to tell you the rest about Urban coming out here.”

“What?” His turn to play it cool. No way was he going to make a play for her when she wasn’t giving him clear signals that she wanted anything like that with him.

“Urban’s coming out here to film an episode of his cooking show. Did I tell you he’s a chef? Well, there’s going to be a big party in the East Bay.” She cocked her head. “I’ve been asked to do the desserts, and with all the press and attention, it’s a big deal for me.”

“That sounds great. When is it?”

“Two weeks from Monday.”

“We’ll work something out.”

She slid off the stool. “We better go. I don’t want to be late for work.”

“Sure thing.” Iskander took the dirty dishes to the sink while she grabbed her coat and purse. They didn’t say much during the drive, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. He parked in front of the alley, as usual.

And as usual, Rasmus was standing at the corner of Clay and Kearney so he’d know whether Iskander was going to take her in the front or the back. Three magehelds were directly across from the bakery’s back door, and the mage probably had more at the front door. Two more were with Rasmus. “Front or back today?” he asked Paisley.

She shrugged. “Back, I guess.”

He got out and pulled enough magic to keep parking control from noticing he was illegally parked, then enough for Rasmus to know he’d better watch himself. Today he was pissed off enough at the way the mage was screwing with her head that he draped an arm around her shoulder while they walked to the back door of the bakery. Rasmus followed, but he kept his distance.

When they got there, one of the waiting magehelds moved to intercept them. He didn’t cover the distance quickly enough to make him think Rasmus had ordered an attack, but Iskander was in a mood. He took one step forward, grabbed the mageheld by the face, and released enough magic into him to make his eyes bleed. The mageheld dropped to the ground and didn’t move.

He kept a hand on Paisley’s shoulder while he whirled to face Rasmus. The mage walked toward them with his magehelds in tow. “You know the rules,” Iskander said in a voice that wasn’t nice at all. “Stay the fuck away from her.” He nudged the fallen mageheld with his toe. “Next time I won’t be so nice.”

Rasmus stopped walking. “She’s betraying you with me.” The mage smiled, and Jesus, but he looked smug. Beside him, Paisley tensed. “We were together just yesterday.”

Iskander put a hand on Paisley’s shoulder. The tension in her shot through him. “I know he’s lying, cupcake.”

“She will belong to me soon. You cannot stop her from changing. It’s already happening.”

“That’s enough, Rasmus. Nobody here believes anything you say.”

“Before you came to get her last night, we made passionate love.” He gave Paisley a rude appraisal that made Iskander fantasize about ripping out his beating heart. “Didn’t you wonder why you had to wait for her?” Rasmus asked. “She told me she prefers me.”

“In your dreams, asshole.” Even Rasmus knew better than to interfere with him here, but he wished the mage would try something. He’d be within his rights to protect himself or Paisley.

Paisley grabbed his hand. “Ignore him.”

She was right. He walked her to the door. A gust of frigid wind blew down the alley, scattering trash and creating eddies of dirt. The city could surprise you with bitter chill even in the depths of summer. Cold never bothered him much, but Paisley was human. She had a whole different set of tolerances than he did. She shoved her hands into her peacoat, hunching her shoulders against the wind. He moved so he blocked the wind and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Pick you up about eight?”

“Sure,” she said.

“I’ll call you.” He stayed close to her. His back was itching with the chill of whatever magic Rasmus was pulling right now.

“Okay.”

He waited in the alley until she was inside, then took a few minutes to check the proofing he’d set. No major wards, just a few simple ones so if a mage or mageheld came snooping too close, they’d have some uncomfortable encounters. He walked past Rasmus without saying a word.

“She is mine, fiend,” Rasmus said.

Iskander took Paisley’s advice and ignored the fuck out of him.

In the truck, he called Nikodemus and asked him to send someone to watch the bakery front and back while he was taking care of a few things. Nikodemus agreed without even asking why. A few minutes before eight, he was back in the alley after dismissing the fiend Nikodemus had sent. This time when he walked past Rasmus’s magehelds, they all kept their distance.

He called to let her know he was here and felt a surge of anticipation because he was looking forward to seeing her. She came out and smiled at him all sweet and pretty. He waited while she set the alarm on the door. “Good day?” he asked as they walked to the truck.

“Pretty good,” she said when they were past the magehelds. The fog was in, and she had her hands deep in her coat pockets. If Rasmus was around, he wasn’t close enough for Iskander to tell. “The guy you had watching the bakery kept Rasmus away. Thanks for that.”

“You saw him?” That was damn sloppy work.

“Yeah.” She frowned. “What?”

He stayed by the passenger door. “Anybody I send to keep an eye on things, you shouldn’t see him unless he wants you to. Not even if you were standing next to him. If Rasmus wasn’t around, there was no reason for him to let you see him.” He frowned. “What did he look like?”

“But he was one of you.” Her eyes got big and wide, and he knew she hadn’t meant to say that.

He said, very slowly and with a black hole forming in his gut, “What’s that mean,
one of you
?”

“He was like you, Iskander.”

He reached out and tapped her chest. “Did you feel something? Here?”

She went still.

“Paisley?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” He took a step away from the truck and clasped his hands over his head. “Shit, shit, shit. How long have you been able to tell?”

C
HAPTER 13

8:40
P.M.
,
Clay Street, near Kearney

P
aisley’s stomach did a flip while Iskander stared at her like she’d just told him she could read minds. Or worse. “Tell what?” she asked softly.

He kept a steady gaze on her and something tugged at her. “Tell that it’s me. Or someone like me.”

“What do
you
mean, someone like you?”

“That’s my point.” He looked skyward, and his mouth moved in a silent prayer. Or a curse. “We have to talk.”

“All right.” She had to be misinterpreting this. Had to be. Right?

“There’s a place not too far from here. We can walk there.”

“You’ll get towed if you leave the truck parked like that.”

“No,” he said, very firmly. “I won’t.”

“Whatever you say.” They walked down the street to Café deMonde, which, despite the name, wasn’t competition for her bakery; deMonde served lunch and dinner, though there were tables for people who wanted only coffee. They didn’t do a morning serve.

Iskander held the door for her, and she walked in only to stop dead because there was a screamer in here somewhere. The cries of agony that reverberated in her head made her sick to her stomach. She scanned the room, hoping to pinpoint the source so she could sit as far away from that person as possible. The sound ripped through her without ceasing. She shivered.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Tired.”

He guided them out of a direct line with the doorway. “What do you want to drink? Anything to eat? They have great food and even better coffee.”

“Americano, two extra shots.” She had the screaming mostly blocked off, but her body quivered from the effort. “I’m not hungry right now.”

“Find a table,” he said. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

She did. There weren’t a lot of free tables, and her choices were limited to the right half of the café since the screamer was to her left. This time the source was a slender woman with blond hair and brown eyes. She was sitting alone, a plate of food on her table and an e-Reader in her hand. She wasn’t reading. She was staring at Iskander, a startled expression on her face.

Lots of women did a double take when they saw Iskander. The facial tats alone were striking, but the total package? Unbelievably sexy.

While he waited in line at the counter to order coffee and soup, Paisley found a place to sit near the windows on the complete opposite side of the room from the screamer. The sounds broke through again, wails of despair that ignited the now-familiar urge to walk over there and make it stop.

Only crazy people heard voices in their head. Only crazy people ended up convinced they had to attack complete strangers. The woman wasn’t really transmitting the screams of the damned into her head. But, Lord Almighty, if this kept up, she’d be looking to make herself a tinfoil hat.

Out of habit, Paisley kept one eye on the street, watching for Rasmus. But she also noted how the café compared to hers. The effort helped her split off the part of her that was hearing the screams and get that awareness, real or not, walled off. She drew her wool peacoat tight around her and stretched her legs under the table while she waited for the chill of outside to fade.

The screamer was still checking out Iskander. No question her landlord was a prime specimen of man, beyond hot and into the realm of
could-this-be-for-real
? He was a big man, powerfully built with shoulders that were wide for his narrow hips. He had the body of a man used to physical activity, from his leanness to the size of the muscles that shaped his upper arms. She never saw him exercise, but maybe he worked out while she was at the bakery.

He turned from the counter, and she glanced away so she wouldn’t be caught checking out his assets. Even though she had been. He brought over a plate with two cookies on it and went back to get her Americano and his Italian soda. With her schedule, she was pretty much immune to caffeine unless she went for quadruple shots. The Americano was nothing. When she got home, she’d still fall asleep. He sat across from her. The cookies looked good. He broke off a piece and gave it to her.

“Good,” she said.

He took a bite, too. “Not as good as yours. They should get their cookies and desserts from you.”

“Maybe I’ll ask the manager if they’d consider it. I could bring over samples.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me.” He unclipped his phone from his jeans and set it on the table while he checked for calls and texts. It looked like he had several of each. He picked up the phone and responded to one of the texts.