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BOOK: DevilishlyHot
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“I know
HOT!
magazine is hugely successful, but do you ever just think about looking for a new job?”
“All the time.” She placed steaming mugs of coffee on the counter along with milk and sugar. Then she came around to join him in the same room.
The partition and conversation had calmed his thoughts a little, but now as she gestured for him to join her on the sofa, his mind went right back to all the things he’d love to do to her among those pillows.
She sat down, her mug cradled in her hands, waiting for him to join her. He did, making sure he stayed to one end, with plenty of room separating them.
“I like your couch,” he said, then realized how lame that sounded.
But fortunately Annie didn’t seem to notice; instead she nodded, reaching out to run one of her hands over the soft material.
“I like it a lot too.”
Nick wanted to groan as her small, delicate fingers continued to brush over the material. With any other woman, he might have thought she was doing it on purpose, but he just knew innately that Annie didn’t think that way.
But that didn’t stop him from reaching over to place a hand over hers, his only thought to stop that teasing, arousing motion.
Annie’s hand stilled instantly, her eyes wide and questioning. He took his hand away as if he’d been burned, afraid where that simple touch could lead.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head with frustration at himself and amazement that such a simple thing could push him over the edge. “I’m trying really, really hard to just sit here and have a nice, friendly conversation. But it seems like everything you do is a major distraction.”
“I—I don’t mean to—”
“It’s not your fault. I just cannot remember a woman affecting me like you do.”
Annie didn’t know what to say, because she couldn’t admit the truth. The truth was she felt the same way. God help her, she did. She’d hoped having him in her apartment, in the place she shared with Bobby, would make her realize her attraction to Nick was silly when compared to the relationship she had with Bobby.
But the truth, the horrible truth, was she had been aware of Nick constantly, even more intensely than before. She imagined him being here with her, a part of her life. Talking, laughing, making love.
She pulled in a shaky breath, trying desperately to get that final image out of her mind.
“I’m so attracted to you,” he told her, his tone pained, apologetic.
And even though she knew it was wrong, she nodded with understanding.
“I—I am attracted to you too,” she whispered, almost afraid to admit it too loudly. “But ... I can’t.”
“I know.”
They both fell silent, neither of them moving.
Finally Nick set his untouched coffee on the table in front of them. “I’d better go.” He rose and headed toward the door.
Annie nodded, knowing that was the wisest choice, but still she wanted to beg him to stay. She hadn’t felt this connected to anyone in so long, and she was terrified to let him walk out that door.
“Do you think we can be friends?” she asked.
Nick debated, then shook his head. “I don’t know. I want to, but I think we both know that this temptation is hard to ignore.”
She sighed, knowing he was right.
He smiled at her, and for the first time, she noticed the twinkle was gone from his golden brown eyes. Sadness was in its place.
“Good night,” he said and disappeared out the door.
“Good-bye,” Annie said, suspecting even if they did see each other again, there would be a reserve between them that would bring its own sort of finality.
Chapter Twelve
“O
h for the love of Pete, don’t tell me she’s done something else.” Satan didn’t even look away from the football game he was watching.
“She has been using her demon abilities in a very public way.”
That did capture the Prince of Darkness’s attention. He spun in his oversized leather chair, his frown making him look very intimidating.
“What did she do? And where did this happen?”
“She silenced some men who were making rude comments to her. She rid a teenager of her piercings and she made a fat woman thin.”
The devil stared for a moment, a very muddled look on his face, then he laughed, the sound booming through his cavernous lair.
“I actually find that quite amusing,” Satan said, which seemed unnecessary after his laughter.
“Yes, Master ... but she did these things in front of the detective.”
Satan’s amusement vanished. “I thought there was a plan to destroy any interest she might have in this detective.”
“There was—is, but this all happened while the plan was being executed.”
Satan rose from his chair and paced across his new brimstone flooring, stroking his beard as he thought.
“She is a loose cannon,” he finally said, “I will give you that. But she is also very powerful, and perfect for her role. Do you know how hard it is to find demons who are willing to wear female humans’ high fashion day in, day out? Six-inch heels. Stockings. Backless gowns. Spandex. Skinny jeans. And don’t even get me started on the grooming rituals.”
Satan strode back and forth across the floor a few more times. Then he collapsed back into his cushiony chair. For a moment, the game distracted him again as he watched one of the teams race down the field for a last-minute goal.
“Blast it!” he shouted, and his powerful voice reverberated so loudly through the cavern, it made even the ground shake. He gaped at the huge 82-inch flat screen, watching the instant replay.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said, although still shaking his head at the outcome. “My favorite team, the Saints, irony I know, just lost the play-offs. Anyway, back to the task at hand. I will give Finola one last chance. If she is focused and doing her job, with only the occasional demonic attack, then I will let her continue as the head of this project. If you return to me and say she has risked the project again, then I will be forced to meet with her and sort out the problem myself.”
“Which I hope doesn’t happen,” he said almost to himself. “I’m already dealing with this lust demon I placed in the government. He’s gone rogue, utterly sex-crazed, sleeping with anyone. Fortunately no one is paying too much attention. He is a government official, after all.”
He refocused again. “That’s it. Just continue to keep me posted.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good morning. It’s Elton, right?”
The older mailroom clerk finished placing a bound pile of mail onto his metal cart before looking up at Nick. His coffee-colored skin was creased with wrinkles and his dark eyes hazed with age, but Nick instantly got the impression this man didn’t miss a thing. And he was willing to bet Elton hadn’t missed the strange state of the receptionist yesterday.
“Yep,” Elton answered, returning his attention to his work, reaching for another pile of letters.
“I was hoping to talk to you.”
“Well, I’m right here. Go ahead.”
Nick smiled at the man’s gruffness. “I’m Detective Rossi.”
He started to reach into his jacket pocket for his badge, but stopped when Elton said, “I know who you are.”
It was on the tip of Nick’s tongue to ask how he knew, but he suspected his presence had been a big topic of discussion; maybe Elton had heard mention of him during his daily deliveries.
“So you probably know I’m here investigating the disappearance of a significant number of people who once worked for Finola White Enterprises.”
Elton didn’t react, still arranging his mail on the steel cart.
“One of the missing people is a woman who used to work in the mailroom. Sheila Bernard.”
“I knew Sheila,” Elton said, then glanced up at Nick. “But it don’t mean I know what happened to her.”
Nick nodded, not surprised by the man’s response. It was about the most he got from anyone. “Since you knew her, maybe you recall something strange happening around the time she went missing.”
Elton pursed his lips, shaking his head. “Not that I recall.”
“No change in her behavior? Did she start missing work?”
“Can I help you?”
Nick turned to assess the man who’d suddenly appeared beside him. He appeared to be in his late thirties, perhaps early forties. His build and face were nondescript, just an average-looking guy. The only thing that truly stood about him was his eyes. They were a light and vivid blue. Almost like those of a husky. Eerie, almost hypnotic eyes, giving him an almost feral look. Nick had seen eyes like that, somewhere, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly where at the moment.
Instantly that feeling of prickly awareness returned. An awareness that made him on edge, wary. Last night, lying in bed, trying not to think about Annie and his desire for her, he’d wondered about his strange feelings yesterday. He’d convinced himself that it was adrenaline or just an awareness fostered from years as a cop.
But right now, as he experienced the sensation so intensely again, he knew he was kidding himself. He was really feeling something. Some vibe that came off certain people.
“Hello, Eugene,” Nick said, reading the man’s name from his work smock. He extended his hand. “I’m Detective—”
“Rossi,” the man finished for him. “Yes, I’ve heard of you.”
“Apparently news gets around this place,” Nick said.
“Indeed it does,” Eugene said. “Why don’t you come to my office? We can talk there.”
Nick considered pointing out he’d been in the middle of talking with Elton, but then decided to follow the younger man. Since Eugene had sought Nick out, maybe he had something he wanted to tell him. Or something he didn’t want Elton to tell him.
Eugene led Nick through the bustling mailroom, noticing that the whole place seemed to vibrate with a driven intensity. Each person was engrossed in whatever task he was doing. Yet, despite the number of people working there, it was almost quiet, as if everyone was simply too absorbed in his work to chatter or laugh. Another thing that struck him was the number of employees working there. Finola White Enterprises was a large company, but Nick would estimate there were probably seventy-five or more hardworking mailroom employees. That struck him as overkill.
But no matter what, the place felt ... strange. That was the best way to describe the vibe. Why this surprised him was a mystery. Everything about
HOT!
and Finola White Enterprises was strange.
“Have a seat,” Eugene said, gesturing to a folding metal chair across the desk from his own computer chair.
Nick sat, looking around the small office of gray plywood walls. Some scheduling charts were tacked up behind him. A calendar. A poster about employee etiquette. Another poster of a mountain with an inspirational saying underneath. Other odds and ends, but nothing that struck Nick as out of the ordinary.
“So you are the mailroom manager?” he asked.
Eugene nodded, taking his own seat. “I am.”
“Then you would handle all the hiring/firing?”
Eugene nodded again. “I do handle all the hiring and firing, although Ms. White has the ultimate say.”
“And is she very involved in the mailroom?”
Eugene chuckled. “Presumably you’ve met Ms. White. I think you can probably tell the mailroom is not of much interest to her. For the most part, we go unnoticed down here.”
No, that didn’t surprise Nick. The mailroom was definitely too ... what word had she used last night? Too proletarian for Finola.
But still, Nick found the word
unnoticed
an interesting choice. Ignored would seem a better word to him. After all, unnoticed—at least to the detective in him—seemed to imply there was something going on down here that perhaps should be noticed. If anyone was paying close attention.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m here investigating the disappearance of a number of Finola White Enterprise’s employees.”
“Yes, I had heard that.”
“And one of those missing persons is Sheila Bernard. Did you know her?”
“Certainly,” Eugene said, with a solemn nod. “She was one of our delivery staff.”
“Meaning?”
“She went up to the different floors and distributed the mail to the actual offices and other employees.”
“Like Elton does,” Nick said.
“Yes.”
“What did you think of her?”
“She was a hard worker, good at her job.”
“Do you remember when she disappeared?”
Eugene pursed his lips as he considered Nick’s question; finally he shook his head. “Sadly, not right off the top of my head. But I would have the information in my employee time sheets. She actually didn’t show up for work for several days before anyone became aware that something could be wrong.”
“Did she just not show up for work often?” Nick asked.
“Not that I recall.”
“And no one was concerned until she’d been gone for a few days?”
Eugene smiled wryly. “Not many people would go straight to Missing Persons just because someone missed a few days of work. We aren’t all suspicious detectives, I’m afraid.”
Nick wasn’t sure he bought that. It seemed to him that at least one person would find it strange that a good employee didn’t call in when missing a day of work, much less several.
But Nick was going to give Eugene the benefit of the doubt.
“Maybe the fact you weren’t too concerned when she didn’t show up for work was because she’d been ill before that? Or acting strange?”
“Strange how?”
“Maybe spacey? Confused? Maybe even totally out of it.”
Eugene shook his head. “I’m sure I would recall that.”
“Well, if you could go through your records and get me her time cards, that would be a great help.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “You can fax them to me.”
“Certainly.”
Nick stood. “You wouldn’t mind me talking to some of your other employees, would you?”
Eugene raised an eyebrow. “Of course not.”
Nick regarded the man for a moment, getting the odd feeling Eugene was almost challenging him. A certain smugness brightened his eyes.
Nick suppressed a shiver as the prickling sensation became very intense.
“Excellent,” Nick said, torn between wanting to get out of there and wanting to continue grilling this man. He had a feeling this case had just gotten more complicated than he’d thought. Maybe Finola wasn’t the only one to blame for the missing employees.
But he stood and shook Eugene’s hand, then left his office. When Nick glanced over his shoulder, Eugene leaned in the doorway, watching him with those eerie eyes. Again Nick got the impression Eugene knew a lot more than he was saying—and he liked having knowledge that Nick didn’t.
 
Nick spent the remainder of the morning talking to as many of the mailroom staff as he could, discovering nothing new, except for maybe the fact that they were a peculiar group of people. A majority were surprisingly nerdy, seeming more like brainiac computer geeks than people who would handle the mail. Then there were several who just struck him as eccentric. Only a handful seemed even remotely normal, but then again, he supposed there was a reason why they were all working underground away from the general populace.
Did that weirdness give one of them, or maybe more than one, the potential to hurt their fellow employees? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, that was for sure. He was even willing to bet more than of a couple of them thought zombies were cool. Could they be trying to make their own zombies somehow?
BOOK: DevilishlyHot
11.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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