Lizzy Ford (11 page)

He was that sexy, she decided.

His gaze fell to the single sign of disorder in the living area: the book she left on the table adjacent to the couch. His presence warmed the whole room. Seeing the contrast between him and his environment, she suddenly realized what it was about her surroundings that made her uneasy all afternoon. His condo was lifeless.

“Have you ever thought of redecorating?” she asked curiously.

“Why do you give a shit?”

“I don’t really. You don’t find this place … not really you?”

“I
like
it this way,” he snarled and snatched the book.

“No, I don’t think you do. I mean, your bedroom is more you. Masculine. Dark.”

He was staring at her again.

“Angry,” she added under her breath.

“You seemed adamant about not being fired a few minutes ago.”

“Sorry. I tend to talk too much when I’m nervous.” She returned her attention to the task at hand, warmth creeping up her face. The twins were used to her chatter. It was her curse with men, and after five years of not dating and the enormous mission of stealing from a stranger, it was only getting worse.

“I don’t get the nervous vibe from you,” he said.

“It’s not like you can read my mind or anything.”

“Can you read mine?”

She laughed then realized he wasn’t joking. Glancing up, her movements stilled. He was waiting for an answer. She swallowed her laughter.

“First you’re a vampire. Now you think I can read minds,” she said, shaking her head.

At his silence, she sighed.

“I’m sorry. Again. I’ll keep quiet.”

He strode down the other hallway. She imagined him snarling over the book she pushed in and replacing the one she’d been reading. The wicked side of her wanted to push in a few books next time he left, just to irk him. Like her cousins, who took everything so seriously, something about Xander provoked her inner bully.

When he returned, he went to the iPad on the dining table and turned it on. She watched him curiously, wondering if he planned on wiping off her offending fingerprints. He finished whatever it was he did and set it back down.

“I’m going out. Be in at eight,” he ordered.

“I was thinking of getting here at seven fifty seven. Is that okay?”

“Don’t fuck with me.”

Angry was a good description, she noted. He turned away towards the stairs leading down to the main floor, and she sneaked a glance to see if he still wore the necklace.

He did.

Her first day was awful. She failed her task and managed to piss off the new boss, all because she got nervous seeing a half-naked man. How was she supposed to get the necklace, if he wore it all the time?

The sounds of his footsteps coming back up the stairs made her cringe. Had he decided to fire her?

“What would you change about the interior décor?” he questioned.

Startled by his interest, she looked towards the stairs. He stood at the top, arms crossed.

“I know you don’t care what I think,” she replied after a pause.

“No, but I want to know
why
you think it.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I can’t read
your
mind.” The words were spoken with effort through his clenched teeth, as if the admittance was a personal insult.

I am so leaving that one alone
. “I don’t know what I would change,” she replied, studying him. “Your condo is so cold and standoffish. It doesn’t fit you.”

He was listening with unusual attentiveness. It made her want to laugh and squirm uncomfortably. This wasn’t normal.

“You’re nervous right now?” he asked when she didn’t continue.

“Freaked out is probably more accurate.”

“Why?”

She gave a sigh of exasperation. “Maybe because some complete stranger built like Conan is interrogating me about his décor.”

“You act like I’m the one who just appeared in your house.”

If anything, her words seemed to make him more curious. Jessi had no idea what it was with this guy. Was she the only human interaction he had? He drew closer once more, pausing on the opposite side of the counter, watching her in a way that left her feeling as if she was standing naked in his living room, armed with a gun. Would a man like this notice his danger or her breasts?

The thought made her hot from the inside out. She concentrated on the shirt.

Xander saw the signs then, the red on her face and the slight tremble of her hands. She was telling the truth; she was anxious. But that did nothing to explain to him how an oblivious Natural who was able to block his mind power
just happened
to end up in his home.

He didn’t believe in coincidences or chance. Jonny had to have sent this girl here for a reason. Except, for the first time in his existence, Xander wasn’t able to read the mind of the only person who knew why. He couldn’t even sense her, until he was close enough to touch her. She was invisible to his magic.

This is a fucking nightmare.

He felt like he’d been hit by a hurricane. After randomly crossing paths with someone whose mind he couldn’t penetrate, he’d suddenly found her in his house. She didn’t melt when their bodies brushed, and she appeared completely immune – or ignorant – of the affect he normally had on women.

Ingrid claimed to hire an ugly, old assistant, but the woman concerned more about the stain on his shirt than being around a vampire was enchanting, with long, loose blonde curls, olive-tinted skin and feathery eyelashes that set off striking gray eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her body unlike those of the models he normally took to bed. She was shorter, for one, toned and shapely, with round hips and large breasts, and a tucked waist. Her features were even and firm, her lips plump and glimmering with sparkly gloss. She was dressed much more normally than Ingrid in dark jeans and a simple, fitted blue t-shirt with bright coral nail polish.

He wasn’t able to read her mind, but she didn’t look like someone there to betray him. She had kids, somewhat of a liability to someone out to hurt him, because he took mercy on no one. There was an unguarded sweetness to her and her nervous chatter. She was definitely not like Ingrid or the women he preferred. Most were rotten to the core, jaded or desperate, because that’s the way he liked them.

“You’re about to fire me, aren’t you?” she asked as he continued to glare at her silently.

“I probably should.”

A shadow crossed her face, before she averted her eyes. Any way he looked at the situation, she didn’t belong here. Which meant – whatever her intentions were – she was a new kind of challenge, and Xander found himself intrigued. Maybe this is what he needed, especially after the disconcerting talk with Eden the prior day.

“Fall colors,” she said in the tense silence. “I’d change your décor to fall colors. Maroons, browns. Something warmer and more intimate.”

“That’s your impression of me? Warm and intimate? Like Santa Clause or some shit?”

“Definitely not Santa Clause,” she said with a laugh. “But otherwise, yeah. You seem to have depth, but this place is like a hospital. I can’t stand all the right angles in here, by the way. There’s no room to breathe.”

Xander glanced around. The perfect alignment of the interior of his condo was born of his desire to control his surroundings. It was instinctive after so many years. He knew he did it; he wanted it that way. The world outside his temporary home was constantly changing; here, he was almost at ease.

No depth. She was right. He wanted challenge everywhere but here. It explained why he was so unsettled with this woman; she was intruding in his orderly place of refuge.

She’d make a great tool to use against any enemies he wanted to spy on, he admitted. They’d be unable to sense her, until she was within striking range. Did Jonny figure that out and plan to use her against him? If so, what was the Black God after?

“Do you prefer dark brown or dark gray?” she asked absently.

“Black. Why?”

“I’m trying to have a conversation.”

“What color I like has no bearing on anything,” he said then tilted his head to the side. “Which do you prefer?”

“Of the two: Brown. Like chocolate. It goes with just about anything.”

Definitely not an assassin.
She was too … nice to slash a man’s throat. She didn’t have the edge an assassin would. Or maybe, she was a damned good one, able to throw him off the scent.

“Done!” she exclaimed. She wrung the water out of his shirt and walked down the hallway towards the laundry room. “If I still have a job, I’ll see you in the morning?”

She paused at the edge of the hallway and living room, gazing at him expectantly.

“Show up at eight. We’ll see what happens,” he replied.

“It’s been interesting.” She frowned then walked through the kitchen to reach the stairs rather than cross through the living area, where he stood.

She was as uncomfortable with him as he was with her. As soon as she was more than three feet away, she disappeared from his enhanced senses.

Xander didn’t like the idea of letting someone who was able to evade him – and possibly connected to Jonny – just leave. He’d never be able to find her again to know why she was there in the first place.

“You need a ride?” he called as she started down the stairs.

“What do you drive?” she asked.

“Does it matter, if it gets you home?”

“I don’t need a ride. I’m just curious.”

“None of your business.”

“Jackass.” The whisper wasn’t meant for his ears, but his enhanced hearing picked it up anyway.

“Great way to end the day with your new boss,” he said, amused.

“If you don’t fire me, I might just quit.” She didn’t sound convinced of her words, and there was something in her voice he couldn’t name.

“You won’t quit,” he assessed. “I’ll wait to fire you until I figure out why you’re working for me in the first place.”

“This is gonna be a long week.”

He felt the same way. She left.

Xander had the urge to follow her to her car to ensure she left and didn’t hide out on the main floor, waiting for him to appear, so she could kill him. His house was invaded by some sort of human he’d never dealt with before and never predicted he ever would. All the right angles she abhorred weren’t taking the edge off of him this night. He realized what bothered him: If the unassuming woman turned out to be some sort of well-disguised assassin, he’d never know or sense her, until she was in front of him. Worse, she had the code to enter any time she wanted.

Fortunately, no human-made weapon was able to hurt him. Guns and knives were worthless, and he was pretty certain he could wrestle her down, if she tried any sort of hand-to-hand combat.

He pulled out his phone and texted Ingrid.
What’s the name of the babysitter?

April Madera,
was her instant response.
OMG, did she come by after cancelling? WTH?

He didn’t answer. The woman in his condo said her name was Jessi. An unmistakable Natural with a unique talent, she was likely in the Guardians’ databases. They tracked all Naturals. He was hungry, but dinner was going to wait a few hours. He had a new hunt to embark on.

Xander Traveled to the front doorstep of the local Guardian station, a ranch-style house located in a lower middle class area of Buena Park, south of LA. A decal with the symbol of the White God – a sun and moon with an arrow through it – was in the corner of one window. He sensed the ward he triggered and waited. When the door opened, there were weapons trained on him from the Guardians watching from the windows.

“Evenin’,” he greeted Gerry, the station chief.

“We’ve got no training ops tonight,” came the brisk response.

“I’m not bringing in any stragglers,” Xander replied. He discovered their whereabouts when he hand-delivered the first round of trainees – minus a few pints of blood – who were stupid enough to challenge him instead of backing off like the experienced Guardians did. “I have a question for you.”

The Guardian hesitated then opened the screen door, wary but cognizant that if Xander was at the door, he wasn’t there to fight.

“Come on in.”

Xander did. His senses picked up six Guardians. Two were in the cozy living area with its worn furniture. Neat and comfortable, their station acted as their home as well as their hub for coordinating operations in LA.

“You know most of the guys,” Gerry said.

“You’ve got two new ones.”

“Yeah. You’ll see them in a few days.”

Xander winked at the female Guardian he fed from the night before. Still pale, she looked ready to run. Their unease was palpable. Gerry alone spoke to him, while two others hung back as the Guardian led him into the hidden room at the back of the house, filled with a small conference table and humming computers. Xander sat, and Gerry poured them both coffee, aware of his addiction for the bitter human drink.

“What can I do for you?” Gerry asked.

“I had a Natural show up on my doorstep.”

Gerry’s gaze sharpened.

“She’s fine,” Xander said. “Someone sent her. I need to know who.”