My Dangerous Pleasure (27 page)
“There’s no misunderstanding,” the stranger said.
Rasmus muttered what sounded to her like nonsense syllables. At the end, he slashed a hand through the air from the level of his chest to his pelvis, and, swear to the heavens, a breeze lifted the stranger’s hair.
“Rasmus Kessler,” the man said. Paisley’s heart froze solid in her chest. He lifted a hand, too. The breeze stopped. “You are not yourself. I suggest you leave before you get into serious trouble.”
“For what reason should I listen to you?” Rasmus said in a voice of deadly charm. “You have no magehelds. You have no power to do me harm.”
The man in the suit moved the first two fingers of one hand in a semicircle. “As it happens, mage, I do not need them.”
A shadow appeared around Rasmus, so dark Paisley had to squint to see him. Within the bounds of that darkness, Rasmus didn’t move. Once his magehelds were enveloped, too, they stood as frozen as the mage.
“Oh, my dear Lord,” she whispered, retreating to the bakery door.
“Miss Paisley Nichols, I presume?” the stranger said. She nodded, and he stooped for her keys. “We ought to go before he works out a way to dissolve what I’ve done.”
“Who are you?”
He tossed her the keys. Unwilling to take her eyes off him, she let them fall at her feet. “My name is Leonidas. Nikodemus asked me to keep an eye on Rasmus, and that task led me here in timely fashion.”
Paisley wanted to believe him. She really did.
Leonidas smiled as if he understood her hesitation. He glanced at Rasmus, still enveloped in shadow. “We have a few moments. Perhaps you’d like to call Nikodemus to verify my bona fides.”
“Can’t.” She pointed to the mass of melted metal that had been her phone.
“I have his number.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, but stopped when Paisley stiffened. “I am retrieving my phone.” Slowly, he extracted a slim phone from his suit jacket. “You see?” He put it on the ground and pushed it toward her. It skittered on the pavement and stopped at the toe of her black clog. “You’ll find him in my contacts.”
She opened the phone, very much aware that you could label a contact anything you want. There was no guarantee the number wasn’t going to a buddy of his. She found an entry for Iskander and called that instead. No guarantee with that number, either, but she’d know if it was really Iskander.
He answered the phone on the second ring. “S’up, mage?” There was traffic noise in the background. “I’m a little busy here.”
She gripped the phone harder. “It’s me.”
“Just a sec.” The noise muffled, and he came back to the call. “Something wrong?”
“Do you know someone named Leonidas?”
“Uh-huh.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Describe him to me.”
“Greek. Dark complexion. Strong nose. Dark hair. Probably wearing a suit. You’re calling me on his phone. Is he there? Where’s the guy I sent?”
“Dead.”
“Shit.”
“What’s a question I can ask him so I know it’s him and not some other mage or friend of Rasmus’s who stole this phone?”
“What happened, Paisley?” His voice was crisp. “Where are you?”
“Behind the bakery.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did Rasmus come after you? Is he there?”
“Yes. But Leonidas did something to him.” She checked the stranger. He hadn’t moved, and Rasmus and his magehelds remained enveloped in inky black. “I need to know if this is the real Leonidas before I go anywhere with him.”
“Ask him where he first met me. I want you to repeat his answer to me. I’ll tell you if he’s right.”
“What if he isn’t?”
“Is there any place you can go? Back inside?”
She faced the back door and unlocked it. “Yes.”
“Good. I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there either way.”
She relayed the question to Leonidas, who hadn’t moved from where he’d stopped. The mage answered without hesitation. “At the home of the assassin Durian. In St. Francis Wood.” She repeated the answer for Iskander and refused to think about the fact that Leonidas had so casually said the word
assassin
.
Iskander said, “Let me talk to him.”
“Is it him?” she asked.
“Probably. Look, I don’t trust him, all right? Not all the way. Put him on the phone.”
“All right.” She put the phone on the ground and shoved it toward Leonidas. “He wants to talk to you.”
He picked it up. “Iskander.” His eyes darted to Rasmus. “Immobilized for now. You have perhaps twenty minutes before he works free. After that, I will think of something else. Yes. Shall I wait here for you?” He listened for a while before he disconnected the call and put away his phone. “Iskander would like for you to please wait inside for him. You’re to lock the door until he arrives. I’ll remain here.” He nodded in Rasmus’s direction. “Keeping an eye on him. I advise you to do as Iskander has asked.”
She didn’t hesitate. Her heart beat a thousand times a minute even after she was inside with the door bolted and the alarm reset. She pressed her back against the door, weak-kneed but feeling better now that she was reasonably certain Leonidas was trustworthy and that Iskander was on his way.
The half hour it took for something to happen felt like an eternity. Her chest flexed before she heard a motor that cut off. It wasn’t the Chevy; she’d have recognized the rumble. She held her breath, waiting as she faced the door, listening intently.
She heard voices, but they were muffled. After another bit, there was a soft tap on the door. Paisley stared at it, imagining all the ways this might not be what it seemed.
“Hey, Paisley.” Iskander’s voice was close to the door. “I’d call your phone but Leonidas says that asswipe Kessler melted it. It’s me, and you have some work to do.”
She punched buttons on the alarm so it would reset itself and opened the door. She halfway expected to see Rasmus standing there. When she saw Iskander, she walked straight forward and into his arms. He put his arms around and held her tight for a moment.
Leonidas said, “I took the liberty of calling Xia and Alexandrine to sever his magehelds. They are on their way. Perhaps another twenty or thirty minutes.”
“Good thinking. You have him held for now, right?”
“At the moment,” Leonidas said, “he’s merely physically restrained.”
Rasmus stared at her from within the remnants of the shadow that confined him and his magehelds. The spot on her wrist flared so hot she jumped back, stumbling against Iskander, who caught her around the waist. The darkness surrounding Rasmus thinned to the point of looking more like smoke than shadow. Paisley saw him move an arm. He maintained his stare at her.
Leonidas made another motion with his hand, but it was clear Rasmus would break free. Leonidas said something that wasn’t English.
Iskander caught his hand. “Nikodemus will have your nuts in a grinder if you do anything to hurt him. Keep him like that until Xia gets here with Alexandrine. After they take care of the magehelds, let him go. And make sure he goes.”
The mage motioned to the back door of the alley. “For now, take her inside. I expect you’ll know if I need you.” Iskander nodded at that. “Otherwise, I will call when it’s safe for you to leave.”
Iskander pushed her toward the back door and let it slam behind them. She reset the alarm. “Is there someplace we can wait?” he asked.
“Sure.” She walked past him. “My office.”
Office
was an exaggeration. She took him to the closet-sized space that contained a desk she suspected had been there forever. They didn’t make heavy furniture like that desk anymore. Her laptop was there, closed and turned off for now, as was the printer she kept tucked underneath the desk. There was a mini-fridge so employees could store a meal, snacks, or a drink if they wanted. A microwave sat on top of the fridge. Mugs and a box of assorted teas were next to the cheap coffeemaker on the corner of the desk, for use when the café ’s espresso machine was off. Behind the desk was a cheap office swivel chair. The visitor’s chair was black leather, a craigslist find like the fridge and microwave. That left about ten square feet to stand in.
Once both of them were inside, the room seemed even smaller. She did her best to ignore the way he took up all the space.
I
skander looked for a place he could stand without crowding her, but there wasn’t anywhere to go, unless he stood in the hall. Paisley’s office was too small for the amount of crap in it. For someone his size, one step in just about any direction and he’d knock something over.
“I’m fine.” She stood by the heavy wooden desk, rubbing her arms.
“You don’t look fine.” He did his best to crank down his sensitivity to her. She was leaking magic the way she had the night he found her near dying in her apartment. “Did Rasmus touch you again?”
“No.” She looked drawn and shaky. “He just scared the heck out of me.” She shrugged out of her peacoat and threw it over the chair behind the desk. She wore black jeans and one of her chef’s shirts that didn’t do much for her but that didn’t hide her curves, either. He was in favor of her curves.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“To me,” he said, holding her gaze, “that sounds like a lie.” Felt like one, too, but he wasn’t going to mention that just yet.
“It’s not a lie.”
“You sound tired and worn out.” He looked her up and down, taking his time. “You look like it, too. No offense. Aren’t you sleeping?”
“You know my crazy schedule.” She tilted her head back to look at him in the cramped space. He liked the way his feelings about wanting her in his life meshed with the sexual hit he was getting from them being alone. Very cozy with him a decent amount taller than her and a lot bigger, and all his instincts about her going off. He was still plenty hot for her. Which was a record for him. “Want some coffee while we wait for Leonidas to give us the all-clear?”
“Tea. Herbal. What? I drink tea sometimes.”
“That’s fine for you, cupcake, but I can’t drink tea. It’ll make my nuts shrivel.” He grinned because she liked it when he joked around with her, and he wanted to see her smile. He dug through the basket of supplies and found a bag of ground Peet’s blend. “Or worse.”
“Nobody’s making you drink tea.”
“I’m making us coffee.”
“I want tea.”
He turned his head to get a look at her. Her big hazel eyes were fixed on him, and his heart did that thing where it hurt without him understanding why. He’d watched Durian fall for the human woman, Gray, and all he’d ever thought was,
I don’t get it
. He wished he did because then he might have a clue what to do about Paisley. “I’ll make your tea first, all right? Where do you get the water?”
“Bathroom sink. Across the hall. I can get it.”
“So can I.” He grabbed the carafe from the coffeemaker and filled it from the bathroom tap. When he came back, he saw she’d taken possession of the swivel chair behind the desk and was now rocking the seat back and forth. Her hands were on her lap where he couldn’t see them. He had no idea why she’d moved so far away from him, but the reason couldn’t be good.
He prepped the coffee grounds and got the water started but kept enough to fill one of the mugs from the shelf above the mini-fridge. He stuck the mug in the microwave and punched a few buttons. “Fine,” he said. Why would anyone drink tea? “You want tea, you can have tea. What kind do you want?”
“I like Chamomile.”
When her water was hot, he dunked the tea bag into her mug. He looked around for supplies like fake sugar and creamers. Leonidas could finish out there any minute, for Christ’s sake.
“Basket under the napkins,” she said.
“Thanks.” He could see her upper arm moving. “Is your wrist bothering you?”
“Some.”
He added in the one sugar he knew she liked and gave it a stir before he handed it over. “Are you sure Rasmus didn’t touch you?”
“Thanks. No, he didn’t.” Paisley gazed at him from over the mug. The words
Paisley Bakery
were printed on it in a paisley pattern on a bright yellow glaze. That mouth of hers never failed to give him dirty thoughts. What if she didn’t want something regular with him?