Dates from Hell(99)

“Probably not,” he murmured.

I looked up at him. “As nice as Mr. Cortez was, I’m guessing he didn’t get where he is by playing Santa Claus. Cleaning this up for us wasn’t a free gift, was it?”

Marsten shook his head. “We owe him. He wouldn’t say that, because it would have been crass, under the circumstances, but it’s a chit owed.” He rubbed his shoulder, adjusting the bandage, and made a face, then looked at me. “When I turned down Tristan’s offer, Benicio came to me and made one personally. He was much more persuasive—”

“He threatened you?”

Marsten laughed. “Benicio Cortez does not threaten. He knows a lollipop can be a better motivator than a swat on the behind. He made me a lucrative offer, and when I respectfully refused, unlike Tristan, he let it go, but gave me that card, in case I ever ‘needed help.’”

“And now I’ve accepted it on your behalf, putting you in his debt. God, I’m so sorry—”

“If I hadn’t wanted you to use it, I wouldn’t have told you to. Given the choice between being dead and owing Benicio Cortez, we’re better off with the latter, as uncomfortable as it may be. He will eventually call in the chit, but, in the meantime, you can go back to your life, including your job at the paper, assuming that’s what you want.”

“It is.” I sat on the edge of the counter. “I’d like to—well, maybe I’m kidding myself thinking I could do anything on my own—”

“You could still monitor and report problems. To the real council this time. They have someone doing something similar, another journalist, and I know she’d love the help.”

I shrugged, torn between not knowing if that would be enough and not knowing if I could offer more, if I still had more to offer.

Marsten stepped in front of me and leaned forward, a hand on each side of me, balancing against the counter. “It’s a start,” he murmured. “Take it slow and start there. The only drawback, I’m afraid, would be the pay…or lack of it. The real council isn’t a group of white-haired philanthropists. Most of the delegates aren’t much older than you, meaning it’s pretty much a no-budget operation.”

“That doesn’t matter. I never even wanted Tristan to pay me. I get paid well enough—” I stopped and shrugged. “Well, you know…”

“In chaos dollars.”

My cheeks heated. “I know that sounds awful, helping others because I get something out of it—”

He put his hands on my hips and leaned closer to me. “You need an outlet. Do you think I don’t understand that?” He reached into his pocket and took out the jewels. “This is mine. A way to get my regular adrenaline shot without ripping apart strangers in alleyways. And, with you, it isn’t all about the chaos. You have balance. The good impulses with the bad. Me?” He grinned. “A little more inclined to the latter.” His eyes glinted. “Though not irredeemably so.”

I laughed. “Something tells me that would be a fun, but futile challenge.”

“Challenge is good.”

I shook my head. “If you’re happy with what you are, then anyone who wants you would need to accept that.”

He ran his fingertips along my jawline. “Wouldn’t be easy, I’m sure.”

“No, but if you look hard enough, I’m sure you’d find someone willing to try. You know, my mom’s great at finding dates—”

He growled and kissed me. When he pulled back, he ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, as if sampling the kiss.

“The immunity is breaking down,” he murmured. “But still has a ways to go.” He leaned toward me again. “I’d ask if I should stay for a while, but I suspect the answer would be no. A reluctant no, maybe, but a no nonetheless. So instead I’ll ask whether I can come back.”

I smiled. “Yes, you can come back.”

“Good. Better, actually.”

“Better?”

“Much.”

I laughed and shook my head.

Marsten stepped back. “I should go. I have a doctor to visit and goods to dispose of…not necessarily in that order. And I will make those calls for you—ensure the termination from your old job and the start of your new one go smoothly.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” I caught his hand and met his gaze. “I really do, Karl.”

He leaned over for a kiss, little more than a brushing of the lips, but very…nice. When he pulled away, he backed up to the door, started to turn, then stopped.

“I’m too old for you.”