Flirt(27)

He was looking at me, his gray eyes uncertain, like someone who had purchased a dog but hadn’t done their research, and now the dog was trying to eat the cat.

“I understand your anger with me, Ms. Blake. I am truly sorry it had to come to this.”

It was an echo of what I’d told him in my office. I was truly sorry for his loss; truly sorry I couldn’t help him. The echo didn’t help me keep the anger down; it flared again, and I felt Nicky’s hand tighten on my arm again. It helped remind me that my control was all that stood between my lovers and a sniper’s bullet. I had to hold it together for them.

“You want me to raise your wife as a zombie,” I said, and my voice was utterly empty. I’d started to fold away inside myself, going to that quiet place I went to when I killed someone not in a firefight, but when I stared down the barrel of a gun and pulled the trigger with thought and time to change my mind. It was the quiet inside my head when I had decided to take a life even if there was opportunity to save it. When I had decided that someone deserved to die, and my conscience was clear. I had one of those moments now, and it helped chase back the heat of the lions. It was a cold place, the place I went when I killed.

I pictured Bennington dead with my bullet in his forehead and it gave me comfort. It helped me smile and be calm.

Nicky let go of me. “She’s calm.”

“Yeah,” Jacob said, “calm the way Silas gets.” He was studying my face, and it wasn’t metaphysical abilities that let him understand my expression and the peacefulness in my eyes.

“You’re comparing her to Silas,” Nicky said. “Shit.”

I didn’t know who Silas was, and I didn’t care. I probably should have, but I didn’t. I forced myself to see the room beyond Bennington’s face. When in danger, exits and entryways become important. The room was white: white carpet, white leather furniture, a slightly different shade of white wall. It was like they hadn’t been able to decide on a color so they didn’t choose one. The only color in that white room was a life-size portrait of Bennington’s wife. She was still blond and beautiful, but the photograph showed that she was model thin, which meant too thin for my tastes, but no one had asked me. She was wearing a bright blue ankle-length dress that made her eyes a brilliant blue. She lounged on a rattan couch that was surrounded by lush tropical plants, some of them in crimson and pink blooms. It was the only color in all that whiteness. It loomed over the room like some kind of goddess on high, or maybe a shrine. Jesus.

As for the exits, there were huge glass doors on one side of the fireplace, and more of them scattered throughout the bottom half of the open great room. There was one hallway that led deeper into the downstairs, and a huge-ass staircase leading up.

Nicky leaned in and whispered, “Don’t bother scouting the room, Anita.”

I didn’t even look at him, as if I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I didn’t like how alert both lions were to my actions. It was going to limit my chances.

“Did your man acquire what we need for tonight?” Bennington asked, looking at Jacob.

“Silas will.”

“I’m paying you a great deal of money, Mr. Leon.”

I decided to go for smart-ass; when in doubt, it’s always a possibility. “Leon,” I said, “that is so not your real last name.”

He gave me an unfriendly look out of his pale eyes.

I smiled at him, able to do it because I’d calmed myself with images of violence. It had emptied my mind enough to scout the room, and to think. It’s not a technique that they teach you in business school, but it works for me.

“It’s my name today.”

“What’s wrong with Leon as his name?” Bennington asked.

“It’s based on the Latin word leo , which means ‘lion.’ Don’t you think that’s funny? Because I think it’s freaking hilarious.”

“I think I liked it better when you weren’t talking,” Jacob said.

“They come highly recommended, Ms. Blake.”

“You’ve had them watching me and my boyfriends for a few days, before you came to my office. You hired them before I turned you down.” The anger tried to flare back up, and I had to slow my breathing a little, concentrate on my pulse. I pictured him dead again, but the anger wanted him dead sooner, and that was the beast talking. Kill it now, eat it now, why wait? Animals are very into instant gratification.

“I told you, Ms. Blake, I’d researched you. Everything I had learned about you said that you would turn me down, so I had a contingency in place.”