For she had to wonder if this little outburst was his attempt at diversion. As if he read her suspicion, his jaw snapped shut with an audible click. Oh, but his nostrils flared, his close-cropped hair sticking out wildly.
“No?” she said when he merely stood there, baring his teeth at her like a madman. She shrugged. “Then we shall be conducting that interview.”
She took one step farther, when his terse response lashed out. “We are not.”
“We are.”
Jack would have liked to say that his instinct for trouble had always been well honed. Unfortunately, his education in that arena had been painful and hard-earned. But earn it he had, and thus he knew he ought to have listened to his instinct and stayed away this day. Pierce worked for the bloody Archbishop of Canterbury? Jesus, this was a cock-up. This doppelgänger killer knew too much. Jack’s underbelly was exposed, revealing a wound that had never truly stopped bleeding.
He was aware he’d been an ass of the first order to Chase. He had not been able to control it. Bloody, bloody arch-bloody-bishop. An old rage boiled to the surface, one that cried out for release, to tear into something. Jack gritted his teeth as he walked alongside her. She was too quick by half. Something, in normal circumstances, he’d appreciate. Save he had little recourse when she dug her heels in, nor did he know how he was to conceal certain facts without getting caught.
They had walked halfway down the road when a runner caught up with them and ordered their immediate return to headquarters. Wilde wanted to meet with them.
Thankfully, Wilde cut straight to business as soon as they arrived in his dark and dreary office.
“Lord Darby called on me this morning.”
“Really,” Jack drawled, “I’m surprised. I’d have thought him fast asleep given his proclivities.” He’d had to watch the bloody bastard go at it for hours the other night. Shifter stamina was an impressive thing. Regretfully so, at times.
He could all but feel Chase squirm beside him. Good. He was in a foul mood. And she made up the greater half of it.
Wilde’s mouth pitched to the side, an odd half-twitch. Sitting calm and tall in his chair at the head of the table, he merely rested his hands upon the glossy surface and continued. “He appears to find Mistress Honeychurch and Master Evans preferable escorts and has requested that you, Master Talent and Mistress Chase, be taken off guard duty rotation. In short”—Wilde’s cool, black gaze bore into them—“he wants nothing further to do with you.”
“I suggest you tell him to piss off.” Frankly, Jack was glad to be rid of Darby. He knew that path led to a dead end and had not been looking forward to tonight’s guard. But the request was a slight against him, and Chase. God knew Chase didn’t deserve it.
Wilde’s brows rose. “Oh, certainly. I shall ignore the fact that he donates hundreds of thousands of pounds to SOS operations and tell the earl to ‘piss off’ because his reasonable demand has sent my regulator into a fit of pique.”
Chase’s skirts rustled. Jack caught a flash of wine satin before jerking his attention back to Wilde. Jack crossed one leg over the other. “I was under the impression that our organization looked beyond money and title.”
“Are you also under the impression that our employees work for free?” Wilde inquired smoothly. “For that can be arranged.”
He was about to retort, but Chase’s smooth voice cut in. “I agree with my partner. Kowtowing to a man solely because he pays the bills is folly.”
Damn, but Jack liked her too well. Just as he’d feared he would. Lust was one thing. It burned off quickly. “Like” was decidedly dicey. “Like” could grow, lead to other unfortunate “L”-words that did not bear thinking of. Of course there were words to offer a fine distraction, such as “lick,” “linger,” “luxuriate,” or the more-obscure-but-rife-with-possibilities “lingua.”
Jack ran his lingua along the backs of his teeth, then promptly bit down on it to focus. “Lummox” was another word he would do well to remember. “It is badly done of the SOS,” he added, just to dig in, because there was something fun about joining with Chase.
Wilde’s pale skin grew ruddy, the pinch about his mouth more pronounced, but it all eased in a blink. “Lord Darby will still be watched. Just not by the two of you.” Wilde shook his head, looking weary and slightly bemused. “I don’t know what you did to annoy him, Master Talent—”
“I merely talked to him.”
“Apparently,” Wilde murmured, “that is enough to annoy anyone.”