Devilishly Sexy (24 page)

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Authors: Kathy Love

BOOK: Devilishly Sexy
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Maybe she’d put it in her purse. She grabbed her satchel purse, placing it on the desk and disregarding her work as she unzipped it. She rooted around inside the bag, standing as if a higher sight line would suddenly make the bag appear. It didn’t.
“Where is it?”
In her head, she heard a chuckle.
Damn it, where was the bag? It had been here.
She sat back down, leaning so far under her desk she was practically crawling underneath. But there was no bag.
Just then she heard a knock on her office door, and she didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
“Liza, are you in here?”
Michael. She remained still, hoping somehow she could simply hide under her desk and he would leave. But no such luck. She heard his footfalls coming into the room.
“Liza? What are you doing under your desk?”
Boris chuckled louder.
Wow, it’s amazing how quickly I’m feeling better. No wrong side of the bed for me today.
Chapter Twenty-eight
M
ichael walked over to the side of Liza’s desk, peering down at her bottom and feet poking out from underneath.
“Liza? What are you doing?”
She didn’t move for a moment, reminding him of a child in a game of hide-and-seek who thought because she couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see her.
But after a moment, she backed out of her hiding spot, looking up at him with an expression somewhere between confused and wary.
“I—I just dropped something under my desk,” she finally said with an awkward smile.
“Did you find it?”
She nodded, although he noticed she didn’t appear to have anything in either of her hands. But then he already suspected she wasn’t looking for something she’d dropped, but rather something she’d lost. And she didn’t actually lose it—he’d stolen it. She’d been looking for her bag of allergy medication. He was certain of that.
But rather than confront her about it now, he held out a hand to her. “Are you ready to go to dinner? I know I’m kind of early, but you’ve been working so many long hours, I figured one early night couldn’t hurt.”
She stared at his proffered hand, making no attempt to take it. In fact, she regarded his open palm and extended fingers like they were a nest of poisonous snakes.
What was wrong?
“Are you okay?”
She instantly nodded, but actually almost crab-walked to scoot away from him. Only then did she use the edge of the desk to pull herself to her feet. She brushed her hands down the front of her skirt to smooth down the fabric.
“I’m fine. Just a little preoccupied with this project I’m working on. In fact, maybe you should give me a little longer to work on it.”
Michael regarded her. She was pale, he noticed, and she seemed to be breathing in shallow puffs. Was she having one of her spells again?
He thought about the meds he’d tossed out earlier. What if the medicine wasn’t causing these strange bouts, but actually helping them? But if that was the case, wouldn’t she explain her problem to him? He wasn’t sure.
“Liza, you don’t look well.”
To his surprise, she agreed. “I’m not feeling well. Maybe you could get me some water.”
He hesitated, not sure he should leave her. “Okay, but please sit down.” He started to come around the desk to help her, offer her an arm to keep her steady, but again she moved away.
Like she had before in this very office. She didn’t want him to touch her. But why? And especially now after all the times they’d been intimate. After the hours they’d spent in each other’s arms.
“I’m fine,” she said, holding up a hand.
He studied her for a moment, then decided to let her reaction go. “Okay. Wait right here.”
She nodded, shifting around the far side of the desk and back to her chair, clearly avoiding him.
He waited until she was seated, then headed toward the door, but once outside, he didn’t head to the water cooler just a few cubicles away from her office. Instead, he stepped to the side and listened.
For a moment, he heard nothing. Then he thought he heard her murmur something. He leaned a little closer, being careful that she couldn’t see him.
“Oh, shut up.”
Michael frowned. Who was she talking to? Herself?
Again he remembered she’d also talked to herself earlier in their relationship, although she hadn’t done so recently.
So what had triggered the return of these behaviors? She didn’t want to be touched. She was talking to herself.
“You just wait. You won’t see the light of day for the next year.”
Michael frowned again. Who the hell was she talking to? And what did she mean?
He peeked around the corner to see she’d laid her head on the desk, almost as if she were terribly weary. He used that moment to slip back into her office.
Using his slayer stealth, he crept closer to her, stopping right beside her chair.
“Where are the pills?” she muttered without lifting her head, and only then did he touch her.
“Liza, they are gone. I threw them out.”
She started at his touch and words, but he didn’t let her go, using his other hand to tug her up out of her chair so he could stare directly into her eyes, her wide, shocked eyes. Actually, she looked more than shocked. She looked terrified.
“Liza, what’s going on?”
 
Liza couldn’t speak for a moment. Michael was touching her, and Boris was seeing him. The one thing she’d never wanted was happening. Boris was now a part of her relationship.
But instead of lewd comments about Michael’s good looks, or suggestive ideas of what the three of them could do, Boris only said two words.
Michael Archer.
Liza frowned. She wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard Michael’s name before or not, but the way Boris said his name didn’t sound like he was simply repeating a name he’d heard her use. Instead, he seemed to be saying Michael’s name like he recognized him. But how could he?
Michael Archer, the demon slayer.
“Demon slayer?” What was he talking about?
“What did you say?”
Only then, as Michael stared at her with almost hard eyes, did Liza realize she’d said the words aloud.
“I—I don’t know,” she sputtered, her answer not untrue. She really didn’t know what she’d said. She’d just been repeating Boris’s words.
I thought I’d seen the last of this demon-killing bastard.
Liza couldn’t understand what Boris was talking about. Michael didn’t kill demons. He delivered mail. He didn’t even know demons ran
HOT!
magazine. Did he?
Deliver mail? Hardly. This man is a demon slayer. A very dangerous one. One I thought I’d put out of commission indefinitely.
Liza shook her head. She had no idea what was going on.
“You said demon slayer? Why?” Michael’s eyes searched hers.
I should have just killed him.
“No,” she said, again not catching herself. And this was why Boris needed to be drugged at all times. She couldn’t not react to the commentary in her head. Of course, this particular commentary was crazy.
Michael, a demon slayer. Boris had to be delusional from all the hours of being drugged.
Hardly. I know the slayer I once defeated. And will defeat again. I will tell Finola, Tristan, anyone who will listen. Michael Archer, demon slayer and member of The Brethren, will be killed at last.
“The Brethren? Killed? No,” she stated, fear filling her, even though she didn’t understand what was going on.
Suddenly Michael’s hold on her arms tightened, almost painfully.
“How do you know about The Brethren? What do you mean killed?” he demanded, his voice taking on a tone she’d never heard him use with her before. More fear filled her. Whatever Boris was talking about, Michael knew something about it too.
“I—I don’t know,” she repeated.
But I do. I know your boyfriend very, very well. And he knows me. I was once his worst nightmare.
Liza shook her head, not wanting this to be true. She’d believed Michael knew nothing about the demons around them. She’d wanted to believe he was no part of the demon takeover.
But he is.
Boris’s voice was the one that was taunting and smug now.
 
Michael frowned, trying to understand what was going on. Liza stared at him as if she were staring at a monster. And she kept saying things that sounded as if she knew what he was, except each time she said something like “demon slayer” or “The Brethren,” the terms had question marks after them as if she didn’t even understand what she was saying. As if she was just repeating the words.
She twisted again in his hold, clearly wanting to get away.
“Liza, tell me what’s going on,” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” she repeated. “I don’t understand.”
She winced, but he didn’t believe it was because of his touch. He wasn’t holding her that tight, but he did release her. He didn’t want to hurt or scare her.
She stumbled away from him, and her hands went up to her ears, covering them as if to block out something only she could hear. She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head.
“You are lying,” she said, shaking her head.
“Lying about what?” Damn it, what was going on? She knew something about him, that much was certain. But what and how and why couldn’t she just tell him what was going on?
“You have to bring her with us.”
Michael turned then to see Elton standing just inside the door; behind him was Gabriel. More confusion bombarded him. He didn’t understand what was going on at all. Was Liza somehow psychic? And was she going crazy or something?
When he looked back at her, she also looked toward the door, seeing the other men. She looked confused too, but then she flinched again and her hands went back to her head.
Something was definitely wrong with her.
“We aren’t going to hurt her,” Elton said, stepping farther into the room. Gabriel shut the door and stood guard there. He nodded as if to confirm what the old man said.
“But she does need to go with us,” Elton said in his gravelly, yet almost soothing voice. “For her protection as well as yours.”
“Tell me what’s going on,” Michael demanded, casting another worried look toward the clearly overwhelmed Liza. She scrunched her eyes shut again as if to block them out, although Michael sensed it wasn’t the people around her that she was trying to shut out. It was someone else.
“We need to do this quickly,” Gabriel said, shifting to look out the small window in the door. “We can’t risk discovery now.”
“Michael, this has to be done,” Elton assured him, giving him an almost fatherly look. He then rushed over to Liza with more speed than Michael would have imagined the old man capable of. Michael charged forward too, not sure what he intended to do. But before either he or Liza could react, Elton pressed a small rectangle against the side of Liza’s neck, and she started to crumple to the ground.
Michael caught her before she fell.
“What the hell,” Michael growled.
“It didn’t hurt her and the effects are not long-lasting, so we’ve got to move,” Elton said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Now.”
“The coast is clear,” Gabriel said from his position peering out the door. “Let’s go. Now, Michael.”
Michael looked down at the unconscious Liza, and decided he had to trust that his fellow DIA members had her best interests at heart, as well as his own. The truth was, he had little choice.
He followed Gabriel, and Elton followed him. They rushed to a set of doors that led to a back hallway and a freight elevator.
“Do you think anyone saw?” he asked Gabriel.
“No. We were lucky.” He herded them onto the elevator.
“How did you know about all of this?” Michael asked, looking down at Liza, concern and confusion at war inside him. “How did you know she would recognize me?”
“I’ve been watching her,” Elton said. “I’ve been watching you both.”
“Why?” Michael had no idea what was going on.
“We will explain once we are all safely downstairs,” Gabriel said.
Michael wanted to keep asking questions, but knew there was no point. Not now. He’d have to wait to get the answers to his questions. He just prayed they were the answers he wanted.
 
“Finola was right,” Dippy said. “Your pacing is pretty annoying.”
“Well, so is the constant licking,” Tristan pointed out.
Dippy lowered his back leg. “It’s grooming.”
“Whatever.” Tristan strode across the carpet of his office, pausing to look out at the city skyline.
“I don’t see what you are fixating on,” the dog said. “I mean, the whole Liza and boyfriend thing is a bust. I’ve been saying right along we need a new plan, and now we officially do. Finola is just hunky-dory with both of those humans.”
Tristan nodded. “I know, but I keep feeling I know something about that guy—that what’s-his-name.”
“I believe he’s named Michael Archer.”
Tristan nodded again.
“But let’s face it. If Finola is fine with Liza drugging the drool out of Bartoris, she’s not going to have any further interest in this Michael Archer. Even if we manufacture something about him. At this point, what could we make up that would be bad enough to get Finola’s attention?”
Tristan knew the hellhound had a point. What could they make up about Michael Archer? He then thought about poor, silly Bartoris—that demon would probably rather go back to Hell than exist the way he was now. He was an annoying little weasel of a demon, always bragging about this and that, but even Bartoris didn’t deserve to exist in a comatose state.

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