Even Villains Have Interns (11 page)

Kalydon creaked as he leaned forward. “I have
more money than God. I can make you. I can break you. Give me what
I want, and we’ll be friends.”

Alan shook his head. “I’m sorry, what are you
looking for? Tax breaks? A license to kill? Introductions to a golf
club? I’m very sorry that Arámbula misled you, but that’s not what
mayors do.”

“You can get the superheroes out of my way,”
Kalydon said. “That’ll be enough.”

Alan hid his thrill of nerves with a raised
eyebrow. “I don’t think Chicago has superheroes.”

Kalydon sneered at him. “That’s what book
learning does for you. Makes you think you’re smart when you’re
stupid as a pig. There’s at least two in the city right now, maybe
more. Monday morning I want you to draft some papers kicking ‘em
out of the city.”

Alan raised an eyebrow. “I’m not Hitler. I won’t
pin the proverbial Star of David on anyone so you can be happier.
And I certainly won’t knock on doors to ask people if they’re
mutant freaks. As long as they’re living the laws of the land, I
don’t care what they do.”

“So change the laws,” Kalydon said. “Or watch
your back. Your choice.” He stood up with Chasten’s help. “I expect
you’ll see reason soon enough. If not?” He shrugged. “Politicians
are cheap in Chicago.”

Delilah,

I’m not going to make it up to surprise
Blessing for Christmas like we talked about. There’s a mission I
need to run. Something last minute. I’m sorry. Tell Blessing I’m
sorry. She’ll understand. I’ll be home by New Years.

Blessing’s gift is being mailed to you.
Please make sure she gets it on Christmas. Tell her I love her.

Respectfully yours,

MJR Noah Cobb

5 SFG(A), 2nd Battalion

Fort William Henry Harrison, MO

Office: (408) 555-2152

Alan stood in the cold, staring at the light
shining through his apartment window as snow flurries fell around
him. Getting shot had been a very bad idea. Getting shot again
because an assassin was waiting in his living room sounded even
worse. Two press conferences in twenty-four hours was something
that should be banned by the Geneva Convention. And keeping Chasten
Huntley on staff was definitely against the eighth amendment. First
thing tomorrow he and Chasten were going to have a little chat
about acceptable political behavior, and then Chasten could check
out with HR and go find a new job. Preferably a long way from
Chicago.

But that was a problem for tomorrow.

Frowning, Alan typed in the passcode to get into
his building and took the private elevator to the seventh floor.
All three of his neighbors were the married-to-work types who saw
apartments like this as a place to sleep when in town and nothing
more. Alan felt he fit right in.

He unlocked the door and waited for the sound of
movement. The light stayed on. Alan pushed the door open and the
scent of Chinese food wafted out into the hall.

Delilah sat on the couch reading, legs curled
up, high heels lying neglected by the front door. It hurt. The pain
of wanting was staggering. How many times had he dreamed of this?
Of coming home to something other than a cold, empty house?

Delilah glanced up, smile warm and engaging.
“Are you all right?”

No.
“Yes.”

“You look a little pale.”

“Long day at the office.” He couldn’t seem to
convince his feet to move. Everything he wanted was just across the
threshold and he couldn’t take that step. Delilah stood up, long
limbs stretching like a ballerina ready to dance. The way her hips
moved as she walked toward him was mesmerizing. Every curve begged
to be touched. Caressed. And oh, how he wanted to reach out and
hold her. But he couldn’t.

She stopped in front of him. “Alan? Are you sure
you’re not hurt?”

“No worse than I was.” She took his hand in
hers, and the warmth broke the spell. He shook his head. “Sorry.
Tired.”

“Shock,” she said with the authority of one who
had seen it before. Delilah tugged at his arm and brought him
inside. “Let’s sit down and eat.”

Alan took his coat off and tried to reorder his
thoughts. She wasn’t doing this on purpose, he was certain of that.
At least, ninety-five percent certain. He’d been on the receiving
end of seduction before and it usually involved less clothing on
the part of the seducer. One girl had gone as far as to wait for
him in his dorm room wearing nothing but a bright blue thong.
Delilah was still dressed in her suit from the office.

“Alan?” She laid the plates on the table with
efficient ease. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re shaking.” She came to him, hands
brushing his arms. “Are you cold? Sick?” Concern and fear filled
her dark eyes. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” He stepped away, retreating to the
familiar comfort of his overstuffed couch. “It’s... silliness. I’ll
tell you after dinner.”

She raised a questioning eyebrow. “It’s really
hard to partner with someone, or guard them, if they’re keeping
secrets. I find it particularly annoying.” The muscles around her
eyes tightened with anger.

He sighed in defeat. “It’s been a bad day and to
come home to this...” The words trailed off as he choked on the
rest.

She sat down across from him. “I didn’t think
I’d scare you. I didn’t even think about how shocking it must be to
get shot like that. I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me.” She
shook her head in disgust. “You weren’t here at eight and I didn’t
want to sit on the landing while the food grew cold.”

“It’s not that.” He licked his lips as he tried
to think of a way to explain. “I’m not good with emotions I guess.
It’s getting shot, the press conference, Arámbula’s viewing, police
reports, there was a lot of emotional stress today. Other things. I
came home on the defensive. And then you were just here. Sitting
here.”

“I’m so sorry.” Delilah stood up and slipped on
her shoes. “Try to eat, please? And I’ll, um, send you a text or
something if I hear anything about our mutual friend.”

Alan spun around in confusion. “What? Where are
you going?”

Delilah stood frozen by the hall closet, coat in
hand. “Home?”

“I thought we were going to eat dinner together.
Catch up. Talk.”

“Not when you’re already stressed out.” She
pulled her coat over. With a sweet smile she walked over and kissed
him on the forehead, a virgin-saint blessing the sick. “It’s not a
big deal. This can wait until you recover.”

“I’m not stressed!” Alan protested.

“Then what’s wrong?”

He sat back, staring at the curtain-covered
windows. “I was happy.”

Silence filled the room with an unwelcome
chill.

“I’ve never had someone waiting for me. Never
had someone care if I was sick, or late, or dead.” Old pain stabbed
at his heart. “I’ve never come home to a hot dinner before.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s home cooked or
anything,” Delilah said with the brittle laugh of someone
desperately trying to escape the deep end of the emotional
spectrum.

He nodded, still refusing to turn around. A hot
meal made him tear up? Very manly. Very romantic. He sighed and
waited for the door to creak open as Delilah left.

Her coat flopped over the back of the couch
beside him.

“That wasn’t a guilt trip,” he muttered, vaguely
ashamed. “I wasn’t trying to make you stay.”

“I was going to leave because I thought you
needed space.” She sat down beside him.

“And now?”

“Now I think you need someone here. To be a
friend, if nothing else.”

He glanced sideways at her. “What if I wanted
more than a friend?”

Her smile turned seductive. “Hmmm.” Delilah
leaned toward him, hand resting suggestively on his knee. “I’m sure
that could be a topic of discussion.” Her lips were a breath away
from his. “I do have a weakness for brainy blonds.”

Alan leaned in to steal a kiss.

Delilah ducked away. “But remember the To Do
list. Unlock the door, then seduce the superhero.”

“Ah, see, there’s our problem. Right now I’m a
pro tem mayor, not a superhero. And at the very top of my to-do
list is seducing a world-class rogue and security operative.”

“Is it?” Delilah gasped with mock surprise, hand
covering her delightful lips. “Dear me! Whatever shall I do to
protect myself from your wicked blandishments, Mister Adale?”

The thick southern accent she served up made him
laugh. “I think Southern belles are supposed to swoon at my dashing
and romantic nature and kiss me passionately.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Pretty sure. Read it in a book
once.”

“Must not have been a Texas southern belle.”
Delilah stood up, all playfulness gone. “Dinner first. You’re still
recovering.”

“A kiss would make me better.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Would it stop with one
kiss?”

He paused. “It could.”

Delilah didn’t seem convinced.

“We should try it. For the sake of science.”

She rolled her eyes but came back to him. “For
science?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“That’s your best pick up line?”

“My best pickup line is, ‘Hello, what’s your
name?’ But when I used it on you, you gave me a look that promised
a painful death and walked away without a backward glance. I
remember it quite clearly.”

Delilah shrugged. “It’d been a long day and I
didn’t need another bad boy in my life.”

“But I’m not a bad boy,” Alan assured her as his
hand slipped around her waist to pull her closer.

“You’re not a boy at all. I like that in a
man.”

Delilah’s lips were soft, gentle, teasing...
like a dream dancing just out of reach of memory. He pulled her
closer, wanting to catch hold of the magic she brought with
her.

Her fingers caressed his cheekbone. A moment
later she was straddling him on the couch and he was lost in her
touch.

Delilah pulled away. He whimpered in dismay, and
then the whimper became a groan of lust as hot lips trailed kisses
up his neck.

“We. Need. To. Eat,” she whispered in his
ear.

Alan caught her wrist. “Food is overrated.”

“If we don’t eat, how will we have energy for
anything else?”

The promise of more was a drug, a seductive lure
with poison inside. Alan narrowed his eyes. “Now you’re teasing
me.”

“Yup,” Delilah said as she stood up, pulling him
with her.

He shook his head, feeling like a fool. At least
that was familiar territory. She wrapped him in knots, played him
like a yo-yo, and when she smiled all he could think of was winning
another kiss. “You are a wicked, wicked woman, Delilah.”

Her eyes sparkled with secret mirth. “Me?” She
fluttered her eyelashes innocently. “You seduced me with your suave
demeanor and reckless charm.”

“Reckless charm?” He propped himself up on one
elbow. “If you were enjoying that as much as I was, why are we
stopping for dinner?”

“Because you’re healing at a superhuman rate,
and that takes more energy than you think.” She kissed him again,
leaving his head spinning. “You’re shaking,” she said softly. “I
stopped because I don’t want to see you hurt. Let’s eat dinner. Get
you healed. And then we’ll talk about everything.”

***

In the study, Delilah held her carton of Chinese
food in front of her like a shield to protect her somewhat
tarnished virtue. That butt! Alan stretched again, slacks cupping a
grade A rump as he rearranged his player board. This wasn’t how it
was supposed to work. Every storybook said she’d kiss her crush, no
sparks would fly, and she’d learn her lesson. It would leave her
jaded and better able to focus full time on her work. A kiss to
tease the hero wasn’t supposed to leave her so hungry for more,
that Mongolian beef wasn’t hot enough to burn away the memory of
his touch. She sighed.

Alan turned around. “Are you okay? Am I boring
you?”

“Um...” Telling him she’d stopped listening ten
minutes ago was going to cause all sorts of problems. “They skimped
on the chili flakes,” she said, waggling her half-eaten box of
dinner. “It’s bland.”

His lips quirked up in an endearing smile. “I’m
so sorry. Do I need to get you some hot sauce?”

Was that a pick-up line? Delilah tried to think
of a good reply.
I’ve got your hot sauce right here
.
I
like it hot and saucy, and I’m not talking sriracha
.

“And that concludes the boring portion of our
evening.” Alan coughed and tucked his notes away. “You know all
this already, don’t you?”

“The board? Yeah, I’ve got the same one at my
place. Great minds and all.” She abandoned her dinner on Alan’s
desk. “The only major difference is here,” she tapped Alan’s
picture off to the side, “here,” she tapped her own in the
midlevel-hoodlum-management level, “and here,” she tapped Ivan’s
surly mug. “I had you and Arámbula tagged as major criminal
players.”

“His wife was. Her family is very old, very
dirty, and has lots of money.”

Delilah nodded. “I figured that out. But I’m
still not here, and I think you’ve got Ivan too high.”

“Ivan runs contracts for
Vtoraya
Volna
—Second Wave—they’re Russia’s answer to The Company, if
The Company ran guns for Serbian terrorists. Ivan’s American born,
Russian raised, and good at not being there when the outhouse hits
the fan.”

“I noticed that about him.”

“He’s one of their captains. Not likely to go
any higher, but he’s not a low level flunky.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Which begs the question,
‘What is Mon Capitaine doing in Chicago?’”

“Your captain?” Alan gave her a quizzical look.
“You and Ivan have a thing?”

“We exchange punches on a regular basis.”

“Right. Well, now I’m irrationally jealous of a
thug.” Alan shook his head in disbelief. “You ditched dinner with
me for Ivan.”