God's Eye (14 page)

Katharine had to laugh at that one. She actually giggled at the image of herself on a stakeout, cold coffee in one hand, binoculars in the other. As stupid as the image was, it drove home a point: she had no idea what she was doing when it came to gathering personal information on someone. “You’re right.”

They spent the afternoon calling two PIs they found in the phonebook, another her friend had used once, and a fourth her father recommended. They managed to interview two of them and finally went with the one her father had requested. Patricia Sange was a great choice. Katharine and Allistair agreed that Mary would be less likely to suspect that a woman was stalking her than a man.

Finding the PI took up most of their afternoon. Allistair stayed late even though Katharine told him he was excused. He said he was new to the area, and what else was he going to do anyway? She didn’t say it but she appreciated the company. The building was mostly cleared out by six thirty, and those that stayed did so because they wanted to work uninterrupted. So the place was a ghost town after seven. Usually it didn’t bother her, but after last night she would have likely invited the janitor in to play solitaire on Allistair’s computer just to have someone else in the room.

Truth be told, if she had her choice of someone to stay with her she would have picked Allistair anyway. He wasn’t the biggest or brawniest guy she had ever met, but he was solid. He looked like he knew how to throw a good punch. More importantly, he looked like he wouldn’t shy away from things he couldn’t just hit. The hell beast wouldn’t visit her with him here.

Of course, when she went home she’d be–

Her brain cut off mid-thought. She’d be with Zachary, that’s what she’d be. Her
boyfriend.
The one she’d completely forgotten about while taking the measure of the man across the desk.

She studied Allistair–he was working hard, typing and reading like there was no tomorrow. For a moment she wondered if he was faking–just tapping keys while he was really looking at porn. She wondered if his facial expression would give him away. But just then, he looked up at her and flashed her a grin that blanked out her mind again. Lord, that smile was devastating. Katharine quickly averted her eyes, trying desperately not to be pulled into whatever gravitational force the man held sway over.

She turned back to her own research. Allistair’s work had yielded a few good leads on the gem mine as well as the info they needed to dig further into MaraxCo, WeldLink’s parent company. They had to have the reports with recommendations to the board in two days. She was uncovering the last of what she needed on the mine. Tomorrow she’d have time to make a pretty presentation out of it.

The gem stock research was turning out to be fairly cut and dried. The mine had cheap local labor. The best anyone could tell, the gem source ran deep. But mines were always a gamble that way. This one looked like a good bet. She gathered data on the number of workers and the wages they were earning. Then she added her stamp of approval on a large stock purchase before Allistair’s voice once again broke into her thoughts as he recommended Chinese delivery.

Half an hour later, they were taking a break with cardboard cartons and chopsticks–which Allistair used very well and Katharine used to make a fool of herself. But she tried to keep it together and eat while Allistair regaled her with his research between bites.

“The reason we were having trouble finding the info is that we were looking in the wrong direction. Metal works of MaraxCo’s style do not make sewing fripperies.”

“Fripperies, huh?” She couldn’t help but grin, even though the chicken smelled delicious and she just couldn’t seem to get a single bite to her mouth. The chopsticks thwarted her at every turn. Her mother’s insistence on proper etiquette mandated that Katharine would never be so uncouth as to eat Chinese food from a box. Katharine’s own sense of pride recoiled just as much at the thought of giving up the proper hold and using the ends of the sticks to stab the little suckers.

Allistair seemed not to notice her struggle. She didn’t know whether that was a blessing or not. His voice pulled her away from her thoughts of chopsticks. “The pins that MaraxCo produces are firing pins.”

“Like in guns?”

“Exactly. And they just patented a new method of pouring the molds that uses only two-thirds the metal and produces the pins almost twice as fast.”

Katharine mulled that over for a minute. “Then MaraxCo could take a big chunk of the market.”

Allistair unknowingly taunted her by taking a huge bite of his sweet and sour pork. “Does the company frown on purchases like that?”

Katharine blinked. What did he mean? “Investing in new technology that will likely make the stockholders as well as Light & Geryon a ton of money?”

“No, I meant firearms.”

“Oh … no.” She tried again for another bite.

“Then I guess we’ll all get rich.” He grinned. “How long before you ask for help with those things?”

She sighed. “That obvious?”

With a perfectly straight face, he answered, “Of course not.” Then proceeded to take the chopsticks out of her hand and mold her fingers around them correctly.

Katharine wanted to pay attention to what she was learning, but it was as though the rest of the world disappeared into clouds beyond the two of them. When she tried the new hold for herself, her fingers slipped and again she dropped the piece she was after. Allistair demonstrated, but instead of watching his hands, she watched his mouth. Only for a moment did she even consider yanking her thoughts from the foolish path they had wandered.

She watched his lips as they curved into an angelic smile and, because she was watching his mouth, she didn’t see the flash of sun in his eyes or the movement that brought him closer. Her body responded, sending its own flare of heat to the heavens, as he entered her space.

Still sitting against the edge of her desk, she leaned forward, reaching for him as surely as he was reaching for her. Their mouths met, devouring each other in their need. She felt him slide between her legs, his body pressed up against hers. She could feel him, hard and heavy, moving against her. His hands searched out the edge of her blouse and slipped up underneath. He was everywhere, and she wanted to respond in kind, wanted to touch him, feel the man beneath the skin. But she was held in place, her hands flat against the desk behind her, the only way to stay upright under his touch. He tasted of ambrosia and his hot touch brought her skin to life, his name escaping past her lips like a prayer.

It must have been the sound of his own name that snapped him out of whatever spell they were under.

“Katharine”
was the only sound he made as he jerked away–almost as if by an unseen hand.

She went cold with the shock of it. In the split second it took him to mumble an excuse and leave her there, she saw that the buttons on her shirt were undone. Her skirt was pushed up nearly to her waist. And tendrils of hair had fallen from where she’d pulled it back.

She was draped across the front of her own desk, open to God and man. If anyone had walked in on her right then, there would have been no doubt about what she had been doing, only whom she’d been doing it with. Allistair was long gone.

Zachary pushed through the veil. His wings folded in, disappearing as he became the Zachary that Katharine recognized–as he became, for all intents and purposes, mortal. He didn’t really notice the loss of his wings, nor that his fingers had shortened, his legs straightened, and his size shrunk to that of a human. He was too busy gritting his forming teeth and waiting through the intense pain.

He would have bet that he’d eventually get used to it, but he didn’t bet. A good thing too, because he would have lost that one. Each time it was worse than he remembered it, like a human trauma. Although he figured it was
like
human trauma because it
was
human trauma–it faded with distance. Just enough to almost be a shock each time it hurt so bad.

But he pushed through and lay panting in the middle of the floor in a huge pile of soot in what should have been his home office. Katharine had seen him haul the steam cleaner into the unit a few days ago, not that she had any clue what it was for. He was waiting for her to ask to borrow it–had schooled himself against the irony, that he owned the damn thing to clean up after his own comings and goings, but she would need it to clean up after Allistair. Well, and himself.

He couldn’t very well be around all the time in his human form. He was already doing a fair job of that. But Allistair had been a sneaky little bastard; he’d gotten himself that job right across from her desk, and he had clearly been in her condo a number of times, even though Katharine wasn’t aware of that. Zachary had been forced to do a little recon.

His keen hearing picked up footsteps in the hallway beyond his door; Katharine was home. So he finally dragged himself up off the carpet and out of the ash he was lying in. Pushing haphazardly to his feet, he nearly stumbled into the shower. He was in a hurry. Katharine was waiting for him. A few minutes later he was clean and more energized–as usual, the pain and effort of coming through had already faded somewhat from his memory.

He dressed hastily and proceeded to vacuum the floor. He could explain the open space in the apartment and the unused spare room since he’d only recently moved here. But given what had been happening at Katharine’s lately, there was no way she would let him talk his way out of that big heap of soot. Especially when it had a Zachary-shaped dent in the middle of it. He got every last bit that he could before putting the wet vac away. He then picked out a few flowers from the stash he’d gathered earlier and grasped them into a bundle for Katharine.

Locking his door behind him, he carried the cluster the few steps down the hallway to her door. After he knocked he stepped back and waited, then knocked again. But still nothing. He had decided she must be in the shower when the elevator dinged behind him and he smelled her.

Turning in confusion, he looked down the hallway.

“Hey, Zachary.” She looked exhausted, but inquired about him anyway. “What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t answer. I could have sworn I heard you coming in about fifteen minutes ago.”

She shrugged, the movement looking like it took almost all the effort she had. “It wasn’t me.” She moved past him to put the key in the lock and he barely got out of the way in time. He had been so certain he’d heard her that he’d come over even though she’d said she would call when she got in.

Katharine brushed against him on her way through the door. The smell reached up and tickled Zachary under the nose. Then it grabbed him in the gut. Allistair.

It wasn’t sex, but it was sexual. He’d been all over her. And this was far more threatening than what Zachary had read off her in the past. It seemed they hadn’t actually had sex, but Allistair had sent her back to him reeking of intimacy. Likely, he’d known he was doing it, too.

Zachary fought the surge of anger that welled up and pushed back the desire to look around, through the veil, to see if Allistair sat, smirking just on the other side. Slowly, Zachary pushed the bile back down. He was better than this. Better than Allistair. And he deserved to win. There was no question of that. Katharine was perfect for him. He’d known that from the start. Allistair was only after her because Zachary wanted her, not because she was wanted or worthy or anything like that.

Zachary couldn’t lose her. Not in that way. Not when it would be so unfair for Katharine to have to serve Allistair. She would never fit in there. She belonged here, with him. Zachary needed her. And she needed him.

Even though he had shoved back the anger and managed to hold it at bay, it still grabbed at him each time she came near. His eyes flared when she shed her jacket, and he offered to take it, using the opportunity to make certain his hand touched her skin. He saw the flash of an image: Allistair laying her across her desk. Zachary turned away so she wouldn’t see the burn in his eyes.

Driving it down again, he didn’t give in to the mirthless laugh that threatened to erupt when she said she needed a quick shower. A shower wouldn’t wash away what he smelled. Zachary was going to have to spend the evening with her while she smelled like his opponent, which made it even more important that he didn’t lose his head, or duck and run off. He’d have to tie the bonds between them a little tighter–to keep her safe from Allistair.

Sitting and waiting while the water surged in the shower, he mused that while he might have to smell Allistair on her tonight, when she went back tomorrow Allistair would smell him. Zachary would make certain of it.

•  •  •

Allistair was mortified. If there was one thing he wasn’t supposed to do, that had been it. He fell back onto the bed, still somewhat in his human form, unable to change completely while he was so conflicted.

He moaned, and the voice that left his body told him that he was already more creature than human. Good thing he was alone. If Zachary saw him this way, he would …