Temping is Hell Page 16

  Maggie pulled out a slim, sealed black envelope. Kate couldn’t help but notice the seal had been broken.

  “I’m allowed to read these,” Maggie said defensively, at Kate’s suspicious look. “Thomas knows better than to keep me out of it. I’m involved with this.”

  “I see.” Kate laced her voice with obvious skepticism.

  “Fine.” Maggie tossed it on top of the pile. Then she frowned. “Do you even know what’s in it? Are you supposed to know about this?”

  No, but I will as soon as I get out of here. Kate shrugged. “It’s… the report,” she said vaguely.

  Maggie’s look was withering. “Thomas and I have been through more together than you can even imagine,” she said, and there was real pain in her voice. “This is more than business. You have no idea what we really do here at Fiendish!”

  Holy shit. She knows about what’s going on in the basement.

  Again. Dumb… but not that dumb.

  But she’s got a weak spot. And I know just how to trigger it.

  “Well, I guess I’ll just have to ask him to fill me in about all that later,” she said, then took a deep breath and shot her best Mean Girls smile at Maggie. “If the way he kisses is any indication, I’m pretty sure that he’s going to fill me in plenty.”

  Maggie turned beet red, and looked like she was going to shoot flames out of her eyes.

  “Don’t worry, sugar,” Kate drawled, mimicking Maggie. “Whatever you’ve got going on at Fiendish, I’m sure that I can handle it—and everything else about Thomas—from now on.”

  Maggie went white, then a sort of purplish. Her face was like a big mood ring. “He told you? About… about the demons? The contracts? Everything?”

  “He’s told me enough,” Kate said casually, praying Maggie would just take the bait and not call the bluff.

  “I don’t believe this.” Maggie looked disgusted. “Well, then I guess you can read everything in that file. It’s the first signatory.”

  “The one I found,” Kate clarified, still playing along, her mind shuffling for details. “Victor Klauss, right?”

  “Oooh. Look who’s the expert.” Maggie’s expression was bitter. “Next I suppose you’re going to tell me that you’ll be holding the knife for Thomas, as well, when he goes after this guy.”

  Kate’s brain stuttered, and she nearly dropped the box of files. “I… What?”

  “The P.I. says we’re lucky, that this should be a cakewalk. Victor Klauss weighs about a hundred pounds, he’s ninety years old, and he has no bodyguards and crappy locks,” Maggie said, crossing her arms. “And he never leaves his house. Easy to trap, easy to take out. A total softball. Do you really think Thomas was planning on telling you all about that?”

  Kate knew she should respond, but she didn’t know how. She just kept swallowing convulsively, trying not to throw up, hanging onto the box of files like it was a life raft, despite the weight.

  “Still think you can handle things, Kate?” Maggie’s voice was mocking, and poisonously sweet. “You’re looking a little pale.”

  “I… I have to go,” Kate murmured, turning and fleeing.

  “Guess you’re not quite the tough Oakland girl after all. Now, don’t forget to give Thomas that file,” Maggie’s voice trailed her down the hall. “If I know him, he’ll probably want that little chore taken care of, before he goes out to dinner! Unless you think you can handle it!”

  Kate rushed down the confusing hallways, ducking into the little room that Maggie had stuck her in on her first day there. Leaning against the closed door, she started breathing hard, in gulping, gasping breaths.

  Well… I found out what Thomas is up to.

  Thomas was finding people who signed the contracts, all right.

  And now that he’d found one, he was going to kill a ninety-year-old weakling. This afternoon.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “We should’ve had the information by now,” Thomas said, pacing around his office.

  His body felt tense as a tripwire. Finding the names of the signatories had been the tipping point. Now, one of Yagi’s investigators claimed to have actually found the first signatory. Said the man was local. He was sending over all the information they’d gathered to date via courier—with Cyril’s spies running around, they didn’t want to tip their hand.

  Now, I’m up on deck.

  Thomas knew he’d have to kill—kill thirteen people, to be precise. He knew he’d only get out of his contract if he killed Cyril; he knew that he couldn’t get to Cyril unless he killed the twelve who had signed on to protect his sorry ass. Thomas had trained, physically and metaphysically, for the past eight years.

  But I’ve never actually killed anyone.

  But today… today, he would.

  “If I get the fucking address,” he muttered to himself, ignoring his nerves by pacing.

  “You haven’t been meditating.” Yagi was standing, cool as Frank Sinatra, leaning against the obsidian wall.

  “No, I haven’t been meditating,” Thomas said, realizing that his drawl was even more pronounced.

  Did you know you sound more Southern when you’re upset?

  Thomas shook off Kate’s offhand observation. “Your investigator said that he had the address. Why hasn’t he sent it?”

  Yagi glanced at his watch, his motions graceful and smooth, like a magician. “I’ll give him another call.”

  Thomas thought he’d pace a groove into the lacquered floor. Yagi was frowning when he shut his phone down.

  “He said he sent it over,” Yagi said, irritation shading his words. “There wasn’t a lot of information—more is coming—but he had the address, at least, as well as some background. He said that he gave it to your secretary.”

  Thomas’s stomach fell. “Aw, hell. Kate didn’t get it, did she?”

  “Worse,” Yagi replied. “Maggie.”

  “Shit.” Thomas quick-stepped to the elevator, Yagi right at his side. This was way too important for Maggie to fuck around with. Especially when she was still feeling pissy about his decision to hire Kate.

  “Why did you have to use a private investigator, anyway?” Thomas asked Yagi. “Couldn’t you… you know?” He wiggled his fingers.

  “Couldn’t I do jazz hands?” Yagi asked, deadpan.

  Thomas glared at him.

  “It doesn’t work that way. I need to be in physical proximity, or have some piece of physical evidence, to use a tracking spell. The soul contracts prevent exactly that sort of magic, or else I would have used his signature to track him.”

  Fortunately, Yagi’s supernatural tracking abilities helped them manage to find Maggie’s office on the first try. “Where is it?” he said to Maggie, without preamble.

  She put down the phone she’d been fiddling with, frowning at him. “Maybe if you let me know what you’re talking about, instead of just stomping in here and yelling at me—”

  “The investigator said he’d given you the file on Victor Klauss. The first signatory.” Thomas glared at her. “Don’t play with this one, Maggie. This one is for Elizabeth.”

  “I’m not playing with anything,” she shot back. “Why don’t you ask your new secretary?”

  “Damn it, don’t get sidetracked with Kate nonsense. Where’s the file?”

  “I told you! I gave it to Kate!”

  “You what?” Thomas roared. “Why the hell would you give something like that to her? Was it open?”

  Maggie pouted. “I don’t need to answer these questions. You don’t want me around, you don’t think I’m—”

  “I don’t have time for this. Was it opened? Could she read it?”

  Maggie had a snap second of guile—and guilt—before she smoothed her face into her pageant smile. She’d been Miss Cape Fear… or almost, he remembered. Something about sleeping with a judge had gotten her disqualified. But still, she knew how to act for judges.

  She wasn’t convincing him.

  “Yes, it was open. But Thomas, like you
said… this is about Elizabeth,” she said, her voice subdued. “I had to open it. I had to know.”

  Even though he didn’t mean to, Thomas felt his heart wrench a little. “Victor Klauss is not the man responsible for Elizabeth’s death.”

  “He’s helping the man who is, right?” She sent him a soulful stare, wringing her hands.

  “Yeah. Now, I’ve got to take care of this,” Thomas said. He turned to Yagi. “Have them email the file over.”

  Yagi frowned. “It’s not secure. Cyril could—”

  “I don’t care. Maybe if we move quickly enough, Cyril won’t have time to stop it until it’s too late.”

  “We don’t even know what sort of signatory we’re dealing with,” Yagi said, as close to angry as Thomas had ever seen him.

  “Oh, it should be easy,” Maggie piped up, and both men stared at her. “I told you, I read the file. The guy’s ancient, like ninety years old, and he looks like a stiff wind could blow him over.” She smirked. “If you can’t find her, your little go-getter new hire might be out trying to bag him right now.”

  Thomas felt his sympathy evaporate. “Jesus, Maggie. Tell me… please tell me you didn’t mention anything about this to Kate.”

  Maggie shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I? I thought you were the one who said she was better equipped to handle your duties. If she’s too stupid to figure out what you’ve got going on, I can’t imagine why you’d hire her.” She smiled viciously. “Unless, of course, you hired her for other, non-administrative reasons…”

  “Getting back at me is one thing. Fucking up my chance at getting my soul back is another,” he roared. “Damn it, do you really think that I would’ve told her about this? That I’d tell anyone about this? Are you actually that stupid?”

  She finally started to look a little scared, but he didn’t care. Suddenly, he thought of Kate, in his office, not two hours earlier.

  I’m not going to do anything I don’t feel is right.

  Kate, the idealist. The hippie. The rescuer, with no concern for danger. The avenger of underdogs.

  The secretary with impulse control issues.

  If she’d just found a name of some old man, slated for murder, what would she do?

  “She might go to the police,” he muttered, looking at Yagi. “Her brother, her father…”

  “I’d have heard.” Yagi checked his phone. “I’ve got sources in the precincts. Given her history, I also doubt she’d go to her family without solid evidence, and other than hearsay”—he glowered at Maggie—“she has no proof.”

  “Right. So, she can’t go to the police or family without more to go on, but she’s not going to just let something bad happen to a little old man,” Thomas said. He rubbed at his temples. This would be just like her high school days, all over again. “So what would she… Ah, fuck.”

  He knew what she’d do.

  She’d warn the old guy herself.

  “Yagi…” he said, striding out the door without a backward glance at Maggie.

  “There will be a car waiting,” Yagi said, anticipating him. “We’ll just hope to head her off.”

  They got into the elevator to the parking garage. Fear and anger burned like acid in Thomas’s chest.

  Yagi cleared his throat. “Not to say I told you so, but…”

  “I know,” Thomas said, rushing toward the parking garage. “You said Kate would make all hell break loose.”

  Yagi waited. Then murmured, “And it took…”

  “I know,” Thomas ground out. “Not even a goddamned week.”

  …

  “So? How are things going at Fiendish?” Prue asked over Kate’s cell phone, concern in every syllable.

  Kate was glancing carefully at a map she’d printed out. Fortunately, her destination wasn’t far from the BART station, but she was still hoofing it.

  If she’d known she was going to try and prevent a murder, she would have borrowed her brother Tim’s truck again.

  “Well, I quit,” Kate said with a brittle laugh. “And I found out what all the hubbub was about. Thirteen people, Prue. He’s going to kill thirteen people.”

  “Dayyyyyyum,” Prue said, in obvious shock.

  “Starting this afternoon,” Kate tacked on, checking the map again.

  Prue went silent for a second. “Did you actually tell him you quit?”

  “I think he’ll figure it out when I don’t show up after lunch,” Kate said, checking the map again. “If he doesn’t have me killed outright, I’m pretty sure I’m not getting paid this week. Oh, and right now I’m headed to tell some old fart that I’m pretty sure he’s about to be whacked. So far, on a suck scale of one to ten, I’m all the way to eleven.”

  “I’ve got Nan working on the protective spells,” Prue said. If Kate hadn’t been Prue’s best friend for a decade, she’d never have heard the fear skittering behind her friend’s business-like tone. “I’ll get a taxi and come find you, and we’ll head over to Nan’s house. Where are you?”

  “I’m over in Lafayette,” she said. “This guy lives pretty close to the station.”

  “In that case, when you’re done, jump back on the train to Pleasanton. I’ll grab you at the station there,” Prue said. “Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to get you. I’ll make damned sure of that.”

  “And then what?” Kate said, her voice breaking despite her efforts to keep it steady. “I just lay low in Nan’s root cellar for a few years?”

  “Well, at least she’s a good cook.” Prue tried to joke, but her voice cracked, too.

  “My family’s not going to understand,” Kate said. “They’re going to think the cheese has finally slipped off my cracker… that I’m just as crazy and useless as they’ve always feared.” Her voice broke on the last sentence.

  “Shhh. It’ll be all right.”

  “How?”

  “We will make it all right,” Prue said, and her voice was like steel. “Think positive, yeah?”

  Kate let out a watery laugh. “I don’t think the power of positive thinking covers stuff like this. But I’ll try.”

  “You’re just going to warn the guy, right? You’re not going to try to… I don’t know, bring him into protective custody or something?” Prue said. “I’m doing some pretty fast talking to get Nan to work magic for you. I don’t know if she’d be cool with watching some stranger—and a signatory, to boot.”

  “I’m only going to warn him,” Kate reassured her.

  “Couldn’t you just call?”

  “First, he apparently has no phone. Second, even if he did have a phone, if somebody called you and said this big billionaire guy was going to kill you, what would you do?”

  “Oh,” Prue said. “Sorry, right. He’d think you’re nuts.”

  “Well, he’s probably going to still think I’m nuts,” Kate replied. Finally, she was on the right street. She started checking house numbers. “But they seem pretty confident this is the same guy who sold his soul, so maybe this won’t come as a complete surprise. Hopefully he’ll see that nobody could make a face like this and not be serious. I’ll just get it done, and then grab a train the hell out of Dodge.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you at the station,” Prue said. “I’d have gone with you if you wanted. Hell, you can tell me where you are, and I’ll grab a cab. I don’t like you alone out there with all this going on.”

  “I know,” Kate said. And it meant a lot. “But I’m almost there, and it should take me five minutes. I’ll see you soon.”

  Prue sighed. “Love you. Be careful, chica.”

  “Love you, too,” Kate said, then hung up, just as she arrived at his walkway.

  The house was nice, she realized, with a bigger than average yard, and a style that was a little more sumptuous than the surrounding houses justified. It looked like an older building that had been remodeled and improved on. Like a McMansion on steroids.

  She walked carefully, trying to concoct some cover story that would justify her being there. But how exactly d
id you lead up to, Say, I think the guy I used to work for is going to kill you?

  She sighed. This was so, so going to suck.

  She knocked. There wasn’t an immediate answer, although there was a car in the driveway.

  Please be home, she begged. If she had to come back, she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to make it—and Thomas would probably hunt her down. She felt anxiety like prickles across her skin.

  The door opened slowly, and a leathery looking older man stared back at her, with a small, goofy smile of apology. “I’m sorry my dear, it takes a bit longer to get to the door than it used to.”

  She smiled, even though she was pretty sure she looked sickly doing it. “Absolutely no problem. Um, are you Mr. Klauss?”

  She waited, but he seemed to be staring at her, rapt. She wondered if he had some kind of dementia. This thing just got worse and worse.

  “Mr. Klauss?” she repeated.

  He shook himself. “I’m sorry, but… is that your natural hair color? It’s gorgeous,” he enthused, then winked at her. “I have a thing for pretty young redheads.”

  “Absolutely all mine,” she said, feeling a little tension leach out.

  “Isn’t that amazing. And here you are on my doorstep,” he said. “What can I do for you, young lady?”

  She blinked at him. Given what Slim had told her about the power base, this old guy had signed on to be a human shield. Thomas would kill someone like this? This slow little geezer, who looked like a good strong gust would blow him over?

  “I, uh…” She cleared her throat. “You know what? I’ve got a really weird story, and you’re probably going to think I’m crazy, but I have to talk to you. I won’t take up too much of your time.”

  “You don’t look crazy, dear,” he reassured her, his voice soothing. “And as it happens, I don’t get a lot of entertainment. I love stories, even weird ones, and I can’t imagine a prettier storyteller to pass the afternoon with. Why don’t you come in, and tell me all about it?”

  He’s a sweetheart, she thought, and stepped in. The house smelled like old man—a little musty, with hints of cedar and cologne. He shuffled next to her, taking her down the hallway to the living room in the back of the house. She sat on the couch, waiting for him to sit next to her.