by Lexi C. Foss
“Consider it my way of apologizing for being too loud.” He winked and turned toward the dining area again, bottle and glass in hand. “Can you grab some plates and napkins? We’ll need them.”
She gaped after him. How had her quiet night alone turned into a meal with a stranger who lacked boundaries?
Her phone vibrated again on the counter.
You’re late, Elizabeth. You know how I feel about tardiness.
Lizzie snorted. That was the understatement of the decade. She picked up the device and typed out a message.
Something has come up. I can’t make it.
She turned off the power and tossed the phone into the breadbox. Her mother would call incessantly for the next hour at least, and then the messages would start. Lizzie would delete them all tomorrow.
The television flickered to life in the other room.
“Seriously, no boundaries,” she grumbled as she started toward the living area. Suddenly, she thought better of it and grabbed the plates and napkins he requested—as well as her wine—and found him sprawled out on her leather couch.
“Favorite movie genre?” he asked.
She set all the items on the coffee table in front of him, folded her arms, and considered tapping her foot again. “You seem to enjoy choosing things for me, so why don’t you pick?”
He flipped to her movie history and cringed. “Chick flicks. Given all the pink decor, I should have known.”
“Romantic comedies,” she corrected, irritated. Stas liked to remark on all the rosy room accents as well, but Lizzie thought it brightened the overly modern condo. No one would ever convince her otherwise. “And that genre sounds perfect,” she added for good measure.
His disheartened expression almost pulled a smile from her. Almost.
“Hmm.” He looked her over, considering. “Okay. We’ll watch a ‘romantic comedy,’ but only if you tell me your name.”
“Oh, now you want to get to formalities? After taking over my condo?”
“I did ask earlier, and I introduced myself.” He pointed to his chest. “Jayson, remember? And you are…?” The twinkle in his gaze matched the playfulness in his voice, causing her exterior to crumble slightly.
He’s actually pretty cute.
Hot, her hormones corrected. Off-the-charts hot.
And possibly crazy, her brain pointed out.
Can’t have it all.
With a shake of her head, she finally gave in to him. “Lizzie.”
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He started surfing through the options as he added, “Most women prefer giving their name before showing up at my place half-dressed, but I think I prefer your method.”
She sputtered. “You’re one to talk, answering the door shirtless.” Yes, great comeback, Liz.
God, was it her, or had the temperature in her condo gone up ten degrees? Rather than turn on the air conditioning—something that should not be needed in late September—she walked across the room to switch on the overhead ceiling fan in an attempt to hide her discomfort.
“True, but at least I was inside my own condo.” Jayson selected a film before continuing. “You were wandering the halls with your assets on display for the neighborhood to see. Not that I’m complaining. You’re obviously gorgeous.”
Her tongue forgot how to function.
How did she even begin to reply to that?
And “gorgeous”?
Please.
Sure, she had an okay figure and her skin rarely blemished, but she was far from being anything extraordinary. Something her parents reminded her of daily. She looked nothing like them, which they considered her fault.
Familiar music started on the television as the film rolled to life. Of all the movies in her library, he’d somehow picked her favorite.
Jayson patted the cushion beside him, distracting her from analyzing that coincidence too deeply. “Come relax with me, Lizzie.”
She wanted to ask whether or not he’d showered after working out, but the jibe felt childish.
Besides, he didn’t smell all that bad. If anything, he smelled quite nice. Not that she’d noticed the underlying hint of cedar he’d introduced to her apartment or the fact that, despite having just worked out, his thick brown hair looked perfectly tousled.
Nope. She didn’t acknowledge any of those things.
With a sigh, she settled onto the cushion she’d vacated earlier and curled her legs beneath her.
“For the record, I’m only agreeing to this very bizarre dinner because you ordered from my favorite pizza place. Turning down San Dinos would be a sin, and I consider myself a good New Yorker.”
His laugh lines crinkled, suggesting he smiled often. “Whatever you say, Lizzie.”
She picked up the papers from earlier and sifted through them. Might as well get some work done in the process. Or try to, anyway.
*
I’m in.
Jayson typed the two words into his phone and hit Send while pretending to focus on the television. He’d waited until after the pizza arrived to inform the team of his progress. It seemed only fair to spend some time with the woman he had been admiring these last six weeks before having to bail.
Not that Lizzie Watkins had spoken much while pretending to work and eat. She had traded her half-eaten slice of pizza for some paperwork, but she didn’t seem to be making much progress.
She pinched her lips to the side while she focused on the same sheet of paper she had pulled out ten minutes ago. Jayson suppressed a smile.
The woman had surprised him with her fiery response earlier tonight. Lizzie came off as politely sweet during all his observations, especially when volunteering with the youth center in the Bronx. She was a female of means with a heart of gold, and Jayson found his respect for her growing every day.
But he didn’t enjoy her movie preferences.
He’d selected the boring romance because his notes indicated this to be her favorite. That’s also why he chose San Dinos. The pizza wasn’t bad, but not the best he’d tried either. Granted, his experience vastly outweighed the woman beside him, in more ways than one.
Mateo’s reply flashed on the screen. Brilliant. Engage in sixty seconds.
Jayson eyed the clock and started counting. On the minute mark, he flicked the trigger on his watch. Now the fun would begin.
He finished his wine and set it on the table before relaxing into the couch.
When he volunteered for this assignment, he hadn’t expected to enjoy it. Babysitting a spoiled rich girl sounded about as fun as spending a month in an Ichorian den. But Lizzie Watkins continued to surprise him.
Six weeks of observing her taught him a lot about her habits, gentle mannerisms, and innate innocence. The request to officially infiltrate her life came two days ago after several failures to understand Lizzie’s genetics.
She wasn’t human; that much they knew based on the CRF’s obsession. But she also didn’t appear to be an Ichorian or a fledgling and definitely not a Hydraian or a Seraphim.
Whatever she was, the CRF considered her an important asset.
Hence today’s little test.
How fast would they react to the blocking mechanism radiating from Jayson’s wrist?
Lizzie Watkins’s condo was under constant electronic surveillance, but he didn’t know how strictly the CRF monitored her or who had been assigned to her personal detail. Jayson suspected the amount had increased now that her roommate was dating a renowned Ichorian. They were very careful not to discuss anything pertinent in the condo as a result.
This experiment, however, would provide them some interesting answers.
“Are you going to eat that?” Jayson asked, nodding to her plate.
Lizzie blinked alluring brown eyes up at him. “Yes. I’m just trying to finish grading this homework.”
“What grade do you teach?” He knew the answer already but liked her voice.
“First grade,” she murmured.
“Yeah? Do
you like it?” Kids weren’t his thing, but his observations of Lizzie suggested she enjoyed mini-humans.
“Well…” She nibbled her lip again. Such a sexy little quirk, not that she seemed to realize it. “I like it so far, but it’s only my third week. I graduated with a master’s degree in education from NYU a few months ago.” All things he read about her, but they sounded far more interesting now.
“Congratulations,” he murmured, meaning it. He saw how hard she worked despite having everything handed to her on a silver platter. Lizzie Watkins was blessed with a good heart, one he knew would be devastated when she learned the truth someday. Fortunately, he wouldn’t be the one responsible for that part. He was here for information-gathering purposes only.
“What do you do for a living?” she asked. “Other than create a lot of noise and break in to your neighbors’ apartments, I mean?”
He smirked at her little jibes.
Jayson had decided the best way to establish contact with the asset was to force her to come to him, so he had thrown some weights around to grab her attention. He never in his wildest dreams imagined she would show up at his doorstep in that revealing tank top and shorts, but he harbored no complaints. The woman possessed the body of a lingerie model and the face of a goddess.
Too bad she was strictly off-limits or he would consider acquainting himself with her more intimately.
“I work in acquisitions,” he replied vaguely. His usual cover when on assignment. “It’s not very exciting.” Unless hot redheads are involved.
“I wouldn’t call teaching exciting, but I do find it rewarding,” Lizzie murmured as she swapped her paperwork for her plate. “Thank you for dinner, by the way.” Even after barging into her apartment like a Neanderthal, she still thanked him. That alone said so much about her.
“My pleasure.” And he meant it.
The phone lit up again. Jackpot. Three Sentinels en route.
Jayson slid the metal into his pocket and stood to stretch his arms over his head.
“I should probably get going.” They were only an hour into the movie, but he needed to work. “We should do this again, Red. I like spending time with you.”
She laughed. “Yeah? You don’t even know me.”
Oh, if only you knew, sweetheart. “Maybe I’d like to.”
Her humor subsided as a splash of pink brightened her cheeks. “Oh, uh… I…”
Most women jumped at the chance to follow him up on an offer like that. It intrigued him that she didn’t. Jayson knew what he had to offer both in the looks department and in bed, and she’d had more than an eyeful of his assets.
And likewise.
He cleared his throat. “We’re neighbors, and neighbors hang out. You know, as friends.”
“You’re really not from the city, are you?” She smiled and shook her head. “Where did you move from?”
He bent to lace up his tennis shoes before replying, “I’m from all over.” Considering his three-thousand-plus years on Earth, that wasn’t necessarily a lie. “But work brought me to the city.”
“Oh, okay.”
He stood upright, shoes in place. “So, dinner again? As neighborly friends?”
“Sure.” She shrugged. “Just, you know, maybe ask to come inside next time.”
His phone vibrated again. A final warning.
“What would be the fun in that?” he teased as he walked over to the door. “Make sure you lock up, Red. You never know what other crazy neighbor might barge in here and demand a pizza date.” He said it in jest but meant every word. Especially about the locking-up part. She needed to be careful, not that she understood that yet. One day, she would.
“Funny.” Her brown gaze held a touch of happiness that warmed his heart. Watching her grieve these last few weeks had been an uncomfortable experience. She hid it well in public, even within herself, but she wore the sorrow in her eyes.
If only she knew the truth.
“Anyway, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you, Red.” He gave her a salute rather than a handshake and showed himself out.
“Not if you keep calling me Red,” she retorted.
He waggled his brows. “It’ll grow on you.”
“Doubtful.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Because he couldn’t stop calling her that. She probably assumed the nickname referred to her hair, but it didn’t. Those rosy cheeks of hers had turned a delicious red after realizing her lack of attire in the hallway, and the image would remain etched into his memory for a long time.
Jayson loved women of all kinds, but a gorgeous redhead was his kryptonite. And Lizzie Watkins definitely hit the mark.
He winked at her before starting toward the stairwell. “Lock up, Lizzie,” he reminded, knowing full well she’d watched him move down the corridor. “Good night.”
She muttered something before closing her door, and he paused to listen for the latch. When he heard it, he continued his mission, heading down the stairs instead of up. He wanted to be seen leaving the building. It would coincide with the release of the electronic interference in her condo.
Jayson engaged his gift for concealing his physical appearance as he hit the lobby and strolled past the Sentinel waiting for him.
Pretending to get the mail. Could you be more conspicuous?
The CRF needed to improve their training.
Two more Sentinels stood twenty feet down the sidewalk outside, pretending to chat like old friends. Their open stances and vigilant behavior proved that to be a lie. They could have at least feigned having a smoke or something.
Jayson continued shifting his facial traits as he moved past them. He kept his stride casual while searching 79th Street for anything else out of the ordinary. The last thing he needed was to invite a hunting Ichorian to the party.
As per the Treaty of 1747, Hydraians who entered New York City did so at their own risk. Considering the place was overrun with Ichorians and home to the CRF headquarters, most of Jayson’s kind weren’t keen on paying a visit. But he could alter the perception of his physical appearance. For that reason, Luc had assigned this mission to him. The Sentinels could see and pursue him, but once he lost them, they would remember his traits differently.
Hence his ability to blend in, in a city overrun by his enemies.
He turned the corner onto Columbus Avenue and sensed the two juveniles from outside following. As much as he would enjoy killing them, he couldn’t. He needed the CRF to think the interference was a fluke and maybe send in a technician to review all the connections. Nothing more.
Jayson paused beside the American Museum of Natural History. He pretended not to see his stalkers as he stretched out each of his quads. Just going for a run, boys.
He glanced at his watch.
One hour until his rendezvous with Mateo and Tristan.
That gave Jayson twenty minutes to play.
Let’s see just how good of shape you Sentinels are really in.
He rolled his neck and shoulders, jumped up and down a few times, and took off at a light jog toward Central Park.
Game. On.
2
Bloody Good Times
Subject’s intelligence levels are above average, but sympathy for humanity is abnormally high.
—Entry Log 114.1.4-7
Friends.
Lizzie leaned against the door, considering the term as the movie continued.
She had several friends, most of whom she rarely saw anymore because of her current hermit status, but all of them were female. Stas, Cam, Kristin, and now… Jayson?
She shook her head.
What a weird evening. Most of her neighbors were friendly, but not like Jayson Masters. A hello or a wave about covered the camaraderie of the building.
“We’re neighbors, and neighbors hang out.”
Lizzie giggled. “Definitely not from here.”
She settled back into the couch and finished her slice of pizza. Her stomach hadn’t allowed her to eat much with Jayson sitti
ng so close. His presence seemed to consume the entire room, something she noticed as the evening progressed.
The man had entered as a decent-looking irritant and left as a hot-as-hell “friend.” That’s what he called this, anyway.
“He must be really lonely,” she half joked. Lizzie made friends easily, but didn’t usually befriend gorgeous men. Except for Tom, but he didn’t count.
She grimaced at the unwanted reminder, and a sense of deep longing soured her good mood. His untimely demise haunted her every thought. It didn’t help that the details of his death were classified by his employer, the damn CRF.
When she asked his father for information, he’d just given her a sad smile and said Tom died a hero overseas. No comment as to where or how, just a one-sentence story that meant nothing. Stas’s similar response firmly placed Lizzie on the outside. She didn’t even qualify as need-to-know.
The wine disappeared from her glass as she inhaled every last drop. Then she poured herself a fresh one. She took another healthy sip and cringed as someone knocked on her door.
“Seriously?” Just as the tears started, too.
The knocking turned to pounding.
Okay. She enjoyed dinner with Jayson, but he couldn’t just keep coming down here and demanding entrance into her personal space.
Her blood heated as the man jiggled her knob.
Too far.
She stomped over to the door and threw it open. “Now, you listen—Oh!” She cleared her throat. “Uh, hi, Charlie.”
“Miss Watkins,” the Sentinel replied, all business. “Sorry for the intrusion, but your father requested I stop by to check on you.”
Charlie worked for the CRF’s paramilitary unit. They specialized in saving people in complex situations all over the world and, apparently, sidelined as errand boys for her parents. She knew him reasonably well as a result.
“You mean my mother told him to send someone.” She shook her head and started toward the bread box to find her phone. Oh, her mother wasn’t so much worried as pissed. The Sentinel at her door served as a warning that Lizzie had stepped out of line by refusing to attend the gala.