I stepped back out of reach. “What’s with the touchie-feelie routine?”
“I saw the way you looked at me in the doorway,” he said.
I felt the heat ride up my face, but I didn’t turn away this time. “If you want to come to the door looking like a Playgirl centerfold, don’t blame me for staring. But don’t make more of it than it is. You’re nice eye candy, but the fact that you’re coming on this strong isn’t flattering to either of us. Either you’re a whore, or you think I am. The first I’m willing to believe. The second I know isn’t true.” I walked up to him now, invading his space, the blush gone, leaving me pale and angry. “So back off.”
It was his turn to look uncertain. He stepped back, put the sheet into as much of a cover as it could be, and bowed. It was an old-fashioned, courtly movement, as if he’d done it before and meant it. It was a nice gesture with his hair spilling all around, but I’d seen better. Not for six months, but I had seen better.
He raised up, and his face was solemn. He looked sincere. “There are two kinds of women that hang around with men like Edward, like me, that know what we are. The first are whores, no matter how many guns they own; the second is strictly business. I call them Madonnas because they never sleep with anyone. They try to be one of the guys.” The smile played along his lips again. “Forgive me if I’m disappointed that you’re one of the guys. I’ve been here for two weeks, and I’m getting lonely.”
I shook my head. “Two weeks, poor baby.” I pushed past him and grabbed my overnight case. I looked at Edward. “Next time remind me about everybody’s little foibles.”
He raised his hand in a Boy Scout oath. “I have never seen Bernardo do that with any woman at first meeting her, I swear it.”
My eyes narrowed, but I looked into his eyes, and believed him. “How did I get the honor?”
He picked up my suitcase, and did smile. “You should have seen the look on your face when he came down the steps in the sheet.” He laughed and it was very masculine. “I’ve never seen you that embarrassed.”
Bernardo came up next to us. “I really, honestly, didn’t mean to flash you. I just don’t wear anything to bed so I threw this on.”
“Where’s Olaf?” Edward asked.
“Pouting that you’re bringing her in.”
“Great,” I said. “One of you thinks he’s a Lothario, and the other one won’t talk to me. That’s just perfect.” I turned and followed Edward toward the house.
Bernardo called from behind us. “Don’t mistake Olaf, Anita. He likes women in his bed, and he’s not nearly as particular as I am about how he gets them there. I’d be more careful of him than of me.”
“Edward,” I said.
He was just inside the door. He turned back and looked at me.
“Is Bernardo right? Is Olaf dangerous to me?”
“I can tell him about you what I told him about Donna.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
We were all still in the doorway, not quite in the house. “I told him if he touched her, I’d kill him.”
“If you come to my rescue, then he’ll never work with me, never respect me,” I said.
Edward nodded. “That’s true.”
I sighed. “I’ll handle it on my own.”
Bernardo had moved up behind me, closer than I wanted him. I used the carry-on bag to accidentally move him back a step or two. “Olaf has been in prison for rape.”
I looked at Edward and let my disbelief show on my face. “Is he serious?”
Edward just nodded. His face had gone to its usual blankness. “I told you in the car that I wouldn’t have invited him if I’d known you were coming in on this.”
“But you didn’t mention the rape conviction,” I said.
He shrugged. “I should have.”
“What else should I know about good ol’ Olaf?”
“That’s it.” He looked behind me to Bernardo. “Can you think of anything else she needs to know?”
“Only that he brags about the rape and what he did to her.”
“All right,” I said, “you’ve both made your point. I only have one question.”
Edward just looked at me expectantly. Bernardo said, “Shoot.”
“If I kill another one of your backups, do I owe you another favor?”
“Not if he deserves it.”
I dumped the bag on the doorsill. “Shit, Edward, if you keep putting me together with fucking crazies and I keep having to defend myself, I’ll be owing you favors until we’re in our graves.”
Bernardo said, “You’re serious. You really killed his last backup.”
I glanced at him. “Yeah, I’m serious. And I want permission to off Olaf if he gets out of hand, without having to owe Edward another pound of flesh.”
“Who’d you kill?” Bernardo asked.
“Harley,” Edward said.
“Shit, really?”
I walked up to Edward, invading his space, trying to read past the blank blue of his eyes. “I want permission to kill Olaf if he gets out of hand, without owing you another favor.”
“And if I don’t give it?” he asked, voice low.
“Drive me to a hotel because I’m not staying in a house with a bragging rapist if I can’t kill him.”
Edward looked at me for a long slow moment, then gave a small nod. “Done, as long as he’s in this house. Outside the house, play nice.”
I would have argued, but it was probably the best I was going to get. Edward was very protective of his backups, and since I was one of them, I could appreciate the attitude. I picked up my bag from the floor, and said, “Thank you. Now where’s my room?”
“Oh, she’s going to fit in just fine,” Bernardo said, and there was something in his voice that made me look at his face. His handsome face had thinned to a blankness, an emptiness that left his dark brown eyes like two burned holes in his face. It was as if he’d dropped his mask and let me see inside because I’d proven myself monster enough to handle it. Maybe I had. But I knew one thing: Olaf or Bernardo, either one, better not walk in their sleep.
18
THERE WAS A FIREPLACE against the far wall, but it was narrow and white, formed of the same smooth whiteness as the walls. There was an animal skull mounted over the fireplace. I would have said deer, but the skull was heavier than that and the horns long and curving. Not a deer, but something close kin, and not from this country. The narrow mantlepiece held two tusks, as in elephant tusks, and smaller animal skulls. A low white couch faced the fireplace. A large block of unpolished marble sat to one side of it with a small white china lamp on it. A small alcove above the lamp held a huge chunk of white crystal. There was a black lacquered table against the far wall between two doorways. A second larger lamp sat on the table. Two chairs sat facing each other in front of the fireplace. They had carved arms with winged lions on the arms and legs. They were black leather and looked vaguely Egyptian.
“Your room is this way,” Edward said.
“No,” I said, “I’ve waited a long time to see your home. Don’t rush me.”
“Mind if I take your luggage through to your room while you explore?”
“Help yourself,” I said.
“Gracious of you,” he said, and put an extra touch of sarcasm into his voice.
“Don’t mention it,” I said.
Edward picked up both my bags, and said, “Come on, Bernardo. You can get dressed.”
“You didn’t let us look around on our own,” Bernardo said.
“You didn’t ask.”
“It’s one of the joys of being a girl and not a guy,” I said. “If I’m curious, I just ask.”
They went through a far door, though the room was small enough that “far” was relative. There was wood to one side of the fireplace in a woven basket of pale, almost white reeds. I ran my hand down the smooth coolness of the black marble coffee table that sat nearest the fireplace. There was a black vase on the table full of what looked like either small w
ild flowers or large black-eyed-Susans-smallcap. The deep yellow gold and the brown center didn’t really match anything in the room. Even the Navajo rug that took up most of the floor was in shades of black, white, and gray. There were more flowers in an alcove between the far doorways. The alcove was large enough to be a window except it didn’t look out on anything. The flowers spilled from the opening like a mass of gold and brown water, a huge riotous bouquet.
When Edward came back into the room, without Bernardo, I was sitting on the white couch with my feet stretched out underneath the coffee table. I had my hands clasped over my stomach and was trying to picture a roaring fire and a cold winter evening. But somehow the fireplace looked too clean, too sterile.
He sat down beside me, shaking his head. “Happy?”
I nodded.
“What do you think?”
“It’s not a restful room,” I said, “and for Heaven’s sake look at all the wall space. Get some paintings.”
“I like it this way.” He had settled down on the couch beside me, feet stretched out, hands on his stomach. He was mimicking me, but even that couldn’t ruin my mood. I was going to see every room in detail before I left. I could have tried to be cool about it, but I didn’t sweat being cool with Edward. We’d moved beyond that in our strange friendship. I really wasn’t trying to play king of the hill with Edward. The fact that he was still playing the game with me just made him look silly. Though I hoped the game-playing was over for this trip.
“Maybe I’ll get you a painting for Christmas,” I said.
“We don’t buy Christmas presents for each other,” Edward said.
We were both staring at the fireplace as if visualizing that make-believe fire. “Maybe I’ll start. One of those big-eyed children or a clown on velvet.”
“I won’t hang it if I don’t like it.”
I glanced at him. “Unless it’s from Donna.”
He was very still suddenly. “Yes.”
“Donna added the flowers, didn’t she,” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“White lilies, or an orchid maybe, but not wild flowers, not in this room.”
“She thinks they brighten up the place.”
“Oh, they do,” I said.
He sighed.
“Maybe I’ll tell her how much you love those pictures of dogs playing poker and she can buy you some prints.”
“She wouldn’t believe it,” he said.
“No, but I bet I could come up with something that she would believe that you’d hate just as much.”
He stared at me. “You wouldn’t.”
“I might.”
“This sounds like the opening to blackmail. What do you want?”
I stared at him, studying that blank face. “So you’re admitting that Donna and her crew are important enough for you so that blackmail would work.”
He just looked at me with those pitiless eyes, but the blank face wasn’t enough now. There was a chink in his armor big enough to drive a truck through. “They’re hostages, Edward, if anyone ever thinks of it.”
He looked away from me, closing his eyes. “Do you really think you’re telling me something I haven’t thought about?”
“My apologies, you’re right. Like teaching your grandmother to suck eggs.”
“What?” He turned and was half-laughing.
I shrugged. “Just an old saying. It means that I’m lecturing someone who taught me what I’m lecturing about.”
“And what have I taught you?” he asked, humor dying, face turning serious.
“You can’t take all the credit. My mother’s death started the lesson early, but I learned that if you care for people, they can die. If other people know you care for someone, they can use that person against you. You ask why I don’t date humans. Hostages, Edward. My life is just too damn violent for cannon fodder to be near and dear to my heart. You taught me that.”
“And now I’ve broken the rule,” he said, voice soft.
“Yep,” I said.
“And where does that leave Richard and Jean-Claude?” he asked.
“Oh, I make you uncomfortable and now it’s my turn.”
“Just answer the question.”
I thought about it for a second, or two, then answered truthfully, because I’d spent a lot of the last six months thinking about it, about them. “Jean-Claude is so not cannon fodder. If anyone I’ve ever met knows how to take care of himself, it’s Jean-Claude. I guess you can’t be a four-hundred-year-old anything without being a survivor.”
“And Richard?” Edward was watching my face as he asked, studying me as I so often studied him, and I wondered for the first time if my face was empty more often than it was full, if I hid my emotions, my thoughts, even when I wasn’t meaning to. How can you really tell what your own face shows?
“Richard can survive a shotgun blast to the chest with nonsilver shot. Can you say the same about Donna?” It was blunt, maybe too blunt, but it was truthful.
His eyes shut down like curtains had been pulled, hiding, hiding. There was no one home. It was the face he wore when he killed sometimes, though sometimes when he killed he wore the most joyous expression I ever saw on his face.
“You told me that they huddle around your humanity. Are you saying you huddle around their monstrousness?” he asked.
I looked into that so carefully unreadable face, and nodded. “Yeah, it took me a while to realize it and longer to accept it. I’ve lost enough people in my life, Edward. I’m tired of it. The chances are very good that both the boys will outlive me.” I held up my hand before he could say it. “I know that Jean-Claude isn’t alive. Trust me. I probably know that better than you do.”
“You guys look serious. Talking about the case?” Bernardo walked into the room wearing blue jeans and nothing else. He’d tied all that hair back in a loose braid. He padded barefoot towards us, and it made my chest tight. It was one of Richard’s favorite ways to walk around the house. He only put shoes and a shirt on to go out or if company was coming over.
I watched a very handsome man walk towards me, but I wasn’t really seeing him. I was seeing Richard, missing him. I sighed and struggled to sit up straighter on the couch. Call it a hunch but I was betting that Edward didn’t have heart to heart talks with Bernardo, at least not about Donna.
Edward had also straightened. “No, we weren’t talking about the case,” he said.
Bernardo looked from one to the other of us with a smile playing on his lips. But his eyes didn’t match. He didn’t like the serious air and it not being about the case, and him not knowing what it was about. I’d have asked. Edward wouldn’t have told me, but I’d have still asked. Sometimes it was good to be a girl.
“You said you had the files on the Santa Fe cases,” I said.
Edward nodded, standing. “I’ll bring them to the dining room. Bernardo, show her the way.”
“My pleasure,” he said.
Edward said, “Treating Anita like a girl would be a mistake, Bernardo. It would piss me off to have to replace you this late in the game.” With that, Edward left through the far right door. There was a wash of night air and a buzz of insects before he closed the door behind him.
Bernardo looked at me, shaking his head. “I’ve never heard Edward talk about any woman the way he talks about you.”
I raised eyebrows at him. “Meaning?”
“Dangerous. He talks about you like you’re dangerous.” Intelligence showed in his solid brown eyes, an intelligence that had been hiding behind his good looks and charming smile. An intelligence that didn’t show when he had his monster face on. For the first time I thought that it might be a mistake to underestimate him. He was more than just a gun for hire. How much more remained to be seen.
“What, I’m supposed to say I am dangerous?”
“Are you?” he asked, still studying me with that intense expression.
I smiled at him. “Well, you get to go down the hall first.”
He
tilted his head to one side. “Why don’t we go together, side by side?”
“Because the hall’s too narrow, or am I wrong?”
“You’re not wrong, but do you really think I’ll shoot you in the back?” He spread his arms wide and turned a slow circle. “Do I look armed?” He was smiling when he faced me again, charming.
I didn’t buy it. “Unless I run my hands through all that thick hair and down your pants, I don’t know you’re unarmed.”
The smile faded a touch. “Most people don’t think about the hair.” Which meant that he did have something hidden away. If he was truly unarmed, he’d have teased and offered me a chance to search.
“It’s got to be a blade. The hair isn’t thick enough to hide a gun, not even a derringer,” I said.
He reached behind his head and drew out a slender blade that he’d woven through his hair. He held it up, then flipped it hilt to blade, back and forth, dancing it through his long slender fingers.
“Isn’t it an ethnic stereotype that you’re good with a knife?” I asked.
He laughed, but not like it was funny. He bounced the blade once more in his hand, and it made me tense. I was still standing behind the couch, but knew that if he were really good, I’d never get behind cover or draw my gun in time. He was just too damn close.
“I can cut my hair and put on a suit, but I’m still going to be an Indian to most people. If you can’t change it, might as well embrace it.” He slipped the knife back into his hair, making it look smooth and easy. I’d have had to use a mirror and even then I’d have probably cut off half my hair.
“You try to play in corporate America?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“So now you don’t do corporate stuff.”
“I still play in corporate America. I protect the suits that want flashy muscle. Something exotic to impress their friends about what a big shot they are.”
“You do the knife act on command?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“I hope it pays well,” I said.
He smiled. “It either pays well or I don’t do it. I may be their token Indian, but I’m a rich token Indian. If you’re as good as Edward thinks you are, you’d do better at bodyguard work than I do.”
Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Collection 6-10 Page 144