Unholy Promises

by Roxy Harte

  I sigh heavily, annoyed my body responded to so little, my mind not focused on the pleasure. It was like being sideswiped and not knowing where the other car came from. I want to be forced into the moment, want to forget what day it is…and want to forget for just one moment that Luka ever existed.

  “I don’t drink too much.” I’m ready to argue now, mini-orgasm achieved and disappointment welling quick, fueled no doubt by the emotion curled just beneath my breastbone. Sex tonight was such a bad idea. God, why do I have to miss him so much still?

  “It’s like killing people, Liam, it doesn’t make me a bad person, it’s what I do. Drinking helps me cope with that fact. Don’t you ever want to forget that?”

  “That you kill people? I think it’s the sexiest thing about you.”

  “Jerk! I meant you. Don’t you ever want to forget that you kill people?”

  His answer is to kiss me, filling my mouth with his tongue to stop the discussion altogether. That’s how Liam deals with it, by not acknowledging what he does. Ever. By the level of stress he brings home, he could as easily be a butcher, baker or candlestick maker—not an assassin for WODC.

  Hovering over my mouth, he accuses, “That’s not why you were drinking tonight.”

  I panic for a millisecond, thinking he might know about the graveyard, about Luka, but no, he doesn’t. I keep my secrets better than that.

  “You’re right. A wedding should be built around love and commitment, a basis for bringing babies into the world—not a cover story for our latest mission.” My temper flares and I try to push him off, a tangle of arms and legs ensue as he wrestles me still, pinning my shoulders, to turn on the bedside lamp.

  “You want babies?”

  I’m not sure which of us is more incredulous such words would come out of my mouth.

  “No, I don’t want babies! I just think there has to be something sacred left in our society.”

  “Marry me, Eva,” Liam insists, moving slowly over me, seducing my sex with the same gentleness he has no doubt used to win over the hearts of many before me. Problem being I want rough, always rough, especially on Christmas! Only Luka has the right to be gentle. Goddamn, why is my body responding again? “Our marriage can be a sacred thing between us, even if The Agency is using us to do their will. I love you.”

  Oh God, don’t say that! “I can’t.”

  “Give me one good reason.”

  I could give you a hundred, but they would hurt your feelings. For starters… Fuck me! Pound me so goddamn hard I will still feel you inside of me a week from now! Fuck me so hard I want to claw you and bite you and scream at you…

  Instead of voicing my thoughts, I state the obvious. “You’ve mistaken what we’ve shared. Have you forgotten who I am? Yes, I’m WODC, but I really am the heiress to the Lindquist fortune.”

  “The assignment isn’t what this conversation is about.”

  “I’m not marrying you as anything other than my agent identity for the purpose of our assignment.”

  “I’d love you even if you were poor, sweetheart.”

  Stop saying you love me! “That isn’t the point and you know it.”

  “Oh, you mean the part about how your daddy and granddaddy and even great- or great-great-granddaddies came by all that money? Or the reason we’re supposedly getting married in the first place is to preserve and protect that great vastness of wealth from the families they stole it from?”

  “We did not steal that money!”

  “I don’t want to argue semantics, darling.”

  The only sound for a moment is the air blowing from the heat duct. I have to remind myself I want this wedding as much as he does, it doesn’t matter my ulterior motive is purely selfish. What concerns me is his ulterior motive, if it isn’t really for the love he professes so easily.

  “Come here.” His voice softens to a bare whisper as he pulls me into his arms. His erection butts against my thigh. “All that matters is that in this one, The Agency is doing us a favor.” Pushing my thighs apart, he enters me. “We get to be together.” Soft thrust. “And for a while, no killing people for a living.” I try to pull away but he holds me against him, pinning my hips as he pushes deeper. “No, Eva, don’t get mad. There’s no reason to get mad for me stating the truth. You kill, I kill. By taking this assignment, we get a reprieve.” Soft thrust.

  “Until what? Until they ask you or me to kill my brothers?”

  Soft thrust, soft thrust, soft thrust.

  “Would you rather it is you, or me, or a stranger who does the job? By the time it comes to that, their deaths would be a kindness and you know it.”

  I hit his chest, trying to roll him off but he only laughs at me. “Even if it’s just a day, or a week, or a month of pretend…” Thrust, thrust. “I could stand a few days on the job with no one dying.”

  Predictably, close to coming himself, Liam rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him, allowing me to take control, ride as hard as I want to. The problem being, I don’t want to because my heart is breaking. I really could use a day or two of no one dying.

  Someone is watching.

  Flying off Liam, I can’t climb out of the bed fast enough. I wipe blinding tears from my eyes and focus my internal antennae. Still there, still watching.

  “Bloody hell, Eva!”

  My eyes fly to the window. Grabbing my clothes from the floor, I quickly pull on my shirt, my pants, ridiculously tucking the hem of my shirt beneath the waistband of my pants haphazardly as I walk toward the window.

  “I can’t talk about this tonight, Liam. You just took me by surprise with the newspaper announcement.”

  “Shit!” Liam yells, wrapping his quickly cooling naked body in the sheets. “I will kill Matilda for opening her mouth.”

  Staring through the window, I see no one on the streets—no one, no foot traffic, no cars. Scanning the windows of the apartments across the road, no one is visible, even if they are watching. Same for the rooftops.

  “Don’t shift the blame to Matilda.”

  “Christ, Eva, it’s Christmas. I skipped flying home so we could spend our first Christmas together.”

  “You shouldn’t have!” I scream at him. Pacing, I can’t rid myself of the feeling that someone is watching. First at Ops, then the graveyard, now here…

  Throwing open the window, I lean all the way out, a nice, clean headshot if they want it.

  “Kill me already! Just fucking do it!” I scream.

  “What in the fuck is wrong with you, Eva?” Liam pulls me back into the flat. “We’ve been together long enough for me to know this isn’t about newspaper publicity or wedding plans. Come inside, shut the window and tell me just what in the hell happened today.”

  “Fucking nothing happened today, Liam,” I scream, slamming closed the shutters, pacing away from the window, away from him, at least as far away as the small bedroom allows. He’s never seen me like this before, so frantic. I just want to be alone. Seeing the concern in his eyes makes it all the worse. He truly has fallen in love with me.

  “I’m sorry, Liam, I have to go away, get out of here, get some air.” I’m rambling hysterically as I head into the dark hallway with him close on my heels.

  “What do you mean, go away?”

  “Not go, just air—I need air, away from here.” I grab my holster and 9mm, slinging it over my shoulder and tightening down while he tries to figure out a way of convincing me to stay. Standing so near him in the dark, I can see every thought that crosses his face, but all he can come up with is, “I love you, Eva. We can work through whatever it is.”

  It is so the wrong thing to say.

  “If you can still get a flight, go home to your family.” I give him a quick peck on the cheek before racing from the apartment.

  “Come with me, Eva.” His plea is a bare whisper but I hear him. I turn to see him standing naked in the doorway. He’s shaking, or maybe I’m shaking.

  It occurs to me as I slam the door of my Miata I have qui
te possibly gone insane.

  “He was gradually discovering the delight there is in frank kindness and companionship between a man and a woman who have no passion to hide or confess.”

  George Eliot, Middlemarch

  Chapter Six

  Garrett

  It is Christmas Eve, but for one special person in my life it is also her birthday. I always do something special, elaborate parties, tropical getaways, this year I can do neither, not with things so messed up on my home front. Hopefully Jackie will understand.

  She meets me on the corner of Kirkham and La Playa. I’ve been people watching for just a few moments when she arrives, wearing the white silk pants and ao dai that make up traditional Vietnamese attire, complete with a straw cone hat tied at her neck but hanging off her shoulders behind her. I guess my surprise at taking her to the very chic Thanh Long is not such a surprise after all. I kiss her cheek and she bends to meet my lips, having worn her typical four-inch heels, though we haven’t stood eye to eye since the summer she had a growth spurt that took her to six-four, leaving my six-one behind.

  “You look lovely, as always.”

  “Thank you, thank you! I am so excited. Please tell me we are having dinner.”

  I make a show of being confused before smiling widely. “We are having dinner.”

  She bounces on her heels and claps her hands. “I love it here! I should just move in. Or maybe they could tell me where they bought their sandstone sculptures and friezes and I could just redecorate.”

  I hold open the door for her, allowing her to sweep in with dignified drama. It is, after all, her day.

  “Don’t you just love it here?” She spins around, taking in the lavish elegance and ultrachic interpretation of serenity. “It’s so amazing.”

  “It’s lovely,” I say, telling the hostess my name.

  She presses close, her breasts brushing my chest, her wrists crossed behind my neck in a casual yet sensual hug and I recognize the gesture for what it is, one of her many practiced poses, stating to the world we are intimate. Though we are not and never have been, not when Jackie was a man and not since her change.

  She whispers loudly enough for the hostess to hear, “Thank you for bringing me here for my birthday. You must have made reservations ages ago!”

  “Happy Birthday.” I kiss her cheek, sliding my arm around her waist as we are led to our table, a small, private alcove I actually made reservations for months ago. When she sits, she sees the small, gift-wrapped box sitting beside her plate.

  “Oh Garrett! You shouldn’t have,” she exclaims, sitting down and immediately tearing at the brightly colored wrapping paper. She finds an inlaid and carved wooden jewelry box. Carefully removing the lid, she reveals the present inside—an intricate gold necklace, bracelet and earring set from Vietnam, the delicate gold links the shape of miniature willow leaves. She gasps, lifting the necklace to look at it more closely. “Oh, oh! Was it too terribly expensive? Help me put it on!”

  I walk around behind her chair to secure the necklace that sits just above her collarbones, the gold glowing against her dark skin. Sitting back down, I tell her it looks just as beautiful as I knew it would. She slides the two matching bracelets onto her right wrist before removing the earrings she wore and replacing them with the dangling gold leaves. “I feel like a princess!”

  “Wonderful, then my task is complete. We can skip dinner,” I tease.

  “Not on your life, Garrett Lawrence.” She smiles broadly, knowing I am a cur. “You will order me a house aperitif and, if you are sweet, I will let you order me a second.”

  “You want me to get you drunk for your birthday?”

  “On two drinks? Lord, I know you must be thinking about some other woman. Not to say that I’m not a dainty little thing, but I can hold my own.”

  I laugh with her. We have been friends for thirty-two years, since third grade when she was a he. We’d met when I became his knight in shining armor, some bigger kids beating the crap out of him, and I couldn’t let that happen. As the new kid in town, I might not have immediately chosen Jackie for my best friend. But that day, holding him while he cried after I’d run the bullies off, I’d known he was different, because although he was a little boy then…he could have just as easily been a girl. It took a decade for him to figure that out himself and he has been she ever since.

  When the drinks arrive, a combination of vodka and fruit juices, she takes a sip and sighs. “Oh this is heaven on Earth.” She lifts her glass toward me. “A toast to another three decades of friendship?”

  “I can agree to that.” I clink her glass with mine. “But shouldn’t I be the one making toasts in your honor? I mean, it isn’t every day a girl turns—”

  “Don’t you even whisper the words, you naughty man!” she interrupts. “A woman’s age is sacred!”

  “I was only going to say another year lovelier. I would never say out loud that you were forty!”

  She slaps her hand over my mouth. “Oh you cad!”

  “We already established that fact.”

  We are just finishing our final course, blue prawns for her and duck for me, when her cell phone rings.

  “I am so sorry,” she says, digging it out of her purse. “I’ll just turn off the ringer.” But then, seeing who it is, she tells me, “It’s Kitten.”

  I’m certain I look perplexed. “She’s supposed to be working late tonight.”

  “Does she know you are here with me?”

  “Are you kidding? She would have wanted to come and tonight was for me and you.”

  “Mmm, I love being the secret woman.” Jackie smiles, answering the phone, and within a few minutes is frowning gravely.

  “What is it?” I’m immediately worried and pull my cell phone from my slacks pocket to see if I have a missed message, finding I don’t.

  Jackie silences me by lifting her perfectly manicured finger to her highly glossed lips before pressing speaker phone. Kitten’s plea immediately becomes audible, “Please! Take me to the airport.”

  I am immediately annoyed and more than a little angry. I don’t have to ask why she wants to go the airport, but Jackie does. “What on earth are you talking about? Why do you need to go the airport?”

  Kitten sounds on the verge of hysteria. “I have to stop Lord Fyre before he ruins everything!”

  “Lord Fyre? Lord Fyre?” Jackie squeals. “Do you honestly think I would betray Garrett’s trust for the likes of that man? Are you insane? I won’t be party to this madness!”

  “Then I’ll call a taxi.” We both hear the audible click as she hangs up the phone but I am not sure who is more surprised that Kitten would hang up on Jackie.

  I sigh heavily, dialing my pilot on my own phone. I confirm it is he on the phone before asking, “Did Celia Brentwood by chance call you?” I have to hold the phone away from my ear as he swears on his mother’s grave he was just getting ready to call me and he is furious Celia put him in this position. An Irishman, his temper is terrible but I’ve never found a more loyal man. I try to offer him reassurances.

  “I’ll be there in an hour. Make her comfortable but do not take off.” I hang up and start giving my apologies to Jackie. “Do you need me to get you a taxi?”

  “No, I need you to eat birthday cake with me.”

  “You’re right. Tonight is your evening and I’m sorry Kitten has interrupted us, but cake is going to have to wait until I can get her home.”

  Jackie gasps and throws up her hands, dropping her napkin on the table in a very practiced, dramatic response. “You would leave me on my birthday? Before I even have chocolate? A woman must have chocolate on her birthday.”

  “Isn’t that a bit of a cliché, even for you? Not all women like chocolate.”

  “Hormonal women do and yesterday I got my shot…” She pauses to fan herself with a small oriental fan whisked from her small shoulder bag, surprising me yet again at her preparedness for all moments. “And I want you to know I am just bitchy enoug
h to make sure you do not leave me on my birthday until we have chocolate!” She gets louder, calling attention to our table. “The nerve of that girl.”

  I lift my hand, signaling the waiter, growling at Jackie. “I’ll stay for chocolate.”

  She smiles triumphantly. “Thank you. Besides, you need to think of a plan before you just go charging off to the airport to drag her home.”

  “I wouldn’t drag her. If she would rather be with him than me…”

  Jackie holds her hand to my forehead. “Are you feverish? Allow her to choose him over you? Who are you and what have you done with my boy?”

  I smirk. “It isn’t a competition. I understand how she feels, she’s in love with him.”

  “Oh pah! I suppose next you are going to tell me you love him too.”

  The waiter arrives at our table and I order a trio of chocolate specialties for us to share, waiting for him to clear our dinner plates and walk away before answering, “I found parts of him that are very lovable.”

  “You should both be committed.” She taps her fan on the table. “If I’ve said it once—”

  I interrupt her. “There’s no reason to say it again.”

  “Well, I am! Nothing good will come of this ménage à trois you have insisted on encouraging. Hasn’t your life gotten ten times more complicated since you’ve added that man to your happy little home?”

  “I really don’t need an ‘I told you so’ now, Jackie.”

  “I think you do, and while I’m putting in my two cents, I think you need to get a ring on that girl’s finger and a bun in the oven as soon as you can!”

  I snort on my drink. “You want me to make a baby?”

  “I did say marry the girl first,” Jackie reminds me, but it doesn’t delineate the surprise or soften the sting when she adds, “You know, if I am turning the big…” She mouths “four zero” instead of saying it out loud. “Then you are coming up right behind me.”