“I’m always looking to grow my personal collection. I was hoping you might be interested in a lunch meeting? I’d love to talk about your inventory with you.”
“I think we can set something up. When would you like to meet?”
Paislee shook her head madly, her eyes pleading with him.
“How about next Monday? Twelve Thirty at Rico’s Bistro?”
“I will see you then Mr. Gentry.” He hung up the phone and crossed the floor to Paislee who was shaking uncontrollably.
“Paislee,” he said calmly, but she didn’t look at him. “Paislee,” he said, his voice becoming sterner.
She didn’t meet his eyes. “You can’t meet with him, Timothy. You won’t stand a chance.”
“I will be just fine.” He sat in the seat across from her. “How about you tell me the truth . I want to know exactly what happened between you and Malcolm.
She regained her composure, and the fear was replaced with anger. “Fine.”
“Fine?” he repeated.
“I’ll tell you, but I want a drink first.” She walked to the bar, and he stood to follow her.
He had a need to be near her for a moment, and she stilled when she felt him next to her. “Allow me,” he said softly and reached around her to lift the bottle of Jameson from the counter.
One look at Timothy had confirmed he was a predator, a lion lying in wait for its prey. Her question now remained, which was she? A predator like him, or his prey?
“Thanks.” She took the glass and downed it in one gulp. He refilled and followed her over to the sitting area where she took a seat on the couch, and he sat on the chair, so he faced her.
He leaned back and focused his attention on her.
Paislee fidgeted with her hands as she forced herself to face the past she was determined to block.
“When I was ten my parents died in an accident. My older brother had just turned eighteen, and he was able to legally adopt me. He worked hard, and I never sensed anything was off. He made the transition less difficult for me, but I knew it was more difficult for him. He had left his first year of college to come home and raise me and ended up working at a grocery store.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Shortly after my eleventh birthday, some men started coming around the house. They dressed nice, and they were always friendly, but Zeke started acting strangely. He wouldn’t be home when I got off the bus, he wasn’t around to help with my homework, and when he was around it felt as if he wasn’t really there.” She took another drink from her glass.
“Nearly a year later, the men came back to the house, and I was pulled from my bed.”
Timothy’s hand clenched on the now empty glass, and he heard the crack from the strength of his grip. He stood to place the glass on his desk, and Paislee lost in her story, didn’t notice.
“They brought me downstairs where Zeke was kneeling on the floor, his face bloody.” A tear slipped down her cheek, but she continued, “The man I now know as Malcolm came over and touched my face and smiled. He told Zeke ‘she will be your payment’ and Zeke fought against the man holding him and another punched him. He fell to the ground, and I screamed.
Malcolm told Zeke that if he were to call the police, they would kill me. That he was fired and that I would be better off if he just crawled into a hole and died.”
Her cheeks reddened with anger, but she leveled her eyes on Timothy’s face. “That was the last time I saw Zeke. I was in Malcolm’s possession until eight months ago when I killed two men and escaped.”
“Your brother sold you to pay a debt.”
She shook her head. “I found out later from one of Malcolm’s guards that Zeke had been targeted because of me. He was approached with a job and ended up being injected with heroin. It hooked him, and Malcolm used that to take me. I was angry at Zeke for a long time, but it was never his fault. He only wanted to provide for me.”
“How did Malcolm know you had power? Why were you targeted specifically?”
“I’m not sure. Not once did they ever talk about it when I was around. I was with him for nearly a year before I even realized I had powers.”
“How did you find that out?”
Paislee ground her teeth together. “He brought a stray dog in, a yellow lab with big brown eyes and let me play with it for a week. Then, he shot it and told me that if I wanted to, I could heal it. If not, it would die on the floor, and it would have been my fault. I was crying so hard that I could barely see, and I hugged the dog. Before I knew it, the dog was fine, and Malcolm was smiling at me.”
Timothy walked to his window and breathed deeply. Malcolm had stolen a young girl because of her magic. Magic she hadn’t even known she’d had. He had torn apart a family because of an addiction he had to power. Then he had shot a dog she had grown to love in front of her and forced her to access powers she didn’t even know she possessed.
He knew this type well, had dealt with one person or another like that for his entire life. He found himself wishing she hadn’t told him right before a lunch where he was going to be face to face with the sick bastard.
It made sense why he was being targeted now if somehow Malcolm had learned of his curse Timothy would be the best kind of acquisition: an actual living antique.
He lifted his phone to his ear. “Ashton I need you in my office.” Then he turned to Paislee. “I’m going to fill Ashton in on everything you just told me.”
“Okay.” She seemed weaker then she had before, and he imagined reliving the darkest moments of her life was taking its toll on her. It certainly did on him whenever images of his past popped into his head.
Moments later, Ashton stepped into his office. He was the only member of the staff who didn’t have to be buzzed up by Timothy himself.
“I got a phone call from Malcolm Gentry who wants to meet for lunch next week.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t see much of a way around it. At least this way I can get a feel for him and perhaps how much he actually knows about me. Not that I need to know much more about him after what Paislee told me.”
“She opened up about why he’s after her?”
Timothy had never seen Ashton Bright as angry as he was after Timothy finished filling him in on everything Paislee had told him.
“We will get this bastard, Paislee,” he growled, and to Timothy’s surprise, she walked over and wrapped her arms around his security guard.
“Thank you, Ashton.”
Jealousy eating at him, Timothy turned the conversation back to details about the lunch, and Paislee walked back over to the couch.
“I need you to do something for me,” Timothy said in a low whisper once she was out of range.
“What is it?”
“Find me everything you can on a Zeke Adams.”
Ashton’s eyebrow raised. “Husband?”
“Brother. He’s an addict so check the streets too. I want to know where this kid is.”
“You got it, boss.” Ashton turned to leave.
When Ashton left, he took a seat at his desk to do some actual work. Before the items they had on hand went to auction, their bidders would apply to attend, and Timothy personally vetted each applicant. A few times he had stopped frauds who could have turned out to be thieves scoping out the items.
He cared about his antiques as some cared about loved ones and he wanted to make sure each item would be safe even after purchase. At least on his end anyway. There were those select few who boasted about their acquisitions only to have them stolen days later.
He looked up from his computer and saw Paislee was now stretched out on the couch, cat in her lap, with a book. She made a sight in her leggings, and a light sweater and Timothy certainly couldn’t help but notice.
“This book is great,” she said when she caught him looking at her.
“Yeah, that was written by an actual witch in the eighteenth century.”
“You know I actually
started reading this book, but when I went back to finish, the woman at the library told me some arrogant rich prick had bought it.”
“I very much doubt that. Mrs. Whitten was very grateful for my generosity.”
“I’m sure she was. If any rich prick had to buy it, I’m glad it was you.”
He eyed her, amusement pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I bet. Most of your books were written by frauds.”
“Hey, I tried. Not all of us have access to old authentic stuff. I got most of my books from the public library.”
Timothy rolled his eyes. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Wish I was dude. Besides, that’s where this one came from.”
“Every now and then a good one pops up on the shelves, and don’t ever call me dude again.”
“Whatever,” she lowered her voice slightly, “Dude.”
She was a smartass but damn if she wasn’t growing on him.
* * *
The buzzer went off on Timothy’s desk, and he answered quickly, “Yes?”
“Mr. McGinley your lunch order is here.”
“Bring it up please Jess.”
“Yes, Sir.”
A few minutes later Jess stepped off the elevator with two bags of food in her hands.
“Perfect timing, I’m starved!” Paislee offered Jess a smile. “Hi, I’m Paislee.”
“Nice to meet you.” Jess returned the smile and then set the bags down on Timothy’s desk.
“Did you get yourself any food?” Paislee wondered as she searched through the bags.
“Yes, mine is right here.” She patted the second bag and turned to leave.”
“Thanks, Jess.”
‘You’re welcome, Mr. McGinley.”
“Hang on!” Paislee said and smiled again. “Why don’t you join me? Frankly, I could use a little girl time.” She had zero clue what girl time actually was, but it had been fifteen years since she’d had any girlfriends to talk to.
“I don’t want to be a bother.” She looked hesitant, and her eyes darted back to Timothy.
“If your hang up is me, I assure you I don’t mind.” Timothy smiled, and Jess relaxed.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded and started in on the Philly Cheese Steak Jess had brought him.
“Okay, I would love to. It will be much better than eating downstairs by myself.”
“Definitely, and I’m sure your company is much better than that guy.”
Jess bit back a laugh and followed Paislee over to the couch.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Paislee wondered and took a bite of her burger.
“What’s to tell?” Jess laughed nervously. “I don’t do much.”
“What do you do for fun?”
“I like to read.”
“Me too! I’m a huge romance fan.”
Jess smiled. “Me too.”
“Do you have a favorite author?” Paislee wondered.
“I actually just finished reading Mother Of Shadows by Meg Anne. It’s a romantic fantasy, and I was hooked from the first page.”
“I’ll have to check it out. I love fantasy.”
“I own it, I would be more than happy to loan it to you.”
Paislee smiled widely. “I would love that!”
They continued talking for a few minutes before the elevator opened and Ashton stepped out. He didn’t notice the two women right away, and when he did, Paislee noticed the way his eyes lit up when Jess smiled at him.
“Miss Crew.”
“Hi, Mr. Bright, enjoying your day?”
He nodded, the smile never leaving his face. “I am and you?”
“I am, made a new friend.” She gestured towards Paislee and Ashton smiled. “I see that.”
“Did you need something?” Timothy asked, bringing Ashton’s attention back to him.”
“I wanted to let you know I’m still looking for that information you asked me for, but that I think I might have found something.”
“Great, thanks, Ashton.”
He nodded and turned to leave. “Paislee, Miss Crew.”
“Bye, Ashton!” Paislee called.
“Have a good afternoon, Mr. Bright.” Jess blushed when he smiled at her and Paislee’s grin widened.
“You like him!” she exclaimed.
“What?” Jess’s eyes widened, but the blush on her cheeks gave it away.
“Why haven’t you told him? Is he single? Are you single?”
“I certainly am, and I think he is, but we work together.”
“You work in the same building, that’s not technically together.”
“Trust me, it’s better we just stay friends.” Jess smiled when Garth padded over, “Hi buddy! I didn’t know you had a cat, I love cats!” She reached down to lift the orange tabby into her lap.
So, Ashton and Jess liked each other but neither wanted to admit it, huh? Maybe she could be of some use while she was here.
Chapter 8
“So why have you been studying magic if you don’t have any yourself?”
Timothy looked up from his desk to see her sitting, legs folded, on the bed. She hadn’t changed out of her pajamas yet, and he was annoyed to see the shorts and tank she wore. Annoyed because they aroused him, and he had no business being attracted to her.
“I have my reasons.”
“Yeah, I get that, but what are they? Come on, Timothy, you know literally everything about me. Tell me something so I can figure out what the hell is going on with you?”
It was Sunday evening, and the last four days had gone fairly smooth. They had fallen into a sort of routine, and there was a strange comfort in it. He would arrive at eight every morning, she would already be up, showered, and dressed—usually, and he would go about his work while she read up on magic.
For the most part, the days were passed in silence, and how he wished she’d go back to that.
“I have to go downstairs and look at a new shipment that came in yesterday. Care to join me?”
“Seriously?” Her eyes lit up, and he instantly regretted it, because she jumped off the bed, baring her sinfully long legs.
He turned away and acted as though he needed to grab something off his desk. “Yes, but only if you change. I don’t need you distracting the guards downstairs.”
“You think I’m distracting, Mr. McGinley?” The tone of her voice had warning bells going off in his head, so he summoned all the strength he had and turned around to gaze at her nonchalantly.
“For some people, perhaps, I prefer grown women.” He turned back around and heard her disappear into the bathroom with an annoyed, “Uh-huh.” After letting out a breath, he waited for her near the elevator with his tablet.
She returned only moments later, wearing jeans, high top sneakers, and a white t-shirt. Somehow, he found her just as mouthwatering as when she’d been in the shorts.
They stepped into the elevator, and he could feel her excitement in the air. This was the first time she’d left his office since they’d gone to her apartment and he felt a pang of guilt at that.
He hated that she felt she was a prisoner here. Paislee turned and smiled at him, and the close proximity was nearly too much to bear. Thankfully, the doors opened, and they stepped onto the fourth floor.
“Woah!” she exclaimed. Crates, upon crates, stretched the entire floor and as they moved towards the back where the newest ones were, Paislee couldn’t keep her eyes from scanning each open ccontainer as they passed.
“Here.” Timothy handed her a pair of gloves, and she put them on eagerly, ready to see what it was he did and how items were authenticated. Once she was done, he handed her the tablet and showed her where she needed to input each item description and date of origin.
“This is magnificent.” She stared down at the crate he had just opened. Inside were two jeweled bracelets, each with a matching pair of earrings. “Where do they find these things?”
Timothy began to examine one of the bracelets, and she watc
hed in complete and total fascination as he handled it as though it were made of the finest china.
“It varies. These were found in a castle off the coast of Scotland. The current owners were having an estate sale and wanted to make sure these were authenticated before auction, so they could get the most out of it.”
“So, people ship their stuff here, you verify it, and then send it back?”
“Sometimes, most likely though I will make them an offer and then sell them on my own. We hold an auction once a month.”
“How can you tell if it’s real or not?”
“I start out first by verifying the materials, so in this case, gold plated copper and rubies.” He set it down and lifted one of the earrings. “Then I check the design and date the item. I can typically tell based on how an item was crafted. For instance, with the type of clasp on these bracelets, I can determine they were originally crafted in the mid-1800’s.”
“That’s amazing.”
Timothy turned to her and saw something in her eyes he’d never seen before, love. Not for him, of course, but for the items that surrounded her. She clearly didn’t mind the musty smell or the clutter. “You like antiques?”
“Oh, I love them. When I was a kid, I used to bury things in my sandbox so I could pretend I was uncovering them later. I wanted to be an archeologist who hunted for ancient artifacts.” She laughed, and it was the first time he’d heard her make such a happy sound. It did something to him that he wasn’t ready to confront.
He continued moving, going through each crate and she kept up with him. Asking questions about the items they uncovered, or about his method of dating them. He hated to say it, but she was quicker than even Jake was, and he wondered if she’d consider a job with him when this was over.
His back straightened at the thought, she’s a witch. He reminded himself when this was all over he could never see her again.
* * *
Paislee had never seen him the way she did now. Since day one, Timothy had come off as an arrogant entitled ass hole that probably built his company off the back of his father’s checkbook. She had doubted that he actually did much and had even wondered a time or two if he knew anything about antiques or just enjoyed the way they looked on his walls.
Collateral Damage: A Tethered Novel Page 6