Chapter Twenty-nine
“Y
ou want me to what?” Georgia gaped at Gabriel.
“Eugene said you need to get Tristan to come down here. And the hellhound, too.”
“He’s a demon,” Georgia said, not believing her ears. Hadn’t he told her once that Tristan was dangerous?
“I know.” Gabriel sighed as if he didn’t think this was the best plan. “Listen, let me get Eugene. Maybe he can explain his reasoning.”
Georgia watched as Gabriel left her again in the sterile, unwelcoming break room. She looked around, her mind abuzz as it had been ever since witnessing Tristan’s conversation with Dippy.
Tristan. A demon. She couldn’t really believe it. She kept feeling that there had to be another explanation. Surely the man who’d cooked dinner with her, watched
Murder, She Wrote
with her grammy, made love to her as if she were the most precious thing he’d ever touched could not be a minion of Satan.
She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand why he’d go to the effort of treating her so well. Clearly, Finola had had no such compulsion. Until today.
Which seemed weird, too. What was going on with her? She’d been down here in the mail room. Maybe this Eugene had done something to her.
She just didn’t know. It was all too much. What she did know though, was that she felt a heaviness in her chest. Now that the shock had diminished to incredulity, she realized she felt betrayed. She’d been falling in love with Tristan.
And maybe that was why he’d been so sweet to her, so adoring. Maybe making women fall in love with him was his evil power.
But why?
She was afraid of him, but she wanted answers. And she wanted to be sure that ultimately she and her grandmother would be safe.
After a few moments, the break room door opened again, and this time Gabriel walked in with another man. He was average height, with mousy brown hair in a rather bad-looking haircut. He wasn’t unattractive, but not particularly handsome either.
But when she met his gaze, she was surprised by the vividness of his blue eyes. They reminded Georgia a bit of the bright brilliance of Tristan’s. Of course, all of Tristan was stunningly beautiful.
Still those blue eyes made her a little wary.
“Hello, Ms. Sullivan, I’m sorry we are meeting for the first time like this. I’m sure you must be very confused and scared.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, seeing no reason to pretend otherwise. “I’m pretty freaked out.”
“Understandably.” The man’s voice didn’t actually reveal that he understood. It sounded completely unemotional, which didn’t do much to reassure her about him as the head of this DIA, or about his plan.
“I’m sorry you aren’t confident that we are truly here to help you. I cannot blame you for that doubt either. But as I told Gabriel, you are the only one with the power to bring Tristan McIntyre to us.”
“Why me?” she asked, wishing someone else could deal with this, because she was scared to see him, and not just because he was a demon.
“Because you are the only one he will listen to.”
She doubted that.
“We won’t send you alone. Gabriel here will follow and watch from a distance. If anything appears to go wrong, he knows how to handle it.”
Well, if the tall blond knew how to handle it, why not just send him?
But she didn’t ask that. She didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she nodded. How weird to discover there were real demons in the world, and within just minutes of finding this out, be told you had to help bring them down.
“Okay,” she finally said, feeling a bit like one of those reluctant heroines in movies who felt no choice but to do what was asked of her, or all humanity would cease to exist.
It was hard to believe that if she didn’t get Tristan to these people—the DIA—then he would bring about the fall of society.
But apparently that was the case. A stunningly handsome metrosexual man and a fluffy white dog could be the end of them all.
“I’ll do it.”
“Thank you,” Eugene said.
She glanced at Gabriel. He just looked worried. Not exactly the huge sendoff she thought she deserved before going off to fight a demon. Or to lure a demon to a mail room.
Yeah, this plan made no sense.
Tristan glared at Dippy. He’d tried to follow Georgia. To explain. Explain what exactly, he wasn’t sure. But the damned hellhound had twined around his feet like a cat, slowing him down, until she’d disappeared through bustle of the
HOT!
offices.
“Don’t give me that look,” Dippy said with the complete lack of remorse of a cat, too.
“I needed to talk to her,” Tristan stated.
“And that is exactly what I’ve been trying to show you. You aren’t thinking you need to find her to stop her from telling the truth about us. Or to get her soul, then cast her into Hell. Or even that you have to kill her, which is probably the safest plan at this point.”
Tristan shot him a look. The hellhound had been lecturing him endlessly ever since Georgia had disappeared.
Dippy shot a look back. “No, you are more concerned with finding her to . . . what? Explain? Smooth things over? Convince her that while you are a demon, you’re not one of
those
demons?”
Tristan didn’t respond, because that was exactly what he’d planned to do. And he still would, if he could find her. He’d go to her place. She had to go back there sooner or later. She must be worried about her grammy and what a demon and a talking hellhound could potentially do to the old lady.
Of course, the idea of harming Grace made him feel ill.
He paused. When had he started worrying about the welfare of old women? When had he started trying to persuade his personal assistant that he wasn’t one of the bad guys? Sure, Georgia was more than an assistant now. She was his lover—his only lover.
That in itself was strange, but he didn’t care to think about it right now either. He told himself his interest in Georgia wasn’t a big deal. “I’m going to find her.” Tristan sidestepped the animal.
“I’m going with you,” the hellhound stated, and Tristan didn’t bother to argue with him. He didn’t care if the annoying mutt went with him or not. Tristan’s mind was on one thing and one thing only. Making sure that Georgia understood he would never harm her, and that somehow he took away that terrified alarm in her beautiful dark eyes.
How are you going to do that? he asked himself as he strode through the
HOT!
hallway toward the main reception elevators. And how are you going to make her understand without jeopardizing the work you’ve done here?
Dippy had already threatened to go to Satan, and Tristan had no doubt the four-legged snitch would. But even with that inevitability, Tristan didn’t care. He cared only about finding Georgia. Somehow. And making things right with her. Getting back the look that had always been in her eyes when she’d gazed so longingly at him before today.
He reached the elevators, receiving lots of curious stares from employees as he punched the down button.
“Are you looking for your assistant?”
Tristan turned to see who’d spoken to him. The gorgeous blond receptionist stood from behind her desk. At one time, Tristan’s libido would have surged to life at the very sight of her. But this time, when he looked at her, his only interest was in what she knew.
“Yes. Have you seen her?”
“She went down the stairwell about twenty minutes ago. Maybe half an hour.”
He nodded his thanks, not taking even the time to speak. He bolted to the stairs, with Dippy right behind him.
When he stepped through the heavy door, he paused just inside the stairwell, trying to detect any sign of Georgia.
Dippy had already started down the stairs, but stopped when he saw Tristan wasn’t following.
“She went this way,” Dippy told him, gesturing with a jerk of his furry head. “I can still smell her.”
Tristan couldn’t smell her. Her arousal he always scented, but not her fear. He couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. But he nodded and hurried after the dog.
They spiraled downward, Tristan feeling certain she must have gone to the main entrance level. Once she made her escape out to the busy streets of Manhattan, Dippy would lose track of her.
The idea depressed Tristan, causing a heavy weight on his chest.
You can go to her apartment, he told himself, except he wanted to see her now. To fix this now.
He followed the dog, not realizing right away that the hellish canine hadn’t stopped at the first floor.
“Where are you going?” he asked when he finally noticed that they’d passed the main level.
Dippy looked over his shoulder, exasperation clear in his beady dark eyes.
“She continued down here.”
Tristan hesitated a moment longer, then decided he had to trust the mutt. Why would Dippy bother to lie about this? The hellhound wanted to find her for a different reason, Tristan knew, but right now all that mattered was finding her. He could deal with the mutt after he’d seen and talked to Georgia.
He continued down, right behind the beast.
The heavy metal door opened to a sterile, gray hallway that led to the mail room.
“Are you sure—“ Tristan didn’t even get to finish his thought before one of the swinging double doors at the end of the hallway was pushed open and, to his shock, Georgia stepped through. Tristan noticed that a tall, muscular blond was behind her, but he remained in the mail room, and the door swung closed to block him from view.
Tristan didn’t think about the man or who he might be. All his thoughts, his attention, were on Georgia.
She froze when she saw him, only to glance nervously over her shoulder at the now shut door behind her. Then she looked back at him, her dark eyes enormous behind her glasses. Today her glasses frames were red to match her red baby doll dress. He loved how she coordinated her eyewear to her clothes.
“Georgia,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse. Hoarse with emotion. He didn’t love the fear in her eyes. God, he’d never hurt her.
“Tristan,” she said, her voice shaky. She was terrified. Could he blame her?
He took a step toward her, and then stopped. He didn’t want her to run again.
“I know you don’t understand what you saw,” he said, not even sure what he planned to say. He just needed to talk. He needed to keep her there. “I know this all seems incredibly bizarre.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” she said, her wide-eyed stare shifting to the dog standing by Tristan’s feet. Tristan glanced at him, too, fighting the urge to kick the little animal. He didn’t want Dippy here. The damned beast wasn’t a part of this.
But there was no getting rid of him, not right this minute. Tristan did step away from the hellhound as if that would somehow show Georgia that he wanted nothing to do with this creature.
Her eyes returned to Tristan, wary.
Tristan stopped, wishing he could just pull her into his arms.
“Georgia, you need to know that I would never, never hurt you.”
Georgia stared at him, her face ravaged by warring emotions. Tristan could see she was scared and uncertain, but he also could see she wanted to understand. That she still had feelings for him. That realization buoyed up his own overwhelmed feelings.
“Tristan,” she said, her voice still quavering, “what . . . what are you?”
He hesitated, for the first time in his whole existence ashamed of what he was. But she deserved the truth.
“I’m a demon.”
She released a shaky breath, the sound something between a cry and a disbelieving laugh.
“But I would never hurt you,” he repeated.
Behind him, a sigh sounded from Dippy. “This is all very touching, but you need to fix your mistake, Tristan.”
Tristan didn’t look at the mutt, although he wanted to shout at the hound to just shut up.
Again, Georgia’s attention was on the animal. Her pink cheeks had gone a disturbing white.
Damn it, Dippy needed to go.
“Georgia, please listen,” Tristan said, his voice sounding desperate to his own ears. But he didn’t care. This woman had become his world. He couldn’t lose her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you any of this up front, but I didn’t realize how much I would come to care for you.”
Behind him, Dippy made another noise.
“Can demons care?” Georgia asked, her own tone desperate and heartbroken.
Damn, he felt like shit. He’d never wanted her to find out about him like this. In reality, he’d never wanted her to find out at all. He knew the truth would kill all feelings she had for him.
“I do care about you. More than anyone I’ve ever met.”
She stared at him, and he could see she wanted to believe him. That encouraged him to continue.
“I am a demon, but I don’t want—”
Tristan had been about to admit that he didn’t want to be a demon. He stopped in shock. He’d always been a demon; he’d always liked being a demon—until this moment.
“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” Tristan said instead. “I want you to trust me like you did before.”
For some reason, those words seemed to affect her in a way his others hadn’t. She stared at him for a moment longer, and then straightened.
“I will trust you,” she said. “But only if you trust me.”
He studied her for a moment, and then nodded. He did trust her.
“Okay,” he agreed.
Georgia didn’t speak for a moment again. “I need you to come with me.”
A flare of warning flickered inside Tristan, but he was determined to do whatever Georgia needed him to do to make her realize she could honestly trust him.
“Okay.” He stepped toward her.
“Are you fucking crazy?” Dippy growled behind him. He darted between Tristan and Georgia, facing Tristan. “You’re going with her? Don’t you see this has to be some sort of trap?”