Skin Deep (24 page)

Sinclair returned with a beer for himself, handed her a mixed drink. He slid a key across the coffee table. Laura pocketed it without a word and nodded at her glass. “I put some lemonade in it,” he said.

She leaned back in the chair. “Thanks. How are you? Do you need Cress to do anything?”

He sat sideways, dangling his legs over the arm of the other armchair. “I’ve taken harder falls. I think I’ll pass on any more healing.”

She sipped her drink. The alcohol spread across her tongue, washing away whatever was making the sticky sensation in her mouth. “Why? Cress is an excellent healer.”

He exaggerated a shiver. “I appreciate that she took care of my ribs, but when she did it, I felt this sort of desire from her. Like a hunger. No offense if she’s a friend, but I thought it was creepy.”

“She’s a
leanansidhe
.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Really? I thought they were dangerous.”

Laura didn’t want to admit her own occasional discomfort with Cress. “They are. Not Cress, though. She has her . . . needs under control.”

He took a swig of beer. “Hmm. Yeah, that sounds convincing.” He nudged the unopened jar on the table. “What’s this?”

“For the bath. Some kind of healing agent.”

He picked it up. “I’ll drop it in. Finish your drink.”

He was out of the chair before she could protest. It was a nice gesture, she decided, and she was too tired to make an issue of it. She retrieved her duffel and pulled out her overnight tote bag, a pair of sweatpants, and a T-shirt. One night of sleeping in her clothes was enough. She bumped into Sinclair at the door to the bathroom.

“All yours,” he said, and moved away quickly.

Bubbles filled the tub. Thick towels sat on a wicker hamper, and three lit candles gave a warm glow to the room. She smiled toward the living room. Only Sinclair’s bare feet were visible, propped over the end of the couch.

She closed the bathroom door and stripped out of her clothes. They fell to the floor in a rank heap. As she slipped into the hot water, she groaned with pleasure. Cress was right. It had been a long, smelly day.

Sinclair knocked on the door. “Are you under the bubbles?”

She leaned her head back. “Yes. Thank you. Could you call me in thirty minutes in case I fall asleep?”

Sinclair opened the door.

Surprised, Laura ducked deeper into the water. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He had his beer in one hand and her drink in the other. He set hers on the edge of the tub. Closing the lid on the toilet, he sat and propped his feet on the hamper. “You forgot your drink. I freshened it for you.”

Surrounded by bubbles, hot water, glowing candles, and a strong drink, she decided to be polite instead of annoyed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He gulped some beer. “I wanted to. You saved my life today. I made you a bubble bath. Seems fair.”

She chuckled and lifted her drink. “You did warn me about the spell bomb.”

“Is it me, or was that a crazy stunt you pulled at the fire?”

She tilted her head forward and sipped, being careful not to dislodge any bubbles. “A little. Terryn wasn’t too happy about it. Sometimes you have to take risks to keep your cover.”

“You didn’t say anything to me at the drug raid, you know,” he said. Truth resonated in his words.

“That’s too bad for both of us. I can’t remember if Sanchez said anything, and someone tried to run you off the road for nothing.”

He smiled around the lip of the bottle. “Well, I did get to meet you.”

She let her head drop back against the tub again. “You seem fixated on me. You know that, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I like your vibe. I don’t feel that often.”

“I have a vibe?”

“Your essence,” he said. “Sometimes essence shapes feel right to me. When I meet someone I also think is good-looking, it’s a combination that’s hard to resist.”

She gave him a sly smile. “What if I were a guy?”

“Then I’d ask you to go bowling,” he said without missing a beat.

She laughed. “You do
not
bowl.”

He chuckled. “And you’re not a guy.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You’re sure about that?”

He drained his beer. “If you were a guy, you wouldn’t have been tugging at your tight flak jacket in the van the night of the mission. Even with a glamour.”

She flicked soap bubbles at him. “I knew you were staring!”

He flinched and grinned. “So sue me.”

She settled back again. “What’s with all the candles?”

His forehead creased. “What? Don’t you like them?”

She shifted in the water, then darted her eyes to the bubbles to make sure she was covered. “It’s not a guy thing, in my experience.”

His eyebrows went up. “You have a lot of experience with fire giants?”

Laura debated whether to be afraid he was about to announce an ability she wasn’t prepared for. “You have a fire ability?”

He took another swallow of beer. “I wish. They’re for meditation and prayer.”

“Prayer! You’re devout?”

He slowly shook his head. “I am not about to debate jotunn theology with a Celtic druidess.”

She allowed herself a snicker. “Oh, right. Fire and water.”

Silence filled the room. Sinclair sat with an amused expression as he toyed with his beer bottle. She closed her eyes. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll be out in a bit.”

Sinclair didn’t move right away, and she wondered if he were going to push the situation. Instead, she heard the hamper creak as he removed his feet, then the bathroom door close softly.

The water and Cress’s concoction soothed her tired muscles. She wondered how many more layers there were to Sinclair. She liked his look and his manner. Even his constant flirting had its appeal. He seemed almost too good to be real. Which is why you shouldn’t trust him, she thought. If she were working for Blume or Alfrey or whoever, she would do the same thing—seduce, subvert, and deceive. No, despite her attraction, Jonathan Sinclair had to remain at arms length until she knew his full story.

When she stepped out of the bathroom in her sweats and T-shirt, Sinclair was working at his laptop in the study area. He glanced at her in a distracted way, then returned to his screen. She carried her filthy clothes into the living room and stuffed them in the duffel bag. In an inside pocket of the duffel, she tucked the spell-secured case that contained her perfect stone with the Mariel glamour. She wore the stone for the Janice glamour in case she needed to activate it on a moment’s notice.

Clean and relaxed, she finally felt hungry. She went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Despite cluttered shelves, she didn’t see anything to eat as an actual meal. She checked the freezer and found two frozen dinners. “Are you hungry?” she called out.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he replied.

She slid the dinners from their boxes and popped them in the microwave. Sinclair joined her and leaned against the counter near the listening ward. Its essence faded away.

Laura leaned against the opposite counter. “We’re shifting our investigation. Janice Crawford is going on extended sick leave, and you’re taking over.”

He crossed his arms. Her eyes went to the prominent veining on his biceps. “What does that mean?” he asked.

“We want to know who Foyle talks to, where he goes, and anything that strikes you as out of the ordinary,” she said.

“You’re telling me my commanding officer is under suspicion,” he said.

She nodded. “Foyle’s been instrumental in blocking information to InterSec, and you said he pulled back teams at the fire so that the Inverni could get in. That makes him fair game.”

Sinclair rubbed at his crew cut. “I can see that. It puts me in an uncomfortable position.”

Laura snorted. “Welcome to my life.”

“Except, I have nothing to prove you’re the good guys or that I’m legitimately working for you. I’m not stupid. You could be setting me up.”

Laura watched the frozen dinners revolve in the microwave. He had a point. “What can I do to make you trust me, Jono?”

He laughed. “Call off your watchdogs. You can stay, but the tail on me has to go.”

She shook her head. “They’re protecting you.”

“Maybe. They’re also watching. If I’m going to be part of whatever this thing is that I’ve gotten tangled in, I’m going to have to survive on my own. You want trust, and so do I. Trust me to take care of myself without the spies.”

“I’ll talk to Terryn,” she said.

“Good. When you do, tell him Foyle talks to Alfie a lot.”

“His name’s Alfrey,” she said.

She hadn’t corrected him earlier. By the way Sinclair paused, she wondered if he caught it. If he did, he decided not to mention it. “He’s talked to Foyle a number of times about Triad.”

“He’s with Blume’s company?”

Sinclair shook his head. “Used to be a long time ago. They had some kind of falling-out, but Hornbeck’s been trying to get them back together. Alfrey’s consulting or something.”

“Just because Hornbeck or Foyle are involved doesn’t mean he’s a good guy.”

Sinclair frowned knowingly at her. “Oh, I definitely will keep that in mind.”

Laura reddened at the accusation. The microwave bell went off. She hit the door release. “Dinner’s ready.”

CHAPTER 24

A BENEFIT LAURA
enjoyed with staying at Sinclair’s apartment was one less glamour transition at the Guildhouse. Instead of arriving at work as Laura Blackstone and contriving excuses to Saffin for absences, she arrived as Janice Crawford and took care of business. Leaving her SWAT-team gear in the duffel, she glamoured a simple, ill-fitting suit that reflected Janice’s inattention to clothing. Within ten minutes of pulling in to the Guildhouse garage, she knocked on the door to Mariel Tate’s office suite.

Liam acknowledged her as she came in the door. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Janice Crawford. I have a ten o’clock with Mariel Tate,” she said.

Liam made a show of looking at his watch. “You’re early. She’s out of the office at the moment, but she’ll return shortly. Take a seat—there’s coffee if you want it.”

Laura took one of the leather armchairs. Since Mariel and Genda operated as outside consultants, neither tended to have large meetings. The reception area had room enough for only two or three people to sit.

Laura sorted through magazines on the low coffee table. Liam engaged in a number of sports, including skiing and rock climbing, and brought in old copies from his subscriptions. She noticed he didn’t always rip off his mailing address labels. Mariel wouldn’t like that. It made the Guild look cheap and was bad form for someone in InterSec to be so casual about personal information.

She pushed aside both the sports and business mags and found the general interest ones. Fortunately, the current editions were there, so she was able to catch up on pop culture. She planned to kill half an hour before giving up on Mariel. It was a game she had to play rarely, one glamour supposedly meeting another. Janice Crawford didn’t have much shelf life left as a persona, but given the level of investigation with the drug raid, she wanted the file to reflect a clean investigation with no questions.

She made herself a cup of coffee and settled in to read book and movie reviews. Laura read, sometimes voraciously, but did not have much time or energy to go to movies. Occasionally, she would rent one, but most films bored her. Television fared even worse on her entertainment schedule. It wasn’t the programs so much as the rampant, aggressive advertising. Having lived through several wars, she had a strong sense of the meanings of want and need. Consumer culture made her uncomfortable.

Liam answered the telephone and handled general office tasks. He had little to do for Mariel, so most calls were for Genda. Laura made a mental note for Mariel to have lunch with Genda while she was in town. Despite glaring conversational voids when they touched on their respective jobs, they found things to talk about to while away an hour or so. With not much of a social life, Laura enjoyed the company.

Genda arrived in a flutter of white hair and undulating wings. She was a Danann fairy, not a royal family member but still part of the ruling clan of the Seelie Court. She wasn’t considered powerful in the essence department, but even a low-powered Danann was formidable. She gave Laura a cursory look as she passed, then leaned in to ask Liam if he had seen Mariel.

Liam glanced at Laura. “No. She’s running late for an appointment.”

“Tell her to stop in if she has a chance.” Genda disappeared into her office without another look at Laura.

Laura checked her watch more frequently. At first she did it to mimic impatience, but after a while, she did it because she was bored and wanted to leave. The phone rang, and Liam answered it. Out of habit, Laura focused attention on his words when he dropped his voice. When people dropped their voices, it was generally something they didn’t want others to hear. “I don’t know,” he said, then, “I haven’t seen her in three days . . . She doesn’t always tell me her schedule . . . I put it back . . . No, I’m not. I’m uncomfortable about what happened . . . If it was a coincidence, then fine . . . I’ll see what I can find out. I have to go.”

He hung up and didn’t move. Curious, Laura glanced over. She didn’t think he had a girlfriend, but his tone sounded evasive and defensive. When their eyes met, he acted self-conscious, as if he had forgotten she was there. He turned to his computer.

“Excuse me, but has Ms. Tate called or anything?” she asked.

Liam continued typing without looking up again. “No. She’s usually on time. She’ll be here.”

Laura looked pointedly at her watch. “I have a doctor’s appointment that I don’t want to miss. At this point, I don’t think I’ll have time, so can I reschedule this?”

He did turn then. “Is it over at InterSec? I can have Mariel rearrange that for you.”

Liam’s intuition made sense. He facilitated the job with Foyle, so he knew she was InterSec. “Um . . . that’s kind of personal, but thanks. I’ll call Ms. Tate to reschedule.”

She left the anteroom and rode the rear elevator to the seventh floor. Entering her room through the back hallway, she shed the Janice glamour, including the outfit. Catching sight of her jeans, she rejected the idea of another plain outfit for the day. Saffin would be sure to mention it, and even more sure to be disappointed in Laura. If Laura allowed herself any indulgence, it was an expensive wardrobe for her public-relations work. She changed into a designer label, a lightweight caramel-colored pantsuit with a black-and-white horizontal-striped blouse.