The Devil Makes Three (12 page)

“Look, it’s up to you. You can stay or you can go. But if you go it should be because you don’t want to come in. Not because something else holds you back. And what’s so big about going into my apartment anyway? An invitation to my living room isn’t an invitation anywhere else.” Unless, of course, I have your envelope under my pillow.

He continued to stare.

“It’s not like I’m going to nark on you. And the plows may come by in ten minutes, anyway.”

His stare broke into a wry smile. “You live alone?”

“Yeah. I like privacy.”

He looked back to the parking lot. Putting the car in gear he drove forward and parked in my spot.

The isolation of the elevator made my heart pound in my chest, though I couldn’t figure out why it should be any different than in his car. Perhaps our destination, looming before me like some grinning, diabolical clown, taunting me with my insecurities had something to do with it.

Getting out of the elevator proved no better. He followed me down the hall to my door and stood beside me as I fished my keys from my bag.

“Did you know there’s a cat living in your hallway?” he asked, distracting me from my task at hand.

Looking over, I found Hawkeye sitting a few feet away, staring at us warily. “He’s my cat. He likes to escape when I’m not looking and terrorize the plant life next to the elevator.

“I see.”

“You don’t like cats?” I asked, finally locating my keys and beginning to unlock the door. My heart seemed to slow, waiting for his response.

“I don’t mind cats,” he said in a non-committal manner.

Unlocking the last deadbolt, I breathed deeply then thrust the door open and stepped inside. It wasn’t particularly clean, but it wasn’t dirty either. Hawkeye sauntered past both of us and jumped up on the armchair, immediately taking up his sleeping position. The heater blazed away, warming the air to a balmy 76 degrees. It felt homey to me, but when viewed with a critical eye seemed vapid. The center of attention in the living room was the entertainment center, flanked on both sides by bookshelves covered with DVDs, CDs and books. I had no art, no decoration and nothing that particularly said home except for my sister’s picture on the desk by the door. All in all, I couldn’t imagine what he thought of it.

“Come on in. I’m going to see if I have any food.”

When I came back from the kitchen he stood at the bookshelf eyeing my DVDs. “You’re a movie girl.”

I shrugged. “It passes the time.”

“I also see you’re a M*A*S*H fan.” He pointed to my complete series.

“Yeah well, its hours of brainless diversion and serves as background noise for other things.”

“I think after our drive here we need some brainless diversion. Or background noise for something else.”

I agreed casually and pointed back to the kitchen. “My fridge is empty. How do you feel about Chinese? There’s a place just around the corner that delivers.”

#

The snow continued to fall. As the hours and countless M*A*S*H episodes passed our attention waned and exhaustion set in. When the last episode on the disc finished, neither one of us got up to change it. Instead, he slouched down on the couch and leaned into me slightly.

“Well that was good for avoiding uncomfortable conversation while we ate, but I think the time has come.”

“For uncomfortable conversation?”

“Maybe not uncomfortable, but at least necessary.”

“What do you want to discuss?” I trailed my fingers over the couch cushion, pretending to be entranced at the texture.

“How comfortable I feel on your couch and how deep the snow has gotten outside.”

I glanced out my window, taking the moment to breathe deep. It wasn’t what I had expected, but could eventually get around to the topic I feared. “It is a good couch. And the snow is deep. That delivery boy earned every penny of his tip.” I turned back to find his intense gaze on me. “Would you like to crash here?”

“If I did, would that be wrong?”

“By whose standards?” I smiled at him and he chuckled. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed me. It happened so suddenly that it took a moment for the proper response to kick in. But only a moment.

#

My lips felt raw and the memory of his hands all over me was still fresh in my mind as I stood at the window, hours later, wondering how I came to be alone and how the hell I had gotten myself into this mess.

It had happened so quickly it had a surreal quality to it. One second we writhed on the couch in a state of burning passion and the next minute he spouted some gibberish about responsibility and justification, then made for the door like the devil was on his heels.

I felt used. What’s worse, I felt stupid. Why? What had ever made me think getting involved with him was a good idea? Of course, I knew what it was. His stellar body combined with that debonair personality and intelligence muddied the waters in my head and heated the blood in my veins.

Damn him.

I had now engaged in an act of physical intimacy with a guy I suspected to be absolutely crazy. This thought was followed by a group of emotions I really didn’t want to examine, but couldn’t ignore. Hence the reason I stood at the window, staring at the tracks his car had left behind.

Apparently I was a lot scarier than record breaking bad weather. 

Leaning against the glass, my breath fogged the window. The snow sat, piled to at least a foot on the roads and parking lot. The poor fool would be lucky if he made it home alive, let alone tonight. No cars dared to navigate the road. The only lights were the lonely pools below streetlamps, illuminating the still raging blizzard.

Why had he left? Did I not meet his standards? I found it hard to believe that one body housing three people at the very least could be so picky about a companion.

Beams of light flashed across the snowy parking lot, glaring against my window, as a lone vehicle, a monstrous SUV, pulled into the lot and lingered near the covered spaces. A moment later it pulled up to the front door of my building. The lights flashed off and in the distance I heard a car door slam.

Who would be out and about at a time like this? Other than the commitment-phobics anyway.

Turning away from the window I started a new episode of M*A*S*H then wandered into the kitchen. I pulled the leftover Chinese food from the fridge and jumped up on the counter, to sit. Cold Kung Pao isn’t the best taste in the world, but it was better than tasting Collin for the rest of the night and I didn’t really feel like brushing my teeth at the moment. Spearing a piece of chicken with my fork I fought back tears, wondering how I could have let myself get so befuddled, wondering how I could possibly get this worked up over a crackpot.

“Temptress, are you crying again?”

I looked up to find myself face to face with Corbin. His expression looked wry, bordering on derisive and it pissed me off. Shifting the cardboard takeout box in my hand, I launched it across the room at him, causing him to duck and dodge into the bathroom to avoid a direct hit. When he emerged he stared at me cautiously.

“I’m going to assume you know someone used your parking space very recently. I’m going to go so far as to assume you know who it was. I’m even going to go out on a limb here and guess that you didn’t want him to go.”

“I hate you!” I screamed, dropping off the counter and crossing the room in quick steps. Before I could even register what I did, he had me pinned against the wall, his chin probably stinging just as much as my fist, from an enraged right hook that landed on his perfect face.

“Easy!” he exclaimed, pressing his body against mine. “You’re going to bust a blood vessel or something. Just relax, okay?”

“You’re a bastard. You’re all bastards!”

“What did I do?” he demanded, maintaining his hold on me. Much to my dismay, I had to cling to fury to keep from collapsing against him in a fit of despondency.

“You’re all alike,” I said, not quite reaching angry, instead sounding on the verge of tears. “I can hardly expect anything better from you than from him.”

For a moment I thought he would argue with me. His expression conveyed distaste at getting lumped into the same category as anyone else on the planet. But his expression softened as I continued to stare. His body relaxed against me, pulling me into his arms, rather than restraining me. “Did you find out the unhappy truth?” he asked. A dangerous glint sparked in his eyes and his breathing came in long, measured breaths, as if he forced himself to remain calm.

“Which one?” There seemed so many at this point I required clarification as to what he referred.

“Temptress, that to him you could never be more than another notch in his bedpost.”

I stared, all emotion seeping from me. Exhaustion set in and I lolled against the wall, like a doll. If he had not held me up, I would have laid in a puddle of humiliation on the floor.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, after a moment of emptiness.

“I was thinking about mental health and debating its importance.”

“Why?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know. Just something to think about, I guess.”

He scooped me up into his arms and took me to my bed, dropping me unceremoniously on the comforter. Bending over me, he brushed my hair out of my eyes. “Don’t let him get you down. You’ve got to learn how to deal with people like him. You and me: we’re dishonest and we know it. We know it about ourselves and about each other. But that’s not the way it is with him. He doesn’t know he’s dishonest. He thinks he’s God’s gift to humanity, women, criminology and just about anything else you can think of. You can’t expect to have something real with someone who isn’t.”

It seemed a bit ironic, for Corbin to give me this lecture. After all, in essence, he talked about himself. But then, he probably didn’t know he talked about himself. Or did he?

“Are you sane?” I blurted out as I rubbed my forehead to stem back a growing headache.

“I’m as sane as they come, Temptress. Trust me.”

“But you just said you were dishonest.”

“Of course I did. But there are lots of different kinds of dishonesty. And I want you to trust me anyway.”

I considered him. I considered him and me. I considered Collin and him. None of it looked good.

“Your envelope is in my hoodie pocket by the door,” I said, pushing him away.

He nodded and pulled an envelope from his pocket, tossing it on the bed. “Your payment. And then there’s this.” He pulled a box from the inner pocket of his duster and laid it by my head. It was a flat, square, white box, tied shut with a thick red ribbon.

“What is it?” I asked, rolling over, to eye it closer. It wasn’t ticking, so I figured it was fairly safe.

“You’ll have to open it to find out. But I’d prefer if you waited until you were in a better mood. We don’t want any accidents, now do we?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I would miss you.”

Ominous.

He straightened up and took a step towards the door. “I’ll get out of your hair. You look like you could use some rest.”

“When… when will I see you again?” I sat up on my elbow. For some unexplainable reason I was assuaged by the fear that if I let him leave, he wouldn’t come back.

He smiled and sighed. “Well, I was wondering if you wanted to do a bit more for me, but perhaps your busy.”

“I’m not busy. Not any more so than usual.”

“Okay. Then I’ll need you tomorrow evening. It will take a few hours.”

“That’s fine. What do I have to do?”

He smiled again, this time more suggestively. “You’ll need a dress, preferably something floor length and backless.”

“Espionage is black tie now?”

“I never said it was espionage. But it is work so bring your game face.”

“I’m not sure I’ve got one.”

“You do. I saw it the first day we met. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

He shook his head and leaned back over me, reaching under the collar of my shirt and dragging out the necklace. “Have you found any earrings to match?”

“I might have some.”

“Good. Do you need money for the dress?”

“No.”

“Then just one more thing.”

I lay back, flat against the bed, to see him better. “What?”

“If you think Collin is bad, you’d better avoid Cohen at all costs. He makes Collin look like a boy scout.”

“Cohen?”

“Yeah. You’ve met him. The FBI Agent?”

“I wasn’t familiar with his first name. But if he makes Collin look like a boy scout, what does that make you?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

And with that said, he disappeared. The sound of my front door shutting was almost muted, but not quite. Getting up from the bed, I went to the living room, intending to turn things off for the night, and put my security chain in place. Getting to the door, I found it had already been done. How he had managed it, I would probably never figure out. But one thing was certain. The man had mad skills with his hands.

Turning off the TV, I went back to the present on my bed. Untying the ribbon I pulled it off the box and flipped the lid, ready for anything, even a poisonous insect.

Inside sat a .9mm Glock and clip.

Chapter 11

In which Gretchen gets dressed up

for a night out with the living.

As I showered the next morning I came to some very important conclusions. The first was that while Collin seemed the legitimate personality, Corbin seemed the only one very much aware of the other two. The second conclusion was that Collin’s problem was probably based on some adolescent trauma, since the two other personalities bore striking resemblances to his descriptions of brothers. My third conclusion was that Agent Cade, or Cohen as Corbin had called him, seemed an extremely low-profile personality. I had only encountered him once, while Corbin came out at least weekly, if not more often. My fourth conclusion was that he had to live somewhere nearby, rather than on the other side of campus. It simply wasn’t possible he could have gotten home and back to me in such a short time if he did live so far away. He would have needed to drive at normal speeds, which would have surely resulted in his death. And yet he had switched cars and clothes. The only explanation was that he had lied about where he lived.