Elite Operatives: Demons Are Forever Part 18

* 140 *

"Sorry. We were just playin'," offered the other.

"Fine. Just go," Heather replied, her voice near panic.

Both men ran off and Chase turned to Heather.

"What just happened?" Heather asked.

"I don't know, you tell me. I was getting us some c.o.kes."

"I mean, what you just did. The way you hit them and scared them off."

Chase shrugged. "I don't respect that kind of att.i.tude."

"But...what did..." Heather looked toward where the men had disappeared into the crowd, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Do you still want that c.o.ke?" Chase asked, to change the subject.

"I, uh...sure."

Chase smiled. "You're coming with me this time. I just can't leave you anywhere."

"It's the second time you've rescued me," Heather said after they'd gotten their drinks and resumed their walk.

"It would appear so."

"I don't normally get into these situations, you know."

"You didn't get yourself into anything. They're just idiots."

"I mean, it looks worse than it is."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, it's true."

"Heather, you're a very attractive woman." Chase immediately regretted the admission and scrambled to do damage control.

"Most attractive woman get into trouble occasionally and you're no exception." Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she almost sighed with relief. Please let it be Jack. The message read, How's your date going? I'm done. "Jerk," she muttered, loud enough for Heather to hear.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes and no. I have to head back to my hotel soon. My agent decided on an impromptu meeting."

Heather looked at her suspiciously. "I understand." They drank their c.o.kes in silence until they reached the subway entrance.

* 141 *

Heather turned to her. "Well, thank you for the novel and the walk."

"I'm seeing you home."

"You really don't have to. I do this every day."

"I'm sure, but I'd feel better if I did."

"I'll be fine, Brett."

"I'm seeing you home," she repeated, more forcefully. Chase could have, and should have, let her go. She never intended to escort her back to her apartment, but she couldn't stop herself. For some reason, she needed to know Heather got back safely. She hadn't seen a woman home in too many years to remember. She never had to; they came to her for a few hours and left alone and that suited her fine. When they started down the stairs to the trains, Chase noticed Heather proceeding unusually slowly, favoring one foot. "Why are you limping?"

"My ankle. I misstepped on the heels when the jerk pushed me."Chase put her arm around Heather's waist to help take the pressure off. "Is this better?"

Heather put her arm around Chase's waist as well. "Yes, much better. Thank you."

As they stood waiting for the subway, Chase was hypersensitive to the sensation of Heather's body pressed against her own. Being this close to another woman was certainly not an unusual occurrence in her life, but with Heather it felt more foreign than familiar, infused with an uncommon sweetness. She had never walked or stood in anyone's embrace.

Heather moved her hand lower on Chase's waist and Chase s.h.i.+vered. She pulled Heather closer, and Heather rested her cheek against her shoulder. Neither said anything while they waited or during the short ride to the Village. But Heather kept close even on the train, and as soon as they got to their stop, they resumed their supportive embrace, walking slowly.

Chase allowed herself to relish the uncommon joy infusing her.

The seductive scent of Heather's perfume, her soft, flawless skin, * 142 *

and the vulnerability in her eyes were a potent combination. She wanted to keep holding and protecting Heather, and right now she didn't want to even try to understand why. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid Heather could feel it. Only when they arrived at the door to Heather's building did Chase finally release her.

"I had a... nice time." Heather grinned.

"I'm sorry about that. It really was an unsuitable adjective." Heather didn't move, and neither did she, as though both were equally reluctant to part. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Heather said, "I...thank you for delivering in person."

"The pleasure was all mine. Maybe next time I'm in town I can visit your brother." What in the h.e.l.l possessed her to say that?

Heather brightened. "You'd really do that?"

"If he wants to."

Heather smiled. "Are you kidding? I'm not even going to tell him you said that because he'll drive me crazy." Chase, completely rapt by her smile, had to force herself to end their evening. "I'd better get going." Heather unlocked the door and turned to her. "Good night, then." She lingered there, looking intently into Chase's eyes.

Chase hesitated, fighting the temptation to take that one step forward and close the distance between them. Instead, she backed away. "Good night, Heather," she said before turning to go. She didn't look back until she heard the click of the door closing-and only then to make sure Heather was safely inside.

Chase headed to the van and knocked twice, her mind busily replaying the evening and her body protesting the loss of Heather's embrace.

Jack unlocked the panel door and slid it open. "You looked so...perfect, walking arm in arm."

"Shut up."

"Frustrated much?"

"No."

"Then why do you look like you just lost your best friend?"

"You weren't around ten years ago to see what that looks like." Chase pushed Jack out of the way to get in the van.

* 143 *

"Relax, already. I just meant you look upset."

"I'm not."

"Landis, I don't know why you're so uptight about this woman, but either pay someone to get laid, and I mean soon, or see her for who she really is."

"You don't have to keep reminding me she gets paid. I'm aware."

But Jack wasn't quite done with the topic, and all trace of flippancy was gone in her parting caution. "She protects and gets paid to screw the likes of Rozsa."

* 144 *

ChaPter FiFteen.

Vatican City In antic.i.p.ation of his most important appointment of the day, perhaps the year, Emmanuel Ca.n.a.li, Dean of the College of Cardinals, changed from his usual black simar to his scarlet ca.s.sock and matching silk biretta. The ornate garments, usually reserved for ma.s.ses and other official functions, would add weight to his authority and perhaps smooth the way for a quick resolution of his urgent mission.

Normally, he met with outsiders in one of the many public rooms reserved for that purpose, but the need for secrecy necessitated that his most trusted attendant priest escort his visitor directly into the inner sanctum of the Vatican, to a suite off his opulent apartment.

It was a rare honor, but he doubted his visitor would suitably appreciate it.

"We thank you for making the long trip," Cardinal Ca.n.a.li told his guest, as he extended his hand for the customary kissing of his gold ring.

"Of course," the Broker said. "But you can put the ring away.

Rituals as such are best reserved for the G.o.d-fearing, and I haven't any religiously related phobias."

"Of course. It was not my intention to offend you."

"It's quite beautiful here."

"Indeed, the Holy See is humbling, is it not?"

* 145 *

"A sentiment for believers. I personally refrain from frivolous if not futile sentiments."

"Ah, we have an atheist amongst us," the cardinal said.

"Hardly," the Broker replied. "As a matter of fact, I'm quite positive we wors.h.i.+p the same power."

"And what power might that be?"

"The one that requires you to build fortresses such as this in order to protect it. Money."

The cardinal caressed the ornate pectoral cross that hung from a silk cord around his neck. To endure such a rare and scathing insult, both to his person and his church, required every bit of his considerable patience. "That is blasphemy."

"Is it, your...Eminence? In my opinion, the only blasphemy is the airbrushed truth you try to convey."

"His truth is the only truth."

"I'm sure that statement is meant to sound pertinent, but you understand how hollow it is when we both know it's not He or prayer that saves lives or keeps the peace."

"You don't know what you're saying," the cardinal said.

"Perhaps you need to pay better attention to that best-selling fairy tale. Even that carpenter you commemorate was bought and sold for a bag of silver."

Appalled by the Broker's flippancy toward the Holy Book and Savior, the cardinal rose and began pacing. "How dare you," he muttered, as he sought valiantly to curb his rising temper. He couldn't risk alienating this loathsome individual, no matter what insults he was called upon to suffer.

"Don't look at it as a personal failure. It's merely a business crash due to history's cyclical nature. Interests form religion, and, like the ancient Greeks, people once again need their G.o.ds to be human."

The cardinal chose his words carefully in formulating a response. He met the Broker's eyes. "I do not agree with your-"

"Of course you don't. Nevertheless, my presence here begs to differ, don't you think?" When he didn't reply, the Broker said, "Now, let's get down to business. I didn't come all this way to argue * 146 *

politics. I'm sure you have something a lot less boring and a lot more important to discuss."

The cardinal sat back down but didn't look forward to having to confront those cold, lifeless eyes again. If he had ever doubted the presence of evil, he was now sure of its existence, for before him sat the devil himself. Uneasy, he clasped his hands and willed himself to look back into those eyes. "It is a very private matter, and we will need your absolute discretion."

"Indubitably." The Broker smiled and looked very satisfied having made a point.

"We need a heart transplant to take place within the Vatican," Cardinal Ca.n.a.li said.

"Your pleas to G.o.d haven't worked, I take it." The cardinal thought the question rhetorical, but when his visitor didn't continue, it was clear he was expected to answer. "No.

I'm afraid they haven't."

"Then perhaps it is G.o.d's will that his devoted follower...

expire," the Broker suggested.

"Perhaps. But his work is not done. The world has much to benefit by his presence. G.o.d would want him to continue his work."

"Then why hasn't G.o.d listened to his prayers?"

"The Lord works in mysterious ways."