Page 29 of Only the Devil
He sniffs, scans the street, and steps off the curb. “That’s okay Jonas. Hang with me and I’ll show you what it’s like to be surrounded by folks who care.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you’re a real teddy bear.”
He barks out a laugh. “You know Jonas, gotta hand it to you. You play it straight. It’s impressive. But I’m not buying it. Spent years with the tough bark types.”
“Tough bark? That’s an expression for too much that I’ve never heard before.”
“No, it’s not.” As a car passes, he studies it, like he’s memorizing the occupants. Once it’s gone, he turns those assessing eyes on me. “Did some jackass tell you you’re too much?”
I don’t get along with many people. My mom, the series of bosses in my twenties. My little sister basically puts up with me because I’m footing her bills. But if he wants to believe I let some guy walk over me… I quicken my pace all the same. This isn’t a conversation I want. It’s also personal and Jake’s here because Rhodes hired him.
“Darling, you’re not too much. Any guy who says that isn’t enough. For the record, you’re the kind of woman who could make a man rethink his whole no-attachments policy.”
“What’re you saying?” I’ve stopped in the middle of the sidewalk because no one has ever said anything like that to me.
“Don’t read into it, Jonas. All I’m saying is you’re brilliant, sexy, witty, and fun… You’re the whole damn enchilada. The tough bark comment, well, here’s the thing about tough bark, it usually means what’s underneath needs protection, and that’s not a bad thing because it also means what’s underneath is worth protecting.”
“Ah…” I’ve no idea where to go with that, but arrive on, “Thank you?”
“No problem, sexy.” He says it casually, but he’s scanning our surroundings like he’s expecting trouble.
Chapter 10
Jake
“Alright, Teddy Bear,” she says slowly while keeping pace at my side, and I recognize her nickname for what it is: more bark.
I’m tempted to warn her that if she keeps walking around the apartment in a short tee, she’s gonna get to see all my sides, but I stick to saying what she needs to hear. “No, not a teddy bear. But you’ve made it into a small circle I call friends in under a week. You also happen to be my assignment, which means I’ve got your six.”
I scan the street as we cross it, our footsteps echoing off the empty asphalt. The area’s dead on weekends, our voices carrying farther than they should in the urban quiet. Even the apartment building on this block seems to hold its breath, windows dark except for the occasional blue flicker of a television hanging on a wall.
Quinn said she found a businessman who owned the condo and used it to stay on trips to the area, and I’m wondering if several of the condos in the building are used as business investments for employees traveling to the region.
Most of the street level businesses close early on the weekend, their neon signs dark and silent. Closed signs behind darkened glass create an eerie tunnel effect. The bodega’s corrugated metal guard, yanked down with a loud screech I’d heard from the balcony, only adds to it. The metal surface is cool to the touch when I brush against it, and it bears the scratches and dents of a thousand hurried closings.
Somewhere off in the distance, an ambulance siren sounds. On the side streets, two empty cars claim spots and the slight scent of exhaust tinges the air, as if a city bus or truck traveled past recently.
Daisy pauses outside the apartment building, hesitating before walking into the door I’ve opened for her. “Jake, thanks. I appreciate…you know...” She waves her hand in the air like there’s something tangible she can see. “For all that.”
A summer breeze drifts, ruffling her short strands, and she pushes the flyaways back off her face. It could be the lighting, but I’d swear her eyes are misty, like she’s getting twisted over someone saying something nice.
She might feel like she’s alone, but she’s not, and as we’re standing by the elevator, I remind her of that, because it’s an important thing for people to know they’re not alone. “You know, I’m not the only one standing by you. Your buddy Rhodes, he can’t be here, but he’s making sure someone is.”
“Oh, I remember.” There’s a smile lighting her pale features, but something’s off. “You’re here for the paycheck.”
“Hold up,” I say as she steps in the elevator. “That is not fair. That’s not what I meant at all.”
“It’s okay. I get it.” But her voice has gone flat, like she’s retreating behind walls I’m just now seeing.
“Do you? Because I don’t think you do.” The elevator doors close, trapping us in this moment, and I can see her reflection in the metal doors—arms crossed, chin up, ready for a fight that I don’t want to have.
If there’s one thing that pisses me off, it’s people who will take a job that they don’t believe in, all for the money. And yeah, I get it. People take jobs all the time they don’t believe in, but in my line of work, it’s different. In my line of work, shit goes FUBAR, we kill. You gotta know you’re on the right side. If you don’t have morals, ethics, well, then what the fuck are you? A stinking storm trooper?
I feel her eyes on me, but I’m not kowtowing…
The elevator dings, and we step into the hallway in silence. I’ve probably just proved whatever point she was trying to make about people letting her down, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to apologize for having principles. Still, the way she’s walking—shoulders rigid, keeping distance between us—tells me I hit a nerve I didn’t mean to hit.
If she thinks I’m an ass, that’s fine. I’ll prove to her I’m better than whatever shadows she’s got casting shade on anyone who comes into her life.
