Hidden time, p.2
Hidden Time, page 2
My safety was his concern. A burst of warmth bloomed through me. I tried to hold back a smile by biting my lower lip, but it came through anyway as I shakily released my breath. “It’s not a problem.” My voice had a breathy quality, and I was halfway to a moan I couldn’t suppress. “I think I’m looking forward to spending some time with you.”
He gave my palm a squeeze. “Me, too.” Then, like he’d flipped a switch, he dropped my hand, cleared his throat, and frowned. “Of course, it is still a mission.”
I nodded, because if he’d said we were made of cheese and he wanted to eat me… okay, bad example. But if he’d said anything, I would’ve agreed. Period.
“Have you heard anything on the final decision about the rogues?” I asked.
Craig was an analyst. It was a decision his department made, but he shook his head. “I’ve been instructed not to speak about it by the ice queen herself.” He wasn’t privy to Cynthia’s more accommodating behavior. And then, when he leaned in, it didn’t matter. “Unofficially, it looks like it’s going to be a go. I think, probably, they’re waiting until Artie is off the injured list and back in the field.”
His eyes were big and brown, with gold flecks, and his smile was soft, but I wanted him to take my hand and hold it in his again. Since it didn’t look like it was going to happen and standing around goofy-grinning while I daydreamed was counterproductive to the woman I wanted to be, I steeled my spine. “We should get to it.” A job was a job, and I had one to do. And maybe, if I was lucky, I could figure out a way to spend a little extra one on one time with Craig.
Chapter Three
When we stepped out of the portal into last year, I glanced at Craig. For some, those not used to portaling, the inertia of it was nauseating, but if Cheesecake felt ill, there was no green pallor to indicate it.
Instead of focusing on him, I took a look at the surroundings. I recognized the building and the neighborhood. The Blue Palm Apartments were located at the edge of a higher-end part of town where Mercedes was the gross average income. But as we weren’t looking for a resident of the Blue Palm, I grumbled. Portal opening was tricky and while I never missed the town I was supposed to arrive in, I seldom got the exact area. And it wasn’t like I could whip out my phone and check Maps or Find my Friends.
I pulled out the file I’d taken notes in, flipped to the right page, and read. This traitorous whistleblower had leaked the names of operatives that had resulted in death of said operatives. So many deaths. And I wanted to take her down. I could tolerate a lot, but disloyalty was not one of those things.
Turned out we were looking for a resident of the Blue Palm. Apartment 603. Craig glanced over my shoulder. “This is the place?” When I nodded, he patted my back, then let his hand linger. “Good job.” And it might’ve felt like he’d whispered with his breath warm against the side of my throat—a pre-kiss whisper—but when I turned to look at him, he was a respectable distance away, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. “You’ve come so far, and so fast, too.”
“Time is nothing to a time witch.” It was a weak attempt at a punny joke, but he smiled, so weak must’ve been good.
Craig was one of the people who knew I’d come into the agency without any training. Without even knowing who or what I was. Most agents had been trained from the time they were children, but my mother had hidden me away with my adoptive parents. She’d come to visit on the sly and had been the best friend of my adoptive mother.
By comparison, Craig had known my mother well, and maybe out of loyalty to her, over the months I’d been an agent, he’d kept secrets for me.
His smile was slow coming but still as beautiful as anything I’d ever seen. “I’m here if you need anything.” I almost imagined his words meant something else, but I was in work mode now. I was an assassin time witch. The Rowena Hembree. And there could be only one.
I nodded like I understood, but I wouldn’t need him. I’d portaled in where I was supposed to be. I had my orders. This is what I was born to do and ogling a man—even one who looked like this one—had to wait until the work was finished.
With confidence I felt all the way to my toes, I smiled. “Don’t worry, Craig. This is what I do.”
I didn’t just walk across the street to the Blue Palm, I sashayed. And he watched. I didn’t have to turn to look to know, either. Every burning second of his gaze warmed me, upped my conviction. Rowena Hembree was on her game. Mmph!
At the call-button panel, I scoped out the information I needed to make sure it matched the paperwork in the file. There were three apartments on every floor. Eight floors. Usually places like this in a wealthy neighborhood were monitored by a doorman. This one had security buttons.
I pushed them all quickly, then stood back to wait for the click of the lock or the buzzer that said I was allowed in. When it came, I looked over my shoulder at Craig—he hadn’t moved—and waggled my eyebrows. Self-assurance was half the battle. Or so Artie said. I believed him.
Once I was inside, the rest was gravy. I walked to the elevator, pushed the button, and waited for the ding and slide of the doors. Geez. This whole place was a lesson in swanky. Marble floors, mural-painted ceilings with a Hawaiian beach scene attended by mermaids with lights strategically placed to make the whole scene appear more magical, and a waterfall grotto in the corner of the lobby.
Even the elevator was opulent with its crystal chandelier—!!!— and soft classical music. I pushed the button for the sixth floor and the doors swooped shut. The ride was fast and smooth, almost like not moving at all. I stepped out. Passed 601 and 602 then stopped outside the rounded door of 603, took a deep breath, and opened it like I owned the place.
Janet Baker didn’t know who she was dealing with. Probably didn’t know she was dealing with anyone. People like her, people who cheated the system, went one of two ways. They were either overconfident or ultra-careful. An unlocked door wasn’t careful. Ultra or otherwise.
The government had never actually said whether Janet was a spy or just some greedy traitor who could be bought by the highest bidder, only that she’d been selling information to the enemy, information that had gotten agents from various agencies killed in my timeline. Some in the field, which meant she had a pretty impressive clearance rating. And I was about to cancel her security.
I rolled my eyes at my poor catchphrase attempt—all good superheroes needed one, and time-traveling assassin witches had to be classified superheroes, right?
When a floorboard creaked under my weight, I stood statue-still, held the pose for a couple of seconds and listened for any sound which indicated I was about to be caught. Once I was sure, I carefully shut the door behind me. Soundless. But I probably could’ve hauled an elephant through the living room because a TV from what was probably the bedroom blared an action movie that funneled sound down the hallway.
I almost called out, “Oh, Janet,” but didn’t see a reason to telegraph to her that she was about to get dusted. Another mental eye-roll because I sounded like a cleaning rag in a Pledge commercial, then I resumed my creeping, thinking of the agents’ names in the file. Ryan Rosen. Dave Sinclair. Dina Ravangelo. All agents who’d been killed because of Janet’s treachery.
Once I ended her, lives would be saved, years’ worth of investigations salvaged, the balance of good and bad restored. Superhero stuff. And that was how I had to look at it. One death by my hand fed the greater good.
I peeked into her bedroom. She was sitting up, legs stretched in front of her, ankles crossed and a popcorn bowl in her lap. Without looking, she reached to the bedside table and picked up her glass of soda for a drink. I could’ve mentioned to her that it was a bit early in the day for junk consumption, but I refrained. Who was I to judge?
The file on Baker said in the original timeline Baker had already given her notice. I pulled back around the doorway. “Speak no evil, tell no lies. When truth is spoken, unblind your eyes.”
I walked into her room, as her face clouded, and she stared straight ahead.
Fred chose this moment to appear on my shoulder. I welcomed the familiar weight and smiled, nodded toward the zombie in the Hello Kitty pajamas on the bed. “Dealing with mortals is so much easier than fighting people with magic.”
Fred chuckled like I was doing stand-up. “You make a most excellent bully, Rowena.” He mispronounced my name, so it sounded like Row-in-uh instead of Row-E-nah.
I flipped him a brightly painted middle finger, then glanced back at Janet. “Where did you hide the information you’re planning to sell?”
“Flash drive. Top dresser drawer.” Her voice held a robot quality. Like telling the truth stilted her ability to speak.
I walked over, not a care in the world, and opened the drawer, shoved aside a stack of rolled socks, and pulled out a silver thumb drive on a key ring. “Sweet.” Now for the part of my day that didn’t always feel heroic, but today, it actually did. I cast the sleep spell that immediately preceded the stoppage of her heart spell, or it would’ve, but a part of me wanted her to suffer, wanted to punish her for what she’d planned to do. Or would’ve planned to do…sometimes even I didn’t get the timeline.
A little voice in my head—probably Fred—said, “You can’t do this, Rowena. You have to end it the right way.”
Of course. I knew that. It just seemed unfair to reward her when the only reason she wouldn’t be evil was that I stopped it, not because she came to her suddenly enlightened senses.
But I wasn’t the jury for her particular elevator up or down. So, I waved a finger and stopped her heart. Then waved it again, once she stopped breathing, to remove any trace of magic.
I packed a bag for her the old-fashioned way because TIME was on my side.
“Would you stop that!” Fred huffed and puffed from my shoulder instead of helping.
“Stop what?” I shooed him, and he hovered in front of my face, close enough I could see the purple rings around his pupils. He didn’t answer, and I waved him away again, but he came right back. “Stop what, you dirty little dragon?”
“With the catchphrases, already.” This time he’d gone Wahlberg Boston with his accent. I didn’t dignify his criticism with an answer, but that didn’t stop him. “You don’t got it. You ain’t even close, know ohm sayin’?”
I sighed and continued throwing clothes in her Coach-knockoff luggage. When I had most of her basic black and boring pants suits in the bag with enough underwear and socks to make it look like she’d packed in a hurry, I tossed around some drawers, yanked a few dresses off hangers, and made a general mess out of her place. I even tossed the bowl of popcorn. She hadn’t just left in a hurry, but in a big hurry.
Now, I had only to find her ID and her credentials, then I could bind the whole mess into a tiny, elaborate bundle, and get the hell out of here. Dang, I should’ve asked her before I snuffed her out. I handed Fred the flash drive. “Put this next to your case of pilsner, would you, pal?”
He stuffed the flash drive into his extra-dimensional pocket along with the purse I handed him. “Rowena.” This time he pronounced it Row-EEN-uh with an extra-long E. “Let’s make like trees and leave.”
I smiled. “Of course, but first I have to take care of this.” I waved to Janet’s now slumped body and then, like the beacon of light he’d become, Fred inspired me. Or more his dimensional pocket did. “You, my winged friend, are a most extraordinary creature.”
Fred’s smile died. “What do you want, Rowena?” Roe...weeee...nuh.
“Can you store this body and her clothes, the assorted crap I packed, in your pocket?”
Fred rolled his eyes. “I’m insulted you feel you even have to ask a superior Fae such as myself.” He pulled the tip of his wing up to blow the end and shine it on his torso. “Offt. Bring it on.”
And like the superior Fae he was, he stuffed Janet Baker, her luggage, and her handbag into his pocket along with the flash drive. Didn’t even break a sweat.
Such were the marvels of Fred, the superior in every way Fae.
Chapter Four
Fred and I made our way out of the apartment to Craig, waiting outside. The street was deserted, and even the wind had died. The lack of air movement stifled me, but I had done the job I was supposed to do, and I’d done it the way it was supposed to be done. “Mission accomplished.” I cocked a brow at Fred. Sounded like a catchphrase to me.
He shook his head. “No, Ro.”
I shrugged and turned back to Craig, to Craig’s smile, to Craig’s body. My heart thumped and my hands went damp. Along with a couple of other places.
“How did it go?”
Oh, and Craig’s voice—like warm maple syrup and I was pancakes. But I pulled it together enough to answer. “Went, you know...like clockwork.”
Fred shook his head again and sighed, but I ignored him in favor of gazing at Craig.
Not only because he was worthy of a long, hard drooly stare, but because I was sending subliminal messages with my eyes. I didn’t want him to ask what I’d done with the body. Really didn’t want him to ask but had no idea how to avoid the subject without saying I didn’t want to talk about it. Hence, the mental messages. I had plans for the body that were on a need-to-know basis. And he didn’t need to know.
“I’m glad.” He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and tilted his head then straightened and sighed. “I wish I could spend the whole day looking into your eyes, but I have so much paperwork back at the agency.” His posture was as vocal as if he’d said, “Oh, damn” but checked his watch. “I really wish…”
Oh, I wished, too. Wished. Dreamed. Fantasized. It was all wrapped in one package with beautiful eyes and full, kissable lips. One who was not only an analyst, but the head of the department, and he’d been taken from his job so he could babysit me. The smile said it didn’t bother him, but the constant checking of his watch said he did. I could’ve offered him the happy solution that we spend the day here, then portal back to the exact time we’d left, but then I got all nervous that the reason he was putting me off was that he didn’t want to hang out, not that he was busy.
“I get it.” I could be gracious. A trooper to the cause.
His smile was my reward, and it was so worth it. “I really want to see you tonight. Maybe around dinner time?” If not the voice, then the smile would’ve done me in. I couldn't have resisted him if I wanted to. “Have dinner with me tonight.” This wasn’t a question, not in tone, not in intent. Not to me anyway. To me, it was an automatic yes.
I opened my mouth, was probably a couple of seconds from embarrassing myself with my rabid enthusiasm, but behind him, a portal opened and someone—some who looked a lot like...no, it was absolutely my mother—stepped out. For a second, the timeline in my head warbled, but it straightened, and I nodded. This was a year ago. My mother—the biological one—was still alive. She looked at me. Met my gaze with one of her own and tapped the face of her watch. I grabbed Craig’s arm and checked the time on his watch—eleven—then glanced up in time for my mother to step back through her portal and vanish.
What?
“If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. It’s not like I want you to think you’re obligated. It’s just a… request.” His eyes flashed, and I snapped out of the haze because he wasn’t using the intimate just-between-us tone anymore. This one was sharper, less cordial. My silence had insulted him.
“I didn’t… I mean...” I cleared my throat and lowered my volume and pitch so as not to draw the attention of anyone—man or dog—within the fourteen surrounding counties. “I don’t think of it as an obligation.” Not at all. It was an opportunity. A break. A moment. And it belonged to me. “I want to go to dinner with you. So much.” Sometimes a little bit of over-enthusiasm didn’t hurt, especially in a situation like this one.
I wasn’t sure what expression had showed on my face when I’d seen my mother, and I had to make up for my near mental crash and burn. But seeing her firmed my resolve to follow through with the plan. I just hoped I could figure out how to make it all work. I blew out a quick breath and smiled because nothing in the world bothered Rowena Hembree, Time Traveling Assassin Witch.
“Shall we?” I nodded to the spot where we’d portaled in and opened another then waved for him to step through.
It wasn’t a ladies first type of situation since if I stepped through first, the portal would close, and he would’ve been left behind. Part of me, at least, had to remain behind him.
We came out in the portal room and Fred disappeared, not into another room or away, but just went invisible. But I didn’t care to ask why, because Craig had opened the door then turned, holding it with his hip. I’d followed him and hadn’t expected the quick halt. I bounced into his chest and his arms came around me as if I had planned it. And I couldn’t have planned it better.
His chest was warm and broad, firm in ways men from my past never had been. Instead of pushing me away, or even letting me step back, he wrapped one steadying arm around my waist and brushed the back of one finger along my jaw. I couldn’t have moved if the whole place imploded.
His eyes searched mine, then my lips as he curled his finger under my chin and urged me closer. His lips brushed against mine, soft, like a whisper or the touch of a feather, then he went for it. All in. Full lip on lip, open mouth, tongue against tongue action. I tilted my head for better access, and I didn’t give a crap who saw. Craig Ferguson was kissing me with his soft lips and commanding hold, probing tongue, body against mine.
