There I found Timothy standing on the other side of the bars. Hair perfectly gelled in a pseudo-messy coif, today he wore a silken burgundy suit with his usual tie clip. The uptight ass always looked perfectly put together. Not that I despised him, but his perfectionism gave me annoying pin-prickles in my forehead.
“How may I assist you?” I taunted with a grin, knowing that was usually his line.
Except today, instead of the usual matter of fact, down to business attitude, Timothy’s mouth with a thin slash of displeasure.
“I need you to back off,” he said without preamble.
I opened my arms to the bars separating us, wordlessly stating the obvious.
“You know what I mean,” he countered.
He hadn’t come right out and said it, no, but I was beginning to suspect. . .
“Miranda,” he clarified, raising his chin. “You need to back off.”
Timothy and I rarely got along, and part of that had to do with him thinking he could tell me what to do to fit into his tidy little boxes. I didn’t fit in boxes, I tore them to shreds until there wasn’t one left. And him getting involved in my business, intensified my dislike.
“Our arrangement isn’t your business.”
“Maybe not, but Miranda is my business.”
My hackles rose faster than a rabid dog’s. “Go on,” I dared him, my tone dangerous. My sanity suddenly slipped and slid across the thinnest of ice that separated me from violence. If there was something between these two. . .no, I couldn’t even imagine that or I’d lose all control.
“Not like that, you idiot,” he chided, instantly seeing through me. “My proclivities don’t lie there.” His dark eyes darted away as if he were thinking of someone else in particular where his proclivities did lie. But I didn’t care about that.
“Well then Thoth,” I said dryly, using his ancient name, “why don’t you spell it out for me, on account of the fact that I’m fucking crazy, and beating around the bush only compels me to want to beat you. . .with a bush.”
He gave me a curt nod. “I understand you need Miranda.”
The way he said it struck a chord deep inside me. But it wasn’t just about her killing me. Miranda was more than that. She tasted like life and hope, and looked at me like I couldn’t get away with shit. I was addicted.
Thoth went on. “But keeping her down here for extended periods of time isn’t good for either of you. Getting involved with you in any other way, isn’t good for either of you.”
I had to suppress the snarl. “And what makes you think you know what’s best for her or me, Thoth?” I demanded in open challenge.
He sniffed. “I know you are a fiery train wreck barreling toward the edge of a cliff. Miranda is my friend. I don’t want to see her trapped on your ride and plummet over with you.”
A sick feeling filled me. The imagery of what he described was far too accurate. I didn’t want to do that to her.
I had no words. No snarky comment. No hateful things to spew at him. Because he was right, and I wasn’t sure which I hated more. The fact that Timothy had a point, or that I’d not given any consideration to hurting Miranda in lieu of chasing the short-term pleasure I felt with her.
I melted back into the shadows.
Timothy took his cue and pressed the elevator button with a ping. Then he looked over his shoulder. “And if you do hurt her. I’ll make you really wish you were dead.”
I knew he meant it. And what more, the scrap of respect I had for the uptight priss rose considerably. Fuck.
ChapterTwenty-Six
THE BEAST
Even before Miranda breached my territory, I was already against the bars, bracing for the final blow. Today, she wouldn't step inside my cage. The playing cards, diminutive table and chairs had been tucked away. There would be no idle conversation or games. Just business, then she could return to her normal life, while I confronted the remainder of my death.
Miranda stood immobile. She didn’t reach for Bob.
Avoiding the allure of her breathtaking visage, I fixed my gaze just beyond her left shoulder and waited.
“No game today?” Uncertainty tinged her voice.
