“But there’s so much more you can still do. All your people, they’re still loyal, they still trust you. Your name could open doors.”
“Who are you looking to contact?”
“I need some answers, Jess. You know who I work for. Whatever you’re doing is pissing off some powerful people.” Chaleen pinned him with a cold gaze. “They know you’re involved in something big. No one is buying your legless charade. I’m trying to keep you out of trouble, and watching you pretend to be an idiot for your little teenybopper is making me want to throw up.”
“Sorry, I don’t do that kind of work. And my injuries are fully documented. Whatever you’re looking for isn’t here.”
“Damn it, Jess, you don’t want to mess around with me.” Shifting suddenly from purring, Chaleen sounded as hard as nails, bringing out a protective streak in Saber she didn’t even know she had. “I’m trying to save your hide here. You’ve got some investigation going and it’s raising flags all over the place. The FBI. The CIA. I’m hearing your name everywhere. For God’s sake, something like that will get you killed.”
Saber held very still. There was actual fear in Chaleen’s voice. She might have come for information on whatever Jess was investigating, but she was genuinely concerned for his safety. Was Chaleen an assassin? Saber moved into a better position to get her away from Jess if she tried anything. Just what was Jess doing, anyway?
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Damn you, Jess. You were always so f**king closemouthed. This isn’t a game. You always think you’re playing chess instead of living real life. You’re making enemies and they’ll be coming after you.”
Chaleen definitely sounded threatening. Saber forgot about trying to get information and moved into the room. She circled Jess’s neck with her arms. “Sorry I took so long, love,” she murmured.
Chaleen glanced at her diamond-studded watch. “Did you run?” she snapped.
Saber ran her fingers through Jess’s thick, dark hair. “Pardon me?” she asked, her voice dripping with sweetness.
Chaleen gathered up her fur coat and Gucci purse. “You’re making a big mistake, Jess.” The purr was completely gone from her voice, leaving it cold and disdainful.
Jess’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t threaten me, Chaleen. Take that back to your people: you don’t want to threaten me.”
For a moment the hazel eyes glowed yellow, the unblinking stare of a dangerous cat, and then Chaleen was smiling. “You misunderstand me, I wouldn’t presume to threaten you. So nice to meet you.” She didn’t bother to look at Saber, some battle still being waged between hazel and dark brown eyes.
Saber, frightened for Jess for no reason she could think of, clutched convulsively at his biceps. Without taking his eyes from Chaleen, he reached up to cover Saber’s hand in reassurance.
“Okay,” Chaleen capitulated. “You’re out of it.”
“I hope so,” Jess replied ominously. “Saber, make some fresh coffee for us, baby. And drink a glass of orange juice.”
Reluctantly Saber allowed him to move away from her, across the room, escorting the blonde toward the front door. Jess never ordered Saber to do things like make coffee or drink orange juice. The juice, she was certain, was because of her fever. The coffee was a ploy to get her out of the way. She hesitated, worried about leaving him vulnerable to Chaleen, although he seemed to feel the issue was closed.
And she did feel lousy. Her head hurt, her body ached, and there was no doubt she needed aspirin. Muttering to herself, she ground fresh beans and obediently put on a pot of coffee.
Jess found her slumped in a chair, elbows on the table, head cradled in her hands. He glided up beside her on silent wheels. “Are you sure you should be out of bed, angel face?” he asked gently.
“Of course not,” she retorted, without looking up. “The place is being overrun by your women. Someone had to do something.”
His mouth twitched but he remained silent as he poured her a glass of orange juice and set it next to her elbow. “Drink.”
She lifted her head. “Chaleen? Is someone really named Chaleen?” Her voice held a wealth of scorn.
He tactfully refrained from pointing out she had an unusual name too.
Saber drank half the glass in a gulp. “How many more should I expect?”
“Now, honey,” he soothed, deliberately feeding the fire. “She’s very nice.”
“Some people probably thought Jack the Ripper was nice too. For heaven’s sake, Jesse, she wears dead animals.” She glared at him as if he’d slain and slaughtered the poor creatures with his own blood-soaked hands to make Chaleen darling’s coat. “You were actually the lover of a woman who wears dead animals. That’s so disgusting.”
He tugged at one of her wild curls. “She’s not that bad.”
Blue eyes shot violet sparks. “Oh yes, she was-is. Who should I expect next? Attila the Hun’s wife? You owe me for this, hot shot. I’ve probably saved you from a fate worse than death. That vamp had designs on your virtue.” She had designs on more than that, but Saber was going to have to take a little time to figure out what.
He nudged the juice a little closer to her, silently urging her to drink more. “I don’t know, Saber, it might have been fun.”
“Don’t give me that, Calhoun.” Saber raked a hand through her hair in total exasperation. “You were terrified she was going to throw herself at you and you know it. I could see it in your eyes.”
He grinned at her. “Hallucinations again. I’d better call the doc in after all.”
She rolled her eyes. “The last time your doctor was here, he insisted I get a flu shot right along with you, and look what happened. I’ve never been sick until now and what do I have-the flu.”
“Drink your juice.” This time he shoved the glass into her hand.
She sent him a smoldering glare, but when he didn’t wither, she took a sip. “Actually, I don’t blame you a bit for wanting to change the subject. If I had such poor taste in my youth, I wouldn’t want to dwell on it either,” she sniffed.
“So did you? Have bad taste I mean? In your youth?”
Instantly a shutter slammed down, laughter fading from her dancing eyes and leaving them veiled, shadowed, even haunted. Saber shrugged the question away casually, too casually. “Good juice, Jesse. Is this fresh squeezed?”