Chapter 18
John
“Oi!” Daniel pressed the intercom button for the dozenth time, filling the air with angry buzzing noises. “I need to meet with you jerkoffs. It’s fucking important.”
“You can’t keep ignoring her,” Colt texted him for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Can. Have. Will.” John wrote back
“What if it is important?”
“It’s not. She’s just sick of us ignoring her.”
John could feel Colt glaring at him but knew he wouldn’t push any harder. After the night of the fish and kissing debacle he and Seb had conceded any kind of authority when it came to Daniel. They weren’t allowed to visit her, speak with her, or take things to her. Whenever they were in the surveillance room they had to text via a free messenger app so she couldn’t hear them speak. John knew he was the Grinch Who Stole Christmas as far as they were concerned but he didn’t give a fuck. Blackstone had less than two weeks left on their contract and he’d be damned if he let their obsession with Daniel screw it up. They could have ruined everything the night Seb helped her make dinner, carrying on like a couple of jealous frat boys instead of the trained professionals they were supposed to be. He had no idea what Daniel’s angle was in seducing Seb, but he still couldn’t believe she had the nerve to kiss him on camera, like she wanted everyone to see it, like that kind of showy, slutty behavior turned her on.
You mean it turns you on? Enquired a voice that sounded suspiciously like the New Zealander he was ignoring.
“No,” he muttered.
“What?” Colt texted.
“Nothing. Just tired.”
“So go to bed.”
John shot him a sideways glance. “And have you talk to her the second I’m gone? I don’t think so.”
Daniel jabbed the intercom again. “Come on, Dead Eyes, I just need to speak to Elkin for five minutes. Can you not be a withholding arsehole and get her on the phone?”
His phone lit up with a new message from Colt. “The last time she tried to talk to me like this, she thought she was pregnant.”
“And was she pregnant?” John tapped back.
Colt didn’t reply. He gripped his phone hard enough to shatter it and John was sure he was picturing his head. A wave of tiredness swept over him and suddenly he needed to be somewhere else.
He shoved his chair back. “I’m going outside for a smoke,” he said aloud, not caring if Daniel heard him.
“Do whatever you want,” Colt replied. “I’m not your fucking wife.”
John pushed open the back door and emerged into a blazing sunset; all reds and purples and golds. After so much time staring at a blue-lit screen the natural light dazzled him. He ground his palms into his eye sockets. He needed sleep but he’d been delaying it for as long as possible. For the last week he’d been subjected to vivid disturbing dreams about death and sex and swirling black chaos.
Has it been all week? A chipper, accented voice asked. Or has it been since Seb kissed me?
“Shut up,” he mumbled and dug around for his cigarettes.
I’m pretty sure it started after Seb kissed me. I’m also pretty sure you’re trying to block out a vision. When was the last time you looked in the mirror, John?
He stuck a butt in his mouth and ignited. “Thought I told you to shut up.”
I think keeping all this energy inside yourself is why I showed up, Daniel mused. Not that I’m complaining, it’s been interesting, looking around your head. It’s fucking wild in here.
John exhaled into the darkening sky. “Great. Now can you leave me alone?”
A short pause.
Fine, but I’ll be back, and we’re definitely going to revisit that thing with me and the rope and your varsity football team.
John cringed as Daniel’s voice vanished, leaving him alone with his thoughts, miserable things that they were. He reentered the surveillance quarters, greeted by the sound of Colt’s laughter. “What’s going on?” He asked, pressing a hand to his aching forehead
Colt stood up, blocking the monitors with his body. “Nothing.”
“What is it?” John repeated, in no fucking mood for whatever it was Daniel had done.
“Alright, alright,” Colt said, was still barely holding onto his laughter. “You’re not gonna like it.”
John scanned the screens and saw the reason Colt was in stitches at once.
Daniel was in the living room, a thick black marker in her hand. She was sketching a picture on the wall. A large and incredibly accurate picture of him. Naked. His stance wide, his arms folded across his chest. She’d left an enormous white patch between his hips and there was a slogan scrawled beside it. “Circumcised or uncircumcised? Meeting or my best guess. Your choice.”
“So…” Colt said, not bothering to hiding his grin. “What are you gonna do?”
By the time he went down to Castle by the Sea Daniel had finished his portrait-sans dick and was sitting on the living room floor bouncing a rainbow superball against his likeness. She kept striking him in the chest and thighs, occasionally the head.
“Daniel,” he said.
She didn’t look up. “Dead Eyes.”
John stared at himself. In spite of everything he had to admit it was a pretty good. He looked grumpy, as though it was as uncomfortable for him to be there as it was for John to look at it. “You better enjoy the picture while you can. Colt’s out getting paint.”
“And here was me thinking all rich cunts loved art.”
“Not as much as polo.” It occurred to John that not only had she just called him a cunt, but she’d also called him a rich cunt. He’d fought people for things that were fractionally that offensive, and yet he wasn’t the least bit insulted. He was actually, in spite of himself, amused. Was it her accent that did that to him?
Daniel grinned and threw the superball, hitting him in the place where his groin should have been. It rebounded and she caught it deftly. “Where’s Seb?”
“Bed.”
“So no one’s watching, huh?”
“Thought it might be better that way,” John said easily. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”
That got her to look at him. As she examined him up and down John thought again, how bizarre her eyes were. So dark they almost seemed blue but as soon as you thought you’d identified the pigment it vanished leaving smoky, shifting gray.
“What kind of proposition,” she asked, throwing the ball.
John had had enough of the noise and motion. He stepped forward and caught it. “Let’s have a drink.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Is this a trap?”
“Why would it be a trap?”
She smirked. “That sounds like something someone trying to trap you would say. Are you going to force feed me arsenic doughnuts?”
“No. I just want to talk to you.”
She squinted at him. “While poisoning me?”
“Just say yes, Daniel, or I’m leaving.”
She shrugged and got to her feet, she was wearing bright pink leggings and a floaty black yoga top. He had no idea why the most sedentary woman he knew had such a penchant for rich housewife-style active wear. Perhaps it was just comfortable.
They headed for the kitchen, Daniel a little ahead of him “I was gonna make popcorn,” she said over her shoulder. “Want any?”
“No.” John hated popcorn; it tasted like greasy air and always got stuck in his teeth. He moved over to the liquor cabinet. More than ten grand worth of booze was waiting behind the immaculate glass panes.
“What would you like?” he asked.
“A triple sidecar with extra lemon,” Daniel said, as she pulled a package of yellow seeds, butter and a saucepan out of various cupboards.
John glared at her, knowing she was joking. He scanned the whiskey shelf and pulled out the oldest he could find, a fifty-year-old bottle of Carsebridge and poured a shot into a heavy crystal tumbler.
“Should you be drinking on the job, Mad Men?” Daniel asked.
“Should you have kissed my rookie?”
A sly smile touched the corners of Daniel’s mouth. “Touché.”
John swallowed the contents of his glass in one. The whiskey was cool on his tongue and warm in his guts. He poured another couple of fingers and closed the cabinet. “Can I ask you something?”
Daniel thumped the saucepan onto the stove and ignited a burner. “Is it ‘can I get completely munted in your house and pass out?’ Because the answer’s no.”
John held up the tumbler. “Actually it’s ‘what would happen if you drank this?’”
“Why do you want to know?” Daniel maintained a decent show of disinterest but her jaw had tightened.
“Just curious. Why don’t you throw back this shot and show me?”
She looked nauseous at the very thought. “No thanks.”
John downed his drink, the peaty buttery liquor tasted even better in victory. “So alcohol makes you sick, huh? You think Elkin would be interested to know that?”
“She probably does now you’ve said it out loud Dead Eyes,” Daniel said dryly. “Is this really what you want to do with your life? Be responsible for poisoning hippies?”
John eyed her the swell of her breasts, the alcohol already making him bold. “You don’t seem like a hippie to me.”
“Yeah, well I’m growing a bush now. So deal with that.”
John wanted to laugh. He felt it bubbling up inside him. He clenched his jaw to make it stop. “So what’s your big request?”
Daniel threw a slip of butter into the heated saucepan. “I want someone to come and fuck me.”
John almost dropped his tumbler. “What?”
“Well not someone,” Daniel continued. “A specific person. An old boyfriend of mine.”
John saw red. “I can’t believe you thought—”
“Now, before you go storming off claiming I wasted your time,” Daniel said, anticipating his words. “Elkin said Middlebend wanted to ‘cater to my needs.’” She drew sarcastic quote marks in the air. “Well this is a need that needs catering to.”
“You seriously think they’ll let you bring a stranger into a safe house?”
“Two things.” Daniel held up forked fingers. “This isn’t a safe house it’s the slammer, and they will if you tell them I need to get laid.”
She poured a stream of yellow seeds into the heated saucepan and slammed down the lid. “Now, what’s your thing?”
“We’re not done with your thing,” John said. “I’m not your fucking pimp, Schwartz.”
“Not asking you to be my pimp, Blackwood. I know a guy, he lives in LA, he’ll be happy to come out here.”
“That’s not the fucking point,” John tried to say but he was drowned out by the metallic pings coming from the saucepan.
“What was that?” Daniel shouted. “I can’t hear you.”
John scowled and walked back over to the liquor cabinet. Having three drinks in ten minutes wasn’t the most professional thing in the world but this wasn’t exactly a professional conversation.
He had to admit, as he swallowed another prickly mouthful of whiskey getting Daniel laid might not be such a bad idea. Both Colt and Seb’s crushes would die painful deaths if they had to watch that. He walked up to the counter. “So you want sex, huh?”
“Yup.” Daniel poured the puffy white seeds into a bowl and began sprinkling them with liberal amounts of salt. “Will you tell Elkin?”
“What would I get in exchange for doing that?”
Another flash of that goddamn evil smile. “You flirting with me, Blackwood?”
“No.”
She winked at him. “Sure you’re not.”
The cheeseball routine was what tipped John off. She wanted this. Badly. She was nervous that he’d leave without agreeing to call Elkin. That was good. That meant she’d listen. “I’m gonna tell you what I want now.”
“Lay it on me,” Daniel said, shoving a fistful of popcorn into her mouth.
“After this job is done, Middlebend will probably offer us the chance to stay on retainer for them—”
“Bummer.”
“—that is, if you don’t fuck it up.”
Daniel’s eyebrows contracted. “How am I stopping you from sucking corporate cock for the rest of your life?”
“By playing whatever fucked up game you’re playing with Seb and Colt.”
Daniel raised her arms. “Hey, man, I just live here.”
“You don’t ‘just live here’,” John snarled. “You’ve deliberately established connections with both of them.”
“I just talk to them. And because they’re not dead inside, like someone else I know, they talk back.”
“You’re not allowed to talk with them. Besides you’re not talking you’re…” John cast his mind around for the right word. “Flirting with them.”
Daniel laughed. “Well you should have thought about that before you started the most weirdly attractive private security firm of all time.”
“You’re not allowed to sexually harass my employees just because you think they’re attractive.”
“There’s no need to make me sound like a fucking sex predator. They’re grown men.”
John could feel his temper starting to rise. Why couldn’t she just admit she’d done wrong? Why was she so fucking stubborn? “If Elkin knew what you did to Seb—”
Daniel snorted. “She wouldn’t give a single fuck. You know why? All she cares about is me telling her what she wants to know. Until I do, she wouldn’t give a damn if I gave Seb a hand job over the salmon then ate it.”
John grimaced.
“Yeah, sorry, I took that too far, still,” she said pointing at him. “I’m not a pervert.”
But you are Dead Eyes, aren’t you, the Daniel in his head whispered, back at the worst conceivable moment. You love how rude and stubborn I am, don’t you John. The more fight the sweeter the surrender right?
John swallowed the last of whiskey, his fingers and gut now tingling with impending drunkenness. “Okay, I’ll call Elkin, I’ll propose your crazy fucking deal, even though she’ll tell you to shove it up your ass. And in exchange, you’re not gonna go near Colt or Seb again.”
“I already do that,” Daniel protested.
“I’m not done.” John jerked a thumb at the living room. “You’re gonna start acting like you’ve got some tiny amount of consideration inside your head.”
Daniel frowned. “What do you mean?”
Another man might have had difficulty saying what he had to say but not John. After all he’d once had to tell a private to stop humping his mattress and leaving stains all over his sheets.
“You’re not gonna lie around playing with yourself while you watch porn anymore. You’re not going to spend thirty minutes in the bath riding the detachable showerhead—”
“Then what’s the point of having one?”
“—you’re going to wear bras and underwear and if you have to touch yourself you’re gonna get under your covers and keep it to yourself. You understand?”
Daniel tapped her nose thoughtfully. “Can I still eat bananas or is that too inflammatory?”
“You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
She flashed him a smile. “You like that about me.”
John recalled the last fantasy he’d had of Daniel, the way she’d looked on all fours, tears and come running down her face, begging him to take her, to make the aching stop. A wire tripped somewhere inside him, fueled by whiskey and exhaustion and he said, “What I like about you would give you nightmares.”
Daniel looked up at him from under her lashes. “You don’t know that.”
Just like that the atmosphere changed from a tense negotiation to something else. The air between them charged, sparked with a chemistry stronger and more intoxicating than fifty-year whiskey.
“What did I say about flirting?” He said, trying to sound disinterested.
“That I shouldn’t do it?” She pressed two fingertips to her mouth as though she could already feel him there. “What happens if I keep going, Heathcliff? Punishment?”
John felt…inverted, as though she’d forced all his organs on the outside. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“A week ago you’d have been right.” She flashed him a smile that slipped between his ribs like a sharpened blade. “But lately I’ve been having these dreams…”
John held up a hand. “Stop. Unlike Colt I don’t think you’re worth a multi-million dollar contract.”
“Cheers,” she said and John was sure he saw a trace of real hurt in her usually laughing eyes. He had the insane urge to apologize, but thankfully she spoke before he could.
“Look you’ve got a deal. Tell Elkin about my ex coming to see me and I’ll make sure I Mother Theresa it up from now on.”
“Good,” He looked up at her clock, a fancy white and crystal thing with gold roman numerals embossed around the edge. “I’m gonna go her call her now. Colt should be back with some paint soon. I want you in your room by the time he gets here.”
“Fine. One more thing.” She dug a piece of paper out of the pocket of her jeans. “This is the name and number of the guy I want to be brought in and I want you to ca—”
John took it gingerly; it was covered in butter stains. “I’ll call her as soon as I’m back in the office but if she knocks you back….”
“She won’t.”
He tucked the greasy note into his back pocket. “You’re confident.”
Daniel’s smile was grim. “I know she’ll say yes.”