I looked at Griffin and Zeke. Then again, there was always the occasional exception to trip you up.
“He’s still not up?” I climbed out of the tub, the wrinkles falling out of the silk pajamas as I stood.
“No.” He sat there with two of my guns in my lap; his hands had stopped moving. “Maybe he’d rather stay where he is. I’m nothing more than a damn anchor around his neck.”
He sounded defeated and angry and neither emotion was like Zeke. There were long stretches where someone who didn’t know him would wonder if he had any emotion at all. He did. He just kept it buried in a dark place, a place I thought was probably host to cold bathwater and a drowned baby. The way he was showing it now was an indication of how truly upset he was.
“You’re his friend, Zeke, and you’re his purpose. He’s lucky to have you, more than you know. Knowing your true purpose in life, that’s a miracle.” I padded over to the bed. “I’ll show you.” I put a hand on Griffin’s shoulder and shook him. “Wake up, sleepy-head.”
His head was turned on the pillow facing Zeke. His eyes flickered instead of snapping open immediately, evidence of his exhaustion, but when they did open, they fixed on Zeke first and foremost. They showed instant relief; then he frowned. “Is it morning? Have you had breakfast?”
Zeke returned to the guns as if he hadn’t been worried, as if he didn’t even know what worry was, but I saw his jaw relax. “No. I was cleaning Trixa’s guns.”
The frown intensified. “Did you eat supper last night?”
“No. I was cleaning my guns. Guns are more important than food.”
Griffin sat up. “You woke me up and made me eat something. I wouldn’t call it food, but it was microwaved, so I’m guessing you would.”
“That was lunch. I couldn’t wake you up for supper. And someone has to take care of you. You’re weak and frail,” Zeke said with a sardonic twist of his lips—there and gone so quickly you could convince yourself that you imagined it. “Like a little girl. You asked for a pudding cup.”
“I did not,” Griffin growled. Griffin of the fine food and fine clothes, who had given up the pedestrian things of a foster child life the moment Eden House had showered him with money. The words “pudding cup” almost literally horrified him. We all do our best to deal in different ways.
“All this codependency is bringing a tear to my eye, but get up and go eat, the both of you,” I ordered. “At the diner around the corner. I’m ready for a little alone time.” I hadn’t had any in quite a few days. I wanted it, I needed it, and despite them obeying me, I still didn’t get much.
Fifteen minutes after Griffin and Zeke had gone, Leo was calling for me. I came down the stairs to see Mr. Trinity and his entourage. I was still in my pajamas, but while silk, they covered me neck to ankle. I doubted it would’ve made any difference if I’d come down stark naked or with tasseled pasties rotating like propellers. I didn’t think Mr. Trinity was into sex . . . with either gender. He was an asexual pillar of ice. I didn’t even know that I was a person to him instead of just a thing to accomplish his goal. It seemed all of him, every speck, molecule, iota, belonged to his Creator. His focus lay in serving him and only him. And pardon my political incorrectness, but it was creepy as hell. What was worse was imagining how he might feel if he knew God wasn’t giving him his orders . . . angels were, angels who were using him as a windup tin soldier and didn’t necessarily have a clue as to what God wanted.
“You’ve had your time,” he said, charcoal suit impeccably tailored. “Where is the next signpost?”
“Orange juice,” I told Leo, who was standing behind the bar. He poured and handed it to me and I was grateful for the slug of vodka he’d included. He was a man who really knew how to read a woman, especially one who wasn’t particularly a morning person when the night before was spent in the bathtub. I drank the squat glass down and sighed. Better. I turned back to Mr. Trinity with his four men dressed a little more casually, although certainly not Zeke-casual, but enough for fighting demons if they had to. “San Diego. The next bread crumb is in San Diego.”
“We leave this afternoon. I’ll have someone pick you up at four,” he said flatly. Then he turned and, followed by his loyal dogs, was gone.
I sat on a bar stool and raised my eyebrows. “If only my trips to the gynecologist were that quick and efficient.”
“On that note, I’m going to balance the books and puncture my eardrums.” Leo tossed his towel onto the bar. “Do you want me to come to San Diego with you?”
“No. I’ll be surrounded by Eden House’s second best and most anal.” I tried for the dregs of the OJ. “I’ll most likely be safe from our downstairs neighbors. Will you be okay? I’m leaving Zeke and Griffin to stay here with you. Considering the time they’ve had, their place might not be the best place for them. Besides, they can act as your bodyguards,” I teased.
“Don’t insult me.” He snorted. “You want me to look after them, I take it? You’re aware my paycheck doesn’t cover babysitting.”
“Pretend they’re family.” I handed him the glass and he put it in the dishwasher.
“You do remember how I got along with my family in the days when they were still speaking to me?” he asked wryly.
True. His family was definitely not my family. They lived at one another ’s throats and Leo was the worst of them all. Or he had been. He’d changed over the years. Well, not changed so much as mellowed a few thousand degrees. Same spots but greatly faded. I hoped one day they would give him a chance to prove that. But the bad blood between Leo and his father was very bad indeed. Bile, black and acidic. That kind of burn would take a long time to cool. Either that or a catastrophe.
Later, I’d be thinking how hindsight was such the bitch.
“Someday”—I pulled at the black braid that trailed down his chest—“someday they’ll see you for what you are now . . . if I have to kick the ass of each and every one. I promise.”
“That might be the one thing that does it. They fear you almost as much as they did me.” He returned the favor by wrapping one of my messy curls around his finger. “And with good reason.”
“You always were one with a compliment.” I slapped his chest and ordered, “And treat Zeke and Griffin like my family, then, not yours.” I told him this, but I didn’t need to. Leo had treated them just that way, just as I had, from day one. Strays who needed help; strays who’d become adopted family because if we didn’t do it, no one else would. And honestly no one else was as qualified as we were. Just because I sold information that occasionally led to the end of a rotten, cheating, and abusive soul didn’t mean I also didn’t have sympathy for those who deserved it.
Although these days, fewer and fewer seemed to. Maybe it was the crowd I’d started running with. Demons and the lackeys of angels. I was no one’s lackey.
And despite what Mr. Trinity thought when he arrived to pick me up, I certainly wasn’t his.
Chapter 10
The House had their own jet. No surprise there. It was only a four-hour drive, but I suspected the last thing Mr. Trinity wanted was to be cooped up in a car, no matter how large and opulent, for that long with a bar owner. An annoyingly low-class bar owner with unsuitably tousled waves of streaked hair, equally unsuitable red jacket and pants, and the rude habit of demanding food and pomegranate martinis on an hour-long flight.
At least Eden House had connections far above and beyond the government, because I boarded their plane without showing ID and carrying my gun. And a few knives. I could’ve carried in a shotgun if I’d wanted. I didn’t want. I wanted another martini, but we landed before I was able to order one. Mr. Trinity hadn’t exchanged one word during the flight. His second in command, along for the ride, Jackson Goodman, was less restrained. “Greed and gluttony,” he said disapprovingly. “While we’re on . . .”