Great Exploitations (Crisis in Cali) (4 page)

He was at the front of the stage, toward the center, and even though a fair share of head-turners surrounded him, Mr. Wallace seemed far more into the band and bobbing his head to the beat than who was around him and what they were offering up. After powering through the rest of the crowd and several unwanted advances, I made it to the edge of the Damien Wallace-groupie ring. Cutting through the crowd of concert goers had been relatively effortless, but as I moved to slide between the outer ring of girls, I received a stiff arm block.

Like that outer ring of girls had a chance in the first place . . .

Instead of attempting to shove through them a second time, I came at it from a different approach. All of them were fighting for his attention, so I’d ignore him and act as engrossed in the band
still
screaming shrill notes into their mics. Hopefully that approach would catch his eye.

I placed myself right at the edge of the female ring six deep around him, angled toward the stage, and pretended to be as enraptured by the music as I wasn’t. From their clothing and hair, I would have placed the band in the emo rock category, but their sound was heavy metal. The expression “hot mess” came to mind, but if my Target thought this band was the very pinnacle of music, so did I while I was working the Errand.

A whole song hadn’t gone by before I noticed someone move up beside me. Someone who towered over me. I allowed myself a small smile before casually glancing at him. Damien Wallace was so insanely tall it almost seemed unnatural. He teetered on the giant category, and his long arms and huge hands helped me understand why he had more than his fair share of groupies. A proper groupie couldn’t help but be morbidly curious to discover if the rest of Damien Wallace was just as super-sized.

“You’re a big fan too?” he shouted above the music.

When I looked up at him, I made it a point to not seem overly impressed or to let recognition appear in my expression. A guy like Damien Wallace would have to go to a third-world county to find a person who didn’t know him as a basketball god. I knew part of him thrived off of being known and noticed wherever he went, but I also knew he had to long for anonymity sometimes.

“How could anyone hear this and not be a fan?” I waved at the stage, my eardrums about to bleed, and kept a straight face.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” When Mr. Wallace’s gaze wandered from the stage to me, it swept so long up and down my body that I knew Mrs. Wallace would have to schedule her Contact sooner rather than later. “What’s your name?”

“Olivia,” I answered, making sure I didn’t seem too eager, yet didn’t come across as totally closed off. “What’s yours?”

His brows pulled together, like he was either appalled or insulted I wouldn’t know his name, but when a few more seconds ticked by, he grinned. “I’m Damien. Nice to meet you, Olivia.”

He held out his hand, and when I took it, it swallowed mine past the wrist. I’d never worked a Target quite as imposing as Mr. Wallace, and I would have been lying if I didn’t admit to being somewhat intimidated.

Another song passed, and while he didn’t say anything else, he stayed right beside me, earning me a fair amount of glares from the groupies clustered around us now. If his all-star status and millions didn’t make him appealing enough, Damien Wallace had been blessed in the looks department as well. With his dark hair, darker eyes, and bronze complexion, he took “tall, dark, and handsome” to a whole other level. Tack on his easy smile and air of confidence, and Damien Wallace was female catnip.

“You from around here?” he asked when the band left the stage for a short intermission.

My eardrums and sanity prayed a silent thanks. I stared at the stage, not having been hit on with the “you from around here?”
line since my college days. “In a broad sense of speaking.”

“You’re one of those mysterious types, aren’t you?” From the look in his eyes, he’d already arrived at his answer.

“Men labeling women as mysterious is just an excuse for not taking a little more time to get to know us.” I capped my side-handed response with a small smile as I turned toward him. He was already facing me.

“Busted,” he said, raising his hands. “That’s what my—” His mouth clamped shut, but he didn’t need to have spoken the words for me to know what they were.

That’s what his
wife
had told him. It struck me as odd that he’d come so close to slipping. Most of my Targets were so practiced at going behind their significant other’s backs that lying and living a double life had become second nature. Either Mr. Wallace was new at the two-timing game or off his game tonight.

I didn’t want too much uncomfortable silence to pass. I didn’t want him to think about his wife for too long because the only result from that was a heap of guilt, and guilt was a guaranteed way to ruin a Greet.

“I bet a lot of people told you you should play basketball when you were growing up,” I said with a flat expression. “What did they think when you grew up to be an engineer?”

His forehead creased. “An engineer? What makes you think I’m an engineer?” He didn’t look affronted, but I’d definitely thrown him for a loop.

“Because of the way you dress, that you keep a pen in your pocket”—I eyed the pen sticking out of his pants pocket. No doubt it was for signing autographs, but I was playing ignorant to that—“and because you’ve got the look of someone who’s spent lots of time in school.”

Mr. Wallace looked like he was choking on a laugh. After swallowing it, he gave me a purposeful look. “And from your clothing and preference toward music, I’d peg you as an elementary school teacher.”

That
got a laugh out of me, which made him laugh. His laugh was nice in that it was warm and didn’t feel forced. “Point made. So why don’t we stop guesstimating what each other does for a living and talk about something else?” I leaned in a bit closer—not so close that we were touching, but close enough that we could have touched if either of us moved a hair closer.

“What else is there to talk about?”

I arched a brow. “Absolutely nothing.”

At first, his expression ironed out in what appeared to be surprise, but a moment later, it shifted into an expression I was supremely familiar with. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

I held his stare as I answered, “Time is a luxury I don’t like to be wasteful with, so no, when I see something I like or want or have to do, I don’t waste any time.” I knew I was moving borderline too quickly for Mr. Wallace’s profile, and I also knew the reason why—the sooner I was done with him, the sooner I could get back to the man I really wanted to be around.

Mr. Wallace leaned that final inch closer so that our bodies were touching. “I like a mysterious woman who knows what she wants and goes after it.”

I slipped my hand around his waist. “You mean you like a woman who doesn’t make you work hard to get her into bed.”

He swallowed and put on a smile. “Precisely.”

IF THERE’D BEEN an exception to the rule, Damien Wallace might have been it, but just like all pro athletes, he’d taken the bait without so much as asking himself if he should consider it for one hot second. All I’d had to do was name the time and place. So simple. Such an easy thing for him to agree to, yet the repercussions would be far-reaching and stay with him forever. After meeting Mrs. Wallace and gleaning my first impressions of Mr. Wallace, for some strange reason, I’d found myself hoping he’d be the one who wouldn’t stray. The one who wouldn’t take one look my way or step into the trap I’d manufactured for him. I wanted to believe there was still some measure of loyalty left in the world and that
no
was still a word the male species could utter in the face of a propositioning woman.

I could want to believe until the world ended, but it didn’t change the fact that Mr. Wallace had agreed to meet me the next night at one of the more prestigious hotels close by. That was probably why I was in an extra-sour mood that morning at work. At
Callahan Industries
work. That I had to specify which job I was presently busy with amped my sour mood up another notch.

I’d texted Mrs. Wallace the information to relay to her Contact and had been trying to mentally prepare myself to close yet another Errand, but something wasn’t switching over. The switch that reminded me this was all business and that the ends justified the means. That what I did didn’t define me, that the reasons behind what I did defined me. That switch between the Eve I’d made myself into and the Eve I truly was had tripped a fuse or something because no matter how many times I tried to force it over, nothing worked.

I couldn’t separate the two Eves, and that was dangerous. So dangerous, that was the only thing I’d been focused on all day when I should have been accepting upcoming progress meetings into my calendar and replying to the dozens of emails in my inbox and inspecting the lab to ensure my team was all, as Henry had put it, properly fed and watered.

Henry. Of course he was the real issue, the reason why I’d never been so conflicted going into a Sheet night. I’d let my feelings for him grow, and tonight felt more like a betrayal to him than to myself. Which was absurd since he was nothing more than a job, an assignment, an Errand. He was an ex-lover who’d betrayed me in the worst kind of way. He was the man I should be champing at the bit to even the score with.

So why was he the only thing on my mind as my work day at Callahan Industries drew to a close? Why was his face the only one on my mind when I should have been preparing to go into my other job as an Eve? The job that mattered.

I was in the middle of trying not to answer those questions when a rap sounded on the other side of my door, followed by it slowly opening.

“Why does it feel like you’re always here?” Henry’s voice came from behind me, but I’d known it had been him before he said a single word.

I held back the sad sigh that begged to follow. “Because I always am.” When I heard him approaching, I didn’t swivel around to face him. I wasn’t sure if I could.

“We should talk about what happened the last time we were together.” He paused, giving me a chance to whip my head from side to side.

“No, we shouldn’t talk about what happened. We should
never
talk about what happened.” In my lap, I felt my hands trembling.

“Why not?” He was getting closer.

My eyes narrowed at the computer in front of me. Why, when my confusion levels were at their highest, did Henry Callahan have to show up? “Because.”

“Because why?” He was right behind me.

I felt his nearness, and at the same time I wanted to run away, I wanted to run into his arms. “When a person answers a question with ‘because,’ that’s a subtle hint that they don’t want to get into the particulars. So why don’t you leave it alone and leave me be, Henry?” My voice didn’t shake, but it was one word or touch from him away from it. My willpower was gone, my confidence shaken, my sense of right and wrong skewed. I was a boat stuck at sea without a compass or sail. I was a lump of clay just waiting for the closest person to mold and form me to their liking.

“I can’t let it be,” he said, his voice tight.

My eyes shut. If I could just block him out, I could make it through this next test. One sense at a time, I’d find a way to keep Henry at arm’s length. “Please,” I whispered, breathing through my mouth so I wouldn’t have to smell him. “Please try.”

A moment or two or five passed. Time had become indistinguishable.

“I’ve tried.”

“
Keep
trying.”

Another moment or two or five passed.

“I will keep trying, Eve, I promise . . . if you’ll look me in the eye right now and convince me that you feel nothing for me. If you can convince me that you feel as indifferent as you’ve tried to make me believe, I’ll keep trying to drown these feelings I have for you. If you can convince me that you don’t reciprocate the smallest fraction of what I feel for you, you won’t see me or hear from me unless it’s strictly business related.” His voice had been tight with emotion, but now it was so strong his words seemed to reverberate off the walls. “Convince me you hate me like you have every right in the world to, and I’ll turn around and leave this room right this second. Convince me you hate me, Eve, like I always assumed you did until you came back into my life. Convince me there’s no hope, Eve. Convince me right now.”

Whether it was his strong tone or his seemingly unending speech, I spun around in my chair, my eyes snapping to his. “There’s no hope.” The three words I’d intended to scream in his face barely registered to the human ear.

Barely, but Henry heard them plain enough. His forehead creased as he stared at me as if he could see right through me. “And you’re a liar.”

My blood heated instantly. “Don’t call me a liar.”

“Why not? We both know you’re lying.” Henry’s suit was as out of sorts as his expression. His top collar button had been pulled free, his tie was loosened and cock-eyed, and his sleeves were rolled up his forearms. His face led me to believe he was being torn to pieces from the inside out. Yet I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so attractive.