Page 20 of The Devil's Reward
Mid-afternoon, I’m tired and in desperate need of some coffee. Words on my screen are a blur, which means it’s time to get out of here and get some fresh air. I push away from my desk and stalk down the hall. Hulk and Crypt are both still at their desks, though they don’t look cross-eyed.
“I’m heading over to the convenience store,” I tell them.
“Thank fuck,” Hulk groans, standing and stretching his huge arms over his head. “I’m going with you.”
“We’re heading out?” Viper asks, coming out of his office.
“This is not a field trip,” I grouch.
“You sure about that, Mr. Chapman?” Viper snickers.
I flip him off. “Fine, let’s go.” I look over at Crypt, whose attention hasn’t moved from the screens, engrossed in the task I assigned him. “Crypt, let’s go,” I tell him.
He barely glances back at me. “I’m good,” he replies.
“Not a request, soldier,” I tell him easily. “Can’t leave any classmates behind.”
“You know, when I was in school I couldn’t tell my teacher to fuck off, but I don’t think I need to worry about that with you,” Crypt remarks coolly.
I smirk at him. “Oh, I don’t know, I might have a cell around here. I can call that your detention.” His eyes are blank as he stares at me, obviously uncaring about my threat. “Just get off your ass and let’s go.” He eyes me for a minute before getting up to follow us.
We’re all quiet as we make our way down the street. Behind Viper and I, Hulk and Crypt are silent, even as we enter the store. I nod at the clerk when we walk in. Mr. Diaz nods back at me from behind the counter before returning his attention to his magazine - or rather,magazines, since everyone knows he’s actually got porn tucked between the dog eared pages of that sports magazine.
I make my way down the aisle to the coolers in the back and grab a bottle of soda. I want coffee, but I’ve had enough for now, so this will have to do. I ignore the way Viper jokes with Hulk about his choice of a healthy bottle of water, while Crypt grabs himself an energy drink. I turn around to head back towards the register, but freeze when I see the woman walking thru the door.
The same woman that haunted my dreams last night.
She glances my way, and her gaze stops on mine, and I feel a burn in my chest ignite almost instantly as our eyes collide. Her eyes flash with recognition, and her face flushes with a blush. She gives me a quick nod and moves to grab some gum and a candy bar from the display to her left.
I stand behind her as she gets to the counter. She briefly glances back at me and gives me a shy smile before she faces forward again. I glare at Mr. Diaz when he gives her an appreciative look, and he quickly looks away while he rings her up. Mr. Diaz isn’t much of a problem normally, but I don’t want him trying anything with Quinn.
“Thank you,” Quinn says shyly as she finishes her transaction. “Have a good day.”
“Hold on a second,” I tell her as I toss some cash on the counter to pay for mine. She looks at me in shock before her gaze slides away, and her face heats even more. I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so endearing. Mr. Diaz’s eyes light up when I gesture for Quinn to follow me outside, leaving him the change as a tip. A very good tip, since I gave him a twenty and my bill would have only been a few bucks.
I catch Viper’s eye to let him know where I’m going, and he grins at me and nods. Outside the store, Quinn stops a few feet away from me, and glances up at me before shifting her eyes away. Hmm, I guess she is shy. “Is, um, is, this, uh, about Macy and the chip thing?” she asks, nerves clear in her voice. “I can pay you for them.” She reaches for her purse, but I stop her quickly.
“No, nothing to do with that. I just wanted to say thank you for contacting me about Crypt. And let you know we moved him off base today; he’s going to be staying at our clubhouse for the time being,” I explain. Hopefully Crypt won’t have my ass for telling her this, but I have the uncontrollable urge to talk to her. To see just how different, and alike, she is to Sam.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she says, her face instantly transforming into a beaming smile. “I’m glad that he could get a job with you and find a place to stay. Are the accommodations at the clubhouse permanent?”
I shrug. “It’s up to him. He’s going to propsect for the club; if he likes it, and we like him, we’ll patch him in eventually which means he’ll always have a place at the club. If he doesn’t want to stay with the club, then we’ll set him up at his own place, but he can still work with me. One isn’t dependent on the other.” Fuck, I need to shut up. I don’t know what it is about Quinn, but I can’t seem to stop talking.
She nods, unconcerned. “It’s great that he already has so many sources of support. And thank you for giving him a chance with the job.”
“Anyone else, send them our way,” I tell her with a smile. She blinks at me, flushes some more and nods again. She stands there awkwardly as we lapse into silence, neither of us moving away. Finally, I force myself to say, “Oh, and we have another opening for a receptionist or admin person, if you have anyone that fits the bill.”
She straightens slightly and reaches into her purse to grab her phone. “Let me make a note of that. I have a couple more people coming to see me today, and I’ll keep this position in mind when I talk to them. Are you looking for anything specific in this person?”
“They need to keep their mouths shut,” I say honestly. She looks up at me in surprise. “The jobs we do involve sensitive, often highly confidential information. We do security work, bodyguarding, and sometimes, private investigation and reconnaissance; all of that is confidential. People in the forces are naturally good at keeping things hush-hush. Despite that, you can tell when people are the type to give a little too much information, by over sharing things with you in a general conversation.”
Quinn’s brows pull down into a little V of concentration as she quickly taps away on her phone. “Do you need them to have a clearance of any kind?” she asks.
“Not necessarily. We don’t work with the military or police or anything like that, but our clients have means and don’t want their business talked about.” I cock my head thoughtfully as I look at her. “Mostly, I want someone who doesn’t mind creating a schedule, is organized, and can handle paperwork. I hate that shit.”
She lets out a small chuckle, so soft I almost don’t hear it, but now that I have, I want to hear it again, but louder. Damn it, I don’t want this in my life right now. I don’t want her to captivate me. “I hate paperwork too,” she tells me. She puts her phone away and tucks a strand of copper hair behind her ear. “Thanks for telling me all this. I’ll definitely keep this in mind for my clients. How long are you accepting applications?”
“Until we hire someone. I put an ad up today, so there will be other applicants,” I warn her.
