Seductive Powers

Feeling really discombobulated, Draco took a seat at the table, unsure what to do with himself in this scene of domestic bliss between his brother and the woman Draco had tasted inside and out the night before.

  "Brother, how did you talk Wendy into cooking for you?"

  His brother smiled and shoveled in another bite. He spoke with his mouth full. "I didn't ask.

  She offered."

  "Wendy, you're here for us to protect you. That doesn't mean you have to cook or clean."

  She shrugged, still not turning around, which was starting to bug him. Why wouldn't she look

  at him? "I like to. It brings order to chaos.”

  “Cooking brings order to chaos?"

  "No." She laughed, this time looking over her shoulder to grin at him. When he saw her sparkling eyes, he could finally breathe. "Cooking stops hunger pains. Your brother prowled around like a hungry lion. I took pity on him."

  "I see." He could imagine. Most days Ace wasn't up before noon when Draco was already at work. He didn't have to see his younger brother's awakening theatrics. "Cleaning brings order to chaos?"

  "Yes, for me, it does that."

  A sudden vision of Wendy scrubbing the floors filled his mind and he didn't like it one bit.

  "Look, if you make a mess you can feel free to clean it up but you're not here to wait on us."

  She turned off the stove and used tongs to move the now-cooked pork onto a plate. Ace bounced up and down in his seat like an excited child. Draco rolled his eyes. He just wanted coffee.

  "You need to give me something to do, Draco. I can't sit around here and twiddle my thumbs.

  I'm used to being busy."

  He considered this. "What do you do on weekends?"

  "When I'm not working, I'm either doing charity work with Space Adventures, or I'm online."

  "So go online."

  She scoffed. "I can't play my online games all day."

  Ace interrupted. "Actually, I can't sit here all day. I need to go. I have a couple of leads I need to follow through on the transporter theory."

  Wendy's face lit up and Draco had a sudden urge to punch his brother right in the face for being the one to make that happen.

  "You looked into my theory."

  "Uh-huh." Ace grinned at her, doing what Draco had always thought of as Ace's cherub face.

  The son-of-a-gun used to do that to their mother, and he always got what he wanted. "It was Draco's idea. He said it was your theory."

  Wendy made eye contact with Draco and smiled. It was a slow grin, not an easy smile, but one that told him she was immensely grateful. While it made his heart stutter, he realized he didn't want Wendy's gratitude. No, he wanted her to assume he would do whatever she needed

  because she was sure he would.

  The thought made him ill. Suddenly, he couldn't even handle the idea of coffee. He needed to get out of there and he needed to get out of there right now. This sense of domesticity was too much. It was too easy picturing them like this on a permanent basis, and god knew Draco didn't need more people whose death would destroy him. Bad enough he had Ace.

  He pushed to his feet. "Wendy, if you're coming with me to the adjuster, which I suppose you are, since Ace is going hunting for transporters, then you need to get dressed."

  "Oh, great." She gave him a look that said she was incredibly pleased and then headed for the hallway. "I really can help you, Draco." She squeezed his arm as she passed him.

  He was sure she could, but she could also destroy him more than any insurance adjuster, lawsuit, or giant mechanical cat ever could.

  As Ace chomped on a piece of bacon, Draco felt a pang in his chest for not letting Wendy eat the breakfast she'd cooked.

  His brother sat back. "Have fun last night?”

  “That's none of your frickin' business."

  "Now, that might work with others, but you and I both know I can hear every breath you take if I want to."

  He needed to get dressed. "So don't want to."

  "I really like her. I think she's funny. And I like that she likes to please, she doesn't take your shit without giving some back, and she takes care of you."

  That was true. Wendy took good care of him. "I'm afraid she's going to have expectations of me that you and I both know I can't fulfill."

  Ace stood and carried his plate to the sink. He turned on the water. "Why can't you?"

  "What?"

  "Why can't you fulfill them?" Ace turned off the water.

  "I'm not a forever kind of guy. I have no intention of having children. What I do and how I do it will never let me be that guy, the one who has a wife who relies on him, who has a kid in the backseat." Even though the idea is compelling... "Wendy needs a family. She's never had one."

  Ace turned and regarded him. Gone was the jovial face he wore for the world. In its place was his too serious younger brother who had felt every hurt of the world as if it were his own.

  "Whatever we are, Draco, we're a family." True. No argument there.

  "We could be her family. She could be your wife."

  He tried not to choke at the word. Ace was getting way ahead of himself. "Wow, little brother, people don't get married because they have one amazing night of sex. They just don't."

  Ace walked toward him. "I'm a grown man, Draco. I live in the world, maybe more than you do."

  What the hell did he mean by that?

  Ace continued. "You've known this woman for four years. You've spent the majority of your time with her since the moment you met. There is no way you're going to convince me last night was nothing more than sex, amazing or otherwise."

  Draco needed to get out of this conversation immediately. "You just want someone to cook and clean for you. Even if I married her, she wouldn't be either your slave or your mother."

  "I'd like her to be my sister."

  "All right, enough." His voice rose, but he didn't care. He had a ton of stuff to get done today.

  It was likely his entire livelihood was about to come crashing down on his head. He didn't need this...meddling, in addition to everything else. For god's sake, he still had a psychopathic organization to defeat and a missing teenager who, regardless of the fact the boy's mother was now dead, Draco had agreed to find.

  Ace crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. He'd switched from his charming pose to his obstinate one. "What are you running from?"

  Draco stepped forward. His hand bunched into a fist, and he eyed Ace's nose with a longing to smash it. "I've never run from anything in my life."

  "Really? Because you're doing a damn good job of it right now."

  "Look." Draco lowered his tone. He really didn't want Wendy hearing him. "It's bad enough I have to worry about you. If something happened to you, it would kill me. They're already after my Handler because they think it'll bother me. Imagine if she was my girlfriend or my wife.

  They'd never stop coming after her. I can't let anyone else get that close. Close enough to put them in danger. Close enough to hurt me if I lose them. Have I made myself clear?"

  Ace's face had fallen sometime during the last speech but Draco had been so enraged, he hadn't noticed when it happened.

  "Is that what we are to you? Things you have to worry about?"

  He nodded. "Pretty much. Every damn thing in my life I care about is something someone can take away. I already have more than I can handle."

  "Do you think you're the only one at risk? I'm always putting myself out there.

  It's just as likely that they'd come after me through you."

  Draco shook his head. "No, it's not, because when we started this god forsaken enterprise I put my face out there as being in charge. I'm the one who does interviews. I'm the one who's seen on television. You sleep past noon, screw your Handler so you can't come to work, and never show yourself to anyone, even in the office."

  "I've got news for you now, big brother. You insisted on handling things ten years ago. You insisted that I be the man behind you so I
could know what was going on with the employees without them knowing I also owned the company." Ace took a deep breath. "And, yes, I made a mistake with my Handler but, guess what? You can't use that against me anymore. You've fucked your Handler, and as of last night, we're even."

  And in that last comment, Ace was, indeed, correct. Draco watched his brother storm down the hall in the opposite direction Wendy had taken. Fucked his Handler? If only it had been that simple. He shook his head, realizing he was about to have a day from hell.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wendy sat next to Draco in the insurance adjuster's office, trying to resist the urge to lean over and grab the man by his blue bowtie and slam him face first into his goldfish bowl. Usually, she wasn't violent, but George Judge—who had evidently decided that his last name entitled him to sit in judgment on all claimants like some kind of supreme being—seemed to be enjoying Draco's situation a little too much for her not to get really angry, at least on the inside.

  He had beady little eyes, a nose that was too large for his face, and almost no upper lip.

  Overall, it would have been hard enough to look at him on a good day, which this one was not turning out to be.

  "That's right. Nowhere in your policy are you covered for the eventuality of being attacked by giant cat monsters."

  "I'm aware of that, of course." Draco remained extremely civil when he addressed the little man—more than she would have.

  It had turned out that she wasn't much use here at all, which was disappointing.

  She'd really wanted to help.

  "But I'd like to point out that I paid the premium amount for the terrorism rider to cover this kind of situation."

  Beady Eyes rubbed his forehead, which dripped with sweat, and looked at Draco like he wanted to throw him off a short pier. "Mr. Powers, as I'm sure you're aware, this does not constitute an act of terrorism."

  Draco sighed and Wendy waited for him to retort. She waited. And waited. Hell, he never said anything. She turned to look at his profile. He seemed almost...defeated, which was not a look she was accustomed to seeing on the face of Draco Powers.

  No. She shook her head. Sitting straighter in her seat, she gripped the sides of her chair. "Mr.

  Judge, I'm afraid I'm going to have to contest your definition of the word. Of course this counts as an act of terrorism."

  Draco tried to interrupt. "Warner..."

  She wasn't finished talking and if he didn't like what she had to say, he could fire her. "What

  would you call what happened to Powers, Inc.? An accident?"

  "No, ma'am, of course not but—"

  She didn’t like the condescension in his tone when he said "of course not.”

  “In the general sense, terrorism is the systematic use of terror as a means of getting someone to do what you want them to do. That is clearly what this was. In no way was it an 'act of God,'

  in no way did we do this to ourselves." She ran a tongue over her lips and tried not to look at Draco. She didn't want to see him glare at her. "Tell me what this is if not terrorism?"

  George had gone silent. He regarded her with his eyebrows lowered, his beady eyes even more squinted. "I can't say that I agree with your definition in this case."

  "Fine." She nodded. "Then we want an appeal.”

  “An appeal?"

  Draco abruptly turned his head to look at her square in the face. "An appeal?”

  “Yes, an appeal. We want to start that process immediately."

  George Judge slammed his hands on the table as he stood. "I think that would be a waste of time for all of us."

  "Then it's our time to waste."

  "You know, Mr. Powers..." The insurance adjuster stood at his full height of five-foot-three inches. "I may never get another chance to say this so I'm going to say this now. I found everything about your organization to be disgusting. Who charges people for doing the right thing? Who charges people for basic human kindness? You have the ability to do what everyone wishes they could do, and you're making money off it."

  Wendy laughed. "Who does that? You do that. You're entire company charges people so they can recover from personal tragedies. Draco at least tries to make things better. Your company makes money off our fear that things will go wrong and then refuses to pay when they actually do. So you can take your pompous, holier-than-thou attitude and shove—"

  Draco grabbed her and hauled her from the room, calling behind him as he walked. "Thank you Mr. Judge, we look forward to hearing from you on that appeal."

  As soon as they hit the sidewalk, Draco took off flying with Wendy trapped in his strong embrace. She had no idea if he was angry with her or not. He hadn't uttered a word since he'd thanked the insurance adjuster.

  When they'd ascended what she guessed to be about fifteen stories, he landed them on top of

  a building. He panted like he was out of breath, but she knew he could fly higher, faster, and longer than he had without missing a beat. Something else was going on.

  "Draco, listen, I know I shouldn't have said anything. I know you wanted me to be quiet, but I just couldn't. I couldn't."

  Draco shook his head. "Do you know what you did? Do you understand? No one has ever stood up for me like that, not ever. It's always been me against the world and then...you."

  "What are you talking about? Ace would walk on water for you."

  "I know." He nodded. "Only, I can't ask him to do that. No one can know I have a weak center. I thought I was doing a good job hiding it. Then they killed Carl and knew they could go after you to get to me. What the hell am I going to do?" He gripped her shoulders before he kissed her hard and then backed away. "What the fuck am I going to do?"

  Draco's cell phone rang before Wendy could answer. He let her go to answer it and cursed as he looked at the number. "Ace, I'm right in the middle of something—Uh- huh. You don't say.

  That close? What the hell...All right, I'll check it out but I need you to meet me at the house so you can watch Wendy." He laughed. "I'll ask her. Fine. Bye."

  "I got some of that but not all of it."

  "They're building a transporter somewhere in one of the warehouses in West New York, New Jersey." He nodded toward the Hudson River. "Right over there somewhere."

  "I guess that makes sense." She chewed on her lip. "If they wanted to transport something to Powers, Inc., they probably needed to be close by. Maybe the technology isn't that far advanced; maybe they can only send things a certain distance."

  "Right, I should have known that you would find this fascinating."

  All right, so maybe she was a geek; nothing she could do about it. "What else did he say?"

  "He said to ask you if you cook dinner, too.”

  “I have been known to cook dinner."

  "Great, so we'll get you home and you can cook while I go end the Organization.”

  “Draco, don't you want to take some backup with you?"

  "If I actually go in, I'll call for help. But right now, all I plan to do is go take a look and investigate."

  She knew she didn't get a say in what Draco did or did not do. She was just his Handler. Still, she couldn't help but feel like his girlfriend. Was she? Or had she become a pathetic human

  being, lusting after a man who'd only wanted a one-night stand?

  "Draco—"

  He held out his hand, cutting her off. "We'll talk later, okay?" She nodded. "Okay."

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she hung on while he took off for the sky and back to his home.

  ****

  Wendy breaded chicken cutlets in the kitchen. "Who buys all your food and keeps this place clean?"

  Ace stared at his laptop, taking long pauses before answering her, obviously distracted. She returned to the counter.

  "Our housekeeper," he said.

  Applying the breadcrumbs to the chicken, she turned her head to look at him. "Draco blindfolded me the last ten minutes of our flight so I wouldn't know how to get here but your houseke
eper knows? That seems a bit unfair."

  "She doesn't know who we are. You'll note we don't have pictures around. We're never here when she's here."

  All right, so she felt a little better that she hadn't been kept in the dark while others knew the location. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm, um, reading up on transporter technology—the theory, how it would work, that kind of thing."

  Deciding not to bother him, she busied herself with the cooking. As a child, she'd dreamed of this. Cooking up a big meal, feeding her four children, having a home, and of course, sharing it with her husband. As she spread the Italian breadcrumbs over the chicken breast, the husband in her fantasy took on a face, an identity. Draco. Big problem. She was in so much trouble since she was pretty sure he wasn’t looking for that kind of commitment with her.

  "I'll tell you what." Ace interrupted her thoughts, which was a good thing. "Whoever these people are, they have really incredible technology. State of the art stuff."

  Just then, her cell phone buzzed, indicating a text message. Odd...no one ever texted her.

  Now that she was out of Space Adventures, she shouldn't be getting any calls at all, let alone text

  messages. She washed the breadcrumbs off her hands and then dried them, walking to the table to retrieve her phone.

  Kyle? She read his message: So sorry about everything. Miss you at S.A. Can you forgive me?

  Wendy stared at the phone in her hand. Her best friend, on the worst day of her life, had abandoned her and thrown her out of her favorite group. Could she forgive him? Closing her eyes, she dug deep for the answer. One of the principals of the show was forgiveness. If she didn't accept his apology—which might've been better over the phone or in person rather than text-messaged—was she truly devoted to Space Adventures?

  Sighing, she opened her eyes. Yes, she'd forgive him. Using the keypad, she punched in a reply. I can forgive you. Lots going on. Will talk in a few days.

  She set the phone on the table and with a smile walked back to the stove to finish their dinner. No sooner had she picked up another piece of chicken than a loud buzz permeated the air.

  Ace cursed as Wendy dropped the food and whirled around.