Wining Celeste (Book 4) Jacobs Broken Mercenaries

chapter 7

Celeste

I test the camera, opening the spyware app on my phone and turn the mic up eighty percent. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, but it doesn’t hurt to poke a stick in the steaming pile just to make sure it’s shit. Today, I switch tactics, hoping to ensnare the information and leave my bitterness behind. The task is difficult, to say the least, hence the recording. What I don’t pick up now, I may find later. I know he’s lying, and I intend to learn his tells.
“You want out of here? I’m going to sweeten the deal... you tell me what I need to know, and I’ll open this door right now and in debt myself to you for any favor, spell, or treasure you seek.” I say this as I’m walking up to Lucifer’s cell with the key in hand. He gets up and leans against the bars lazily.
“I was waiting for you to try reasoning. It’s useless... I don’t have her in my possession. You 're wasting time. Mine and yours.”
I don’t believe a word he says. Angels don’t lie. They’re incapable of it. Yet, lucifer’s so damn convincing. What does he have to lose in telling me?
“THEN CONVINCE ME!” I scream in frustration. So much for a change in tactics. Then, an idea strikes.
“Rumor has it there’s a phoenix that you 're destined to be with... I can deliver her to you. All I need is a location on my sister. If it checks out, I’ll free you and bring the girl as a prize... Wipe our slate clean. What do you say?” I watch the range of emotions play across his face. The mention of the phoenix piqued his interest. That’s my in. He lets out a long-suffering sigh and sits against the wall on his cot. I twist the truth, trying to sweeten the deal even more.
“My sources say with her at your side the two of you will conquer all.” He doesn’t even care. Maybe he knows the truth. That the phoenix is his ruin.
“She’s exquisite and extremely intelligent.” 
His disinterest quickly turns to curiosity. Ha, so that’s what he’s after... a loyal companion… What a sap.
“What does she look like?”
I keep my poker face in place and begin to explain Tally.
“She’s young and inexperienced, criminally so.” I watch his expressions. He’s good, but I’m better. As a master at hiding my emotions from a very young age, I pick up on his slightest tells. The twitch of his lip, tensing in his shoulders. His voice may sound calm, like he’s killing time and could care less, but his body tells me otherwise.
“She has a sense of humor and is overly curious-”
“So, she’s ugly.” he interrupts. I’ve already mentioned her beauty. He’s hinting for specifics.
“If you call long shiny deep mahogany hair, supple skin and pouty red lips ugly. Then yes... she’s horrifying.” The moment he leans forward and his thighs tense, I know he’s aroused.
“Go on.” he grunts.
“She has wide set tilted bedroom eyes that are the most stunning mix of brown and green I’ve ever seen and the cutest freckles across her nose and cheeks.” 
“The girl in Jacob’s crew? The child?” he asks, astounded. 
So, he did notice her, and please; child? Back in his time, she would have birthed three kids by now. She’s nearly nineteen.
“Does she know about this, so-called destiny?” 
Oh, I can tell the answer means a great deal to him, a great deal indeed. His ears have dropped a fraction of an inch, his mouth slightly a jar. The guy’s hands are gripping the cot. Could he be more obvious?
“I’ll tell you everything I know and deliver her to you in nothing but a bow! Just tell me where my sister is.” 
His mouth shuts with a loud snap. I recognize that look. We’re done for the day. I don’t rage because today I’ve made progress. I found something he wants, badly. I just need to work it to my advantage…
I sit in my car with the air conditioner on full blast. Rush hour traffic moves at a snail’s pace, and thoughts of my sister rattle around in my brain. I shut them down instantly; knowing all too well the downward spiral that kind of pattern can result in. While spending the first year of her disappearance imagining the terrible things she could be going through. It made me weak, unable to track down her assailant, not to mention my sleepless nights in fear of the vivid dreams reappearing or worse, that I was visioning reality. 
That’s not me anymore. I’m not afraid to make waves or burn bridges. I will find my sister if it kills me. Finding her now relies on Tally. I can’t imagine she’s enthusiastic about becoming Lucifer’s pet. It’s going to happen, regardless. What difference does it make who gives her the ride? So to speak. Now, how do I get close to Tally without causing suspicion?
I berate myself for my first thought. Sleeping with Grayson will not get me closer to Tally. Damn it! Even in the midst of all my problems, how the hell does he keep popping into my brain? 
If I could search Lucifer’s quarters, I bet I would already have found her, but no one can enter the underworld at the moment because its keeper is unavailable, thanks to me.
I wish I would stop jumping from one decision to the next and think a couple of steps ahead. My brain hurts from getting nowhere. My body hurts, too. I’ve been so tense. Yet, every time I think of Amber, it drives me that much harder to find her by any means necessary. 
My phone rings, causing me to jolt, and I shuffle through my purse, trying to keep my eyes on the road.
Shit! It’s Grayson. I don’t answer, and two seconds later, a beep sounds. A quick look at the screen tells me he’s left a message. I edge my two feet closer to the car in front of me and shift into park. Reading the message has me rolling my eyes. Grayson has used capital letters and exclamation marks. The message says we need to talk. 
He should know better. That’s the last thing we need. Every time I’m in the same room with that man, I become a fumbling idiot. I message him back, asking if this has to do with my spell. He replies no in bold capital letters. I don’t dignify it with a response, choosing to ignore him instead. When he messages back five minutes later that he knows where I live, I quickly type what? He wants to meet this evening at some restaurant downtown. I tell him this better not be a sneaky way to get a date and threaten him if it is. He responds, telling me to get over myself. 
My afternoon drags on, and it has nothing to do with my upcoming meeting, I tell myself. Although I take extra care with my makeup and pick one of my less conservative outfits. It’s only because I’m saving face after my little slip in the car…
Chachisma is a mid - to upper-class restaurant. They specialize in Italian cuisine; my favorite. I’ve never bothered stopping in because the lines are too long, but every time I pass it, I salivate from the delectable aroma drifting out of the place. 
“Do you like Italian?”
I narrow my eyes at Grayson. Something tells me he already knows the answer. Tonight, he’s wearing a crisp white button down with one too many buttons undone and a strategically cut black jacket. The contrast brings out the olive hue to his skin. His hair is slicked back, the tones ranging from ashy blonde to pale flax. It’s stunning. Schooling my features, I respond to his earlier question.
“I could take it or leave it.” I hide my laugh under a cough. He wasn’t expecting that answer, and his perplexed expression is beyond comical. He pulls my chair out like a true gentleman, and I take my seat with a frown. I can’t stand this caring act. He doesn’t even know me. He only wants me because I’m not falling in his lap. The moment the chase is over, I’ll be dumped on my ass faster than a bum in a taxi.
“What are we doing here, Grayson?”
He frowns, mimicking my expression. 
“Conversing and soon to be eating.” He answers. I shake my head and look down at my feet. 
“I thought I told you I’m not interested.” 
I speak quietly, but the annoyance is clear in my tone. I wait several seconds before looking up. Mostly because it’s hard to keep rejecting someone while knowing exactly how it feels. I have a heart. It’s damaged, but it can still feel. Mostly, I avoid his eyes because they’re hypnotizing. Not in a technical sense, but more metaphorical. It’s the same effect either way. His eyes don’t match his looks nor his attitude. They’re deep and honest. They seem to see me like no one has before. When I look long enough… deep enough. I can almost believe he needs me. At times, I feel like the only woman in the room. That’s dangerous. Right now, they’re angry.
“If you’re not, then why was your tongue down my throat just hours ago?”
My eyes widen as more than half the tables in our vicinity go quiet, and more than a few people turn in their seat at Grayson’s raised voice.
“Stop it! You’re embarrassing me.” I berate. His lips turn white as he holds his tongue.
“Sorry, I came to talk to you about a guy who’s been linked to dark magic and has begun to make a name for himself.”
Seriously? That’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack. There are thousands of species that dabble in black magic.
“What’s his name?” I ask, even though I don’t keep a circle of the type. I hear things.
“V... last night, I met a demon who’s working for him.”
Now that I would remember. Demons are useless to warlocks. What’s his strategy?
“Never heard of him.” I admit, but I do know someone who may. In fact, he’s locked away waiting for my arrival or dreading it. I stuff my secret away and deal with the matter at hand.
“I can ask around and see if I get any info. Is that it?” I ask. Grayson raises his brows at my candor. I could care less. My best defense is distance.
“Is it such a task to be in my company?”
Ouch! I really have been a bitch. Cruel but necessary. He’s like my kryptonite. This guy could break hearts with just a smile to the right girl. I will not be that girl.
“I’m sorry, it’s been busy.” I move to get up, and he follows me, placing his hand on my arm.
“You’re here now… couldn’t you stay for dinner? I’m buying.”
He looks so hopeful, practically begging. I sigh, knowing damn well he’s got me.
“Fine, but don’t get the wrong idea. I’m hungry and have already cleared my schedule.” 
Grayson smiles, and it lights up, his features jarring me.
“What’s your favorite food?”
“Italian.” I answer easily, completely forgetting my earlier statement. Of course, he knew that. I roll my eyes at his smug smile cracking one of my own.
It’s not long before I realize I’m not the only one who’s affected by Grayson’s intense personality and carnal looks. Our server does everything but place herself on the table as the main course; slut! Every time she comes over, which is often. Her blouse gets lower and lower. Right now, she’s one sneeze away from exposure.
“Is the meal to your liking?”
Ugh, her breathy voice makes me want to chuck. She pushes her chest out and what she says next makes my jaw clench.
“If there’s anything you need, anything at all. Just wave me over, sugar. It’s my pleasure to serve you.”
I have to give Grayson credit. He barely pays attention to her. If anything, he’s slightly rude and half ignores her, stuffing his face with the biggest meatballs I’ve ever seen. Little miss, happy to serve, spills my iced tea, absently placing it on a bread plate while staring at Grayson. 
“The service here sucks.”
Damn it! Why did I say anything? Grayson frowns, which must be hard to do with a full mouth. Wholly can he eat and why do I find it sexy? I mean disgusting.  
“You mean the floosy?” He asks through a mouth full of food, making me chuckle. So, he noticed.
“I just ignore it. The food is good… why aren’t you eating?” 
I look down at my shrimp scampi pasta and realize it’s no longer steaming. Actually, it’s probably cold. Just ignore it? He must be pretty popular if he’s not jumping at the opportunity. Of course he is. What am I doing? I’m only setting myself up for pain and I never want to feel that kind of torture ever again. 
“Sorry, my appetite isn’t really present today.” Man! I just said I was hungry. How does he do that? My entire reputation is built around my calm, cool, and collective persona. I never mess up and I’m really choosy with words. I get into a one-mile radius of Grayson and I’m that girl in the park all over again.
“How about dessert?” He suggests. My eyes drift to his chest and linger. There’s only one thing I’m hungry for, and it’s lethal.
“We could go to your place and I could make you a peanut butter and banana sandwich. They’re really good.”
I hear him talking, but I don’t register the words. I’m stuck in a daydream where he’s the dessert.
“Or maybe it’s not food you need.”
I recognize the shift in his voice and pull my eyes from his body to his face. He’s smoldering. If this were a cartoon, he’d have steam rolling off him and a ding sound to signal an erection. Shit, I’m being obvious. Why don’t I just show him a position and ask if we can act it out, that would be less obvious.
“I’ve got to go!” this time I don’t wait. I get up dodging him in a half walk half run gate… when I get home, I’m all three of the H’s hungry, horny, and hot. Which speaks multitudes of my discomfort. I could have easily fixed one of those by boxing up my meal. I really wanted to try their food. Unfortunately, there was something more appetizing. I’m just glad I got out of there when I did. A few more minutes and I would have thrown myself! On the table.