When Villains Rise (Market of Monsters #3) - Rebecca Schaeffer Page 0,90
know how to sell it. You don’t know how to use it to its best effect. You overpaid me today—by a lot.”
Nita rubbed her temples. “I figured as much.”
“I know how to use it.” Adair’s voice was steady. “I know how to stretch it and manipulate it and leak it and whisper it in the right places to make things happen.” He took a deep breath. “Work with me.”
Nita thought she’d misheard. “Pardon?”
“I’ll partner with you. You have the power, but I know how to use it.”
Nita stared at the wall, at the cracks in the plaster that looked a little like a fibula bone. Her first instinct was to reject him, to push Adair and his offer away. She didn’t share her power. She needed to be in control—only when she was completely in control would she be safe.
But she forced the instinct down, because it was wrong. She wasn’t her mother, obsessed with control at all costs. She couldn’t do this alone. She didn’t know how to use the information. Adair was right, much as she hated to admit it. Adair was almost always right. The very thought left a bad taste in her mouth, but she knew it to be true.
“You don’t even like me. I nearly killed you.” Nita’s voice was hard. “What’s stopping you from killing me and stealing my information?”
“I told you, Nita, I don’t do vengeance. What’s past is past. We’re both still alive, and this isn’t about liking. This is a business partnership, not a marriage proposal. Like doesn’t factor in.”
“Betrayal does,” Nita said. “What’s to stop you betraying me?”
He was silent for a long time, then said, “Diana.”
Nita blinked. “Pardon?”
“Diana. She wouldn’t let either of us betray the other. She may not hold much sway over you, but I won’t do anything to make her angry.”
His admission came out grudging, and Nita frowned slightly. “You like her, don’t you?”
“Of course I like her, I work with her every day. You think I’d hire her if I didn’t?”
“No, I mean, you like like her.”
Adair was silent for a long moment and then said, “I’ve never understood people’s obsession with romance. Why can’t I value her for who she is without there being something romantic?”
Nita blinked. She hadn’t really thought too deeply about it, or even thought too deeply about her question. Now, though, she wondered. Why had she assumed that?
Adair sighed softly, a crackling burst of static on the other end. “People love to think that if you have strong emotions for someone, that if you care for them deeply, it must be romantic. But that’s not true. I care about Diana a lot. But not that way.”
Nita was quiet. She understood, in a deep, foundational way, what Adair meant. Growing up, she knew there were friends and romances. Life hadn’t prepared her for anything else, and whenever she thought about Kovit, and the emotions around him, her mind said it must be romance, because surely a friendship couldn’t be that strong. If she felt this powerfully, then it must be something else, something “more,” as though friendship wasn’t enough and there was a next level of importance.
But what Nita felt for Kovit wasn’t necessarily romantic. That didn’t mean it wasn’t powerful.
Hearing Adair say those words, hearing him give voice to the confusion in her soul released something deep inside her, gave her permission she hadn’t known she’d been seeking to understand something within herself.
She cleared her throat. “I understand. I need to think on your offer.”
“I have time.”
Nita nodded and hung up, then stared quietly at the phone and the information, lost in thought.
Thirty-Five
NITA SAT THERE letting the thoughts tumble around her mind for a while before a knock on the door pulled her out of her stupor. She hesitated, heart racing as she asked, “Yes?”
“Nita?” called the voice on the other side.
Relief flooded her systems, muscles she hadn’t realized were tight with tension loosening, and she opened the door and let Kovit in. He wore a giant floppy tourist hat that obscured half his face, and a pair of ugly shades that covered the rest. He’d got a jacket somewhere and had used it to cover the bloodstains on his shirt. He was breathing heavily, from heat or exertion or both.
“Are you okay?” Nita asked, closing the door behind him.
He nodded. “I’m fine. I smell like dead bodies and hamburgers, but I’m fine.”
Her breath whooshed out. He took off the hat and the glasses and the coat, and he stumbled