is off.” Zaxe allowed himself a smile. “And then I’ll kill you.”
Baraj grunted, a sound of disbelief and disagreement, but he did pull out his communicator. This was the type who followed instructions to the letter. How had he come to be in Reman’s employ? It might have no bearing on his mission, but you never knew what information might come in handy.
The conversation was short. “More men are coming. I’ll be outside.”
That battle easily won, he stepped over the threshold to Jamaeh’s home. This war was just beginning.
****
Jamaeh stopped just inside the door and shamelessly eavesdropped on the conversation. Zaxe had found a way to keep Reman’s killer out of her home. That was one intrusion she wouldn’t have to deal with. Bad enough that Zaxe would invade her home.
Baraj would taint it. Zaxe would leave an indelible mark.
There was a huge difference. It would be easier if Baraj was the one coming into her home. She knew what to expect from him. Zaxe was an enigma. There were layers to this man she might never uncover.
The man was dangerous to her on so many levels.
When he stepped inside and secured the door, she hurried to the kitchen area a few steps away. The place wasn’t exactly large. What would he think of her home? Not that she really cared, but it was a reflection of her, the person she truly was, not the one she’d been forced to be by circumstance.
She tried to see it from his perspective. The walls had been painted a pale teal, the perfect backdrop for the low purple sofa and the rainbow of colorful pillows that doubled as extra seating when necessary. The two-seater table, which separated the kitchen from the living area, was a deeper blue. The matching chairs had been hand-painted with flowers and vines. There were privacy screens on the windows, but colorful scarves draped over them. The lighting was muted, and something she only used when absolutely necessary. In the daytime, the sunlight poured in from outside, making the room glow like a jewel. It was a sharp contrast from the world outside. It was her home, her haven.
Zaxe stood, hands on his hips, and made a slow study of the place. She fought the urge to fidget. “I’m making tea.” She’d really like something stronger but needed her head clear. After filling the kettle and setting it on the two-burner cooker, she took down two pottery mugs. Anything to keep busy so she wouldn’t have to look at him.
Leaning against the counter, she lowered her head and took a deep breath. He’d stepped in to keep Reman from having his men strip her. But only because he wants me to guide him, a more cynical part of her responded. But guides could be had for a small payment.
He trusts me.
Or maybe he figures I’ll be easier to dispose of when this is done.
Her thoughts kept circling. Trying to figure things out was going to drive her mad. She didn’t know him, couldn’t and shouldn’t assign motives to his actions. People looked out for themselves. It was always best to assume that so you didn’t get hurt.
The silence was fraying her nerves. She jerked when the kettle began to whistle. Painstakingly, she added dried mint leaves to the mesh diffusers and deposited one into each mug before adding water. Usually, she would have taken more care, enjoyed the ritual of making tea. Tonight, it was simply something to do with her hands.
Cradling her mug in her hands, she went into the living area and sat on the sofa. Zaxe was still just inside the door, watching. “What are you waiting for?” she snapped.
“An invitation.” The deep baritone sent a shiver down her spine.
“You’re already in my home.”
He lowered his hood and nodded in agreement. “That is a necessity. You’re not obligated to offer me hospitality.”
“Your hovering is getting on my nerves.” She slammed her mug down on the low wooden coffee table. “I made tea.” Not exactly the most welcoming of greetings, but she was tired and past caring about customs.
Zaxe detoured to the kitchen and retrieved the remaining mug from the counter before joining her. He lowered himself onto one of the cushions and set his drink before him. “I apologize for getting you involved in this.”
She’d expected him to launch right into his plans. What was he doing? “My fault for accepting money to guide you.” Steam rose from her mug, dancing in the faintest air current