The Walls of Jericho

Interview

Channing’s POV

Every single meeting I have in Dublin runs frustratingly late.

I expect it to go poorly when Damien, Ferdi and I fly into the airport through some nasty weather and the plane lands nearly an hour late after circling while the airport ground crews struggle with the weather conditions. By the time we’ve collected our baggage and gone to meet our ride, it’s sheeting rain and the temperature has dropped significantly over what it had been the week before when we were previously here. None of the three of us anticipated this weather, so we wind up rushing back inside to one of the gift shops and purchasing some ridiculously overpriced heavy wool sweaters. They aren’t pretty, but they’ll keep us warm.

Unfortunately, this visit only continues going downhill from there. Our ride is late due to the local flooding and an alternative route has to be used, both to pick us up, and to get us where we’re going. By the time we reach our hotel, we only have a few minutes to wolf down some food before we have to leave again. I’d wanted to call Jericho—she likes me to let her know I’ve arrived safely—but there isn’t sufficient time.

The first test run of the fire retardant and tracker combination weapon flubs entirely and we learn later while we’re waiting for Damien’s team to attempt quick repairs that all the water in the launcher was the culprit. Since we can’t determine the kind of weather we might have to use the weapon in, that’ll mean another week’s delay and another trip to Ireland while they redesign and build a new housing for an operational model. The demonstration for that morning winds up scrapped as a result and there’s a mad scramble to rearrange our previously determined and already tight schedule so that we can still get everything done.

It never goes better for the three days we’re there.

There’s an eight hour time difference between Crossroads and Dublin and no matter how I try, between the long running meetings and our frantically rearranged schedule, every time I have a free minute to call Jericho, it’s early in the morning for her and I remember all too clearly what she’s like when she’s tired and awakened when she’s sleeping. All in all, that was a pretty hot and sexy morning anyway, I remember fondly, then ache missing her more.

I wind up talking to her voicemail when we find out the return flight home will be delayed. By that point, I feel so horrible, both from being separated from my mate and from not getting a single chance to talk to her, even briefly, that I don’t bother leaving much of a message when the call rolls to her voicemail. “The flight’s delayed. I won’t be home until late.”

“Let’s find some food,” I say to Ferdi and Damien as I hang up my cellphone. They both look about as bad as I feel, even though neither of them have mates. Between jet lag and all the work we’re putting in, we all look like zombie extras from The Walking Dead. I can tell by the smell that the restaurant options available at the airport run the gamut from significantly more disgusting and unhealthier even than Esteban’s—which really takes works if you ask me—to just slightly better than his diner.

It’s a little nostalgic sitting down to eat in the little pub-like place we choose and my heart really aches when our waitress is a bit snarky like Jericho used to be towards me when she was waiting tables. It doesn’t help that she’s wearing her dark hair in a ponytail and has on a thin gray sweatshirt, which reminds me even more of my mate. God, I really miss her. If it weren’t for the fact that I know everything I’m doing is to ensure her safety, I don’t think I could bear it. Being Alpha right now sucks.

By the time we land in Crossroads, it’s three-thirty in the morning. When I walk in the door at home an hour later, between my messed-up sleep schedule and the lousy food we had at the airport and on the plane, I’m hungry and have indigestion at the same time. I don’t even know how that happens to a wolf. 

I gag down a half-bottle of milk of magnesia and decide to make do with a shower and shave. I never make it that far.

Jericho’s apparently slept badly with me gone too, and the covers are trashed on the bed. She’s laying on her belly when I look in on her on my way to the shower, with one delectably bare shoulder and graceful arm flung out over my side of the bed. It’s like she’d been searching for me in her sleep.

It makes my heart swell.

I miss her dark hair as I scoop her silky strawberry blonde tresses to one side, but remind myself that with everything I’m working on, soon, she won’t have to hide anymore—no one in Avernus will. She doesn’t stir when I feather kisses from her nape out to the delicate curve of her shoulder, and disappointingly, neither do I.

I know it’s because I’m near-delirious since I’m so exhausted, so that’s when I opt to skip the shower and just lay down beside her. Once I’m rested, I’ll have my hands full making this up to Jericho, but that’s something I’m looking forward to, spending every single minute of the next three days working on.

**

The nasty sheep stench of Channing’s sweater assaults my nose the instant I set foot in the bedroom and I huff indignantly. I send a signal to Tassler house to crack one of the balcony doors to vent the foul smell. I toss my phone on the charging stand, grab my interview suit from my closet and take it into the bathroom.

The house is still quiet by the time I’m dressed and my hair and make-up are done—at least in the capacity I can manage both jobs. I glance in the mirror and don’t even recognize the woman looking back at me. If it weren’t for my amber-colored eyes, I look a striking amount like I did as Mia. It’s probably because I am Mia, I think dismissively, remembering all the times I looked at myself in the mirror just like this in that life while I was still in the dragon’s thrall. I collect my phone from my nightstand, then walk around to my mate’s side of the bed.

Channing’s still passed out and hasn’t even shifted position in the few hours I’ve been awake. He looks so peaceful, that even though I’d really like to, I don’t try to rouse him. The lonely part of me selfishly wishes he’d wake, that I’d see the white-blue whorls of desire in his gorgeous blue eyes as I caress his cheek, feeling the delicious warmth of him against my palm. Then my guilty heart sends a white-hot twinge of self-loathing through me.

It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since I touched him or he’s touched me.

It matters that I’ve betrayed his trust, and I’m about to go downstairs and ride in the car with the very man I did that with to interview for a job I haven’t told my mate I’m seeking.

God, I’m a horrible person.

Downstairs, I drop off a bowl of kettle corn for Mr. Adriani and Babo in the cinema. “Finish your breakfast first, I tell him, pointing to the mostly-eaten plate I brought in earlier where he’s left a bit of jelly toast and a slice of bacon as yet untouched. “If it’s not gone when I get back, you’ll be grounded from the television and no snacks until tomorrow, understand?”

His milky blue eyes flick away from the screen where he’s watching some old black and white western with a bunch of actors I don’t recognize, but only long enough to nod.

“It’ll all be well in the end, Michelle,” he calls as I’m closing the door.

I heave a heavy sigh. In that instant, I wonder if I know who I am any better than Mr. Adriani does. I certainly don’t think I like myself.

Drake’s waiting in his expensive car in our drive court when the elevator opens and I come down the last few steps to the ornate gate to our property. He gets out as I approach, rushing over to get the gate for me.

His smile lights up his whole handsome face as he says, “You look fantastic, Jericho.” There’s no doubt from the enthusiasm in his voice he truly means it. He’s so pleased, he ducks his head and kisses my cheek. “You look like you’re interviewing for the CEO position. I bet you’d make the Board of Directors happier doing the job than my dad does.”

My heart does that weird flip-flop at his compliments. “Thanks, Drake. I’m scared as hell.”

His eyes practically glow with warmth. “You’re going to do great.”

He hasn’t trimmed up his goatee in at least a couple of days, and the dark irregular stubble along his strong jaw only accents the outrageously handsome angles of his face. He really is to die for, and I wonder how he can possibly be single.

He’s dressed casually in frayed and washed-out jeans and a light blue, short-sleeved t-shirt despite the chill in the air, that clings to the beautiful muscles of his arms. Something about the shirt’s blue hue highlights the yellow-orange color of his eyes and taken as a whole, he’s even more smoldering hot than he usually is.

I paint another layer of guilt onto myself. God, I’m a horrible person.

As Drake latches the gate behind me, I can feel his eyes on my body, but whatever he’s thinking, he masks carefully when he rushes past me. By the time he meets my gaze again as he opens my car door for me, it’s just a polite smile on his face.

My panic hits its full stride the minute we exit the Tassler Heights community and the KDS building becomes visible on the horizon. I don’t even recognize that I’m fidgeting until Drake reaches an overwarm hand across from the driver’s seat and rests it on my bouncing knee.

“Jericho, seriously, you’re going to be just fine. You’re just talking to another woman,” he says.

“About a job,” I reply, not soothed whatsoever. “Potentially my first serious job ever.”

“Look,” he says. We’re stopped at a streetlight and he reaches across to the passenger seat again, strong fingers cupping around my chin to turn me to face him. “Bridget is just another woman, alright? She’s not as pretty as you. She’s definitely not as talented as you, so stop worrying, okay?”

“I still don’t know what to say to her.”

Drake puts the car in gear as the light turns green and we move forward with the surrounding traffic. “Play to your strengths, no matter what she asks. If she wants to know what you consider an area you need to improve on, tell her you’re super-organized and it frustrates you occasionally to have to redirect your energies when you’re in a flow on a project.”

“But I’m not super-organized,” I counter. “If she hires me, she’s going to know within a matter of days that everything around me quickly and inevitably descends into chaos.”

“Not in your work it doesn’t.” There’s no doubt in his voice. “And nobody cares what your desk looks like once you’ve got the job, only that you get your deliverables in on time or ahead of schedule. Trust me on that. It wouldn’t matter anyway if we get you into her work group—they work remotely except for twice-weekly on-site meetings—so nobody’d ever see your desk anyway.”

I inhale deeply as we pull into the KDS parking at the back of the building. Drake flashes his badge to a security guard at the gate there.

“Hey, George. How’s it going today?”

“It’s great, Mr. Kemp. I’ll meet you at the elevator to park the car for you.”

“No need, George.” Drake grins and the security guard visibly relaxes. “I’m not so high and mighty as my dad. Besides,” he pats his ridiculously flat and obviously divine abs with one large hand, “I need the exercise so I can keep my figure.”

George the security guard laughs and pats his own rounded belly. “Yeah, I’ve got that same problem, Mr. Kemp.”

We all get a laugh out of that and Drake’s charm relaxes even me. He’s such a good guy. God knows why he has any interest in me.

“I’ll take you up to Bridget’s floor, then meet you in the lobby afterwards,” he tells me. “There’s a book and coffee shop in the northwest corner. I’ll wait for you there.”

“Not going to offer to show me around your dad’s office?”

It’s clear by his expression that he’s taken aback by my suggestion. Frankly, I’m just as surprised. I don’t even know what my curiosity is to see it, but the mere thought that I might never get the chance again only makes me want it more. Other emotions flicker across his face so fast that I can’t read them, but those are quickly masked too.

“Meet me downstairs. We’ll go after that if you still want to.”

**

Bridget Doss is everything Drake led me to expect. Clearly, she’s paid well because she’s dressed in nice clothes and jewelry, and her unstyled hair is colored with well-done and expensive highlights, but her office is a bigger disaster than Mr. Adriani’s garage was before Channing had his Avernus crew clear it out and she looks pretty harried.

“She’ll be right with you,” the floor secretary tells me with a comforting pat on the shoulder when she leaves me at the door to Bridget’s office. “Go ahead and have a seat.”

My head’s full of all the coaching I’ve had from Rebecca about how a wealthy pet-wife behaves and the conflicting coaching I’ve had from Drake about being approachable and friendly without coming on too strong, so I’m positive as I take a seat and lay my clutch purse across my lap that I’m as awkward as a Japanese spider crab on roller skates.

I smile politely as she gives me a ‘one minute’ gesture and an apologetic look, then tries to rush her phone call while I surreptitiously attempt to avoid listening and direct my attention out the floor to ceiling windows in her office at the spectacular cityline view. Something in her conversation catches my attention though, and I realize, both with stunned and pleasant surprise, that I know what she’s talking about.

What’s more, I know how to fix it.

When she’s finally done with her call nearly ten minutes later, the interview goes just about exactly as expect it to. It’s clear Bridget Doss is not impressed with my education or my lack of experience, and I might even hazard to say she’s put off that I’m dressed as expensively as she is.

“What made you interested in this job with my group?” Bridget asks.

I can tell we’ve reached the end of the interview, and it’s gone even worse than I thought it would. I heave a quiet sigh and remind myself what Drake said about considering these interviews a training run. “It’s not necessarily with your group,” I reply, and my answer is totally the truth. “It’s with KDS. This is where I’ve wanted to work since before I started university, even if that means I clean offices in order to earn a position here.”

As Bridget jots some quick notes on a notepad on her desk and I’m convincing myself she’s just recommended me for a position in housekeeping, a sudden inspiration hits me.

“I don’t think cleaning would be the best use of my skills for KDS, especially since I know how to solve that problem you were talking about on the phone when I walked in.”

Her pen stills and her head snaps up interestedly. “Do you?”

I nod. “I’ll be happy to show you.” Offering what I hope is an approachable smile, I add, “Free of charge.”

The faintest glimmer of hope flares to life inside me as she continues to stare at me without blinking, mentally debating in her head.

Finally, she says, “Pull your chair around here,” and nods to the spot beside her.

“Sure.” Rising, I inhale deeply and hope she can’t hear my heart pounding as I wheel my chair around her desk. This is my last shot with her, I just know it, but it’s also a moment for me to shine.

Assuming I can.

As I take a seat, she pushes the monitor so we both can see it and pulls her keyboard out from a drawer beneath her desk. “This is the product update we’ve been working on.” With a few quick clicks of the mouse, she brings up the product notes and gives me a couple minutes to read them.

I shrug. “Okay. About standard use and what I’d have expected.”

Prompted by my comment, she types a few commands on the keyboard and brings up the lines of computer code they’re using in their product update. It’s also pretty standard. 

“This is what’s happening when we attempt the update with the affected client.” Another few clicks starts the update running, then an error pops up. 

I skim the error code quickly and let my invisible mage tentacles feel along the electronic data lines. “That’s interesting,” I comment, feeling the problem’s source immediately. “It’s not the kind of error I might have expected with the coding you’ve done.”

“So you can’t fix it.” She says, smugly superior and dismissive.

I’d like to punch her in the mouth, but when I show her up, that’ll be even better reward. “Actually, I can. Would you mind showing me the code again, please?”

It takes me less than two minutes to show her the breaking point in her code, give her the replacement code to fix it and have her run the program again. I’m wheeling my chair back around to its original position across her desk and I can’t help my grin when she gasps.

“Oh my God! You got it working!” she exclaims.

Picking up my clutch purse, I nod. “You’re welcome. I hope you don’t have any more problems with it.” As I extend my hand across the desk, Bridget rises and shakes it. “Thank you for the opportunity to interview with you, and for your time today.”

“Thank you for coming in, Ms. Stark. I expect to be making a decision about the position within the next couple weeks. Human Resources will reach out to you if you’re selected.”

“Okay. Have a good afternoon.”

**

I wait until I’m in the elevator headed for the lobby before I draw a breath, then unbutton my suit jacket. I lean against the lift wall as it descends slowly, shifting my weight between feet as these ridiculous heels hurt like all hell. I miss my Converse.

Drake’s waiting in the coffee shop, just like he promised, flipping interestedly through a book with some gorgeous glossy pictures in it. As I approach, he turns and grins. “Well?” he asks, starting to close the book.

I stick my hand in to catch the page. “What are you reading about?”

Holding it open again, he angles shoulder to shoulder with me and shows me the page. “It’s Walker Bay. On the South African coast. This town, Hermanus, is where I lived before my dad sent me here. It’s known for whale watching—southern right whales migrate to the bay. The town even employs a whale crier who sounds a horn when whales are sighted so anyone who wants can come out and get a look.”

“Wow. Crossroads is a garbage dump compared to this.” I turn the page and look at a few more underwater pictures of the abundant aquatic life there, then stop at the pictures of some black or dusky brown waterfowl, with bright red beaks and markings around their eyes, and long red legs terminating in webbed feet. They're set against a casually spectacular shoreline.

“African oystercatcher.” Drake points to the bird, seeing my lingering gaze, then turns the page to show me a few more pictures. “They’re noisy birds. Wade along the shores and fish for mollusks. They’re protected, but not a tremendous concern anymore. The bay’s a protected marine area and off-limits to all fishing and most boating. They still suffer predation, but not so badly anymore.”

“I wasn’t done looking at that,” I say crossly as he closes the book.

He flashes me a charming grin. “I know. I like that, so I’m just going to buy it for you,” he replies, striding towards the checkout counter.

While he’s making his purchase, I wander back to the lobby and look around. The KDS building is a wonder of the modern world, I swear, and for all the rumors about how hard and how demanding Drake Kemp senior is to work for, it really does look like he cares about his employees’ job satisfaction. There are a range of restaurant cuisines available, from quick carry-out places to nicer, sit-down restaurants, and what I can see of the menus, they offer a lot of health-conscious selections. There’s also the bookstore and coffee shop where Drake had me meet him, and even an appointment-only massage parlor dedicated to serving KDS employees exclusively.

“Happy end-of-your-first interview,” Drake says from behind my shoulder as he extends the book around me.

His breath stirs my hair and I can feel the unnatural heat of him on my back even through our clothes. Uncomfortable, I take the book and step away. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that, you know. I can afford to buy my own books. Don’t think you’re off the hook either. I still want to see how the other half lives.”

“’Other half’,” he laughs. “Says the woman who lives in the most expensive mini-mansion in Tassler Heights.” He offers me his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

I know what I should do. I should fall in step beside him, maybe even put my new book and my clutch purse in the hand closest to him to ensure that there’s no confusion.

Instead, I put my hand in his and let him lead me to the elevator.