I barely had enough time for my normal reaction to crazy women. Here we go again.

          Then she nuzzled my cheek grazing her lips close to my ear and whispered, "Meet me at my home, and I'll explain everything."

         She pulled back from me, placed me neatly on the ground again and said in that cold tone of hers, "I quit."

          Then Anita walked out.

          Turned on, pissed off, depressed, shocked, hell amused, I couldn't stick to one sensation.

          What the fuck just happened?

~~~

          Eventually my maid texted me to tell me that the young woman had been released.

          I went ahead and jumped through all the hoops of preparing to interview for another PA, hoping I didn't have to go through with it, when I finally had enough and called Geoffrey to tell him I was heading out early to try to talk my PA into returning to work.

        Asshole started making kissy noises over the phone.

         Took me half an hour to get to her home. I hadn't even barely tapped on the frame when she opened the door and pulled me in for a kiss. It was as effortless as if she lifted linebackers for a living. I couldn't tell where my head was until she pulled away.

        The front door was shut behind us, and she was already walking away after having manhandled me through her door. It ended so abruptly that it ruffled my feathers, so to speak. "What was that for?!"

        "Any potential eavesdroppers. Don't worry, I made sure this home was soundproofed." She moved me into her front bedroom--made into an office. "Please, take a seat."

        Of course, she starts stripping. "While you know I don't mind, and it's even expected, what does your being naked have to do with that little scene at work?"

         She paused, having only really taken off little decorative things like her jewelry, and wiggled her fingers in front my face as she grew claws and hair, the bones distorting as her hand became more paw-like before she shifted back to normal. "You want to see where all this goes, then I've got to get out of the clothes."

        I chuckled at that. "Well that's not a place I'd ever expect it to go, but I assume you turn into some sort of beast, right? If so, then we can skip that for now."

         I'd seen my share of naked women, and I'm not scared of seeing a sexy woman turn into a monster--I've also seen my ration of horror films. I'm here for other reasons.

         "Well, that's unexpected."

         "I have some maturity, ma'am. It can't just all go to old age." I had to grin at that thought. "Besides, a man who waits usually earns a greater reward."

         She shook her head. "We've got quite a lot to cover, and in a short timeframe."

         "Alright, lay it out for me."

         "First, your office is bugged, beyond your own recordings. Anything I say in that room is compromised. I assume that you suspected as much, given how little you talk of any serious business plans out loud, in there?"

          I nodded. Honestly, I expect every room I step into to have someone recording. "Is your name really Anita?"

          "No. The resume was the real Anita Sullivan's. She's actually married to the still living brother, but the deceased one is who went into an altercation with Kean Murphy over how she was mistreated in Kean's care. I happen to look a great deal like her, and they were hoping my being here would tempt them out. We weren't sure that you had any connections to their...side business."

          "Until today."

          "And I'm hoping I've read your intent right."

          This could drag on forever, so I got to the point. "Are they actually taking care of removing threats and  crazy people or are they using this as an excuse to steal them for human trafficking?"

         "Just say slaves. Yes. They are taking your and other businessmen's problems and selling them. As much as I dislike Alana, she'd likely end up dead within a year."

         I'd like to say guilt ate at me, but I'd be lying. No, not because I didn't care, but because I genuinely believed we used a real service, not a fence for some serious black market moves. "Well, have you found the files on those disposed of?"

         "6 over the past decade?"

         "7, you're missing one. Honey Derringer, Fein Cadieux, Zoë Sweft, Mary Dane, Alfie Bateson, Quil Short, and James Monroe?

         "I'm missing Mary's file."

         "Well, that's because she was my stalker. I didn't involve our business in my private life's affairs. Geoffrey has less scruples. I'll give you anything you want on that." Something else was bothering me, so I decided to ask. "Now, why are you trusting me with this much?"

          "First, this company is too small for Murphy to have as an ally in what they are doing. They need you to be clueless while ruthless. Second, you're my mate."

          It doesn't take a genius to know that someone using the word my and a modestly rare word for friend in the context of trust is extremely possessive--especially to a man that has spent most of his adult life avoiding just that. I know my lips compressed into a thin line on that note. "I don't..."

         "No, you're not going to do this." I'd never seen her speak that harshly. "It's a biological condition, like a period. Something uncomfortable and not talked about in public. If I wanted to manipulate you into a relationship, I would have bit you already."

         Kinky. No more weird than anything else that's happened today, so I think I can handle it. "Then if you weren't going to, why bring it up?"

         She rolled her eyes at me. "It comes with some mental abilities, like empathy. Being keyed into your feelings while you give out orders tends to give me an idea of what you really want. The first time you asked about that slaver, you were merely curious, picking up the idea that something is wrong with the man. This time, you fought against distress. Doesn't tell me what you were upset about, but being troubled and asking questions about a service you've already used doesn't take that much of a leap of faith. Trusting you enough for this conversation wasn't controversial."

         Then she touched my cheek with her fingertips. I suspect that this "empathy" comes with some mental barriers or something because this simple touch felt nothing like before--not just from a libido stance--sweet mother of God. "Besides, that bond has an affect on you. 6 months ago, you wouldn't have come here to get me to come back--you took a week to decide to hire me, remember? "

         But then she dropped her hand and grimaced. "That and if you don't cooperate, I wouldn't be the first Werewolf to kill her mate. It would probably destroy me, in the end, but this is for the greater good of my people. Neither of our lives are worth more than them."

         I beg to differ, as my life is very important to me, but then, sacrificing myself for the greater good is a rare mentality that goes into jobs meant to be public servants: doctors, cops, politicians, the military. I realized in this moment that I've never cared to get this deep into the mind of someone who was a simple fuck, and though the situation demanded it, I was screwing myself over, royally.

          I'm not going to get away from this woman unscathed. Besides, what bored rich man isn't tempted to play James Bond once in their lives?

          "Ok, I'm game. What do you need from me now?"

          "Well, I need you to look and smell of sex, so this next part should be far more fun."

          Finally, I was going to get something I've been obsessed with for damn near six months. I'm really starting to like this spy business.

~~~

         Excerpt taken from, "Don't Let Men Read Romances", the memoirs of Keith Moore, Co-founder of a pool toy chain that makes its way into cities and no one remembers the name thereof, but most everyone uses. His wife Dana denies ever having been a were spy, and claims that her husband likes telling lies about how they met.

But it is true that she became his PA under the name of Anita Sullivan.

The real Mrs. Sullivan is her cousin.