Liar by Francine Pascal Page B

freezing cold—people were hanging out. Three burly guys in leather jackets were walking out of the shadows right now, in fact. Gaia sneered. Maybe they were some of Skizz’s old clients, looking to score some coke. Maybe they hadn’t heard the news yet. Well. Gaia could perform a public service and tell them that Skizz was out of commission. Permanently.
    Wait a second.
    The three guys were walking right toward her. They slowed as they drew closer.
    Gaia’s eyes narrowed.
    They were staring at her.
    No doubt about it. Three pairs of hard eyes were fixed on her own. A burst of warmth suddenly shot through her limbs, as if an electric light had been turned on inside her. She felt no fear, of course—but she did feel curiosity. And readiness. Who were these guys? They didn’t look like druggies. No … their bodies were too thick, too healthy. They looked more like cops. Or security guards. And their faceswere oddly unremarkable. None of them had any striking or distinguishing features. They could have been brothers, triplets—born to an utterly nondescript family….
    She drew in her breath.
    They stopped right in front of her.
    Now,
this
was strange.
    None of them moved. Okay. It was more than strange—it was highly surreal. What the hell did they want? They didn’t look menacing, or threatening … or anything. Their expressions were utterly dead. She felt like she was standing in front of a semicircle of three statues.
    â€œUh … can I help you with something?” she asked, very calmly.
    The one in the middle nodded. “Yes,” he said in a toneless voice. “As a matter of fact, you can.”

Bored Beyond Belief
    IT’S A GODDAMNED FRIDAY NIGHT,
Ella thought, furiously slurping a double latte. She shifted on the hard Starbucks stool and glared through the huge window at theBroadway street scene. So many hip young passersby. So many couples. All looking so smug and content. And why not? They were all on their way to someplace exciting, someplace to let loose. Yet here
she
was—bored beyond belief.
    It’s a goddamned Friday night, and I’m wasting it by following some psycho teenage girl around.
    It had to be freezing cold, too. Her fingers felt like they were about to fall off. Even the warmth of the coffee cup did little to soothe them. Her hands were red and chapped and … ugly.
Her
hands. She’d probably catch hypothermia. Her winter wear wasn’t designed for long-term exposure to the elements. No, it was designed for style, to make her look good during those brief moments when she was caught outside. When she was hailing a cab, for instance. Or when she stepped from a cab into a party or club.
    But then, when was the last time she had
been
to a party or club?
    Not in years.
Years!
She took another sip of the coffee, burning her tongue. Her eyes smoldered. She was young; she was beautiful—and time was slipping away. She wouldn’t be young and beautiful forever. Why couldn’t Loki make whatever move he was planning to make and put an end to all this nonsense?
    She deserved a
medal
for her patience. For puttingup with George … that sniveling, pathetic wimp. For following Loki’s every command. Most of all, for living with Gaia Moore. For not
killing
Gaia Moore.
    Her fingers tightened around the paper cup. As much as Loki enraged her, she couldn’t control her feelings. Even now her body ached to be next to his. To feel his breath on her neck. To lose herself in that powerful embrace. To be … complete. But if Loki wouldn’t accommodate her, then she’d just have to find somebody else to satisfy those needs. Just in the interim.
    A secret smile crossed her lips.
    You don’t exactly hate it, do you, Ella?
    No. She didn’t. She loved it. And a woman needed her diversions. Abruptly she tossed the half-finished latte into the garbage and stood. She’d had just about enough of following