Free Tiger Eye by Marjorie M. Liu Page B

invitations.”
    “Oh, God, no.” The thought of Hari working for Dirk & Steele horrified her. He was dangerous enough, without having the Kamikaze King on his back. “This guy is a friend. I promised to help him out.”
    This time it was Roland who grunted. “Just a friend?”
    Dela blushed, and he instantly sighed. “Okay, babe, no problem. You know I got your back. What’s his name?”
    “Hari. H-a-r-i. No last name. Feel free to make one up. And thanks, Roland. You’re a sweetheart. I’ll take a picture of him with my digital camera and send it to you.”
    “Whatever. Anything else?”
    She hesitated, but Roland had to be told. The attack might have been personal—but if not, then the target was much greater, more important than just herself. Everyone in the agency might be at risk.
    “Someone’s trying to kill me.”
    The result of that particular announcement required Dela to hold the phone away from her ear while semi-inarticulate gurgles emerged from the earpiece.
    “… AND DON’T YOU HOLD THAT PHONE AWAY FROM YOUR HEAD! I CAN SEE YOU, AND IT DRIVES ME CRAZY!”
    Dela grimaced, and returned the receiver to her ear. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you don’t calm down. You know what the doctor told you.”
    “Calm down? Jeeeezus, Del. Who the hell is trying to kill you?”
    She told him about her attacker, giving him a full description. She also explained the knife and her fears regarding the agency.
    “We haven’t been compromised,” Roland said. “I would know. What about you, though? Enemies?”
    “None I can think of, and most of the people I meet are at fancy social gatherings. I’m perfectly charming at those things.”
    “Which means you’ve probably got a dozen people who want you dead, and who could afford to do it right.”
    “Only a dozen? I’m hurt, Roland.”
    “Sarcasm will get you everywhere, babe. Don’t worry, Dirk & Steele is officially on the case.”
    “Lovely.” She meant it, too. “When is the earliest you can get me those papers?”
    “Tomorrow evening, or the morning after. I’ll twist some fingers, pour in some cash. I’m worried about you, though. I can send some locals to watch your back.”
    “I’ll be fine, Roland. No extra help needed. Or wanted. And don’t tell the family. Please. The last thing I need is them freaking out.” Or getting involved.
    “Give me Max, at least. I answer to your family if you croak, Del. Your grandmother alone will nail my hide to the wall.”
    “Not before she shaves off your balls with Grandpa’s antique razor.”
    He sucked in his breath. “You’re evil.”
    Dela smiled.
    She asked Roland to send someone to check on her personal assistant, Adam—it stood to reason anyone close to her could be a potential target—and after sharing her contact information at the hotel, they ended their conversation with a simple ‘bye.
    Still grinning, Dela looked up to find Hari studying her. A simple thing, but she forgot how to breathe.
    In the shadows of the hotel room, his tawny skin seemed to glow warm and golden. His deep scars did not mar the perfection of his body, covered only by a towel wrapped around his lean waist. Hair still wet, slicked away from his face, Hari’s cheekbones appeared higher, more pronounced, and Dela could see the tiger in his face, in the flush of his sun-drenched eyes. Water beaded on his chest and shoulders, and for a moment, she felt the insane urge to press her mouth against the hollow of his throat, to taste his wet body with her lips and hands.
    Down, girl.
    Dela wanted to laugh. This was all too absurd. Still, she could not take her eyes off him. It occurred to her that Hari would be completely at ease walking in public with just that towel. Not because he was arrogant or vain, but because he was so comfortable in his own body. Hari might have been a slave, but it was in name only. He still owned himself where it counted. He owned his soul.
    “You look like you’re