Charming People

by A. L. Tyler

  Charming People

  Jette Driftwood Book 3

  By A.L. Tyler

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  Charming People

  Jette Driftwood Book 3

  Text © A.L. Tyler 2018. All rights reserved. http://addisynltyler.blogspot.com/

  Edited by Sarah Read.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination and used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  For The Sisterhood & the my fellow Kboarders.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  “Did you pack protection?”

  “I don’t need a gun. Yes, I know that’s not what you meant.”

  Marge held up her hands. Her brunette beehive hairdo was all I could see over the back of the computer monitor. “Hey, I’m just saying—”

  “Separate. Rooms.” It was only the thousandth time I’d told her.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m almost twice your age. And I have a metric buttload more experience in this arena than you do. You’re going on a vacation date to a private island with a guy who’s seen you in the tub. Take protection.”

  “A metric buttload?”

  “You need a conversion? It’s three ass-tons. And it is better to have and not need than to need and not—”

  “Fine.”

  I went back to de-bagging and weighing marijuana for disposal. Marge went back to checking case numbers.

  Vampires were typically sterile. They didn’t usually carry infectious diseases, but Nick bore several Bleak-gifted enchantments that pushed him a little further undead in the human-vampire spectrum, and I had no idea how that affected him as far as... well, Marge’s packing concerns.

  And as awkward as things already were, I wasn’t planning to ask Nick for the clinical details. We were at least three dates away from clinical.

  Maybe five. Perhaps more.

  I’d been staring at the electrical outlet above the work counter as the thought of that conversation raced through my head. My hands must have stopped moving, because Marge gave me a sly wink when I glanced over.

  I grabbed another bag and read the label to her. “Case number seven-five-five-four-three, three-point-two ounces.”

  “Case seven-five-five-four-three, three-point-two ounces.” She clicked through the case file. “And a grinder?”

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  “Confirmed.”

  I cut open the bag and weighed the contents to be sure nothing had gone missing since the initial weigh-in, logged it, and dumped it into the trash bag for destruction.

  “You’re going to send me pictures, right?”

  I looked over. Marge flashed a grin and winked.

  “Sure. I will send you all the pictures of my empty, single-occupancy room that you like.”

  “And the pool. Send me pics of you and Nick at the pool. Do vampires do the whole swimsuit pool thing? Whatever. Convince him. And send me pics.”

  I gave her a long stare. “It’s in Canada. I don’t think they have pools in Canada.”

  “Every rich guy with a private island has a pool. Promise me you’ll get in the pool.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I promise.”

  A knock at the door made me look over. Nick was standing there, finishing a text on his phone.

  “Agent Warren,” Marge said, walking to the door. “I hope you’ve been standing there long enough to know that pool time isn’t optional.”

  “I’ve been standing here long enough to say protection won’t be an issue,” he smirked. “I’ve got my concealed on me at all times, but that does make it difficult to wear a swimsuit.”

  She winked. “You could always not wear a swimsuit.”

  “Okay!” I walked over. “Sexual harassment in the workplace. Hilarious. I’ll be ready to go in five.”

  I took off my gloves and tossed them in the trash before going to the sink to wash my hands.

  “I tried to get her to wear a mask,” Marge said. “I worry, you know, because she’s a woman of childbearing age—”

  “Marge.”

  She ignored me. “So, because I know my esteemed colleague won’t bring it up on her own—”

  “For fuck’s sake.” I yanked a paper towel from the dispenser and turned back to them. “Nick, Marge would like to know if you’ve packed any condoms for this trip. Because as my mother, she has a right to know intimate details about my adult sex life.”

  He took it in stride. “I don’t anticipate needing them on this trip, but I’ll pack some for your sake, Marge.”

  “Good man.” She gave him a curt nod and me a crooked smile. “Have fun on your trip.”

  I chucked the paper towel in the garbage and brushed past Nick as I scooped up my bag. Amusement at my embarrassment still lingered in his eyes.

  “Goodbye, Marge.” He gave her a wave as he followed me out.

  I marched down the long stretch of hallway to the parking lot. Nick sauntered along next to me.

  “She means well,” he said lightly.

  I huffed a sarcastic laugh.

  “Hey.” He stepped in front of me as we exited the building, blocking my path. He was a head taller than I was, and his trench coat only made his already well-defined physique seem even more intimidating in the slanted light of the early evening “Did you expect anything different from Marge after she found out?”

  I stretched the tense muscle in my neck. “No.”

  He held out his hands. “Would you like to pretend all of that discussion never happened?”

  I took a breath, staring up into his hazel eyes. He waited, giving me the sexy stare he had perfected through years of charming people into talking.

  I couldn’t help myself and smiled, blushing as I looked down at my shoes. “Yes.”

  “Done.”

  I looked back up at him, shaking my head. “She needs to find someone so she can stop obsessing about me.”

  Nick shrugged. “I know someone we could set her up with.”

  “Who?” I cocked my head as I drew the word out. Most of Nick’s friends were handlers for the Bleak or criminals, and outside of who they acted for, there wasn’t too much difference in behavior.

  He exhaled a slow breath with a mischievous smile. Then he stood a little straighter and assumed his businesslike demeanor.

  Sergeant Beech, my boss, paused as he came out of the doors behind me. “Warren. Janet.”

  “Sergean
t,” I replied. “Good evening.”

  He gave me a nod and looked at Nick. “Something I can help you with? I thought we weren’t going to be seeing you around. Janet’s going to be on leave for a couple of weeks.”

  Nick gave me a long look and squared his shoulders at Beech.

  “Nick had some questions about a previous case I assisted with,” I said quickly. “I would have told you, but it just came up. He called me fifteen minutes ago.”

  Beech gestured back at the doors. “You can use my office if you need.”

  “We’re just wrapping up,” Nick said with a friendly smile. “I appreciate the offer.”

  He gave us another nod. “Carry on. Have fun on your vacation, Janet.”

  “Will do. Thank you, sir.”

  He walked out into the lot. Marge knew about the trip because she incessantly poked at everything until she knew, but we were keeping it quiet. It didn’t mean anything.

  Not yet, anyway.

  The sun hovered over the mountains in the west. It would be light for another hour. The long, warm evenings of summer never failed to mess with my sleep schedules.

  Nick leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “You leave first. I’ll follow.”

  He pulled out his phone and pretended to text.

  I tried to keep my expression neutral as I walked away and found a grove of evergreens in a park that shielded the view from the road. Nick didn’t need to know where I was going. Vampires specialize in stalking people.

  I pulled the ametrine ring from my pocket and slipped it on my finger as Nick sidled up next to me. As a Bleak-trained breaker, I knew a lot about taking spells apart. I had a unique talent for it because I was born with a rare gift: synesthesia. I could hear magic, and it gave me a sort of perfect pitch in tuning and taking apart the spells of others. However, my skills in casting were somewhat lacking.

  It still sent a shiver up my spine every time Nick stood behind me, his hand on mine to correct my stance. His breathing was steady against my hair as I used the ring to cast the transport spell and we stepped through to his apartment.

  We got our bags, I said a quick farewell to my cat, and then we left.

  I had never been on a real date before. Now I was committed to spending two weeks with Nick on a private island in Canada, celebrating the eightieth birthday of one of his previous clients.

  What could go wrong?

  Chapter 2

  We used the transport ring to go to the dock on the mainland. The island was warded against magic means of arrival and departure, which wasn’t uncommon for anyone with enough money. And from what Nick said, this former client was loaded.

  The sky was a crisp blue over the black water. Storm clouds loomed on the horizon and the small yacht sent to collect us came slowly to shore. A cool breeze made me shiver, and Nick immediately shed his coat to offer it to me.

  I looked at him like he was crazy.

  He raised his chin. “You’re having second thoughts.”

  Maybe I was. Everything felt jaded now that it was out in the open.

  “I don’t like change.”

  “Nothing’s changed.” He set the jacket around my shoulders before turning to look the other way on the dock. Standing side-by-side but facing opposite directions, he glanced down at me. “I would have offered before.”

  Offered, yes. Gone ahead and set it around my shoulders? Unlikely.

  The wards he had put on the coat sounded loud in my ears. It wasn’t as warm as I would have expected, but being a vampire—even one of the Bleak’s humanized daywalkers—I supposed that he ran a little cooler than average.

  “It’s not the first time you’ve worn that coat.”

  He was right, of course, but the memory of the night that mana burn had nearly ended my life wasn’t something I liked to think about. I’d since been in touch with a healer, of sorts, who was helping me control my burns.

  The treatments weren’t exactly conventional. Or legal. As long as I was diligent with purging enough of the magic inside me, I would only need to break from our vacation once to see her.

  Nick’s mere mention of that night made me squirm with discomfort as I remembered the flames and the screaming. Wearing his coat home after I’d scorched my clothes was a footnote in that story.

  This was different. Casual.

  I looked uncertainly up at him, and he met my gaze with calm confidence. I wasn’t sure if it was his work mask or not.

  This wasn’t going to work.

  “Grand Gray-Hayden?” The man on the boat called to us.

  A smile spread across Nick’s face. “Rogers! It’s been decades.”

  The man tied the small boat to the dock. He was spry for all his gray hair as he leaped onto the dock to greet us. “Warren. It has been decades. Thirty years, old friend.”

  A handshake turned into a brief hug before Rogers turned to me.

  “Jette, this is Woodrow Rogers. He’s been Axel Hayden’s lawyer and personal assistant for as long as I’ve known him. Rogers, this is my colleague, Jette Driftwood.”

  We shook. “Ms. Driftwood, it’s an honor. You’re learning from one of the best in the industry. We were very disappointed to lose Nick all those years ago, but the Bleak has their say. They say that business with Grift was very serious.”

  It always comes back to Grift. I frowned. The case I hadn’t solved.

  Nick insisted that I was tilting at windmills and Grift had nothing to do with my father’s framing and incarceration, but it still haunted me. I lost sleep wondering why Samson Grift bore such an unfortunate resemblance to my father. In the small hours of the morning, I relived conversations held with unsavory characters in seedy bars. Worried old men in nursing homes with peeling wallpaper and stained carpets. Inmate visitor rooms, painted fifty shades of tan over the years, where crime bosses hid in plain sight and paid off guards to continue ruling their empires.

  Who is Samson Grift...?

  And what I knew was nothing compared to the conspiracies that plagued my idle thoughts.

  I pushed the fruitless obsession to the back of my mind. This trip was about the future, not the past. I relaxed into a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rogers.”

  I was grateful when he didn’t make a big deal out of my name. After stealing the Jarvais Topaz and my brief listing as the Bleak’s most wanted, everyone knew my name.

  “Shall we?” Rogers gestured at the boat.

  Nick helped me on board. I was all too aware of the respectful way that Rogers averted his gaze any time Nick touched me, even when it was just to offer a steadying hand.

  “Looks like rain,” Nick said with another glance at the horizon. The propeller sputtered up and we started to move. “The wolves will love that.”

  “Wolves?” I asked. Nick kept his gaze fixed on the dark, threatening clouds. I looked to Rogers instead.

  “Mr. Hayden keeps lost wolves on the island for security purposes,” Rogers said. “He receives a subsidy from the Bleak for maintaining properties where they can store their subjects.”

  Lost wolves. I frowned. Lost wolves were a special breed of werewolf, often too far gone in their disease to ever assume human form again. They were known for their intelligence, rabid nature, and the brutality of their attacks.

  I looked to Nick. “That isn’t dangerous?”

  Rogers answered. “The wolves are conditioned, Ms. Driftwood. They don’t come out in daylight hours, and as a measure to keep them contained, they don’t go in the water. Mr. Hayden has had every inch of the mansion meticulously sealed with wards to prevent their entry, so you don’t need to fear them. Warren is right, though. They’ll enjoy the rain. It’s the only form of bathing they have.”

  I tried to swallow my fears as we got off the boat, but I was shaking. Nick walked ahead of me, carrying our luggage with Rogers. A strong wind rushed across the water and I crossed my arms against the chill, once again eyeing the lightning-laced clouds rolling toward us. The trees went all the way to
the edge of the shore, gray water slapping against the rocks. A winding dirt path cut through the dark, dense forest. While the natural world was quiet except for the lapping waves, the place was incredibly loud to my gifted ears.

  I couldn’t see the mansion, but the wards rang loud, strong, and elegant like a chorus of cellos in the distance. There was something else, too. A scratching, clamoring, squeaking... like mice digging through a wall, occasionally emitting a noise like fingernails dragged down a chalkboard.

  The touch of magic on werewolves was usually so light that I couldn’t hear them, but the disease in these wolves was so progressed and malignant that the magic was eating them alive. And I could hear it.

  Beneath my horror, I was fascinated.

  “Jette.” Nick had surely seen as many werewolf attacks as I had. He even bore a scar from an attack some years earlier, but he wasn’t afraid now. I tried to be comforted. “Are you going to be okay with this?”

  “I’m fine,” I said with a completely fake smile. I increased my pace as stepped up next to him.

  We walked to a small covered parking area and Rogers drove us to the mansion in a convertible.

  As we drove, I could see eyes glowing and blinking in the woods around us.

  Nick noticed them, too. “Rogers?”

  Roger cast a fleeting glance at us, choosing his words carefully. “Mr. Hayden warned me that Ms. Driftwood is no normal witch. As you know, werewolves have a sixth sense for magic. It calls to them. But Ms. Driftwood will of course be safe here, as long as she follows the mandates. Stay indoors after dark.”

  I could hardly see the creatures as they darted through the shadows, running parallel to the car through the deep of the evergreens, as silent as shadows.

  Mr. Hayden was waiting for us by the front door when we arrived. He was as tall as Nick and still in good shape for his age, coming down the steps without assistance or hesitation.

  “Warren!” he called.

  Nick hardly waited for the car to stop before he jumped out, walking up to meet our host. “Axel! Eighty years, you old dog. I didn’t think you’d make it past sixty.”

  “I wouldn’t have, if not for you.”