by Juniper Hart
“She’ll have my cojones on a plate if I don’t come home,” Miguel agreed. “And I don’t sleep well away from the kids.”
The words made Damon smile. He wondered if he would ever understand the connection a father had to his children.
Well, maybe not his father, but normal fathers.
“But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t use a good buzz to see me through the ride home,” Miguel added. “Especially if you’re buying.”
“I’ll drive you,” Damon volunteered. “Who knows what public transit is like at this hour?”
“I know what it’s like,” Miguel chortled. “It’s not good.”
He paused.
“I always forget you have a car,” Miguel said, eyeing him as they secured their tools in the work shed. “You’re a brave man, Damon. How many times have you woken without tires?”
He was only half-joking, knowing the level of crime that occurred within the streets of their beloved city. What Miguel did not know, however, was that Damon lived in a gated community, protected and guarded, if only by humans. Anatoli had ensured her Sleepers had been well accommodated, it seemed. While his humble house in the La Candelaria was no Wilder mansion, it certainly provided the creature comforts Damon wanted. He had no complaints.
He didn’t bother to explain any of this to Miguel, of course, and instead turned his head away, pretending to busy himself locking up the cupboard.
“Tengo suerte,” he replied lightly.
“Lucky?” Miguel scoffed. “You’d have to have a horseshoe up your culo to not have that ride broken into.”
Damon swiftly changed the subject. He had no idea how much money Miguel made but judging by the modest house he shared with Ana and the children, Damon was sure it wasn’t enough to afford a place in a gated community.
“La Morena?” he asked, nodding at the sprinkling of bars across the street. “Do you want to go there?”
“You just hope you’ll meet a brunette of your own in there,” Miguel teased, nodding in agreement, and the pair headed across the lot toward the tavern. The place was already alive with the sound of Latin hip hop music. Contrary to its sexy name, La Morena boasted mostly a slew of blue-collar workers drowning their sorrows after work and very few women. The place was best described as seedy, but it served its function.
Despite Miguel’s constant insistence that Damon needed a mate, the Sleeper was not so sure that was the case. When he’d lived in the mansion, it had been a thought that had played heavily on him, mostly because it had been forbidden for so long. Under Lucien’s rule, the notion of a female had plagued him, only because it would have driven his father crazy. Not that there hadn’t been dates and encounters, but Damon had never met anyone who had set his world on fire and certainly not to the tune of bringing her home to upset his father. Between his tours in the wars and Lucien’s constant oppression, dating had not been an easy feat and Damon had eventually forsaken the notion of ever finding someone.
Until these past months when he had suddenly been surrounded by nubile women, ones from all walks of life. The world was truly his oyster now but there was something else holding him back from pursuing anything tangible.
What if I’m activated?
For that reason, Damon kept himself off the market, tempting as the marketplace was, and tolerated Miguel’s gentle ribbing without comment.
Maybe if I’m here a little longer, I’ll feel comfortable getting to know someone.
But the words of his training still echoed solidly in his mind.
Get close to no one. Never bring attention to yourself.
They entered the bar and the exhausted-looking bartender poured two beers from the taps without asking. She knew them well enough by now to remember. As she went to pour the tequila shots, Damon stopped her.
“Just one. For him.” He gestured toward Miguel, who gave him a look of surprise.
“What’s wrong? You slowing down in your old age?”
Damon shook his head.
“I’m driving, remember?”
The mention of his car caused several men nearby to turn their heads and Damon instantly realized his mistake. He lowered his voice, reaching for his beer as he turned against the bar to survey the room. After Miguel’s words to him at the site earlier, he found himself wondering if there were unseen threats in front of his face, ones that he had been too preoccupied to notice.
“Salud,” Miguel said, raising his shot glass and downing his tequila in an easy shot. The stout man barely flinched but Damon noticed that his brown eyes glistened slightly as he slapped the glass back to the bar and tapped the counter for another.
“You’re buying, right?” Miguel joked but Damon nodded.
“Of course,” he replied sincerely. He always found an excuse to pay, knowing that he sat on a handsome expense account, courtesy of Anatoli.
I wonder where she gets all her money from, he thought, not for the first time, but before he could lose himself in yet another memory, a beefy man sauntered in, half-drunk and giggling. Damon recognized him instantly. He was a house fixture, like one of the stained chairs or scarred countertops.
Pedro el buracho, Damon remembered.
“Any of you pendejos have a red Renault?” he hollered into the crowded bar. The din lessened as all eyes focused on the inebriated giant.
“Como?” someone yelled out.
“Una coche rojo!” Pedro barked back. “A Renault!”
“Uh oh…” Damon muttered as he pushed himself off the bar. Miguel groaned to mimic his sentiments.
“I do,” Damon said slowly. The chubby man began to laugh loudly as he shook his head.
“Not anymore,” Pedro howled, slapping his hand against his leg. “Two kids just jacked it.”
“What?” Miguel growled at him. “Why didn’t you come inside earlier?”
Pedro shrugged and slunk further into the bar. Without sparing another second, Damon bolted into the street to look. Half a block away, he froze in his tracks as he realized that the drunk had been telling the truth. He ambled back to the bar, his heart racing as he tried to figure out what to do. The police wouldn’t care about his stolen vehicle. It would more than likely turn up abandoned somewhere in a bad area of town, stripped and useless.
Did he have insurance? Did Anatoli see to that?
Damon reasoned he would find out. Somewhere in the house, there must be all the paperwork he needed.
“What happened?” he demanded of Pedro, who had flopped into a booth, his head sitting in his hands as he struggled to keep his eyes open.
“What do you think?” the resident fool demanded, snorting at Damon contemptuously. “You come in here, flashing your money and your car. You’re lucky that’s all that was taken.”
His eyes flashed indignantly but before Damon could retort, he felt a hand on his arm. Miguel led him back to the bar and signaled the bartender for two more shots.
“So much for luck, huh?” Miguel teased but Damon could see the compassion in his brown eyes. “I guess you’re not driving now, are you?”
“I guess not.”
“Good. I hate drinking alone.”
Marta placed the drinks on the counter and the work friends scooped them up to down them in a single gulp.
“I’ll get you a taxi,” Damon promised him and Miguel laughed loudly.
“What did he just say about flashing your dinero around, pendejo? Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. You, however…”
Damon’s eyes narrowed.
“What about me?”
Miguel shrugged.
“I worry about you, Damon,” he said sincerely.
“Because of my car getting stolen?” Damon asked in disbelief. “It’s like you said, it was only a matter of time. By all rights, it should have happened sooner.”
Miguel shook his head and sipped his beer before speaking again.
“It’s not just that,” he said quietly. “It’s something else, something… I don’t know. I think I s
ensed it in you from the first day. Ana sees it too.”
Damon chuckled, albeit nervously.
“You two need to go have a date night if you’re talking about me so much,” he quipped. “Don’t worry about me.”
He rapped on the bar to signal Marta again and she brought another two shots.
“I’m sure you can take care of yourself under normal circumstances, hermano,” Miguel said quietly. Damon felt a chill slither down his spine.
“What does that mean?”
Miguel let out a long sigh and turned to face him fully, his face more serious than Damon had ever seen it before.
“It means that you’re in Bogota now, Damon. You need to be prepared for anything.”
2
It took every fiber of Olivia’s being not to yawn loudly and with clear annoyance. The meeting was becoming tedious and repetitive, no matter how intelligent the men in her midst were trying to sound. And they were trying far too hard—as they always did. She would have liked to think it was for her benefit, but she had no doubt that they were each involved in some power dance that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with what was in their respective pants.
Her blue-green eyes watered with boredom and she ground her teeth together, hoping that someone would hear the noise. Not that it would move things along any more if they did.
They’re all too wrapped up in their own egos to give a rat’s ass, she realized, flopping back into the chair to fold her arms over her full bosom. Out of the corner of her teal eye, she caught Anders looking at her, the lust in his expression thinly veiled.
“What?” she snapped at him and he balked at the confrontation. Immediately, he turned back to the current speaker and Liv was forced to do the same.
“…overtaking the streets,” River was saying. “Their mere presence is a threat to our survival.”
“We should be able to deal with them the same way we do all the others,” Carlton insisted. “With money or threats.”
“You don’t understand these packs,” River growled. “They aren’t your average bears.”
Everyone around the table tittered except Liv, who clenched her teeth harder at the tired joke.
Why did she have to endure this once a month? She found herself questioning whether or not it was worth it more and more.
Of course it is, she thought firmly. Everyone has to put up with boring meetings. I’m not special.
But she would be. Very soon.
“I don’t know what else we can do about this,” Carlton sighed, sounding defeated. Liv had had enough of sitting around and twiddling her thumbs.
“Then send someone inside and dismantle them,” she snapped, furious that she was the one to suggest it. If Liv had her way, she would simply sit back and let the meetings pass without a word so she could return to her home office and pour a glass of chardonnay until she was needed.
She felt the collective gazes turn to her.
“What?”
Liv didn’t bother to see which idiot had asked for clarification.
“What what?” she barked, unfolding her arms to sit forward and splay her manicured hands against the cool top of the boardroom table. “Did I stutter? What was unclear about that?”
“Olivia,” River grumbled, well accustomed to her sour disposition. “Would you mind elaborating on your notion?”
Why does he insist on speaking like he’s four hundred years old? He’s not even eighty.
Not that anyone in the room looked a day over thirty, regardless of their varying ages. It was the bittersweet benefit of being a shifter, after all. No one aged and as far as the human world could see, they were all a bunch of young executives, having a meeting. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. The fact that so many important members of one organization were in one spot was enough to irk Liv further. The sooner this session concluded, the happier she’d be. Whatever happy was for Liv.
“Fine, River,” she replied haughtily, fully rolling her eyes without regard for his or any of the others’ discomfort. She knew she made them uncomfortable, a fact that didn’t faze her in the least.
“These gangs have defied our conventional methods of containment, yes?” she began, slowly, deliberately, and condescendingly.
There was a murmur of consensus and nods around the table.
“Then we need to take a different approach, agreed?” she went on in the same patronizing tone. Once upon a time, they had tried that very tone with her. It hadn’t lasted long.
“What do you mean by getting in there? Like undercover?” River pressed, scowling at her words.
“Deep cover,” Liv agreed, nodding. “Someone that they would never suspect. These groups have been growing exponentially and have built an infrastructure within themselves that won’t be taken on from the outside.”
“They’re loyal, that’s for sure,” River conceded. “Nothing works to make them see reason.”
“And dangerous,” Virgil muttered. “Anyone who’s tried to approach and reason with them in the recent years has disappeared.”
“That’s what you get for sending fairies to deal with bears,” Liv shot back. “Why wouldn’t you send a demon? Or at least a dragon?”
There was a slight pause as the males looked to one another, the question clearly taking them aback.
“We’ve had success before with fairies,” River said slowly. “They’re diplomatic—”
“You sent the least-equipped beings into a kill zone,” Liv interrupted. “Not once but several times. What is Einstein’s definition of insanity again? Because you guys are it.”
In unison, the men hung their heads, shamed by her chiding, but Liv wasn’t finished.
“You’re part of this team too, Liv,” Anders muttered.
“You allowed this problem to escalate,” Liv shot back. “Nowhere else in the world have we permitted the shifter gangs to interfere with our plans. We’ve brought them on board and when that didn’t work, we eliminated them.”
“Yes,” Carlton said dryly. “We understand we’re slightly out of our element.”
Liv scoffed loudly.
“Considering who we work for, I would hope we could do better than that for a response.”
More balking about the room as they avoided her eyes.
“Is that what you’re going to tell your respective bosses when this meeting concludes?” she went on, getting warmed up. “That you’re out of your element? I’m sure that will bode well for you.”
“Liv,” River growled, already annoyed with the lecture. “Why don’t you just spit it out?”
She gaped at him, her eyes flashing. Tossing her blonde mane with contempt, she snarled, “Would you like me to spell it out for you? Send in an operative. Send in six operatives if that’s what it takes. They’re only bears and can be restrained. It’s just going to take a bit of planning.”
“Where the hell are we going to find six demons?” River demanded.
“You know what I like about you, River?” Liv asked coyly, leaning forward to cup her high cheekbones in her palms. She batted her eyes demurely. “Very little.”
River frowned, his own eyes filling with malice.
“You have no issue finding flaws but when it comes to a solution, you’re oddly silent,” Liv went on. “You can’t send in six demons anyway. You need to send bears and a couple demons for backup. The bears will never let demons in their fold. They’re far too close-knit.”
“Well, I know where we can find a demon,” Carlton said suddenly, his face brightening. He looked directly at Liv, who returned his stare evenly.
“What?” she barked at him.
“You’re a demon, Olivia,” Virgil murmured and the others began to nod with more vehemence. Liv laughed loudly and clapped her hands.
“Do I look like someone who will easily blend into a rogue bear gang?” she shot back. “Use your brains.”
I’m asking too much of them, she mused. They don’t have half a brain between th
e lot of them.
“No, no!” River cried, excitement overcoming his face. “You’re perfect! No one will ever see you coming.”
Liv snorted but silently admitted that it was one of her secret weapons. She was unassuming to look at.
“You can’t be serious. How do you envision this playing out?” she shot back.
“You’re the one who’s full of ideas,” Carlton countered sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
Liv opened her mouth to argue but clamped it closed as she realized she’d put herself in the position.
Oh, what the hell? she thought. I can probably get this matter resolved in days. It’ll just be another notch on my belt while these guys stand around looking like the morons they are.
“Fine,” she agreed. “But I choose the operatives who come along.”
There was little protest from the others who seemed relieved that the matter was no longer their issue.
Do they expect me to drop the ball, Liv wondered. If that happens, they’ll be happy to point fingers at me.
But Liv wasn’t concerned. She knew what she was doing. That was why she had gotten as far as she had in their world.
“Are we done here?” she asked tiredly, rising before anyone could answer. She didn’t bother waiting for a response as she spun to leave, her matte heels clicking on the tile floor as she moved. She half-expected someone to call out to her but no one did and she made it to the elevator, uninterrupted.
Glancing behind her shoulder to see if anyone was in earshot, she pulled out her cell and dialed out. She could see the men still in the boardroom, pretending not to watch after her svelte form. Liv knew they were talking about her, but she didn’t care as long as they stayed away from her.
The phone call picked up after one ring.
“We just finished our monthly,” she said. “Looks like I’m going out of the country for a while.”
There was a slight pause.
“Why?”
“The bear gangs in South America are proving to be a nuisance to your cause,” she explained. The man on the other end of the line grunted.
“This again?” he growled. “What do you want from me?”