by Chant, Zoe
He gave his head a shake. “You had closed it off at your end before I even knew it existed. All I sensed was that you still lived, but I couldn’t find you.”
She took his hand into hers. “You never told me how you did find me.”
“You know I like detective novels. I saw one of your mysteries on the rack of a convenience store. The name Hidalgo caught my eye. I picked it up. Opened to a page. Your P.I. was trash-talking the villain and I swear I heard your voice, trash-talking Erich when he’d been going after the shoeshine kid.”
She grinned. “When was this?”
“A few months ago. I bought the book. Read it all the way through. Gave it to Alejo, and when he said he heard your voice in the narrator, I looked for information on the author. All I found was that biography that didn’t say much. We read all the ones we could find, and searched the internet. Alejo found a blog where the writer thanked G.T. Hidalgo for help on their first book, and mentioned you encouraging new writers out in California. There was that voice, and the name Hidalgo, and I couldn’t let go of the thought that it might be you.”
He slid his arm around her. “Then I was talking with someone I know in the Guardian circles who mentioned needing help with the Cang problem, and somehow that led to Joey Hu, and in the course of talking he mentioned his wife, and her friends, and your name came up. I volunteered, because I had to come and see if it really was you.”
“I’m sorry about the pastries,” she murmured into his shoulder. “And the coffee. And the custard on the car.”
She felt his chuckle through his body. “It was all worth it.” He leaned from side to side. “This really is a waterbed,” he observed.
Tired as Godiva was after several days of shorted sleep, she heard a note in his voice that she recognized—kindling that fire in her all over again.
She batted her eyelashes. “Want to give it a spin?”
Whether it was the waterbed or not, making love was even better this time. They took it slow, having a better sense for what each other liked. Her body remembered so well how to fit together with his, sending her straight to the stratosphere.
She sensed it was the same for him. And it was a relief to find out that this sense was a real thing, not her projecting her own feelings. Her body was sublimely happy. When she had floated down from the land of bliss, she lay in his arms, drowsing in that state between thinking and dreams.
She was aware of happiness, but conditionally. Was that mistrust? No, not that. Though they’d only spent a few days together, she knew enough to recognize that this was the real Rigo, the man she fell for all those years ago. What you saw was what you got. But . . .
“Godiva,” he murmured into the top of her head, and kissed her there. “You’re thinking again. About?”
“That’s right,” she said. “I can talk to you. Habit is hard to break. And . . . I’m beginning to realize I don’t know how to talk about what I’m feeling. I’ve never done it. Even when it was you and me, so long ago. We always blabbed about a future that was all wishes, and not so much of the how-to. Which you do when you’re young and it’s your first relationship.”
“With you so far, querida.”
“Maybe it’s guilt. My guilt. For my share of what happened. Because I could have at least tried to look for you. For Alejo’s sake, if not my own. Given you a chance to explain.”
“It’s all right,” he murmured. “I totally understand. I’d left you flat. There was no reason for you to trust me even that far.”
“You are sweet to try to talk me out of my share of whatever guilt remains, but in my experience, humans don’t accept blame for their own screwups nearly enough. So let me have mine. It won’t last long. Every time you kiss me, a little more of it whittles away—”
He happily obliged her not-so-subtle hint, until her phone bleeped. “That’s Jen’s ringtone,” she said.
They broke apart and looked at each other, both exclaiming “Long Cang!”
In her tiredness—and euphoria—Godiva had totally forgotten. From the quick way Rigo swept up his clothes with one hand, the other checking his phone, he had as well.
She had a lovely bathroom because if you’re going to remodel, why not do it right. Two quite easily fit into the huge shower tub combo. She enjoyed running her hands over him with the excuse of soaping him up, but before it could turn into something else, he murmured, “Later tonight?”
“Feels like it might be a three shower day,” she gloated. “I’m just putting that thought out there.”
They got themselves dry and clothed in record time. One of the houseguests had taken the somewhat newer car, leaving them the old one. Rigo offered to drive, and soon they were at Bird’s place. Everyone was there.
Joey looked up, as excited as Godiva had ever seen him. “Bryony was put to work stirring the stuff for the charm, so she didn’t even have to sneak. She was easily able to siphon some off. Sara and a couple of her lab students are busy working on the antidote now.”
“So what’s the problem?” Godiva asked.
“How to disperse it without getting caught,” Jen said.
“We were able to put people among them, but Bryony is pretty sure she overheard something that points to them doing the same to us,” Doris went on. “If so, not only are our kids in danger, but if they’re recognized, they won’t be able to get close enough to spritz the Cang team with the antidote.”
“Long Cang definitely knows us,” Joey said, indicating himself, Mikhail, and Rigo. “Jen as well. None of us can do it.”
Godiva put up a hand. “I volunteer. Nobody on Cang’s team would pay any attention to an old bat doddering about.”
Joey smiled her way. “Thank you. But at most, you would be de-charming one person, maybe two if they’re close enough together. From what Caleb has heard, a platoon of them will be converging on the Oracle Stone site. And Bryony said that they made a huge batch, so that supports the idea of it being split up over a large team.”
Jen said slowly, “Could we bring in some tough shifters from LA? They won’t be known to Cang’s people.”
Mikhail spoke up. “But Cang will have issued orders to be watchful. I don’t think his captains will let anyone close. Especially if his people sense other shifters. And many can.”
So that was why the tense faces. Godiva frowned down at her fingers interlaced with Rigo’s longer, stronger hand. Can’t be shifters. Or known. But there’s the Big Secret, so . . . was this a Catch-22?
No. Because if she could fly under the radar . . .
She looked up and smiled. “I have an idea.”
Everyone turned her way, faces hopeful.
“I’ve got a bunch of friends. All over sixty—most even older. Wait, wait, I’m not done yet. I know they can’t find out about shifters. They wouldn’t have to. If I told them that someone is trying to, oh, say, market a new and nasty street drug, but this spray neutralizes it, I absolutely guarantee I’d get you a platoon of enthusiastic volunteers. And who pays attention to a bunch of old bats, whether they are spritzing the air or standing on their heads?”
She sat back in satisfaction, watching the faces change one by one from doubt, to maybe, to hey it could work.
Joey said, “I don’t believe there’d be any danger, as the idea is to saturate the air as the targets pass, but still, I’ll only agree if I can get some of my people to be in range, if hidden, just in case.”
“I can totally agree with that,” Godiva said. “The woman I expect will be my number one volunteer is ninety-six. She’s still sharp as a pistol but a bit unsteady on her pins. We don’t want her trying to outrun villains.”
Joey turned to Mikhail, who said, “If we can protect them.”
Jen turned to Godiva. “We’ll help with recruitment. Just tell us what to do.”
It took the rest of the day and well into the night for Godiva to go around to all the women she thought might help. Rigo offered to go with her.
She only had two turn-dow
ns: one regretfully said no as she’d recently had a hip replacement, and the other wanted to go but was scolded out of it by her daughter, who unfortunately had come to the rest home for a visit and would not take a hint to leave. But since that particular would-be volunteer was Edna, nearly 100 and not too steady, Godiva didn’t push too hard. She knew Edna would be tickled simply to be asked—and she was.
“Come by again,” Edna cackled. “And bring that handsome fella. I can’t do much beyond look, these days, but my, my, he’s easy on the eyes!”
Rigo stayed right beside Godiva the entire time. The first time she introduced him, it felt odd to be saying, “We’re together now.” But as the afternoon turned into evening she found herself really enjoying introducing him.
But it took time to explain what was going to happen and what to do. Caleb’s team had already learned the typical daily routes of each Cang minion. They matched each of Godiva’s ladies with one target, somewhere near the Cang minion’s daily starting point. And each woman was given a small spray bottle, with quickly printed-and-pasted labels like Bug Repellent and Hand Sanitizer and the like. Each woman was also given Doris’s number to call to report in on success or a need for someone else to make a second pass.
“You’ll smell them coming,” Godiva said to each woman, passing along what Sara had told them, word for word. “This street drug has a very strong smell of eucalyptus. As soon as you whiff it, start spritzing. It will neutralize the drug, and a drug that doesn’t work is a drug nobody will be able to sell.”
It was late when they all met back at Bird and Mikhail’s.
Everyone had been working. Doris supervised the student volunteers who brought batches of antidote the moment they were ready, as Sara and her lab rats made up the bottles that Bird brought to Godiva to distribute to their team of recruits.
Jen, Nikos, and Mikhail cruised, the first two looking for zombies and Mikhail on a silent hunt for Cang. If the plan was to go down the next morning, Cang had to be somewhere near. Mikhail found the house that the charm had been sent to completely empty, and a fast internet search revealed that the house was actually owned by people currently living overseas. Cang had obviously broken in and used the place for an interim lair.
So Mikhail went hunting in his dragon form, but found no sign of Cang. The red dragon had to be sticking to his human form, which made him more difficult to sense unless the other mythic shifters were very close by.
But the red dragon was nowhere to be found.
Late at night everyone broke up to rest before meeting again at the bakery in the morning. Linette had been told that there was a group planning to clean up the beaches, after meeting at her place to start the day with goodies and coffee.
Rigo drove Godiva and himself back to her place. By then her eyelids were drooping. As she got ready for bed, she sought for words to ask if he wanted to sleep with her or have a bed to himself, but before she could find them he smiled her way, question in his eyes—and within seconds, she lay with his arms around her.
I could get used to this, she thought sleepily. Then her eyes flew open.
Get used to it where?
She heard Rigo’s breath deepening, and told herself firmly: tomorrow.
But it was still on her mind when the alarm went off. Once again they had to rush the shower (there will be time for hanky panky in my gorgeous bathroom, Godiva promised herself) and then dressed. Godiva chose a tunic top that was bland in color, sturdy, with deep pockets, into one of which she stashed her ‘air sanitizer.’
“Ready?” Rigo asked, holding out his hand.
She took it, and struck a pose, saying, “Make my day. No. Wait. You’re supposed to say that to villains. What other thing do badasses say? Let’s do this.”
Rig chuckled as they moved quickly through the silent house.
It was just barely light, as the targets were supposed to converge on Joey’s watchers at the Oracle Stone site around seven a.m., before the tired night shift guarding the place went home, and the day shift appeared.
At twenty to seven, Godiva and Rigo reached Linette’s diner. Rigo opened the door, from which wafted the smells of coffee and . . . cleaning fluid?
The two walked in to discover chaos. The other members of the Gang of Four and their mates were righting furniture. Linette was busy cleaning up a spill. One of her kids handled the orders and the register, as the regular morning trade was pretty brisk.
Doris straightened a chair and turned to greet Godiva and Rigo, her face flushed. “We had everything organized, but some drunk rolled in a couple minutes ago and managed to crash into the table where the buffet for our party was laid out. Luckily a few customers saved most of the pastry, but the big coffee maker went flying and splashed half the room.”
Jen stepped to her side, sipping herb tea, from the smell of it. “Why is it that when liquids spill, they seem to multiply by about ten extra gallons?”
Godiva said, “Does Linette want help with the cleanup?” At least it wasn’t me this time, she thought—and caught a quick, secret grin from Rigo.
Doris waved her off. “As you can see, we’re about done. There’s fresh coffee right here. Linette just brought out the pot from the back room. Godiva, you have to be at your station by seven, so grab your pastry and coffee, don’t wait!”
Rigo leaned down to kiss Godiva, then said, “I see Mikhail over there. I guess it’s time for me to go be backup. Which means right now getting the out of the way of y’all.”
Godiva watched him greet Mikhail and Nikos, who had finished straightening tables and now were chowing down on pastry—a plain donut for Mikhail, and something nutty and spicy-looking for Nikos. Rigo quietly passed up the sweet stuff and poured himself a cup of fresh coffee. Godiva then remembered he didn’t like sweets in the morning, though he wasn’t saying anything to anyone. Being the class act he was.
Pride surged through her as she grabbed her favorite strawberry tart. “I’m off.” She left, devouring her pastry as she walked, her elbow pressing tightly against the spritz bottle in her tunic pocket.
How are we going to talk about where to live, she wondered as she headed down the street. She definitely wanted to visit the ranch, especially as Alejo lived there, but . . . the thought of leaving her house made her insides squeeze.
And yet, did she have a right to ask Rigo to give up his place?
She gulped down her coffee, finishing it before she reached the coffee place across from her target’s apartment. She tossed her paper cup, closed one hand around her bottle, and pushed the door open.
Her target was a big buff guy with red hair, who invariably started his day with a double-espresso. He was supposed to be part of the team attacking Joey’s night patrol on the cliff above the Oracle Stone site—but no matter what he did with his days, his watcher had said he always got espresso first.
Godiva squeezed between the chattering college students and a clump of people in business attire, all needing their infusion of the good stuff before heading off to work. Absolutely no one paid any attention to her.
She pulled out her cell phone to look busy, so she could watch the time. 6:53.
6:56.
6:59.
7:00.
7:02 . . .
He’s not coming, Godiva thought—as the door opened, and a huge, glowering guy somewhere in his late twenties began pushing his way in.
Godiva sniffed. The room was filled with smells, coffee over all, but—
There it was, the sinus-scouring aroma of eucalyptus. Made bitter by something else.
Godiva had prepared a speech to mutter in case anyone was watching, but nobody so much as glanced at her. So, using a pair of lanky students as cover, she spritzed the air directly in the path Red was going in.
Then held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice . . .and Sara was right. Once you’ve doused yourself, or dosed yourself, with something strong-smelling, you get so used to it you don’t notice a fresh dose.
He walked righ
t through the spray without so much as a nose-twitch.
As he muscled up to the counter, Godiva headed for the door and slipped out before texting Doris, Done.
She started back toward the bakery, mentally checking the positions of her small army. Hey. Her old friend Mattie was only half a block away. Why not cruise by and watch?
Godiva lengthened her strides. She spotted the convenience store where Mattie sat on a bench outside. Mattie was one of those rare beings, a person even smaller than Godiva, a shy, pink-cheeked, cheerful chatterbox of a woman with a riot of gray curls. Mattie could talk the hind leg off a donkey, as they used to say back in Texas, but she had a good heart. So good, in fact, that she tended to believe anyone who was nice to her—and so they’d met not long after Mattie lost her husband, and she nearly fell into the clutches of a real estate scammer who preyed on widows.
Godiva was within fifteen feet when the door to the convenience store banged open and a young woman built like Jen slammed out, tapping a fresh pack of cigarettes against her palm.
Mattie sat up alertly. There was her target! Just as she’d been instructed, she sprayed the air right in the target’s path. Eucalyptus mixed with cigarette smoke wafted in the air as the woman strode past Mattie, and then Godiva, without a glance.
Godiva glanced over at Mattie, who grinned and raised her phone to report success to Doris.
Two down.
Godiva sat beside Mattie. “Good job.”
“I hope this puts one drug seller out of business,” Mattie said, brandishing her ‘bug spray.’ “She never even looked my way. Oh, my, that was fun, more fun than I’ve had in a bit—well, since me and my hubby used to go square dancing over at—oh, goodness me, will you look at that pair . . .” She sent a puzzled look behind Godiva, then said with a note of question, “Anyone might think that somebody partied hearty last night, but why would he have his briefcase . . .”
Godiva turned her head. A tall man in suit and tie, carrying a briefcase, and a teenage girl with a backpack were shambling along the boulevard, people getting out of their way, some pointing and laughing. Zombies!