by Kyle, Celia
Danque.
The snake could still be somewhere around the motel. They might still have time to catch him before he slithered away again. But Chelle was two steps ahead of him. Rushing past him, she let her hip bump him hard enough to catch him off guard, dropping him to the bed as she raced out of the room.
“Hey!” he barked, but she didn’t even turn around. She just raised her middle finger over her shoulder as she ran.
Allon wasn’t about to let her get the better of him this time. Rushing after her, he followed the sound of her footsteps toward the back of the motel. He caught a glimpse of her dashing down a corridor between two of the motel buildings, and it didn’t take long for him to catch up. Her eyes remained trained on the ground outside Room Five because when dealing with a snake, there was really only one place to look. Talk about keeping a low profile.
“You’re kidding yourself if you think he’d stay close to his room,” Allon called over his shoulder as he headed for the dumpsters.
Skidding to a stop between a pair, his sudden appearance startled a young, tatted man smoking a cigarette on the street side of one. The kid shifted into a bat and fluttered away, chittering angrily at Allon, who was too busy checking between and behind the dumpsters to care. As an Othercross Judiciary sworn agent, he should have been worried about a shifter changing so close to humans, but he had other things to be concerned with—namely Chelle.
Chelle elbowed Allon out of the way and threw open the top of one dumpster to peer inside before he got a chance. Dammit! Peering over her shoulder, he saw nothing but a shadowy sea of glass, plastic, and rotting food waste.
“Hey, if you’re in that much of a hurry to roll around in the trash, be my guest,” she said, laughing as she darted away. While Allon stared after her, a raccoon shifter scampered up the side of the dumpster and tossed a small trash bag away. It paused, gave Allon a very judgmental look, then dashed off.
Allon sighed and wiped his hand over his face. This was as frustrating as it was useless, but even though he knew that, something about Chelle made him want to keep chasing her. It was more than just catching Danque, it was competition—and having slept with her only made it more intense.
The search went on like that for another hour. They scoured the entire grounds of the Halfway Inn with no trace of Danque. By the time they started snooping around truck beds and exhaust pipes in the parking lot, the front desk clerk stood in the doorway of the office with a phone pressed to his ear—no doubt calling the cops. Allon gave a sharp whistle to get Chelle’s attention. She groaned, but begrudgingly stepped away from the truck she was looking under and fell in beside Allon as they retreated into the shadows.
“All right,” Allon grunted at her under his breath, “we have one of two options. Either we wait for the cops to show up or we admit the bastard gave us the slip again and go get the drink I’ve been wanting for the past half hour.”
Chelle frowned, obviously not wanting to give up, but at the mention of a drink, she looked a little conflicted. By the time the clerk was halfway across the parking lot, she sighed and nodded, giving him a relieved smile.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
* * *
“Set ‘em down and I’ll knock ‘em back,” Chelle told the bartender at the Uranus Liquor Bar and Grill, which just so happened to be down the street from the Halfway Inn, the Kum-and-Go Market, and the Master Baiter Fish and Tackle Shop, all of which entertained Chelle to no end. She considered herself a secret collector of good puns, the filthier the better.
The bartender, a scraggly older man with a milky blue cataract in one eye, grunted. “What’s yer poison?”
“Tonight,” she began thoughtfully, “I’m thinking…tequila.”
He grunted again and poured a shot of the pungent amber liquid. Chelle snatched it up, tossed it back, and set the shot glass down with a sharp clink before he’d even put the bottle away. Chelle smiled and gave him a wink.
“Like I said, set ‘em down and I’ll knock ‘em back.”
“That you did,” he said in his raspy voice, flashing a yellowed, crooked grin and pouring a second shot.
She sipped this one, her mind scattering in a thousand different directions. It had been one hell of a month, and it wasn’t over yet. Nothing was ever easy in her line of work, but for some reason tracking Danque was turning out to be much more trouble than she’d expected from a criminal like him. She was used to swooping in and neutralizing a target much faster than this, and Danque wasn’t even that smart. Generally, she could outfox just about anyone—even if she was a dragon, not a fox.
At this point in her career, she’d seen it all. It helped that most criminals were stupidly predictable. They fell into the same patterns again and again, and with Chelle’s ability to retain that information, she was pretty much an expert on criminal psychology. She was as close to her subject matter as she could get without dipping her toe in the murky waters of crime herself, and yet Danque had somehow managed to evade her on more occasions than she cared to admit. That hurt her pride deeply because as far as she could tell, he was nothing special. Just a run of the mill moron living on the wrong side of the law. Nothing new. And yet, she had not been able to trap the rat yet.
She would have loved to have been able to blame it all on Allon’s interference, but she’d been tracking Danque far longer than Allon had even known the guy existed. Of course, the sexy motherfucker sidling up next to her at the bar kept cockblocking her from doing her job, sabotaging her with his shoot-first-question-later style of skip tracing. He was a guns-a-blazin’ kind of guy, and that annoyed the hell out of her.
Chelle was a different kind of hunter, preferring to lie in wait and observe her prey from afar just long enough to learn their quirks. What made them tick. What scared them. What vulnerabilities she could exploit. Usually, the targets were quick to reveal these things to her, although they never had any idea that she was even close. Allon clearly approached his missions with a different perspective—one that just simply did not jive at all with Chelle’s style.
But despite the fact he seemed intent on ruining all of her best-laid plans, she also couldn’t deny the nearly mind-numbing effect he had over her. Every time they locked eyes, every time his skin gently, even accidentally, brushed against hers, was like a firework show crackling and sparkling under her skin. Like adrenaline injected directly into her veins.
It was annoying and confusing, but also extremely addictive.
She found herself craving his touch, his taste, the sensation of his hot breath on her neck, his teeth grazing her throat. As much as she despised him, at least he was good in the sack. Best she’d ever had, in fact. She shivered at his nearness and the delicious heat rolling off of his powerful frame. Then shook her head, mad at herself for getting all hot and bothered in a seedy bar, and downed the rest of her shot to burn it out.
“Gotta admit, you sure know what you’re doing out there,” he spoke suddenly.
Chelle blinked, surprised at the compliment. “Wow. Well, I guess you’re not so shabby yourself. You’ve beat me fair and square a couple times.”
“Uh-huh. And you’ve kicked my ass up and down the coast before, too.”
Chelle grinned at him as she held her shot glass up to the bartender for a refill. “There’s not enough room at the top for two, but I’m a big enough person to admit you’ve secured the number two slot.”
Allon chuckled and nodded at the bartender’s unspoken question. Soon, two full shots of tequila appeared before them.
“You never give up. Do you?”
“Are you kidding? I live for the competition.”
“Me, too. A little healthy competition never hurt anybody.”
“Agreed,” Chelle said, clinking her shot glass against his in a mini-toast. “Gotta tell you, as pissed as I was at the time, your gourmet salt basket was pretty funny. But I’ll have you know that I did not rub any of them in my wounds.”
“Glad you appreciated t
he sentiment. Some people don’t like puns.”
Chelle snorted. “Well, those people can suck my teeny tiny dick. Puns are amazing.”
Allon’s smile transformed to one of genuine amusement. “You’re just full of surprises. Aren’t you?”
She peered at him through thick dark lashes, letting her voice drop to a throaty growl. “You have no idea, my friend. No idea.”
“That’s your main gimmick. Isn’t it? The element of surprise?”
“Gimmick? That’s cold. I’d say technique, but whatever.”
“What I’m trying to say—and doing a shitty job of it, obviously—is that I…admire you. Don’t get me wrong, you piss me off and drive me up the damn wall, but I admire the hell out of your tenacity. You’re damn good at your job, Ms. Calidi.”
“Dude,” she said, setting her glass down and leveling a wry look at him. “Pretty sure you’ve earned the right to call me Chelle.”
“Gladly, Chelle,” he said, as if testing how it felt on his tongue. His mood shifted in the blink of an eye. “So what are we going to do about this Danque guy? He got away again, so it seems pretty clear working together is out of the question.”
“Pfft, no shit, Sherlock!”
“How bad is this guy, exactly?” he asked, throwing back his own shot.
“Bad. Real bad. He needs to be neutralized by somebody, and as soon as possible.”
“Yeah, and that somebody will be me,” Allon said with a wicked smile.
“Dream on, flyboy.”
“Seriously, though, Chelle,” Allon said soberly. “The reason this guy’s still on the loose is because of our rivalry. We keep trying to get the best of each other, which only benefits Danque. If he hurts or kills some innocent bystander now, it’ll be on both of our heads.”
Chelle’s shoulders slumped a little. He was right, as much as she hated to admit it.
“Can’t argue with that,” she groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. But if Allon thought she’d spill all of her intel on Danque Anguis, he had another think coming.
“The least we can do is stay out of each other’s way,” Allon said, his green eyes trained on her. “No more sabotage. Whoever gets closest to Danque next gets to bag him. Sound fair?”
“Deal,” Chelle said with a nod and took his outstretched hand.
The simple touch of their hands shot a bolt of electricity through her bones, and it was pretty clear by the look in his eyes he’d felt it too. Wrinkling her nose, she lowered her voice. “And no more hanky-panky, either. It’s too distracting.”
Allon looked like he wanted to argue, his hand lingering in hers, but finally, he nodded and pulled his hand free. She missed it immediately.
Chapter Five
Allon felt the heat of Chelle’s glare, despite the fact he had yet to have his first cup of coffee. When Charlie’s curt text had woken him up this morning, “requesting” his presence at Wildridge Security for a meeting to discuss the Danque Anguis situation, Allon took the precious little time he had to shower away his mild hangover. Stopping for his morning joe might have taken too long, and he had a feeling doughnuts wouldn’t help if he was even a minute late, so he’d hauled ass to arrive ten minutes early.
To his eternal irritation, Chelle had already been waiting in the conference room. She’d glanced up when he entered the room and continued glaring at him wordlessly as he sat across from her. Even with their tipsy truce in place, the animosity between them blazed like an inferno—as did the lust. With each surly look from Chelle, Allon wanted nothing more than to strip down and take her, right there on the conference room table. Judging by their history, it was a good bet she felt the same. Thankfully, they had their little agreement to keep them from embarrassing themselves any further.
He wanted to ask what she was doing there, since Charlie had no jurisdiction over her, but figured he’d find out soon enough. He also suspected neither of them would be happy once the meeting ended. Of course, it didn’t take a psychic to figure that out. It wasn’t like Charlie was going to give them kudos for letting Danque escape…twice.
The door to the room cracked open and Tessa’s smiling face appeared. Her cheeks were rosy and serenity practically rolled off her in nauseating waves. She’d probably had her coffee—no doubt after doing yoga with Alice. He could have sworn he’d spotted the pair performing all sorts of contortions on the roof early one morning, but if he’d asked her about it, she invariably would have strong-armed him into joining them. He shuddered at the thought.
“Morning,” she chimed cheerily. “Can I get either of you something to drink?”
Allon opened his mouth to ask for coffee when Chelle butted ahead. “Whatchya got?”
Tessa’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, I have some amazing kombucha made from my very own scoby that will do wonders for your gut health. I also have some lovely matcha, as well as some very healthful yerba mate. I even brought in some gourds and bombillas to drink it.”
Chelle stared blankly at Tessa for a moment and then turned and spoke to Allon for the first time that morning. “Is she speaking English?”
Allon rolled his eyes, unwilling to admit he’d understood Tessa’s offerings all too well. The hazards of living in LA. “Two black coffees, please.”
Disappointment flashed in Tessa’s eyes briefly, before she smiled and hurried off to fetch their drinks. Chelle turned an indignant look on him.
“How dare you—”
Allon held up a hand to stop her. “Trust me, you’ll thank me.”
She opened her mouth to argue but Charlie swept into the room without so much as meeting either of their gazes. Calmly moving to the head of the table, he gently set down a thick folder with one hand and a cup of steaming matcha tea with the other. A light seaweedy smell wafted toward them and Chelle wrinkled her nose. Allon gave her a look that said, See?
Charlie removed his reading glasses and took his time folding them neatly as he took his seat. Several silent, uncomfortable moments passed as he simply looked between the two. His expression was implacable, almost serene, which Allon knew was a bad sign.
“A record,” he finally said softly. So softly, Chelle leaned forward to hear better.
“What was that?” she asked.
Charlie leveled his gaze on her, and even though she had no experience with him, goosebumps broke out on her arms and she started fidgeting.
“I said, a record, Ms. Calidi. Losing a fugitive twice in a single day must be some kind of record.”
“Char—”Allon started but his boss continued on.
“Danque Anguis is a violent man wanted for multiple counts of murder, not to mention bank robbery, and he has now evaded capture by a Wildridge specialist twice. Unfortunately, that’s not the kind of reputation I’ve worked twenty-five years to build. In fact, it’s the kind that could destroy us completely.”
“It won’t happen again,” Allon started, but the way Charlie’s pupils slitted stopped him cold.
“That’s what you said yesterday, Mr. Wyvern, yet…here we are.”
“No, he’s right,” Chelle added, an urgency in her tone. At least she was taking this seriously. “Look, this guy is a slimy bastard, but he’s panicked and making stupid mistakes. We—”
“Precisely,” Charlie snapped, “and panicked fugitives commit murder.”
“We’ve got a handle on this already, boss,” Allon said, leaning toward Charlie, desperate for him to believe them. And not just because of the massive bounty on Danque’s head.
“Do you?” Charlie arched an eyebrow. “Because a certain motel manager has a very different story.”
Chelle snorted and crossed her arms. “That guy was a few cards short of a full deck. He has no idea what he’s talking about.”
“No? So are you telling me that snooping in customers’ cars, screaming about an escaped snake, and fondling each other isn’t an accurate description of what happened last night?”
Chelle shifted awkwardly under his scrutiny “We had som
e…personal issues we had to work out,” she admitted with more than a hint of defensiveness.
“We’ve come to an agreement, though,” Allon explained, since Chelle didn’t seem capable. “We’ve put our competition on hold until Danque Anguis is in custody. No more sabotaging each other. Hashed it all out over drinks last night.”
“Well, isn’t that an encouraging step?” Charlie’s unsettling smile didn’t fool Allon. “And one that’s altogether too late, I’m afraid. Lives are at stake. You were entrusted with a tremendous responsibility, but clearly it was too much to ask of you both. Now I must take measures into my own hands.”
“Meaning?” Chelle’s tone was downright belligerent.
“Meaning,” Charlie replied, unfazed, “that I’ve had a word with your employer at Skypoint Security and we’ve agreed to a solution to the problem. Since it’s clear neither of you can capture the fugitive on your own, you two will work together going forward.”
Irritation bloomed in Allon’s face. “But, Charlie—”
“And since Wildridge and Skypoint are partnering on this case, any bounty we receive will be split evenly between our two organizations.”
Charlie sat back and watched their faces as the meaning of this announcement sank in. Specialists working on a bounty case always received a bonus based on the amount of the bounty. If Wildridge and Skypoint split the bounty, that effectively halved their bonus—assuming their bosses would give it to them after their royal fuck-ups.
“Bullshit!” Chelle slammed her fist on the table and rose halfway out of her seat. “That’s fucking with my pay for the work I do when I catch Danque.”
Charlie narrowed his eyes at her. “I thought you were no longer competing. Besides, I think the offer is very generous, considering the fact that firing you both would certainly be more appropriate.”
Allon’s chest clenched at the suggestion. He couldn’t disagree, but he loved his job intensely. He’d been born for it, and getting axed from one of the top agencies in the world wouldn’t look good on his résumé. Having his bonus reduced wasn’t exactly welcome, but better than unemployment. Apparently, Chelle didn’t agree.