The Matchmaker's Mark

by Black, Regan

  "You delivered the flowers."

  "Yes." He smothered the urge to snap at her. She was hurt and confused and if her eyes were any indication, her life had just taken a drastic turn. For better or worse? Probably both. "Did you get the letter?"

  "Yes. I put it in my bag." She glanced around, gingerly this time. "That one there." She pointed to the one closest to him. "Is it normal for stalkers to take stuff as well as the person?"

  "I'm not a stalker," he said through clenched teeth. He reached down and rooted through the bag, ignoring her protests. Finding it, he scanned it quickly and breathed a sigh of relief as he replaced the letter. "So she wrote to you often of her work?"

  "Well sure. We –"

  Dare slid into the automatic motions of emergency protocol. "Can you walk? We need to get out of here." Once she was safe from the rogue werewolf and humans were safe from her, he could find out what the hell was going on.

  "Why are we in a closet?"

  "We're leaving the closet." He opened the door a crack and listened for a moment. Turning back he whispered, "You'll lean on me and follow my lead."

  "Not until – "

  "You want to wait around for that guy to come back?" It was an empty threat, at least he hoped so, but he was pleased when her eyes went wide with fear. "You have to trust me. Your Aunt C – " he choked on the words – "Your Aunt Camille has relied on me for years."

  "Prove it."

  Damned, stubborn Campbell women. "How?"

  "She said she burned a bridge lately. With what client?"

  "A full-blooded troll with zero manners," he began, cringing at the memory of setting fire to the town's oldest bridge. He'd exhausted himself making it look like an inferno, while keeping the damage minimal.

  "Okay. I'll come with you."

  That was all she needed? Obviously Camille had been sharing more than he'd thought, but it wasn't his place to question the Matchmaker, former or present. His heart clutched. "Great. Stay close, no matter what happens."

  She wobbled, but found her balance with only a brief touch from him. He wished he could offer a stronger shield, but he was tired and worried and only had the bare minimum left in him. It would have to be enough.

  Muttering at the chaos just outside the building, Dare wished once more for a quiet forest.

  Awake, a Matchmaker's power would swamp everyone and only tangle up the egress. In the past, he'd used his talent to shield the Matchmaker, but never alone after such a draining experience. Desperate, he moved from one patch of clear sidewalk to the next.

  "Ow! The sun hurts my eyes."

  "Just another minute," he said when Amy's hands clutched his arm, knuckles going white.

  Trees and power aside, he'd have an easier time of it if she was asleep. But making several people see her walking upright was easier than making several people see her walking upright while he carried her. Common sense, really.

  For the first time in memory, he wished he was some place crowded like New York City with cabs eager for a fare. With Amy weakening, he paused at a corner and looked around for options.

  "Y'all need a lift?"

  Dare stared at the lanky kid and his bicycle rickshaw. Even if the kid could only manage a couple blocks it would help. "Sure." As long as Amy's amorous effect didn't have him biking them straight into the nearest bikini-clad gelato girl they might just make it. Dare helped Amy into the cab and settled himself next to her as he gave the kid directions.

  Chapter Three

  My dearest Amy,

  Have I told you I'm headed next to Scotland, home of our beloved Campbell matriarchs? I might even get to visit the cottage of the original prophecy. If your mother's never told you, surely Nan did. It's such a wonderful story and from what I remember it's an even more wonderful area. The peace and quiet of the loch calls to me, it would be so nice if we could visit together sometime. It is so vital to know your roots, but I'd best stop preaching.

  I'm working with some timeless characters on this next project, but I feel confident we'll come to terms.

  Your loving aunt,

  Camille

  Lily was up to her elbows in another batch of long-stemmed roses, stripping thorns and bruised petals before plunging them into the cutter for a fresh cut. The swift thunk of the blade through the woody stems had been good therapy for her dark mood. She could hardly serve her customers for the scowl that fought for control of her features. These roses, once cleaned, were destined to join the others in a heavy vase near the register where they could tempt an impulsive buyer. Smiling at the hot pink buds, she gave them her best boost of happy.

  As if on cue, the bell over her front door rang out. "I'll be right there." Happy thoughts, she coached herself, drying her hands on her apron. Sibling irritation evaporated at the sight of female company. "Maeve!" She beamed. "And you brought Guinness." Delighted she knelt to give the greyhound kisses. "What a great surprise."

  "Amy said you were okay with him in the shop."

  "Of course I am. Where's your friend?"

  "I'm not sure. It's one reason I'm here." Maeve placed a vase of sunflowers on the counter.

  Lily stood up, watching Maeve search for words. "Hey, those look familiar," she said, recognizing the sunflowers from the night before. Her birthmark tingled, but she ignored it. "How did you get them?"

  "They were delivered to Amy this morning. Waiting for her in our office."

  Lily snorted. "Mom's birthday dinner."

  "Huh?" Maeve stared at her.

  "That's what the guy said who bought them last night."

  "You remember him?"

  "Sure." Maeve's nerves were rubbing off on Guinness. His ears were back and his eyes flickered between the women with a worried expression. Lily stroked his neck and let him lean against her thigh. Ignoring the sunflowers on the counter, she invited Maeve and Guinness into the back room. "Have a seat," she said, pulling out a stool for her friend. "What do you want to know?"

  "Name, address, credit card number." Maeve rattled it off with a lopsided grin, but Lily didn't miss the tense undercurrents.

  "Sorry. It was cash and carry right after closing." She unrolled a package of yellow roses to keep her hands busy and away from her mark.

  "So you didn't arrange for a delivery to the school office before hours today?"

  "Absolutely impossible. He must have delivered them himself."

  "That's what I was afraid of." Maeve twisted and untwisted Guinness' leash. "What else can you tell me?"

  "Not much." And Lily regretted it now. "He looked nice enough. Gave me the line about Mom's birthday dinner and I gave him the flowers. Didn't Amy like them?"

  "No. I don't think so. I mean, the flowers were fine, but something's wrong," Maeve said. "I think I've met the guy, but I can't recall what he looks like."

  Lucky woman. Lily could only get his face out of her mind if she focused on her irritation with Cade. "What's Amy think?" She leaned on the cutter handle and apologized when the noise startled the dog.

  "I wish I knew," Maeve muttered.

  Finished, Lily eyed the collection of roses in the vase. Just enough color variety with pinks, reds, and this pale yellow the wholesaler had needed to unload. She moved the vase to the sales counter and picked up the vase of sunflowers. Her mark sizzled beneath her sleeve with such intensity she nearly dropped the arrangement. It took all her control not to yank up her sleeve and investigate.

  Instead, she turned back to Maeve. "Aside from the creepy level of access, why is a personal delivery so bad?"

  Maeve marked her points with her fingers. "One, he bypassed security and a locked door. Two, I think he stopped by my house yesterday. Three, I think he's kidnapped Amy."

  "What? Have you called the police?" She could have Jim here taking a statement in minutes.

  "No. I can't prove anything." Maeve curled in on herself, resting her head on her hands. "I'm so confused."

  Lily had never seen Maeve undone by any circumstance. Guinness nosed at
her arm and she patted his head, but the dog wasn't convinced all was well. "Why are you thinking kidnapping?"

  "It's been such a weird day, Lily. I feel as if big chunks of it are missing. I wanted croissants this morning and when we got to the office we had croissants, but I don't remember stopping at the bakery. For some bizarre-o reason Amy's wearing funky contacts. She never does anything funky. She's always been stable, steady, Amy. But after class there was this guy, such a hot guy, I guess I lost my head. Who knows since I can't remember squat. Can being horny cause blackouts? I didn't feel overly in need this morning, but it has been awhile."

  Lily smothered a laugh. Aside from the memory thing, Maeve was all about having fun with an attractive guy. "So the hot guy kidnapped Amy?"

  "No. The potential kidnapper would be Mr. Flowers-Not-For-Mom." Maeve glared at the sunflowers. "I have this vague memory of him in the office, with Amy. Then I told myself to go call for an ambulance. The office phone had been yanked out of the wall and I couldn't use my cell because, well because I don't know why. Another missing piece. When I went back neither of them were there.

  "Amy's just gone, she hasn't called or sent a text or anything. She wouldn't do that, wouldn't yank me around for a guy. She wouldn't leave Guinness for anything. The EMTs were not amused to arrive and find no patient, though thankfully the whole security detail was in an uproar over some guy in the stairwell, so they blamed the false call on bystander overkill and didn't haul me to jail or the psych ward. Of course with all the commotion, security didn't see Amy leave and now here I am."

  "Oh, honey." Lily was at a loss for any comforting words. "Was the guy in the stairwell hot?"

  Maeve snorted and almost smiled. "Probably. I bet he was a fitness magazine cover model and my brain's rebelling and blocking him out."

  Lily shot a look at the vase and offered up a quick thank you for a cash transaction at the door. It sounded like Mr. Flowers-Not-For-Mom was serious trouble. What might have happened if she'd let him inside?

  The squeaky hinge on the back door had both women and the greyhound turning to see Cade walking in. "Oh. Um. Hey. Everything okay?"

  "Girl talk," Lily snapped. "And we're not serving snacks." Cade gave her the annoyed big brother glare and headed upstairs. "Chicken!" She rolled her eyes as he retreated.

  "Long story," Lily said to Maeve, waiting for the inevitable comments about Cade being hot, but Maeve was looking at her phone.

  "If she'd just call me."

  Maeve squeezed the device so hard Lily thought it might crack. She covered Maeve's hands with her own. "Hey. I've got a friend or two in the police department. Do you want me to ask –"

  The phone suddenly chimed the arrival of a text message. "Oh! It's her." Maeve pushed a button and scowled. "It better be her. If someone's making her do this, I'll tear them apart."

  Maeve's expression ran the gamut from worry to irritation to finally relief as she read the text.

  "What is it?"

  "Camille's assistant." Maeve took a deep breath and smiled at Lily. "It's all right." She jumped up and pulled Lily into a big hug. Guinness' tail thumped against the work counter as he celebrated with them. Maeve released Lily and bent down to cradle his face. "Your mommy's okay," she crooned.

  "Amy's safe," Lily clarified.

  "Yeah." Maeve slumped back onto the chair. "Sorta. It's not okay, but it's not anything bad. The flower guy's not a kidnapper. He's okay." Maeve flicked her fingers at the vase of sunflowers. "Well as okay as anyone can be working for Amy's aunt. Thanks for listening, Lily." She gave Lily another hug. "You could run a bar if the florist thing doesn't work out."

  Lily watched the whirlwind that was Maeve rush out of the shop with Guinness in her wake, and paused to take a breath. Relieved to know all was well, she studied the sunflowers and thought of the man who'd bought them. She felt an odd twinge of regret knowing she wouldn't see him again. Stupid. Something was off when a woman wanted a guy who'd gotten around her with an obvious line.

  Maybe she was reaching the desperate point on the vacation thing.

  Flipping open her florist knife, she plucked a perfect sunflower out of the vase and considered a new arrangement for the window display. Try as she might, she continued to wonder about him as she worked, cursing her troubling curiosity.

  "You got paid. Be grateful," she muttered as she perused her storage shelves for the right containers.

  "What was that all about?" Cade demanded.

  Lily screamed and spun around, knife at the ready. "Stop sneaking up on me!"

  "I'm not sneaking, you're just jumpy." He went through a slow motion maneuver, showing her the block and disarm move he would've used if she'd been a real threat. "What was wrong with your friend?"

  She reclaimed her knife, pressing her lips together to keep her opinions and the urge to punch him locked inside. Since he was several years, more likely decades older than her, any sort of combat with him had always been an exercise in futility.

  "Nothing. Girl talk, like I said. She was just having a rough day." She swiped her damp palms over her apron. "You promised to pull your weight around here," she snapped. He didn't look itchy, so her poison ivy wish hadn't done him any harm. "You can start by picking up after yourself. The couch is common ground."

  "It's my bed at the moment."

  She smiled with an overdose of sweet. "Doesn't have to be."

  Cade turned away, mumbling about moody females. She took her time staring at container options on the shelves. "Do you have any appointments this afternoon?" she called, listening to the prolonged silence that meant he was debating his answer. Saying 'no' left him with no excuse but to help her and saying 'yes' meant he had to leave. She'd really like a few minutes alone. Cade was wonderful, but he'd stop breathing before he'd stop doing the protective big brother routine.

  "Well?" She put the containers on the counter and pulled a piece of fresh floral foam from the pile soaking in the sink.

  "Yeah. I should go see about a few things." He glared at her when she smirked. "And you can stop nagging. I'll take you out for dinner."

  "Sounds great. See you later." With the sunflowers making her 'jumpy', she'd be happier re-designing them without a grumpy big brother as a witness.

  ~*~

  Dare watched Amy closely as she dozed in fits and starts. He'd settled her on the bed for lack of a better place and did what he could for the knot on her head. Now it was just a waiting game and he kept his place across the room at the table, hoping she wouldn't jump to the wrong conclusion when she woke up.

  He wasn't after anything other than the truth. Which led him to shake his phone as if the motion would pop loose a reply to his many questions. Gilly hadn't given him anything useful, saying only the Matchmaker had gone for a walk and not returned.

  He knew Camille would never be so rash as to go out without a guard, but clearly Team Two wasn't Team One for a reason. He didn't care that his assessment was harsh or even unfair. The Matchmaker he'd sworn to protect had fallen into an unknown fate.

  It didn't much matter who or what had defeated Camille. Imprisonment or death, Amy's eyes confirmed the Matchmaker's power was quickly shifting to her. Had already shifted to her. The werewolf's appearance and confrontation confirmed other creatures were sensing it too. Which meant Amy needed the Matchmaker's book. The only permanent record of agreements, bonds, and barters, as well as well as tips for dealing with things like trolls determined to stay single, the book was vital to Amy's survival and success.

  He went to her bag and once more read the letter from aunt to niece, poring over every detail, reading between every line. Had Camille suspected an attack? The letter was far too candid in his opinion and he was more than a little perturbed to see the Matchmaker's disregard for decent security measures.

  His three attempts to phone Camille since he and Amy had safely reached the hotel had gone unanswered. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, eager for any direction to focus his search for Camille. When his ce
ll phone buzzed against the table he snapped it up, ever hopeful. The text message was from Gilly:

  No book here. Heading to the office. When will you be in?

  Crap. Gilly was nothing but thorough and efficient. If she couldn't find the book, it wasn't in Camille's office. And Camille's letter all but said she'd sent the book to Amy. It chilled him to think of such a vital treasure circling the globe without an armed escort. If the secrets inside that book fell into the wrong hands...he just couldn't go there. As for the coded portion of Gilly's text, well, he couldn't go there either. The safe house wasn't an option until he knew the new Matchmaker and the book were safely together.

  Amy woke from a fitful dream about an angry troll stomping out a fiery bridge. Relief was immediate, until she realized she wasn't in her own bed with Guinness warming her feet. She wasn't in the guest room at Maeve's place either.

  She blinked a few times, bringing the ceiling into better focus, though it didn't reveal any profound information. The fabric under her hands screamed standard, mid-priced hotel, but it was an improvement over a bucket in the janitor's closet. Hopefully.

  Just pushing herself upright left her head reeling. She smoothed her hair back and groaned as her fingers grazed the lump, causing another wave of pain.

  "Easy there," the not-a-delivery man warned from across the room. "Would you like ice?"

  "Are all stalkers so thoughtful?"

  He grunted, but any real words were lost in the scrape and rattle of ice into a bag. "Here."

  Peering at him, she realized he was standing at the absolute limit of his reach. She accepted the ice, and used the wall to hold it in place while she gathered her thoughts. "How long have I been out?"

  "A couple hours," he said, returning to his chair across the room. "You should let your friend know you're okay and ask her to bring your things here."

  She didn't bother to dignify that. No way was she staying in a strange man's hotel room any longer than necessary. There was only so much latitude she could extend to her aunt's security specialist. Guinness needed her. Her class expected her.