Romancing Austin

by Riley Bancroft, Evelyn Berry, Cara Carnes, Jax Garren, Irene Preston, Rebecca Royce, Chandra Ryan

  Of course, if Cash fired him for insubordination he’d lose even that.

  Cash placed the book in his joke of a backseat, then pulled a tablet and stylus from the door. “You’ve claimed you have perfect recall. You have until we get to my place to prove it.”

  Alex took the instruments with a raised brow. Cash had figured out his plan? Must be why he hadn’t stopped him. “That was a lot of trust in me when no one has any.”

  The car purred as it started, then sped from the lot. “Taking you on a mission is trust. Letting you rip three pages out of a book isn’t. It’s hope you didn’t run your mouth where your deeds can’t follow. Get writing.”

  Alex visualized the first page of the book, turned it right side up in his head, and started writing. Picture recall was a trick he’d been able to do since he was a kid. It wasn’t perfect, and the memory rarely lasted past twenty-four hours, but he’d practiced until he could keep the memories longer and with finer detail. As a human spy, his job had relied on it. “The pages are in code.” The letters came out gibberish as he wrote exactly what he saw in his mental image.

  Cash grabbed the book while keeping one hand on the wheel. “Shit. Are you sure you remember that nonsense correctly?”

  “I remember the way the letters look. I don’t remember the letters. It doesn’t have to make sense.”

  As they sailed off into the hills of west Austin, he kept writing, his mind churning over the lines and spaces. Two hundred years ago, in Louisiana, they had spoken a French-Choctaw blend that, at least for the French half, more closely resembled the mother tongue in his day than the strange French they spoke in Paris today. He’d be able to read a good portion of the content once decoded. It shouldn’t be hard to decipher either.

  By the time Cash pulled into his—Alex did a double take—Mediterranean-style mansion on the hillside, Alex was ready.

  Cash parked in the four-car garage next to a bright yellow Pontiac Firebird.

  Seriously, Alex didn’t need a four-car garage and an Aston Martin. Not that he’d complain about the Aston. As it stood, though, he couldn’t buy Sofia flowers and still afford tickets to the movies, and it bothered him.

  “So?” Cash asked as he shut off the car.

  Alex handed him the tablet. “Done.”

  Cash took it warily. “How sure of your accuracy are you?”

  “I do not know Choctaw or the African-derived words, but fortunately most of Cajun is French.”

  Cash glanced at it, back to Alex, then at the tablet again. “But it was in gibberish.”

  He shrugged. “The cipher was fairly simple.”

  The look of wonder Cash gave made him proud.

  “I have a date tonight. Will you be offended if I leave around ten thirty?”

  Cash grabbed the book, his awe shifting to a sly smile. “A date? With whom?” He smiled wider. “Sofia Velasquez?”

  Alex frowned. “How did you…?”

  “There are a lot of vampires who aren’t happy about me including you on sensitive missions, but I don’t go on boring ones, so if I’m going to watch you in action, it’s not going to be traffic duty.”

  Alex exited his own side. He hadn’t realized Cash had taken a personal interest in his career. Sure, Alex had gotten to go on some interesting runs. He’d assumed it was because… Actually, he hadn’t thought much about it. He’d been happy to leave his room and make a little money and hadn’t asked why.

  Cash handed him the book. “If you do it, I probably know about it, and you spend every Thursday evening in the same place.” He headed for the door to his house. “Sofia’s sweet. Don’t fuck up things at CoVIn by giving her a reason to complain. The jaguars are our allies.”

  Alex grimaced as he followed. “I have no intention of it.”

  Cash nodded but didn’t open the door. “Then happy hunting.”

  Hunting? That was what you said to someone who was looking for a dinner date, as in a date to bite. Alex set his jaw. “CoVIn has decreed I and the others are not allowed to bite anyone outside the confines of an approved blood brothel.” Where there would be reports if anyone got overly fang-happy. “No violence, no weapons, no use of command. We’re muzzled.”

  The other man leaned casually against the door. “Yeah… and you have no money to spend at brothels. I can get behind no killing. If I have to restrain myself from axing those who annoy me, everyone else does too. No tapping a vein? That’s asinine. We’re vampires.” He opened the door. “Jaguars heal quickly. Unless you plan on taking a bite in public, I’m not sure how anyone would know. Text if you need me to say you crashed here.”

  Alex followed him inside, feeling freer than he had in months. He wasn’t getting fired. He was getting… treated like a friend. “You’re not worried about what I’ll do?”

  “You incapacitated a raging witch by tearing pages out of a book. No. I’m not worried you’re too violent for polite society.”

  Cash Geirson trusted him. Alex wasn’t sure what that faith meant for his delicate status in CoVIn; Cash didn’t get to make all the decisions. But for the first time since he’d transitioned, it seemed he had a real shot at a new life—a date with Sofia and a tentative friendship with Cash. It was a really good day.

  3

  Sofia dabbed gloss onto the center of her lower lip, ready to knock Alex out. The song ended, injecting a moment’s silence into the rock-out blare. Her refrigerator opened and shut.

  Her shoulders tensed. She’d never been robbed, and the fridge wasn’t what she imagined anyone hitting first. Still, someone was in her house. Another song came on, and she lowered the volume.

  Two bottle caps snicked open. Shit. She closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose, and counted to three.

  “Miguel?” She headed for the kitchenette. Sure enough, her ex was there with two of her Coronas, looking mighty at home. His jeans were pressed, his flannel buttoned only at the top over a crisp white shirt. A bandanna reined in his longish hair. He looked good. Normally she didn’t mind Miguel popping by to say hello; they were still friends. Today was not normally.

  He whistled low, an old light in his brown eyes. “Whoa, mija. Got a date? Who’s the lucky guy? Sure it can’t be me?”

  She rolled her eyes and gave him a hug. “No time for a beer. As you said, I’ve got a date. Whatever you’re here for, it’s going to have to wait.”

  The troubled frown on his face said it wouldn’t. He pushed the beer toward her. “I was going to wheedle you, but I won’t keep you. I hear you managed an invitation to the party of a certain douchebag rocker verging on a comeback.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she took a nervous sip. If he had intended to wheedle, she wasn’t going to like it. If he was willing to cut the wheedling, he didn’t think she could say no. Marcos… “Yeah. I’m pretty excited about it. Why do you ask?”

  “Let me come along.”

  She set her bottle down. There was only one reason why he’d go to a rock star’s party, and it involved white powder. “No.”

  He came around the bar, voice too sweet. “Come on, hyna, you don’t have to do anything. Just get me in.”

  She retreated as he advanced, waving her hands. “No. No. And no. I’m not your hyna anymore, and I told you. I’m not covering for you. Ever again.”

  The doorbell rang. Alex was here, and her drug-dealing ex-boyfriend was drinking her beer. She headed for the door, not sure if she was more excited to usher Miguel out or Alex in.

  Miguel switched to Spanish. “Your dues are late, Sofia.”

  She stopped, hand on the doorknob. Familia de Tejas jaguars paid dues to stay under Marcos’s protection from entities less scrupulous than the cartels. Jaguars could work off the payments instead, like Miguel did, by going into the business. When they’d been together, right out of high school, she’d never paid for protection by virtue of everyone assuming they’d marry. When she’d decided to move out, the dues had started.

  Paying was worth the price. The Liber
i crawled Austin looking for prey. Many a spell was powered by shifter blood. Jaguar pelts were worth a small fortune on the black market. But most creatures thought twice before coming after them when they knew revenge would come knocking in the form of a pack of ferocious weres. She was strong, but it took spectacular strength or a willingness to live on the road to survive outside the protection of family.

  This month the transmission had died in her car—it was still in the shop waiting for two hundred dollars—and her personal massage table had taken an unfortunate tumble down a staircase. She’d had to buy a new one or lose income from private gigs. And now, in asking Alex out, she may have lost a regular client. She didn’t have the money. Not if she planned on eating for the next month, and unlike her human coworkers, jaguars couldn’t survive on cheap noodles. She answered Miguel in Spanish, though she’d be surprised if Alex couldn’t speak it. Most vampires with any age on them were multilingual. “I emailed him. It’s been a rough month.”

  Miguel was right behind her, hand on her shoulder. “Your forthrightness is why I could convince him I’d make enough at the party to be a fair trade. Marcos likes you. It’s a good deal. Get me in. I’ll do the rest. Details are here if you want them. I know how much you like to be in the loop.” Miguel held out a folded note. “Or you can recycle it and not know.”

  The doorbell rang again. Alex and the happy excitement of ten minutes ago seemed so far away, despite him being on the other side of the door.

  “Don’t be so sad, mija. Let the rich kids have their fun and don’t worry about it.”

  Despite how movies liked to portray drug dealers, Miguel was a good guy. Kind to his friends, never violent, never pushy with his clients, and he never coerced or took trades, only hard cash for a sale. Her problem wasn’t with him or even with worry for what happened to his clients. Occasional users rarely came to bad ends over drugs. Her problem was with the system. It was all connected, every step along the chain of violence, from farmer to user, from mule to don, from dealer to the woman standing by him who pretended her home didn’t come with a price paid in blood and coca leaves. One of these days, a line some kid did off a bathroom counter in Houston was going to be the reason her parents died in Colombia. When she couldn’t deny the trail of culpability anymore, she’d walked away.

  “You’re thinking too much again.” He was close enough that she could smell his aftershave of lime and musk. “And you have no pockets.” A flash of smile. “Guess I have to do this.” He stuck the note into her cleavage and leaned in until his lips practically touched her ear. “I’m going to be jealous tonight.”

  Before she could stop him, he opened the door.

  Alex stood on her doormat, looking luscious in a green V-neck sweater and holding a red rose and a bottle of actual Champagne. Her stomach flipped, and she almost bit her lip before remembering the five minutes she’d spent making them red and glossy. No lip biting tonight.

  Unless he was the one doing it.

  She elbowed Miguel to give her some space, unsure what sort of picture they made. He was her past. She didn’t know if a future with Alex was possible, but she didn’t want to ruin the chance on a mistaken impression.

  After the briefest glance at Miguel, Alex focused his gaze on her. His eyes took her in slowly as his lips curled in a rare grin.

  “Gringo vampire,” Miguel commented. “Really Sofia?”

  She elbowed him again, harder. “Alex, this is my… cousin, Miguel. Miguel, my date, Alex.”

  Miguel reached over the threshold. “Second cousin through adoption.

  “Oh, good lord.” Could his tone sound any more possessive?

  Alex shook his hand without comment.

  Miguel, however, didn’t stay silent. “The lack of blood relationship doesn’t mean I and the rest of the family won’t kick your ass if you don’t treat her right. ¿Comprendes, güey?”

  She shoved him out the door. “Yes. Alex gets it. You think you’re a badass. Now vete, vato. It’s my date. You’re not going on it.”

  Miguel laughed and let her foist him out the door. “Hasta mañana, hyna.”

  “I’m not your hyna.”

  He shot her a serious look. “Nine thirty tomorrow. I’ll come get you since your wheels are in the shop.” He started walking backward toward the stairs to the parking lot of her little apartment complex. “Hey, Rafi owes me a favor. Let me know if you want me to call it in.” Rafael ran the garage where her car was currently on ice. The only reason they’d let her store it there while she floundered for the money to pay him was because they were both Familia de Tejas.

  “It’s cool. Save your favors for when you need them.” The weather was nice, and she could bike to work and anywhere else necessary. If Miguel needed a favor, it could mean life or death.

  With a wink, he turned to go.

  She stood in the threshold, emotions in turmoil as she turned from the realities of life to the possibilities in front of her. Alex had chosen his soul. She’d thought she had too when she’d walked away from Miguel. It looked like she hadn’t walked far enough. Truth was, it wasn’t the first month she couldn’t pay. Last time, when Abuela Elana had needed extra money for medical bills, Sofia had fought with the jaguars in the atrium battle in exchange for dues, but non-drug-business opportunities didn’t come along every month. She was barely scraping by, and her grandmother’s expenses weren’t getting any cheaper. A “free ride” this month via Miguel wasn’t a one-off. It was stepping on the merry-go-round, and she knew it. She’d done the math, and it added up to any month with an extra expense was a month she couldn’t afford. “Sorry about him. Family business.”

  Alex’s eyebrows lifted in concern, but he didn’t come forward. “Everything okay?”

  How badly could she lie? She shrugged. “Eh, same old same old.” And wasn’t that the truth. She left the door open for him to come in and headed toward her bedroom. “My purse is still in my room. Do we need to hustle, or do we have a few minutes?”

  “We have a few minutes.” He looked curiously around the little open-plan space she called home. A door off to the right separated a tiny room, barely spacious enough for her double bed. The place wasn’t much, but she kept it clean and had made it cheerful with colorful prints on the walls and an afghan Abuela Elana had knitted. She wondered what he thought of it all. Vampires always had money coming out their asses.

  Must be nice.

  Alex cleared his throat. “May I come in?”

  He stood on the threshold, still holding the wine and rose. She’d forgotten she needed to invite him in. Shifters could cross the doorway without an invitation, but they lost their ability to shift until they were officially welcomed in. Usually official invitations were only issued for family and close friends. Vampires, like demons, were an all or nothing species; either they had their full arsenal inside your house or they couldn’t come in at all. It felt intimate to formally welcome him in on their first date, but the other option was to leave him waiting on the balcony of the complex. She returned to the door, letting her hips sway in her tight skirt with each step. “Is the rose for me?”

  He tipped the flower across the threshold, where his hands were denied access, and caressed the petals over her forehead and nose. “Yes.”

  Her breath caught at the sensual feel and smell. She took the stem, and he relinquished it to her. “Then Alexandre Moreau, I welcome you into my home.” She didn’t move as he stepped in, bringing them chest to chest.

  “It’s good to be here.” His gaze traveled over her face and then dipped, lingering on her chest.

  She considered teasing him for it until he pulled Miguel’s note from where it had been stuck. “Oh. Damn. I forgot about that.”

  He unfolded it and glanced at both sides.

  “Gimme. My note.” Not that it mattered. He’d barely looked at it, and anything incriminating would be encoded.

  He handed it back. “Pardonnez-moi. I fear you’ll find I’m insatiably curious about you.”
He wrapped a tendril of her hair around his finger and set the wine on the counter. “You seemed so sad when I got here. Is there anything I can do?”

  She looked away. He was so good. He’d chosen his soul.

  He took her hand and kissed it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad again.”

  The kiss on the hand was nice, but she hadn’t had her usual greeting yet, and she wanted it. She planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, breathing in the comforting masculinity of tobacco and sandalwood.

  His hands dropped to her waist, a more intimate position than they ever took in the studio.

  Another kiss on the other cheek. Instead of backing away, his head tilted to rest against hers. “You can ask me anything, and I will do my best. You have done more for me than you can know.”

  She leaned away to look into his eyes. His face was full of storms, and he sounded so serious. “I’m a good therapist, but nobody’s that good.”

  He opened his mouth as if he’d tell her something. If they were sharing secrets, maybe she’d share hers. It would be good to get it off her chest.

  Then he might offer to pay for her, though, and she couldn’t accept money from him now that they were going out. It might be wrong, but she’d rather take Miguel to the party than mix sex and money.

  She didn’t have to decide. Instead of sharing some dark secret, he merely said, “Just know you can ask. I owe you, and I don’t know how to repay.”

  “Champagne and a horror flick are a good way to go.”

  Another one of his smiles like a ray of sunshine in the gloom. “I’ll put it in the icebox for later.” He took the bottle to her refrigerator.

  Icebox? He’d accidentally used a word from the early twentieth century. He must be at least one hundred years old. He bent over to slide the wine in, the movement outlining his tight glutes beneath his chinos. She’d seen them naked already, pale, smooth skin over perfectly shaped muscles, but then he was a client on a table. In her kitchen, bent over as he sorted through her leftovers to make space, he was all man. Desire rose through her fiercely, setting her skin tingling and her breath on edge. She could probably have him tonight, too.