Sinfully Delicious: Six Scintillating Stories of Sweets, Treats, and Happily Ever Afters

by Gauthier, Crystal L.

  In the silence that followed, the microwave beeped again.

  Blue got up, retrieved her dinner. But when she came back, it sat on her lap, untouched. She chewed a fingernail instead. From the way her eyes narrowed, he could tell her brain’s teeth were dug in, a dog worrying the information like a bone. Better she let it go. But he knew she wouldn’t. Not without help. He’d have to cut her free of this mess.

  “I’ll get out of here sometime tomorrow,” he said.

  Her head snapped up.

  “It’s best if I keep moving. Makes me harder to find,” he explained.

  She frowned. “It doesn’t seem that anyone is looking.”

  “If Dragić is smart, and so far he seems to be, he’ll want to be sure I’m out of the picture. He’ll look.”

  She stabbed her food, but still didn’t eat it. “You ought to stay here.”

  He blinked. He hadn’t expected the offer. No, that wasn’t true. He’d desperately wanted it, but that was a foolish, dangerous bargain to strike.

  “Why are you helping me?” The question came out before he could stop it. He shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t care, should have killed the conversation off with a simple: “No.”

  She didn’t answer right away, sat thoughtful. “That night at the bus station, you could have killed me. You were suppose d to kill me. But you didn’t.” Her black eyes came up to meet his, held them with their endless intensity. “Why?”

  Because of the courage she’d shown in the face of fear. Because the way her chin went up with determination made him smile. Because of how each scar on her body screamed that she deserved to be more than a smudge on a bathroom floor.

  Because her beauty captivated him. Because he would never tire of her face, her voice. Because he couldn’t imagine her gone. Couldn’t fathom the next day when she wouldn’t be there.

  Because he loved her.

  But a shadow didn’t say those things to a mortal. Shouldn’t even conceive of them. So he buried them before they could see light. “You weren’t a threat.”

  After a moment, Blue’s gaze dropped back to her food, her head nodding, accepting the lie. “And for that, I…owe you.”

  The words hit him like a fist to the gut. She owed him. She would help him because her moral compass pointed in that direction, said it was the right thing to do.

  Not desire. Not want.

  Obligation.

  He should be happy that it wasn’t something so foolish as love that made her want to help him.

  His teeth ground together. This inability to reconcile his desire for her, for her to reciprocate the feeling inside him, with the need to set her from him, push her away – it was going to be the end of him.

  The tenor of the room changed, a stiffness settled between them, ousting the quiet comfortableness that had been there. Blue half dropped, half threw her empty plastic dish on top of his, then heaved herself out of the chair. Snatching up the containers, she started to walk away, but stopped, turned back.

  “Does that symbol mean something to your kind?” she asked, pointing at the paper with his notes, lying on the table.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just curious. I saw it today on Tonći’s forearm.”

  Sokach’s mouth dropped open.

  Tonći? One of Dragić’s?

  Not. Possible.

  But the puzzle pieces he’d been struggling with shifted, began to fit themselves together. Ushi had died at Tonći ’s hands. He’d gone with Velimir to retrieve her video of Dragić, only to return with the ashes of Ushi’s holdings to show for it.

  Of course! An inside man. That’s how Dragić stayed one step ahead of them.

  It was as though a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him – he was both frozen by shock yet more awake than he’d ever been. How had he not seen that? He’d been too close, too arrogant. Even Velimir had missed it.

  For a moment, he could only stare at Blue. “You were right.”

  “Really?” she asked, looking both immensely pleased with herself and confused.

  He picked up the drawing, held it for her to see. “If Tonći has that mark on him, it means he’s Dragić’s man.” He turned the paper over, stared at the symbol until he could no longer see it straight. He crumpled the note in his fist. “I’m going to—”

  The assassin’s words floated up in Sokach’s mind, interrupting the fantasy of dismembering Tonći one appendage at a time.

  Dragić was the name of a ghost. One who knew him well.

  That piece of the riddle didn’t quite fit with the others. He flipped it over, twisted it into a new angle.

  Ghosts weren’t real. What if Dragić wasn’t real? What if it was just a name, made up to confuse, to dissemble them all? He unfolded the paper, smoothed it out on the coffee table, stared at it unbelieving.

  What if Tonći was Dragić?

  He’d always been a squirrely underling that Sokach had relegated to the background. Had that been a facade? Was it possible he’d been hiding his true self? It sounded laughable, outrageous to Sokach, but isn’t that how armies lost wars? Underestimating their enemies?

  “What’s wrong?” Blue asked, sitting back down on the chair arm. She perched there, tense, dishes forgotten on her knee.

  “Before he died, my attacker said something I’ve been trying to figure out. I think I just did.” He wanted to keep her out of this, but that was not going to be possible. “That kid who works for you.”

  Blue tilted her head, confused by his change in topic. “Ricky?”

  “Yeah. Tell him to take a little vacation.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It had take n some smooth talking and a liberal dose of bald-face lying to get Ricky to accept a week’s paid vacation, but he’d relented when she’d promised a raise when he came back. Not that she could afford it, but Sokach said he’d cover it. It was his plan, after all, to take Ricky’s place in the truck so that he could keep The Adriatic under surveillance.

  She didn’t quite understand how he was going to do that without anyone recognizing him – he and Ricky were about as similar as a wrestler and a ballerina – but Sokach seemed confident, said she’d see soon enough.

  Blue checked the time on the stove.

  Eight o’clock.

  Where was Sokach?

  They had spent a good portion of the night talking. Well, her asking questions and him answering. He told her about the attacker, about the attempt at the club, about Dragić, the plot against Morana. She sensed that he tiptoed around some topics, held back on others. But that was fine. For now, anyway. There were more important things to think about right now. If Tonći was this Dragić, Morana was in serious danger.

  “Why not just go to Morana, tell her?” she’d asked.

  “If he’s not Dragić, if he’s just one of his soldiers and we call him out, we’ll lose this advantage. Dragić will know we’re on to him. I need to be sure.”

  She hadn’t wanted him to leave last night, not with the shape he was in. He needed more rest, more fluids. But there had been no stopping him.

  When he stumbled getting off the couch, she’d jump up, her arms going around him to steady him, keep him from falling. Through the cotton of her t-shirt, the heat of his body scorched hers, his hard bicep pressed against her breast. Her hand tingled as it laid on his bare chest where his unbuttoned shirt gapped open. His face so close to hers, she saw the muscle in his jaw flex and release before he stepped out of her hold, pulling away from her.

  She’d crossed her arms, hugged herself, trying to fill the aching void his body left behind.

  “I’ll meet you in the morning, at the truck,” he said, and then was gone.

  The thought if it now, of how his form blurred and disappeared, brought on a shiver that the warm morning sun couldn’t stop.

  “Hello, pretty little flower.”

  Blue jumped at the greeting. Or more precisely, at the unsettling voice speaking it.

  Velimir.

  H
e had to get his kicks out of sneaking up on her, catching her off-guard.

  His gold eyes raked over her, head to hip. Suppressing the urge to cross her arms over her breasts, she gave him her best plastic smile. “Hi. The usual?”

  “No. Not today. But Morana has requested your services tomorrow. For a special,” he pursed his lips, “party, let’s say. A celebration of sorts.”

  Sokach was dead and Morana was throwing a party? Blue struggled to keep surprise from making its way onto her face. “Does she have something in mind she’d like me to make?”

  He shook his head. “Whatever you’d like to make. There’ll be other food there. You’re just the cherry on top.”

  From the gleam in his eye, there was a joke in there that she was missing, she was sure of it.

  “What time does she want me to drop it off at the restaurant?”

  “Oh, it won’t be at The Adriatic.” He placed a piece of paper on the counter, slid it toward her. His fingernails, she noted, were immaculately manicured. “Be at this address. Eight o’clock. Don’t be late.”

  Blue picked up the note. The street was not one she knew. But it didn’t matter. There was no way in hell she was going to meet him at a strange place at night, but there was also no way she was going to tell him that now. A phone call tomorrow begging off sick would work. Or maybe she’d just drop the desserts off at the restaurant, say she lost the number. She shoved the paper in her pocket.

  One side of Velimir’s mouth tilted up. He winked. “See you then.”

  She stood at the window, watching him walk away.

  “Oh, that guy gives me the creeps,” she hissed under her breath.

  Without warning, Sokach appeared beside her at the window.

  She jumped back, her hand on her chest, trying to catch her heart before it leapt to its death.

  He didn’t seem to notice that he’d almost caused her a heart attack; his eyes were on Velimir as he hitch-stepped across the street.

  Grabbing his arm, she yanked Sokach back into the shadows of the truck. “What the hell are you doing, appearing like that? What if people saw you?” She waved a frantic hand at the pedestrians on the street and in the square.

  Her concern seemed to amuse him. “They can’t see me. Not unless I want them to.”

  “Really? Right now, no one else can see you?”

  “Nope. But she can see you .” His head tilted toward the window. “And hear you.”

  Blue turned to see a woman standing at the counter, looking at her like she ought to be wearing a straitjacket instead of an apron.

  Crud.

  “Hi ya.” Blue stepped up to the window, coughed out a chuckle. “It’s so hot in here, I think I’m beginning to hallucinate.”

  The woman didn’t laugh. “I want one of those chocolate muffins. And a water.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Blue turned to fill the order and found Sokach leaning back against the stove, arms crossed, a huge grin spread across his face, softening his hard features. Her heart did a little cartwheel. That was the first smile he’d ever given her. My lord, he was beautiful .

  Cheeks hot, Blue glared at him as she moved to the mini-fridge. He could wipe that oh-so-satisfied grin off his oh-so-ridiculously-handsome face.

  Wait – his face!

  The bottled water slipped in her hand; she bobbled it, caught it back up.

  The cut on his cheek was healed. Completely. Not a trace of it remained. She glanced at his arm. That seemed no worse for the wear either. And he’d changed his clothes, clean dark grey slacks and black button down instead of torn and bloodied ones. Looking at him now, no one would ever guess he’d been a bloody dying mess on her couch just last night.

  The chocolate muffins sat on a tray on the other side of him.

  He straightened up to let her slide by him and back again. Blue held her breath, kept her eyes on the lumps of chocolate chips covering the muffin, ignoring the brush of his body against hers, the warmth that spread out from her core.

  Dizzy from his nearness, she gave the woman her order and made change in a haze.

  “What happened?” she asked, whirling on him when the customer was gone. “You look...perfectly fine!”

  He nodded, squeezed a hand around the once-injured forearm. “Back to good.”

  “How is that possible?”

  Instead of answering her, he pointed out the window. A troupe of teens was headed toward the truck. His image shimmered. When it settled again, Sokach was gone and Ricky stood before her.

  She swallowed with effort. So that’s why he wanted Ricky to disappear.

  It was strang e to hear Ricky, to see Ricky, but to know that wasn’t him, that it was Sokach behind the sarcastic wit. When one of the customers had cracked a joked and he’d laughed, she’d stood dumbfounded. It was Ricky’s high-pitched cackle, but was Sokach laughing because he found the jest funny? Or because he thought Ricky would have?

  Was his own laughter that light, carefree?

  Somehow, she doubted it, doubted that he had time for things that made people chuckle. He was like one of those serious kids, the kind raised by uncaring parents, who were old before they were ten years of age. The thought tugged at her heart.

  The initial morning crowd slowed to a trickle, giving them a moment to catch their breath.

  Still in Ricky’s form, Sokach sat with a leg hitched on the counter and leaned back against the window frame, his eyes across the square.

  He stiffened and stood up.

  Blue turned to see what had riled him.

  Morana crossed the sidewalk from The Adriatic to a waiting car. As she walked, a light breeze caught her long gilt hair, lifted a few strands. With a finger, she pushed it out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, revealing her elegant neck.

  Beside her, Sokach made a sound.

  It hit Blue then. “You love her, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he answered without hesitation, without taking his eyes off Morana even as she disappeared from view, sliding into the car, the door held open for her by the driver.

  A single syllable, so simple and harmless, yet why did it hurt? It shouldn’t. He was in love with his boss. And why not? Morana was exotic, beautiful. One of his kind.

  Whereas she was a silly human who meant nothing. He’d said as much when he told her why he let her live; because she was too insignificant to be a worry.

  Blue swallowed the disappointment. It landed like a rock in her belly.

  “She’s my maker,” he added in a soft voice.

  The words took a moment to cut through the ache washing over Blue. “Oh! So, she’s like…your mom?”

  Sokach turned a bewildered face to her.

  “I mean…she’s family, not…um.” Hot embarrassment rushed up from Blue’s chest to her hairline. “Your girlfriend.”

  Confusion gave way to something like repulsion. “No.”

  Just then, something caught his eye, distracting him. Blue said a silent Thank God , then turned in time to see Tonći exist the restaurant and enter the car, which pulled away from the curb and disappeared down the road.

  Sokach’s fists were clenched so tight, his knuckles glowed white. Anger, no, rage twisted his face, or Ricky’s rather, into a mask.

  She started to put a hand on his arm but stopped, let it drop to the counter instead.

  “You should go after them. She shouldn’t be alone with him. Not if you’re right about him.”

  He turned pained eyes to her. “That’s the thing. Now I’m not so certain Tonći is Dragić.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What do yo u mean you’re not sure he’s Dragić?” Blue asked him. Her eyebrows bent in toward one another. “Last night, you seemed pretty darn sure.”

  “I spent most of the night tailing him, and he did nothing suspicious. Nothing. ”

  Sokach shook his head. It made no sense to him.

  After leaving Blue’s apartment, he’d fed on not one, but three souls. With their en
ergy coursing through him, his power swelled, bubbling up like a flooding river. The skin around the athame wounds healed, the remnants of poison sizzling as it was destroyed by a rush of magic so heady it dropped him to his knees.

  He’d stayed on the cavern floor, swaying on all fours, the sharp rocks cutting into his knees and palms as the waves of power settled, finished their work. When the surge passed, he rose, renewed, in control.

  And went after Tonći.

  Finding the little turncoat had been easy; the hard part had been getting close enough without revealing himself. He couldn’t be certain what magic Tonći had now, if he could sense Sokach or see his shadow, so he had to be content with watching from a distance.

  But there’d been nothing to see. While Velimir saw Morana home, Tonći headed to Club 71 where, like a kid playacting mobster, he held court over some low-end thugs and their ditzy arm candy. After a quick screw in the back hallway of the club, he moved on to a second bar, then two more, before retiring home a mere two hours before the sun was set to rise.

  Cockier now, to be sure, he lorded over his posse, issuing a head slap here, an order to get him a drink there; but nothing in his actions or behavior gave hint to a hidden agenda. Even in the privacy of his own home, he was still the same Tonći.

  It didn’t add up.

  “Even if he isn’t Dragić, he’s still involved somehow, and you shouldn’t leave Morana alone with him,” Blue said, bringing him back to the moment. “I mean, she has no clue, none whatsoever. Hell, she’s planning a party, for Pete’s sake!”

  This was news. Nothing had been in the works before he left. “What party?”

  “I don’t know. Velimir didn’t say what it was for.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s your funeral.”

  Sokach frown at her sarcasm.

  “Oh!” She held up a finger, then dug into the front pocket of her cut-offs and fished out a crumbled piece of paper. “He said it was going to be held here.” She thrust the note at him. “I have no idea where that is.”