by Lexi C. Foss
But she seemed to be the only one keeping Lizzie from crying and also appeared to be as pissed off as Jayson. Her eyes were narrowed, and Issac’s hand had disappeared beneath the table ten minutes ago in an attempt to either calm her down or, more likely, to prevent Stas from leaping over Lizzie and kicking Lillian’s ass.
The two other men at the table seemed oblivious, or perhaps didn’t care.
Jackasses.
Jayson wanted to introduce Lillian to the oversized windows by tossing her through the glass. Alas, he had work to do in the kitchen.
Issac’s admirable ability to manipulate vision worked well in situations such as this. He could tap into everyone’s visual receptors and alter reality, and he easily manipulated hundreds of people at a time. The Ichorian once likened it to a row of televisions, saying he merely selected the channel he wanted everyone to watch.
Centuries of experience had only perfected his craft.
Right now, it allowed Jayson to move freely through the dining room without anyone noticing him, including Lizzie.
The only one immune to the manipulation was Stas. She was marked with a rune of sorts that blocked Ichorian gifts. Whoever put it there and why remained a mystery, but it served as the reason the two lovebirds initially met.
Jayson slipped into the kitchen and followed the blonde waitress who had just taken the drink orders from Lizzie’s table. He had arrived thirty minutes early with Issac to investigate the restaurant but found nothing useful. They decided on plan B, which included Jayson supervising every second of the meal and looking for anything out of the ordinary.
So far, nothing.
But their brunch had just begun.
The short waitress punched all the meals into the system, including Lizzie’s green salad with no dressing and dry chicken breast.
That sounds horrible.
What happened to his pizza-loving redhead who enjoyed greasy pepperonis as much as he did?
Stas ordered two pasta dishes with extra garlic bread.
Nice.
Issac had chosen well.
Not that they had a future, but that wasn’t for Jayson to worry about.
He trailed after the petite waitress to the refreshment station, where she poured five drinks. She pulled a phone from her pocket and typed one word.
Ready.
The response was immediate. Here.
She left the drinks unattended and wandered to the back entrance with an empty glass in hand. The solitary service elevator held her focus. Jayson hoped Issac was seeing all this; otherwise, his cover would be blown as soon as the door opened.
He leaned his hip against the wall and left his hands loose in case he needed to fight. His affinity for metal would help, as would the knives tucked into his suit jacket.
The gentle bing sounded a second before the metal slates slid open to reveal a blond male with broad shoulders and a bored expression.
Sentinel Stark, Jayson recognized. He was Stas’s primary trainer at the CRF.
The man’s light green eyes flickered Jayson’s way, but his lack of an outward reaction confirmed Issac’s interventions.
Stark stepped forward with a glass of water in his hand.
“Hi, Stark,” the waitress greeted.
“Bridget,” he returned as they swapped items. “Your assistance is appreciated, as always.”
She smiled. “It’s not a very hard job.”
He didn’t return the smile as he moved backward into the still-open elevator. “See you in four weeks.”
Jayson wanted to kick himself for missing this obvious connection. Stas had mentioned the brunches, but no one thought a damn thing of it.
He was still shaking his head when the blonde turned around, shrieked, and dropped the glass. It shattered into a bazillion pieces between them.
Apparently, Issac had decided now would be a good time to drop the visual charade.
Jackass, Jayson thought. His lack of a warning caused their best lead to explode all over the fucking floor. And now he had to deal with a hysterical woman. Because no way could he pretend to just be wandering around the employee-only area.
His instincts fired.
He grabbed her, placed his hand over her mouth, and pulled her into a corner mere seconds before two other employees rushed into the back area.
“What the hell?” A stocky male in a chef’s hat eyed the broken glass and surroundings with annoyance. “Seriously, what the fuck?”
The brunette beside him scratched her long nose and glanced in Jayson’s direction. Her lack of a reaction set his body at ease.
Thanks, Issac, he thought. Not that the Ichorian could hear him.
“Get a broom,” the chef said. “Clean it up.”
He didn’t wait for a response as he left the back area.
“Asshole,” the brunette muttered as she grabbed a mop and broom and proceeded to take her sweet-ass time picking up the sharp pieces.
All the while, the waitress in his arms tried futilely to escape, but Jayson wasn’t a rookie at restraining a woman. He kept one arm locked around her middle, trapping her arms to her sides, and used his other hand to cover her mouth. Her legs flailed uselessly as he held her off the floor. She managed a few decent back heel kicks, but pain was an old friend.
By the time the pseudo janitor finished cleaning, the blonde was exhausted.
He waited a full minute before pushing out of the corner and carrying his ward with him to the door, where he closed and locked it quietly.
“Now.” He rotated the blonde to face him and read the absolute terror etched into her expression. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I do need you to do me a favor.”
Her eyebrows shot upward as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Okay, let’s get one thing straight,” he continued. “Screaming will just result in my holding you captive again, and as you’ve, hopefully, already deduced, your coworkers won’t see us. So I recommend you stay quiet and hear me out. Then you can scream later to your little heart’s content. All right?”
He had her pinned up against the door with one forearm across her abdomen and the opposite keeping her silent with his palm. But she didn’t appear to be fighting anymore. He took that as a good sign.
The horror radiating from her blue eyes, however, would remain for a while.
Humans didn’t take well to learning about the supernatural. Her mind would supply her with a multitude of excuses for what just happened, none of which would be the obvious. Her reaction, though, answered at least one burning question.
She had no idea that Ichorians and Hydraians existed.
Which meant she knew nothing about the true nature of the CRF.
He slowly removed his palm from her mouth and waited for her to react. When she didn’t scream, he dropped his hand and loosened his hold on her.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, meaning it. She was obviously terrified, but intelligent as well. He could respect that. “Now, about my favor. I need you to call the man from the elevator and tell him you need another glass of whatever it is he brings you.”
Her eyebrows inched upwards. “You… What?”
“Do you have any idea what’s in that glass he gives you?”
She shook her head slowly.
“But you give it to the redhead, right? Every four weeks?”
Some of the color returned to her cheeks as she nodded.
“I assume they pay you,” he continued.
Another nod.
“Great. I need you to text him and tell him you accidentally dropped the glass. And I want you to do it on speakerphone so I can listen.”
“I… I…”
“Look, I don’t exactly have a lot of time. And all I need is that simple phone call. Then I’ll disappear.” Afterward, she could tell whomever she wanted about him. With him distorting his features, she wouldn’t be able to describe him, and the security feeds were already altered thanks to Mateo’s intervention. All avenues were covered.
She swallowed but otherwise didn’t move.
He took back his assessment regarding her astuteness. The shock had clearly fried some brain cells.
“Unlock your phone and hand it to me.” He held out his palm, waiting.
Her hand shook as she complied.
Jayson scrolled through her text messages from Stark and reviewed some of their previous exchanges to understand their usual cadence. Short and to the point. He could do that.
I accidentally dropped the glass. What should I do?
“I suspect he’s going to call.” And likely not be very pleasant. “I need you to talk to him. Mention me, and you won’t like the consequences. Understood?”
She gave him a short nod as the color drained from her cheeks again.
Jayson knew he could evoke fear when he wanted to, but this was just ridiculous. Aside from holding her still, he’d done nothing menacing. It was the Sentinel she should worry about.
The phone rang within seconds, flashing with the name: Gabriel Stark.
Well, here we go.
Either she helped or she didn’t.
Jayson selected the Talk button and raised an eyebrow at her.
“H-hello?” Her nerves were expected and appropriate. Stark would assume she was startled by dropping the glass and worried about his reaction.
“You dropped the glass,” he repeated emotionlessly.
“I… I tr-tripped.”
“Indeed.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
“That I believe,” Stark replied. “Obviously, you won’t be paid this month.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “C-can’t you just b-bring me another one?”
“No.” His flat reply reverberated through the room and was followed by a click as Stark ended the call.
Bridget cast big doe eyes up at Jayson. Clearly, she expected the worst from him and he couldn’t necessarily blame her.
“Excellent. See, that wasn’t so hard, right?” He pushed away from her and waved a hand at the door. “You’re welcome to go.”
“Th-that’s it?”
“I told you I just wanted a favor.”
She frowned. “You meant it?”
“I try to keep my word when I can,” he replied as he punched the service elevator button. “Oh, but a piece of advice. Find a new job and change your number.”
“What? Why?”
“Because Stark? He’s bad news. When he grows tired of you, you’ll be replaced. And I don’t mean fired.” He stepped into the elevator as it opened. “Have a good afternoon.” He gave her a salute before pressing the button to take him down to the ground floor.
His phone slipped into his hand as the doors closed, and he had it at his ear a second later.
Jacque answered on the first ring. “’Sup?”
Jayson loved military technology, and that adoration extended to telecommunications.
Hence his perfect signal inside the metal box.
“I need a teleport,” he said.
“From the coordinates you sent me?”
“Yep.” Jayson anticipated something might go wrong, and it never hurt to have a backup plan.
“Peace.” The phone went dead.
Jayson shot a text off to Issac while he waited for the elevator to continue descending. Heading to Hydria for a debrief.
Regroup at 16:30, was the reply as the doors opened.
Jacque stood in the building’s lobby, leaning against a column with his hands in his jeans. His rock band shirt and floppy black hair brought a smile to Jayson’s face. Home.
*
Lizzie looked at the clock for the thousandth time.
Brunch should have ended thirty minutes ago, but thanks to their waitress’s disappearing act, they had just finished eating.
Lizzie handed her half-eaten salad off to their replacement waiter and folded her hands in her lap. Her mother had commented three times so far on Lizzie’s choice to wear black.
Such an unflattering color on you.
Why would you wear black with your red hair, considering that it’s so close to Halloween?
Really, Elizabeth, it’s like you’re in mourning.
Lizzie wanted nothing more than to shove a fork down her mother’s throat.
But she remained proper, quiet, and hyperfocused on the flower arrangement in the middle of the table.
Stas squeezed her thigh, grabbing her attention. “How do you feel about Friday night, Lizzie?”
Uh… “As in this Friday?”
Stas nodded. “Is that enough time to prepare for a dinner party?”
Lizzie’s eyebrows inched up. She’d clearly missed an important conversation. “Depends on what you want to eat.” And who I’m feeding?
“I’ve always enjoyed your cooking,” Doctor Fitzgerald replied.
“Likewise,” Issac murmured. “Is there anything Gabriel won’t eat?”
Who the hell is Gabriel?
Doctor Fitzgerald shrugged. “I’m certain whatever Lizzie decides will satisfy him.”
“Sentinel Stark,” Stas whispered while Issac and Doctor Fitzgerald discussed a time. “They want to come over for dinner Friday.”
“Why?” Lizzie whispered back.
Stas shrugged. “I don’t know. Doctor Fitzgerald received a call and inquired about dinner afterward, saying Stark wants to meet you.”
“Why?” Lizzie repeated.
“Probably because I’ve told him so much about you, or maybe he wants to come over and beat me some more,” Stas muttered.
“It’s quite rude to whisper at the table when dining with company,” Lizzie’s mother stated loudly.
“Really? Because you seem quite fond of whispering things in Lizzie’s ear,” Stas snapped back.
Oh no.
Her mother locked gazes with Stas, but before she could say a word, Issac spoke up.
“Does seven work for you, Elizabeth? Or will you require more time for a party of five?”
So my parents won’t be attending. Good. Not that she really wanted company anyway, but she could tolerate an evening with Stas and her coworkers.
“Seven is fine,” she replied.
Lizzie loved to cook, but lately, she hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near her kitchen. Even to bake cookies. Which was the primary reason she had yet to deliver chocolate sweets to Jayson.
That and the fact that he hadn’t bothered to text her once since their non-date five days ago. And now he was traveling, so who knew when or if she’d see him again.
Just friends, she repeated for the millionth time.
He owed her nothing, and she barely even liked him anyway.
So what if she had dreamt of him every night this week.
She was just lonely.
That kiss hadn’t meant much, either. Her lips may have tingled for an hour afterward, but that was because she hadn’t kissed anyone in over a year. Of course she reacted to it.
“Lizzie,” Stas murmured. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine.” The phrase rolled easily off her tongue, just as it did every time someone asked how she was feeling.
Because it was the expected reply.
The man I’ve been in love with for most of my life just died, but I’m fine.
My mother enjoys battering my self-confidence, but I’m fine.
You just invited the man who resembles the dead love of my life over to dinner Friday night, but I’m fine.
My best friend has decided to work for the very company that ruined my childhood and killed Tom, but I’m fine.
Our new neighbor kissed me and never called me afterward, but I’m fine.
Fine.
A lie.
Lizzie most definitely wasn’t fine.
And she hadn’t been for a very long time.
“I’m fine,” she repeated for good measure.
Because if she said it enough, she’d believe it.
Someday.
6
When a Ghost Invites Himself to Coffee
>
The benefactor’s associate who supervised today’s experiment suggested the subject’s social training be expanded. We’re taking it under advisement.
—Entry Log 109.04.4-7
He missed her.
He shouldn’t.
It was ridiculous.
But he did.
Jayson flipped his phone around a few times in his hand, debating. What could it hurt to pay her a short visit? Say hello?
They were neighbors.
Friends, even.
I kissed her.
Though he could hardly call it a kiss. B would send him to sexual therapy for considering it anything other than a platonic gesture.
Jayson didn’t chastely kiss women. He devoured them.
So this hardly counted. No rules broken; forbidden ribbon intact.
One week since he’d last spoken to Lizzie. He protected her every day, but she didn’t know, nor did she have a clue he’d been at the restaurant two days ago.
Her forlorn expression that morning still killed him. He usually ran in the opposite direction at the first sign of emotion from males and females, but her heartache called to him on a level he didn’t know existed.
“Shit,” he muttered, standing.
He needed a good run.
Or a fuck.
Maybe both.
The celibacy was screwing with his head. He never went long without sex. Jayson enjoyed all varieties, types, positions, and kink. Had even shared women with men and vice versa.
Three thousand years was a long time to be alive not to vary it up every now and then.
A knock at his door had him springing up off the couch, hopeful that a certain redhead had come up to say hello. Instead, he found Ezekiel leaning against his doorjamb, looking bored. He didn’t ask to come inside. He just stood there, legs crossed casually at the ankles, black eyes gleaming.
“You want to get a drink?” he asked, surprising the shit out of Jayson.
“Is that an innuendo for something?”
Ezekiel flashed a row of perfect teeth at him in his version of a smile. “No, not tonight.”
“Let me change.” Jayson left the door open while he retreated to the bedroom to don a pair of jeans, a sweater, and several knives. When he returned, he found Ezekiel in the same spot by the door. “If you try to kill me, you’ll fail.”