Tyler’s friend Toni, who’d taken it upon herself to serve their table tonight, wandered over to check on them. “How’re you both going? Was everything to your taste?”
“Everything was delicious,” Jay told her. “I’ve never eaten such a wonderful meal in my life. And believe me, I’ve eaten some very fine meals.”
“Superb, Toni,” Tyler said. “Angiolo outdid himself.”
Toni beamed. “He’ll be rapt to hear that. Would you like anything else?”
Tyler glanced at Jay, who shook her head. “No thanks,” he told Toni. “It’ll be all we can do to waddle home after all this. Can I have the check, please?”
Toni returned a few minutes later with the check, and Tyler gave it a cursory once-over before handing her his credit card. He glanced sideways at Jay, as if daring her to say anything.
She knew better than to protest. If Tyler insisted on paying for their meal, she wasn’t going to embarrass him by arguing. But she did issue a challenge of her own. “I’m handling the tip, if that’s okay with you?”
“I’m all for equality,” he said.
Jay made small talk with Toni, and when Tyler excused himself to go to the bathroom, she fished out the fifty dollar note she’d tucked into her bra and slipped it to Toni. “Thank you for squeezing us in at the last minute and helping make this such a special night.”
“You’re welcome, Toni said. And then glanced at the banknote and did a classic human double-take. Her eyes went round as she tucked it in her apron pocket.
Jay smiled. “Please. It’s the least I can do after tonight. And your service was exemplary.”
“Well, thanks! And Jay?”
“Yes?”
“Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. You’re good for Tyler. Even Gio thinks so. She also said any girl who could rock sneakers with a dress like that, and enjoys her food as much as you do, has her stamp of approval.”
Jay had noticed Gio’s startled reaction to her footwear—and the smiles of some of the other patrons as Gio had shown them to their table. “She didn’t exactly say it quite like that, though, did she.”
“Nope. Not quite.” Toni winked as she headed off to see to another table.
Jay’s phone chimed with an incoming text.
It was from Nessa. guess who I met at work today?
Jay texted back, No idea.
tyler’s roommate.
Mmm. Interesting. Chandler or Pete? Jay was betting on Chandler. Café Au Lait didn’t seem like Pete’s cup of coffee.
chandler. he’s giving me a lift home.
Thanks for letting me know. One less problem to be concerned about. Nessa and Chandler. Hmmm. It would make for an interesting pairing.
Jay intercepted Tyler as he left the bathroom, and after saying their goodbyes to Gio, and receiving the obligatory kisses on cheeks and pleas to come again, they exited the restaurant. It was pushing midnight. A taxi would be prudent. But Tyler had made it quite clear that he was in charge of this date, and Jay was happy to walk because she didn’t want the evening to end.
Tyler slung his arm about her waist as they strolled along the footpath. “So how was your first date?”
“Wonderful.”
“Good.” His body language radiated pleased smugness.
They walked in silence for a while, neither feeling the need to ruin the evening with needless chatter. It was a good silence, the warmly contented kind that couples who were in sync with each other frequently enjoyed. They didn’t need to speak. They showed their affection with occasional glances, secret smiles, and small but meaningful gestures. Such as when Tyler tucked her in close to his side to protect her from the breeze that had whipped up, even though it wouldn’t affect her in the slightest.
It was the acrid combination of sweat and fear and excitement oozing from his pores to soak into his clothes that brought the man to her attention. And with her enhanced vision it was easy to spot him lurking in the shadows beside the Dumpster that served the large stationery and office supplies store they were approaching.
Interesting. This was an affluent area of town with a solid police presence. Late-night muggings were rare occurrences, but given the current economic climate, perhaps not unexpected. Of course this could be something else entirely.
She nuzzled Tyler’s ear and whispered a warning. “We have a mugger.”
Tyler tensed but didn’t break his stride. “Shit, “ he muttered. “You sure that’s all he is?”
There was little point worrying Tyler with baseless suspicions. She skirted an outright lie by saying, “He’s an amateur—an opportunist. Sixer is a professional.”
“Okay, I’ll buy that. What do you want me to do?”
It felt as though her heart was swelling in her chest. He trusted her to handle this situation, had implicit faith she could do so without either of them coming to harm. And she would handle this. “You’re going to tie your shoelace. I’m going to keep walking.”
He squeezed her hand. “Don’t hurt him too bad.”
“I won’t.”
He did exactly as she’d asked, and stooped to fiddle with his shoelace. Jay strolled a little way further and then turned to glance over her shoulder at him. “Hurry up! I’m freezing.”
He picked up on her cue. “Shit. The lace is in a knot. You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
Jay detected the rustle of clothing rubbing against a hard surface as the mugger positioned himself to leap out at her. A more experienced felon would have let her pass and snuck up on her from behind. Too, he would have noticed she carried no purse or bag of any kind, and was hardly a “catch”. Definitely an amateur.
Jay scanned the vicinity for any electronic surveillance that would force her to moderate her reactions. She had no desire to be caught on camera again.
Fortunately, because this suburb suffered little in the way of crime, there were no CCTV cameras in operation. There was, however, a surveillance camera positioned out front of the store. She identified it, ran the specs through her databases, and concluded it was an inferior model with limited range. Barring passing cars or late-night pedestrians, she could act at will.
He jumped out at her, waving a knife that, while it looked impressive, would be useless for throwing. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something pithy like, “Give me your purse,” and then he frowned.
“Would it make you feel better if I shrieked a bit and pretended to look scared?” she asked him.
He stared at her, momentarily nonplussed, and then waved his knife in what he doubtless believed was a menacing fashion. Jay folded her arms across her chest and waited for him to realize she had nothing worth stealing save for the clothes on her back and the thumb drive on the chain around her neck. She’d give up her clothes without a blink. The thumb drive was another matter entirely.
Finally he mustered a growl. “Shut up. And tell your boyfriend, if he knows what’s good for you he’ll stay right where he is.”
“Or?”
“Who’s that you’re talking to?” Tyler called.
“Oh, just a friend,” she called back without taking her gaze from her attacker’s face. “You go on without me. I’ll catch up with you shortly.”
“Smart thinking, girly,” the man said. “’Cept I might want your boyfriend to empty his pockets before he heads off.”
Jay’s hand snaked out and grabbed the blade, ripping it from his grip and tossing it aside. “I don’t think so,” she told his saucer-eyed, slack-jawed, unshaven face.
“Oh, look at that. I’ve cut my hand. How careless of me.” She held his gaze as she licked the welling blood from her palm. The gesture served two purposes, Firstly, to intimidate him, and secondly, to assist her natural healing processes via the healing agents in her saliva.
The man took a step back. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
Jay rewarded him with a feral grin. “I’m sure whoever dispatched you will be most displeased if you don’t at least attempt to intimidate me
further.”
He goggled at her, blinked, swallowed again. “H-how did you—”
“I have my ways.” She didn’t want to continue this discussion. Their voices were low but sound carried and Tyler was edging closer. She couldn’t risk him overhearing and drawing conclusions that might provoke him to act rashly. Provoking this smelly man who needed some lessons in personal hygiene, however, was another matter.
She dropped her hands to her sides and stood perfectly still. “Go on,” she said. “Give it your best shot. Unless you want to go running back to him with your tail between your legs, bleating how the scary girl took your knife away from you. Kinda pathetic how ineffectual you are if you ask me. He should have been a bit more choosy.”
He gaze narrowed. She’d pricked his pride. This was going to be ludicrously easy—so easy that she wouldn’t even have to release targeted pheromones to increase his aggression levels. He lunged for her and she let him grab her around the neck and start to squeeze.
His eyes were slightly bloodshot. His breath smelled of beer and the burger he’d eaten earlier. She could detect cheese and meat and ketchup and pickle. Yuck. Pickles.
Jay pried the man’s fingers from her throat and bent them backward until he howled and gave up on the choking idea. When she released him, he retreated and then regrouped. He flexed his fingers, managed to curl them into fists, and stepped forward to swing a punch. She blocked it, waited for the next one, and blocked that, too. She didn’t wish to completely incapacitate him. She merely wished to make a point and a send a message. So she jabbed him in the diaphragm with her fingers, just hard enough to wind him and make it difficult to catch his breath.
“Need any help?” Tyler’s slightly anxious voice rang out.
“I’ve got this. Just call out if you spot anyone approaching.”
The man was bent over at the waist, gasping. She grasped him by the collar of his cheap windbreaker and jerked his head up. When she’d caught his gaze, she inserted her hand beneath his chin until she had a good grip of his neck. And then she lifted him up, and up, until her arm was completely extended and his feet dangled off the ground. “Whatever he’s paying you, it isn’t enough. Do you understand?”
He couldn’t reply of course. All he could do was struggle and kick while she walked toward the Dumpster. A particularly useful human invention, Dumpsters. This wasn’t the first time she’d deposited human trash in one.
The man got in a couple of good kicks to her torso but she ignored them. She didn’t feel pain, and although her dermis and tissues could bruise, any damage would be fleeting and would quickly fade—just like the slice to her palm, which had already knit together.
The man was unconscious by the time she reached her destination but she’d been careful not to crush his windpipe or do any permanent damage. She released him, and as he collapsed, she grasped hold of his collar and the seat of his pants. She swung him once, twice, and on the third swing she let him go and watched him sail over the edge of the Dumpster.
The thump-woosh sound of his body landing atop the plastic packaging and other discarded rubbish was very satisfying indeed.
Tyler materialized by her side. “You okay?”
“Of course.” She hooked her arm in his and tugged him away. “I just have to get the—”
“Got it already.” He passed over the knife. “I, uh, didn’t want him grabbing it and coming after us or anything.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” she said, injecting enough light sarcasm into her voice that he would know she was kidding.
“Just cleaning up after you, Super-Chick,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
As they walked, Jay examined the knife. Nothing special. A cheap, generic weapon.
“What’re you gonna do with it?” From Tyler’s tone, he didn’t like the idea of keeping it around. She didn’t blame him. If she were to carry a knife, it would be a far superior weapon to this cheap blade.
“Dispose of it.”
“Might not be so great for someone to find that in the trash,” he said.
“Hold this for a minute.” She snapped off the point and handed it to him. He didn’t say a word as she snapped the blade from the hilt before handing the hilt to him, too. She bent the blade first into a lopsided U shape, and then bent over one end. When she held it up it made a perfect sideways S.
“Works for me,” Tyler said. “Of course, would’ve worked even better for me if you hadn’t cut your hands on the blade.”
Jay handed him the mangled blade and examined her palms and fingers while he disposed of the now useless knife in a trash can. She bent to wipe her hands on a patch of grass and then licked one palm and rubbed both together. “The cuts are already healing,” she told him. “See?”
Tyler examined her palms. “Nice trick.” He slung an arm round her waist and she did the same with his, inserting her hand into the back pocket of his pants.
“Helluva way to work off a meal,” he said. “So. I’m guessing we don’t need to report this guy to the cops?”
“No. He’s become somewhat discontented with his current line of work. I believe I’ve encouraged him to find something else to occupy his time when he regains consciousness. After the bruises fade and he can eat solids again, of course.”
“You scared the living daylights out of him.”
“You could say that.”
“That definitely works for me.”
Jay smiled at the darkly dangerous tone of his voice. She liked that he didn’t flinch when she did what needed to be done. She liked that he hadn’t tried to intervene and thus put himself at risk during the encounter. And she appreciated that he didn’t fuss unnecessarily over her small injuries. He truly did accept her for what she was, and that was a precious gift indeed.
The only thing that could have made the night even better would be banishing the unsettling feeling that she was being watched and evaluated. And that the watcher was as good—if not better—than she at hiding her presence, because she could neither see nor hear him anywhere. All she could detect was that same faint odor she’d recognized from the car-parking building.
~~~
Chapter Fifteen
What people said about phones ringing in the middle of the night was absolutely true. Tyler sat bolt upright in bed, his heart thumping so hard he swore he could hear it echoing in his ears.
Jay had already answered the phone. “Hello?” She passed it to him. “It’s your mother. It’s urgent.”
Foreboding slammed him, snatching his breath. His stomach twisted and then plummeted to his toes. “Mom? What’s wrong?”
His mother’s voice sounded unnaturally calm. “I’m spotting. Mike’s not here. He’s out of town on a teaching course. I’ve rung him and he’s heading straight for the airport, but even if he grabs the first flight out he won’t be here for hours. Caro’s too far away and she has no transport of her own. She’d have to get Matt to drive her.”
Spotting? He shook his head to clear it. Oh shit. Spotting. Like, the baby was coming or…. Or there was something wrong. “God. Mom. I’m—”
“I’m scared Tyler. I’ve rung the hospital and I’m heading there now. Can you…? Can you come?”
“On my way. I’ll meet you there. It’ll be all right, Mom. You’ll see.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, and then cleared her throat. “It’s Edgewater Maternity Unit, the next county over.” And before he could ask how she intended to get there, because please God, she wasn’t gonna try and drive herself, the line went dead.
Jay had already thrown on jeans beneath her t-shirt, and was pulling on a pair of sneakers. “I’ll drive. I can get you there in around two-and-a-half hours.”
“If you drive like a complete maniac.”
“Yes. Get dressed and then lock up and I’ll meet you out front with the SUV.”
He did as he was told, and through the fuzz of worry, managed to remember to grab his wallet. The car trip was reduced to hellish flashes of h
eadlights and traffic lights splitting the night, and the blares of horns as Jay broke every rule in the book, plus a few that hadn’t even been invented yet.
They pulled into the visitors car-park at four sixteen a.m. He knew it was four sixteen because the entrance to the maternity unit sported a digital clock beneath the signage. A blink, and the next thing he knew he was standing at the reception desk and Jay was explaining to the staff member on duty that Tyler was Mrs. Marissa Davidson’s son and she’d phoned him a few hours ago to say she was on her way here.
He snapped out of his daze when Jay turned to him and said, “They have no record of your mother checking in. Give me your phone so I can call home and see whether she’s still there.”
His tension levels sky-rocketed and his head started to pound with images of things that could have gone horribly wrong. “I’ll do it,” he said, thinking that his mom would be even more stressed if she had to talk to Jay.
The call wouldn’t connect. Worry gnawed his innards, and he had to swallow the panicked tirade that bubbled up in his throat. He snatched a breath. And another. “Can’t get through.”
She squeezed his arm. “Stay here in case Marissa is still in transit. If she turns up, she’ll need you to stay with her until your father arrives. I’ll head to the house to check whether or not she’s still there. I’ll call you, okay?”
He patted his pockets. “Where did I put my cell phone?”
She extracted it from his clothing and pressed it into his hand.
He didn’t want to stay here and wait. Waiting was not his thing. The urge to take action rippled beneath his skin in hot-cold-hot waves. But he knew she was right. If anything had happened to his mother en route, Jay would be the best person to find her and help her and get her to the hospital. He gulped and nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait here.”
And then she was sprinting for the exit, leaving Tyler to cope with sympathetic gazes from the reception staff and the nightmarish images in his own head.
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