by Aimee Laine
Tripp tapped his middle finger against his forehead. This is stupid. She’s playing your game. He took a step, prepared to call out to her, only to realize she never told him her name. “Hey.”
She turned, but kept walking backwards. The space between them stretched to twenty paces.
“What’s your name?”
Her smile lit her face. “Does it matter if you’re never going to see me again and I’m nothing more than a one-dinner stand?”
Tripp considered for the duration of one additional step. “It’s not like I’ll ever get caught,” he mumbled to himself. “Yeah, I’d like to know who I’m talking to.” He jogged to catch up with her. “So? Miss Early Morning, care to enlighten me?”
She bobbled her head as they walked in sync along a deserted path illuminated by random deck lights. “Karen. Karen Jones.”
He cocked his head. As the perfect liar—when he needed to be—he knew a bad one when it hit him.
Under the rising moon’s glow, Tripp walked at Karen’s side toward the diner. Even the idea of Karen as her name didn’t suit her, but he didn’t feel the need to pry and kept silent.
“So, Tripp …”
“Fox. Tripp Fox.”
“So, Mr. Fox, nice tat.”
Tripp ran a hand over the blue star he knew poked out of his shirt. “Ah … it’s sort of a birthmark.”
Her body tensed. She breathed deep and exhaled a sigh he would have heard if across the ocean.
Mystery girl gets more mysterious. “How about you? Got any hidden gems?”
“Not that I’ll admit.” She winked, adding a smile. “I was thinking. You haven’t proven to me you’re not engaged.” Challenge lit her eyes.
“I didn’t buy her a ring.”
Dark curls bounced as she shook her head. “Not good enough. Some people wait until closer to the wedding date. Did you have an engagement party?”
“No.” Tripp kept his gaze on hers. Jill’s parents threw an elaborate party, but even she’d refused to call it by its rightful name, vowing to call their relationship a ‘commitment’ until Tripp took the last step and bought her the ring. Jill had purchased a ring herself, along with a band for him. Encouragement, she’d said. He wouldn’t be caught dead with it on … ever.
“You had to think about that one.”
Tripp withheld a laugh. “Just wanted to be able to answer truthfully.”
“Does she like the hoop?”
He touched the small gold ring in his ear, one Jill begged him to remove. She said her father wouldn’t wear one, so why should Tripp? “Do you?”
“I do.”
He stopped walking as her eyebrows winged skyward.
“So tell me about this non-fiancée.”
The wind kicked up around them. “Her name is Jill. She’s a daddy’s girl with a big trust fund. We met about a year ago. End of story.”
The stare he received told him nothing.
“She really did ask me to marry her. And I really never said ‘yes’.” He held up a hand as if to say scout’s honor, though he hadn’t ever participated in the Boy Scouts, except to taunt a few of the members. And once again you’re explaining yourself to a woman who still hasn’t told you her real name.
The woman’s laugh carried with the ocean’s roar. “You sound afraid of her.”
Tripp raised an eyebrow. “I’m not, but she can be intimidating. It’s just easier to let her have her way—though, on this one point, I haven’t conceded.”
“I believe you.”
“You do?” Surprise had him stopping again.
Lexi nodded. “So what do you do, Mr. Fox?”
She closed in on the pier. He had to catch up again. “I work for myself.”
She tilted her head away from him. “Doing … what exactly?”
“I’m kind of like the repo man. You know, the banks hire them to return stuff that’s not been paid for. In my case, though, I handle it in a more private and discreet manner—”
“Like a detective or PI?”
Tripp grimaced. While he sometimes worked for or with the police, he hated the direct association with them. It came too close to the gray areas of his work. “You could say so.” When she didn’t press further, he turned the tables on the question.
“And what do you do … Karen?”
She stood straighter as if prepared to deliver a speech. “My sister and I own a flower shop.”
Lie number two crossed the threshold.
Tripp smiled. “So daisies or roses?”
“Roses.”
Before he broke into the truth, the darkness of the pier stood before them and a figure stepped out.
• • •
“You have a bodyguard this time?” A deep undertone of menace slithered along his voice. “I want what I paid you to retrieve.”
Lexi froze, stilling even her breath. Her plan had been to return the pendant to his wife, even though it had been gifted to Lexi by the same.
“I don’t have it.” She tried to keep her tone apologetic. “I’m sorry.”
“Have what?” Tripp whispered, stepping closer to her side.
Lexi shook her head as if to say ‘don’t ask’. “Didn’t you find your box? I gave you your money back.” If you hadn’t freaked me out, I might not have dropped it.
The man edged closer, his hands hiding within the well of pockets on a long trench coat. “Oh, I found it, but that’s not what I wanted.”
“I can’t help you.”
His eyes narrowed, lips creasing into a sneer. “You’re out here with him looking for something.”
Lexi forced herself not to look to Tripp.
One hand slid from hidden depths, the glint of a knife pointing in her direction.
She gasped, her body trembling. This is not what I signed up for!
“I want my necklace. I know you found it. That’s what you promised. You always find what you’re looking for. It’s a gift, you said.”
Tripp stepped away as if boils covered Lexi’s skin. While she agreed she wouldn’t be a good catch, she’d have preferred a bit of protection at just that moment. You’re on your own, Lexi. Made your bed, now sleep in it. She forced her expression to a flat, blank stare, letting the words form in her mind.
“Is she like a divining rod, man?” Tripp’s voice quipped like a stereotypical surfer.
Lexi jerked toward him. What the hell?
The man spun toward Tripp, the knife tilting down. “I don’t know what that is.”
Tripp stalked closer to the man as if they should talk one on one. “So, she like found somethin’ of yours, and you got your money back, too?”
The man shook his head. “I got my money back, but she didn’t give me my stuff. The bitch owes me a necklace.”
“A treasure hunt, then? So I could tap me some jewels, too?”
Nerves danced along Lexi’s spine; the hair on her arms stood on end. Run, Lexi. Just run. Even B-movie horror actresses know to run at this point. Lexi stayed frozen to her spot. Or not. Shit. Shit. Shit. She lost sight of Tripp’s face as he moved through the dark.
“No, man, see. My ex, the bitch, hid this one piece of jewelry from me. I know it’s worth millions, and she got lawyers to keep it from me.” The man relaxed into banter as if he and Tripp held a long-standing friendship. “She claimed—” He quoted in the air. “—that it wasn’t hers and couldn’t be counted in the divorce.” His knife hand even slipped so the blade angled toward the sand. “All I want is my fair share.”
The man’s grin grew as he re-pocketed the knife. “We had a deal.” He nodded toward Lexi. “Now if you want to help me, I could split—”
Tripp spun around, locked the man’s head in the vise grip of his arm. The man kicked his feet but made no contact with Tripp. His motions grew wild with only gurgles coming from his throat.
“You … are a prick,” Tripp said just loud enough that Lexi heard and stayed riveted in place. “You search for something that doesn’t belong to you,
get your investment back, and still intend to accost a woman thanks to your own stupidity?”
The man’s movements slowed.
“And then you think you deserve your money and the prize?
The man’s head jostled.
“You’re all done with this little venture now, aren’t you?” Tripp’s voice, while quiet, commanded. “If the lady says she hasn’t got your piece, I’d put some belief into her words and walk away. Fast. If you think she’s got a gift, I’ll make hers look like a daytime walk on Sesame Street.”
Lexi’s eyes widened. The star. Dammit. He does know what it means.
Tripp stretched out his arm.
The man fell to his knees, gasping for air. “You.” He breathed in deep, struggling to a stand, and started a run-jog-stumble motion away from where Lexi stood.
She turned back to Tripp holding the knife with the blade pointed right at her. The cat and mouse game she’d taken as banter took on an ominous undertone, and the beach left her very little room to hide.
This is why audiences think movie heroines are freakishly stupid. No way I can outrun this guy.
Tripp bore ‘the mark’. No one would ever find out what he did to her. She backed herself into the water. Waves crashed into her legs, dousing her ankles and shoes.
“Didn’t I tell you the dark is dangerous?” He flicked the end of the knife.
A shudder wracked her body as breath constricted in her chest. She snapped her gaze from right to left, even hoped the man might still be around, though two men against one woman did not bode well for her odds.
“Guys like him … they just don’t know when to quit.”
If she could reach the diner, someone would be there to rescue her. I never should have gotten involved in this. But now, I have to push myself beyond my normal.
“You ready to finish our walk?” Tripp’s tone reminded her of their earlier time together, not the delusional sound she expected of a man wielding a silver instrument of death.
Lexi aimed a finger at the knife. Her attempts to hold it steady failed.
“Oh, sorry.” He closed it and tucked it into his pocket. “Didn’t want him to carry this around. Who knows what he might do with it.”
“Thank—you.” Lexi’s voice broke between the two short words.
Tripp jumped in front of her, placing his hands on her cheeks. “Whoa there. It’s okay.”
She pushed against his chest as the fear returned.
He smiled. “I told you earlier today that I wasn’t going to hurt you. I’m still not. I only meant to scare the crazy away.”
Despite the gesture, uncontrolled anxiety brought out the shivers. “I’m—I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I just—”
“Didn’t know what to think? It’s dark. Some nut attacks you. I come to your aid, and you see it as a possible setup. Totally getcha.” His hands didn’t leave her face. “What would’ve happened had I not been here?”
She closed her eyes, willed herself not to think about it. “I—I don’t know exactly. I would have—” Run? Swam? “—gotten away.” Died.
Tripp’s eyes reflected the moonlight bouncing from the waves.
She stared into them as they faced each other, a wash of guilt flowing through her. You owe him the truth for saving your ass. “I didn’t tell you my real name.” Her hands slid to his, covering them but not removing them.
“I know,” he said.
She forced herself not to jerk, should have guessed he’d admit it. “I’m not a florist.” Cold inched its way up her legs, from the water or her own emotions—perhaps both.
“I know that, too.”
Lexi closed her eyes as a war brewed inside her. To pursue a relationship with Tripp would be akin to forcing the backs of two magnets together. They would have no chance of success. If he understood what the star on his neck meant, he’d know the consequences of a connection between the two of them.
“We aren’t meant to be together,” she said.
Tripp laid his forehead against hers. “You don’t know that.”
“You have a fiancée.”
One short breath of air burst from him. “Trust me when I say she’s an inconvenience, but one I can get out of.” He inched closer, splashing water against her.
Lexi moved her hands to her collar, tugged and exposed what lay hidden inside. “Look.”
Tripp angled his head down.
Her birthmark, one that matched his, lay just above her breast and burned with an intense heat—it had since the moment she’d met him.
He drew in a breath but kept his hold on her. “You.” His eyes met hers again.
“Yes. Your exact but diametrically opposite match.”
No matter the start, their outcome had been predestined— a set of celestially designed antagonists never meant even to meet.
“Fuck.”
Lexi snorted a laugh. “My sentiments exactly. It’ll never work, Tripp.”
Their abilities came direct from Zeus himself. The fox who could never be caught and the dog who could always catch her prey existed in more than childhood bedtime stories. An un-winnable game.
He let go.
An absolute paradox in human form.
The stars confirmed it.
They stood a foot from each other.
Tripp stepped away.
Lexi swallowed the sigh. I’m doomed to single-hood.
“It was good to meet you … Karen Jones … the florist.” His tone suggested he agreed with Lexi’s assessment of any relationship they might pursue.
She wanted to swear to the heavens on the unfairness of it all but reminded herself that those with supernatural gifts often had a greater purpose in life.
That she hadn’t found hers yet left her torn between fury and depression.
“Marry your girl, Tripp Fox. I’ll see you in another life.” Lexi walked backward, away from him, into the shadows of the night. Once he disappeared from view, she dashed down the beach but didn’t stop until she reached her deck.
Lexi tucked a hair behind her ear as she unlocked her door. Her hand grazed her neck, rubbing along a sliver of string she hadn’t had when she left for dinner.
She ran to the downstairs bathroom, flicked the light on after a number of frantic attempts and stared at the pendant nestled against her chest.
“He gave it back,” she said to her reflection. With her hands on the edge of the sink’s basin, she slouched forward. Her hair fell around her face as tears threatened.
After a few deep breaths, she took in the tangle of matted hair, flushed cheeks and dark eyes. She tugged at the collar of her shirt, pulling it low. The mark—a star that matched Tripp’s—branded her into in the world of the paranormal.
Alone.
4
Tripp waited until Lexi disappeared before he followed her. Once she made it within the confines of her home, he moved in the direction of his own. The walk gave him time to brood and curse without Jill’s commentary to watch his language.
“Why’d she show me the star?”
He kicked a shell into the ocean; the waves consumed it with one crash.
Of all people.
A woman he met in the middle of the night would be his antithesis while holding the allure of a hundred-carat diamond.
“Dammit all to hell. We’re not even supposed to meet!” Tripp picked up another shell and threw it toward the sky.
As he reached his own house, the four stories owned by Jill’s father waited. Can I live without it? His job, and the methods by which he remained employed, provided well in a financial sense. He didn’t need Jill—she just made life easier.
Tripp took measured steps along the planks of the pier, stopping in the middle. He fell onto one of the benches and pulled out his cell.
On the third ring, Ian answered. “Yeah?” Disco music played in the background.
“It’s Tripp.”
“Got it from the display. Otherwise, I woulda said ‘hey, mom’.”
; A smile took hold of Tripp’s lips. “Need advice.”
“Oh, man!” Ian’s voice pitched up. “Dammit, you finally agreed. Shit. I should’ve stayed. Hang on a sec.”
Tripp leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. Under normal circumstances, the beach gave him time to ponder life. At that moment, the incessant crashes left him edgy.
“Okay, I’m back.” The sounds around Ian’s voice quieted. “Went outside.”
“Where are you?”
“At Michael’s. Does it matter? It’s near eleven, I have a woman with me, and you on the phone. Please tell me you and Jill didn’t elope.”
“We didn’t elope.”
“Fuck. You got married in a ceremony with just family and ditched—”
Tripp chuckled. Ian had an unpredictable effect. “This has nothing to do with Jill.”
A whoop and laughter filled the earpiece. “Praise-alujah. Now that that’s settled, do you have a job for us? Something fun?”
“No—”
“Well then, what?”
Tripp grinned into the nothingness of the dark beach. “I met a woman.”
“Awesome. Get your ass out o’ Jill’s house then.”
“But she told me to marry Jill.”
“Well, fuck, man. You can’t do that. If you found someone else, you can’t just marry Jill. That would be—” An inhale came through the line. “—insane!”
“She’s my celestial nemesis. My Canis Major … or Minor, depending on how you look at it.”
“No shit.”
Tripp nearly burst out with laughter at Ian’s quiet response. Since their friendship extended back to their eighth birthday, Ian knew about Tripp’s gift.
“Seriously?”
The single question caused Tripp to nod his head at no one. “Yeah. Showed me the star. And you know mine’s visible as hell.”
“Where’s hers?” Ian would want more than just a ‘she jerked down the collar of her neckline.’
“It’s just above her left breast, but—”
“Hot damn! You got jiggy with a new girl.” The slap of a hand against jeans accompanied Ian’s whoop! again.
“No, you moron, I did not. But there is a connection.”
Ian sighed—a long, drawn out ‘I can’t believe you’re telling me this’ sound. “You with her now?”