by Janet Leigh
Her hand was hot to the touch, and I broke grip quickly. Mahlia gave me a half smile as Eli introduced her to the other girls. He announced they were going to eat at the barbecue restaurant and practically skipped out of the office behind her.
“I don’t like her,” Mary said after they left. “There is something fake about her.”
Good vibes, Mary. Maybe she could talk some sense into Eli.
“I think she’s pretty, and they have so much in common,” Paulina gushed.
“Like what?” Mary asked.
Paulina thought about it for a second. “They’re both tall.”
Mary harrumphed at this, and they went to finish up in the office and close for lunch.
After they left, I turned to head out the back. My boss needed to know about this. There was no way she’d accidentally met my brother. She was after something. I needed some privacy to make the call and my car was the closest, safest place. As I was fishing my cell phone out of my handbag, I bumped straight into Helga’s chest. She was almost six feet tall and could have auditioned for WrestleMania.
“You not going to eat wit’ me?” she asked in her strong German accent.
“Oh, Helga, so sorry—something’s come up.” I waved my cell at her as if I had an unexpected problem. Well, I did have a perfectly tanned and waxed problem that was humping my brother.
“No big deal. Helga has lunch with Paulina instead.”
“OK, great. Have fun,” I said as I fled out the back door.
The WTF is supervised by the CIA. My best friend and former lover, Jake McCoy, worked for the CIA. Initially, he hadn’t known I was a traveler, and I hadn’t known he’d been hired to oversee the WTF employees. The CIA always has its hands in the secrets of the world, and now Jake knew all my secrets.
As soon as I got to my car, I phoned Jake.
He answered on the second ring. “McCoy.” His voice was touched with the sharp tone of an annoyed CIA agent.
“Jake, we have a problem. Mahlia is here in Coffee Creek, and she is with Eli.” I practically yelled it into my cell.
“Jen, slow down,” he said in his Jen, get a grip voice.
I repeated myself much slower this time, explaining the details of the situation. “Why would she be here?”
“I don’t know,” Jake said. “Are you sure Eli doesn’t have the gift?”
“Well, I’ve never felt anything when I’m around him, and I’ve hugged him plenty over our lifetime—not even a tingle of energy.” I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and thought about Eli. Surely Aunt Elma would have known if Eli had the gift.
“Maybe she’s after your key.” He paused. “After the Mafusos took Gertie captive and we invaded their space to rescue her, they’ve been resistant to keeping things civil in the present. We have an agreement, but I don’t know if they can be trusted to honor it. Maybe you should ask Caiyan.”
I could hear the smirk come across the line. Mahlia had once been Caiyan’s informant and lover. Their relationship had been terminated before I came into the picture, but the informant agreement had ended much later.
“Caiyan doesn’t talk to Mahlia anymore,” I said, but my voice wavered with uncertainty, and Jake picked up on it.
“I can’t say that’s a good thing, because she did give us valuable intel on the Mafusos.”
“Has she been traveling with Mitchell?” Mahlia was Mitchell’s older sister. Maybe they were cooking up some way to steal my key.
“No, Mitchell has been flying solo back to 1990. I’m not sure why. I don’t have anyone who can track him yet.”
Yet was the key word. He was referring to Campy. I knew Caiyan did not want him to travel alone until he was a few years older and had many more travels under his belt. It was killing Caiyan not to be able to show him the ropes, and we did not have a transporter young enough to accompany him to 1990.
“I’m going to find out what she wants with my brother.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’m going to ask her.”
He let out a long, concerned breath. “Be careful and report back to me after you speak with her.”
“Will do, Agent McCoy.” I saluted the phone.
“And Jen—”
“Yeah?”
“Just talk to her. Try not to get in a hair-pulling, face-slapping fight.”
“Jeez, you think so little of me. I have SuperJen training now. I can use my fists.”
“I know; that’s what I’m afraid of.”
He disconnected, and I stared at my cell phone for a minute. Why was he so worried? I could handle an adult conversation with the woman I hated more than menstrual cramps. Besides, she couldn’t have my boyfriend and my brother. I had to draw the line somewhere.
* * *
***
* * *
I drove through Mickey D’s for a fry infusion and a large mocha coffee. I needed the fast food to fuel the energy I would need to make it through today. I thought about calling Caiyan as I sat in my car eating my fries, but I didn’t want to ask him when he had last spoken to Mahlia. He either would be pissed I was asking, or he would give me an answer I wasn’t prepared to hear. Maybe that conversation could wait until after our night of pure carnal pleasure. My inner voice agreed and packed her new VS cheeky lace panties.
When I returned from lunch, Eli was sitting at his desk. His face had that goofy smile a guy gets when his dick is doing all the thinking. My grandmother, Mamma Bea, told me the reason is because all the blood rushes to the guy’s penis, and he can’t concentrate.
“Hi,” I said as I sat in the chair across from Eli. He perked up and flashed his perfect white, toothy smile at me.
“What did you think of Mahlia?” he asked. “She’s hot, right?”
The wheels in my mind were turning, trying to think of something positive to say.
“She’s definitely hot.” I couldn’t disagree with that. “Where is she?”
“She had to get back to work.” He continued with the wide smile, and I frowned at him.
“Where did you meet her?”
“I was having dinner at the Burger Barn, next door to the Cut and Blow.”
I raised an eyebrow in question. He rarely ate red meat and never a burger. He continued, “I had my hair cut, because I’m going with the parental units to Melissa Jo’s wedding on Sunday. When was the last time you saw our parents?”
Crap. I’d forgotten I promised my mom I would go to my cousin Melissa Jo’s wedding. “You were telling me about Mahlia.”
“I was eating a chicken sandwich.”
Only Eli would eat chicken at a burger joint. “And?” I asked, trying to steer him toward Mahlia and away from my lack of family values.
“And she walked over and asked if she could sit with me, because she was all by herself.”
Bless her little heart. “Where’s she from?” I took a sip out of my iced coffee and waited to see what kind of lie she was telling.
“Get this: she’s from New York City, just like Mom.” His voice escalated with his good fortune. Our mother would approve of a fellow New Yorker. “Except Mahlia’s from Manhattan.”
Our mom was from a different borough of New York City, but this didn’t make a difference in the camaraderie of a New Yorker away from the motherland.
I rolled my eyes. OK, I would play along. “What does she do for a living?”
“She’s a model.” He sat back in his chair and interlocked his fingers behind his head, smiling.
“Wow, a model.” My forced enthusiasm went unnoticed by my brother.
“I know, right?”
“Why is she in Coffee Creek?”
“She was doing a video shoot for some online company.” He removed his hands and stood up as if he might jump up and down with happiness. “Do you know what the best part is?”
“Her legs are longer than a giraffe’s?”
“No.” He stopped and grinned. “They are long, aren’t they?” He put his
hands on the desk and leaned forward until he was in my face. “She drives a Harley.”
Damn. She even let him see her vessel. “You didn’t share any of our family secrets, did you?”
“Like what?” He looked confused. I was pretty sure Eli didn’t know about the gift of time travel or the magic keys.
“I’m just kidding,” I said. “Did she drive her Harley all the way from New York?”
“No, she is staying in Dallas for a while and had it transported here.”
I nodded my head as if that was a cool thing, but I knew she’d just hopped on her Harley and motored here via lateral travel. My brain was still trying to comprehend why she would be here. Maybe she was trying to get my key. Well, over my dead body. Actually, that was the only way. What if she was going to have me killed? My inner voice pulled out her bucket list and teared up at the thought of all the things she wouldn’t be checking off.
“Earth to Jen,” Eli said, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
I pulled myself back to attention and away from my imminent demise.
“I was saying Mahlia isn’t full of herself like other girls I’ve met who are models. And get this…she wants to meet the family.”
I bet she does.
“In fact, I might bring her to Melissa Jo’s wedding.”
Oh, jeez. I had to put a stop to this before she became Eli’s plus-one at our family function.
My inner voice was making a list of the places I might find Mahlia: the nail salon, the spa, getting an expensive blowout, Caiyan’s bedroom. OK, that last one I was striking off the list. As far as I knew, Caiyan had stayed away from her. He didn’t have a key, so she would have had to pop in on him. Maybe she was still at Eli’s apartment. If she’d spent the night, I’m sure she would need time to pack her Louis Vuitton luggage with her magic mirror and evil spells.
Paulina poked her head in and let Eli know about the patient who was ready. He practically floated out the door, and I didn’t have the heart to burst the lust bubble levitating him to danger.
I scooted upstairs and let myself into Eli’s apartment. I heard someone in the bedroom, so I used my stealth mode to sneak up on her.
She was zipping her overnight bag (Louis Vuitton) and had her back to me. “If you are going to sneak up on me, you should probably be a lot quieter.” She turned and came face-to-face with me.
Damn. She was four inches taller than me with the heels, which gave her the advantage.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I’m packing my things to take to UPS,” she said as she motioned toward her luggage. “I have to mail them. You know how difficult it is to travel with baggage.”
“Why are you messing with my brother?”
“I like him; he’s cute,” she said as if she were talking about a new puppy.
“What are you after?” I crossed my arms over my chest and took a wide stance.
“Jennifer, I think we should call a truce.” She moved away from me and picked up her purse—the new Kate Spade Lietta cross-body bag with the sparkly tassel—from the dresser. “I mean, your brother is a great guy. Any girl would be lucky to have his attention.”
“You’re not any girl, and I want you to stay away from him.”
“Are you going to make me?” she asked with a challenging glint in her eye.
“Yes, I am,” I said as I took a step forward.
“You’re not wearing your key.” She pointed to my empty neck. “Did it clash with your outfit?”
I touched the bare spot where my key usually lay.
“Or did you get in trouble, and the big boys took it away from you?” Her sarcastic tone bounced around the room. “What do they call that? Oh yes, grounded, like a misbehaving toddler.” She stood in front of me, hands on hips. Her purse dangled by its strap from her shoulder.
I balled up my fists and took a swing, just as I’d learned in my training. She dodged me with an acrobatic lunge. I swung again and grabbed a handful of her hair. Pulling her around, I slapped at her face. Jake would not be happy about my fighting technique. She was holding me at arm’s length by my head and fumbling with her shoulder bag.
I had a wad of her hair and was about to wrestle her to the ground when I heard a loud clicking noise and felt a sharp jolt under my ribcage. I fell to the floor in pain. The bitch had outsmarted me.
She stood over me holding her stun gun, watching me writhe and slobber on myself.
“That’s a good look for you,” she said as she snapped a selfie with me in the background and let herself out the door.
A few minutes later, I was able to drag myself to the bathroom and wash my face in Eli’s sink. My plan to fake a nasty stomach bug and leave work early so I could make my travel to Gitmo was no longer necessary. My pasty complexion, nausea, and headache would be enough to convince Eli I wasn’t feeling well and needed to go home.
Chapter 3
I recovered from my Mahlia encounter and was dressed and ready by four o’clock. A pink mohair cardigan layered over my favorite white tank, skinny jeans, and blush studio flats would be acceptable for my meeting with Major General Arthur C. Potts. He’s the military personnel in charge of the WTF on the naval base at Guantanamo Bay, better known as GITMO. We are a covert operation in the basement of the most terrifying prison in the world, hidden from all eyes of the government except the president and his close advisers. I was informed we could be used as a weapon if the right people knew about us.
Travelers had to use extreme caution when traveling laterally. We valued our freedom, and that freedom would be revoked if we were caught spying on the enemy, so to speak.
Luckily, President Lyndon Johnson had used great foresight when developing the WTF and had made a special doctrine that no member of the WTF could be used to aid in the military functions of the world. I am sure he wrote this with a heavy heart, because sending a traveler back to stop the evils of Hitler, Saddam Hussein, or Osama Bin Laden—just to name a few—would have saved lives. But it also would have changed life as we know it, and that’s a pretty big risk.
Brodie had returned from his family duties, and the pots and pans had been clanging against the pot rack since I had returned from work. It was quiet at the moment, and I sat at the kitchen table sipping a Coke while I waited on Ace.
The wind spun outside, and a flash of lightning stroked the window, announcing Ace’s arrival. He knocked politely, and I pulled open the sliding glass door. His long brown hair was tucked back in a tight ponytail, and he wore white skinny jeans, a baby-blue Marc Jacobs button-down with black suspenders, and a black polka-dot bow tie. His five o’clock shadow gave him the Russell Brand appearance he was going for, and I loved the look on him. He often dressed in drag when he went to parties, but when he reported to the WTF, female attire was a big no-no.
“’Ello, love,” he said as he entered my house. I gave him a side hug and admired his new canvas shoes.
“Are those Sperry?” I asked.
“No. These babies are the latest driving loafer by BOSS—you like?” He extended his foot so I could admire the new shoes.
“No,” I said, and Ace’s face fell. “I love them!” This got a smile and a swat on the arm.
My first job out of college had been as an assistant shoe buyer for Steve Stone shoes. I had loved purchasing the shoes for next season—and the great discount. Unfortunately, Steve Stone had been arrested for tax evasion and was serving time in the federal penitentiary. He was managing to run his business from jail, but it was online only. I guess he had plenty of time to buy his own inventory.
The banging from upstairs began again, and it rattled the canisters on the kitchen counter.
“What the ’ell’s that noise?” Ace asked.
“Brodie and Gertie,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“No kidding? I’m such a great matchmaker.” He patted himself on the back.
“Didn’t you blackmail Brodie by threatening to tell Jake about a certain trip to th
e past that involved stealing a valuable sapphire necklace from a certain royal jewelry collection that should have ended up in the Titanic at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean?”
Ace flashed his Cheshire cat smile. “Hon, I have lots of stored information on every traveler. Your man better be on his best behavior, because you never know when that information might surface.”
Caiyan had confided in me about the blackmail on Brodie, and I didn’t want to know what else Ace had in his memory banks. “I will be sure and keep my nose clean, just in case.”
“Oh, doll, you wouldn’t steal a thing. It’s just not in your blood,” Ace said, flicking his hand in the air.
Maybe stealing was not one of my strong points, but I hoped being a good transporter was in there somewhere. I wondered if the gods ever made a mistake—like maybe I was a mutation, and the gene for time travel should have passed to Gertie instead.
“Let’s go, doll,” Ace said, motioning toward the back door. “All that thinking has your hair starting to frizz.”
I shouted good-bye up to the ceiling as we left the house.
The sun was shining, and the tiny buds of roses were showing themselves around my vessel. “It won’t be long now,” I said to my outhouse as we walked by, and I thought it stood up a little straighter.
Ace and I climbed into his vessel, a 1950s-style photo booth. The purple-velvet seat cushions and the piped-in music gave it all the comforts of home. Ace liked to travel in style but wouldn’t reveal his secrets to anyone. I had tried to put a chenille cushion in my outhouse to make the ride a little less hard on my rear end, and the outhouse had vomited me and the cushion out the door.
Ace pulled the curtain, closing us off from the outside world; mumbled his travel password; and in three magic flashes, we were sitting at Gitmo.
“Was that a Taylor Swift song playing?” I asked while admiring the black-and-white photo strips he had plastered all over his vessel. Most of them were of the unconscious brigands he had transported back to Gitmo, but a few were pictures of Ace and me. I especially liked the one of us in front of the Eiffel tower. I would have to ask him for a copy.