Heartless (Crossbreed Series Book 9)

by Dannika Dark

  Wyatt folded his arms. “Hey, Valentine. You practicing for your new job?”

  Claude opened his luminous eyes and wet his lips, a blissful expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

  Wyatt gestured toward Claude’s massive erection.

  When Claude looked down, he behaved as if he had no clue how that thing got inside his fitted grey sweatpants. He yanked his bag off the chair next to him and held it over his lap.

  “That’s one of those massaging chairs, isn’t it?” Wyatt cackled. “That’s a therapy session I ain’t got time for.”

  Claude blushed all the way down to his neck. “I forgot where I was.” When he lurched out of the chair, we glimpsed his erection again.

  “I’ll say.” Wyatt reached for one of his bags. “What’s in there?”

  Claude jerked the bag away to cover himself, and I threw back my head and laughed.

  Wyatt patted him on the arm. “I’ve heard that thinking of your mother helps.”

  “The chair has little knobs that go deep. It’s like hands rubbing all over your body,” Claude said, trying to explain his physical condition. Perhaps the hysterical part was that he couldn’t seem to get it back under control. It had a mind of its own, and it wanted more of that chair.

  I reached in my bag and showed him a leather bra with silver spikes. “Look what I got.”

  His eyes rounded before he looked away. “That doesn’t help.”

  “Maybe today wasn’t a good idea to wear tight sweats.”

  Wyatt chortled. “I don’t think any day is a good day for a man to wear tight sweats.”

  Meanwhile, the lady on the bench was in a fantasy world that centered on a tall, handsome Adonis named Claude Valentine. Once she realized that he was six and a half feet tall, she drank him in, ignoring all social rules of conduct, sucking on her plastic spoon with wanton abandon.

  Claude tunneled his fingers through his golden locks, and it seemed like every gesture made him look like a male model. “Are we leaving?”

  “Not yet,” I informed him. “Do you know where I can buy contact lenses? Viktor doesn’t want me to stand out, so I need a brown contact lens for my blue eye.”

  “I wager there’s one around here. Did you buy a mask?”

  “For what?”

  A smile touched his lips. “You weren’t paying attention in the van.”

  “I was sending Christian messages on my phone.”

  “And ignoring Viktor’s shopping rules. It wasn’t on Christian’s list, but he wants us to wear a mask. Just the ones that cover the eyes. Shepherd noticed a lot of workers wearing them, and it’ll help us to better hide our identity.”

  Not a bad idea. We didn’t get out much, but there was always a chance someone might recognize us—especially if they happened to be one of the aristocratic bastards we mingled with at charity functions. It was one of many reasons why I didn’t mingle. Only a few of the higher authority members knew we worked for Keystone since we didn’t go around advertising it, but some might find it odd that a person invited to an exclusive party was working in a fantasy club.

  Then again, we lived in an unconventional world.

  I walked past Claude. “Any concerns about the mission?”

  He fell into step beside me. “I’m worried I might run into one of my clients in the club.”

  I waggled my eyebrows at him. “That might work in your favor for extra bookings.”

  He turned toward the elevators. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  We stepped inside the glass elevator. Claude smiled sexily at the lady on the bench ahead of us. “Have a pleasant afternoon, female.”

  As the doors closed, the woman dropped her cup of melted ice cream all over the floor.

  “Maybe we should hitch a ride home with Shepherd,” Claude suggested as he looked out the glass wall behind us. “Viktor’s probably lost.”

  “No, he just sent a message to wait near the entrance where we came in.” Wyatt tucked his phone back in his pocket. “He’s buying a watch. You know, watches will become obsolete one day. Phones do everything. I still remember my first pocket watch. It was a dandy. That was before batteries came along. You had to wind them up.”

  The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out. “What happened to it?”

  “My horse ate it.”

  I turned to see if he was joking.

  Wyatt’s boot heels knocked against the shiny floor. “Billy was a nuisance.”

  “You had a horse named Billy?”

  He stopped by a palm tree. “He’d eat everything in sight… like a billy goat.”

  Claude turned in a circle and scoped the long hall. “What happened to Billy?”

  Wyatt stood on top of a bench. “Billy dropped dead at a hitching rail. Cause of death unknown.”

  “I guess his time was up. Maybe it was your pocket watch.” I set my bags down when a thought came to mind. “Do you see animal ghosts?”

  He shook his head. “Who do I look like? Doctor Dolittle?”

  “You sure do little to share your snacks with friends,” Claude quipped.

  Wyatt jumped off the bench and gave a winsome smile to a short-haired brunette. “Hey, buttercup. May I have the pleasure of escorting you to your destination?” Without asking, he followed her.

  Hunter and Shepherd were taking a quick trip down the escalator. Hunter nervously held on to the side as he peered over the edge.

  Claude’s nostrils flared as he pulled in my emotional scent. “You’re nervous.”

  “I’m just thinking about the assignment.” I lifted my bags and watched Hunter trying to walk up the down escalator. “Christian can’t come, and we work well together.”

  Claude put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be there, and I won’t let any harm come to you, female. And I’ll do everything I can to weed out any suspects.”

  “What makes Viktor think his plan will work?”

  “He’s very skilled at setting traps, and I’m certain that he’s not only worked out the odds but also has a backup plan. Criminals are stupid. They stick to the same routine.”

  Claude had a point. Criminals were creatures of habit. Even I had developed a routine when I lived on the streets. Recognizing my own habits made trapping my targets that much easier.

  When Shepherd and Hunter finally made it off the escalator, Hunter scampered toward us, blue lights blinking on the soles of his new shoes.

  “Hey, little monkey.” Wyatt entered the scene, tucking a slip of paper into his pocket. “Those are some snappy shoes.”

  Hunter beamed, oblivious to an older woman walking by who was gawking at him. We’d gotten so used to his facial scar that it wasn’t until he garnered public stares that we were reminded of it.

  Shepherd mussed Hunter’s hair from behind him. “Show them your socks.”

  Hunter obligingly lifted his pant leg and showed off his pink socks. The horizontal black stripes went all the way up to his knees.

  Shepherd lit up a cigarette and tossed the match on the floor. “I think he likes them better than the shoes. Kinda like having a secret under his pants.”

  Wyatt stretched. “Yup. I know exactly what that’s like.”

  Claude frowned, and lines bunched up between his eyebrows. “You shouldn’t make innuendos around a child.”

  “That kid has no idea what we’re talking about,” Wyatt said dismissively. “Besides, you shouldn’t get worked up over a little innuendo considering what we do for a living. You think that’s not gonna traumatize him?”

  Shepherd exhaled and stared down the long hall. He abruptly waved the smoke away from his face and squinted. “Is that who I think it is?”

  I craned my neck to see around a kiosk. Heading in our direction at breakneck speed was Gem on a pogo stick. Her shoulder-length hair bounced up and down like butterfly wings as people cleared the way. Some laughed, and a few others pulled out their phones to take video, but she would be nothing but a blur of movement. The purple pogo stick til
ted forward, and the sound of the spring made heads turn. If that wasn’t enough of a spectacle, a flustered man in a blue work shirt was chasing after her. Gem glanced over her shoulder at him, and the next thing I knew, that stick soared high into the air.

  Hunter squealed with delight and clapped his hands.

  “I’ll meet you outside!” she said, bouncing right over Wyatt as he ducked.

  Blue’s falcon swooped down from the second floor and plucked the toupee right off the man’s head.

  Shepherd pivoted on his heel to watch Gem bounce away. He puffed on his cigarette. “This looks like something we’ll have to deny later.”

  Chapter 6

  After placing my ruby necklace inside my jewelry box for safekeeping, I took one final glance at my reflection in the standing mirror. I barely recognized myself. I was Raven 2.0—what I might look like had I gone another way and lived on the fringes of society.

  While Christian had provided a list of appropriate attire, clothes weren’t the whole package. After applying vanilla-scented lotion to my entire body, I borrowed makeup from Gem. I went heavy with the smoky eye even though I’d be wearing a mask. Deep burgundy lipstick was my favorite, so I used a heavy matte that would make my lips stand out. I didn’t own a curling iron, but the club would probably be too hot to worry about hair anyhow, so I tied it up in a sexy knot.

  I turned to the side, admiring the zippers on the sides of my leather shorts. The two buckles in front were a nice touch, especially for shorts that weren’t low-rise. I needed to ensure the Keystone tattoo on my hip remained covered. Despite the leather corset with buckles up the front, I wasn’t exactly pinup material. I didn’t have voluptuous curves or a soft body. Instead, you could see lean muscles on my arms and thighs. My hands weren’t dainty but made for punching a man’s lights out. Perhaps those were the features Christian wanted me to show off. If it weren’t for the over-the-knee boots, I’d look naked.

  I closed my bedroom door and marched toward Wyatt’s World on floor two like a soldier heading to battle. The whole house could probably hear me coming as I tromped down the stairs, ready to toss Christian out the window for making me buy these slutty clothes.

  As soon as I reached the room, I bored a hole through the back of Christian’s skull as he looked inside Wyatt’s vending machine.

  I flung papers at his back, and they showered the floor. “I’ve memorized my alias, you sadistic fanghole. And just to clear the air, I’m not using prostitution as a former job. If anyone asks, I was a thief.”

  When Shepherd’s cigarette fell out of his mouth, he launched from the sofa, patting the lit cherry off his crotch.

  Wyatt turned in his chair, and his jaw dropped. “Holy Toledo! You’re a woman.”

  Christian half turned, peering at me over his shoulder with a hot look.

  Gem poked her head out from the beanbag chair where she was watching an old musical. “Is that for real?” She scrambled out of the chair and skirted around it, her violet eyes saucer-wide. “I don’t think I’m mad anymore about not going. No offense, Raven, but you look like a hooker.”

  No one else was in the room, and I guessed Niko was resting after a long day training me.

  I glanced down at my cleavage. “Objects are smaller than they appear. The corset is squeezing the hell out of everything, and I feel more naked without my weapons than I do wearing this outfit.”

  “No complaints here.” Wyatt waggled his eyebrows as he wolfed down his Three Musketeers. “Do me a favor and spin around so we can see everything.”

  Shepherd swaggered to Wyatt’s desk and leaned against it. He gave his partner a hard look. “If you keep on with that mouth, the only thing you’ll be seeing is my fist.”

  “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”

  “Button it up, Spooky.”

  That was the first time Shepherd had ever defended my honor, and it made me squirm.

  Wyatt tossed the candy wrapper into the trash. “We need to leave soon. I’ve got everyone’s hotel booked. Raven, you’re coming with me, and Shepherd’s dropping Claude off a block away. I booked him at a hotel near his salon to make his life easy.”

  Christian leaned against the vending machine, arms folded. “Those boots weren’t on my approved list.”

  I shifted my stance. “You didn’t specify anything about shoes. I had to improvise.”

  “Take them off.”

  I folded my arms. “Make me.”

  Clutching her quartz pendant, Gem backed away as if someone had lit a stick of dynamite.

  Christian stalked toward me and knelt at my feet. Before I knew it, he yanked down the zipper on one of the boots. Then he flung it across the room. I would have smacked him, but my brain went on hold when he ran his hand up my leg and slowly lifted his gaze. “Your legs are your best asset.”

  Shepherd and Wyatt turned away, grimacing at each other and hunching their shoulders.

  “And you expect me to walk around in my socks?”

  He reached beneath Wyatt’s desk and pulled out a brown box. Shepherd scooted aside as Christian popped off the lid and tossed the white tissue paper aside.

  I sucked in a sharp breath when I saw the boots.

  Expensive Christian Louboutin boots.

  I reached inside and touched the red bottom of one. “Hello, darling.”

  Christian set the box down and put the sexy ankle boots on my feet. They fit like a glove.

  I lifted one leg to look at the bottom. “Are the heels stunners?”

  Wyatt snorted. “Leave it to Raven to ask a question like that.”

  Christian let his fingers trail up my thigh as he stood up. “I’m afraid I didn’t have time to customize your footwear, but I wager they’ll hurt all the same when planted firmly in an eye socket.”

  I smiled at him. “Good thinking.”

  Wyatt cracked open a can of root beer. “I put a tracker inside one of them, so be like Dorothy and don’t take them off.”

  I looked them over, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. “How?”

  He wiggled his fingers. “Magic. I know a guy who makes microchips. Just do me a favor and don’t get them wet.”

  Blue hustled into the room, her face beaming with excitement. “Wait’ll you see this,” she said quietly.

  Christian and I parted like the Red Sea and faced the doorway. A few seconds later, Claude appeared in nothing but combat boots and skintight shorts.

  Shiny. Gold. Shorts.

  His look soured when he was greeted by wolf whistles and stunned looks.

  Claude’s skin had a soft golden hue, but now it shimmered as if someone had dipped him in a vat of gold. I swiped my finger across his bicep and looked at the creamy residue that left flecks of glitter on my hands when I tried to wipe it off. Claude had curly hair but not tight curls. His lustrous blond locks were large and messy—like those Greek statues I’d seen in books.

  “Jesus fuck,” Shepherd muttered. “You’re not riding in my car with that shit all over you. I’ll be picking it out of my seats for the next century.”

  Claude’s eyebrows sloped down as he gave Christian a thorny look. “Blame the Vamp. Body glitter was on his list. Or was this a joke?”

  “It’s not a joke,” I said, drawing his attention to my outfit.

  Claude glowered. “At least you have a shirt on.”

  Wyatt spun his chair back around to look at his computer screen. “Since when do you wear a shirt around here? I’ve seen more of your nipples than I’ve seen from my dates.”

  “He’s got you there.” Blue’s jaunty smile belied the black mood I’d found her in earlier. “I wouldn’t worry about standing out. You’ll blend in with everyone else. Just another piece of meat.”

  Christian snapped his fingers. “That reminds me.” He reached for a small bag beneath his desk and handed it to Claude. “Since you couldn’t find any at the mall, I bought these at the costume shop.”

  Inside the bag was a handful of masks that would
cover our eyes. Some were fabric and a few were embroidered lace. The cloth ones reminded me of the Zorro mask that Hunter sometimes wore.

  Wyatt typed on his keyboard. “I think Claude should just paint his on. That would look awesome—like a superhero or something. Captain Glitter.”

  “He looks like a unicorn pissed on him,” Shepherd remarked.

  Blue plopped down on the sofa. “I don’t know. I think he resembles a prestigious award.”

  Claude heaved a sigh before exiting the room. We all stared at his buns in those tight shorts, and they were something to behold. With broad shoulders, nice legs, and a V-shaped torso, Claude was the whole package.

  Yep. This was going to be a memorable assignment.

  Wyatt turned the steering wheel with one hand and grabbed a handful of fries out of a paper sack with the other. Between bites, he would shift gears, leaving granules of salt all over the place. I couldn’t get used to sitting on what was supposed to be the driver’s side. Wyatt’s red 1971 Austin Mini Cooper looked like a toy with its bucket seats, manual windows, loud engine, and one blue door.

  I cracked my window. “Did we really need to stop at McDonald’s? Now I smell like you.”

  Steering the car with his knee, he rolled up the sack and tossed it in the back seat. “They should bottle this stuff and make it into perfume. Food is the only way to attract men. Do you have your alias memorized?”

  “Yep.”

  Wyatt gave me a dubious look. “Run it by me.”

  “I’m Robin White. It sounds like a talk show host.”

  “It’ll be easy to remember since it’s the opposite color. Where are you from, Robin?”

  “Right here in Cognito. What if they try to look me up?”

  When he turned a sharp corner, I gripped the door. “The number one rule about pulling off a false identity is making it as close to the truth as possible. Let’s pretend you lied about being from New York. Then the guy says, ‘Hey, me too. I grew up on Arthur Avenue. Whereabouts are you from? What school did you go to?’ That’s a rookie mistake. Always keep it close to the truth. The only thing you’re changing up is the story about your maker and background.”