by Logan Fox
“Couldn’t agree more,” Tanner said.
He snapped his fingers in Pearl and Ivy’s direction, gesturing at the dirty dishes.
Pearl’s legs moved forward on their own. She hurriedly stacked half of the dishes on her tray and left, walking as fast as the heavy tray and her stilettos would allow.
A few seconds later, she heard Ivy’s heels clicking behind her on the hallway’s fawn-colored tiles.
“How long?” the girl murmured. “I’m fucking starving.”
“Ditto,” Pearl said, glancing behind her. “Think Scotty will feed us?”
“Doubt it.” Ivy twisted her mouth. “Woman’s not exactly the mothering type.”
Pearl sighed, stepping into the kitchen and heading straight for the basin. Suzie was there already, elbows deep in soap suds. Scotty was nowhere to be seen. Then again, Pearl hadn’t heard clanging dishes or faint Russian curses for quite some time. Maybe the woman was done for the day.
Suzie looked up as Pearl came near, wiping a chunk of hair from her eyes with the back of a soapy hand.
“Thanks,” she said dryly, when Pearl began unloading the tray.
“Sorry.”
The girl shrugged. “It’s my job. Just… would you scrape them clean for me?” She rubbed her nose with that same hand, leaving a trail of bubbles behind. “Trash is over there.”
Pearl followed the girl’s eyes and took those plates that still had food on them over to it. Ivy was already busy scraping her plates into the trash, head low and curls obscuring her face.
“Hey, Suzie?” Pearl asked, raising her voice over the squee of cutlery against crockery. “Any chance we can get something to eat?”
Suzie paused, again rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. She shrugged.
“Sure. I haven’t done the pots yet. Pretty sure there’s still food in there — Scotty always makes too much.”
Ivy let out a relieved sigh, abandoning her plate scraping, and darted over to the stove. She lifted the lids and stuck her nose in the steam that wafted up.
“God, that smells good.”
“Gorsan,” Suzie supplied, giving a pair of tongs a ferocious scrub. “Is that Arab guy here again? What’s his name… M-something—”
“Malik,” Pearl cut in. “He’s been here before?”
Suzie nodded. She slid a handful of plates into the water, pausing to roll her shoulders.
“Comes here a few times a week and then disappears for a month or two again. Scotty cooks this stuff every time he’s here. When I see an order of lamb and saffron arrives, I know Malik’s coming.” She sighed heavily. “And I know I have a shitload of dishes to do.”
Ivy grabbed a discarded roti bread lying half-off the kitchen counter like some culinary equivalent of Dali’s ‘Persistence of Memory’ and began heaping the dripping, meaty stew into it.
“Hurry, Pearl.” The girl said before taking a huge bite out of her impromptu burrito.
Pearl put her plate down, glancing around for another roti. She found a discarded pita bread instead, decided to ignore the splash of sauce Scotty had messed on it, and crowded in beside Ivy.
“This one,” Ivy said, words slightly muffled by the mouthful of food. “Fuckin’ ‘mazin’.”
“Suzie?” Pearl asked, leaning around Ivy to look at the girl.
Suzie glanced across, wriggled her nose, and shook her head.
“Your loss.” Pearl grabbed the ladle and stuffed her pita with a mixture of Ivy’s suggestion and another divine smelling stew pot.
For several minutes, the only sound was Suzie’s methodical clanking as she made her way through the mountain of dishes.
“So, is he like a business partner?” Pearl asked, sucking her fingertips clean of a tantalizingly spicy sauce that left her lips tingling. “Does he have shares in the Fox Pit or something?”
“No idea,” Suzie said. She sighed and pulled her hands out of the water, peering around the kitchen. “Is that everything?”
“Pots,” Ivy said, scooping another heap of stew from one of them.
Suzie waved dismissively at the girl. “Not when there’s still food in them. I have to put it in containers and stuff. Scotty gives it to the bodyguards.”
Pearl stiffened. “Hey, where are they? I thought they followed Tanner around like a pair of shadows.”
“They do,” Suzie slid with her back down the basin cabinet, resting her head against the door as she draped her wrist over her knees and closed her eyes. “But not when Malik’s here. Probably doesn’t like it.”
Pearl shrugged, waved away Ivy’s proffered falafel, and went to the basin to wash her hands.
“I can see up your skirt,” Suzie said with a giggle.
“Good for you,” Pearl muttered. She dried her hands on a semi-clean dishtowel, tugged her dress straight, and stepped back before Suzie could make any more comments.
“So you’re sleeping with him, right?” Ivy said.
Suzie made an angry sound and used the edge of the basin to haul herself to her feet.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Pearl shrugged. “Because it’s true.”
“It’s not.” The strawberry-blond threw her a glare. “That’s illegal, you know. He could get locked up.”
Pearl stared at the girl for a few seconds. That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it? Especially if Tanner was the one responsible for those dead bodies. It wasn’t impossible to picture: Tanner in one of his rages, strangling a girl who’d pissed off a business associate of his.
She stifled a shudder.
“We should get back,” Ivy said. She glanced across at Suzie. “There anything else we need to take?”
“More coffee.” Her scowl slowly dissipated. “Let me fill it up.”
Pearl waited at the kitchen’s archway, her head out of the room as she strained to hear a sound from the dining room. With such a long stretch of hallway separating them, the only thing she could make out was the occasional sound of laughter.
“Come on.” Ivy walked past her, balancing a freshly made — single-serving — pot of coffee on her tray. “Sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave.”
But the girl sounded despondent; she probably knew as well as Pearl that they were still going to be here a while.
12
Tanner’s Little Fox
The stench of weed slammed into Pearl further down the hall. Pearl hesitated, nose twitching, but Ivy didn’t seem to notice or care; the girl strode into the dining room without pausing.
Pearl’s heels clattered against the tiles as she hurried to catch up.
Tanner perched on the edge of the table, the shisha’s mouthpiece against his lips. His eyes were already fixed on the doorway, as if waiting for Pearl to step inside. Ivy set the coffee pot down beside Tanner’s hip, flinching when the man grabbed one of her curls and tugged it.
“On your knees,” Tanner said.
Pearl stiffened. She’d left her tray in the kitchen but closed her hand over her stomach instead, trying to suppress its sudden lurch.
Tanner’s eyes were still on her but he’d turned his head to direct his order at Ivy.
Ivy sank to her knees, bowing her head.
Pearl’s heart began knocking into her ribs. Was he seriously just going to whip it out and make Ivy blow him in front of that dignified, golden-eyed man?
Even Malik seemed suddenly uncomfortable — a crease formed above his dark, thick brows as his gaze slid from Tanner to Ivy.
“My guest is looking a bit piqued, baby girl. Won’t you give him a rub?”
Finally, Tanner’s gaze unpinned Pearl, instead fixing on Ivy’s bowed head.
Ivy nodded, curls bouncing. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” Tanner flicked his fingers at Pearl without looking up.
Pearl’s stomach grew tighter. Her feet moved mechanically under her as she stepped forward. The pale, thick carpet felt spongy beneath her, the air too warm, too choked with weed.
Ivy shifted, head still bowed, and placed her palms on Malik’s thighs.
The man shifted, letting out a small laugh before cutting off the sound. He grabbed Ivy’s wrists, halting them as she began to slide her hands up his legs.
“A foot rub,” Tanner said, sounding as if he was barely holding back a laugh himself. “Sorry, Malik. Our foxes are always so eager to please.”
“That’s a good trait for a woman to have,” Malik said.
Pearl tore her eyes away from Tanner, giving Malik a scowl. Ivy slid her hands down Malik’s thighs, closing her fingers over his ankle and drawing his foot into her lap. The man sighed as she began working the sole of his foot with her thumbs.
Tanner laughed, slid off the table, and collapsed on his chair wearing a dopey grin. He scooted it back a few feet, leaving enough space for Pearl to sink down on her knees in front of it without bumping into Ivy. But when Pearl didn’t move, when Pearl didn’t take her slitted eyes off Malik, Tanner snapped his fingers.
“Pearl.”
She blinked, swinging to face Tanner. Every trace of merriment had left his face. His grey eyes were stormy, his mouth set in a thin line.
Shaking her head, Pearl walked over to him. He straightened a leg, wriggling his toes until she went onto her knees and hoisted it into her lap. The sole of his foot was cool, hard, and smooth. There was a dusting of light-brown hairs on his toes. His toenails were as immaculate as his fingernails — he probably sprang for a mani-pedi at least once a week. She’d never given anyone a foot rub before. It felt strangely intimate. He wriggled his toes again, and she spent a few seconds kneading the pad of his big toe and squishing the fleshy bits above his heel.
“Fuck,” Tanner snapped, jerking his foot free. “You’re unbelievably bad at this.”
Pearl stared up at him, wide eyed, mouth working. Tanner grimaced and flicked his fingertips at her.
“Go get us dessert.”
“Scotty didn’t—” Pearl began, scrambling to her feet.
“Ask Suzie.” Tanner’s lip jerked into another grimace as he stared down at his foot and wriggled his toes. “She knows.”
Pearl turned away, blinking in confusion. Was she really that bad? Honestly, wasn’t a foot rub just that — rubbing someone’s foot? Who the hell knew you needed a PHD in reflexology?
Suzie wasn’t in the kitchen. Pearl hunted around in the fridge for Tanner’s dessert, but she didn’t find anything that looked as if it had been specially prepared for today. Should she go deeper into Tanner’s apartment and—
Weed. Her nose twitched again.
Someone stood behind her, close enough for her to smell the dank stink coming off of him.
Tanner.
Pearl swallowed, glancing over her shoulder. How had he managed to sneak up on her like that? He stood no more than a foot or two away from her, a hand pressed to the counter, eyes fixed on the back of her head.
She turned, tilting her head. “Couldn’t find anything.”
“Because there wasn’t anything to find.” Tanner took a step closer. He inhaled a deep breath, laying his hand on the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. His thumb touched the side of her throat.
Was he going to kiss her? This seemed too romantic for the likes of him. But he didn’t move — just held his thumb against her throat and his hand on her neck.
His gaze flickered between her eyes. This close, those grey orbs were a maelstrom of light blues and pale greens with jets of darker navy spearing through like the afterimage of lightning. The slight reddening of his corneas from the weed only seemed to make those irises brighter.
“He doesn’t want you,” Tanner murmured. His thumb pressed harder into her throat — a subtle weight against her muscle. “Why doesn’t Malik want you?”
Pearl swallowed again, working her tongue against the roof of her mouth in an effort to produce saliva.
“I don’t know,” she managed. “Prefers brunettes, I guess.”
“Apparently he does.” Tanner drew an audible breath, his exhalation stirring the fine hairs on her cheeks. “Which is strange… because he never used to. He’s always had a thing for redheads.”
She forced her shoulder into a shrug. “People change.”
“Rarely,” Tanner said quietly. “No…” he began brushing his thumb up and down her neck. “I think something more sinister is going on here.”
Pearl’s stomach was already tight — now it coiled like an icy spring, weighing uneasily in her belly.
“Sinister?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Your eyes,” he said. “That’s the only thing you can’t change, right?”
Pearl took a small step back. “Unless you get contacts, I guess.”
When Tanner didn’t respond, she lifted her hand, describing a vague circle by her face.
“You know… the ones that change the color of—”
Tanner stepped forward in a rush, pinning her against the cabinet with his hips. His eyes were slits now; his mouth a faint, trembling line. Pearl’s hands slammed onto the counter behind her as Tanner leaned into her.
“I knew you’d come back,” he said. “Just didn’t think it would take you this long.”
Pearl blinked up at him. The grip around her throat tightened. Not to the point of strangulation; just as if he was trying to hold her here, as if she would fade into a wisp of smoke and escape his fingers if he didn’t keep her locked in place.
Come back? She’d never left.
“Tanner, what—”
“So this is all part of it? The pranks… the games?” His eyes flashed away from her, to something else; something in a different plane of existence — or a different time. “You always were a sneak. A trickster. Loki… with a fox’s tail.”
“Tanner—” she tried again, hoping the sound of her voice would bring him back to reality, to the here and now. Because whatever he was seeing in the then and there… it terrified her.
His jaw bunched. Those fingers tightened again. Panic wormed its way deep into her intestines. Bile rose in her throat. Her chest constricted as she began squirming under him. Her hand flailed behind her, searching the counter top for something, anything, she could use to defend herself.
Tanner’s attention abruptly returned; eyes wide, lips parted. He gripped her chin with his other hand, tilting her head back at an uncomfortable angle. He twisted her face from side to side as his eyes studied hers.
“But your eyes…” he whispered.
Her hands closed around something round. A bowl. Smooth marble. A mortar.
His thumb dragged over her bottom lip, tugging it down.
“Your teeth. If you can change that, then what else?”
“I don’t know what—”
His thumb slid inside her mouth, cutting her off. It depressed her tongue, tasting of salt and garlic and coriander. Her mouth watered — perhaps in panic, perhaps in confusion. She swallowed, coughing.
Her fingers struggled to close around the mortar. It was big, the rim at least an inch thick. Forcing her fingers to close over that rim, she began dragging it closer. She hadn’t stopped writhing under him, trying to slide her hips out from behind his. But her struggles were inconsequential — she could go nowhere with that hold on her throat.
“You’ve seen everything I’ve done for you,” Tanner asked. He drew his thumb from her mouth, smearing her lips with saliva. “That’s why you came back isn’t it, my little fox.”
Tears sprang into Pearl’s eyes. Her mouth quivered under his touch, her legs trembling as if considering depositing her on the floor.
She finally found a grip on the mortar. God, it was fucking heavy. Her wrist tweaked with pain as she hoisted it onto her palm.
“The gifts…” Tanner brought his head closer, until their lips brushed each other. His eyes slid closed. She could hear a smile in his voice now.
The fingers around her throat relaxed.
“The girls…” Another whisper, his lips tickling
her. She bit back a panicked whimper.
“All for you, Kitsune. It was all for you.”
His lips touched hers, gentle as a drop of rain on a cherry blossom. Her wrist went slack, the edge of the mortar clacking against the granite counter top.
“But why did it take you so fucking long?” He spoke through their kiss, the words breathless. “I almost gave up on you.”
Just as Pearl began responding to that slow, insistent kiss, Tanner’s hand grew tight. She gasped, pain licking at her throat as he began to restrict her windpipe.
She tugged her face away, letting out a wordless yell as she brought her hand around with all the strength she could muster.
The mortar connected with the side of Tanner’s head. There was a loud, muffled thud — the sound raced down her arm in a painful thrill — and Tanner stumbled backward.
His hand tore free from her throat.
He touched shaking fingers to his temple. His grey eyes were creased with confusion, a deep frown marring his forehead.
Pearl hoisted the mortar to her shoulder, holding it with both hands in case her numb fingers failed her.
“Kitsune?” Tanner murmured.
His fingertips were coated with blood. He stared at them, blinking rapidly. Then those eyes flashed up, his gaze pinning her.
“So that’s how you’re going to play this,” he said. He touched his fingertips to his mouth, sucking the blood off. A trickle worked its way down his cheekbone, slowing as it reached his bulging jaw.
Tanner laughed. “I guess you never were the type to just roll over. Or play dead.”
He lurched toward her, teeth peeling back in a grimace.
Pearl screamed. She brought the mortar up, but he caught her wrists, twisted, and tore the heavy marble free with a growl.
She turned, tripping over her own feet in her haste to make it to the door.
But Tanner caught her before she fell. Caught her and held her. Trapping her against his chest. A drop of blood splashed onto her nose. Another on her cheek. One above her eyebrow.
“Help! Someone—”
His hand slammed over her mouth, stifling the rest. Pearl bucked and twisted. She slammed her stiletto down on the bridge of his bare foot.