by Jax Garren
“Why? He can’t fight for shit, girl. What’s he got? Money? He’s gotta have something ’cause he can’t use his fists for shit.”
Rage turned the world red, and Rafael dropped to all fours, growing the giant horns and the massive body of a Cape buffalo. Two lumbering steps forward, and he knocked the jerk onto his ass.
The smell of ozone permeated the air. From the corner of his eye, he saw something move into the room in a hustle of white and blue. Before Rafael could get a good look, intense light flashed before his eyes, blinding him. An electric zap coursed through him, stabbing like hundreds of shots jabbing into him at once as he uncontrollably transformed back to his Coyote self. His whole body seized painfully, shaking so hard his teeth clacked just before his face met the rug.
“Not her!” EJ yelled.
Rafael tried to turn over to see what was happening, but nothing worked. The pain in his head increased until it engulfed his senses. Another flash of light ignited to his left, near Freyja—No! Then he blacked out.
Chapter 29
RAFAEL OPENED HIS EYES, and the world was still black. Afraid, he pushed backward reflexively, trying to get away from the nothing in front of him, and nearly toppled off whatever he was on. A hand clapped onto his back and shoved him forward, stopping his fall.
“Might want to stay still before you crack that star-boy face on the deck.” Whoever was talking clicked his tongue. “Bloody shame.” He didn’t sound like he’d care all that much.
Several things came to Rafael at once. The smell of salt water and tar. The rocking of a boat and the sound of waves. The sweatshirt keeping him too warm and the scratchy mask over his face with seams across the eyeholes—like they’d been stitched shut so he couldn’t see—that hit his lashes every time he blinked. His wrists were handcuffed behind him.
And he was no longer channeling Coyote.
Empty fear settled inside him as he tried to think of options. What were they doing on a boat? Luckily he could feel his godstone pressing into him right next to his hipbone, where he kept it in a makeshift pocket sewn just below the waistband of his jeans. But in handcuffs he couldn’t reach it without being obvious—if he could reach it at all.
Corpus Christi was a coastal city, and based on the wind and occasional spray, he was pretty sure he was on the deck of a boat out in the Gulf of Mexico. Judging by the utter lack of light coming through the mask, it was still night. A country Billboard hit played on crap speakers, singing about society driving a poor man to crime. Perfect... “Where’s Freyja?”
The man—by the voice, Rafael guessed it was EJ—snorted. “Not too far, not too far. You don’t have to worry about her anymore. I’ll watch out for her. Promise.”
He sounded strangely sincere, and it made Rafael want to puke. “Like hell—”
EJ poked him in the chest with deliberate force. “She know who you are?”
A new worry slipped over and through him. “You know who I am?”
That made the man laugh, and much to Rafael’s disappointment, it became clear he was well aware. “You’re kidding, right? I asked you a question.”
Rafael turned to see if there was any light, anything he could sense that might help them out.
“Yo, fucker. You’re kinda at my mercy here. Just answer the damn question before I lose my patience.”
“No,” Rafael growled at him. “And I don’t want her to know.”
“Good.” There was silence for a moment. Then the man breathed out heavily, like that made him happy. “Good. Yeah. Well, I’m sure you get all the pussy you want. Don’t need hers. Am I right? Lucky asshole.”
Good humor had returned to his voice, and he said the last part almost like they were friends gossiping in the mythical locker room where men were allowed to be dicks. Under normal circumstances Rafael would have told him where he could stuff that crude assumption, but maybe on a boat in the middle of the night with a bag over his head wasn’t the best place to... Oh, fuck it. “That’s disgusting. My job is about music.”
More laughter. “You’re a smug asshole. I see why she likes you.” He leaned in close enough Rafael could smell his aftershave. “She hates your awful music, though. You’d be less likely to get in her pants if she knew.” He leaned back. “She’s too good for a useless pretty boy like you anyway. You know that, right?”
Rafael stretched his neck, trying not to let the wannabe gangster’s words sink home, but it was hard to ignore when Rafael was well aware that he was right. “Makes two of us, huh?”
A thump to Rafael’s shoulder nearly sent him off the bench again, the hit hard enough to be serious but not hard enough to really hurt. Like the guy couldn’t decide if they were friends or about to knock out each other’s teeth. His amused but irritated voice didn’t help clarify which he was leaning toward. “You are not in a position to be talking shit.”
Throat dry, Rafael breathed in hard, wishing he could at least see. “Why am I out here?”
“Sit tight and you’ll be fine. We’re just making a delivery.”
Boat. Night. Gulf of Mexico.
Drugs. Giselle’s ex was not a wannabe gangster; he had actually gotten himself a job in the drug trade. Fantastic. If Rafael ended up in a flaming ship going down ten miles from shore with a sewn-up ski mask on his head, at least he had the self-righteous knowledge that this cocaine wasn’t coming in for him. He’d changed. He banged his head forward against his knees. “Is Freyja here? On the boat?” Because while there was at least some justice in his presence on the boat, she shouldn’t be here.
“I told you—you don’t worry about her anymore. Just chill. You make a nice donation to a charity for me and my brother, and we’ll be happy to drop you off at dock on the way back, got it? Might not want to claim it on your taxes, though.”
He groaned. Ransom money. He’d been kidnapped for fucking ransom. At least those usually turned out well. “Not without Freyja.”
The bench shook with the force of a blow just next to his hip. “She isn’t your concern anymore, star boy.”
As if to answer his earlier question, Freyja moaned from somewhere to his left, and EJ’s presence disappeared.
Shit. She really didn’t deserve to go down with this boat.
“BABY, ARE YOU OKAY?” EJ’s voice came to Giselle as if through a tunnel, and she felt the warm slide of his hand through her hair, trying to comfort her. The old familiarity of the gesture was equal parts comforting and terrifying—just like EJ’s presence in her life. “I’m so sorry, babe. I told him not to. He didn’t know who you were.”
Her mouth felt like cotton as the last vestiges of a headache groaned across her forehead. She must’ve missed the worst of it while she was out.
“When is she going to wake up? You shouldn’t have hit her!” EJ yelled over her head.
A disgusted huff of air came from somewhere farther away as footsteps sounded like they were coming down metal stairs. “You never told me your girlfriend was a conduit.”
“I didn’t know.”
“What a surprise, EJ. What a goddamn shock.” The mockery in the other man’s tone made Giselle’s skin feel tight with anger. Maybe EJ wasn’t always a great person, but he wasn’t entirely awful, either. Besides, anyone talking to family with that sort of disdain made her skin crawl, and something told her this was EJ’s big brother. “And she shows up with some half-naked spic. I told you she wasn’t waiting for you.”
She flinched at the slur. Where was Coyote? Hopefully they’d left him behind.
“Fuck you, Bri. You don’t know her. She’s a good woman.” His hand stroked through her hair again, gently. “She makes me a better man. And if you hurt her, I swear to fucking gods—”
“Real men don’t need a woman to make them better.”
“Leave us alone!” EJ was shouting now. “She’s nothing like your wife.”
The smack of a hand on flesh made her cringe. EJ growled like he’d start a real fight. Time to intervene.
She groaned and placed a
hand dramatically on her head, like she was just waking up. “EJ?” Her voice was as pathetic as she could make it. “Wh-where am I?”
Immediately the tension in the air ratcheted down as EJ’s arms came around her shoulders, helping her up, and she breathed a relieved sigh as she let her eyes flutter open. He always liked to feel helpful.
Shit, water surrounded them—she couldn’t even see the shore. Why were they on a boat? Er, yacht? What was the difference between a big boat and a yacht?
“Hey, hey, you okay? I’m so sorry. My brother’s a dick. He didn’t know it was you.” EJ turned a nasty expression toward the front of the boat. “But he’s not going to hurt you again.”
She’d lost her connection to Freyja, so until she understood what was going on, buddying up to EJ was—once a-fucking-gain—her best bet. The good news was EJ was fantastic when there was another threat around. As long as his brother was near, EJ would be her ally. As soon as there were no more threats and she had to explain to EJ that they weren’t together anymore...
That was not going to go well.
“Freyja, are you okay?” said a hoarse voice across the boat.
Shit, Coyote was here. On the boat. In the middle of the water.
“Yeah, I’m”—she looked around, trying to find him, and instead found a glowing dude leaning against a curved stairway—“fine.” Under a crown of golden oak leaves, the man’s deep brown hair flowed to his shoulders, and a full beard and mustache were neatly trimmed. A draped, toga-esque sheet exposed half his torso in a way that looked more artful than historically accurate—not that she’d really know. His hazel eyes bored into her like he could see her soul and wasn’t impressed.
Wreath crown. Drapey white fabric. Giant flash of light.
“Is your brother channeling... Zeus? Like, the Zeus?”
The tiniest of smiles curled the man’s lips into a proud sneer.
“What?” Coyote yelled from somewhere to her right. “Where?”
She spun to try to find him—then realized she wasn’t channeling Freyja. They would see each other. For real.
Her heart stuttered in anticipation as she looked around the boat for his face—his real face. But nobody was there.
No... there was a dude in a dark blue Cowboys football hoodie and a ski mask with the eyes sewed shut, like some freaky death metal prop. She hopped up, then dizziness hit and she nearly fell back over. “Coyote?”
EJ’s hands landed on her hips. “He’s fine.”
“Freyja?” the covered man asked, his head pointing her way. “Are you okay? We’re on a boat. I think.”
“I’m a little shook-up but fine. And yeah, we’re on a boat.” She touched EJ’s arm. “Why is he...?” So that he couldn’t see. Which wouldn’t matter if they were planning on throwing him overboard. “You’re letting him go.” She breathed out in relief.
“My little brother seems to think he can pay for transportation,” Zeus said. “But I’ve never known a beaner with that kind of cash on hand.”
Coyote flipped off the general direction of EJ’s brother.
“I will cut it off, fucker.”
EJ hopped up. “Bro, he’s—”
“Hey!” Coyote yelled again.
“—a client. Give him a break.”
“A client?” Zeus’s eyebrows went up.
“A client?” Freyja asked, disbelieving. What was EJ sell... oh. Drugs. They were on a drug boat. When EJ had said he had a job, he had not specified a taxpaying one. And Coyote had just admitted to using cocaine. Had he actually bought some from EJ at some point?
How else would they know each other? Moving up in the world, Gi. Dealers to users... woo?
“What, you think he’s too perfect for that?” EJ asked snidely.
Coyote made a noise that almost sounded like a protest before grunting and sagging.
EJ pulled her back to sit on the cushioned seating next to him. “I don’t know what he told you, but that’s the kind of guy you were working with.”
Coyote sounded acerbic as fuck as he said, “Apparently I’m paying a lot of money for this damn boat ride, so could we cruise on back to shore?”
From the pilot’s station above them, someone called down, “We’re in position, sir.”
“EJ,” Zeus said, “could you escort our guests up?”
Her ex did not immediately comply. “I don’t think we should leave them alone together.”
“You think they should stay on the deck? Go below?” He reached into a locker next to a door going into the interior. Out came a length of rope and another mask. “You insisted they come with us for some damn reason. Now tie them up in the cabin.”
She clutched a little tighter to EJ, trying to play to his protective side. “I’ll go up there nicely. You don’t need to tie me up.”
Her ex wrapped an arm around her and kissed her hair. “It’ll just be for a little bit, I promise. I’m sorry, babe, but this is the way it has to be.”
“EJ—”
He turned her to face him, his hands tight on her biceps. “Trust me, you don’t want to be a part of this. I’m looking out for you.”
Crap. As soon as he decided what was safest for her, there was no changing his mind—just pissing him off.
“Still go nicely up for me, okay?” He pulled her up to standing, and she debated stomping on his foot.
But if she just kept her temper and went up the fucking steps, she’d be in the room, hopefully alone with Coyote, where they could figure something out. She got close to EJ, making her eyes big as she whispered, “I don’t like this.”
He chucked her under the chin. “We do what we gotta do, right? This is how we survive.” One of his catchphrases from the home. At the moment, without her goddess, she wasn’t going to do much against EJ. But that could change if she got alone. Except... where was her godstone? Because she couldn’t feel it in her pocket.
She managed a smile for him anyway and repeated, “We do what we gotta do.” He’d finally gotten out of the home, only to fall in with family who wasn’t any better. It wasn’t entirely his fault, making the best of a bunch of bad options. “I’ll go up. You get him.” EJ glanced over at Coyote like he was debating that whole throwing-her-partner-overboard thing. She put a hand on her ex’s cheek. “You can tie me up once we’re up there. I trust you.”
His pupils dilated slightly, his breath hitching in just a bit. That did the trick. He nodded and leaned over to throw Coyote over his shoulder like a good caveman.
“Hey!” Coyote yelped. What in the world was he thinking at this point? Ignoring the fear that her high-class partner was convinced she was trash, she hustled up the circular stair, EJ close behind her. “We’re going... up?” Coyote asked. “Watch the head! Dude, I can’t see, and I have handcuffs on.”
“He whines a lot,” EJ commented, giving her the friendly smile she remembered too well. The smile she liked.
She couldn’t help giving him one back. In spite of the drama, they’d been through a lot together—more good than bad. It was just that the bad had been pretty awful. Keeping her voice light, she said, “Patience isn’t his virtue,” then went through an open door to find herself in the pilot’s cabin. Couches lined the walls, with a small break for a bar setup, and two captain’s chairs sat in front of a panel of equipment.
A lone man finished powering down the boat and pulled the keys. “Need some help?”
EJ dropped Coyote into one of the rotating seats and passed a piece of rope to the other narco. “Tie him up, then you can head down.”
“I’m already handcuffed”—Coyote started, then yelped as the guy yanked on the rope.
EJ rolled his eyes, but to Giselle’s surprise he told the other guy, “He’s a guest who doesn’t need to go wandering. No need to leave marks.” Then he patted the other chair.
“I promise I’ll stay—”
“Gi...whiz, girl,” he said, quickly covering up his near use of her name in a way that made her chuckle.
&nb
sp; “Fine.” She sat, managing a smile as the other guy finished with Coyote’s bonds and left. “I don’t need bruises either, right?”
“No way!” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she felt shitty for encouraging him—shitty, but she wasn’t sure what else to do. “Sorry about this, babe. You caught us at a bad time. But after this, I’ll make sure you stay out of this mess and stay safe. I promise.”
“Damn fucking—” Coyote started to growl.
She kicked him in the shin. He spun to look at her, even though they couldn’t see each other through his mask, and she imagined him absolutely seething. He just needed to shut the fuck up for a little longer. Internally pleading for him to hold his temper, she smiled at EJ and held out her hands, wrists together.
He shot her an apologetic look and pulled her wrists behind her, securing them to each other around the central column of the captain’s chair. Dammit.
Looking even more regretful, he readied the mask.
“EJ, please—”
“I’ll be back quick as I can. Just relax until then, okay? Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“No, I’m just going to get tied to a chair and blindfolded!” she couldn’t help snarking at him.
As his expression darkened, she immediately regretted it. “You showed up at my house nosing around. You brought this jerk in who turned into a fucking... moose or whatever and tried to kill me—”
“Okay, yeah—”
“You haven’t responded to any of my calls or texts when we could’ve gotten back together under better circumstances—”
“You’re right, EJ.”
“This is your fault. Not mine.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Coyote growled again, and she punched his foot with hers. He kept going anyway. “Fuck no. This is not—”
EJ backhanded him in a quick jab that was more of a warning than an attack. “Stay out of shit that ain’t your business.”
“Do what you need to do,” Giselle told him quietly, just needing EJ out before Coyote and his unrealistic expectations for reality made things even worse. “I’ll see you soon.”