Chosen Mate

by Juniper Hart

  What is this meeting about now? he wondered in exasperation. Every fortnight, he’s got a different woe. Last month, he was losing his mind about Lennox. I wonder who’s under the brunt of his wrath this time.

  Keppler steered the Jeep toward the Saltwater Inn, the happy neon sign boasting “NO VACANCY.”

  It was his pet project on the Sunside before he could free himself from the Hollows entirely. He loved the quaint motel facing the Pacific Ocean. It was why he’d set himself up with his own suite there.

  I should have never followed the others into the Hollows in the first place, Keppler thought, not for the first time. I was always meant to live in the Sunside, no matter what the others believe.

  “Hey, Kep,” Dina, his receptionist, called when he entered the office. “You’ve got some messages.”

  He offered her a wary smile. “I’ll deal with them later,” he replied. “I’m only here for a minute.”

  Keppler stepped behind the counter to set himself up at the computer, and Dina moved aside to let him through. She turned her attention back to the news playing on the mounted television set in the lobby, and Keppler was only half-listening as he searched through the month’s receipts.

  Where is that linen order? he grumbled silently. He didn’t want to meet his suppliers without paper proof in hand, but his organizational skills needed work. One of these days, I’m going to hire someone to sort all this crap out.

  He mused that Wilder had everything in pristine order, accounted for and on demand.

  Maybe I’ll poach his assistant, Keppler joked wickedly, imagining the look on his brother’s face if he were to attempt such a feat. As much as Wilder knew how to push everyone’s buttons, Keppler also knew how to mess with Wilder: screw with his sense of structure.

  He glanced over at the television in the corner and caught the end of a news story. “In the aftermath of the robbery. No one has come forward at this time, but the family is greatly traumatized by the episode and implores the public to come forward with any information. A reward is being offered.”

  “People are sick,” Dina mumbled, and Keppler glanced up, his mind still elsewhere.

  “What happened?” he asked politely, even though he really didn’t care.

  “Oh, that robbery in Twin Peaks last month,” Dina said, “where they tortured the family for days and stole everything from the house. They had no leads, but apparently a witness just came forward.”

  Keppler blinked, the story tickling his mind. Before he could recall the details, it was gone again.

  “That is terrible,” he conceded, thinking about how much worse he and his brothers had done over the years. His mind was not on the newscast at all. Watching the media only reminded him of his past misdeeds, and he certainly didn’t need that kind of negativity in his life.

  “Oh, look!” Dina exclaimed excitedly. Keppler sighed, pulling his eyes reluctantly upward as if by force. “They’ve released a sketch of one of the suspects.”

  He glanced at the television, ready to shoot his eyes back down to the work at hand. The picture on the screen made him do a doubletake.

  “Holy shit!” he muttered. Dina eyed him, her eyes huge.

  “Do you know her?” she demanded. Instantly, Keppler regained his stoic expression and moved his eyes back to the computer, shaking his head.

  “Nope,” he answered. “I just remembered something else I have to do.” He really didn’t know the supposed suspect, but the sketch bore an uncanny resemblance to the woman he’d seen in the park that morning.

  I may not know her now, but I will, he vowed. It seemed inconceivable that someone who possessed so much beauty was capable of enacting such horrible crimes.

  Again, Keppler reminded himself that he was a hypocrite. Anyone was capable of anything under the right circumstances. He knew that firsthand.

  But people could change.

  No, he decided reasonably. They can’t be the same person. The jogger is just haunting your subconscious now. You think you see her everywhere.

  He found himself stealing one last look at the news before her picture disappeared, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. No matter how he tried to convince himself otherwise, she certainly appeared to be the same woman.

  What turns someone like her into a monster? he wondered, biting on his lower lip.

  Then again, no one would ever have imagined Keppler to be one, either.

  3

  “Something bad is going to happen,” Damon mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, but for once, Bryn found herself listening to him. After all, she was consumed with the same sense of unrest. Even though their reasons were different, that didn’t make his worries less valid.

  “What do you feel?” she asked gently, scooting her stool closer to him. Chester had gone to case Hollyfield again, leaving the trio alone in Damon’s secure garage, but Bryn didn’t want Alma to hear their conversation. Oddly, Damon was the only one whom she had trusted in the past days, the feeling that Chester and Alma were conspiring against her growing like a fungus inside her gut.

  “I don’t know!” Damon wailed, and Alma glanced up from her tablet as his voice rose. Bryn shot the girl a reassuring look to show she was handling him. She waited until Alma lowered her gaze before turning her attention back to the increasingly agitated Damon.

  “Do you think we should forget about this job?” she asked, silently hoping that he would say no. Unfortunately, Damon seemed uncertain about the question.

  “Since when do you care what I think?” he demanded suspiciously. Inexplicably, Bryn felt a pang of guilt. She realized that she probably had not always come across as the most respectful leader, especially to a soul as sensitive as Damon.

  “I always care what you think,” she told him in a low voice, shooting Alma a look to ensure she wasn’t listening. “I’m sorry I don’t always show it.”

  Damon’s face softened, although he maintained the look of skepticism upon it, and he sat back, folding his arms across his wiry chest.

  “Harrumph,” he muttered, like one of the characters in the comic strips he loved to devour.

  He’s a little bit of a Jughead Jones, Bryn conceded as she watched him decide whether or not to disclose his innermost feelings.

  “Well?” she urged when he didn’t speak. “Do you think we should skip Hollyfield? Tell me what you think.”

  She prayed he would say that they should continue with the plan, but a small part of her wondered if they were in over their heads on this one. She’d had her eye on the family for longer than she cared to admit. What the mortals didn’t know, though, was that her reasoning for the brutal robberies had nothing to do with monetary gain. The theft was only a distraction from the bigger picture of what was happening behind the scenes—what had been brewing for thousands of years.

  There was every reason to believe that things could go sideways with the job, which was why they hadn’t entertained it before.

  A prickling sensation touched the back of Bryn’s neck. Why had they brought the job up now? Alma had claimed the security had changed, making it easier to access, but what if it was a trap?

  Bryn was beginning to feel as paranoid as Damon.

  “I don’t know if we should,” Damon said quietly, eyeing her like he was worried she was going to be disappointed in him.

  “Whose idea was it?” Bryn asked softly, keeping Alma in her peripheral vision. “Who thought we should attack?” Damon was silent, but his brown eyes moved toward Alma, who seemed fixated on the screen before her, concentrating on what she was seeing. “Alma’s idea?” Bryn whispered. “She brought this to you?”

  “She and Chester together,” Damon answered. “I think they’re banging.”

  Now that was surprising information to Bryn, although she could not say why it was shocking. If she thought about it, it made perfect sense. Why else would they think they could take her on and lead her into a trap?

  Perhaps it was the thought that anyone would wil
lingly sleep with Chester that made her shudder. Some women had no self-respect.

  “Don’t tell them I said anything!” Damon mumbled desperately, and Bryn shook her head.

  “Of course not. Thanks for informing me.” She turned away, dragging the rolling chair toward Alma, who bolted at the sudden movement and turned off her tablet. There was guilt oozing from her pores, and Bryn was certain that she was onto something.

  “What’s happening?” Bryn asked casually as she neared the blonde. “Anything?”

  “Nope,” Alma said. “We’re all good to go for tomorrow. Did you find others to help us?”

  “Of course. When have I ever been unprepared?” Bryn purred.

  “Who did you get?” Alma asked, turning her full attention to Bryn. The question did not strike her as innocent, knowing that she was being set up.

  They wouldn’t risk losing the booty associated with this job, Bryn reasoned, wondering how they intended to trap her. We’ll likely go through with it and they’ll take off with all the bounty, leaving me to deal with paying the outsiders and Damon.

  Bryn wished she had chanced going back into the Hollows for reinforcements, but she knew she could handle the backstabbers alone. They were going to rue the day they had decided to mess with her.

  “Bryn?”

  She realized she’d spaced out in her venomous silent diatribe. Bryn forced a smile, which was easier than it should have been. She was envisioning the look on their collective faces when she caught them.

  “You’ll have to wait and see,” she chirped. “But something tells me that this will be a job we won’t soon forget.”

  Alma’s grin lit up her face, filling Bryn with an unsurmountable dread, as if the expression confirmed everything she knew.

  “I agree,” said Alma. “We’ve been sitting on this one long enough. The Hollyfields are worth billions. Their stash and safes are enough for us to retire on.”

  Bryn wondered if Alma had meant to gush her excitement so freely. She only smiled.

  “I had no idea you were looking to retire,” she said sweetly. “Of course, if that’s your choice, this job will certainly allow for that.”

  Alma seemed to realize her gaffe, and she stared at Bryn, her face waning in color. “Oh, I didn’t mean anything by that,” she babbled. “I-I’m just saying…”

  Bryn waited, her cold smile remaining. “Saying what?” she urged.

  “Nothing.” Alma looked at the dark tablet in her hands, a red tinge replacing the white of her cheeks.

  Careful, Bryn warned herself. Don’t let her know you’re onto her.

  “What time is it?” Bryn asked to no one in particular. Both Alma and Damon fought to answer.

  “Quarter after four.” She nodded.

  “I’m going home to shower and change. We’ll regroup here at midnight and finalize the plans.”

  “No!” Alma said quickly.

  Bryn’s eyebrows shot up. That was an intense ‘no.’ What is she hiding? It made Bryn all that much more determined to find out.

  “No?” she echoed. “No what?”

  “Uh…” Alma wavered. “No, you should stay here! It’s not safe to be wandering around before a job. You taught us that, remember?” She was babbling now, and more apprehension filled Bryn.

  “You know why I taught you that?” she asked Alma, who sank back miserably in her chair. “I taught you that because I have more experience in these matters. I’ve done it before, and I know how to weigh risks and not make stupid, careless moves. I’ve been around the pool more times than you can count. There are few who can pull the wool over my eyes. So if I want to leave, I don’t need your goddamned permission, Alma. Got it?”

  Bryn hoped her veiled meaning was not lost on the techy genius, and the look on Alma’s face said it spoke volumes to her. Alma mumbled something that was partially an agreement and partly an apology. Bryn rose, casting one last scathing look at Alma before turning to smile at Damon.

  “Want me to bring you a pizza?” she asked. “On my way back?”

  Damon’s face exploded like a newly lit Christmas tree. “Yes, please!” he choked. “I want a—”

  “A large cheese pizza with extra garlic,” Bryn interrupted gently. “And light on the sauce?”

  Damon’s grin grew wider, and he nodded gratefully. “Exactly! You remembered it perfectly!” he exclaimed. He seemed shocked that she cared enough to do so.

  “Of course,” Bryn smiled. “You’re my favorite.” She winked teasingly at him, and even in the dim light of the garage, she could see his blush.

  Unsure of what else to say, he barked out, “Thanks!”

  “I’ll have a pepperoni pizza,” Alma chirped. “If you’re going.”

  “I’m going,” Bryn replied agreeably. “But you can get your own. I pay you enough. See you at midnight.”

  She didn’t have to turn to feel Alma’s look of disbelief on her back. She didn’t care. She wanted the hacker to feel uncomfortable as she struggled to understand what was going on in Bryn’s mind. It was certainly the first time Bryn had been this blatantly rude to her.

  I’ve dropped enough signs that I’m pissed off, she thought. Let her try to figure out why. The guilt must be killing her.

  Bryn was disappointed but also relieved as she climbed into the cherry-red Miata. Hollyfield had been a dream for years. They were the end of the line on the Sunside. After Hollyfield, there were only targets in the Hollows to deal with. She had started with the easy ones, building up her courage. If the mortal traitors went down so easily, maybe there was hope for the ones in the Hollows.

  That both pleased and scared her. So far, the jobs she’d done in the Hollows were small, nothing worthy of notice or retaliation. Once she was done with her revenge on the Sunside, however, Bryn had no more excuses. She had to finish what she had started and fulfill her promise.

  Now, however, Hollyfield would have to wait again. Bryn couldn’t go in with a team she didn’t trust. A little voice in her head mocked her, demanding to know if she wasn’t purposely prolonging Hollyfield again.

  The timing is uncanny, the voice chirped, but Bryn silenced it. She didn’t need more drama, least of all in her own head. She was grateful for the time away from the garage, the suffocating feeling of Damon’s anxiety and the dimness overwhelming her. She needed a clearer head to execute a plan.

  As she made her way back toward her small house on California Street in Lower Pacific Heights, her mind was already working overtime.

  First things first, she thought, activating her Bluetooth and making a call.

  “Hello?” a gruff, cautious voice answered.

  “It’s Bryn,” she announced. “It’s a no-go tonight, Chase. Stay tuned, and I’ll keep you updated when it’s happening.”

  “Bryn, holy shit! I thought you’d been arrested by now!” Chase groaned, relief coloring his voice. “Where are you?”

  “Arrested?” she laughed. “For what?”

  There was a sharp intake of air. “Haven’t you been watching the news? Your picture is circulating everywhere!”

  “My what?” Bryn screeched, all mirth gone. “What picture? What are you talking about?”

  “There’s a sketch of you from the Twin Peaks robbery!” Chase told her. “The police just released it today. I can’t believe you haven’t seen it; it’s literally everywhere, Bryn! I can’t walk a block without seeing your face.” He let out a sigh. “You should really lay low for a while.”

  Bryn’s heart leaped into her throat, and she wondered if Alma and Chester had anything to do with that.

  “Thanks for the heads up,” she breathed, catching her panic before it took control of her. “I gotta go.” She disconnected the call immediately, her hands so tight against the steering wheel that her knuckles turned white.

  No wonder Alma didn’t want me to leave the garage, she thought. That was probably what she was watching on her tablet. Gods forbid she warn me about that. No, she was hoping I wouldn’t see it u
ntil they took off with the loot. Those bastards! After all the money I’ve made for them. If not for me, they’d still be stealing pennies, barely scraping by. I got them out of the crappy game and into the big time, and this is how they thank me!

  There was really only one way left to handle things.

  Bryn inhaled sharply and dialed out again. Chester answered on the first ring.

  “What’s up?” he asked, and Bryn chewed on the insides of her cheeks to keep from screaming aloud at his flippant tone.

  Oh, not much, you asshole, she imagined herself saying. You’re just throwing me to the wolves because you can’t keep your greedy dick in your pants.

  “Hey! How’s it going over there?” she asked sweetly.

  “Boring,” he grunted. “I told you, Bryn, I know this place inside and out! I’ve got the routine down to a science. We’re ready to hit it tonight.”

  Bryn gritted her teeth together, forming the words in her head so that she wouldn’t choke on them as she spoke them. It went against every fiber of her being, but it had to be done.

  “Yeah?” she replied, adding a lilting tone to her words. “Well, if you’re that bored, I’ve got something else you can hit… if you keep it between us.”

  Silence filled her ears, and Bryn had to check the display to ensure the call hadn’t been dropped as she steered her car into the driveway of her bungalow, a flush of humiliation burning her cheeks.

  “Are… are you asking what I think you are?” Chester muttered. Bryn chuckled at the disbelief in his ears.

  “Can you come over to my place?” she purred. “I’m here.” She didn’t wait for an answer, turning off the car and sitting inside the vehicle for a minute to steel her taut nerves. It made her skin crawl to speak to Chester in such a way, but the man needed to be handled by any means necessary.

  And he will be, Bryn thought with determination, exiting the car and slamming the door.

  4