Keystone (Crossbreed Series Book 1)

by Dannika Dark

  “I cannot take the chance,” he stressed in slow words. “Christian is not here, and we would have no one to take care of witnesses. You would have a body to deal with—blood and emotional imprints. You are smarter than that. Leave early in the morning, and keep your phone charged. Put it on vibrate so it doesn’t draw attention.”

  She laughed softly. “You must think I’m an amateur. I keep my clothes well hidden when I shift.”

  I scurried down the hall and ascended the stairs. When I reached the top floor, I slammed right into Wyatt.

  “Well, it looks like we meet again. Does something have you… spooked?”

  Once my heart stopped hammering against my chest, I put my hands on my hips, still out of breath. “Feel up to some covert spy stuff?”

  Wyatt put his arm around me, and we strolled toward his game room. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

  Chapter 15

  The car lurched to a stop, and I gripped the driver’s seat in front of me, which happened to be on the right side of the car and not the left. “I thought we were going to be covert?”

  Wyatt shifted to park and turned off the engine. He jerked his thumb at Shepherd. “He’s my partner. If I keep anything from him, he’ll move my bed into a graveyard while I’m sleeping.”

  “I meant the car.”

  Wyatt’s expression twisted comically. “Leave my girl alone. This is a vintage 1971 classic Mini Cooper.”

  “Yeah, nothing conspicuous about that,” I said with a snort.

  Shepherd opened his door, looking like a sardine trying to climb out of a can. “Stay here while I circulate the blood in my legs.”

  We waited in the car for a minute while Shepherd scouted the area. I’d only filled them in on part of the conversation I’d overheard, leaving out all the warnings that Viktor had given Blue. What this organization needed was new blood to shake things up.

  “Are you sure this is the place?” I asked.

  Wyatt checked the map on his phone. “I put a tracker on her cell last night, and the signal is coming from right here, so my bet is that her stuff is up yonder,” he said, pointing at the roof of the pastry shop.

  We didn’t have trouble figuring out where Darius was supposed to show up. Viktor said something about reservations, and the only place in the immediate area besides the movie theater was a restaurant named Angelo’s.

  Wyatt tilted his mirror. “It hasn’t even been a week and you’re already going behind Viktor’s back. You are a bad girl.”

  “Viktor’s too worried about visibility.”

  “He likes to keep a low profile. Don’t hold your breath on us getting uniforms with name tags anytime soon.”

  I pulled off his hat. “Open the door. If I have to sit in this cramped car for another minute, I’m going to scream.”

  Wyatt got out and pushed the seat forward. I stumbled onto the curb, and he snatched his beanie out of my hand and put it back on his head. It was more stylish than practical, with the fabric loosely flopped over in the back as if it were meant for a larger head.

  I raised an eyebrow at his T-shirt that said YOU’RE DEAD TO ME. It was partially tucked in, revealing a belt buckle with a skull.

  “I bet you’re a real hit with the ladies.”

  All he did was pucker his lips and give me an invisible smooch in return.

  There was nothing subtle about the way Wyatt walked. He had the swagger of a fashion model who’d just discovered his calling. I scanned the streets, hurrying toward the pastry shop where Shepherd was holding open the door.

  Once inside, Shepherd stole a seat next to the window and slanted his eyes, signaling for us to buy something.

  “Holy Toledo!” Wyatt exclaimed, flattening his palms on the counter, gazing upon row after row of mouthwatering pastries. “Is it possible for me to just work my way from left to right and you can send me the bill?”

  The girl behind the counter smiled coyly. “You can have whatever you want and as much as you want.”

  He folded his arms on the high counter and rested his chin on his wrist. “Is that so?”

  I nudged him and cleared my throat.

  “Tell you what, buttercup. My friends will have two brownies, and I’ll take the biggest cinnamon bun you make.”

  “Coming right up,” she said, using a singsong voice.

  Wyatt turned, scoping out the empty room.

  I glared at him. “Is it possible for you to not draw attention?”

  “You do things your way, and I’ll do them mine,” he said coolly.

  “Says the man who drives a red car with a blue door.”

  He leaned in. “Says the woman who has one brown eye and one blue. Sometimes things that are different have more personality.”

  Wyatt was too adorable to hate, so I just shook my head and wandered toward a table in the back. Shepherd kept a close eye on the restaurant across the street. The valet parking allowed us to see people coming and going, and although I didn’t have a clue what Darius looked like, Shepherd did.

  Wyatt set a plate in front of Shepherd and then headed toward me. He didn’t wear the lace-up boots most men wore, or even sneakers. Wyatt lived in a pair of old black cowboy boots. I wondered what he looked like in the century he was born—if he’d worn spurs on his boots or had dressed more like a city boy.

  “The way you’re staring at my boots is making me blush,” he teased in an exaggerated Southern accent. “Why, I do believe I just might feel one of my fainting spells coming on.”

  “You do that accent so well it scares me.”

  He winked, his voice back to normal when he said, “I used to be a Southern boy, but when you live in different places, you start losing pieces of yourself.”

  I gaped at the size of his cinnamon bun. “That thing’s bigger than your head.”

  He peeled off a strip around the outer edge. “I hear that a lot. So what’s the big plan if we see Darius?”

  “It depends on how many goons are protecting him. There’s one I wouldn’t mind taking out myself.”

  “Just don’t do it around me,” he said, chewing on a wad of the sticky bun. “The last thing I need is some freshy who wants to haunt me because I hang out with the girl who snuffed out his light.”

  “Your life must be miserable if all that’s true.”

  He straightened his shoulders. “Hey, maybe my Breed isn’t as glamorous as shifting into animals or draining people with your teeth, but we do something else that no one else can, and sometimes it has its rewards. Like identifying the soul of a missing person. It’s not always a happy ending, but at least it’s closure for the family. I don’t engage in that kind of help very often, but they can be persistent.”

  “Where’s Christian? I haven’t seen him.”

  Wyatt mumbled an unintelligible answer, his lips coated with flaky icing. After five tremendous chews and a swallow, he said, “Why do people always ask you a question the second after you take a bite of something?” He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and smiled at the girl behind the counter. “No idea what Christian’s up to. Viktor might have sent him on a job, or maybe he’s taking a break. We don’t keep tabs on anyone except our partners.”

  I tilted my head to the side and gave him a cold stare.

  Wyatt chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Well, that’s for you two to figure out. When Viktor first paired us up, Shepherd wanted to kill me.”

  “By the menacing look on his face, I’d say nothing’s changed.”

  Wyatt wagged his sticky finger at me. “Yeah, but at least he doesn’t try anymore. You develop a bond with your partner that defies all logic. You’ll see. It’s always an adjustment period when someone new comes in. I thought you two would get along since you’re kind of the same.”

  I poked at my brownie. “I don’t trust Vampires.”

  “That’s a therapy session I ain’t got time for,” he said around a mouthful of cinnamon bun.

  “We’re so busted.” I slouched in my chair and shielded my eyes
. “Cover your face. It’s Blue.”

  When Blue entered the shop and glanced at the back of Shepherd’s head, her eyes went glacial. Maybe it was the way the stubble leaned or a freckle on his ear, but she knew exactly who was sitting in that chair.

  “Hey, Blue!” Wyatt boomed. He turned around in his chair and blithely waved his sticky fingers at her. “The cinnamon buns are out of sight.”

  She had a thin hood pulled over her head, but I recognized her remarkably long hair.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed, gripping the ends of the table. “Viktor will—”

  “Start rambling on in Russian and put us on video game restriction. Blah-blah. Did you really think we were going to let you have all the fun? Take a seat; you’re making a scene and drawing attention to us.”

  I gave him a cross look as she pulled up a chair and sat to my right. “How did you know that was Shepherd?”

  Blue tucked her hair behind her ear. “The Celtic tattoo on the back of his neck.”

  I craned my neck and looked across the room. “I never noticed. What did you find out about Darius?”

  Blue pulled out her phone and checked her messages. “He’s across the street. They’ve been in there for about an hour, but the information you got from that Mage was right. He’s definitely staying at that house. Are you going to eat that?” She dragged my plate in front of her when I shrugged indifferently.

  Wyatt chuckled. “Is that your Shifter craving?”

  She shoved half the brownie into her mouth. “No, but it’ll distract me.”

  These were questions I’d always wanted to ask before but didn’t. The last thing you wanted to do in a bar or club was stand out for not knowing anything about the Breed world, especially when you were illegally made. “What’s a Shifter craving?”

  Blue wedged the remaining half into her mouth, giving me a guarded look.

  Wyatt pulled more of his hair out from beneath his hat, playing with the ends. “Since she’s busy eating half the bakery, I’ll tell you. When they shift back from animal form, they each have a craving. It’s different for everyone, and nobody knows why. At least, that’s what they’ve told me. I once knew a guy who craved peas and gravy.”

  I laughed when he shuddered dramatically.

  Wyatt smeared his finger around his plate, gathering up flecks of icing. “Blue won’t tell us what hers is. I don’t know why all the secrecy.”

  “Because not all my business is your business,” she said, glancing back at the window. “Oh, no. He’s coming this way. Raven, does he know what you look like?”

  “I don’t think…” I glanced past her, searching for the Mage I’d fought in the bathroom. “His partner should have my face memorized, but I don’t see him.”

  Blue stripped off her thin jacket and wrapped it around me, drawing the hood over my eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she said in a hushed voice. “We can’t take the chance since your eyes stand out. Keep your head down, and go sit with Shepherd. It looks suspicious to have him sitting there by himself. Hurry!”

  I launched to my feet and scuttled over to the table in front, taking a seat so I was facing the door.

  Shepherd discreetly slid his brownie in front of me and held my hand as if we were dating. I felt myself blush with the weight of his touch. He seemed to be a contradiction in so many ways. I always thought Sensors would be more empathetic and compassionate, but Shepherd was hard and raw. Maybe that was why it caught me off guard to have an affectionate moment with him, even a staged one.

  I glimpsed an entourage crossing the street, and Shepherd lifted my knuckles and kissed them with expert timing as the door opened.

  “Hurry up and finish. We’ll be late for the movie,” he said in a soft voice.

  I’d never heard Shepherd speak so tenderly. If he ever decided to quit Keystone, he could either be a street fighter or an award-winning actor.

  I lifted the fresh brownie with two fingers and hunched over my plate, peering through the opening in my hood at the two men approaching the counter.

  “Pick out whatever you like,” a gentleman said in an Irish accent. His tone was pleasant, not dark and disdainful like Christian’s, but lyrical.

  When I saw a little boy in a Zorro mask pressing his hands against the glass casing, my heart sank. I’d secretly been working out a plan to lock the doors and take out Darius once and for all. The man with the Irish accent didn’t appear to be one of his bodyguards, who were all waiting outside with their suits and sunglasses. But the child threw a monkey wrench into the plan; I couldn’t risk accidentally hurting him in the melee.

  The Irishman tapped his ring against the counter. “We should do this more often.”

  “I’m a busy man, Patrick. But I can always make room for you,” Darius remarked.

  I couldn’t see anything but his legs because of my hood, but I immediately recognized his voice. My fangs descended, and I quickly snapped my mouth closed before anyone saw them.

  Patrick lifted the boy into his arms. “We’ll take the small cupcake. Which color, boy?”

  “I want the green one,” the little guy said, pointing his finger. I guessed him to be about four.

  Shepherd’s green eyes locked on my plate, but his full attention was on the two men standing just five feet behind him.

  What the heck were we doing? Our enemy was standing in the open, and our response was to casually eat brownies and pretend to be invisible?

  I lifted my head to get a better look. I deduced that the lanky man on the right with the faded red hair was Patrick, which made the Italian-looking man with the black curls Darius. I didn’t find anything remarkable about him. He had a small mouth, tall forehead, sideburns, and a clean-shaven jaw. Beneath his dress shirt and slacks, I could tell he was a fit man. Some guys had that look about them. You could put a suit on Shepherd, and he’d still look like a bulldog in clothes.

  When Darius settled his soulless eyes on mine, he didn’t blink. If his bathroom buddy had told him anything about me, he would have mentioned my mismatched eyes.

  When I smiled at him, he made a tight fist.

  Patrick looked between us and strode over. “You two look like old acquaintances. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

  Shepherd twisted his body around to look up at the man.

  When the little boy reached out for Shepherd, Patrick gripped his arm. “That’s impolite. What did I say about doing that? Go stand outside.”

  The black-haired boy quickly looked over the man’s shoulder. “But my cupcake…”

  “When you learn the rules, you get rewards. Stand outside like a good boy and we’ll see.”

  Patrick opened the door and snapped his fingers at a big guy in a black turtleneck. The guard moved in close and kept his attention on the boy.

  Whoever this guy was, he was big-time. Darius’s men looked like amateurs compared to Patrick’s bodyguard.

  “Such a precocious child,” Patrick said.

  “Is he yours?” I asked, having sensed Patrick was a Mage.

  Aside from not being able to reproduce, a Mage had no business with a child. If Patrick was recently turned and this was his human child, the Mageri would have made him sever the relationship. But something in his eyes told me he was very old.

  Patrick cupped an elbow with one hand and pinched his chin, looking at the child. “Sadly, no. I have many people in my employment, one of whom was my Relic. Helen was an exceptionally bright woman, and I was quite fond of her in some ways. A year ago, she was walking to a restaurant when a Mage juiced her energy to the point where it killed her.” Sadness brimmed in his eyes and he shook his head. “Terrible tragedy. The boy was hers. As is the custom, he would have been in my employment after his mother retired, so it just made sense to raise him. It’s not the ideal situation, but what can you do?”

  My heart sank. Tragedies like that occurred far too often—I’d seen them. So many rogues developed an addiction to energy. If they couldn’t find another
Mage to juice from, they’d choose any Breed. Their light was dimmer, so it wasn’t uncommon that it resulted in their death.

  Blue and Wyatt were hunched over in private conversation, making themselves barely noticeable.

  Patrick glanced back at Darius. “You two look as though you want time alone to catch up. I’m going to run across the street and visit with the owner to schedule another reservation. You were right about the linguini. Wait for me outside; that wasn’t enough time for us to get reacquainted, so I’m inviting you to my place for drinks. No arguments.” He turned on his heel and bowed to me. “It was a pleasure, Miss…”

  “Black,” I answered.

  “Patrick Bane, at your service. Perhaps we’ll meet again. Good day to you.”

  He left the shop and walked briskly across the street, leaving Darius staring daggers at me.

  I stood up and approached him, hands in my pockets.

  “At last we meet,” he said, his tone layered with irritation and contempt. “One of my men told me that you roughed him up in the bathroom and had him arrested. You fabricated lies about him and risked exposing our secrets to humans. I could have you arrested for slander.”

  I lifted a toothpick with a cookie sample on the end and took a bite. “Something tells me you won’t. Even if you did, you can’t prove anything. I didn’t make any statements, and your man is less than reliable.”

  “Is there something you want?”

  I shrugged nonchalantly and set the toothpick on the counter. “I just happened to be sitting over there when I recognized your voice. Thought I’d say hello. There’s nothing I want; your friend in the bathroom just caught me on a bad day when I wanted to be left alone.”

  His expression went rigid.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I certainly didn’t expect what happened next.

  Darius leaned in close, his voice a cold whisper. “I’m going to kill you.”

  With a mirthless smile, I lifted another sample from the tray and ate it. “You’re a funny guy, Darius. Chances are you’ll send one of your goons after me. If that’s the case, can I put in a request for your bathroom buddy? I have a score to settle with him.”