by Janet Leigh
After a few tries to push open the lid, I gave up. I couldn’t get the top open with my hands bound together. The dumpster was at least seven feet tall and the lid was heavy. Each time I tried to stand on the mound of garbage to push against the lid, I slipped down into the ick. I sat down on one of the firmer bags and banged on the sides of the dumpster, but after twenty minutes no one had come to my rescue. Why didn’t people visit the museum more often? The only thing left to do was call someone. I had my personal cell phone in the secret compartment in my jacket. Slipping it out carefully to avoid dropping it in the goo, I stared at it for a good five minutes. I should call Caiyan. He was my boyfriend, my defender. I didn’t want him to see me like this, and he would give me a lecture. Besides, he was in Spain negotiating an art deal for his antiquities business.
My fellow transporter, Ace, was in England visiting his family. That left Jake or Marco. Jake would also give me a lecture, and he didn’t have the means to get here quickly without asking a transporter. I scrolled down and hit Marco.
“Hey,” he answered on the first ring.
“You answered quickly,” I stalled.
“You are following Mitchell today, right?”
“Yes.”
“I kept my phone close. Agent McCoy has us on Jen alert, and I thought you might need me.”
“I am perfectly capable of following a brigand.”
“Jen.”
“What?”
“Where are you?”
I sighed. “I’m locked in a commercial dumpster outside of the Texas Ranger Museum in Waco, Texas.”
After a brief silence, he asked, “Where can I land?”
“There’s a wooded area surrounding a cemetery, about a hundred yards from me. I’ll drop a pin on my location.”
“Be there in a sec.” He disconnected.
Marco had recently volunteered his services to the WTF after a long time of avoiding both sides of the travelers. Prior to his volunteering, he made it clear he wanted to race his cars and not risk his life chasing brigands. But he had his reasons for joining the WTF. I was sure one of them included me. He claimed he had feelings for me, but I wasn’t sure we were all that compatible. Marco was fast cars, fast women, and a heart of gold. He had a way of letting the women he dated down so they became protective of him like he’d gained a sister. I valued our friendship. I didn’t know if I wanted to become a sister.
* * *
About five minutes later the dumpster lid was thrown back, and Marco peered at me from the top of the can.
“I can’t get the ropes off,” I said, raising my bound hands up and squinting into the bright light.
He hauled himself over the top, and his forearms bulged as he lowered slowly into the muck. His white t-shirt with the Rolling Stones lips logo rose up, revealing a set of well-toned abdominal muscles. I bit my lip to keep the drool from leaking out and blamed it on the stun gun.
His army grade combat boots landed with a squish as he let go of the dumpster and stepped into the ick.
“Sorry about your boots,” I said.
“No worries. I wore the appropriate gear for dumpster diving.” He lifted me to my feet and checked the rope binding my hands and legs. His blue eyes clouded with desire. “Normally, I’d be excited to find you like this, but you reek of dumpster juice.”
“Funny. Can you get these off?” I held up my hands.
Keeping me at arm’s length to avoid the ick on my clothes, he pulled a Swiss Army knife from his jeans pocket and cut the ropes restricting my hands and feet. I rubbed my wrists. “Thanks.”
“Let’s get out of here.” He gave me a boost, and I climbed out. He came out after me, not requiring a boost of any kind.
His acid-washed jeans with just the right amount of ripped denim clung tightly to his thigh muscles as he jumped down from the dumpster. He checked out my wrists, and I told him I was fine and described the way Mitchell stun gunned me.
He shook his blond curls, and his blue eyes twinkled mischievously at me.
I wanted to run my hand through his hair, but I held my hormones back. Marco may be one of my defenders, but my heart was still Caiyan’s. My inner voice held up a sign that read chickenshit.
“I’d buy you a drink, but you smell.” Marco wrinkled his nose in my direction.
“One of the bags burst and brown goo leaked all over me.” I looked down at my naked foot and a small tear slid from the corner of my eye.
“Damn,” he said and pulled me in tight.
I couldn’t help the tears flowing. I loved my new sandals. My jacket was ruined as well, not to mention my favorite baseball hat and my self-esteem.
“Do you want me to go back in and get it?”
“No,” I sniffed. “They’re suede and ruined.” I cried harder. Not only did I lose my clothes, but I also lost my mark. I was always a step behind. My ability to keep up with the defenders and prove to Jake I could carry my own weight was lost along with my designer sandal.
Marco ran a hand gently down my cheek. “If it’s any consolation, you look hot as a brunette.”
The heat of the sun was amplified by the connection between us. I broke the bond, and he huffed.
“It’s just that—”
“I know,” he said, taking a step back. “Why didn’t you call McGregor? Or is he too busy making illegal deals?”
“He’s in Spain and…I didn’t want him to see me like this.”
Marco took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure if it was from frustration or he needed some fresh air.
“I saw your car in the lot.”
“I was following Mitchell, and he was driving.”
“Why did Mitchell drive instead of traveling by vessel?”
“I don’t know. He bribed the sales clerk to loan him a few relics the museum had on hold for a gangster exhibit next week.”
Marco scratched his chin. “Maybe Gian-Carlo isn’t letting him travel.”
“Maybe.” We both stood contemplating the insane mind of Gian-Carlo. “I’m going home. I need a shower.”
“You OK to drive home?”
I nodded.
He walked me to my car. My yoga mat was in my backseat. I unrolled it and spread it across the front seat, then sat down.
“Thanks for helping me.”
Marco leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Later,” he said as if helping me was all in a day’s work. A smidge of guilt hung in my throat as I watched him walk toward the woods and disappear into the trees.
I peeled away on the asphalt as I sped home. Just you wait Mitchell Mafuso. We’ll see who has the last word.
Chapter 3
I pointed my car in the direction of Sunnyside, the small suburb of Dallas I grew up in. Entering the freeway, I put my phone on speaker and dialed Eli. He wasn't pleased I needed a sick day from work, but we had an understanding. I would work for peanuts when I wasn’t chasing brigands, and he would be flexible. It allowed me a job to use as a cover, and I provided him with an extra employee he could assign the less desirable duties. Last week I removed gum from under the reception room chairs. I said good-bye to Eli and tapped my steering wheel. I should call Jake.
Jake and I had been elementary school buddies and high school sweethearts. College defined our relationship as not meant to be. When I found out he was my boss at the World Travel Federation, our relationship took a nosedive into deep water and we have been floating to the surface ever since. I loved Jake like a brother, and I think he has come to terms with my gift of time travel.
He was going to be mad I let Mitchell get the best of me. I was mad I let him get the best of me, so we were on the same page.
I activated the voice command on my cell phone and asked the Hugh Jackman voice to dial Jake.
“Agent McCoy,” Jake answered.
“Just reporting in,”
“Jen, why are you calling me on your cell phone?”
“Well it’s a long story. The short version is Mitchell smashed my phone.”
“Are you OK?” his voice went all raspy with concern.
“Yes, I’m fine. A little smelly.”
“What do you mean by smelly?”
“I’ll explain later. I wanted to let you know Mitchell was at the Texas Ranger Museum gathering souvenirs from Bonnie and Clyde.”
“Bonnie and Clyde?”
“Yes, he bribed a museum worker to loan him a journal that belonged to Bonnie Parker and a pair of Clyde’s reading glasses.”
“Strange he offered to pay for those things instead of breaking into the museum and stealing them.”
“The entire thing is strange. Mitchell traveling by commercial airline and driving to Waco is odd.”
“Here’s a tidbit of information that might explain why Mitchell is using normal transportation. Mortas was released from prison two weeks ago.”
“Why are we just now finding out about this?”
“Hey, it’s the government, what can I say?”
Mortas’s release from prison was not good news. Mitchell’s older brother was a good-looking, arrogant asshole.
“That means Mitchell had to give him back his key, and if Gian-Carlo is wearing Caiyan’s key, Mitchell is left with a naked neck.”
“Yep, we tracked Mitchell last month wearing Mortas’s key to 1933. I’ll have to check my dates, but I believe that’s when Bonnie and Clyde were shooting up the Metroplex.”
“Didn’t Caiyan follow him last month?” I paused. Caiyan didn’t need me in the travel. He’d returned saying Mitch had holed up in a speakeasy, drinking and pretending to be a gangster.
“He did. Maybe Mitch was looking for the famous gangsters. I’ll check it out. That’s not all. Gian-Carlo has another grandchild that just got his power.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep, we have a spy at their mansion in the Hamptons. The spy saw it firsthand and the intel is correct.”
“Spy? It’s not Mahlia is it?” I had more than one run in with Gian-Carlo’s granddaughter and evil bitch transporter. She had been Caiyan’s lover before me and tried to snag my brother. She liked to play both sides of the fence.
“No, it’s not Mahlia. Gian-Carlo might be dangling Caiyan’s key to see which grandson will get him what he wants. Let me do some recon. After the moon cycle opens tomorrow night, we will be able to track his jump, and we will know for certain where he is going. Report to headquarters at 2100 hours.”
“Jake, normal time.”
He sighed. “Jen, you’ve got to learn military time if you want to be a traveler.”
“I am a traveler, and I know how to do the math, but it would be easier if you would just tell me.”
“I need you to report to headquarters at 9 p.m.”
“Got it, boss.”
“Jen.”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. I don’t trust Mitchell. Gian-Carlo only has one key to give, and it seems like Mitchell is trying to be first in line.”
Last month Gian-Carlo flaunted the key Caiyan had traded Mitchell for my safety. The Mafia overlord had confiscated Caiyan’s key from his own grandson. How rude. It would be just like the old bastard to have a pissing contest between his grandsons to see who gets to wear Caiyan’s key.
“Jen?” Jake was speaking to me.
“I’m here,”
“Are you sure you’re OK?”
“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” I disconnected and rolled down the window to let the smell of dissatisfaction and garbage escape to the great outdoors.
* * *
I pulled into my spot under the carport of the townhouse I shared with my cousin Gertrude. When my parents moved to an adult community to party with people their own age, my mom offered Gertie and her evil cat a place to live. Gartie worked in the library at Southern Methodist University and was trying to finish her master’s degree. Her red BMW was parked in the space next to mine. When her mother, my cousin Trish, married Vinnie the Fish, Gertie’s life changed forever. Gertie moved from her East Texas farm to New York City. She was given expensive clothes, a fancy car, and then sent off to boarding school. She’d been holding a grudge against her stepdad that would make Hades proud.
As I entered through the sliding glass door, I noticed that Gertie was standing in the kitchen staring at the fridge.
“Hey,” I said, sliding the door closed.
She did a double take. “What in tarnation happened to you?”
“I sort of fell into a dumpster.”
She wrinkled her small, snub nose at me. “You smell like Cousin Hildy’s turnip greens mixed with the scent of toddler poo.”
The smell matched my mood. “I was following Mitchell Mafuso and he tased me.”
“What’s with the Mafusos and those tasers?” Gertie placed her hands on her hips. “Why can’t they fight fair? I’d love to kick the shit out of that little brat.”
“He’s not so little anymore. He’s grown up since you’ve seen him and sprouted man muscles.”
“He’ll always be the little jackass that almost got me killed.”
I nodded as I walked past her on my way to the laundry room. She held her nose and grimaced. Gertie had jumped into my outhouse on one of my trips back in time. Pancho Villa captured her, then the Mafusos held her hostage. She learned my secret and became my best friend.
I stripped down to my bra and underwear and put my clothes in the washer. The jeans were probably ruined, but I was hoping to salvage the jacket. Leaving the laundry room, I almost bumped into Gertie. She was still standing in front of the fridge.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s all these save-the-dates, it’s downright depressing.” She waved her hand at the refrigerator door and frowned.
I stood beside her. Little magnets held a dozen or more postcards for invitations and announcements for weddings, bridal showers, and bachelorette parties. My sister, Melody’s, wedding was in September. Centered on the fridge was her engagement picture with her geeky fiancé.
“When did we get all of these?” I asked.
“We get one almost every day.”
“How do all of these couples know when it’s the right time to get married?”
“I’m not ready to get married, but being engaged sounds nice. Look at this one.” She plucked a picture off the door and a smiling couple stared back at us. I recognized the girl from high school. She was in the elite group of beotches who tried to barter her friendship for a date with Eli. No way was I setting him up with her. She reminded me of the toucan from the Froot Loops cereal box. I guess she found a date after all. Toucan and her beau were wrapped in each other's arms, her left hand angled on his shoulder to show the sparkling diamond ring. They were both making eyes at the camera.
“Do you think you and Brodie might get married one day?” Gertie was dating my WTF coworker Brodie. It hadn’t been love at first sight on Brodie’s part, but after a little blackmail, he agreed to go on a date with Gertie. They’ve been rattling the headboard ever since.
“If I even mention the word marriage he breaks out in hives. Maybe you and Caiyan will have a save-the-date soon.”
I tried to picture Caiyan posing for an engagement picture. “I’m not sure Caiyan is ready to make the commitment.”
Gertie huffed, “Caiyan. What about you?”
“I could commit.”
“It’s hard to commit when there’s three people in the relationship.”
“Marco and I are friends,” I said, but the words came out as a whisper.
“Ace will be so disappointed in you. He’s had a crush on Marco for years, and since Marco won’t fulfill his wishes, he lives vicariously through you.”
I shook my head and placed the card back on the refrigerator door.
“Besides, I wouldn’t mind knowing what it’s like under the sheets with him.”
Jeez. Gertie’s stepdad, Vinnie the Fish, was Marco’s uncle. “Don’t you think that’s a bit incestuous since y’all are cousins by marriage?”
“Yes, and it would feel awkward to hook up with him, that’s why I need you to do it. For all the women in the free world, I beg you.”
“I think I’ll go wash the ick off now.” Both words and smell.
“I’m just saying you should think about it. Marco’s been photographed with a certain model more than once, and Caiyan’s been more attentive lately—you might miss the opportunity.”
“Not gonna happen.” I waved a hand at her as I headed upstairs to my room.
* * *
After I washed away the ick and the guilt with a long, hot shower, my mind kept going back to the incident with Mitchell. I wanted to wipe that smirk from his scruffy face. I rolled my hair up in a towel and pulled on a fresh pair of BKE skinny jeans and a Jessica Simpson top. Searching my closet for a pair of sandals, I made a mental note to ask Jake if I could expense the ruined pair.
The rumble in my stomach reminded me my last entree was the latte from Starbucks. Heading downstairs, I found Gertie making a cup of hot tea.
“What’s for dinner?” I asked.
“You're lookin’ at it.”
“Tea?”
“Yup, it was your turn to go to the grocery store.”
I opened the fridge and sighed. Empty.
“How about pizza?”
Gertie’s eyes lit up and then she paused. “What kind of pizza?”
“I was thinking New York style.”
She cocked her head. Her red hair was pulled into a side ponytail, which emphasized the freckles sprinkled on her porcelain face.