by Janet Leigh
“If you keep frowning like that, doll, you will have to start getting Botox, and let me tell you, it’s not cheap.”
I gave him a wide, fake smile.
“That’s better,” he said, nodding approvingly. “As I always say, fake it ’til you make it.”
I drove down US 80 and headed toward Coffee Creek. The directions Gertie had left me showed the Goat Yoga ranch on the outskirts of the sleepy country community where my brother lived and worked.
After I returned from my ordeal with Bonnie and Clyde, I made Eli open his safe to check for the Tribal key. It rested conveniently in its box locked in his safe. My worries had been resolved. Everything was as it should be, except for Mitch running around wearing a possessed key.
“Have you heard anything about Mitch or the Thunder key?” I asked Ace.
He fiddled with the radio until he found a station that satisfied him.
“I touched base with our fearless leader yesterday, and he told me Old Man Mafuso flipped his lid when Mitch came home with the Thunder key. Agent McCoy’s spy reported Mitch was sent on a special mission, and if he didn’t complete the mission he would be kicked out of the family compound.”
“Did Jake say what the mission entailed?”
“The spy didn’t have the information. Mitch went off the grid and he hasn’t been heard from since. Didn’t even show for his weekly massages. Since he got a below-average massage last time, I thought for sure he’d show up for a redo.” Ace snickered at me.
“You think you’re funny. He was lucky to get a massage from me. I should have tasered him.”
Ace laughed. “It would have saved you freezing your little tootsies off in the cryochamber. Anyhoo, the spy hasn’t reported again, so we haven’t been privy to any more plotting sessions by our archenemy.”
“No word on Mortas Mafuso?”
“Not even a syllable.” Ace clapped his hands together when Meghan Trainor’s new song came on the radio. “I love this girl, she’s got a good set of pipes.” He reached over and cranked up the radio, then began singing. Loudly.
My head was thumping from my overindulgence in sugar and alcohol. Ace’s crooning along with the deep bass of the music didn’t help my current mental state. I turned the radio down, and Ace frowned at me. “Did Caiyan sell Mortas the sword?”
“No idea what the Scot’s been up to the last three weeks. He hasn’t called on me for lateral transportation.”
This was not good news. Caiyan always needed to lateral travel for business. Before, when he had given his key to Mitch, if he wasn’t using a WTF transporter, he was using Satan’s bitch, aka Mitch’s slutty sister.
Ace patted my leg. “Don’t worry, he could be using Tina or Fredericka.”
I exited the freeway into Coffee Creek, and Ace glanced in my side mirror.
“It seems we have picked up a tail.”
“What?” I started to turn around and look behind me.
“Don’t look for heaven’s sake. He’ll know we’ve made him. There’s a black Volvo about two cars back. He’s been following us since we pulled out of your neighborhood.”
“My neighborhood. Shit! That means he’s been stalking me.”
“Whoever it is, he’s not messing with my yoga session. I need to get my chi in line. The time travel has had my bowels all off schedule.”
OK, that was unnecessary information I couldn’t unhear. I found the turn for our destination. A wooden sign was hammered to the fence post that read Goat Yoga Ranch. I drove down an unpaved road and pulled into a gravel lot marked off for yoga guests. A large, red barn sat in front of the lot, and a few people were walking toward the barn with their yoga mats. As I got out of the car, I looked over my shoulder and saw the black Volvo pause at the entrance, then continue on down the road.
Ace squinted into the sunshine. “I couldn’t make out the driver.”
We walked closer to the yoga area. The red-haired girl I had met at the clinic greeted us and handed each of us a mat. “Find a spot anywhere in this area. Go ahead and have a seat on your mat. We will start with a few sun salutations, then we introduce the goats.”
Ace and I spread our mats out next to each other. He did some warm-up stretches, which caused curious gazes from the other participants.
I laid down on my mat and closed my eyes. The sun warmed my face and the smell of freshly baled hay mixed with the scent of cow manure wafted in the air. I took a deep breath and felt my shoulders relax a little. A shadow fell across my face, blocking the warmth from the sun. I heard Ace’s breath catch beside me. Opening my eyes, I shielded the sun with my hand and looked up. Marco was standing over me in sweat pants and a t-shirt.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, moving to a sitting position.
“My doctor ordered me to perform stretching exercises.” He dropped a backpack from his shoulder to the ground.
“So, you decided to come to Goat Yoga?”
One of the girls in charge rapidly dropped to her knees and spread a mat out for him next to mine. She pressed the ends down so the mat lay flat then used a small brush to remove any farm debris that might have blown onto the mat in the short time she had it expanded. He gave her a wide smile and thanked her.
She gave a throaty giggle as she stepped aside, blushing at Marco.
I rolled my eyes at him.
He slowly lowered himself down beside me, grimacing when his butt hit the mat.
“How’s your healing going?”
“The doctor told me it was a good thing I was in such great shape. I’m healing quickly, but it still smarts a bit when I sit down.”
The redheaded girl drew our attention to the front of the class. She introduced herself as Lori, and we began deep breathing exercises and a few gentle poses to loosen up. She had us on all fours in what she called cat pose and the other girl I recognized from the clinic brought out ten miniature goats. The goats climbed up on our backs and did a little tapping with their tiny hooves as Lori explained these were pygmy goats and gave us a brief lesson on why they are good to use in yoga.
I glanced over at Ace, and a black and white goat was standing on his back, nibbling the back of his headband. “Aren’t these tiny little goats just adorbs?” He asked me.
We changed into a downward dog position. My butt was poking skyward and the goat jumped off me and onto the girl in front of me. The goats didn’t bother Marco.
My head was down and my ass was in the air. I noticed the women in the back of the class had shifted their mats behind Marco. I couldn't blame them.
“What’s the cute little goat doing, love?” Ace asked me.
Turning my head, I glanced through my armpit at Ace’s backside. The goat was in child pose, laid out down Ace’s back continuing his sideways chewing on the headband.
“He likes you,” I told Ace.
“Awe, I love this class.” As Ace spoke the words, the goat stood and peed. Ace sprung up from the mat. The goat flew through the air and landed on its feet, Ace’s headband hanging from the tiny mouth.
Lori came to the rescue, calming the distraught Ace and informing him it was lucky if a goat peed on you.
Marco chuckled on the other side of me.
“Oh well, it was just a little wee, most of it ended up on my mat.” Ace dabbed at the dark stain on the thigh of his pants with his workout towel.
A car engine gunned in the distance and a member of the group let out a scream.
I turned. The black Volvo was speeding across the pasture, coming at us full throttle. He was going to mow us over.
“Save the darling goats!” Ace shrieked, and people scattered.
Marco pulled a gun from his backpack and began firing off rounds at the tires.
I knew whoever it was wanted me. I took off away from the goats and the people. The car turned to follow me. Marco shouted at me to stop, but I ran like my hair was on fire across the adjacent field. I looked behind me. The car had rerouted and was gaining on me. A purple blur I guessed w
as Ace ran behind the car. I zigzagged between the massive round hay bales waiting to be gathered for the winter feed.
I didn’t have anywhere to take cover, so I went up. I climbed up on one of the bales of hay. The coarse mixture of alfalfa and grass scratched at my arms as I made my way to the top. I laid chest down, my arms winged out holding onto the hay bale for dear life. The Volvo charged at me and hit the tightly coiled mound of grass head on. The force knocked me off the bale and I landed face to the sky covered with a solid chunk of hay. The remnants covered the Volvo and floated in the air on the way down to the ground. I got to my feet in time to see Mitch fighting the airbags to get out of the Volvo.
“You bitch!” He yelled as he ran at me. I got to my feet, hay sticking out of my hair and to my clothes. He lunged at me, and I sent my knee hard into his groin. He took me down with him as he fell, one hand on his glory and the other around my throat.
“Mitch, you can’t kill me, you’ll die too,” I managed to squeak out as I tried to pry his death grip from my neck. We rolled around in the hay. The wiry grass formed around us like a tenderized chicken breast receiving a coat of flour.
“You ruined my life!” He shouted, straddling me and squeezing harder. I met his gaze with mine, and he released the hold on my neck. “You look like her. I can’t do it.”
As I turned my body to try kicking at him, time warped and my leg kicked out like it was in a slow-motion replay at a football game. Marco was using his special talent to gain ground on us. As time returned to normal, a black and white head appeared in my vision and took a chomp on Mitch’s left ear.
“What the fu—” He rolled off me and into the stampede of twenty baby pygmy goats. They flattened Mitch to the ground. The black and white one peed on his shirt. Mitch raised his hand to swat at the goat and the familiar cock of a shotgun sounded.
“Freeze, asshole.” Lori stood with a shotgun aimed at Mitch.
The other goat girl whistled to the goats. The black and white goat released Mitch’s ear and they followed the sound to its owner.
Mitch laid on the ground staring at the sky. Defeated. Marco came over, gun in hand, and helped me to my feet. I brushed the hay from my yoga outfit.
“Are you ok, sweet pea?” Ace joined us. He picked a long piece of straw from my hair. “You look a bit like the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.”
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, stomping over toward Mitch.
“For shits sake!” Mitch said, standing and starting a tirade. Marco pointed his gun in Mitch’s direction. Mitch began dancing around, flapping his arms and cussing about all the hardships he’d had to endure to please his family. Finally, he sat down hard on the ground and began blubbering.
“I’m sick of this life. I hate what my family makes me do. I hate traveling to these godforsaken places and trying to please my grandfather.”
Marco arched an eyebrow at me.
Mitch began to cry. Not tears of damn I’ve been caught, but full on breakdown mode. We watched as he buried his face in his hands and wailed.
“What’s up with him?” Ace asked me.
“I think it might be the Thunder key,” I said.
Mitch was revealing a little too much to the group of yoga bystanders that had gathered around for the finale.
I turned to Lori. “I’m sorry about all this. He’s a friend that’s had a bad experience is all. He will pay for any damages to your property.”
“We can handle it from here,” Marco added.
Lori lowered her shotgun. “He could really use some goat yoga,” she said as she rounded up the goats and the people and headed back toward the barn.
Marco still had his gun aimed at Mitch, and Ace moved to cut off Mitch’s path to his car in case he decided to flee. The front end of the car was toast, so the fleeing might be in vain.
“Mitch, you know you don’t have to be a brigand. You’ve never killed anyone that I know of.”
“You don’t understand. Four months ago, my grandfather sent me on a reconnaissance mission. He knew Elma ran moonshine to the clubs in Dallas. He ordered me to figure out a way to get rid of her, even if it meant killing her myself.” He leaned against the door of his crushed Volvo.
“That’s nuts,” I said. “You will die if you kill a traveler.”
Mitch shrugged. “My grandfather thinks I’m dispensable.”
“Why does he want to get rid of Elma?” I asked him. “What did she do to Gian-Carlo?”
“Elma is the reason my family lost the King’s key. You see, it was her and Marco’s grandfather that interceded and took it from my family. It’s rightfully ours. Elma also caused McGregor’s line to join the WTF. My grandfather needs Caiyan’s gift to secure the King’s key. His gift and the Tribal key.”
“If you got rid of Elma before she became McGregor’s transporter, you would prevent him from joining the WTF,” Marco said.
Ace nodded behind him. “She was instrumental in recruiting ’im. If Elma didn’t step in, he would be a brigand like his grandfather.”
“And you would take my key. So, you were just going to kill her?” I stepped toward him with my fist in the air ready to throw a punch.
“I couldn’t do it. I tried to act like this was just a job, but I couldn’t hurt her.”
I lowered my fist. “You mean you fell in love with her.”
“I’ve been going back to meet her for the last four moon cycles. Last month she was determined to find Bonnie and Clyde. I went along with it because, let’s face it, meeting the famous outlaws was kinda cool. It was dumb luck Bonnie showed up wearing that key. I figured Elma wanted the key, so I would combine the two and join the Barrow gang. I knew when they were killed so making sure Elma would be in the ambush car in Gibsland would be an easy way to fulfill my grandfather’s wishes. If I could run with the Barrow gang for a year I would gain two keys in the process.”
What he said was true. The travel lab had caught him on radar; last month they sent Caiyan after him. Caiyan had returned to tell us there was nothing to report. Mitch was hanging out at the local speakeasies, pretending to be a gangster.
“Bonnie and Clyde circulated through Dallas on a regular basis, so it was a matter of time before we found them. Bonnie was always writing in that notebook. If I could get the book, I’d know exactly where they go until the Gibsland ambush. When I returned at the end of the April moon cycle, I explained my plan to my grandfather. He told me we had found the Tribal key, and I didn’t need to worry about Elma anymore. Then the exchange for the Tribal key was a bust and my grandfather blew a gasket. He ordered me to go back and get Elma’s key. I told him I couldn’t kill her. That’s when he dumped me in 1933 without a key. He ordered me to get the key from Elma or stay in the past forever.
“What happened when you returned with the Thunder key?” I asked him.
“My grandfather told me I could keep the key if I hurt you, to keep you from traveling. I failed.” He wiped his runny nose with the sleeve of his shirt. “He’ll never give me his respect now, and Elma hates me.”
“Sometimes the mission doesn’t go as planned. I’m sure he’ll give you another chance to maim me.”
“My grandfather has assigned me to work at the docks.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” Ace said.
“I can’t work on the docks with the common people. I drive a Bentley. They’d eat me for lunch.” He looked down at the stain on the front of his shirt. “And I’m covered in goat piss.”
“I heard it’s lucky,” Ace said.
“All I want to do is build race cars. I like working on motors. I’m good with my hands.”
Well, that threw me for a loop. I was sure when Gian-Carlo found out his grandson wanted to be a mechanic instead of travel in search of the King’s key he would put a stop to it.
“Now that McGregor is back on our side I’ll have to work twice as hard to gain his approval.”
“What do you mean Caiyan is on your side?” The muscle
s in my neck tightened.
“Well yeah, my grandfather wants the secret of the sword. McGregor knows where to find it. The secret in exchange for McGregor’s key.”
“When did Caiyan change sides?” Marco asked.
“The negotiations have been going on for months, but since we returned from 1933 McGregor made the deal.”
I cut my eyes at Ace. “Did you know about this?”
“No doll, I swear.” He crossed his heart in a hope to die manner. “I thought he was going to sell the sword to the bugger, not join up with him and his troupe of brigands.”
“My grandfather ordered me to kill Elma. When I didn’t succeed, he ordered me to hurt you. McGregor was right there when he gave the order. I thought the two of you had broken up.”
It was a test to see if Caiyan would try and save me. I cut my eyes at Marco and he lowered his gaze. Caiyan sent Marco to take care of me.
Ace caught the familiar oh shit tension that stirred up the air. He cleared his throat. “I’ll take Dale Earnhardt to the car,” Ace said, gripping Mitch’s arm and escorting him in the direction of the parking lot.
I turned toward Marco. “Did you know?”
“No. McGregor only told me you were in danger.”
“What should I do?”
“I’d like to tell you to forget the asshole and spend time with me, but instead I’ll take Mitch back to headquarters and let them decide what to do with him. You will have to make your own decisions.”
“What if I make the wrong one?”
“It’s like the clothes you wear. Sometimes what’s trendy isn’t comfortable, but you wear it anyway because it’s in style. Once the trend’s over, you can return to your comfortable clothes. You need to decide what’s comfortable.”
“What if when the trend’s over, someone else is wearing my comfortable clothes?”
“That’s a chance you take for choosing style over substance.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “OK, you win the analogy war, but I still have some shopping to do before I decide what style suits me the best.”