“Artifact,” Bear grunted. With a worn cover, dog-eared corners, and a slightly musty smell, the book looked more like one of his sister’s old notebooks from school.
At first, Bear worried he’d stolen the Murdoch Manual—the infamous notes of the lead physicist from the group responsible for “accidentally” tearing down the magical barrier separating the Mortal Realm from the Other Realms. Stealing the coveted manual carried a death sentence. Despite taking on risky jobs, Bear didn’t have a death wish. He was relieved to read a different name scrawled in fancy handwriting on the cover.
Lindh. Only a few people read handwriting these days, but Bear was one of them. Had the client banked on him not reading cursive?
Bear flipped the book open, shuddered and quickly slammed it shut. Ugh. Math.
Bear’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He tucked the book under his arm and pulled out the phone. If this was Eli calling to tell him the client had changed the drop location or time, he was going to get angry. He’d already lost feeling in his toes and fingertips. Even Tasha had abandoned him to find warmer shelter.
Bear glanced at the screen. Unknown caller. He punched the green accept button with his thumb and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Bear! You lying piece of shit,” a woman shrieked.
Bear winced. “Monica?”
A scary silence answered him. Well, crap. That hadn’t been the right thing to say.
“It’s Janice,” she hissed, low and scary.
Oh, right. Janice. Memories of passionate nights rolling around in his bed in a tangle of sheets and limbs brought a smile to his lips. “Janice.”
“Don’t you purr at me, you two-timing asswipe.”
Huh? “What’s wrong?”
“You used me and moved on to some whore named Monica. That’s what’s wrong.”
“Hang on a minute—”
“You just go through women, moving on from one to the next like you’re some sort of cock carousel.”
“Cock carousel.” Bear repeated. That was a new one.
“And everyone’s had a ride, apparently.”
Bear took a deep breath, unsure of where to start. He didn’t really deserve this, but he needed to deescalate the situation, “Janice. I’m sorry that you’re upset.”
Janice screamed.
Bear winced. Okay. That wasn’t the right thing to say, either.
“Don’t even,” Janice said. “That’s not a true apology.”
Bear sighed. She was right, of course. He used the same words with his siblings when he wanted to see them turn red. “You’re right, but I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for. I enjoyed our time together, and thought you did, too. When we first met, I made it very clear anything between us would be temporary. I told you I was looking for something casual. I’m not into serious relationships. If I recall correctly, you were okay with that. You were rebounding from some asshole and wanted companionship without any strings attached. I don’t understand why you’re upset with me or how I wronged you. What changed?”
“I changed.”
“Oh.” Well, he couldn’t really be blamed for that, could he?
The bushes on the opposite side of the empty parking lot rustled.
“Look, Janice. I’d love to talk more, but—”
“Don’t do that. Don’t push me out. We need to talk about this now.”
“Why? What could possibly change now? Why do we need to talk about this at all?” She’d already called him an impressive range of names and clearly communicated her anger and dissatisfaction of how things ended between them. What more could she want?
“I want more.”
“Hell of a way to ask for it.” Bear flinched.
Janice sucked in a breath, probably readying herself to give him a verbal lashing.
Crap. That was definitely not the right thing to say. Dick move. He wasn’t wrong, but...
A man emerged from the bushes on the far side of the parking lot and stepped into the light.
“This isn’t a good time, Janice.”
More shrieking erupted from his phone. He cringed and hung up. He never intentionally hurt women. He was up front and honest. Bear must be missing something in his communications, though, because he found himself in this position more often than not. He had no intention of changing his ways or what he wanted, he just wished women believed him when he said he didn’t want a committed relationship. How could he have anything long term or meaningful?
He sighed, tucked the phone back in his pocket and walked out to meet the client.
Tasha croaked in a nearby tree and her energy pinged against Bear’s. He smiled, glad she had returned. He ignored the dark Other energy within begging to come out and play. Instead, he focused on the person in the otherwise empty parking lot.
Wearing a cheap suit, the skinny man looked more like a down-and-out accountant or public defense lawyer, not a criminal mastermind or a purveyor of stolen goods. He was probably just a lackey acting as a go between.
“Let’s see it,” the man said as he got closer. His thin whiney voice rubbed Bear the wrong way.
Bear shrugged off the grating effect. He couldn’t afford to react to silly things. Not when he needed to look for more dangerous indicators. The guy hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet.
Bear pulled the book from under his arm and held it up for the man to see the cover and read the name scrawled across it.
The man’s shoulders relaxed, and he let out a long breath. He stepped forward to take the book.
Bear backed up and shook his head. “Let’s see the payment.”
“Your fee isn’t cheap.” The man pulled out an envelope from an inside pocket of his ill-fitting jacket, opened the flap and tipped it toward Bear so he could see the contents. Bear counted the amount quickly without seeing the faces—the one benefit of Canadian currency resembling board game money
Bear nodded and the man closed the envelope.
“Cheap, no, but this was a dangerous job.”
The man scowled. “Not as dangerous as my associate. He is most eager to review this book.”
Bear shrugged. He didn’t care.
It was human nature to want to fill the silence. In Bear’s line of work, he never offered more information than necessary. This man was an inexperienced criminal. He hadn’t learned the art of ignoring that “fill-in-the-blank” urge yet.
“Let’s do this,” Bear said.
He held out the journal with one hand. The man reached out and grabbed the notebook, but Bear didn’t release it. He flapped his fingers on his other hand for the envelope. “The money.”
Instead of placing the payment in Bear’s open hand, the client dropped it. The full envelope smacked the concrete.
Motherfucker.
“Oops.” The man didn’t sound sorry.
Bear glanced down at his money.
The man reached into his jacket, his face gleaned with sweat.
Bear froze, his scalp prickling. His heart stopped. Time slowed.
The man pulled a gun from his jacket. Before he aimed and pulled the trigger, a giant-ass bird swooped down from the trees with a shrill croak and sunk its talons into the man’s face.
That’s not Tasha.
The client shrieked and swatted at the raven, trying to bat the black bird away and stop it from tearing at his face.
Huh.
Bear hadn’t called for help. Interesting. He stood for half a second and studied the attack bird before shaking his head. He could dwell on the inconsistencies of his dark fae power later. He needed to get out of here first. With another glance to ensure the client was still occupied with saving his eyeballs, Bear crouched down and picked up the envelope. Double checking it held the correct amount, he pocketed the money and straightened.
The client still stumbled around nearby, flailing his arms. He’d dropped the gun in an attempt to defend himself from the tenacious bird. It lay on the ground a few feet away.
I’ll take that, thank you.
Bear reached down and plucked the weapon from the cold pavement. He had no intention of shooting the client or keeping the gun for his personal collection, but he didn’t want to leave it for the man to shoot him in the back either.
Bear checked the safety before shoving the gun into his waistband and pulling his shirt and jacket over the grip to hide it. He’d dispose of the weapon later.
When Bear approached the client, the raven released the man’s face and croaked a “fuck you” before disappearing into the night.
The client groaned and staggered. He had various scratches and cuts on his face and hands, but nothing requiring medical assistance. He would heal in a few weeks.
Bear didn’t give the man time to recuperate. He kicked him as hard as he could in the knee. The client cried out. His leg buckled and he bent over in pain.
Bear leaned down. “Think twice before you try to cross a thief again.” He drove his fist into the man’s face.
The client crumpled to the ground, knocked out but still breathing. Probably better than he deserved considering he’d come to the drop-off tonight intent on killing Bear.
Bear’s fist throbbed, but the discomfort was worth it. He’d make sure Eli knew this guy tried to double cross him. The guild wouldn’t take another contract from him and if they decided to really take exception, they’d place a price on his head.
Bear glanced at the notebook on the ground. Something about it called to him. He could take it with him. He had every right. But just as something lured him in, something else about the journal set him on edge. If he took it, there would be a ripple effect. He didn’t want to spend his life looking over his shoulder.
He picked up the notebook and dropped it on the client. A low keening sound emitted from the man but he remained face down on the pavement.
The phone in Bear’s pocket vibrated as he turned to leave. He pulled it free and answered as he stepped into the safety of the forest. He followed the hiking trail and made his way to the car. “This isn’t really a good time, Janice.”
Tasha swooped down and landed on his shoulder. Her talons dug into his leather jacket. She head-butted his cheek and he reached up to scratch her neck.
“I’ve been called many things before, but not that.” Eli’s deep voice sounded amused. “How’d the drop off go?”
“He tried to kill me.”
“As expected, then?” Eli’s tone was dry.
And that was what pissed off Bear. He knew the man would try something. He had expected it. Yet, the man’s ordinary appearance, whiney voice and inexperience lulled Bear into enough complacency that he’d caught Bear off-guard. Rookie mistake.
Now Bear wanted to go home, get warm and order takeout. He also had to feed the cat before she pooped in his shoes.
“Yeah,” he said, answering Eli even though his handler hadn’t asked a question. “What’s up?”
“I have another job for you.”
Chapter Three
“Do not underestimate your abilities. That is your boss’s job.”
~ Unknown
Bear stepped into a sparsely decorated office, and instantly wanted to punch someone in the face. He never trusted money, or, more specifically, the people who had a lot of it. He had no problem with the dollar bills on their own and spent the majority of his adult life trying to make as much money as possible. This probably made him a bit of a hypocrite, but having a consistent hate-on for the wealthy made it easier for Bear to steal from the rich.
The penthouse office in downtown Vancouver with floor-to-ceiling windows screamed money. Yet, no name plaques or business decals decorated the door or hallway, or even the front of the building.
An illegal business.
Perfect.
They might be his client today, but tomorrow they might be his target. Thieves owed loyalty only to themselves. And in Bear’s case, his family.
A receptionist who looked more like a plastic mannequin than a human, with a fancy hairdo and painted face, stared out from behind an empty counter with the shiny surface. No business cards. No papers. No printer that he could see.
A pop-up business. Too bad. He’d continue to note the security details for future reference, just in case, but this “business” would most likely be gone tomorrow.
All the usual warning bells went off in his head and like always, he ignored them.
Eli had kept him busy these last few months since the botched book deal, but none of the jobs had been financially lucrative. The payout promised for this job would allow Bear to finally step out of the shady world of criminals and start his own legal business where he’d make his own name, be his own boss, and finally have something he could be proud to show his family. He wanted to prove he wasn’t useless.
He could’ve worked as a private investigator for his stepfather, of course, but he never would’ve raised enough capital to branch out on his own, he’d always be that guy leaching off his parents, and he’d have to take orders from someone else.
He didn’t dislike his stepdad. Quite the opposite. He respected the man for his principles and for stepping in to help raise Bear and his twin sister when other men would’ve run. Bear couldn’t work for Terry because he wanted to prove to his stepfather he could be his own man.
The pristine counter reflected his face when he stepped forward. “I have a three-fifteen appointment.” He didn’t offer a name. He didn’t need one. Real names in this business were just as dangerous as the clients.
The receptionist blinked and nodded once. Her fingers flew across the screen of a tablet on the ledge behind the counter. Beside the tablet rested a coffee in a takeaway cup with the name “Rybekka” typed onto a sticky label underneath the name of the actual order, which was too long and too complicated for Bear to give a shit. Coffee was just coffee.
Bear cringed, half-expecting his twin sister, Raven, to leap out from behind the counter to smack him for the coffee-blasphemy. His shoulders dropped and a mix of relief and sadness passed through him. Bear missed his twin, but it was probably for the best that his loud-mouthed, prone-to-disaster sister wasn’t here.
Beside the receptionist’s takeaway cup was a romance novel. She must be bored out of her mind.
“Right this way.” She pushed away from the desk and stood. The tight pencil skirt made him think of a teetering top hat. That made no sense, of course, the woman was beautiful and didn’t resemble an old-school childhood toy in any way. She took short steps in tall heels to walk around the counter and extended her arm toward the hallway.
Bear nodded, pulled his shoulders back and followed the receptionist. Would she fall over? How did she defy gravity like that? A security camera tracked his movement, picking up the field of view where the other camera outside the elevator left off.
Rybekka sidled up to large double doors. Though she was beautiful, she looked ridiculous taking short little steps on her stilts. A lot of men would drool over her beauty, but not Bear. She looked as though she’d break like fine china. Pretty to look at, but a pain to handle.
Bear wasn’t a rough guy, but he liked capable, hardier women. Women who didn’t cave to this plastic version of beauty.
The receptionist stepped back and plastered on a fake smile with perfect teeth.
If he felt anything for this woman, it was sadness. He’d hate to find either of his sisters dolled up and prancing around like this. Maybe this woman didn’t have a choice. Maybe she did what she did to pay the bills. And maybe, just maybe, she enjoyed her work and took pride in how she looked, and Bear was just a judgemental asshole.
Probably the latter.
Bear sighed. Maybe he should stop dissecting the internal motivations of a receptionist he had no intention of trying to get to know better and focus instead on the bigger issue. The more dangerous issue.
“Thank you,” he said and pulled open the door to the right. A red light blinked above the door—a motion sensor embedded in the door frame. Slick.
Rybekka dipped h
er head and teetered back to the front desk, while Bear slipped into the office and let the large door close behind him. In less than a second, Bear took a snap shot of the room, committed it to memory and analyzed the results.
A large executive desk sat in the middle, sandwiched by two office chairs worth more than his car. Aside from the furniture and fairy filter, the otherwise barren room lacked any unique or worthwhile sensory details. Sterile.
The giant office reminded him of an operating room without any equipment, patients, or hospital staff.
Okay, so maybe not quite like an operating room, but it had the same clinical feel.
Someone had set a fairy filter on one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, preventing the less-than-desirable stink of the neighbourhood from entering, letting in only the sweet smells of summer.
Bear took pride in evaluating his surroundings and how well he blended in. His leather jacket and ripped jeans stood out. The scruff on his face stood out. His very presence stood out like a dark stain on a white shirt. Even if he wore a stolen suit, he’d stand out in this room.
A tall man in a business suit stood facing the floor-to-ceiling windows with his back to the room. Making a statement without words. He couldn’t possibly be this cliché.
“Mr. Crawford. Please take a seat.” The man’s low rumbling voice filled the room.
Bear eyed the office chair with its sleek black leather upholstery without a single crease from wear. Had this client dropped a couple of grand on office chairs just to furnish the fake office for this meeting? Amateur. They could’ve met in a pub, an alley, or a coffee shop. These pretenses were unnecessary. At least for Bear.
Bear didn’t typically meet clients. That was why he had a handler. Eli normally gathered the particulars. This client had demanded to meet with Bear personally instead of allowing the handler to act as a go-between. Along with the office set-up and rent-a-model receptionist, this meant the client was a control freak. He needed to control every aspect of this meeting down to the very furniture they sat on.
“I’ll stand, thank you,” Bear said. Control that.
The man turned around, arrogance and power evident in his stern features. His expensive suit had been custom tailored to fit his large frame, but no amount of clean lines could hide his powerful build. Annoyance streaked across his expression.
The Call of Corvids Page 2