by Amelia Jade
“She asked politely,” he rumbled, his deep voice echoing off the walls and filling the bar. He could feel the attention of the other patrons swivel to focus on him, but he no longer cared. It was one thing to be rude to him. It was another entirely to be an outright ass to a lady, especially when she was being nice.
“Of course,” the bartender said with a reedy hiss to his words. “What can I do for you?” he asked with fake sincerity, turning to look at the woman.
Ajax frowned, but his attention was yanked away in astonishment as the woman asked the same question he had.
Chapter Two
Arianna
She gave the big man at the bar a hasty look of thanks and whipped out her notepad, fingers barely snatching her pencil as it went flying at the abrupt movement. After flicking through the pad quickly to a blank page, she looked up, her pencil poised over the paper.
“I just want to know if Benjamin Martin has been here lately.”
The bartender blinked in confusion.
Her pencil scribbled. Doesn’t not know name. Acting? Or goes by face only?
She transferred her pencil to the same hand that held her notepad, pushed her glasses back up onto her face and pulled out another article from a pocket on her faded jacket.
“Um, this man,” she said, putting a photograph down on the bar.
The bartender glanced down at the photo. She studied his face and body language as he did. Her pencil hissed across the page. Recognizes face. No sense of alarm. Was likely a regular then, and nobody else has been in here asking for him.
“Yeah, I know him. Haven’t seen him in over a week.” The pictured slid back across the bar. He was trying to end the conversation.
She worked her jaw, trying to maintain her calm. “Was he in here every day, or several times a week?” she asked, collecting the picture while she did, trying to make it seem like she was willing to work with the bartender and leave if he only answered that one last question.
“Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, like clockwork, for the past nine years,” the bartender said. “Never spoke much, always ordered the same thing.”
The hiss of lead on paper sounded as he continued to talk, much to her surprise. Regular –MWF, 9 yr. Always had the same order. Paid cash, never took change. BT thinks he may have moved, but never spoke about personal life.
“But nobody talks,” the bartender said with a fake smile. “It’s not that kind of establishment.”
Arianna nodded. “Was he always alone? Or did he ever bring anyone else? A female friend?”
The bartender rolled his eyes. “Look, lady. Does this really seem like the place where people bring female friends? Why do you want to know all this anyway?”
She scribbled a note on a piece of paper and tore it off. “If he comes back in, or if anyone else comes asking for him, you call this number and let the person who answers know, okay?”
The man looked at her like she was crazy. With an angry sigh, she pulled a twenty dollar bill from her purse and put it on the bar as well. Faster than she could blink the two things disappeared into his pocket.
“And if you... remember... anything else,” she said slowly, “you let me know. I have more pieces of paper like that one.”
The bartender nodded. She sighed internally, glad he hadn’t pushed her on why she was looking for Benjamin. Things could have gotten a lot more awkward for her. Pushing her glasses back up her nose she stuffed the pencil and notepad back in her bag and turned to go.
She almost walked right into the big, slovenly looking man who had appeared behind her.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll tell you what you need to know.” His words were slurred with alcohol.
Arianna was nearly positive he didn’t know a thing, but she couldn’t be sure. Gritting her teeth, she pulled out her notepad and pencil again, flipping to the last page.
“Okay, what do you know?”
“I know,” the man said, his fat, dirty fingers tapping the notebook in a bouncing motion. She grimaced, nodding him along. “I know what you’re looking for,” he said, his hand reaching out past the notepad, where it awkwardly brushed against her breast.
The pencil flicked around in her other hand and she stabbed it down sharply into the man’s hand.
“Watch what you’re doing!” she snapped angrily, shoving the notepad away as she moved to get around him. Like she suspected, he was drunk and didn’t know a thing. He was just trying to cop a feel. Arianna was unfortunately used to that. She’d been blessed with large breasts ever since sixth grade. It had taken less than a year or two for such things to become commonplace. At the same time, she had learned to defend herself with as much force was necessary. The world was a cruel place, and it often overlooked such “little” incidents. That infuriated her, because it should be absolutely unacceptable for a man to do something like that to her.
But Arianna was smart, and she had learned. She had noticed very quickly that she could hit a man back for doing that, and get away with it. As long as there were others around, she was quite confident that a man wouldn’t respond with violence, and if he did, that others would step in to ensure that his day became substantially worse than hers.
Even now, as the drunk’s hand pawed at her ass while she went by, the big man at the bar was moving. His hand whipped around, and Arianna cried out as she was splashed with beer and a few shards of glass as the bottle smashed into the drunk’s head.
“Ow,” the drunk slurred as he collapsed to the floor.
She peered down at him, a finger holding her glasses in place. “Rude,” she muttered.
“Are you okay?” The big man was looking at her strangely.
Arianna swallowed as his big brown eyes filled with concern for her. Then she stiffened, not wanting to fall prey to another. “Yes, I’m doing just fine now. Thank you,” she said politely, meaning every word of it. Her pencil disappeared into the bag on her shoulder and she stepped over the outstretched arm of the drunk, her hard-soled shoes clicking on the warped yellow and red vinyl tile as she made a beeline for the exit.
The entire place was so dank and dingy, she felt like burning all of her clothes before she got home. No sense in tracking any of the grime into her own place. Even her apartment was kept to higher standards than this place, and that was saying something. The bell sounded above her as she pulled on the door, using only two fingers to touch the metal handle.
Goodness knows the last time it was wiped down with anything sterile.
Daylight blinded her as she reemerged into the outside world, the bright mid-afternoon sun instantly warming her, burning off a layer of drudgery and lethargy she hadn’t even noticed coming over her by going inside.
A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of spending day after day in such a place. No thank you! She walked down the street to her car, fiddling with the key in the lock to open it. She tossed her bag into the passenger seat, where it landed atop a fast food bag and some other clothes. Putting the key into the ignition, she turned it as her foot gently tapped on the gas as it tried to turn over, and failed.
“Dammit,” she muttered, trying again. The engine whined repeatedly, making all sorts of unpleasant whirring noises, but it still didn’t turn over. Reaching down with her left hand she yanked on the little knob that opened the hood. The rusted brown metal popped up in front of her. She slid out of the car and yanked on the latch until it finally released its hold. The bar that held the hood up had long since broken off, so she held it with one hand, looking at the battery.
Corroded connections were there, still in place, as far as she could tell. It probably needed a boost. The mechanic had told her the battery was on its last legs the previous time her car had died. Now she was going to be out more money. Money that she didn’t have.
“Fuck,” she whined, angry and upset at the same time.
“Is everything okay?”
That was the second time that voice had asked her t
hat.
“Yes, it is,” she said, frustrated, not turning around. “Other than my stupid car won’t start. But besides that, I promise, everything is absolutely A-OK, and I’m not in need of rescuing.”
“Does it turn over?” the voice asked, coming closer.
She gritted her teeth. The last thing she wanted was to turn around to look at Mr. Tall Muscular and Handsome. Sure, there was at least one upside to doing so. But Arianna liked to handle her problems on her own. She was a grown woman, living an independent life in the big city.
With a car that didn’t start.
“No,” she replied at last. “I think it’s the battery.”
The voice made an indiscriminate noise, and he stepped up to the side of the car, bending over to stick his head underneath.
She sighed audibly. Why did every guy have to pretend like they were a car guy?
“It might be your battery, but it might not. This wire is split almost all the way through,” he said, pointing down into her car, where the red line coming from her battery was indeed split, and almost completely cut through. “Do you have any electrical tape? That’ll be the quickest solution.”
“I think so,” she said as he grabbed the hood from her grip so that it didn’t slam closed.
Self-consciously she opened the trunk of the little hatchback, ignoring all the junk piled high. Buried slightly under it was a medium-sized red toolbox. She popped it open, shuffling through it until she found the roll of black tape she was looking for.
“Is it safe to do with the line still connected?” she asked as he grabbed the wire carelessly.
“Umm, as long as only the tape touches it, I should be okay,” he said, flashing her a smile. She watched as his deft hands quickly wound the tape around the line, forcing the two ends of the split line back together. “Try it now,” he suggested.
Arianna hopped in the car, and with an anticipatory wince, she turned the key in the ignition. The car started right away, without any sort of grief.
“How did my mechanic miss that?” she asked aloud, angry at the situation.
“Probably wanted to replace your battery. Doing what I did, or even replacing the cable completely, is a twenty- or thirty-minute job and perhaps ten dollars’ worth of parts,” he explained.
“Well, thank you,” she said, slamming the hood shut the instant his hands cleared her car.
He still snatched them back abruptly.
“I need to go,” she said frankly, sliding into her car. Her brain was already whirring with the information she had learned from the bartender, wondering where it might take her next.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“What?” She frowned, her door almost all the way closed as he walked over to it. “Yes, that’s it. You helped, I said thank you, because I appreciate your help. Now we go our separate ways, continue on with our lives. Isn’t that how it works?”
The big man laughed, a deep booming sound that threatened to vibrate her skin. “Perhaps. Normally, that might be the case.”
She frowned, looking up at him. His clean-shaven face was split with a big smile, revealing nice, orderly rows of white teeth, except for a small gap between two of his front ones. It was tiny, to the point where it added to his smile, not detracted from it. She felt an answering smile threatening to bloom in her. Arianna clamped down on that, not wanting to give him the wrong impression.
“I’m not that sort of girl,” she said without preamble, cutting off any line of “favors” he might be looking for.
The smile faded and the man looked at her seriously. “Don’t treat me like that,” he said with a tinge of anger. “You know better. That wasn’t what I was referring to, and you know it.”
Strangely enough, she did know it. Something about him screamed that he didn’t lie, that he was telling her the truth.
“Very well,” she said in a small voice. “What did you have in mind?”
“I would like to talk with you,” he replied, his head turning to eye the person walking down the street, who passed close to them. At his glance, the stranger pulled his jacket tighter and increased his pace, putting distance between him and the giant.
“About what?” she asked, trying to keep any ill emotion from her voice.
“Benjamin Martin.”
Arianna’s eyes snapped up to focus on him with renewed interest. “What do you know about him?” she asked, instantly on guard.
“Easy,” the man reassured her, putting his hands up to calm her. “I’m looking for him as well. I’m a friend.”
Her brows narrowed suspiciously. “That’s easy enough for anyone to say. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
The big man paused for a moment, considering her question. Then he squatted down smoothly, so that his head was at her height.
“My name is Ajax. I was asked by a friend of Benjamin’s to look into him. They became worried when he stopped replying to messages. That was a week and a bit ago now.”
Arianna pursed her lips. “That’s about when he went missing.”
“What do you know about him?” Ajax asked.
She paused, trying to decide what to do. Should she tell him? Everything she was reading from his body language told her he was a friend. There was nothing threatening, and in fact, she was positive he was all but exuding a calming influence.
“Are you a shifter too?” she asked.
After a brief hesitation the big man nodded, obviously seeing no harm in disclosing that particular fact to her.
“So was Benjamin,” he said. “Which is why I want to find him.”
Something flashed in his eyes as he spoke, but it wasn’t hostile, so she let it go.
“Corner of Ninth Avenue and Rickard Street. Tonight. Six.”
He frowned. “What’s that?”
Arianna leaned out and grabbed hold of her door once more. “A meeting place. I have to go to work now.”
She pulled the door closed and sped off. She tried her hardest not to glance in the rearview mirror, but her willpower failed after three seconds or so, and she split her attention between navigating the road in front of her and admiring the form in the mirror behind her.
“What are you doing Ari?” she asked herself aloud. “You work alone. Why are you bringing him into this?”
She bounced a hand off the steering wheel, frustrated. This whole thing was…weird.
Still, she smiled. It had given her another chance to spend time with Mr. Muscles. It couldn’t be all bad.
Chapter Three
Ajax
“Charming,” he said as another car crawled by, bass pounding from the window as clouds of smoke from something most definitely not a cigarette poured from the windows.
What was it with Benjamin and the people he knew choosing such neighborhoods? According to Valen, he hadn’t been up to anything nefarious. Couldn’t they have picked at least a slightly more upscale part of town? He hadn’t expected a five-star hotel either, but he was pretty sure the sound he had heard a few minutes ago had been gunshots.
It wasn’t his safety he was worried about. As a shifter, gunshots were more of a nuisance than anything, unless they were big enough to pierce the strong bone of his skull. Even then a shifter could repair a lot of damage. They were just naturally tough beings to kill. But the woman—whose name he still didn’t know—was human, and much more susceptible to any sort of harm. Ajax felt a protective urge settle over him.
He looked up at the street signs. They read Ninth Avenue running east to west, and Rickard Street crossed it heading north and south. The woman hadn’t specified which corner, so he examined them all. The northwest, diagonal from him, had a convenience store, with some very thick-looking bars on the windows. The figures slinking around out front of it did nothing to reassure him, though it likely ruled that out as their potential meeting spot.
On the same corner as him the building was boarded up, and to his left was what looked like a pawn shop, though it was closed for the eve
ning already, cage drawn across the entryway. Which left straight ahead of him, where big windows were lit with the diffuse white glow of older neon lights. The sign in the window read Mel’s Donuts and Coffee.
Shrugging his shoulders, Ajax crossed the street, eyes searching the sidewalk and the windows above for any signs of trouble. The woman hadn’t seemed like she was leading him into some sort of trap, but he wanted to make sure. Something weird was going on, but he had no idea what just yet.
Nothing presented itself to him, so as casually as possible he opened the door, entering the coffee shop. An older gentleman was meticulously wiping down the counter. Unlike the bar he had been at earlier, he was using a clean, white towel. Ajax nodded respectfully, his eyes roaming the place. The wallpaper was old and faded, the pattern having gone out of style in the eighties at least, but none of it was peeling. The table and chair he sat at were well worn, but otherwise in good repair. The corners were free of accumulated dirt, and the menu on the tabletop looked to be new.
All in all, the old man took care of the place. Ajax couldn’t help but notice that his skin was more brown compared to those who he had seen skulking around the neighborhood. Not that it mattered to him, but younger people were often less accepting of those different than them. He wondered just what it was about this man that allowed him to run a clean and obviously well-loved place in a neighborhood such as this one.
“Evening sir,” the proprietor said at last. “What can I get you?”
He frowned, wondering how long he might be waiting. “Just a water for the moment please,” he said politely. “I’m meeting someone here, but I’m not sure how long we’re going to be.” He opened the menu to peruse it while he waited, in case they did order food.
The gentleman nodded and returned moments later with a tall glass of ice water.
“Thanks,” Ajax said with a nod.
He studied the menu for a few minutes more, until the diner door opened once again.
“Evening Mel!”
“Evening, Miss Jones,” the man said with more joviality than he had greeted Ajax with. He disappeared behind the counter as she all but marched up to his seat.
