Good Things: An Urban Fantasy Anthology

by Mia Darien

  He still hadn’t told her that he was the man who rescued her in Alaska. As soon as she’d described that night, he’d known. Maybe he’d known on some level anyway, having the strangest sense of already knowing her since meeting her in that coffee shop. But he didn’t want her distracted by the past. He needed her focus on this situation. Hell, he needed his own focus on this situation. He shouldn’t be thinking about that kiss—one that hadn’t ever quite left him in all these years.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll get there. These things take patience.”

  She turned her grey-eyed gaze—which seemed to reach into his soul—in his direction. “Why do you do this?”

  “What? Hang out with a gorgeous woman? I’d think that self-evident.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No. Why do you use your abilities to help others? You’re in just as much danger as I am from these people. So why?”

  He considered her earnest expression. Unable to resist, he reached out and tucked a silky strand of hair behind her ear. Beyond a soft flush on her cheeks, she didn’t react or stop waiting for an answer.

  Making a snap decision, he whipped out his phone and texted Max his plans. Then he bent down and grabbed Quinn’s purse, holding it out to her. “Come on.”

  She regarded him with raised eyebrows. “Where are we going?”

  “I need coffee—good coffee—if I’m going to talk about why I do what I do.”

  Quinn took a sip of her coffee and cocked her head at Cain, who sat across the table from her in the cozy, boho-style shop, a look of pure bliss on his face as he gulped down scalding coffee. Black.

  “I don’t get it,” she said.

  He gave a hum of enjoyment as he lowered his cup. “Don’t get what?”

  “I like coffee as much as the next girl, but, while this is good, I don’t taste much difference from the coffee shop on the corner by my house.”

  “Then you’re not a true coffee lover.” Cain grinned, and the impact struck her in the solar plexus. He didn’t smile often, and now she was kind of grateful for that fact. Over the last ten days, her awareness of Cain had blossomed into full-blown attraction.

  Despite the fact that he was a battle-hardened Special Ops leader, Cain had a chivalrous streak a mile wide. Small thing like holding doors. Bigger things like taking her out for coffee to try to get her mind off the people they weren’t saving.

  Fact was, she liked him—as a person. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.

  Cain leaned back and propped his foot on his knee. “You asked why I do this?”

  She took another sip of her coffee. “Yes.”

  “I went into the navy as soon as I graduated from high school. With my…special abilities, which include ability learning, enhanced marksmanship, and weapons proficiency, I did well. Eventually, I became a S.E.A.L. and spent several years putting my skills to use for my country. I’d like to think I saved lives.”

  That explained the dangerous edge she could sense in him. And the way he moved. The way he entered a room and took in every detail. Despite the humbleness, truth rang in his words, and she could sense what he wasn’t saying. He definitely saved lives.

  “Why’d you quit?”

  “I got a call from my parents. My sister was missing. Like me, she had inherited their telepathic abilities, hers manifesting in a true psychic ability to see the future.”

  Darkness infiltrated his voice now, and Quinn wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what came next.

  “Max was her fiancé. She’d met him through mutual friends like us. Together, we managed to track her down.”

  Quinn closed her eyes. “It was too late, wasn’t it?”

  Cain twisted his cup in his hands, gaze far away, trapped in memories which made his mouth flatten in a grim line. “Yeah.” He took a swig of coffee.

  “Like you, she’d been taken to be used for her skills. When she deliberately started feeding them false futures, losing them millions, they killed her. Two days before we found her.”

  Unable to help herself, Quinn leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. He tensed under her touch, not in a psy-to-psy kind of way, more like he hadn’t been expecting it, but she refused to pull away. “I’m sorry.”

  He stared into her eyes for a long moment, and somehow she knew that he’d taken comfort, even a small amount, from her words and her touch.

  “Yeah,” he muttered.

  “Delilah was involved in our finding Casey, my sister, in the first place. She offered me and Max a job, hooked us up with the Thor look-a-likes, and the rest is history.”

  Quinn’s lips twitched at his description of the twins. That was how she thought of them. But she wasn’t letting him just skip over the important part. “You couldn’t save her, so you save others now.”

  Again, that steady gaze reached inside her. “Is that what your powers tell you?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t need to be a Psy to see that.” She placed a hand on the side of his face, his beard tickling her palm. “You’re a good man, Daniel Cain. You would have saved your sister if you could. Your sister would have seen that. She knew you loved her.”

  If she hadn’t been touching him, she would’ve missed how much her words shook him up. He tensed under her hand, and desolation—bleak and dark—filled those blue eyes. “I know,” he muttered.

  She lowered her hand but jerked when he suddenly grabbed hers before she could sit back. “You remind me of her sometimes,” he murmured, soft and low. “Same feisty streak. Same determination to help others. Same caring heart.”

  Her turn to be shaken now—he seemed to see her. The real her. If she wasn’t careful, she could fall for Daniel Cain. Every doubt associated with that thought made her panic and pull back. Time to do something to cut through the thick intimacy which surrounded them.

  She squeezed his hand. “I like her already.”

  He smiled and let her go. “Same way of not letting anyone get too close.”

  Her eyes widened as she caught the teasing twinkle in his. Did he want to get close?

  Part of her wanted an answer to that, and part of her didn’t. She definitely needed some distance, and they had more important things to deal with right now. “We need to get these guys, Cain. Before they ruin another life.”

  “We will.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Cain sat, his butt numb, in the uncomfortable seat in their interpretation room and listened as Quinn translated with amazing ease while the delegates on the other side of the glass did their thing. Even though he could do the same when he touched her, the skill never ceased to impress him. Yes, her gift gave her an advantage, but still, her job demanded cognitive prowess to both listen and speak almost simultaneously while jumping through additional linguistic hoops such as syntax, humor, and colloquialisms.

  Plus, he could listen to the husky rasp of her voice all day and never tire of the sound. Lately, he’d taken to fantasizing about hearing her voice as they made love. A fantasy not helped by the soft flowery scent of her skin, which filled the small space and surrounded him. The same thing happened at night when they slept. Or she slept, and he lay there wide awake.

  Cain gave himself a mental shake and focused on the Mauritolla delegation. His attention needed to be on Max at this instant, not on the woman in the booth beside him. After the first week of getting nowhere, Cain ordered Max to employ his Illusion Manipulation, disguising himself as one of the Bahamian delegate’s entourage, who sat beside the Mauritollans, in an attempt to get someone closer. That had been two weeks ago.

  With a weary sigh, Quinn flipped off her microphone and pushed back from the desk, her chair rolling silently across the carpeted floor. “Should be it for the day.”

  A quick check told him the U.S. delegate was speaking now, giving him and Quinn a break for a while, as they had no need to translate to English.

  Today she’d worn a black swishy skirt paired with a white camisole hidden under a black suit jacket. She crossed her legs,
and the silky material of the skirt slid back. Even her knees were sexy. And definitely her feet in those bright red heels, though the shoes currently lay in a pile under the desk. Amusement tickled at him. Quinn never kept her shoes on long.

  Get your flipping head in the game, Cain, he harshly commanded himself.

  “Max okay?” she asked.

  He flicked a glance at both their mics, but the lights were off, so no one else could hear them. “Fine.”

  “He hasn’t learned anything new. Has he?”

  Cain kept his expression neutral as he turned back to the delegation hall beyond, where Max sat. “He’s making progress.”

  “Liar.”

  He whipped his head toward her to find her laughing at him.

  “Thought that would get your attention.” She grinned, unrepentant.

  He grumbled his irritation.

  The smile fell from her lips as she sobered. “I know you’re trying to protect me, or save me worry, or some such thing. I’m a big girl.”

  He’d noticed.

  “Have we learned anything?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad we don’t have a true telepath on the team.”

  “Yeah.” Cain often wished for that skill. The twins were telekinetic with different focuses. Usually, the combination of the four of men on the team was more than enough. However, when their primary duty was surveillance, like now, a telepath sure would come in handy.

  “Time for a different tack, don’t you think?”

  Cain frowned at the resolution behind her words. Only three weeks with Quinn and he could read her like a book. He refused to acknowledge the suspected reason for that. Now wasn’t the time. Yet. “What do you mean?”

  “They’re trafficking supernaturals.”

  He crossed his arms, already not liking where she was going with this. “So?”

  “So it’s time to offer up bait.”

  “You?” He tried to keep his gut reaction out of his voice but must’ve failed.

  She cocked her head. “Why not?”

  “I’ve seen what you went through last time you were slaved out.” Even now he had to control the rage which boiled through him at the knowledge. That he had been the one to save her, the man she’d kissed that night, the man who’d assassinated those who’d held her captive—a fact he’d yet to share with Quinn—made little difference. He despised himself for keeping her in harm’s way now. She was too…important…to him in a way he wasn’t ready to label yet. But no chance in hell was he allowing her to get close to those men.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m stronger now. Smarter. I’m not a seventeen-year-old girl anymore.”

  That was for sure. “No.”

  Like a rattlesnake striking, she spun to the desk and flipped on her microphone. She spoke softly in a tongue he’d never come across. She only got out a sentence or two before he managed to turn off the machine.

  “What did you say?”

  She tipped her chin defiantly. “That I know who they are and what they’re doing.”

  He stood, both hands planted on the desktop and tried to reign in a mounting anger, a rock of pure fear weighing heavy in his gut. A glance showed the Mauritollan contingency not looking, but stiff in their seats. A couple of other delegations turned to stare up at the glass wall at the top of the room which hid the interpreters’ booths, probably confused by the odd language suddenly spoken in their headsets. Only Max, in his seat with the Bahamians, appeared relaxed. No doubt they’d heard her. “What have you done, Quinn?”

  “Too late now.” She sat calmly, staring at him boldly despite the anger he was sure reflected in the scowl he turned her way. “You might want to stay at the hotel with the guys tonight.”

  “Like hell.”

  He spoke softly, but she still flinched. So she wasn’t oblivious to how furious he was with her.

  “Once they have me, I’ll call and relay my location as we go.”

  He clenched his hands at his sides. “And how will you do that when they take your cell phone?”

  The woman smirked. “My ability includes cell phones. I don’t need to have one physically on me. I can hook into the cellular and wireless signals flying around.”

  She grimaced, but he already knew because he’d experienced for himself…all those signals made the noises in her head, the ones she blocked out constantly, worse. His cell phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his pocket to discover a text from her.

  I can reach you from anywhere and send you GPS coordinates. I’ll be fine.

  A hiss of breath escaped him as he put his phone back in his pocket. “Why couldn’t you just listen into their calls?”

  “I’ve been doing that. Nothing turned up. It’s been weeks, Cain. We need to move faster.”

  Cain crouched in front of her, not that his suit gave much room to do so easily. He placed his hands on her knees—the heat of her skin through the thin silk of her skirt warming his palms—and the same odd calming effect which happened every time he touched her settled him, if only a tiny bit, and despite the fact that he wasn’t using his power on her. “If anything happens to you because of me—”

  “It won’t be because of you, but because of me. I chose to turn these goons in to Delilah. I chose to help your team out. I am choosing to be the bait. If I can keep what happened to me from happening to any other person out there, I will.”

  He could see the resolve in the soft grey eyes that gazed steadily at him. Jaw tense, he rocked back on his heels and stood. “Do-gooder.”

  “Who me?” She pointed at her chest, all wide-eyed innocence blended with pure mischief. A combination he found irresistible.

  Cain huffed a laugh. Behind the tough, often sarcastic, exterior she presented to the world lay the heart of someone truly decent, as evidenced by the fact that every person who came into contact with her loved her. Quinn’s goodness manifested as small acts of kindness every day. Only this morning she’d snuck out of the apartment to get him the coffee he liked. Of course, he’d come down on her hard. What if she’d been taken? What if he couldn’t find her? Even now, panic spiked, despite what she’d just revealed about her ability to get in touch with him.

  He leaned back against the desk, trying to put distance between them and gain perspective on the situation, and crossed his arms. “If they take you, no heroics. Use your powers to contact me and wait. Agreed?”

  “You’re no fun,” she pouted.

  Why did he want to laugh? “That’s not funny.”

  She winked. “It’s a little funny.”

  “Promise me.”

  She scooted her chair over to her computer and shut it down, then stuffed it in her laptop bag. Standing, she scooped up the bag as well as her purse. “Ready?”

  He remained where he stood and waited.

  She shook her head at him. “Are you this overprotective with all the women you rescue?”

  Just one. The one he’d rescued once already. The kiss that had haunted his dreams for six years. How he hadn’t recognized her when they first met, he’d never know. His only excuse being how dark the cave cell had been, and she’d been whisked away before he got a good look at her. Besides, six years and a happier life could change a person’s appearance.

  “Fine,” she huffed when he didn’t budge. “No heroics. I promise.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Cain laid down another hand and glanced at his phone, which sat, disturbingly silent, on the end of the desk. The hotel room only had the one piece of furniture they could use as a poker table, so they’d dragged the desk to the center of the room. Sawyer and Shaw sat on the end of the bed, using one long side. He and Max had grabbed the chair and stool and took the two short sides.

  They dressed like they were off duty—jeans and t-shirts—which bugged him in a weird way. Quinn was out there, and he wasn’t even dressed to react quickly.

  “She’ll be fine.” Max rubbed at the scar on his wrist hidden under the leather band he always wore. Clear
ly, he didn’t believe that any more than Cain did.

  Cain grunted and waited for the guys to finish out the hand. He ignored the trickle of sweat running down his back. The air-conditioner was a piece of junk even Shaw couldn’t fix without new parts. The heat and humidity of the summer night blew in through the open window, along with the noises of the city. The breeze did little to alleviate the smell of sweat and humanity permeating the room.

  Didn’t take long before Max scooped up the pot. Sawyer shuffled the cards and dealt. Cain checked his. Trash. He waited for the flop. Still trash. Sure he could bluff it out, in fact, he’d usually try that, but instead he folded. And checked his phone again.

  “I’ve never seen you like this, man.” Sawyer’s gaze remained on his cards.

  Tipping his chair back, Cain ran his hand over his beard and didn’t comment.

  “You like her.” Sawyer’s uncanny powers of observation had nothing to do with his telepathy, but Cain often thought it might as well have.

  Cain sat forward, the legs of his chair hitting the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. “She’s got guts. I’ll say that for her.” No way was he going to voice his real opinion. His team needed him to lead, not turn into a sappy, distracted ass.

  Max glanced up from his cards and pinned Cain with a dark, unwavering gaze. “This is different.”

  Max was right. The level of his interest in Quinn scared the hell out of Cain. “Remember our first mission?”

  Shaw laid down the turn card. “In Alaska? That cave system holding all the sups?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sawyer frowned over the cards in his hand. “You think this is them? We took care of them.”

  “All of them,” Max added, a hard light in his eyes.

  “No. This is not them. But she was there.”

  All three of his men jerked their heads up to stare at him.

  “No way,” Sawyer said.

  “Quinn was one of the sups they held prisoner?” Shaw asked.

  Cain nodded an affirmative. Not the youngest being held, but close. Cain glanced down and shock pinged through him at the sight of his own clenched his fists. With a shake, he forced his hands to relax under the table where the others couldn’t see.