Magic of Three

by Jenna Castille

  “I owe you one, man. Tell you what,” Rob offered as he swiped spilled tequila off the bar with a dry white towel. “I’ll buy you a drink for after closing, whatever you want. It’ll be waiting for you. Least I can do after you saved me the hassle of dealing with that asshole.”

  “You don’t have to,” Tim answered, turning back to a group of rowdy, hungry women watching him. He lifted his water bottle to them, setting off a peal of giggles and whispers. He took a last swig before handing the empty plastic bottle to Rob to throw away. “But I’m not going to say no to a free drink.”

  “What’d you like?”

  Tim turned back to the throng of waiting women, letting their energy fill him once more, drawing back what he’d used to end the confrontation and more, feeling his personal buzz shoot him high once more. “Surprise me. I’ve found I like surprises.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Ms. Harrington. Ms. Harrington!”

  Lisa shook herself, pulling her mind away from Julian’s mind-blowing, panty-drenching kiss and back to the brain-numbing paperwork she was trying to finish before closing brought in a whole other set of numbers for her to crunch. She blinked several times before she could even focus on the bare wood-paneled walls, broken only by the occasional filing cabinet and a single sofa. Maybe she should get a houseplant or fish or something to liven the place up if she was going to be spending so much time here. She rubbed the bridge of her nose as she looked down at the pile of papers and receipts spread on her one office extravagance, her oversized oak desk with ornate tropical carvings.

  As the door opened the clink of dishes and the constant murmur of the kitchen and waitstaff filled the room along with the scent of exotic spices, making her wish even more fervently that she could be out there instead of stuck in a windowless back room.

  “Yeah? What’s up, Mike?” Lisa asked her manager.

  The tall lanky college kid ran his fingers through his tousled red hair. Young but an able employee, Mike didn’t normally look so flustered. “The new girl we hired to replace Trina seems to be working out. But now Renee’s sick.”

  Lisa rolled her neck and stretched her arms over her head, trying to loosen her stiff shoulder muscles and stiffer brain cells. She sighed as she looked at tropical picture sitting on her desk. Her dream vacation seemed farther than ever tonight. “Renee seemed fine earlier.”

  “Well, now she’s in the employee bathroom praying to the porcelain god,” he replied, lips pursed, looking a little green at the thought. “We need an extra hand up front.”

  Lisa winced. Poor Renee, but thank goodness she made it to the bathroom. There were some things a restaurant didn’t need to see in its waiting area, vomit being high on the list. “Sarah’s been wanting a chance at hostess. Give her a call and see if she can come in. In the meantime I’ll cover the spot. As soon as Renee feels up to it call her a cab. I’ll foot the bill. If she’s feeling this bad she shouldn’t be driving.”

  Mike sighed in relief, giving her a weak, appreciative smile. “Thanks, boss lady.”

  Lisa narrowed her eyes and shook a playful finger at him. “Keep calling me that,” she threatened, eyes narrowed and a mock sneer curling her lips, “and you can handle all those impatient customers on your own. I’ll leave early. How’d you like that?”

  Mike shook his head, standing straighter as the weight of the world lifted off his slim young shoulders. “You wouldn’t do that to me. Not when you’re already taking tomorrow night off. You’d go crazy. You practically live here.”

  “Watch me,” she growled, not pleased with the truth of his statement. CM meant a lot to her but not everything. She did too have a life outside work.

  Didn’t she?

  Mike laughed, looking relaxed as he left, the door swinging closed behind him. Lisa took a moment to run a comb through her static-charged hair and slip her black patent-leather shoes back on. It took her a minute to find the jacket that went with her outfit—sliding off her filing cabinet—and shake the wrinkles out of it. She made herself as comfortable as possible when playing with the numbers, not paying much attention to details like personal neatness.

  Anything to make the job easier. Food she could handle. Employees flaking out or getting sick she could handle. Irate or deadbeat customers she could handle. But math? Yuck. She worked hard, meticulously, to make up for her numeric disability. But she’d never love it.

  As she headed out the door Lisa nodded at a pale and sweaty Renee who stood sagging against the wall near the employee restroom. Poor girl really didn’t look good. Lisa put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Renee, a cab’s waiting whenever you’re ready. Don’t worry about a thing. Call us when you feel better.”

  Renee nodded but dashed back to the bathroom, hand cupped over her mouth. Lisa made a mental note to have someone check up on her, maybe escort her home.

  The next two hours passed in a blur, a flashback to her startup days working with a skeleton crew, a choice group that still formed the heart of CM. For the most part she enjoyed herself, enjoyed the camaraderie, enjoyed being back in the trenches. It’d been a while since she’d had such hands-on time with her customers. Normally she only saw the ones who were dissatisfied. Seeing pleasure on their faces was a nice change of pace. Made her feel like she had accomplished something. Made her remember the dreams she’d come into this business with.

  But one dark spot hovered over her otherwise busy evening. The businessman. She couldn’t be certain but he looked like the same guy from the café that morning. With his white-collar professional clone look it was hard to tell. Perfect haircut. Well-tailored, gray pin-striped suit. Solid blue tie. Well-mannered. Nothing with personality showed in his demeanor.

  But he gave her the creeps. Just looking at the man sent shivers down her spine and made her skin crawl. Something was off about him, not quite right. It put her hackles up. She kept a close eye on him, making sure he didn’t give her waitstaff any trouble, hassle any of her men or women. But he kept a low profile. He didn’t complain. He didn’t joke. He acknowledged his server’s presence just long enough to ensure prompt service but nothing more. He didn’t flirt with anyone, male or female, young or old. A lone male completely in his own space, ignoring anyone and anything in his surroundings.

  So why did she feel like he was watching her?

  When Sarah showed up, grinning and as chipper as if she hadn’t been called in on her night off, Lisa didn’t return to her office. The paperwork could wait. She’d stay late this evening if she had to. She wanted to keep watch on Mr. Businessman, make sure he stayed on his best behavior. Never let it be said that she didn’t look out for her people. She stopped to talk to Mike then wandered over to the bar. She nodded to the bartender but didn’t interrupt him.

  Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Nothing happened. The businessman ate dessert and drank coffee. He paid his bill and left a decent tip, not extravagant but not a gyp either. He picked up his nondescript briefcase and walked out the door. He didn’t so much as visit the john on the way out.

  Lisa shook her head. Her instincts were off. Way off. It’d been too long since she’d been in the trenches. She couldn’t even spot a jerk. But she shouldn’t be so surprised. The weird turn in her personal life was obviously throwing everything else off kilter. With a mental shrug she headed back to her office and the massive pile of backed-up paperwork.

  No rest for the wicked.

  * * * * *

  Hours later a yawning Lisa turned to lock the door to CM. Her security system beeped one last time before setting into what she called sentinel mode. Well after two o’clock, she thanked god that they didn’t do breakfast. Not that she’d be going in at all tomorrow. Sleep late. Take a leisurely shower. Maybe go in for a manicure. Get a full acrylic set, maybe even in a fancy air-brushed French design. Add some sparkle too. Janice kept bragging about her nail lady. A hot date rated new nails at the very least.

  Cars zoomed by, filling the air with a constant engine roar and th
e noxious smell of exhaust. New York wasn’t the only city that never slept. Twenty-four hours a day people drove and walked the streets of Las Vegas. A city filled with life and decadence, it deserved the title more than the Big Apple did.

  A crunch of rock against asphalt gave her warning of impending trouble a split second before strong hands grabbed her.

  She tried to scream but a hard palm slammed over her mouth, cutting the sound off to a muffled yelp. Her hands clawed at her attacker’s fingers, trying to pry free. Her heels scraped the concrete as the man jerked her into his body.

  Lisa’s heart slammed against her rib cage. Her stomach knotted and her body shook convulsively. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. God, please. I don’t want to die. Don’t let me die.

  She reached back, clawing at the man’s face, feeling his flesh jam under her short nails. He grunted but didn’t let go, instead increased the pressure of his hold. He pulled her along toward a dark-colored van parked away from the streetlights.

  If he gets me in there I’m dead. Pictures of what a body dumped in the desert would look like after a couple of weeks flashed in her mind. Sun and insects. Dear sweet god.

  Lisa kicked and growled beneath the hand on her mouth. With his arm hooked around her waist both her hands were free. She took advantage of his mistake. She reached back again but not to claw his face. She meant business. To hell with gross. She found his eyes, shoving in with both her thumbs.

  A soft pop sounded and viscous fluid flowed over her hands. The shriek he gave defined the word “inhuman”. The high-pitched screech shook the glass of CM’s windows and had Lisa cupping her ears. But she didn’t stick around to see how much damage she did to him. She felt liquid and flesh clinging to her skin and that was enough for her. She staggered forward, away from her attacker and away from his howls of pain.

  As she dashed toward the safety of the lights and people she tripped over something. It skidded across the ground in front of her as she stumbled, managing to keep on her feet.

  A briefcase. A familiar, black, nondescript briefcase. The businessman’s briefcase. It popped open, duct tape and knives flying everywhere across the asphalt.

  Lisa’s stomach heaved, causing her to gag. Her teeth chattered. Panic froze her muscles as her vision wavered and grayed. But the sound of feet staggering behind her and her attacker’s harsh breaths punctuated by pain-filled whimpers set her back in motion.

  Starting to scream, she ran for the gas station across the street. People and a phone. She needed people and a phone.

  Please let me make it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Heart racing, sweat covering his entire body, bile coating his tongue, Julian jerked awake. Darkness embraced him as his muscles trembled, spasms tossing his body. Bed sheets twisted around him, tying him in place. Car exhaust and blood filled his nose. When the vision struck hard, particularly brutal, he had trouble pulling himself back to the present reality.

  The king-sized bed shifted as Tim grumbled next to him, yanking Julian free to curl closer beneath the satin sheets. Julian pulled him in his arms and forced several deep even breaths, chills racking his body as the image of Lisa’s terror-filled face burned the back of his eyes. He could still hear the ear-piercing scream of the man as her fingers shoved into his eyes, blinding him. Her panting answering cries as she ran for safety echoed endlessly in his fevered mind.

  She’s okay. You know she’s okay. She got away. This time.

  He squeezed Tim and kissed his forehead, using him as a focal point. He needed an anchor to hold on to, to bring him back to the real. Tim smiled in his sleep and snuggled closer with a snuffling noise. Julian took comfort in the darkened room and the warm feeling of his lover tucked next to him. His chest loosened and tears that threatened to fall never came.

  It took several minutes before he regained his composure. But when he was ready to deal with the crisis and turn it to their advantage, Julian reached over to his nightstand and grabbed the cordless. He punched in a familiar number.

  “Hello, Detective Ramirez speaking,” a deep voice rumbled in his ear, the hint of a New Mexican accent still present after all these years in Nevada.

  Julian remembered the first time he met Manuel in boot camp. Big, beefy, a linebacker of a man, he’d pegged Manuel as being a clone of his father and prepared for the snide, cutting comments, if not outright physical bullying. Instead much to his surprise he found a friend trustworthy enough to let in on a few of his secrets without worry of contempt. A man he could depend on in times like these.

  “Manny,” he said without preamble, “I need a favor.”

  “Damn, Julian,” Manny all but whined. The rapid-fire click of his ballpoint pen echoed over the line. “Not another one of your dreams. I’m not gonna get hit with another serial homicide or spree killing? Tell me you want tickets to the charity ball. Carla’s just getting used to me being home at a halfway decent hour.”

  Julian grimaced. He didn’t blame Manny for his petulant response. They didn’t socialize as much as they used to. His life centered on loving Tim and trying to find Lisa and saving the world from demonic invasion. Not much room left for downtime. Instead Julian found himself butting in on Manny’s professional life. The last case he’d helped with had left him with nightmares for weeks, and he was used to seeing the cruelty of human kind on a grand scale. He could only imagine how his bighearted jovial friend had dealt with it. “This is a little more serious than a nice date night but not a homicide. I had a dream about a woman I know. I want to check on things.”

  “A woman?” Manny asked, the teasing note he was infamous for singing across the line, almost overpowering his relief. “Tim know about her? Do I need to be ready to break up a domestic call up at that pricey condo of yours?”

  “Yes, Tim knows and we just met so quit with the innuendoes. I may move fast but not that fast.” Julian paused as Tim cracked one droopy eye open and scooted his head back to his own pillow to get a better look at him. Julian patted his hand in reassurance. “Her name is Lisa Harrington. She was attacked tonight outside her restaurant, Culinary Magic. She escaped, leaving her attacker wounded, possibly blinded.”

  “Okay, what do you want from me? It’s out of my area. I don’t get the kidnapping or rape cases unless there’s a body involved.”

  Tim laced his fingers with Julian’s and kissed his knuckles. Julian appreciated the wordless support. This is where things could get tricky. He didn’t know exactly how Manny would react to the situation, not if he knew everything. ESP was one thing, demon hordes another entirely. But how much could he get away with telling him? “I know, no bodies, not your thing. Actually all I need you to do is give her some advice for me without telling her it’s from me. There’s more trouble heading her way and I’d like to know she’s safe, taken care of.”

  “You saw more?” Manny asked, intrigued now. Julian’s power always piqued his curiosity. Hopefully being intrigued was enough to get him to go along with the rest of Julian’s plan. “This wasn’t a random attack,” he stated, mentally getting his facts straight. “Okay, what do you need her to know?”

  Julian held on to Tim, his personal touchstone. Here’s where he could lose Manny. “Have her contact my company for security,” Julian said, quick to continue before Manny could ask for an explanation. “I want to be in charge. She’s going to need all the help she can get for this and I’d feel better being in on it from the beginning. Maybe stop it before she becomes one of yours.”

  “Attracted a crazy stalker? Trying to keep her alive?” Manny stopped for a second then snickered. “Or are you using your gifts to hit on people now? Tim not enough for you so you’re scouting out the weird realms for dates? Man, I had more respect for you than that.”

  Julian refused to rise to the bait. He wouldn’t win. Even being able to see into the future he didn’t have enough power to match verbal wits with Manny Ramirez. “Not quite. Tim’s always taken good care of my needs, thanks for asking. Will you do
it?”

  Silence met his question, seconds ticking by. Finally he heard Manny taking a deep drag on one of the cigars his wife refused to let him smoke in her house. He could only sneak one when he was in the privacy of his office. “Protect and serve,” he muttered on his exhalation “I admit I’d like to be preventative for once, keep my workload down. One less cold one on the slab, one less unsolved homicide sounds fine by me.”

  Julian closed his eyes, thanking that bit of divine intervention that had put Manny into his squad all those years ago. Who knew how much one good friend could affect the rest of your life? “Thank you.”

  “Do you want me to tell her the name of the company’s owner?” his friend teased, unwilling to let things be.

  “No, not yet,” Julian answered, waiting for the interrogation to begin. But the harassment he had to deal with now was worth it if he knew that Lisa would be safe. He’d be there for her this time, be able to protect her. If he was right this attack was only the beginning of a major assault.