by Martha Carr
One more delay and I’m gonna fucking lose it.
The whole point of hopping on a supersonic flight was to get her back to Los Angeles as soon as possible, not get routed to Seattle and wait around for another flight. Now that she was finally on a flight back to her original destination, she still couldn’t relax.
Shay had given the Professor a quick call to inform him she’d be following up on the raid after Brownstone’s issues were settled. He didn’t seem to mind or care. With the artifact having already exploded, the man’s urgency concerning the Ainu carving had vanished.
Even if he didn’t care, the tomb raider cared. She didn’t have time to run off trying to save Brownstone’s ass every time he got in trouble—which had been a lot lately.
Fucking Brownstone. This is shitty timing.
But it wasn’t his fault. It was the damned Harriken.
Shay frowned. The Harriken were idiots. The assholes should have learned their lesson and left the man alone. If the hitmen didn’t take him down, he was only going to come at them again.
And she’d help him.
The tomb raider blinked at the realization. It wasn’t attraction motivating her, even if she didn’t mind a peek or two at Brownstone’s muscles. It was something deeper. Respect.
She didn’t understand a lot of what went on in the bounty hunter’s mind, but between his skills and the way he’d thrown himself into looking after Alison, her esteem kept rising.
Even with half the underworld of LA bearing down on him, Brownstone seemed more concerned with Alison than his own life. It also meant he accepted he might die.
You’re just a man in the end, huh? I can respect that. That fear might just keep you alive. The cocky ones always die in the end.
It shouldn’t have been any of her business if killers came after Brownstone, but she’d made it hers when she helped him assault the Belmont House. She’d had her chance to stay out of it, but had run right into the thick of the killings.
What the fuck ever. Might as well help finish what I started, and I don’t like these cocky Harriken bastards.
Someone yelled a few seats behind her. That was what she got for not shelling out for first-class between Seattle and Los Angeles. Shay might be a foul-mouthed ex-killer, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a travel snob. She’d thought the quick trip from Seattle to Los Angeles wouldn’t necessitate the upgrade.
“Don’t you get it?” the voice yelled. “It’s all a trick. Lemons? Limes? They’re the same damn thing, and I’m tired of everyone pretending otherwise. Wake up, sheeple.”
Shay frowned and looked over her shoulder. A red-faced man gesticulated wildly from his seat at a worried-looking flight attendant. Someone took their citrus very damned seriously.
The flight attendant put a hand in front of her. “There’s no reason to yell. You need to calm down, sir. I think you’ve just had a little too much to drink.”
Perfect. First the damned storm, and now some drunk asshole freaking out. If the man got out of control, the pilot would land the plane early and she’d end up delayed again in some annoying place like Sacramento.
You better calm down if you don’t want me involved, asshole.
The man shoved the flight attendant, and she yelped and fell. The woman scrambled back to her feet.
The drunk shot out of his seat. “Don’t tell me to fucking calm down. I will not fucking calm down! Not while all this bullshit is going on!”
The flight attendant ran toward the front of the plane, her eyes wide.
Shay unbuckled her seatbelt and stood. The universe hated her. Maybe not as much as Brownstone, but still.
“Hey, asshole. That woman asked nicely. I’m telling you rudely. Sit your ass back in that chair and shut your yap, or I will sit you there, and you won’t like how I do it.”
The man rounded on her, his eyes wild. “You don’t tell me what to do. I can talk about fruit all I want. It’s my damned right as an American. What did we even have the Revolution for?”
“Not to debate lemons and limes.” Shay shrugged. “Look, I don’t give a shit what you want to talk about, but you need to sit your ass down so they don’t land this plane before we arrive in Los Angeles. I have an important appointment.”
The man squared his shoulders. “Fuck you, bitch.”
The tomb raider glared at him and moved forward. “Okay, now we’re gonna count down to one. Three…”
“I have the right to express my opinions on lemons and limes! This is America, not Denmark.”
Denmark? Huh? Wait, I can’t get caught up in his bullshit. I need to end this.
“Two…”
The man shook his fist at her. “Who the fuck are you supposed to be, an air marshal? I’ll take this whole plane down if I need to.”
“One.” Shay rolled her eyes and laid him out with one punch. He fell to the ground, groaning.
She shook out her fist and hurried back to her seat to grab her backpack. A few seconds later, she returned to the man with a roll of duct tape in hand.
The other passengers watched her with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.
“Don’t worry. I’m a pro.” Shay pushed the half-stunned man into his seat. The rip of duct tape filled the cabin as she treated the man as if he were a leaky pipe, starting with his mouth.
The co-pilot and two flight attendants ran down the aisle and stopped a few feet behind Shay, astonishment on their faces.
Shay continued taping the man into his seat. “Always be prepared. Duct tape is a necessity on all trips.”
The other passengers cheered and applauded.
The flight attendant from before approached Shay. “Are you an air marshal? I didn’t realize we had one on the flight.”
Shay shook her head. “A teacher.”
“Oh, I get it. You’ve done this before.”
“Something like that.”
“Thank you. Is there anything we can do to pay you back? We can at least offer you complimentary drinks.”
Shay shook her head. “If you really want to show your gratitude, make sure this plane lands in Los Angeles.” She pointed with her thumb at the duct-taped man. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Finally!
Shay yanked her phone out of her pocket and turned it on as she hurried down the LAX jetway. She winced as she spotted the missed call from Brownstone.
She played the message he’d left as she stepped into the boarding gate.
“Hey, Shay, it’s me. You know me…I hate to ask anyone for a favor, but I’m trying to be real about how shit might end up in the next few days.” He took a deep breath. “Look, don’t know if you’re coming back, but if you are, don’t come to LA. I’d rather you stayed with Alison until I figure out how to take care of the Harriken and get this hit taken care of. The Harriken know about her, even if they don’t know where she is. For all I know, they might still think they can weasel her mother’s inheritance out of her.
“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. She’s in a magic school surrounded by a bunch of wizards and witches who could turn their asses into toads or whatever. I thought she’d be safe there, but now I’m not sure. Maybe it’s like in Raiders of the Lost Ark where the guy has the sword and Indy just pulls out the gun. You know, like don’t bring a magic wand to a gunfight. How many of these magical asshole professors have ever been in a fight? How do I know they don’t have some stupid rules about killing bastards who come for them?”
“Anyway, I’d appreciate it if you make sure Alison is okay. And thank you. You make a hell of an aunt.”
Shay let out a sigh, her left hand cradling her forehead.
A few more steps moved Shay away from the stream of disembarking people, and she rubbed the back of her neck as she thought about her next course of action.
Damn it, Brownstone. Why did you have to make this harder than it already was?
The field archaeologist hurried toward baggage claim, still trying to decide what the hell she should even
do.
Brownstone could be right about the school.
Of course, a hitman who could use magic was a different matter entirely.
Shay stepped on an escalator. Even if the hitman didn’t have the same power level or skills as the teachers at the school, he still might be able to take them out.
The problem with violence was that people misunderstood what made a dangerous killer versus a victim.
The key wasn’t what tool a person used.
If Brownstone had made that call he was in over his head, which meant he needed her help. But he’d also asked her to watch Alison.
A long groan escaped Shay’s lips.
Peyton would never be able to kick ass like Shay or Brownstone or even Lily, but there was one skill he could learn that would impress the hardened ex-killer.
He patted his long, white apron and smiled at the stone oven in the corner. It had taken a little work to get proper venting set up, but now it was ready and aching for him to use it and deliver some good old-fashioned pizza to his stomach.
Maybe I’ll open my own pizza place. Cooking has to be easier than what I do on a computer every day. It’s just about following a recipe. How hard could that be?
Peyton cracked his knuckles and moved over to the small folding table he’d set up to hold his ingredients.
“You ready for this?” He grinned at Lily who even managed a smile. He had drawn a decent rendition of a flying dragon over the multi-colors on her cast. Having her around was even making him miss his beastly family less.
“It’s not too late to order something. Purity Solutions could even pick it up. I’m starving.” Lily patted her belly.
“You’re always starving. It’s your resting state. Have a little faith. I can figure this out.”
Yeast, flour, salt, and a little water. It was almost the simplest recipe in the world. It wasn’t like he was making mole sauce.
“One teaspoon? Hmm.” He measured out some yeast and added it to a bowl on the table. “Huh. Wait. That was one tablespoon, but it shouldn’t make that much of a difference. Way more flour than yeast anyway. I’m sure it’s just an order of magnitude thing.”
Peyton added the water, flour, and salt and then started whisking away while humming.
“This is kind of relaxing, actually. Wait, added too much flour. Probably should add some more yeast to balance it out. A couple more tablespoons shouldn’t hurt. Still a lot more flour.” He nodded.
“Are you talking to me or the pizza.”
“Then it’s time to knead. Watch out, Shay, I’m going to make all other pizzas seem like garbage.”
“The pizza.” Lily sat back on a chair and opened a magazine.
Peyton grimaced as the overpowering yeast stench from the oven assaulted his nostrils. The smell mixed with the pepperoni scent. Bile rose in his throat.
Lily covered her mouth as she waved the magazine in the air. “What the hell did you do? It smells like a sewer backed up in here. Is that what happened?”
The warehouse didn’t have a lot in the way of natural airflow, so no matter where he walked, a smothering cloud of yeast nastiness waited to choke him and remind him of his awful failure.
“This is…not good. So not good.” He shook his head. “Okay, so there is such a thing as too much yeast. Good to know.” He picked up the pizza and tossed it into a trash can. “I’ve got to air this place out before someone calls a HAZMAT team.”
“If you leave the loading bay doors open Shay will point her gun at your head. Does the ceiling open up? What? There’s a lot of weird shit in these warehouses. An opening ceiling would not be even in the top ten.”
Peyton shook his head. “No opening up there, although not a bad idea for my to-do list. I can figure out how to deal with the smell later. I still need to get a halfway decent pizza finished, and now I know to use the measurements in the recipe and not be so inexact.”
“You’re talking to the pizza again, aren’t you. Fuck, dude, I’m going out for some air. You stay in this if you want to and I’m taking cash from the petty cash drawer.”
“That was my secret stash.”
“Found it the first night and I was on pain killers. You would die in the wild.” Lily tucked two twenties in her pocket and headed for the side door.
“I’ve been in the field before,” Peyton protested.
“How’d that go? I thought so,” said Lily, as she pulled the door behind her.
Peyton grimaced as he tilted his head and calculated how much yeast he’d added.
Okay, maybe nine times as much as called for was a little excessive.
With a renewed respect for quantities Peyton prepared new dough, humming as he kneaded and rolled it out.
“It’s not just about the oven,” he murmured. “And if I can’t mess with the recipe much, it’s got to be about technique. That’s got to be the key. Might as well do it like the pros.”
Peyton picked up the dough and tossed it in the air. It couldn’t be that difficult. After all, he’d seen it done countless times at the pizza places Shay had taken him to.
“This isn’t so…” he stared down at his now dough-covered shoe, “hard.”
Peyton’s stomach rumbled as he stuck the wooden pizza paddle underneath his latest attempt at an edible pizza and transferred it to a tray. His prep had included perfect measurements and no clever dough-handling stunts. Everything was finally going according to plan.
Sure, the whole building still smelled like he’d fallen into a yeast vat, but he’d gotten used to it.
All the suffering and trials had led to this point. He’d taste the delicious pepperoni pizza he’d made with his own two hands and remember that no man improved himself without some setbacks.
“I wonder if Shay would get mad if I started calling myself ‘the Pizza King?’” Peyton chuckled and shook his head.
He paced in front of the pizza, giving it a few more minutes to cool.
The steel of the pizza cutter glinted in the light as he lifted it.
“I declare thee the first victim of the Pizza King. Your crime? Being too delicious.”
Peyton sliced the pizza into six pieces and picked up one. The color looked decent. Maybe a little more cheese was in order and the pepperoni could have been sliced with more consistency, but it wasn’t half-bad.
The delicious smell made his stomach gurgle again, and he bit down.
Peyton managed to keep the bite in his mouth a whole three seconds before he spat it out. So much for taste aligning with smell.
“What the hell? I followed the damn recipe, so why does it taste like vinegar and soy sauce had a baby together on my pizza?” Peyton dropped his face into his hands. “The rebels are winning. The Pizza King may be deposed. Where’s Lily with some food?”
Peyton sighed as he finished putting his ingredients away in the breakroom cabinet and refrigerator. Lily had taken pity on him and brought back a burger and fries, still warm.
“I still don’t understand what I did wrong.”
“The way I see it, it’s like my training. More complicated than it looks on the surface but if you’re willing to hang in there, you’ll get it. Of course, tell Shay about my business like working out already, again and I’ll bust apart your oven.”
“Deal. We should stick together. I only pray that Shay doesn’t decide to watch the warehouse surveillance feed. She might never reveal her secret warehouse to me after witnessing the catastrophe.”
“What do you think is in there?”
“Could be anything. Men held in suspended animation. Magical artifacts all her own. I don’t know, I’m out. That’s all I have.”
“You’re bent, dude,” said Lily, slurping up the rest of her chocolate milkshake.
“Did you bring me one of those? That hurts.”
“One good arm. Be glad for what you did get.”
Peyton’s phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. Shay. It was like she knew what he’d done. Maybe she had watched the fe
ed. He waved frantically at Lily to be quiet.
“What? She knows I live here.”
“Hey, Shay.”
“Just wanted you to know there’s been a change in plans,” Shay explained.
“What?”
“I’m going to Virginia to stay with Alison until Brownstone gets his shit cleaned up.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I’ve already contacted the Professor about the job.”
“Need me or Lily to do anything?” Peyton asked.
“Nope. When I come back you’ll need to check out the phone, but nothing before then. Don’t do anything stupid or make a mess and you’ll be fine.”
Peyton glanced at the closed refrigerator.
I cleaned up the mess. The Pizza King is not yet vanquished.
Shay cleared her throat. “Just thought of something.”
Peyton winced. Please don’t ask about the pizza.
“Since the Ainu thing’s on the backburner, go ahead and look into those symbols. I’ve got some interesting leads, but I want to see what you turn up.”
“Oh, sure. Will do.”
“Don’t call me unless it’s important.” Shay hung up.
He let out a sigh of relief. He’d say one thing for online magical research—it didn’t end with the building smelling awful.
“You look like you got away with something, Peyton. Keep a perspective. It’s smelly pizza. Not like you gave away our location or something.”
15
Alison smiled. “I’m glad you’re going to be able to spend the next few days with me, and I’m sorry I can’t cancel all my stuff.”
Shay shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I was just in the area and figured I’d stop by. You never know when I’ll be able to, so I might as well when I can, right?”
“I’ll be back in my room in an hour.” Alison waved as she stepped out of the lunchroom.
Shay forced a smile on her face as she sat back down at a table. The school agreed to let her stay for a few days. She found herself wanting to call and check on Lily even more. Something about seeing all these teenagers running around worrying about passing a test in Spells class.
