[Jennifer Cloud 01.0] The Shoes Come First

by Janet Leigh

  “Don’t worry, sometimes the foreign folks take on an American name to make life a little easier.”

  “Oh, like in the nail salons back home—my manicurist is named Nicky, but she always asks if I ‘like nail.’”

  Ace laughed at my impression of Nicky.

  “Let me ask you something.” I turned to Ace.

  “Shoot, sweetheart.”

  “When I touch Marco, there is this huge amount of heat that just about makes me explode.”

  “Well, I would too; he’s hot.”

  “No, I’m serious, and when I’m with Caiyan, the heat is there, but it’s different, subtle, more like a humming, but then when we kiss, just as powerful.”

  “Hmm.” Ace thought. “All travelers give out heat when they connect with each other, but most of us stabilize as we reach adulthood.”

  “When I touch you, I don’t feel a zap of heat.”

  “Give me your hand.” Ace held out his open palm for me.

  I placed my hand in his. “Now concentrate; how do I feel?”

  “Your hand is warm but in a comfortable way.”

  “No, hon, how do I feel inside? Concentrate.”

  I sat for a minute, then closed my eyes, and I felt mellow, kind of happy but with a little fear. I explained this to Ace.

  “I think you are a reader. You can feel emotion, you know, like read people’s feelings. I’ve heard of others who have similar gifts.”

  “Why is Marco on fire when we touch?”

  “Probably Marco has a lot of pent-up hostility, and he doesn’t know how to control himself like our cool cat Caiyan, who’s had years of practice hiding his real feelings from the world.”

  “Why do you think Caiyan hides his feelings?”

  “Who knows, but maybe you could solve the mystery.”

  The cab pulled over, and the driver said, “Here we are. That will be ten fifty.”

  I peered out the window. “Ace, this isn’t a costume shop—this is Macy’s,” I said in awe.

  “You need a coat, and I might need a few things.” He winked at the cab driver. “Don’t forget the receipt.”

  Chapter 21

  At 1500 hours, after shopping and eating a fabulous lunch at Sardi’s, where Ace knew just about everyone, we returned to Marco’s apartment. I didn’t think we were keeping such a low profile, but we had fun. Ace and I stood at the stoop surrounded by our packages. Where else were we supposed to get ready? We buzzed Marco, but no response. He was probably hoping we would go away. Ace hit all the buttons until someone let us in. I wondered how many serial killers had been buzzed in before us. We took the elevator up to the top, and Marco opened his door dressed in full racing gear with the exception of his helmet.

  “Nice, very original,” Ace said. “No one will ever guess it’s you.”

  “You didn’t expect me to go out and rent a stupid costume, did ya?” Marco stepped aside to let us enter.

  “You could at least throw a mask on,” Ace said.

  “I’m wearing my lucky racing baseball cap.” He grinned, plopping a red cap adorned with his sponsors’ logos on his head.

  “I need to borrow a shower, and Jen needs to freshen up a little.”

  Marco sighed and pointed toward a hallway. “You can use the guest bath down the hall on the right.”

  “I just need to get something warm to drink,” I said. “It’s cold outside.”

  “Must be that thin Texas blood running through your veins.”

  “Was that a dig at my home state?”

  “No, that was a dig at your bloodline.” He frowned as he used a state-of-the-art espresso maker like a pro.

  “He’s just jealous, hon, because unlike our avaricious ancestors, yours actually tried to find the missing keys and took nothing for themselves.” Ace swished off toward Marco’s shower.

  “I guess that’s why you guys have trust funds and I work for my brother.” I envisioned Marco’s grandfather carrying chests of gold while Aint Elma hoed her homegrown vegetables.

  Marco handed me an espresso, and I slid onto a barstool at his kitchen counter.

  Marco leaned against the dark granite counter of his immaculate kitchen. “Having to work for what you have is not a bad thing. It builds character. You value what you have, and you don’t take things for granted.”

  “You sound like my mother.” I sipped my espresso. “Is that why you live here in SoHo and not Park Avenue?”

  “I like the people here. They work during the day and keep to themselves at night. No one asks questions. I own the building, so I am able to keep my vessel safe. I don’t like being in the public eye. But I do like racing.”

  “Does your key help you win races?”

  Marco straightened up, avoiding my question. “You can use my room to change, if you like.” He reached for my empty espresso cup and set it in the sink.

  I made him uncomfortable, so the key must have played a role, which meant he had it close. I gathered my purchases, compliments of the WTF, and paused for a moment before I went to his room.

  “Marco, why do you think there is so much heat exchanged between us?” I asked.

  He shrugged, and then an evil smile kicked up the corners of his mouth. “I’m not sure, but I bet the sex would be unbelievable.”

  “Um.” I looked down and kicked some imaginary dirt around on his hardwood floors.

  “Don’t worry, I can tell you have some confusion rambling around in that head of yours. I’ll try to keep my distance, at least for today.”

  I smiled. “Deal, and thanks for helping us.”

  He frowned. “I’m helping you and Gertie.”

  “Right, well, thanks anyway.” I turned and power walked down the hall. Part of me hoped he might change his mind, and the other part kept aching for Caiyan. I didn’t know where I factored Jake into the whole scheme. Thinking about it made my head hurt. Is it possible to love three men at the same time?

  At precisely 1600 hours, Caiyan and Brodie appeared at Marco’s door. Caiyan was dressed entirely in black, with a black fedora-style hat pulled down low over one eye. He had a rose tucked between his teeth.

  “Who am I?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “Let me guess, Don Juan.” Suited him perfectly.

  He removed the rose. “Aye. Right on the money. I hoped it might take a few tries. I thought for sure you would go with Zorro.”

  Seriously? I thought to myself.

  Brodie had a briefcase with him. He gently sat it down on the coffee table, and after he fiddled with a combination lock, the top flipped open. Inside were several types of listening devices, headsets, and gadgets I didn’t recognize. Mission Impossible was right on target.

  “Where is Ace?” Brodie asked. “I need to fit him for a mic.”

  “Right here, love.” He was in the hallway leaning against the far wall, right hand behind his head and the other hand resting on his hip in a sexy pose. He looked great. An exact duplicate of Marilyn Monroe. White halter dress with a flared skirt, mole on the left cheek and short, sexy blond wig. We all stood slack-jawed staring at Ace. I walked over to him.

  “Amazing. How did you get your eyelashes so long? They are exquisite.”

  “They’re Eyelets,” he said, batting his luxurious lashes at me.

  “Whatlets?” I asked.

  “Eyelets, individual lashes that glue on. It does take a while, but you can’t even tell they’re fake. The only problem was the store was out of my normal superhold glue, so I had to buy the cheaper kind. I’m not sure it holds as good.”

  “Well, I think they look one hundred percent real,” I said.

  He smiled and walked over to Marco, who stood eyeing him across the room. “Whatcha think, big boy?”

  “I think we need to have a no-contact policy at the wedding.”

  “You’re no fun. Who’s going to believe I’m your date?” Ace asked.

  Marco frowned and backed up a few paces from Ace.

  Brodie fitted each of u
s with an undetectable earpiece and microphone. In order to talk, I just had to press the pearl brooch he attached to my sweater.

  I wondered why I needed a communication device since I wasn’t going on the inside, but Brodie explained Jake wanted everyone outfitted in case we got separated. Marco refused.

  “I am only getting you in the place, that’s it,” Marco insisted.

  After we were all communication ready and tested, Brodie’s cell phone rang. A brief conversation ended with a concerned look from our Australian defender. He explained to us that Jake had to wait for the van, and I should ride in the limousine with Caiyan and him. Thank God Brodie would be there too. Being alone with Caiyan for a two-hour ride outside New York City was not what I needed right now. Ace and Marco would go in Marco’s car and arrive at the wedding first. The limo would drop me and Brodie off at the rendezvous with Jake. Caiyan would arrive at the wedding ten minutes later, hopefully distracting the Mafusos to make them keep an eye on him, allowing Ace to snoop around.

  We followed Marco into the elevator and down to the garage, where most of the occupants of the apartment housed their vehicles.

  “Oh, baby, I love your toys!” exclaimed Ace as he stood in front of a shining red Enzo Ferrari. Marco also had a black Ducati Desmosedici motorcycle in the next space. Caiyan and Brodie circled the machines like they were doing some kind of lust-filled tribal dance.

  “I didn’t know these bikes came in black, yeah?” Caiyan asked as if experienced in the world of motorcycles. Meanwhile Brodie’s tongue practically hung out of his mouth as he ran his hand down the car.

  “They don’t,” Marco answered proudly. “It was a gift from my mother. She had it custom painted for me.” They bobbed their heads in male bonding approval. Geesh, I felt like Jimmy Kimmel would be coming around the corner to hand out man cards any second.

  “Guys, we need to get a move on. Wedding, remember?” I broke up the summit, and heads bobbed in agreement.

  A long black limousine waited out in the street. Marco and Ace hopped in the Ferrari while Caiyan, Brodie, and I walked out of the garage and climbed into the limo. In all the excitement over the boy toys, Ace had accidentally pushed his microphone, and it was stuck in the on position, because we could hear everything Marco and Ace said. Apparently the device worked walkie-talkie fashion, because I tried to tell him he was stuck on, but he didn’t respond.

  “How fast can she go?” Ace asked Marco.

  “Oh, I’ve gone up to one hundred and sixty miles per hour on the highway, but she should max at two hundred and twenty-five mph, no problem.”

  We heard the deep growl of the Ferrari’s engine as Marco revved the motor, making it come to life.

  “It’s stuffy in here,” Ace said. “When was the last time you drove this thing?”

  “Damn, Ace, you are so high maintenance. I drove it about a month ago; I usually ride the bike in the city. Here’s the air.”

  We heard a click as Marco turned on the air, and Ace shrieked, “Not the air!”

  Caiyan, Brodie, and I looked at each other.

  Pretty soon Ace’s voice came over his transmitter: “Base, we have a problem.”

  The limo circled the block, and we returned to the garage, where Marco and Ace were both standing outside the car yelling at each other.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as I ran toward them.

  Marco shrugged. “How was I supposed to know the air was on high?”

  I looked over at Ace. His once beautiful, luxurious eyelashes were now stuck individually all over his face. His blond wig was hanging haphazardly on his head, and he had broken a nail trying to fight the air vent.

  “Bullocks,” Caiyan said, coming up behind me.

  “No shit, man,” Brodie stated. “Should I call Agent McCoy and tell him we will be late?”

  “We can’t be late. It’s a wedding!” I said. “How would it look if we sauntered down the aisle after the bride?”

  “She’s right; it would attract too much attention. We need to arrive with the other guests,” Caiyan added.

  “It will take at least an hour to redo my makeup,” said Ace.

  “Let me change clothes with Ace. I’ll go in with Marco,” I said.

  Three simultaneous nos sounded as one.

  “It’s our only choice, mate,” Brodie said matter-of-factly. “We need more than one op on the inside. I don’t have a costume, and I’m not wearing that dress. I’m not telling our boss, because he will nix the whole plan, and I think we need to get in there tonight. The longer we wait, the more time they have to find Jen’s vessel and hurt Gertie.”

  Ace and I returned upstairs to Marco’s apartment. Brodie, Caiyan, and Marco stayed downstairs to salivate over the motorcycle and probably talk about all the ways to keep me out of trouble. In ten minutes tops, I was in Ace’s dress, and he had added some blush and blue eye shadow to my makeup, put extra mascara on my eyelashes, and glued the fake mole to my cheek. The dress was longer on me but looked good enough. Everything fit except the shoes, and luckily I had purchased a pair of white Fendi strappy heels while we were out shopping. I thought Jake owed me a pair of shoes for not telling me about lateral travel. Besides, they matched the white cashmere coat I purchased perfectly. I mean, what’s a girl to do? It was cold outside.

  We returned to the garage and headed out to the wedding.

  We took the on-ramp to the Long Island Expressway. Apparently there was only one way out to the Mafusos’ mansion in the Hamptons. Marco and I followed the limo, leaving the famous city’s skyline behind us. When we reached a stretch of highway with lighter traffic, Marco zoomed past the limo and showed me how fast his car accelerated. I tuned out Caiyan growling objections in my earpiece.

  Riding in the Ferrari was exhilarating. The powerful sound of the engine, the smell of the leather seats, and the smooth ride felt like we were going 40 miles per hour when we were actually doing 120 miles per hour.

  “Wahoo!” I held my hands up in roller-coaster fashion as we came flying down a hill. Marco laughed at me and shook his head. We slowed down so as not to get too far ahead of the limo.

  I had so many questions about my gift, and I knew Marco could answer some of them for me. I wasn’t sure how to approach him, knowing he was hesitant to talk about his gift. I decided just to dive in and see what happened.

  “I never really knew my aint Elma.”

  Silence.

  “Um, why don’t you tell me what happened the night your grandfather died? Maybe it would clear up a few things for me.”

  More silence. He kept his eyes on the road, and for a minute I thought he wasn’t going to answer.

  “He came to my race in Monte Carlo. I thought he was coming just to watch me. My grandfather loved the Grand Prix races. He began racing as a very young man and never intended to build street cars.”

  “I’m glad he changed his mind; this car is fabulous,” I said, running my hand over the soft-as-butter leather.

  Marco nodded in agreement, then continued with his story. “After the test runs on the first day, he told me he needed my key. I told him no. I was using my vessel to race. He told me Elma had gone back and was in trouble. One of the other defenders, Caiyan, actually, had been on a mission. He came back in bad shape, three broken bones in his hand and arm. Broken leg. He also had a severe concussion and was in a drug-induced coma until the swelling around his brain was reduced.”

  “Why was Caiyan with Elma?” I asked.

  “After my grandfather retired, she became Caiyan’s transporter. He was new, and the WTF wanted someone with experience. You should have heard him bitch about how old she was, but I know that lady was tough as nails. My grandfather wanted her to retire, but she said there was no one, and her legacy would die when she did. Then she found you.”

  I was fuming. Caiyan had known my aint Elma very well and never said a word. Rat-bastard-rat.

  “You knew about me?”

  “When it was discovered that I was a defende
r, my grandfather was so proud. He took me everywhere to teach me. One day we went to the white house in the country.”

  “Aint Elma’s house.”

  “Yes, I had just turned sixteen, and the WTF wasn’t ready to let me go on a mission yet. My grandfather wanted to introduce me to his transporter. She was like no one I had ever met. Strong but pretty in a Katharine Hepburn kind of way. I could tell by the way he looked at her, they were more than just friends. I heard Elma say it wouldn’t be long until you were of age, and then you could be my transporter.”

  “But I’m Caiyan’s transporter. Is that because you are not traveling? Was I supposed to be with you all this time?”

  “No. You are not meant to be my transporter. There is someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “It’s complicated. I can’t tell you, because she doesn’t know what she is, and I don’t want her involved in this mess.”

  “She must be very special if you want to protect her, but don’t you think she has the right to make her own decision?”

  “No!” His response was abrupt, so I didn’t push for more information about his transporter.

  Marco’s grip tightened on the steering wheel like he was trying to deal with conflicting emotions. I reached out and laid my hand on his shoulder. The warmth trickled into my fingertips. He relaxed and continued his story.

  “My grandfather explained Caiyan couldn’t go back to save Elma. I was young and stupid. I hated her for having an affair with my grandfather. You see, my grandmother, Nonna, and I are very close. My parents were never around much. They were always off at some charity function or promoting the company. I was raised by my nonna. She is a kind woman but very stern. My grandparents were married in Rome before they came to America. Old school, old rules—you marry for life. At least that’s what Nonna always told me. I don’t know if she knew about Elma, but I had a feeling she knew there was someone else.”

  “I’m sure that was difficult for her,” I said sympathetically.