Whiskey Ginger

by Shayne Silvers

  “Ah, a freelancer. You must be very good. I didn’t think anyone would be able to survive the ward, not to mention unshackle Serge and make off with the briefcase.”

  “Wait, are ye sayin’ ye were the one who attached the briefcase to that t’ing?” I asked.

  “It’s the only way to keep his kind in line, trust me.”

  “Well, it didn’t work. He tried to kill me in a park, full of kids.”

  “Well, yes, once you let him off his leash. But I’ll admit that is…unfortunate. I would have heard, though, if a werewolf had gone on a killing spree?” she left the question open-ended, as if giving me an opportunity to elaborate on what had happened.

  I crossed over to Jimmy and felt for his pulse. It was harried, but he seemed to have stopped sweating. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “That t’ing wasn’t a werewolf,” I said, choosing to keep her in the dark; if she didn’t know what happened to her pet skinwalker, I wasn’t about to fill her in.

  “No, it wasn’t,” the woman admitted, sounding surprised that I could distinguish one from the other. “Moonwalkers, skinwalkers…there’s a difference, but not much of one in Serge’s case. Anyway, if you won’t tell me what happened at the park, you can at least tell me if the sweating has stopped.”

  “I swear I’m goin’ to—”

  “Please, threats aren’t necessary. Your friend needs to get warm and hydrate, that’s all. The ward was never designed to kill. Think of it more as a deterrent against theft. Like an alarm retailers attach to clothes, only with a little extra juice. You’re a businesswoman, right? An independent contractor? Name your price. I’m sure we can afford to match whatever you were promised.”

  I pinned the phone to my shoulder, hooked my arms under Jimmy’s armpits from behind, and half-slid, half-dragged him towards the bathroom. I twisted the bathtub’s handle, cupped water in my hand, and poured it liberally down Jimmy’s throat while I waited for it to get warm.

  “So, how much?” the woman asked, clearly impatient.

  “Listen,” I said, too exhausted to lie, although part of me was curious how big a number I could throw out there, “I didn’t want to steal your damn briefcase. To be honest, I don’t even know who ye are or who this briefcase belongs to.”

  “Check the case,” she said.

  “What?”

  “When the ward was activated, our name should have appeared on the side. That way, if we did not find you, you’d find us.”

  Jimmy groaned, sounding absolutely pitiful.

  “I’ll call ye back,” I snapped, then hung up. “I’ll be right back, Jimmy. Hold on.” I scrambled to my feet, almost slipping on the bathroom tiles as I ran back into the living room. The briefcase lay inexplicably upright against the wall where I’d kicked it, a series of letters emblazoned in thick, bold, black letters on the side.

  GrimmTech.

  What the fuck kind of name was GrimmTech?

  Chapter 25

  I’d gotten Jimmy in the shower, fully-clothed, and was gingerly feeding him water when my phone rang again. “Hello?” I answered. After hoisting Jimmy’s body into the tub, it hurt to even hold up the phone; the muscles in my arms were a tight, knotted mess. Less cardio, more weights, I decided.

  Starting next week.

  “You were supposed to call me back,” the woman said, sarcastically.

  “I’ve been busy,” I snapped.

  “Oh, I know. I’ve been monitoring your online activity. So, you know who we are, now, and you know we can afford to negotiate. How much? And, do me a favor, don’t up the price needlessly just because I’m asking politely. I won’t waste my time negotiating.”

  “How do ye know I looked ye up?” I asked, baffled.

  It was true, I had Googled the company almost as soon as I’d seen the name emblazoned on briefcase, scouring the internet for any and all information regarding GrimmTech. I found out it was a German-based company owned by a former CEO of a Fortune 500 company, though it had taken me a while to discover even that much; while the company was publicly traded, nothing about what they made, or what service they provided, was readily available. Of course, it didn’t help that most the articles I’d found were in German, which I definitely couldn’t read.

  “I know what you searched the same way I know your phone number, Quinn MacKenna,” the woman responded, sounding amused.

  Damn, she knew my name, after all. I’d figured as much when she called, but held on to the momentary hope that it had something to do with the magic briefcase, and not caller ID. Still, that didn’t change things. “I can’t give ye the briefcase back,” I confessed. “I’m sorry.”

  “What?” she asked, no longer sounding remotely amused. Part of me felt compelled to lie and tell her what she wanted to hear, to negotiate a deal that would get her off my back long enough to save Dez. But something about how she’d handled things thus far—telling me how to help Jimmy, offering to buy the case back, seeming genuinely startled by the idea that children might have been hurt at the park—made me want to trust her.

  That, or I was simply desperate.

  “The man who sent me to steal the briefcase has someone I care about. It’s not about money,” I explained, opting for the truth.

  “I…see.” The woman paused, and I could hear her clacking away at a keyboard, probably verifying that I even had an aunt to begin with. “Well, this is complicated.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “Indeed. Tell you what, I’ll send someone,” she said.

  “Send someone?”

  “To retrieve the briefcase. To help.” She paused and then rattled off my address. I paled considerably. “You should expect him tomorrow,” she added.

  “What if whoever ye send comes too late?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “I can’t afford to wait.”

  “Then you’ll have to explain to him what happened, and hope he doesn’t think you’re to blame.”

  Oh, sure, because that sounded like a fair trial waiting to happen. I monitored Jimmy’s forehead, glad to see some of his color had returned. “Why aren’t ye comin’, yourself?” I asked.

  “I’m busy, or I would.”

  “Busy with what?”

  “Getting ordained. Sort of.”

  Naturally. I cursed and checked my own forehead to be sure I wasn’t sick, too. This could all be a delirious fever dream, after all. Maybe I was really having a stroke in a parking lot somewhere and this was all part of my twisted imagination?

  I sighed.

  If only.

  “Can ye at least tell me what’s in the case?” I asked. “How do I open it?”

  “You don’t. What’s inside is dangerous, that’s all you need to know. Don’t mess with it. I’ll be in touch.”

  “And who are ye?”

  “Call me Othello.”

  “Really? As in Shakespeare?” I asked, wondering if she knew how unfortunate it was that she went by that name; Othello and Desdemona’s story didn’t exactly work out for anyone involved.

  Spoiler alert.

  Othello chuckled. “Something like that.”

  Then she hung up.

  Chapter 26

  Jimmy tried to speak, but ended up coughing instead. I offered him a cup of water, which he guzzled down before falling back into the mound of pillows I’d piled against the headboard. He looked better, at least, although it had been touch-and-go there for a little while.

  “Quinn…” Jimmy croaked, his voice hoarse.

  “Ye scared me half to death, ye know,” I said.

  “Glad I wasn’t the only one dying,” Jimmy joked, eyes closed.

  I socked him in the arm.

  “What the hell?!” Jimmy exclaimed, his eyes shooting open in surprise.

  “The next time I tell ye not to touch somethin’, what are ye goin’ to do?”

  He grunted. “Do you want me to be honest?”

  I pulled back to sock him again.

  “Kidding, kidding!” he yell
ed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Next time I’ll listen, I promise.” Jimmy’s shoulders fell, and his hands drooped to his lap. “I wanted to help, that’s all. I don’t know what it is, but whenever I end up around you I feel so useless, and I hate it.” He closed his eyes. “Feels like I left one war and walked right into another, sometimes. Except no one but you sees it. How is that possible?”

  “How do Regulars not notice what’s happenin’ around ‘em, ye mean?” I asked.

  Jimmy nodded.

  “They notice,” I declared, after a moment’s hesitation. “They aren’t blind. But what else can they do? Once ye admit the monsters are real, what then?”

  “So we just keep on pretending like nothing’s happening, is that it?” Jimmy asked.

  “The world is an imperfect place, Jimmy Collins,” I said. “If this is the first your hearin’ about it, ye should probably be in a different line of work.”

  Jimmy grunted. “You should work on your bedside manner.”

  “Oh, is that right?” I asked, leaning forward suggestively. “Would ye rather I kissed it and made it better?” I joked.

  Jimmy cocked an eyebrow, then seemed to take stock of where he was for the first time. “Say, Quinn…”

  “You’re wonderin’ how I got ye into bed?” I asked, anticipating his next question. “It wasn’t easy, I can tell ye that. You’re a right heavy fucker, Jimmy. Good t’ing I’m so strong, or you’d still be moanin’ on the floor for ye ma.”

  The truth, of course, was that every muscle in my body was screaming, soundlessly, after carrying him from the bathroom to my bedroom; I’d made an appointment with a massage therapist for next week while he slept. I called the Englishman, too, leaving a voicemail confirming that I’d gotten ahold of his merchandise and was ready to make a trade.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Othello or want her help, but I wasn’t about to let Dez stay a captive any longer than I had to. I was playing a dangerous game, and I knew it. But—between Othello’s creepy access to all things Quinn MacKenna and the kidnapper’s easy access to my aunt’s unprotected throat—I didn’t have the leverage I needed to do much else.

  “Actually,” Jimmy said, bringing me back to the moment at hand, “I was wondering why I’m naked.”

  Oh, right. That.

  “Well,” I said as I studied the ceiling, my cheeks burning, “ye started shiverin’ after I got ye out of the shower, so I thought it best to get your clothes off and put ‘em in the dryer. That, and I didn’t want ye getting’ me bed wet.”

  “Ah,” Jimmy said, sitting up a little, the blankets I’d pinned beneath his armpits sliding down to rest in a pool around his hips.

  Not that I noticed, of course, because I was still admiring the ceiling.

  The plain, white, boring ceiling.

  Jimmy took my hand and held it against his chest, which I realized was lightly coated in tight, curling hair. “You saved my life.”

  “Ye wouldn’t have needed savin’ if I hadn’t called ye in the first place,” I replied. I hated to admit it, but the truth was he’d probably be safe and sound in bed right now if it weren’t for me. What’s worse was the fact that a very selfish part of me was damn glad he wasn’t, even if it had nearly cost him his life.

  “Still, you saved me…”.

  I shrugged, deciding not to argue.

  “And all so you could see me naked, huh?” Jimmy teased.

  I tried to punch him again, except this time he dodged, laughing, the blankets falling away altogether as he rolled off the bed.

  I forgot all about the ceiling.

  “Well,” I said, “it looks like you’re feelin’ better.”

  Jimmy glanced down at himself. “Could probably use a test drive, just to be sure.”

  “Oh, so you’re a car, then?”

  Jimmy shrugged and chuckled, the sound deep, masculine…and not too different from the purr of an engine. Did I mention how I felt about driving a well-muscled vehicle?

  Yeah, that.

  Chapter 27

  Neither of us bothered with the lights. The streetlamps cast a warm, honey glow over the room and over Jimmy, whose skin was usually a shade shy of obsidian. I hadn’t quite realized how in shape he was until I’d had to undress him and tuck him into bed; Jimmy was one of those men who, because of their broad shoulders and sweeping thighs, loomed large in a suit, but who actually had a small, trim waistline. Part of me wished he’d been a little less fit; I didn’t know how to stop from staring.

  Fortunately, Jimmy had a solution.

  He slid his hands up the slope of my neck, his thumbs just below my jaw, and pulled me in for a kiss. I let him. It felt good, being drawn upwards for once, my hands resting on the muscles of his chest and shoulder.

  Jimmy’s hands wandered, working their way up at first, fingers massaging little circles into my back, then back down, hands cupping my ass and raising me up into a deeper, fiercer kiss. It suddenly became very obvious that I was clothed, and he wasn’t.

  Turned out he had a solution for that, too.

  My blouse came off first, then my bra. Jimmy laid both reverently down on the bed, never taking his eyes off mine, not even as he pried loose the button of my jeans. I felt a smooth palm glide down my abdomen and his fingers massage as he explored. I moaned, breathily.

  It registered, faintly, that it had been a while since I’d been with anyone; meeting the right guy was hard, especially since most of the men I knew weren’t even human. Besides, I was picky and, after my last abusive relationship, hesitant to let anyone get too close to me—it’s hard finding a man who can put you up against a wall the right way, after all.

  It didn’t help that I’d always been attracted to the rough, hyper-masculine types, and that, consequently, for a long time I’d confused violence with foreplay. These days I knew better; I wanted a man who understood that being an alpha male meant shutting up the other mutts, not barking loudest.

  Thank God our tastes change.

  After all, I hadn’t always been attracted to Jimmy. Back in high school, he’d been a quiet kid, a looming, gangly giant roaming the halls on his way to and from classes neither of us cared much about. The only reason we got to know each other at all was because I got in so many fights that Dez had insisted I be escorted to and from school. She’d arranged it so, Jimmy—our neighbor from two blocks down—basically became my shadow. Now, even so many years later, I could admit that being around him still made me feel indescribably safe.

  I reached out, squeezing my nails into his flesh. The muscles of his forearm were so firm I could feel them rolling beneath my palm as his fingers flexed and contracted.

  “Not fair,” I said.

  In answer, he turned my head with his free hand and ground his mouth against my throat, licking and nibbling inches above my quickening pulse in time to the play of his fingers. Through the haze, I saw that I had a chance to turn the tables. I ground my body against his and felt his back arch, immediately distracted.

  Men were so easy.

  I ran my nails, ever so lightly, over his skin. He took a deep breath and then, without warning, dropped to his knees, taking my jeans with him. He tried to peel them all the way off, but couldn’t seem to get them off my ankles. I laughed and obliged, lifting one leg and then the other. He grinned, staring up at me, but then his expression changed.

  His eyes slowly tracked the scars I’d accumulated over the years: the surgical scar on the knee I’d shattered, the calcifications on my thighs from years of practice kicks, the stab wound on my stomach from the bastard I’d had no business dating, and the small mound of scar tissue above my left hip that I never talked about. He took stock of these and more, and then rose, the front of his body trailing against mine, and drew me to the bed as he swept the pillows from the headboard.

  I thought about protesting on their behalf, but it turned out we wouldn’t need them for quite a while, anyway.

  I lay in the dark, weighing my options. Jimmy was
fast asleep beside me, smothered in blankets, kicking off heat like a radiator. I hadn’t been able to do the same, too busy replaying the events of the last few days, trying and failing to make sense of it all.

  Mike and his band had reached out to me via e-mail a few days back, which came as a bit of a surprise; vampires weren’t notoriously tech-savvy—still reeling from the idea of horseless carriages, I guess. They claimed they’d gotten the ring from a Turkish peddler they met on tour, and had heard about frozen blood crystals from a nightclub owner in London who insisted they try it.

  Of course, I knew now that they’d planned to skip town without paying. I could only assume they’d had the same idea when they promised to make a deal with the Englishman. That’s how it went in my world, though; Freaks got cocky.

  Thing is, there’s always a bigger Kraken.

  Still, knowing all that wasn’t getting me anywhere. Nothing about the way things stood made sense. What did the kidnapper want with a briefcase that belonged to a billion-dollar company based out of Germany? What was in the case that was so valuable, and so dangerous, that it needed to be protected with magic and strapped to a nightmarish shapeshifter?

  I drifted, tossing and turning every few minutes, unable to get comfortable knowing my aunt was out there, right at that moment, being held against her will. Eventually, exhausted and frustrated, I sidled up next to Jimmy, burrowed my head in the slow curve of his neck, and went to sleep.

  Chapter 28

  Sneaking out the following morning proved easier than I’d expected; Jimmy was a heavy sleeper, and a bit of a snorer. Although—given the fact that he’d recently survived a magical curse, not to mention how much energy we’d exerted the night before—maybe he was simply too exhausted to rouse himself. Whichever the reason, I was glad for it.

  I didn’t want him getting involved.