Fate of Three, page 4
We spend the rest of the evening doing basic mission prep stuff. We research January and the known items he’s bought or sold that we’ve uncovered. Dennis finds Kate’s Facebook page which she deleted when she started working for January. I was dumb enough to think that recovering a deleted Facebook page was impossible but then, I’m just the magic guy.
“I feel a little weird about this now that I’ve met her,” I say, reading over Dennis’s shoulder.
Scott frowns at me from the other end of the couch. “I don’t remember you ever saying that about an informant before.”
“She’s different,” I murmur. They both groan and I can’t help but flush a little. “It doesn’t mean anything. She’s just not the type of amoral asshole trying to save their own skin that we’ve become accustomed to.”
“Get your head on straight, Santos,” Scott says gruffly. I know he means business when he’s using surnames like when we first knew each other. “She’s a mark just like any other mark. We protect her, be courteous, utilize her as intelligently as we can. But do not get attached.”
I think about those big, scared green eyes staring at me, trying to figure me out. There was no chance she didn’t want to bolt. But she kept talking to me…
“I know, “ I say, a little stiffly. “I’m not an amateur, you know.”
I see Scott and Dennis exchange a look like they don’t quite believe me and it rankles. I’m the one that’s supposed to be exchanging a look with Dennis about Scott. I’ll have to be on my best behavior and stop talking about the cute informant.
Though I would put down money that once Scott and Dennis deal with her, they won’t be any less fascinated than I am. Maybe more so. Not that Scott will give himself away. He never does.
We eat a late dinner with plenty of protein so we’re not too hungry when we go on our run. It would be nice if we were somewhere we could eat. But I don’t think New York will look very kindly on a couple dozen squirrel carcasses littering their favorite public park.
At two, we head out in human form. It’s New York after all, so there are still people around at two, even on a weekday. But we find a deserted spot where we can shift before running into the safe darkness of Central Park.
Of the three of us, I’m the only one that can trace my shifter line directly through my family, back several generations. My people have been jaguars in Costa Rica for a long time, whereas Dennis and Scott were born in America and their shifter line is more muddled up with humans. Some people in their families are shifters and some aren’t. It depends on how the genetics work out. Scott’s great grandfather came from Panama and he was a jaguar shifter. Dennis doesn’t even know where his shifter line originates from other than that his uncle is one.
Like me, they both managed to find a pride in their teen years but once we all ended up in Jaguar Force together we re-formed our own pride with Scott as alpha.
It’s weird when you find that pride formation that suddenly makes sense. As if all along there was this family out there just waiting for you. That’s how I feel about Scott and Dennis. Sometimes they drive me crazy, but in the end, we would all give our lives for each other without question.
All we’re really missing are mates...or a mate. I once explained the concept of a shared fated mate to Scott one night after a few drinks. He turned red and cleared his throat and got up to make himself another drink so I never mentioned it again. But it made me chuckle at him for the next few days. I’d never seen Scott blush before.
We have fun in the park that night. I don’t remember the last time all three of us ran around in the middle of a city; there’s a sense of mischief about it as we race each other and climb trees and climb around on the Alice in Wonderland statue. We drink at the big Bethseda fountain and even splash around in the water before giving chase again. We do see a few people who look mildly alarmed but also not like anybody who is going to report jaguars in Central Park to the authorities. They look like people who avoid authority.
At four in the morning, we head back. We’ll get a few hours of sleep. It wouldn’t be nearly enough for a normal person but we’re able to function really well on very little sleep. At this point, I’m not even sure if it’s because we’re spies or jaguar shifters. But either way, it works for us.
I pass out on top of the covers of the queen bed in the suite I’m sharing with Dennis (who totally snores). I feel satisfied and tired in the best way. It was nice to get out on a run with my guys and let our cats run free for a while.
That night I dream of Kate Bloom. I dream that she’s our shared fated mate and that we make love to her and she makes to love us. I dream that she’s a part of our team. I also have vague but arousing dreams of all four of us together in bed, naked and writhing together. When I wake up, I’m hard as a rock.
But that’s just a dream, I tell myself in the morning. No way Kate’s gonna go for that.
The next day in the late afternoon, the three of us are camped out in the Lexus near Kat’s Coffee in the village. It’s not our van. We have one waiting at a garage in Queens that we can use later. I feel like we’re too out in the open just sitting here in a car with untinted windows but then, nobody was following Kate that I could see. If she is saying no, however, there’s a very good chance somebody will be following her today. And that’s if she even shows up. Scott’s got a scope that can zoom in on all the tables in the window.
I check my phone for the hundredth time. It’s still a little early.
“We do have other options if she doesn’t show,” Dennis says.
I snort at that. It’s only the truth in the sense that there’s always some kind of other option. But we don’t have any other leads. All we could do is try to bait January again and get him out in the open. We don’t even know where he’s based. We do know about his mansion in Long Island. There’s always undercover gigs. We could get Dennis in there as his butler or something. Going in that way always takes forever. We really need somebody who’s already on the inside.
“Hey,” Dennis mutters, tilting his head as he squints down the tree-lined street. “Is that her in the red dress?”
I see her coming a block down and smile to myself. She’s wearing a deep red dress that hugs her curves and her hair is pinned up. She looks like some 1940’s bombshell as she strides down the sidewalk in her heels and glances around before going into Kat’s.
“Yeah. That’s her.” I look at Scott who’s watching her through the scope. He and Dennis were listening in when I met Kate at The Algonquin, but they never even got a good look at her.
“She’s a dish,” Scott says.
“I told you,” I say.
Dennis punches my shoulder. “Yeah yeah. Whatever. It’s a nice dress.”
“It’s a nice woman,” I mutter under my breath. From my seat in the back, I can’t see what’s happening well enough in the shop. “She get a table?”
“She’s getting a coffee,” Scott says like it’s the craziest thing he’s ever seen.
“Well, that makes sense,” I say. “If she’s supposed to be a customer.”
“But most marks wouldn’t bother to get a coffee,” Scott mutters. “They’d be too nervous. They’d just sit down and tap their feet. She’s sitting down...stirring her coffee…”
“No book?” I say.
“Wouldn’t I have mentioned whether she took out a book?” Scott huffs.
“Okay okay.”
“She’s just sitting there…” Scott heaves a sigh. He always gets impatient when people aren’t quite cooperating. He’s long ago forgotten what it’s like to be a civilian. He hasn’t been one since he was about eighteen. “She’s reaching into her bag… And she’s stopping again. C’moooon.”
I take a deep breath, drumming my hands on my knees.
“She looks like she’s thinking really deeply,” Scott says. “Which I guess is… Wait, which is yes and which is no?”
I sit up with a jerk. “Gatsby is a yes, Catcher is a no.”
“Well, well, well,” Scott says. “Fitzgerald is on the table. She’s just sitting there sipping her coffee and staring at it.”
“I knew it,” I say, biting back a smile.
“Go make contact then,” Scotts says. His voice sounds strange. I think he’s either genuinely surprised or surprised that he’s not too surprised.
I hop out of the car. This time I’m not wearing the charcoal suit. Kate’s ‘yes’ means that I’ll be posing as her boyfriend, which hopefully won’t really come up. At least not for a while. So, I’m casual today in dark jeans and a sweater. I go inside and see Kate look over at me as the bell jingles over the door. I nod hello and grin and I’m a little surprised when she smiles softly and then looks down at her book, sipping her coffee. I order myself a chai latte and sit across from her. The guys will be driving back to the hotel now and we’ll be meeting up with them.
“Good book?” I say.
“Yeah, well… I never could say no to Fitzgerald.” She has a look of resolution on her face. Relief too, I think. “Wow. I actually feel better. I mean I’m terrified but I also feel better. Is that weird?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I think that makes perfect sense.”
“What happens now?” she says. She’s fidgeting with a napkin, shredding it up. I suddenly smell magic on her. I didn’t get it from her before, though that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.
“Now, I’m your boyfriend,” I say, smiling slyly.
“Oh, really?” She says, seeming a little wary.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding. I take a quick survey of the place again and look outside. Nobody of note. But we’ll still be careful. “Especially if we run into anyone from work. Though it’s not in our plans so far.”
“What is in the plan so far?”
“You come down to our hotel,” I say slowly. “Hang out with me and my friends and we talk about things. You didn’t tell anyone about our date yesterday or today?”
“Of course not,” she says firmly. “So should we go?”
“Let’s finish our coffee first, huh?” I smile, casual and easy. She seems to relax a little bit. This certainly isn’t how Scott plays it. He’s always emphasizing how important everything is and how matter of life and death every mission is when he talks to informants. I happen to think that kind of pressure only makes them stiffen up and get more freaked out. I much prefer to put them at ease if at all possible. “So, Hitchcock, huh?”
Kate blinks at me, looking confused. “Sorry?”
“Oh, you like Hitchcock a lot.” I blush just a little bit. I’m sure she would no longer be surprised by the idea that I know a creepy amount about her, especially after Dennis got a hold of her Facebook page but still. “According to our research. Although The Lady Eve is your favorite movie. Strange choice.”
Kate makes a startled little chirp of a noise and says, “It’s a great movie! Have you seen it?”
“No. It’s like an old screwball comedy, right?”
“Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda,” Kate says. “It’s great. It’s a classic. You should see it. What’s your favorite movie?”
I shrug at that. I don’t think I’ve thought about a question like that in fifteen years and I sit back, stroking my chin. I’ve even come up with favorite books or movies for people I was pretending to be on missions, but never for myself. There’s no reason to really get to know Kate and it might be better if I didn’t.
But on the other hand, Scott and Dennis drove away. For the few minutes we have while we finish our coffee before we head off to the hotel, we can at least talk like normal people
“I mostly just watch movies on planes,” I say, frowning. I don’t remember the last time I went to a theater except for once when we had to chase a vampire through a theater, but that wasn’t really ‘going to the movies’. “Or in hotel rooms. I guess maybe The Dark Knight? That’s one of my favorites. I liked all those, even the last one that everyone hated.”
“You walked around doing Bane all the time, didn’t you?” she says wryly.
“Of course, I did.”
She takes a long swig of her coffee and says, “So, do it now.”
“Absolutely not. I need you to respect me.”
She laughs at that. It’s a genuine laugh. She even throws back her head a little and her mouth is open just enough that I notice her cute overbite. I love an overbite on a woman. I don’t know why.
“I have another question,” Kate says seriously.
Without moving a muscle, I take another quick look around the place in case she’s about to ask something sensitive. I’d rather things like that come up in the hotel room though. Plus, Dennis hasn’t swept her for bugs and as good a time as we’re having together and as much as I’d like to keep her relaxed after making such an important and dangerous decision, there is a protocol to follow.
“Have you read The Great Gatsby?”
“Oh.” I chuckle at that, dropping my shoulders a little. “I think in high school? I do read though.” I feel just a little defensive about it. This work keeps us busy but there is a lot of sitting around waiting too. I usually have a book in my hand once I’ve gone over the dossier for the third time. “Mostly non-fiction. I like true crime a lot...”
“I love true crime!” Kate says, her eyes lighting up. Her hand covers mine on the table and she seems to think better of it and pulls away, her cheeks a little pink.
Suddenly this really does feel like a date.
I think of Scott telling me to get my shit together. I don’t think it’s going to be easy around her.
Scott
I was starting to wonder if there was something seriously wrong with Miguel. Of the three of us, I guess he is the most touchy-feely. But he’s always been as professional as I am and able to look out for an informant without getting attacked, and we’ve dealt with attractive women as informants a couple of times before. I couldn’t imagine what was different this time.
Then I saw Kate.
I’m not saying it was love at first sight or anything ridiculous like that. I wouldn’t put any kind of weight on it at all even. But I did have that zing moment as if somebody hit me over the head with a block of wood. I got a weird feeling again too, as if she must be important to us. On the upside, I’m pretty good at compartmentalizing. I put that feeling away, in a box that I taped the box shut and then I put the box on a shelf at the back of my mind.
I’m blaming that damn red dress if anything.
Dennis and I head back to the hotel to wait for Miguel and Kate. They should be here shortly. My suite adjoins Dennis and Miguel’s suite and we usually hang out in their room.
We’re not always very neat about things either.
“This place is a pigsty,” I shout as if yelling at the mess itself.
Dennis plops down on the couch and puts his booted feet up on the coffee table, his laptop in his lap, a can of Pringles leaning against his leg and a can of Monster at the ready. That’s pretty much default Dennis but now he watches, seemingly baffled, as I throw out empty take-out boxes, soda cans, and beer bottles. I put away anything that doesn’t need to be out. At least there’s not much paperwork anymore. Everything is digitized.
“You’re cleaning up for her,” Dennis points out, smirking.
“I’m being polite,” I say, growling just a little bit.
“Okay.”
“I’m being polite.”
“Where are they?” Dennis checks his phone. “They should have been coming right behind us in a cab.”
“I’m sure they’re on their way,” I mutter, making my way to the bathroom.
I am not checking my hair for the girl. I’m just looking at the beard scruff I’ve managed to grow out so far. It’s for my role as a thug working for January. He’s hopefully going to hire me. At least, that’s the plan.
But we’ll get to that.
I’m feeling kind of restless. Although that run in the park last night did do us a lot of good. I guess I’m always a little edgy at the beginning of a mission before the action really kicks in.
It’s kind of like foreplay.
Dennis has a hole in his sock and I tell him to change them. He freezes, one hand holding a Pringle halfway to his mouth, and looks up at me.
Finally, he says, “What exactly does me having a hole in my sock have to do with this chick being a good informant or us doing our jobs competently?”
“Making a good impression isn’t actually against protocol, Dennis,” I grumble. “Throw those out and put on a decent pair of socks, would ya?”
Dennis makes an inordinate fuss as he gets up and follows my orders. We should probably order lunch while she’s here. She wouldn’t have eaten and we haven’t eaten properly yet either. I wonder if this woman will be a tight ass. To a certain extent, a tight ass is good for a mission. They follow the rules. On the other hand, a tight ass can be terrible too. They can’t improvise. They’re also not much fun to hang out with, not that it’s relevant per se. But being able to talk to your informant casually is good for morale if nothing else. I can’t tell yet with Kate. Her opening conversation with Miguel wasn’t enough to go on.
That dress though…
Miguel and Kate finally arrive and I guess they didn’t take too long, assuming they stuck around to finish their coffee and there was probably some traffic. When they walk in, I’m at the suite’s wet bar, drinking water. I don’t much react. But that’s only because I’m trained not to react if I don’t particularly feel like it.
Her pictures didn’t do her justice and neither did my view of her walking down the street from too far away. She’s gorgeous. Not in that supermodel way or anything. She reminds me more of some old movie type, especially that dark red dress that swings when she walks and has a heart neckline and little black heart buttons. She has one dark curl that keeps falling over her eye.
But I don’t react to any of that. I just say, “I’m Scott Morales, the mission leader for Jaguar Force.”
