The Victorious Redemption Complete Series Boxed Set, page 37
Jasmine wished she found it as funny as he did. As she turned to the others, she found they were already up on their feet, heading to the door.
Kendrick held the door open as Jasmine slipped out past him. “You do look nice.”
Jasmine scoffed in disbelief, a little caught off-guard by his comment. “Thanks.”
He blushed deeper.
Doug took the driver’s seat and Kendrick sat in the passenger seat beside him. In the back, Delilah handed Jasmine a bundle of clothes with a knowing look. “Don’t worry. I’ve also got to get changed. We’re not stealing you for a strip show.”
Jasmine undressed in the shadows and kept an eye on the rearview mirror to make sure the men didn’t sneak a peek while she slipped into her outfit.
It was comfortable and fit her perfectly. She wondered how the Weres knew her fit. After she’d secured and fastened her final button, she saw Delilah was dressed similarly.
“So you know what the plan is?” Delilah asked.
Jasmine shook her head. “Ish. Not really.”
Delilah rolled her eyes. “Grayback is slipping. It’s simple. I’m going to be acting as hostess and covering the door. You’re going to be a waitress and provide spot protection for the ally and the asset he is meeting with. Doug and Kendrick are going to be keeping a perimeter around the woods and the road, ensuring that nobody slips in unnoticed and that everything goes smoothly. If things go sideways, we’ll contact your grandmother and inform her that we need an extraction. She’ll be there within a minute in her truck and can take them on the forest ranger track to escape.”
Jasmine repeated the plan. “Watch over the pair, ensure that no one attacks. Seems simple enough.”
Delilah replied, “These things rarely are.”
Jasmine frowned as the city blurred around her.
“Is that how we’re supposed to contact grandmother?” She was looking at the devices fitted into Kendrick’s and Doug’s ears.
Delilah fished into her pocket and fitted hers before handing one to Jasmine. “These slip into your ears so you can hear what’s going on. They’re flesh-colored so we remain as inconspicuous as possible. These are so we can keep in contact with each other.” She handed Jasmine a wrist radio.
Jasmine scoffed. “Have I accidentally stepped in to work with the Secret Service?”
Delilah shrugged. “Think what you want. Just focus on the job, okay?”
“It’s impressive.” Jasmine held up the ear bud.
Kendrick turned and looked over his shoulder. “You think that’s impressive? Think about how hard it was to adjust and calibrate those earbuds for wolf ears.”
Jasmine noticed that the pair in the front didn’t have any equipment.
Doug shook his head. “I’m still not sure I don’t have permanent hearing damage from the last op. Note to self, don’t accidentally flick the volume to max.”
Delilah laughed. “That’s you getting old, Doug.”
Doug grinned when he teased. “Don’t make me come back there.”
“And hit me with your walker?” Delilah retorted. They all laughed at that.
The journey went fast. For the most part, Jasmine sat and listened to the banter and quips between the Weres. She was nervous and wondered what lay ahead, although she felt more confident knowing she was with trained Weres who had done this before and trusted her to take part in their plan.
Soon they reached The Meat Shack, and Doug parked the van in the back. Doug and Kendrick wasted no time shifting into their wolf pelts. Delilah crouched to fit the wolves with collars and earpieces that looked like bigger versions of the wrist radio Jasmine wore.
“Keep a keen eye out,” Delilah instructed them. “This has to go well.”
Doug and Kendrick grinned wolfishly at each other and dashed off into the trees in opposite directions.
The restaurant was large, composed mostly of wooden walls and flooring. A river ran nearby, and its gentle chuckle filled the air. Fairy lights lined the entrance and garden terrace at the back.
It was a pretty establishment that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a fantasy movie. It had a magical quality to it. Jasmine had never been here, but she made a note to visit as a patron in the future.
They entered the building with Jasmine following Delilah in step. She waved at the others already inside the building and introduced Jasmine to Carlos, the chef, and Louisa, the bartender. Jasmine didn’t recognize either of them, but the Were pack had planted them. They acted as if this were par for the course.
They reached the back room, and Jasmine whispered to Delilah, “Are they okay? How can you trust them?”
Delilah replied, “The pack has scented them. The pack considers them trustworthy enough to hire for assistance for such tasks. Trust the pack, and they may trust you in the end. Big jobs, small jobs, whatever it takes.”
She leaned in conspiratorially to Jasmine. “I mean, try to find someone to cater a first change party and keep their shit together when the howling starts.” She winked at Jasmine.
Jasmine frowned, once again struck by how little she understood of Were culture. She had spent her first change locked in a bedroom while her mother ensured that Jasmine caused as little damage as possible. She had discovered later that her mother had paid her neighbors to have a party loud enough to cover the noise of Jasmine’s destruction. A first change party surrounded by Weres, not hidden away, celebrated instead… That was something that Jasmine could get behind.
It’s too late for you, princess.
She followed Delilah, and they set up the space. Each participant in tonight’s ruse played their part perfectly. While Jasmine waited by the kitchen door for the guests to arrive, she prepared to put on a beaming smile and attend to the guests’ every whim.
She had done this sort of thing before when she was a journalist. She had sometimes played different roles to work her way into the places where her typical personality would not. She could do this. She would do this. Because tonight mattered for her, for the pack, and for restoring what Deshawne had stolen of her life.
A bell rang to announce the arrival of the pack’s ally, a beaming man with blond hair neatly spiked at the front. He wore a crisp white suit.
Jasmine hardly saw him. She was stunned by the gentleman walking a few steps behind him.
She could recognize him anywhere; the stride, the smell, the cocky grin on his face.
Jasmine’s fists clenched as Deshawne Pierce strolled into The Meat Shack.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Surprises
Deshawne Pierce.
Rage descended over Jasmine. Her fingers clenched at her side, and she ground her teeth. The little color left in her face drained.
Deshawne Pierce.
Memories of the morning they had spent together flooded back to her. She recalled waking up alone in his apartment, Deshawne walking in with a coffee and the revolver he fired at her several times.
Falling, falling, falling.
Awakening.
Jasmine’s nostrils flared as she tried to process the situation. A dull pain throbbed in her stomach and chest.
The throbbing grew to a molten heat. Jasmine clutched her stomach. Her claws extended from her fingers without conscious thought.
Delilah drew closer to her. “Keep your shit together,” she warned. Delilah didn’t know the full extent of Jasmine’s hatred, but she could read the intent in Jasmine’s eyes.
Her earpiece crackled and hissed, and Jasmine’s grandmother spoke. “Pull it together, darling.”
Jasmine grunted. “This is fucking bullshit.”
“Maybe,” her grandmother replied. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got to keep it together. Now is not the time to fly off the handle.”
“The fuck I do,” Jasmine hissed into her wristwatch. “I’m going to rip his head off and eat his heart in front of his eyes. I want him to be alive and to watch the life drain from him as I take and destroy each part of him that remains.”
Her grandmother snapped, “No! You do that, and you’ll get another body full of silver. If you do manage to kill him, you’re going to lose so much more than you’ve bargained for.”
“Like what?” Jasmine returned as she ducked into the hallway leading to the back room for privacy.
“Like the pack and—”
“Fuck the pack!” Jasmine interjected.
“And any chance of fixing your condition,” her grandmother finished.
Jasmine froze. Deshawne was standing in the annex leading into the dining room. She looked at him through the glass, not understanding how this could be possible. Not only that the Weres had lured Deshawne into their domain for Jasmine, but also the idea that she could return to her former normality.
She had wondered whether she would be able to change back but had never dared to hope, and no one had ever confirmed it was a possibility. Could it be true? Is that what all of this would lead to? Jasmine reclaiming her life?
She growled, and her claws retracted as she composed herself. If what her grandmother told her was true, this was the way to go. As much as she wanted to see Deshawne torn to ribbons on the floor, she had to play the long game. There was much more to this than met the eye. Deshawne’s death would be satisfying in the short run, but Jasmine sensed that something larger was afoot.
She shook her head as Delilah greeted Deshawne and the ally at the door. She went back into the restaurant. “He’s going to recognize me.”
“No, he won’t,” her grandmother replied. “Pricks like Deshawne Pierce are too self-absorbed to pay much attention to the women they bed. And I don’t think you realize how much you’ve physically changed since he last saw you. You’re a different person now.”
Shivers ran down Jasmine’s spine as she remembered her first look at herself in her bathroom mirror. She had struggled to recognize herself after the change. It wasn’t only her hair color but the very structure of her face and body. The cops couldn’t identify her as the person they had spent the previous two weeks hunting for her body.
She sighed and resigned herself to her role of the dutiful waitress. Delilah guided the ally and Deshawne to their table.
“We’re going to have a long talk when this is over,” Jasmine muttered.
A small laugh sounded on the other end of the line. “That’s my girl.”
Deshawne and the ally shrugged off their jackets and took their seats at the table in the empty restaurant. Jasmine approached the table to put down menus. She stood between the pair with a pen and notepad in her hand. “Can I start you boys off with any drinks?” She added a slight accent to her voice to further disguise herself.
Every cell tensed as Deshawne’s cologne invaded her nostrils. It was the same smell that had enchanted her, and now it took her instantly back to their hot and sweaty night. She swallowed dryly. Anger boiled her insides. She was only a foot from him, and it would be so easy to draw her claws and spike him through his skull. End it all now.
Jasmine chewed her lip. She was surprised to find that her grandmother was right—Deshawne wasn’t interested in looking at her. He was too distracted by Delilah’s ass as she disappeared into the back.
I don’t know whether to be relieved or insulted. A faint tremor ran through her hand as she poised her pen to take their order.
“Whiskey for me,” the ally stated.
Deshawne closed his drink menu. “Make that two.”
He turned to the ally. He still hadn’t looked at Jasmine.
She scribbled down the order and nodded.
When she reached the back room, Jasmine grabbed Delilah by the arm. “It’s Deshawne fucking Pierce!”
Delilah nodded. “I know.”
“You know?” Jasmine asked.
“Of course,” Delilah replied dryly.
“Shouldn’t we be eavesdropping?” Jasmine asked. “Hovering around, trying to get snippets of their conversation?”
Delilah waved it off. “That’s not our role, okay? We don’t need to worry about any of that. Remember, the ally is on our side. If any relevant information comes up, he’ll be the first to let us know.”
Jasmine ran her fingers through her hair and gave the drink order to the bartender. “What’s Deshawne doing meeting with some bureaucrat from the State Parks Department?”
Delilah dismissed her. “Forget about that. You play your part, I’ll play my part, and everything will go smoothly. We’re here for security, that’s it. Keep your shit together, keep your head on a swivel, and do as we’ve told you. If you can do that, this will go smoothly, and maybe you’ll get the answers you seek.”
Jasmine’s lip curled in a sneer as Delilah moved away. The bartender placed two drinks on the counter. With composed grace, Jasmine strode to the table and put the drinks down.
“One for you, sir.” She handed a drink to the ally.
“And one for you.” She felt a small victory in omitting the “sir” when addressing Deshawne. She put the drink down, and when she looked up she met Deshawne’s gaze. His ice blue eyes bored into her. They were magnetic and enchanting and were what had drawn her to him when she met him in the bar. They reminded her of Huskies or icebergs. Her heart froze. Time stretched into infinity as they stared at each other.
Jasmine’s skin broke out into goose flesh. This was it. She was about to get found out. The whole scheme would unravel in a blink of an eye.
Deshawne offered her a smile before he looked back at his menu. There was no indication he’d met Jasmine before.
Jasmine peeled herself away. She wondered if her grandmother was right in all of this. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be the best night to kill him. When she did kill him, she wanted him to know who his murderer was. She wanted to see that spark in his eyes as he recognized the damage he had inflicted upon an innocent woman.
The evening wore on in a typical fashion. Jasmine played her part. She took food orders and delivered the meals to their table. She was unsurprised when Deshawne chose the most expensive cut of steak he could.
She watched with Delilah from the back of the bar. While she attended to the guests’ needs as necessary, she wondered how Ivan made service look so easy. He was tuned into everyone’s wants and desires, whereas she had difficulty sensing when to go and ask whether the diners needed anything.
Delilah kept her steady, reminding Jasmine what they were there for. Whispers through the radio confirmed that the outdoor perimeter was secure. Everything was going to plan.
Is this what Were missions are like? Standing around as glorified bodyguards for people who didn’t give two shits about you?
The two men talked and laughed. On occasion they fell deep into conversation, and Jasmine wished she knew what they were talking about. She hoped she would get the full story and find out later when the ally spilled the beans to the Weres.
As the night darkened and the meal drew to a close, Jasmine took two empty dessert plates from the table and brought them to the back. Thoughts of the tongue-lashing she would give her grandmother for putting her in a situation like this without any warning filled her head. What was it with people who thought they could walk all over her and have her do their bidding?
She was returning through the service door into the main restaurant when someone hammered on the glass front door.
A short man stood on the other side of the glass. His hair was dripping wet, and his clothes were sodden and stuck to his body. He was cold, visibly shivering as he looked imploringly into the restaurant. He stumbled a little as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. His eyes were unfocused, as though he didn’t see anything in front of him.
Delilah straightened.
Two thoughts came to Jasmine. The first was admiration for a man who had managed to make it through their security detail. The second thought was to wonder what this man was on and how high he must be to try to enter an empty restaurant.
Jasmine moved to the door, but Delilah stopped her with a strong hand and strode to the glass. Deshawne and the ally offered only cursory glances.
“We’re closed,” Delilah informed the man at the door. “Private function.”
At first the man didn’t seem to notice her, but at the sound of her voice, his head swung in her direction. His gaze was unfocused.
A voice exploded in Jasmine’s ear, gruff and animalistic from a bestial throat. She recognized it as Doug’s. “Shit, they’re coming out of the river!”
Pots and pans clattered to the floor from the kitchen, and Jasmine heard shouts and sounds exploding. The commotion grew around her. She turned back to the front door as the soggy man revealed a sawed-off shotgun hidden within the folds of his clothes. He pointed it at Delilah and unloaded both barrels.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Saving
Glass rained down around Delilah as she folded to the floor. Her body lay still and lifeless. Jasmine’s face twisted into a mask of horror as she looked from the glittering carnage to the strange man holding the shotgun.
She coiled to spring at the man in the doorway, but two more men appeared from the shadows behind him. They had that same vapid look on their faces, and each one held a pistol in their hand. They pulled the triggers and blasted the glass front of the restaurant.
Jasmine ducked, looking for a place to hide. She crouched behind a nearby table. Deshawne flipped his table to create a makeshift shield.
Jasmine was looking out from her table, annoyed that her initial thought was to save Deshawne and the ally, when several shots slammed into her.
They broke through soft tissue, but none hit any vital organs. Jasmine shrugged off the small bursts of pain. She flipped her table and pressed her back to it. Deshawne drew a pistol and Jasmine clutched her chest. Her eyes widened until she realized it wasn’t the same revolver that had laced her body with silver bullets. It was a Ruger nine millimeter, matte black, in stark contrast to what she expected him to carry.
They met eyes for a moment, and Jasmine wondered if Deshawne had caught on to who she was. Had she imagined a flicker of recognition?
