For the Good of All (Law of the Lycans Book 7) (10 page)

“What’s the problem?”

Reno’s voice came through loud enough that she could hear his response. “The US government has an agent inside the cartel. We’ve intercepted one of his messages. He reported there were two fatalities today.”

“Any idea as to the identities?”

“Just that they were scientists.”

“And you’re thinking it was Paul Duffy and his wife since that was the cover they were using.”

“Yep. They were posing as scientists, members of the Cryptozoological Association, researching Mapinguari, a South American ‘bigfoot’. It’s a logical assumption the Duffys were the ones being referred to, though no names were given.”

“Well, keep checking. Do you still want me to proceed with the mission?”

“Definitely. The children, as far as we know, are still alive. We need to find them and bring them home.”

Stone sat up straight. “Whoa, now listen, Reno, I’m not good with kids.”

“What’s so hard about it? Find the pups, bring them back.”

“It’s not that simple. I’m going to need help on this one.”

“I thought you worked alone?”

“I do, but not if kids are involved. You can’t expect me to care for two kids by myself.”

Reno sighed loudly. “I’ll see what I can do but we’re moving ahead on this, keeping the initial timeline. The longer we wait, the greater the risk. You know that.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Stone ended the call and threw his phone on the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Tina crossed the room and sat beside him.

“The most recent intelligence report says that two of the people I was supposed to meet could already be dead.”

“Oh no. That’s awful.” Tina placed a comforting hand on his leg. “I heard you mention children?”

“Yeah.” Stone rubbed his hand over his face. “Two Lycan pups. Reno expects me to deal with them. What the hell do I know about kids?”

“Maybe you need someone to help you.”

“That’s what I told him.”

“I could go with you. I’d love to help and kids like me.” The words spilled from her before she even had time to think of all the ramifications.

“You?” Stone tugged on a stray lock of her hair. “Sweetheart, you’re as colourful as a rainbow. I need someone who will blend in. Thanks for the offer but I don’t—” His phone rang and he snatched it up.

Tina got to her feet and thoughtfully stared at her reflection in the mirror. Too colourful. Well that was an easy fix. She slipped out of the room and headed to the kitchen.

Some roots and herbs, a few basic ingredients along with the appropriate incantation and, voila, her hair would return to its natural colour. It was an easy spell, one of the few she had mastered and very useful with her current courses at school. Tina gave the concoction a final stir and blew it a kiss for good luck, then began to massage the mixture into her hair.

Her scalp began to tingle and for one panic stricken moment, she worried if she’d made a mistake when measuring the proportions. The spell might be basic but her skills were less than perfect. Lack of practice, Gwyneth would say dourly.

No, she’d done everything correctly. Grabbing a pan, she used it to see her reflection; Stone was between her and the bathroom mirror and there was no way she wanted him to see her if her hair was turning into something weird like ferns or snakes. Not that that was
really
possible, of course…or at least she hoped it wasn’t! The full extent of the power of witchcraft could never be measured.

She gave a sigh of relief when her reflection in the pan looked normal, distorted but normal. Two eyes, a nose, mouth, pale skin and…sigh…brown hair. Yep, her true self was back.

Briskly towelling her hair dry, she finger combed it into place, took a deep breath and went in search of Stone. He was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, studying the screen on his phone.

“Did Reno find anyone to help you?”

“No.” He didn’t look up. “I’m going through my list of contacts right now, trying to find someone to go with me but, dammit, everyone is out of the country.”

“I could go with you. I’m great with kids. They love me. Honest.”

“Nice of you to offer, Christina but like I said, you’re—” He looked up from the screen and paused mid-sentence.

She shoved her hands in the pockets of her robe and lifted her chin “I’m not too colourful anymore. Just plain old Tina.”

Stone rose to his feet and walked closer. She forced herself to not shuffle nervously as he took her by the shoulders and turned her left and then right.

“I didn’t know witches could change their hair colour so easily.” He fingered a lock.

She shrugged. “A simple but useful spell. Cheaper than hair dye and more environmentally friendly.”

He made a non-committal sound and took her chin, tilting her face upward so he was looking into her eyes. Having just performed a bit of magic, she knew they were likely showing hints of purple, a tell-tale sign witches had difficulty controlling.

Her face grew warm under his scrutiny and she finally gave an exasperated huff.

“I know I look different. Get over it.” She jerked her chin free of his grasp. “I didn’t do this for fun. You need someone to help you with those kids. I’m here. I look inconspicuously ordinary. You’re having no luck getting anyone to help you and it’s only a couple of hours until the flight leaves. Will you take me along or not?”

“No.”

“No? But—”

“This isn’t a game, Tina. I’m heading into the jungle, into what is essentially a war zone.”

“I know it’s not a game. I figured it was something serious, but—”

Stone silenced her with a look. “You’re a nice kid. We’ve had some great sex together.” He tugged on his shoes and found his coat. “If I’m ever back in Chicago I’ll look you up.”

Tina pressed her lips together and firmed her chin. She wouldn’t cry. He’d made no promises. Dammit, he’d called her a kid!

Pocketing his phone, he walked towards her. Mere inches away, he raised his hand and cupped her cheek. Stone seemed to study her face, then gave a ghost of a smile. “You look good without all the paint. Take care, Tina.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and left.

As the sound of the door shutting echoed through the room, Tina let her tense muscles relax. She looked at her bed, the covers still tangled from their activities and on autopilot began to straighten the sheets. Her hand paused on the pillow he’d used and, against her will, she picked it up.

It was just her imagination that she could still feel the warmth from him. And the scent of the soap he favoured barely lingered. One cycle in the laundry and it would be gone for good, just like him.

There were no photos, no ticket stubs, no silly presents. She didn’t even know his stupid first name! Seven days was all they’d had. Actually only seven nights. It was an insignificant amount of time in the expanse of her life so far.

Hell!

She threw the pillow on the bed. No way was she going to spend her time wallowing in misery over some guy she’d known for only a few days. So what if they’d had great sex, if he was ruggedly handsome and mysteriously fascinating. So what if she got hot and bothered just listening to him say her name. Life went on, right?

And speaking of life, she had a bunch of friends who wanted to live it up. A spring break vacation hadn’t been finalized last she’d heard so she’d just take the bull by the horns and plan something. She grabbed the newspaper from the bedside table and flipped to the Travel and Leisure section. An impromptu getaway was what she needed. Some place hot and sunny with handsome men rubbing lotion on her back as she lounged on the beach. She spread the paper on the bed, grabbed an earring from her dresser and tossed it like a coin. Whatever travel agency it landed on, that was the one she was calling first thing in the morning!

Chapter 4

Stone walked down the dusty street, noting the shacks made of corrugated tin and scrap wood squeezed in between more solid cement block buildings. Hand-painted signs announced the prices of goods for sale and shoppers perused open baskets of food, crated chickens, colourful t-shirts and handmade rugs. Bicycles wove between the pedestrians and beat-up old cars rattled down the road dipping into the potholes when they couldn’t be avoided.

Just a block from the ‘safe’ areas near the resorts, it was an entirely different atmosphere to what most foreigners would ever see. Rundown shops, second-rate products, stray dogs scrounging in the garbage that spilled from the alleys. The vendors pushed their wares and haggled over prices, their faces wizened from the sun and poor diet. Half-naked toddlers played at their feet while the older children begged for coins or attempted to steal carelessly guarded wallets.

Any tourists who wandered this far were in for a shock. Robbery, assault, abduction; all were possible fates for the unwary. And the chances of a thorough police investigation should the crime be reported, well, that was luck of the draw. Some cops were legit but just as many were having their pockets lined by crime. Yet what else could be expected when their salary was a pittance?

This, Stone thought, was why the small, equatorial countries were always in turmoil. Rampant poverty, corrupt police forces, no health care, no education. It was every man for himself with people easily swayed by anyone promising a bit of cash. Morals and ethics didn’t mean a hell of a lot when your family was starving or sick.

The sun beat down on him, burning through the protection of his light shirt and causing beads of sweat to trickle down the indent of his spine. A vendor tried to entice him to buy a bottle of water but he shook his head. Quite likely the water was contaminated, filled at a public well and then capped to be passed off as natural spring water. A fast track to dysentery, that’s what it was.

He paused by a shop, one step up from most on the street, and studied the shoes and cell phones that were displayed in the window. They were cheap knockoffs of designer labels but he stepped inside anyway.

The shadowed store felt cool compared to the heat outside even though there was only a rusty, old fan circulating the air. It clattered and wheezed from its position on top of a shelf near the register. After briefly perusing the goods, he picked up a watch, tried it on and then took it to the counter.

“Ah,
buena elección. El señor
has a good eye. This is a fine piece.” The clerk took the watch from him, prepared to ring up the sale.

“Well worth the price.” He used the code phrase and then tapped his fingers three times on the counter before sliding a folded bill across the wooden surface. “Do you have any others like it?”

The clerk had paused at the signal he’d given, glanced at the money and then at his face before giving a brief nod. “
Sí.
Of course. They are in the private viewing room out back. Would you care to take a look?”

“If it can be arranged right away. I have a train to catch in two hours.” Stone completed the conversational sequence that would grant him access to The Dealer.

“I’m sure it will be to your liking.” The clerk gestured towards a door near the back of the store. ‘Knock before entering.”

Stone inclined his head keeping his face impassive. Secret signals and passwords seemed over the top when the black market operated all but openly in the country. Oh well, if the cloak and dagger bit made The Dealer feel safer, it was no skin off his nose.

He followed the instructions and entered the shop that occupied the rear of the building. It looked like the front store except everything was real or a very high quality reproduction. He wasn’t interested in what was readily displayed though. His most important purchases would be items that were kept hidden from view.

After briefly scanning the room, he focused on a man sitting in a ratty reclining chair smoking a cigar.

“Señor Stone, isn’t it?” The man blew a smoke ring towards the ceiling. “
Oí que ibas a venir.
I heard you were coming.”

“Word does travel.” He wasn’t surprised. The mercenary world was strangely tight-knit considering they’d kill each other without a qualm if the job called for it. Certain information flowed freely while specific details were kept closely guarded. He was here. That was no secret. Why he was here, well, that was open to speculation. Not that The Dealer would care. As long as money exchanged hands, the man would be happy.

“What are you looking for?” The man rose to his feet with an effort. Lack of food wasn’t his problem as it was for many of the people in the neighbourhood. His shirt, a loud tropical print, stretched over the girth of his stomach and his thin, greasy hair was slicked to one side in an ineffectual effort to hide a large bald spot. For all that his outward appearance indicated a tendency towards sloth, the man’s eyes were sharp and assessing, giving hints of the keen mind behind the florid face.

Stone rattled off his requirements getting supplies for himself and whoever the partner was that Reno sent him. “Two backpacks, two hammocks, two mosquito nets, two water purification kits, four t-shirts sized extra-large…”

A young boy appeared seemingly out of nowhere and began to scurry around the room, locating the needed supplies as he said them. The list wasn’t extensive—bare minimum since they’d be carrying it on their backs—but a jungle trek required certain necessities.