Of Daggers and Dreamers

Chapter 3

3

At 3:01 AM, Kai pulled to the curb half a block down from the night drop at the bank. Turning off the stereo, he waited, and he watched. Maya, with the locked bank bag in her purse, approached the machine. The corner was lit, and he knew the bank had cameras outside. The city owned eyes across the street. Kai aimed his gift toward Maya. She had an earbud in one ear. It had been a good night at the club, and tips filled an envelope in her purse. In less than a minute, she dropped the bag inside the bank machine and walked around the corner. He knew where she lived and would follow to make sure she arrived safely. If she found out, she would give him hell. She knew how to take care of herself, but regardless, she was one of his, and he watched out for his own.

Kai had just put the car in gear when a black limo pulled up to the bank. The driver got out, rounded the front of the vehicle, and went to the teller machine. Taking what looked like his wallet from an inside pocket of his jacket, he inserted a card into the ATM. No money was dispensed. Kai narrowed his gaze. A moment later, the driver returned to the limo, and he watched as it drove past. When he tried to see inside the back window, the same disruptive vibration he’d noticed at the restaurant emanated from behind the black-tinted glass. He looked in his side mirror and read the license plate. NVRT5.

Pulling away from the curb, he drove by the bank, did a U-turn, then parked where the limo had been. Taking his wallet from his back pocket, he pulled out his card for the business account. Punching in his PIN, he requested a deposit slip. He raised a brow at the amount. The club indeed had a profitable night. Then he requested a withdrawal receipt.

“Son of a b***h,” he muttered.

$6,660 had been syphoned, according to the time stamp, two minutes after the deposit.

Stuffing the card and his receipts into his wallet, he returned to his car. He started the engine, then took a moment to think. No telling where the limo had gone, but he had the plate. Putting the Dodge into drive, he turned right. Two blocks down, he saw Maya jog up the steps to her apartment building. By the time he rolled past, the foyer door was closed and a light in the first-floor apartment had turned on. Using his gift, he searched her place. Nothing malevolent.

Returning to his loft, he parked the car in his assigned spot, the view seeming different from that of the saddle of his Harley. He got out, set the alarm with a press of a button on his keyring, then headed toward the elevators. No trace remained in the car or the hallway outside his loft from the earlier surprise activity.

Approaching his door, he saw his tell was gone, but Mason had left his own—a few dark brown hairs wedged between the door and the doorframe above the top hinge. Unlocking the door, Kai said, “Lights on.”

Spots of soft light brightened the loft. Glancing to the left, a corner of his mouth lifted at the empty beer bottle on the counter. Mason’s payment for dealing with a ruined mattress. Moving to the right, he stepped into his bedroom and smiled at the new bed. He shucked his jacket and tossed it on the chair in the corner.

Returning to the kitchen, he opened a drawer and removed a jar of salt and a smudge stick. From the next drawer, he took another jar and set it on the counter. Pulling his amulet from underneath his shirt, he held it in one hand, closed his eyes, and breathed deep. Words of gratitude, a request for assistance, and an invocation for protection came easily and flowed from his tongue. Holding the smudge, he lit the end with a lighter, then blew on it until smoke wafted up. Words of blessings and protection were spoken at each window and door, then he lay the smudge on the grate in the fireplace. He sprinkled salt on each threshold. From the jar, he tipped a small amount of herbs into the palm of his hand, then dropped the herbs over the smoldering smudge stick. He watched for a moment as it burned, scenting the loft with rosemary and lavender.

Replacing the remaining items in the drawer, he said, “Lights off,” then entered in the partial darkness to his bedroom.

Removing his holster, he took out his gun and set it on the nightstand. He pulled off his boots, then stripped before walking into the bathroom. Wearing only the amulet, he turned on the shower, then looked at the mirror as he waited for the hot water. His gaze flicked over the scars on his body. Each one had a story, tales he wouldn’t volunteer to share, but neither were they easy to forget. His shoulder-length dark hair matched the scruff on his jaw. He kept in shape, more out of habit than necessity the past eight years, with the exception of jobs he sometimes helped his friends with. He supposed he should be thankful for that, as Sabrina said he would need to rely on his skill and his knowledge.

When the mirror started to fog, he stepped under the spray, making quick work of washing away the energy from the night’s events, then he cranked off the water. Grabbing a towel, he dried himself, realized he hadn’t eaten, but was too tired to care. He turned off the light and moved the few feet to his new bed. After a brief pause, he grabbed the cover and flipped it down. Nothing. A sigh of relief proceeded his graceful face plant into this new pillow.

His body was exhausted, and his mind followed easily into that space right before sleep. He set aside what he’d learned, what he would need to do tomorrow, or later today, since it was just before the ass c***k of dawn. A moment before he released his hold on consciousness, a small yellow flame flashed in the darkness behind his closed lids.

From years of training and practice, Kai didn’t slowly surface to consciousness from sleep. He woke from one heartbeat to the next. The following few moments were taken to scan his physical body and then his surroundings. He did all this without moving or opening his eyes. His bed felt different. A quiet rattle from the floor had him turning over and grabbing his gun from the nightstand, then aiming it in the direction of the noise, all in one fluid movement.

“s**t,” he grumbled, as he lowered his weapon.

Shoving his free hand through his hair, he got off the bed and dug through the clothes on the floor, finding the pocket of his jeans that held his ringing cell phone. 9:00 AM flashed on his screen. The caller was the only person who would dare contact him before noon without a concern of bodily harm. He touched the screen and held the phone to his ear.

“You better have a damn good reason—” Kai began.

“And good morning to you, too,” Mason cut in. “The sun is shining on this chilly October day, and the birds are singing… somewhere—”

“Kiss my—”

“So, the new crib not working out? It’s top of the line. Even splurged for 800 thread count. The sales lady, Clara, was quite helpful. And interesting. And gorgeous. And she happens to be free tonight. You busy?”

Kai had walked from his bedroom to the kitchen where he measured coffee, poured water, and pressed the “Brew” button. Having c****d his head to his shoulder to hold the phone, he straightened, shifted the device to his other ear, and opened the fridge. He couldn’t imagine what event would take place in his life that he would have more in this appliance than beer, a container of juice, and bottles of water on the shelves, plus a few condiments in the door. Without opening the freezer, he knew that his ice bin would be full, thanks to the automatic ice maker, and the only thing on the shelf was a bag of peas he didn’t plan on eating because they had been thawed and refrozen numerous times to aid the healing process when he spared with Mason and the guy got lucky. Registering the blast of cold on his bare skin, he shut the door and eyed the coffee machine.

“Tonight? It’s Saturday. I’ll be at the club.” Kai opened a cabinet door and took out a mug. Pouring the two inches of black liquid from the pot that hadn’t finished brewing, he returned the carafe and took a swallow of the too hot coffee. “And thanks. For the new bed and the sheets.” He walked with his mug and phone back to the bedroom. “And if Clara is gorgeous, why aren’t you going out with her?”

“It’s only week three with Natasha. I figure I’ve got one more to go before she starts in with wanting to be serious and moving to the next step.”

Kai set his mug on the dresser and stepped into his closet to find a pair of clean jeans and a T-shirt. “Well, that will give Clara a week to think about you,” he said, then tossed his clothes on the end of the bed. “And thanks, again, for taking care of that for me. I owe you.”

All teasing dropped from Mason’s tone. “Then you can start by telling me what the hell happened. Some chick come at you with a machete?”

Kai exhaled as he considered what would have happened had he been home unexpectedly when his vandal came for her visit. “Not me, exactly,” he said, thinking of the chicken. “Meet me at the D&O in thirty?”

Mason hesitated. He and Kai had been friends since childhood. There wasn’t much one didn’t know about the other, and they always watched each other’s six, long before their time in the military.

“You cool?” Mason asked.

“Yep. In thirty?”

“Sure,” Mason said, then disconnected.

Kai tossed his phone on the bed. Turing toward the bathroom, he snagged his coffee. He drained the strong brew while waiting for the hot water, then set the mug on the counter by the sink. The number of people he trusted enough to share what had happened last night, and the information he’d gotten from Sabrina, were the same as the digits on his hand. Mason knew him better than anyone, but that didn’t mean Kai wouldn’t make the strong suggestion that Mason stay back and accept Kai’s protection. And because he knew Mason, he knew how his friend would respond.

Twenty minutes later, Kai stepped into the elevator at the end of the hallway outside his loft door. The Down & Out Café occupied the ground floor of an office building at the end of the block. No need to take the car, not that he would be able to find street parking on a Saturday morning. He squinted at the sun, high enough in the sky to not be blocked by skyscrapers and sitting in the middle of lots of blue. Having traded his bike jacket for a hoodie, he’d zipped it halfway up to cover his firearm. As he approached the front doors to Down & Out, a black limo drove past.

Kai paused, his hand on the door. No vibration coming from the back window of the vehicle. He stared at the license plate. ESCRT3. It belonged to the fleet of Vancouver’s luxury car rentals. They carried high-end clientele like celebrities and government officials. Kai pulled open the door, waited for three teenage girls to exit, smiled at them as they stared at him and giggled, then stepped inside.

Mason McCormick, with dark brown hair that curled at the ends, dark eyes that missed nothing, a wide jaw covered by a close-cropped beard, and heavily muscled chest and arms had already arrived and sat with a second cup of coffee on the table. Their usual place was in the corner, six feet from the end of the track lighting and across from the windows, so darker than the rest of the café, and wedged between the far side of the stage used for open mic and the end of the counter where the coffee grinder sat between the back door and the ice machine. If they chose, they wouldn’t be seen or heard.

Mason’s dark gaze tracked Kai across the crowded café. With his trained eye, he could tell his friend was carrying. So, whatever happened to his bed, or perhaps in it, had him spooked. He knew of Kai’s gift and was sure his friend used it, as he often did without much effort or thought. Mason had his own, if less on demand than Kai’s, and he would see what he could “see”.

Kai took the wooden chair across from Mason and raised a brow as his gaze flicked from knowing, intelligent eyes to the huge mug on the table not wrapped in two large hands, and back. At Mason’s nod of greeting, Kai picked up the cup and sipped, buying himself a moment he didn’t realize he needed. He glanced once at the three people in line on the other side of the café, then smiled as Kerry, one of the baristas, brought over a couple of plates that contained two breakfast sandwiches each. This was Mason’s way of apologizing for waking him up before noon, even if his friend worried about how the state of his bed had come to be. In between bites, Kai shared with Mason the events of the previous evening and his immediate plans for the day.

After the telling, Kai pushed his plate to the side and leaned his forearms on the table. “So, until I resolve this, I need you to be careful.”

Mason made a noncommittal noise. “I own a personal security company. You think I don’t know how to watch my ass?”

“This is more than the usual crazed fan or insane ex. She’s skilled. And Sabrina said this links to a previous life. I have no idea who this woman is, or was, or what happened that makes her want to exact serious revenge. I’ve got the club staff to worry about, Sabrina, you…”

Though Kai didn’t list the other names, Mason knew them. He, and four other capable men who served with Kai, trusted him, and never once blamed him for the clusterfuck of their last mission. It would take a single phone call, text, or email, and Kai Matthieus would have a personal army by his side the Devil himself would think twice about before engaging.

Mason fiddled with his coffee cup. “Your loft is wired for a security system, so let me install what just rolled out.” He leaned forward as Kai started to shake his head. “You won’t take a personal guard, not that anyone besides me could keep up with you, and I know you have your own ‘protection,’” he emphasized, “but let me add another layer. For my own peace of mind.”

Kai sighed. “Fine. Add it to my tab.”

A quick smile flashed on Mason’s face.

“Which I can transfer to the shared account. Perhaps I’ll transfer all of my business funds. She’s taken the last of my money.”

“It will tip her off that you know what she’s doing.”

“True, but I didn’t know the two events—the chicken and the withdrawals—existed, or were related, until last night. If I can’t track her with the plate, I know a good hacker.”

This time, they both smiled.

“Want company to the bank?” Mason asked as he stood.

Kai joined him, and they headed for the door. “You just want a ride in the Dodge.”

“Damn straight!”

They shared a laugh, and when Mason settled in stride next to Kai, he said, “I’ll take care of the gear at your loft and the run the plate. You take care of you.”

Kai nodded. They walked the rest of the way to the garage, trading possible dating scenarios involving Clara.

The downtown branch of First Bank was the only one that had safety deposit boxes. They were open from nine to noon on Saturday as a concession to those who worked the same nine to five, Monday through Friday, banking hours and couldn’t get in to take care of their financial business. It was a fifteen-minute drive from the Waterfront District to downtown.

Mason had produced a pair of shades, rolled down the window, then rested back against the seat. With the Rolling Stones playing through the speakers, and knowing Kai had to keep his attention on the traffic, and any limos within his line of sight, Mason closed his eyes.

His gift of precognition had served his Unit well in the hot zones around the world. It also proved helpful in the private security business. On most jobs, he had a vision such as where the shooter would be in the crowd, where hate, or love, mail had been sent from, or the real incident that caused people to contact him about his services. Once he had the information, he waited until reality matched the precog vision, and then he acted. His visions never told him the when, only the where and the how. After the threat was neutralized, the why could be finessed from the perpetrator. Through all the years that he’d used his talent, and as accurate as it always was, he had never been able to call it up at will. He had, however, devised ways to make it easier for the visions to happen should his gift decide to grant him what he wanted.

After five minutes of driving and not talking, Kai asked, “You get anything?”

Mason huffed out a laugh. “Nothing gets by you.”

“Not true. Twelve weeks of syphoning six large got by me. As did the chicken murderer.”

This time, Mason sighed. “No. Not yet. Sometimes I think the suggestion has to float around for a while, as if the Fates, or whoever, is deciding what to show me.”

“And the Fates, or whoever, decided to keep you in the dark last month? About Meghan?”

Mason glanced at Kai, then turned to look out the open window. His thumb idly rubbed the fresh scar on his chin. “It seems to concentrate on life and death situations. Not stupidity.”

“Ah,” Kai said, accelerating from a signal light and actually shifting into third, “they say awareness is the first step.”

He smiled at Mason’s suggestion about what he could do with himself.