Beasts and Burdens (33 page)

THE WARDEN

Magic and Mayhem

1

Gypsy leaned on the stucco pink wall, watching the cars pass with an attentive eye. She could smell the noxious Mexican food that permeated the street and ostensibly the whole fucking country. She had already smoked an entire pack of cigarettes trying to alleviate her olfactory sense with a different abuse, but apparently she hadn’t burned enough of her nose hairs to diminish the experience.

She knew it was important for Callin to get the allegiance of Mexico’s clans. Not just to help overthrow Frederique—which was now, a definitive outcome of their efforts, give or take a few loose ends—but also to make Leona’s rise to power uncontested. She also didn’t trust anyone else to handle Callin’s security, so she made the trip with him.

Still, she hated Mexico on principle.

Maybe it was the obnoxious bright colors that pretended to compensate for the rampant poverty. Or perhaps it was the cuisine that only redeemed itself after it escaped the borders. Better still, it was probably the endless potential threats lurking in the shadows. There were always a good number of bottom feeders poised to benefit from the hubbub of a parked limousine and private security.

Even now, she could sense movement in the alley across the way. So far, she couldn’t get a bead on the voyeur. She couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman, human or werewolf, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. She gestured that it was time to go through the large picture window beside her that was barely a window since the entire menu was painted on it. Callin barely glanced away from his dinner party, and nodded when she signaled that he should take the alley exit.

She repositioned and radioed for the driver to get closer to the alley and keep the engine running. He grunted a “yes, sir” and clicked off. She imagined that the men she led had originally intended to piss her off with the masculine designation, but frankly, as long as it started with yes, and ended with them doing what she said, they could call her sugar lips for all she cared.

They were very much under the mistaken impression that she was sleeping with their boss in order to get the privilege of leading such an esoteric operation. Little did they know, she hadn’t even met the mysterious benefactor. She had hoped someday to meet him, but had resigned herself to the Charlie’s Angels feel of her contracted employment. The money was good, and the work was helping to hone her skills, so she couldn’t really complain.

After another half hour, the heavy metal door leading from the restaurant kitchen into the alley opened and a small Mexican man stepped out to peek around the alley. He caught sight of her and his mouth dropped open slightly as he took in her hard-edged military style.

The only color on her was a silver crescent moon necklace. A
gift
from Frederique that she graciously accepted after their first face off. She had never gambled to wear the necklace in front of her, but now that the fem-wolf was blind, the risk was minimal.

The little Mexican man tucked back behind the door and said, “Si, si, una chica.”

Gypsy gripped her gun and stepped to one side to see around the door. Callin tipped the man generously, and he thanked him before scurrying back to his kitchen duties. She narrowed her eyes on Callin and waited for an explanation.

He stepped into the alley, making sure the door was properly latched before he turned around. He was only wearing blue jeans, and a white collared shirt, with a V-neck gray cardigan, but it could have easily been an Armanit suit, since he was never without his suave demeanor. “Well, ” he paused to place his money clip in his front pocket. “You can’t be too careful.”

She waggled her head. “I suppose, but it does present the appearance of mistrust.”

“Not at all. I trust you implicitly,” he said bowing his head slightly.

“But not with your life?”

He shrugged apologetically. “I appreciate that you are here to keep a watchful eye where I can’t, but…” He trailed off.

She crossed her arms. “Oh, please, go on. You won’t hurt my feelings. What few I actually have, aren’t usually wasted on other people’s opinions.”

His lips turned up slightly and he tipped his nose up almost imperceptibly to get a whiff of what she wasn’t revealing in her expression. His faint smile disappeared entirely.

“Must be the Mexican food,” she responded with a brow lift when his sense of smell didn’t offer him the interpretation he was seeking.

His smile returned even broader and he pursed his lips and nodded. “Alright, have it your way. Grace was it?”

“Call me Gypsy,” she said offering the borrowed nickname from Cori—or herself if she bought into the backstory.

“Gypsy,” he rolled the name off his tongue as if he was tasting it; or at least making a point to memorize it this time. Since she had intrigued him, she must have risen above the status of
no name guard
. “I find it amusing that you are still purporting to be my bodyguard, when it is obvious that anyone who could be a threat to me is clearly going to be a bigger threat to you.”

She frowned looking him over. His face softened and he raised his hands surrendering his insult. He opened his mouth to no doubt offer an apology for his machismo, albeit accurate, statement. Rather than let him waste her time groveling, because of a misunderstanding, she interrupted. “So, you don’t want me to take care of that red dot that’s trying to lock aim on your throat?”

“What?”

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