Despite my better judgment, I started to like Agent Booth.
Chapter Nineteen
I took a sip of my coffee and gagged. They called this gourmet? More like Gut Rot Blend, perfectly in sync with the café. Not much of a surprise given its location in the rough downtown Vancouver sector. But this place provided a perfect cover for observing the SRD headquarters.
Outside, the weather offered little to help brighten the coffee shop. Sporadic rays of light filtered through the dense gray cloud cover. An onslaught of rain slicked the sidewalk and a bone-numbing wind chilled the air. A perfect day to stay in bed and read a book.
But I’m here.
Suzy’s Gourmet Café provided a warmer and slightly better smelling environment than the convenience store beside it, the only other option where I could stand out of the downpour and wait for Angie. Staring out the window wouldn’t raise any suspicions here.
The anti-government, anti-shower, anti-everything patrons were too busy discussing their obscure views on philosophy to notice anything as insignificant as me. I’d just appear as another coffee enthusiast, chugging back the gut rot like it provided sustenance. If someone asked me to debate Chomsky though, I was screwed.
Angie, or Angelica as I found out earlier, was working late. I planned to follow the Wereleopard to see if she would lead me to the owner of the scent I discovered at Landen’s apartment.
Angelica? I snorted into my cup. How pretentious was that? When I addressed her as Angie, she’d been quick to correct me—her lips curling into a sneer told me she didn’t like the nickname. I ignored her request, kept using the abbreviation and enjoyed watching her left eye twitch.
I grabbed the nearest newspaper and flipped it open with a sigh. The first article on the page fumed about humans stealing cucumbers. What next?
The paper crinkled when I folded it up and chucked it on the counter as far away from me as possible. I went back to staring at the front doors of the SRD headquarters. Maybe if I glared hard enough, I’d develop some psionic mind control and force Angie to come out to play. Personally, I’d rather watch amateur ball hockey.
“You’re drinking the coffee from here?”
The familiar voice made me jump. Coffee leaked out of the lid and splashed on my hands and shoes. I turned to glare at Clint, Mr. Un-killable.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
Clint’s massive shoulders straightened. Without a word, he held up a metallic device. After squinting at the blinking red dot on the screen of his smart phone, I realized he used a tracking app. My arm itched.
“Checking up on me?”
Clint’s slow smile spread wider. “I like to keep tabs on my pets.” He reached out to stroke my face, but I dodged his hand, hearing my old sensei bark out instructions, slip and counter. Could I get away with punching Clint in the gut? Hmmm.
“I’m not your pet,” I said.
“Not yet.”
“Look, I’m sorry about tearing out your throat, but I thought I was following orders. I’ll find out who set me up and you can find your next pet elsewhere.”
A couple of café patrons turned and stared. Maybe I should drop the volume a bit. The sleazy man who huddled in the corner of the café looked at me in disgust.
“What a shame. You would look delicious in a collar.” Clint leaned in and wriggled his eyebrows.
The laugh was out before I could stop it. “I would make a terrible pet. I’d be the kind to pee on your carpet and rake my claws down your face.”
Clint chuckled. “Your defiance is enticing.”
Ugh. Remembering his preference, I said, “I don’t do rough.”
“I can be gentle.”
“Really?” My tone came out skeptical, which I intended, but why did I feel relieved? I still had five days. “Not buying it.”
Clint frowned and took a moment to think about it. “Well, no. Not really. But I could try.”
“How long has it been since you last tried?” The front of the SRD building started to blur, telling me I’d been staring at it too long.
“About fifty years.”
“And how’d that go?”
“Not so well.”
“Figures.”
Instead of leaving me to the job I had to do, Clint pulled out a chair and sat down beside me. He stared out the window with a pensive look on his face as if trying to figure out what I’d glared at.
In an almost amicable silence, we watched the outside world go by before curiosity got the best of me. “How’d you become a human servant to a male Vampire anyway? You like blonde bimbos.”
“Being a human servant doesn’t have to be a sexual relationship,” he explained.