The Crystal Warriors Series Bundle Page 23

  Will pulled a small leather-bound notebook from the inside breast pocket of his jacket and held a silver pen poised to take notes.

  “Raymond Walker,” Jai said, for Will’s benefit. “Lives in an apartment on Taylor Street. 2B. Drives an old muscle car. Maybe a Camaro. Got it. Thanks, babe. See you and Marcus at class, okay? Kiss, kiss!”

  Will stopped scribbling, snapped his notebook shut, and stowed it back in his pocket. “I’ll pass this on to my cop buddy. He’ll have chat with your Mr. Walker, and keep an eye on him. Maybe do a few drive-bys, just in case Walker feels the desire to shift from nuisance pranks to something a little more serious.”

  Chalcey debated mentioning Ray’s liking for sharp objects. And her suspicions about his drug use. Aw, hell. Cop or not, she couldn’t in all conscience let Will’s friend confront Ray unprepared. “Tell your friend to watch himself. The first time I encountered Ray, he pulled a knife on my boyfriend. And I’m pretty sure he was high.” Boyfriend. It had a nice ring to it. Real nice.

  “Duly noted. Thanks for the heads up.”

  “God. Sorry about the drama. My life’s usually watching-paint-dry boring.”

  “No drama. Leave it with me. And I’ll send my guys around to deal with that—” he waved a hand at the graffiti “—this afternoon.”

  “Thanks. For everything.”

  Will shrugged. “No problem. It’s part and parcel of being a landlord. And I’ll see you at the studio. Sooner, rather than later, if my wife has anything to do with it.”

  Chalcey managed a smile. “Oh, go on. You’ll like it once you get into it, I promise.”

  “Hope you’re right.” He pressed a card into her hand. “Call me if you want an alarm installed, or if any of the comings and goings downstairs cause you any hassles.” He strode off down the pavement, heading for a shiny black SUV.

  She caught Jai eyeing his butt. “Quit drooling. He’s married, remember?”

  “Yeah. So you said. A man can dream, though, huh?”

  “Yeah. A man can dream.” She slung an arm about his shoulders. “C’mon, babelicious. I’ve got a bathroom to finish up and we’ve got routines to work on.”

  Unfortunately for Chalcey, the instant Wulf wandered from the bedroom into the studio, Jai decided to fill him in on Ray’s tagging efforts. Jai then compounded his multitudinous sins by dragging Wulf downstairs and show him Ray’s tag firsthand.

  “Did you have to tell him?” Chalcey grumped at Jai when he sauntered back into the studio.

  “Yep. Dude needs his ass whupped. And your kick-ass Wulf-man is just the guy to oblige him.”

  “Thanks for nothing.” She dared a glance at Wulf. His features were a blank, but his eyes…. They spat ice-blue fury. Jai had obviously explained the meaning behind the graffiti, too. In detail.

  “Hey.” She laid a hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. “Ray’s just being a dickhead. He imagines he has a thing for me and he’s pissed I’m not interested. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Do not be so sure, Chalcedony. This man appears a little obsessed by you.”

  “Shit, Jai.” Hands on hips, Chalcey glared at her dance partner. “What exactly did you say to him?”

  Jai didn’t appear at all repentant. “I only told him what he needed to know.”

  Great. Guaranteed, what she thought Wulf needed to know, and what Jai thought he needed to know, were at opposite ends of the spectrum. “Wulf. Listen to me. This is Ray, we’re talking about. And the phone calls, the tagging— It’s just pranks. Kids’ stuff.”

  “Phone calls?” Jai just had to ask.

  Wulf held Chalcey out at arms’ length. “There have been phone calls from Ray?”

  She scrunched up her face, searching for the best way to defuse this. “Uh, just a few hang-ups. Nothing drastic.”

  “Hang ups?”

  “Somebody rings, you answer and there’s silence, or heavy breathing, and then they disconnect. No biggie. Besides, I don’t even know for sure it is him.”

  Jai shook his head and clucked his tongue. “I’m glad the lovely Will is getting one of his cop buddies to keep an eye on this dude. Ray’s got issues with you, doll.”

  “Yes, well. I have issues with him, too. But because he’s hardly going to be allowed back in my studio, or Sam’s apartment, I’m unlikely to run into him again, am I?”

  “Guess not.”

  Wulf surprised her by gathering her into his arms and holding her so tightly that she squeaked. He buried his face in her neck, and the attraction between them flared, skimming Chalcey’s skin with the promise of pleasure.

  “If anything were to happen to you, Chalcedony….”

  She fought the insidious desire to melt into his arms, to let him take care of her and solve all her problems. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me. Ray’s a coward and he’ll soon get sick and tired of bugging me and find another girl to bother. Now, can we get back to our practice?” Her tone was clipped and short, signaling to anyone with half a brain that this topic was like, sooo over.

  Wulf only released her when Jai hit Play on her iPod. The music started up and Jai grabbed her hand to swing her into the first move of the routine.

  Wulf backed off to give her and Jai room. He watched for a few minutes, arms crossed over his chest, face impassive. Then he swiveled on his heel and stalked off. “I am making coffee,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Yes, please!” Chalcey called after him.

  “And if that scum touches one hair on your head, I will kill him.”

  “What did you say?” She missed a beat and almost stumbled.

  “Nothing.”

  Jai swept her up into a Seducer and as she arched back, she turned her head to stare at Wulf’s retreating back. Nothing? Yeah. Riiight. God help Ray if Wulf ever got hold of a sword.

  ~~~

  The rage pooled in his gut. His fists clenched and unclenched. Clenched again. He recognized the signs of a berserker-style fury. And in his own world, back in his own time, he would have embraced it. If any man had threatened one of his household, or encroached upon his property, he would have been well within his rights to challenge the man to a duel. And kill him, if he deemed the insult a serious enough matter.

  Much as he’d dearly love to seek Ray out and cut the cowardly dog to shreds, he had no sword or dagger. And he was no longer ill-informed enough to believe that those who upheld the law in this land would turn a blind eye if he slit the man’s throat.

  Nor would Chalcey look kindly upon him killing the man, no matter how much Ray insulted her honor and invaded her privacy. Upholding a man’s honor and his right to exact retribution, were not concepts that were properly understood here, in Chalcedony’s world—a pity. Many of the criminals featuring on a “crime show” he’d watched one night at Samantha’s apartment would benefit from harsher punishments for their crimes.

  Denied the simple pleasure of punishing Ray until he begged for mercy and promised on his life to leave Chalcedony be, Wulf punished the coffee beans.

  Chalcey did not own a coffee grinder—she bought already ground coffee in bricks. Wulf had bought her a bag of coffee beans and a grinder with his first paycheck. Now, however, he chose to attack the beans with a mortar and pestle. It was either that or smash something, and earn Chalcey’s wrath.

  Pulverizing beans was a poor substitute for the real thing.

  She should have confided in him about Ray. She should have trusted him to make this right. She should have—

  Wulf shook his head. There were many things he would be far more comfortable if Chalcey would do. But she did not fit into the mold of the women Wulf had known. He could not make her act as one of them, could not make her fit into his antiquated world-view of women. And nor would he want her to. She was an outspoken, resourceful, fiercely independent woman. She did not need a man to take care of her and coddle her and protect her. If she had concluded Ray’s antics were not worth dwelling upon, then he had to respect her decision.

>   He didn’t like it, but he would respect it, and allow her to handle it. He would also be primed and ready to step in and deal with Ray if the situation escalated.

  His anger and frustration had abated somewhat but his body craved a physical workout. If Jai and Chalcey hadn’t already been using the studio he would have taken the large space for himself. The precise movements of the many battle-forms designed to strengthen both body and mind would have helped him regain control of his emotions.

  Of course, he could always wait until they’d finished their session, and challenge Jai to a mock-duel. He did not imagine any workout he got with Jai would be as thorough as he liked, but the man was fit and strong. He might surprise Wulf. Not that Jai would win the challenge, but he might acquit himself reasonably well.

  Wulf scooped out the powdered beans and measured the correct number of spoonfuls into the old plunger that he preferred over Chalcey’s automatic coffee machine. When the water had boiled, he added it to the plunger, and waited for the coffee to steep. Three mugs, sugar and cream went onto a tray with the plunger. Then he ventured into the studio.

  Jai and Chalcey had finished working through their routine. Jai’s eyes lit when he spotted the third mug. “You made me coffee? I owe you big-time, Wulf-man. Been looking forward to a cup for the past hour.”

  He helped himself to cream, and eyed Chalcey, who had just put a teaspoon of sugar in her own mug, and was stirring it. “No sugar for me. Gotta watch the figure, you know.”

  She stuck out her tongue at him. “I need the energy.”

  Wulf grinned at Jai. “If you owe me, as you say, then there is a boon I would claim.”

  Jai blinked at him. “Sure thing. Name it.”

  “I need a physical workout and I would spar with you.”

  “Me?” Jai choked on his mouthful of coffee. “You mean, like, wrestling?”

  “He means like, hand-to-hand combat,” Chalcey said, obviously enjoying Jai’s discomfit.

  “Ah. Well. I’m not really into that sort of thing. And these wooden floorboards? Not exactly designed to break a fall, if you know what I mean.”

  “You could always take Wulf down to the Y,” Chalcey said. “I’m sure they have an area with mats that you could use to beat the crap out of each other.”

  “Shut up, Chalcey. Not helping.”

  She laughed at his expression and then turned to Wulf. “So you want a workout, huh?”

  “I do. What do you have in mind?”

  She put down her mug and gave him a saucy look that had him easing the fit of his trousers. He watched her saunter into the bedroom. “Jai,” he said, his gaze still glued to the room Chalcey had disappeared into as he placed his mug on the tray. “I regret that we must arrange to spar some other time.” He headed for the bedroom.

  “I’ll lock up,” Jai called after him. “Don’t let her get too rough with you!”

  “And don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out, Jai!” Chalcey yelled.

  Wulf heard Jai’s chuckle but he only had eyes for the naked woman lying atop the bed.

  “Come here,” she said. “And I’ll give you a workout you won’t forget.”

  He slid the door shut behind him. “I look forward to it.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Fifteen

  Classes had officially finished up for the evening but typically, the students were taking advantage of Chalcey’s distraction to get in some extra freestyling. She was chatting to Sam, brainstorming how she was going to come up with six grand plus change before the IRS started knocking on her door. Of course Sam had immediately offered to give her the money. Or loan her the money. Even charge her interest on said loan if she couldn’t stomach it any other way.

  Chalcey refused each offer. But she was wavering. Boy, was she ever. Especially since none of Sam’s other ideas had been very practical so far. Like the modeling one. No way was Chalcey going to “do some modeling on the side” when she hated being in front of a camera. And, even in the unlikely event that she did get on the books of some agency, where the heck was she supposed to find the time? Sometimes she wondered whether Sam lived in the real world.

  Esmeralda slinked on up to perch on the edge of the registration desk. “Couldn’t help overhearing. You know, I dated an accountant for a while. Didn’t last. Was fine until he realized I was serious about the whole sex change thing. Then he called it quits. Wanted it both ways, you see. Tits and dick. Greedy bastard.”

  Her statement completely floored Sam, who stood there gaping, unable to think of a single thing to say. Classic frame it and hang it on the wall for posterity moment.

  Chalcey’s laughter bubbled up and spilled out. “God, Esmeralda, is there anything you won’t say?”

  She shrugged. “When you’ve been through the sort of things I’ve been through, nothing embarrasses you anymore.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  She hitched up her dress and crossed her shapely legs.

  “What I wouldn’t give to have your legs,” Sam said.

  Esmeralda stuck her legs straight out and contemplated them critically. “Yeah, they’re not bad. Hair removal’s a bitch though. It’s so time-consuming being female.”

  “I wax,” Sam said.

  “I have to shave,” Esmeralda said. “Hairs come in too dark to get away with leaving them long enough to wax. What about you, Chalcey?”

  “Same. Hair removal’s one of the only times that I sincerely wish I took after my mother rather than my dad.”

  “Fine body hair’s the only good thing I inherited from my mother,” Sam said.

  Chalcey patted Esmeralda’s bared thigh. “Better put those away, sweetie. They’re attracting attention.”

  Esmeralda peeked up at her from beneath her lashes, hope flaring in her eyes. “Oooh! Who?”

  “Over there, by the sound system.” Chalcey jerked her chin at a guy holding up the wall, his gaze glued to Esmeralda’s legs.

  “Oh. Him. He’s sweet,” she said, a flush of color painting her to-die-for cheekbones. “A little too sweet. Don’t know he’d have the stomach for the truth.”

  “It’s tough, huh? Not knowing how they’ll react?”

  “You have no idea, Chalcey.” Esmeralda heaved a gusty sigh. Her bustier seemed about ready to pop its hooks and eyes, and her admirer’s eyes widened still more.

  “The perfect guy’s out there, Esmeralda. One day he’ll find you.”

  “Hope so.” She visibly shook herself. “Anyway, I didn’t come over here to talk about me. I have an idea how you could raise the money you need.”

  Chalcey leaned back in her chair, tapping her chin with the rolled up sign-in sheet. “Oh? Do tell.”

  “You could hold an auction.” She threw up a hand to prevent the automatic response that was about to spill from Chalcey’s lips. “An auction of men. Dates with men, to be precise. A whole bunch of us—” her emphasis on the word “us” made it clear she meant transgenders like herself “—auctioned ourselves off a few years ago to raise money for a friend with HIV. We held a charity gala. Raised a heap of cash for his treatments.” Her gaze went all dreamy and unfocused. “I had the best night. The guy who won me said I was worth every single dollar.”

  Sam’s gaze lit with admiration. “Omigod. That’s a fan-freaking-tastic idea!”

  “Sorry to pour cold water on a hot suggestion,” Chalcey said, “but where the fricking heck am I gonna find a whole bunch of young, fabulously good-looking men, willing to auction themselves off for my good cause?”

  Sam’s green eyes twinkled and she winked. “You’re speaking to the girl whose step-father number two owns a modeling agency, remember?”

  “How could I forget? That male model you set me up with—” She shuddered, making it a totally theatrical gesture to emphasize her point. “God. Had to fend the girls off with a stick every time we went out. Damned near impossible to have some alone time. Look, Sam, even if you do manage to rope in a heap of gorgeous himbos, there’s still
the whole charity tax write-off minefield to wade through. I’ve already been red-flagged by the IRS. Last thing I need is some anal-retentive IRS dude sniffing ’round and discovering I’m not registered as a charity or whatever.”

  Sam clicked her fingers. “Easy. We’ll just pitch you as a worthy cause to my mother and her do-gooder charity committee. Let them do all the paperwork while you reap the benefit.” She high-fived Esmeralda. “You,” she said, “are a girl after my own heart.”

  Esmeralda grinned. “You’re very welcome, Samantha. Provided I get an invite. Otherwise you’re in for one helluva bitch-slapping.”

  Chalcey covered her face with her hands and slumped forward on the desk. For good measure, she mimed banging her head on the desk, too. “Oh, no. What have I done?”

  ~~~

  The inaugural “Male Sale” was nearly a wrap. Combine the ticket sales with the money each auctionee had fetched so far, and it looked set to be a raging success.

  Chalcey still wasn’t convinced that auctioning off men was kosher, but it was too damn late to be doing anything about it now. Besides, any lingering doubts she harbored about this auction paled into insignificance when compared to her worries about the Crystal Guardian’s Testing.

  Six days left. A lifetime. And no time at all.

  Her fears gnawed at her until she pressed a fist to her stomach and banished them. For now.

  Officially, the proceeds of this event were to benefit various needy, female-oriented charities. Sam had presented Chalcey’s case to her mother’s charity committee, and argued that not only did Laureano’s Dance Studio promote fitness and a healthy lifestyle, but that Chalcey’s humble studio was single-handedly responsible for increasing the self-esteem of the neighborhood’s young women. Not to mention keeping them off the streets and out of trouble.

  When the committee had had the temerity to demur, Sam pointed out they sponsored many events to raise money for young women’s sports teams, but girls who weren’t into popular sports were neglected. Dance traditionally showcased refinement and elegance, something today’s teens were sadly lacking. Dance shouldn’t be a poor relation to athletic sports. It deserved equal consideration from the charity committee, yadda yadda.