finger across his neck. “Dude, she will gut you if you lost her car.”
“I know.” Cal shook his head and joined Nix out on his motorcycle.
The drive to Toro’s took a few minutes longer than normal while they waited for the old drawbridge to lower. Located on Water Street, across the Mystic River, Toro’s was an old favorite. The place had been open for at least fifty years and, bar none, had the crispiest, most delectable crust on the planet. Cal never missed eating there whenever he was in the area which, sadly, wasn’t very often any more.
After Nix’s memories had been purged and their relationship lost, he had spent time haunting the streets of Mystic, trying to cope with her loss. It didn’t really work. The moping only made his heart ache more. He finally gave up and asked Nereus to assign him to the West Coast. He worked in Northern California, but even that wasn’t far enough away. He asked for a more difficult mission—Africa and the Middle East. The assignments, hardcore and deep undercover, had kept him busy for several decades. Still drowning in grief, his recklessness had nearly cost him his life on several occasions. Eventually he landed on a secluded island off the coast of Africa. There, he tried to drown out his love for Nix by becoming entangled in Amazon Warrior court intrigues. Not a wise decision. If his father hadn’t intervened, he might have become a eunuch.
The drawbridge lowered and traffic moved forward. Vibrations from the grated surface rumbled through the bike, rattling the steering. Nix tightened her grip in response, her warm body pressing deeper against his. Feral signals raced into Cal’s brain. He wanted nothing more than to take her, then and there. Instead, he concentrated on the traffic slowing down in front of him and prayed to every God and Goddess he knew that he would find some clue as to what had happened.
How could someone have taken his soul, if it already belonged to Nix?
Chapter 9
Nix tensed when Cal pulled up to the curbside parking lot of Toro’s Pizza. Tingles raced down the base of her spine. The small hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. The windows were dark, yet it was the middle of the day. A closed sign was tacked askew to the shop door. The characteristic aromas of dough and fragrant spices were noticeably absent.
Cal parked the bike and surveyed the area, his hands flexing. Warm energy radiated off his body, his power amped up. “I don’t like this.”
Nix stopped dead in her tracks. “My baby.” The Challenger was parked in the back alley in Toro’s reserved spot. Lucky for Cal, it looked okay. She headed toward it, only to be jerked backward by Cal’s firm grip.
“Later.” Grim-faced, he approached the back door and placed his palm across the flat surface. The slight touch pushed the unlocked door open. Easing into the backroom pantry, Nix followed Cal through the kitchen.
Dead silence greeted them. Along with half-made food and cold pizza ovens. An overturned pan of sauce had congealed on the prep station. Thick splatters of red liquid trailed out the kitchen door.
Nix drew the water from a stack of nearby water bottles, palming its heavy weight into a ball as they approached the dining room. The old floorboards creaked and groaned under their weight. Toro had left the main part of the restaurant in its original state. The old, wide-plank flooring, decorative molding, and wooden clapboards gave it an Eighteenth century feel. He had been reluctant to update, beyond the required amenities like electric lights, heat, and plumbing required for modern building codes. He enjoyed the ambience. Said it reminded him of when he first opened the place.
A furious roar ripped the air around them, rattling the walls, vibrating the floor. Heavy hooves clomped into the room. Loud puffs of breath approached, like an oncoming freight train. Cal slammed into the wall. Delivery, courtesy of an angry black mountain of fur and muscle.
“I know.” Cal shook his head and joined Nix out on his motorcycle.
The drive to Toro’s took a few minutes longer than normal while they waited for the old drawbridge to lower. Located on Water Street, across the Mystic River, Toro’s was an old favorite. The place had been open for at least fifty years and, bar none, had the crispiest, most delectable crust on the planet. Cal never missed eating there whenever he was in the area which, sadly, wasn’t very often any more.
After Nix’s memories had been purged and their relationship lost, he had spent time haunting the streets of Mystic, trying to cope with her loss. It didn’t really work. The moping only made his heart ache more. He finally gave up and asked Nereus to assign him to the West Coast. He worked in Northern California, but even that wasn’t far enough away. He asked for a more difficult mission—Africa and the Middle East. The assignments, hardcore and deep undercover, had kept him busy for several decades. Still drowning in grief, his recklessness had nearly cost him his life on several occasions. Eventually he landed on a secluded island off the coast of Africa. There, he tried to drown out his love for Nix by becoming entangled in Amazon Warrior court intrigues. Not a wise decision. If his father hadn’t intervened, he might have become a eunuch.
The drawbridge lowered and traffic moved forward. Vibrations from the grated surface rumbled through the bike, rattling the steering. Nix tightened her grip in response, her warm body pressing deeper against his. Feral signals raced into Cal’s brain. He wanted nothing more than to take her, then and there. Instead, he concentrated on the traffic slowing down in front of him and prayed to every God and Goddess he knew that he would find some clue as to what had happened.
How could someone have taken his soul, if it already belonged to Nix?
Chapter 9
Nix tensed when Cal pulled up to the curbside parking lot of Toro’s Pizza. Tingles raced down the base of her spine. The small hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. The windows were dark, yet it was the middle of the day. A closed sign was tacked askew to the shop door. The characteristic aromas of dough and fragrant spices were noticeably absent.
Cal parked the bike and surveyed the area, his hands flexing. Warm energy radiated off his body, his power amped up. “I don’t like this.”
Nix stopped dead in her tracks. “My baby.” The Challenger was parked in the back alley in Toro’s reserved spot. Lucky for Cal, it looked okay. She headed toward it, only to be jerked backward by Cal’s firm grip.
“Later.” Grim-faced, he approached the back door and placed his palm across the flat surface. The slight touch pushed the unlocked door open. Easing into the backroom pantry, Nix followed Cal through the kitchen.
Dead silence greeted them. Along with half-made food and cold pizza ovens. An overturned pan of sauce had congealed on the prep station. Thick splatters of red liquid trailed out the kitchen door.
Nix drew the water from a stack of nearby water bottles, palming its heavy weight into a ball as they approached the dining room. The old floorboards creaked and groaned under their weight. Toro had left the main part of the restaurant in its original state. The old, wide-plank flooring, decorative molding, and wooden clapboards gave it an Eighteenth century feel. He had been reluctant to update, beyond the required amenities like electric lights, heat, and plumbing required for modern building codes. He enjoyed the ambience. Said it reminded him of when he first opened the place.
A furious roar ripped the air around them, rattling the walls, vibrating the floor. Heavy hooves clomped into the room. Loud puffs of breath approached, like an oncoming freight train. Cal slammed into the wall. Delivery, courtesy of an angry black mountain of fur and muscle.
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