She hiked her backpack on her shoulder and hung back as Josh and Mika approached Tonya, who was setting up chairs and a portable fireplace where people could get warm. Lupe stayed at the edge of the gathering crowd and waited for his voice.
“I told you not to come with your little friends.”
She glanced over her shoulder, then quickly moved her eyes forward. “Father Anthony doesn’t let us wander around by ourselves at night. Groups of two or three only.”
“Am I gonna have to stage an argument with you again?”
Lupe huffed. She was kind of sick of Daniel’s cloak-and-dagger silliness. She didn’t understand why everything had to be so secret. “Just tell me what the plan is. My mom isn’t working tomorrow night, so I’m gonna have to—”
“It’s not tomorrow night, it’s tonight.”
She turned, not caring if anyone noticed them. “What? That wasn’t what we talked about.”
“Plans had to change. Deal with it.” Daniel couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. “I got the car and the money tonight. You think there’s time to hang out and wait?”
Lupe didn’t know what to say. “I need more time” seemed selfish. “I don’t have anything ready.”
Daniel stepped closer to her, and in a place that mostly smelled like urine and human sweat, he smelled clean, masculine, and safe. “You don’t have to have stuff ready, Lupe. You have to be ready.” His dark eyes met hers. “Are you?”
She glanced at Mika and Josh, then back to Daniel. “Okay, tell me what to do. Right now, while they’re talking to Tonya.”
Daniel leaned down and began to whisper in her ear.
By the time Mika and Josh turned around, Lupe Martínez was gone.
Chapter One
New York City, NY
One week later
Brigid Connor glanced to her right and saw the shadow of a mountain at her shoulder. “Are you sure we know what we’re doing here?”
The mountain looked down. “Do we ever?”
Brigid shrugged. “Fair point.”
“Just give us your stuff and you can go,” the scrawny human holding the gun said.
The two men at the end of the alley were very convinced that the two people in evening wear whom they’d taken for tourists were clueless and would hand over their wallets now that they’d been cornered by “menacing” humans. The men had heard the heavy accents, seen the two strangers looking at a map of downtown. An honest-to-goodness map! Who used a map these days?
Had to be stupid foreign tourists.
“This dress doesn’t have a single place to carry a gun,” Brigid said. “Can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
“We’re going to a gallery opening.” The mountain, also known as her mate, Carwyn, spoke casually. “Admittedly, the New York art scene has been described as murderous, but who wouldn’t assume that was a metaphor?”
The men exchanged glances. The foreigners in the evening clothes didn’t seem worried.
“We said” —the stockier human stepped forward and raised his firearm— “hand over your stuff. Do that and nobody gets hurt.”
Brigid saw the dull black barrel the human pointed at her and cocked her head. “Oh hello, my pretty. Is that a Kimber nine millimeter? That’s a step up from the usual, isn’t it? Carwyn, look at this.”
Carwyn was starting to squirm in the dress clothes he’d been forced to don for the evening. “I’ve never had your penchant for firearms, darling girl. Can’t tell one from the other. Bang, bang, ow. That’s roughly the extent of my firearms acumen.”
“I’m just sayin’…” What was she thinking? They were wasting time. She pulled her gaze from the lovely pistol and looked at the man holding the gun on her. “Listen, before I give you my purse, can I grab my lighter from the pocket?” She laid her Irish accent on thick. “See, it was me own dear da’s, and he’s passed and it’s the last thing I have of his. It’s not dear or anything of the sort, but if you could just—”
“Fine!” The robber relented, no doubt just a little nervous that the extremely large man behind her didn’t seem anxious in the least and was inching closer as every moment passed.
Carwyn kicked at the asphalt. “Brigid, my love.”
“Yes, dear?” Brigid made a show of looking through her small purse.
“One thing I’ve noticed about these New York alleys? They really have a lot of potholes.”
“Is that so?” Her fingers closed around the lighter. “All the way down to the mud? Is that what yer saying?”
The second man was getting nervous. “Will you two shut up and hand over—”
“Found my lighter.” Brigid’s fingers closed around the cool metal.
“About time.”
At once, Brigid dropped her purse and flicked the lighter open as Carwyn fell to the ground, one arm shooting out to catch her handbag as the other hand pushed into the pothole where he’d been kicking asphalt.
Brigid braced herself for the quick jolt as Carwyn’s elemental power hit the earth beneath her feet. It threw both the humans holding guns off-balance. She hit the lighter and caught the flame in her hand, feeding it until it she held twin balls of fire.
“Guns are less noticeable in this country” —she advanced on the two humans and smiled, letting her fangs drop— “but they’re not the only weapon I have.”
The two men started screaming. They threw their guns at Brigid, who tossed the amber-gold fireball in the air and caught the Kimber.
“Come to me, my pretty.” She cooed at the abused nine millimeter, letting the other gun clatter to the ground. “Carwyn?”
“One more.” He grunted and the ground rolled again.
The two men curled into themselves as Brigid flung the other fireball toward them, letting the flames spread and dissipate close enough to burn their eyebrows but not harm them any more than that.
Carwyn rose, one hand filthy with mud and grime, the other holding the sparkly purse she’d borrowed for the evening.
“There you go.” He glanced at the gun. “And look at that. Your new pistol might just fit.”
“What a lad you are.” Brigid rose on her toes and kissed him. “Smart move, marrying you.” She pointed her chin at the two humans. “What shall we do with these two?”
“We’re going to be late as it is, and I’ve got to find some place to clean up a bit.” He looked down. “It’s a good thing this suit is dark grey.”
“The sleeve is a bit tragic, but I doubt anyone will notice.” Brigid looked at the trembling balls of human at the end of the alley, then at the dumpster next to Carwyn. “Maybe just put them in the skip for a bit.”
Carwyn nodded, walked over, and picked up one curled human as if he were a duffel bag, tossing him in the dumpster before he added the other. He snarled at the two men, baring long, thick fangs that gleamed in the streetlights.
“If you want to live,” he growled in a menacing voice, “don’t even think about moving.”