It was closing in on nine p.m. when Deva finally pushed open the door of the Never Late Latte. She had decided against skipping the employee meeting, even though the theme of the night was always fun and drinks rather than any real discussions about patients and projects. Maybe it was her way of clinging to what she had worked so hard for, or maybe she didn’t want to change her routine and raise suspicions. It amazed her how her old habits returned full force after only a single phone call.
The café was quiet at this hour, the familiar indie station crooning in the background. At a table, a couple was talking. A beautiful blond woman and a man with dark hair and beard trimmed short, with stunning gray eyes that settled on her for a brief instant before returning to his companion.
Two customers were doctoring their drinks on a side station. They were familiar faces and café regulars. Deva saw Beatrice sitting in a booth by the windows. Beatrice nodded at her and Deva did the same before making a beeline for the counter. After ordering a black tea, she made her way to the woman to whom she owed her life. Beatrice hadn’t changed much, still slender and willowy, her red hair spiking on her head and the same freckles on her pale face. A warrior fairy. The thought made Deva bite back a smile when she sat on the bench in front of her.
“I’m glad to see you, Deva. Love the hair. It suits you, gives you an edge.”
“Well, the passive blonde Barbie doll was never truly my look, to be honest. You know that.”
Beatrice nodded, swirling her cup of coffee. “Passive, submissive, easy, would never be words I would use to describe you.”
Deva put her hand around her mug, looking at the darkening liquid. “I don’t think my father, or my... family, would agree with you.”
“Only because they never saw the true you. They only saw a young girl that could be used to their advantage, for their own profit.”
Deva pondered on her words for a moment, before looking at Beatrice again. “And if what you say is true, can you explain to me why I’m here? Am I about to be used to your advantage, or profit?”
The calm expression of this dangerous woman changed to one of someone who had been insulted. “I’m not forcing you into anything. I told you that if I helped you to get out, I might need you. Maybe. But if you don’t want to be here, walk away, Deva. You aren’t a slave, and I’m not going to force you into anything. I only thought we had an agreement.”
Deva arched an eyebrow. “You mean, I can continue living the life I have, here in Texas. Just like that?”
Beatrice sighed and leaned on the padded back. “Just like that.”
It would have been so easy to push her mug aside, take her bag and leave this place. But despite everything else, she knew Beatrice wasn’t an enemy. She had been a friend, years ago, when a frightened young girl was desperate to get away, to get free. She may have been young, and somewhat naive, but certainly not stupid. The deal she had made, she was willing to pay. Not because she was coerced, but because of simple gratitude. If not for the woman sitting before her, she may have hanged herself or ended up in an even worse fate.
It was Deva’s turn to lean back and sigh. “And you know I won’t walk out. That’s all bluff.”
“No bluff, I’m not lying.”
Deva ignored her answer. “What I mean is I can’t walk out on you. I owe you. A lot. And I meant it when I agreed to help you if ever you needed me. That agreement still stands today. Here and now.”
For a long time, Beatrice looked at her before nodding. “At the risk of having you bite my head off, that part of you is so like your father.”
Deva’s jaw clenched before forcing herself to relax it again. No need to get angry about things she couldn’t change or simple facts.
“Let’s skip that topic, shall we?”
Beatrice leaned forward once more, her eyes intently on her. “Let’s not. Not totally at least because what I need from you, that favor, is linked to your previous life. More specifically, to your knowledge of that past life.”
Deva rolled her shoulders, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling that had crept on her. Her past always was a topic she carefully avoided thinking about. “And that would be?”
“Keeping an eye on someone. But maybe I’m not the best person to tell you all about it. Do you mind if I introduce you to my friends?”
Deva blinked, and it clicked. “The blonde beauty or the silver-eye hunk?”
Beatrice burst out laughing. “You’re quick. Dangerously so. A trait I always liked about you. Both would like to join us, but it’s the hunk, as you said it, that will give you the information about what we need you to do.”
“And the blonde?”
Something softened in Beatrice’s eye. “A friend, and your direct contact to me. Gabrielle Thorne has worked for Purgatory for a long time, and can support you in any way you wish, even retrieve you if you ever demand it.”
“And Mr. Silver?”
“Lazarus King. He’s a long-time friend, and the one requesting our help. But of all my agents, my contacts or my friends, you are the only one I could think of to really bring an edge, the tipping point we need to succeed.”
Deva turned her head to the couple still ignoring them and shrugged. “Hell. Ask them to come over. The more the fucking merrier.”
Beatrice nodded before sliding out the bench to stand. Deva looked at her as she approached and nodded at the couple. The trio came back, Beatrice sat beside her, the woman named Gabrielle in front of her and the man, Lazarus, at the end. The man was gorgeous in a very dangerous way. From experience, by the way he moved, underneath his black shirt and pants was a well-oiled machine, one who had seen war, on the battlefield, or the streets. The blonde woman smiled, but the way she scanned the area told Deva that she was an operative, a lot like Bea. She was married as per the worn golden ring on her finger. He wasn’t. His mercury eyes were set on her, and she suspected, as a test. Powerful men had a tendency, consciously or not, to test people around them. Instead of avoiding the intensity, she let herself fall into it. It had been her way, a long time ago when confronted with people like him. And what she had discovered was once the first punch in the gut had passed, she could draw the power he exuded for herself, helping her to be steadier, stronger and more unyielding to her opponent in that staring contest.
Someone spoke, and Deva was surprised when the man finally blinked and smiled. The darkness that filled him lifted and there was an incredibly handsome man looking back at her. And when he spoke, the low tone of his voice, or was it his British accent, finished to turn her into jelly. Deva guessed that if he couldn’t get what he wanted with his fists, he could seduce it out of anybody. And that alone intrigued her even more, curiosity inching forward to discover why such a man would be in need of her.
“I like her; she will do perfectly.”
The woman named Gabrielle arched an eyebrow at him before shaking her head and extending a hand to Deva. “I’m Gabrielle Thorne. And this is Lazarus King. And just for standing up to this guy, you have my respect. Especially since you had the self-control not to punch him in the face.”
Lazarus looked offended. “I did nothing to warrant your aggressiveness toward me.”
Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “From the moment I met you, I have refrained from hitting you behind the head with a baseball bat. You are lucky I’m a compassionate woman.”
Baffled, the man crossed his arms. “Compassionate? Remind me when exactly?”
“I saved your ass, didn’t I? Even though you were supposed to protect two of the most important people in my life.”
He almost sputtered his answer. “It was a trap. And I did my best to protect them both. If not for me, they would have died.”
Deva bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. Gabrielle had balls, as it was obvious that the tall man sitting beside her could inflict harm in a heartbeat, but she also suspected that the blonde wasn’t a kitten either.
“Are you married to one another?”
Beatrice snickered at the look of utter outrage on both their faces as they looked at her. It was Gabrielle who answered first.
“Hell no! I would be accused of murder within thirty seconds. I would never marry this stick in the mud.”
Lazarus rubbed his eyes. “As if your husband were truly a catch. But we’re digressing here, and I’m sure Miss Landry prefers to know why we’re here than talk about your marriage to that crazy Navy SEAL.”
“My husband is not crazy, watch your mouth, jerk, or should I say tosser? Isn’t the same thing for you, Brit?”
Before Lazarus could reply, Beatrice raised her hands in appeasement. “I think we should talk about why we are here. And then you kids can settle your feud at recess. Lazarus, can you start?”
Lazarus nodded and reigned himself in as he turned to the business at hand. “I asked Beatrice’s help because I can’t go through the usual channels I’m used to. And she assured me that she can trust you. Can I, Deva Landry? Trust you?”
Gone was the lighthearted banter. Lazarus King was asking a very specific question, and if she failed to answer right, her life would be on the line.
“Yes. You can trust me, Mr. King.”
After gazing a long moment in her eyes, he simply nodded, as if seeing the confirmation that he was desperately looking for.
“Please, call me Oz. Let’s begin.”