Chapter 17 Shyanne
SHYANNE
Ichecked my phone again, even though I knew there wouldn’t be a message, and shifted on the seat. It was a nervous habit, glancing at the damned device every minute or so, worried and anxious about what I was doing here.
With no message to read or missed calls to see, I tucked the phone back into my small clutch and glanced around the restaurant.
It was a bistro-style steakhouse called Andrew’s on Main, and it was really fancy.
I’d already perused the menu while waiting, and nearly choked on my water when I saw the prices.
The place had a tomahawk ribeye that was two hundred freaking dollars!
And that was just the steak, everything else was à la carte at equally exorbitant amounts.
“Can I get you a glass of wine, ma’am?” my server said, swooping to my table once again.
“Uh, sure, yeah,” I said, glancing at the front door. “Whatever you suggest. I like white wine mostly.”
“Understood,” he said with a grin. “A glass of our house white?”
“Sounds great,” I muttered.
He vanished to get my drink, leaving me alone once again.
Several men around the restaurant had already shot covetous looks in my direction since I’d arrived.
I couldn’t blame them, honestly—I’d gone all out with my clothing.
The slinky black dress hugged my hips and was cut very low, showing off what little cleavage I had.
It was short enough that I worried I’d give the whole restaurant a glimpse of my nether regions if I bent over.
Paired with the stiletto heels and my freshly done hair and makeup, I really stood out.
I was also tall and muscled, so I caught the attention of about every guy—and quite a few ladies too.
I had to go out and buy the dress for the occasion, and I felt quite out of place, but I needed to make a good impression on this date.
To try and get my nerves under control, I went back to scrolling on my phone, deciding to read through a website about magic, cryptids, and myths.
The site was basic and looked like it had been made thirty years ago, but it had tons of information.
Though, how much was true and how much was simply internet and historic speculation, I had no idea, but it was better than nothing.
Ever since meeting Jackson, I’d had an almost insatiable desire to learn more about his world and all the things surrounding me that I’d never known about.
It was also a good way to keep my mind off the stress of everything.
The current subchapter I scanned dealt with magical stones.
I skimmed the article to get the basic gist.
Similar to the positive and negative poles of a magnet, magic can have negating, or opposing, effects when certain stones are brought together.
One such effect is that of moonstone and obsidian—moonstone being one of the most powerful mystical minerals known on Earth due to its almost infinite ability to store and hold magic…
When brought together, obsidian and moonstone counteract one another, and in most cases one item or the other will be destroyed in a rather breathtaking fashion.
One might even… takes a very skilled magician to get the most out of moonstone, and use it as an almost magical battery or storage system…
Other stones of similar type are bloodstone, opal, and citrine, that can be used for—
“Here you are, ma’am.”
I blinked, tearing my eyes from my phone to find the server had returned with my wine. Nodding my thanks, I went back to my phone, checking if he’d perhaps sent me a message through the dating app instead of directly to my cell. Nothing.
My nerves had begun to ratchet up to the level of panic when the door to the restaurant opened, and he finally walked in. I smiled with satisfaction and relief, waving to him to catch his attention. Christian spotted me and smiled wide, hurrying across the room to join me at my table.
Standing, I gave him a hug, and he pecked me on the cheek.
“Glad you could make it,” I said as we sat down.
He gave me a sheepish smile, then tucked his napkin onto his lap. “Sorry I’m late. Parking was horrendous. I had to go to a garage four blocks over before I found a place.”
“Greetings, sir,” the server said, having returned once more. “And what can I get you to drink?” he asked as he filled Christian’s glass with water.
“Uh,” Christian glanced at the beverage menu on the table, but chose to ignore it. “An old-fashioned?”
“Bourbon, or rye?” the server asked.
“Bourbon. Buffalo Trace?”
“Very good. I’ll be right back with that. Any starters for the couple?”
My cheeks heated, but Christian took a quick look at the menu and said, “The tuna tataki looks really good. Let’s get an order of that.”
“Fantastic choice, sir,” the server said, then hurried away.
Christian and I grinned awkwardly at each other.
“Uhm,” I said, and glanced around to see if anyone was watching. “It’s really nice to meet you.”
Christian nodded, and also zipped his gaze around the dining room once before saying, “Same, uh, you look really great tonight.” His phone sat on the table by his hand, and he tapped it with a finger. “I really enjoyed your profile, I thought we made a good match.”
The server returned with Christian’s cocktail as well as a basket of fresh-baked bread and a ramekin of butter. He took our orders before departing. When he was gone, Christian leaned in close, narrowing the gap between us, and took my hand.
“Is this okay?” he whispered. “Am I playing this up the right way?”
“It’s great,” I answered. “I don’t think anyone looking will suspect anything.”
“Good.” He sighed. “I’m not a very talented actor. My little sister is way better at this kind of shit.”
When Jackson had come to me, on the verge of a nervous breakdown and needing help, it had taken an hour to calm him down and get the full story out of him.
It had been exactly as I worried. That Joseph Anitoli prick was never going to let Jackson free, and would continue holding his little sister’s life over him, forcing him to do more and more depraved and awful things.
Now, he was supposed to kidnap and murder his best friend’s little sister. It was disgusting and horrifying.
After a couple days of brainstorming a plan, we both knew the only way it could work was with Christian on board.
The problem was getting to him without Anitoli’s men finding out Jackson had contacted him.
They knew they were friends, and any interaction would be scrutinized.
That left me—the wildcard they didn’t know about.
The issue was how would I contact him without casting suspicion.
Thankfully, Christian was a bit of a player and had a few dating app profiles.
What better way to subvert suspicion than pretend to be looking for a hot date?
“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on now?” Christian asked.
“I am. I’m sorry for the, uh”—I glanced around again—“subterfuge.”
“All good,” Christian said with a smile.
“I’ll be honest, I was freaked out when you sent me the first message on the app.
I had the impression you and Jackson were becoming a thing.
Then, like five seconds later, Jackson texts me to go with it, and I’m like, what the hell does that mean?
” Christian’s smile slipped, and he narrowed his eyes at me.
“Jackson’s not, like, into some sort of cuckold fantasy or something right? Because I’m not down for that.”
“Oh, Jesus!” I laughed and clenched Christian’s hand harder. “No. Dear God. It’s not sexual. It’s…well, it’s life and death.”
His face grew somber, and he opened his mouth to ask a question, but then the waiter returned with the appetizer. We thanked him and nibbled for a few seconds, making it look like anormal date, before getting back to business.
“Christian,” I said, feeling nervous about how he’d react. “You know about Jackson’s issue with the Anitolis, right?”
“Of course. Hell, I helped him steal that stupid car. That was a disaster by the way.”
“I have to tell you something, and I don’t know how you’re going to react.
Before I tell you, I need you to be very cautious.
You’re going to be angry, you’ll want to scream and rage, but you have to stay calm.
” As I spoke, all remnants of a smile faded from his lips, and his expression grew wary and confused the more I went on.
“People are watching Jackson, and they’re watching you.
That’s the reason I contacted you. They don’t know me, so they have no reason to suspect me—”
“Shyanne… what the fuck are you talking about?” Christian sounded both agitated and scared.
“Shhh,” I hissed, then let out a small laugh as though he’d said something funny. I ran a finger over the back of his hand, being as flirtatious as I could manage. Christian looked down at my hand like I’d gone crazy, but quickly caught on.
He chuckled, then said, “What…the….fuck…is going on?”
“You need to remember what I said. Life and death. You understand, right?” I said.
He looked like he wanted to argue, but after studying my face, he nodded slowly. “Okay. Fine. I’ll be fine.”
He took a sip of his drink, whether to give himself some liquid courage to hear what I was about to say, or to postpone what he’d already decided was bad news, I wasn’t sure.
Waiting until he was looking at me again, I squeezed his hand. “Jackson returned the car, and when he did, Joseph Anitoli told him that he wasn’t giving his sister’s egg back until he did something else.”
“Yeah, I heard about that,” Christian said, the food on the table now lying forgotten. “What does he want him to do?”
I swallowed hard. “He wants…” I blew out a breath, then said the rest in a rush. “He wants Jackson to kidnap and murder your little sister.”