Chapter Two
Silver.
Nico Yanez’s eyes shot open, already in motion, thankful he was at least wearing boxer shorts. Rolling silently off the mattress currently located in the middle of the floor of the apartment that used to belong to his brother, Matias. The apartment situated above the bar they co-owned together.
The space unused since Matias had moved into his new meld mate, Quinn’s home. The perfect place for Nico to sleep for a few weeks, given he’d loaned his boat to Matias and Quinn for their official honeymoon.
Dim moonlight streamed in the through the nearest window overlooking the beach below, providing enough light for Nico to make his way on silent bare feet across the gleaming wooden floors to the polished brass pole, located on the other side of the room.
One of the few features they’d kept when they converted the old abandoned fire station into a bar.
Even though he couldn’t see the intruder, Nico could sense their general location. Currently, they were behind the bar, heading towards the kitchen. Not the office where the safe was kept? Weird.
Descended from a long line of treasure hunters, Nico had not just an affinity for things made of silver; they called to him.
And the older they were, the louder they called.
Tugging at his gut. Find me. Find me. Incredibly useful when you were exploring an old wreck or searching for lost things or civilisations miles below the ocean surface.
He dismissed the idea instantly that this was some silly hijinks perpetrated by one of the local Southern Sanctuary residents.
They did like their practical jokes. But none would have considered breaking into the Five Alarm Bar at four in the morning.
Besides, most of the rabid local pranksters were elderly - like over a century old - elderly.
So tended to confine their antics to business hours.
Still, Nico paused at the top of the pole, running through any number of other innocent reasons someone may have chosen to break into his bar.
The invisible sheep were always on a militant animal rights tear, and thanks to their DNA and training, could move ninja quiet.
But the bar didn’t currently have lamb on the menu.
And there was that silver element the intruder was carrying that kept tugging at his gut.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t just old; it was ancient. Achingly, grindingly old, gnawing away at Nico.
Grabbing a blanket, Nico wrapped it around the brass pole and climbed on, sliding downwards fast and quietly. Moving from shadow to shadow, he made his way towards the swinging kitchen doors. Adrenalin spiking in anticipation, his fists clenched in readiness.
Damn it, he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying the prospect of tangling with an intruder.
He was a bar owner these days. A retired treasure hunter.
His life was pretty much perfect. His brother, Matias, was cured of his memory issues.
Having spent almost a decade awakening every morning - his memory reverting - thinking he was back on their parents’ boat.
Where Mama, Papa, and all their friends had just been violently killed, and their kid sister, Copper, had mysteriously disappeared.
But Matias was cured. Even better, Copper had been rescued from the past, and lived here at the Southern Sanctuary now.
And okay, she was… changed, might even be the Goddess she proclaimed she was.
But she was also in love and melded to the biggest, baddest dude around.
And Elijah would lay down his life to keep Copper happy and safe.
Sure, Nico still worried about her, but he worried about her a lot less than he used to.
No, what kept him awake lately was the dark path his own life had led him down over the last year. He’d taken a life, almost with relish, snapping the neck of the first, only, woman he’d ever loved.
Loved? What a joke.
Kristiah had been a liar, a fraud, and, unexpectedly, a half-hybrid jaguar, created by a mad human sacrificing priest almost five hundred years ago in the past. Sent to the future to find a hollowed-out blade containing shards of the Goddess Ixchel’s heart.
Hooking up with the treasure hunting Yanez family must have seemed like a no brainer for a schemer like Kristiah. Seducing Nico a bonus. Intent upon securing his loyalty, or perhaps she’d just been bored. Either way, she’d played him like a violin.
He’d spent a good number of sleepless nights over the past year wracking his brain, looking back, searching for signs that he should have seen, castigating himself for being a na?ve, trusting fool.
And replaying the memory over and over again of the moment he broke that lying, murderous bitch’s neck - snap. So easy. So simple.
He kept thinking he should feel some kind of remorse.
For taking a life. Yet every time Nico thought about that moment, his blood boiled with outrage that she hadn’t paid a higher price for her crimes.
His only regret? Kristiah’s life had ended too quickly, too cleanly.
And just what did that say about him these days?
Retired treasure hunter. Bar owner. Killer.
Killer?
A one-off incident. Taking the life of the woman who’d murdered his parents and friends.
The woman he’d spent a decade searching for.
A woman he’d mourned along with Copper as the years passed and he began to fear they were both dead.
Only to find out Kristiah was alive and the catalyst for every bit of tragedy in his life.
Many would say her death was justice, or karma.
They wouldn’t hold Nico’s actions against him.
One time, given the circumstances, was forgivable.
Snap.
Staring down at the crumpled body of the intruder, Nico wondered what everyone would say about him now.
Two bodies under his belt. Waiting for a wave of remorse that never arrived, all he felt was vindicated, annoyed and curious.
Who the hell was this asshole? And what the fuck had they been doing in his kitchen at four in the morning, contemplating the contents of the large refrigerator that contained all their premade sauces, relishes and condiments?
Flicking on the light above the nearest workstation, Nico moved back to the intruder for a closer look. Huh. That was new. Unless the housebreakers’ guild had a new dress requirement, he was guessing togas would be considered an anomaly amongst their members.
The garment was short and pale blue. It didn’t shriek expert house burglar attire.
Crouching down, Nico gave the body a push, rolling the man over on to his back.
Okay, the weirdness didn’t just stop with the dude’s attire.
The body was emitting a soft golden glow.
He hadn’t been aware of it when he was sneaking up behind the guy because of the glare from the open refrigerator light.
But now, it was undeniable. And not just the dude’s skin, but his hair, a mass of tousled golden curls, gleamed abnormally.
The intruder was clean shaven. With three old scars clearly visible thanks to his attire.
One on his forearm, probably due to a sharp-edged weapon.
And two more on his torso, one long and jagged running along his upper ribs.
The dude was muscular, but lean. The scars revealing he’d at one time been a fighter.
Though they had long healed. And there was an interesting tattoo on his right bicep.
A sword crossed with a hammer to form an X.
It looked a little incongruous on this tousled-haired golden man, who, based upon looks alone, screamed gym poseur, not fighter.
There was a black webbed pouch belted around his waist. It stood out since it was the only modern item the guy was wearing.
Carefully undoing the zip, Nico stared down at the contents.
Crap. A capped stainless steel syringe, currently nestled in polystyrene packaging, stared back at him. What the hell was going on?
So many questions battered at Nico. All the typical ones. Who? Why? What the fuck?
Although he could get an answer to at least one question. Gingerly, Nico opened the pouch a little wider, reaching in, carefully avoiding anything to do with that sinister syringe. He pulled out the silver item that had alerted him to the intruder’s presence.
Abruptly, the golden glow switched off. The body now just a tanned, curly-haired blonde dude wearing a toga, dead on his kitchen floor. Nothing special to see here folks, move it along.
Nico held the ring up to the light, frowning. It was a woman’s ring. Tiny. No way would it have fit this dude’s pinkie even. Gleaming, as if it had just been made yesterday. Resting atop the ring was a silver dove, wings splayed wide as if taking flight.
In ancient times, doves signified love and devotion. Given as pledges of troth or promises to be kept. Despite its tiny size, the ring weighed on Nico’s senses like an elephant. Its age undeterminable by mere sight, but Nico’s magic whispered the answer. The ring was roughly ten thousand years old.
Standing up, Nico grabbed a paper towel, wrapping it around the ring.
That felt slightly better. Touching the bare metal had felt strangely unclean.
They say things don’t hold memories, but the Yanez family would beg to differ, given their experiences with ancient treasures.
And for some reason, this tiny ring made Nico’s gut churn with distaste and suspicion, which made no sense.
Huh, but what the hell was making sense this morning?
An intruder breaks into a bar. Wearing a toga and roman sandals, for Saints’ sake. And prior to getting his neck snapped, the guy had glowed distinctly golden.