The Fix Is In (Torus Intercession 4)

“Wow,” Delly gasped, staring.

“Oh my goddess, wow is right,” Sian echoed. “Holy crap, Shaw, you didn’t say your friend looked like that.”

“Like what?” Benji asked her. “You don’t think he looks like he needs a keeper? Someone to take care of him?”

“I’ll take care of him,” Delly offered.

“You’re too young for him,” Sian said, sitting up straight as he joined us.

“Rais,” I greeted him. “This is Sian and Delly. They work with Benji.”

His smile, all gleaming eyes and perfect white, even teeth, rendered them mute. The dimples were overkill. “It’s a pleasure, ladies,” he greeted them, taking a seat next to me and passing me Benji’s laptop, which I’d asked him to bring. I opened it and asked Benji for the password.

“There’s no password,” he told me, putting his head on my shoulder, leaning into my side, his hand on my thigh under the table.

“You have to have a—Christ,” I grumbled. “Where are these pictures you took of this goddamn specter in the woods?”

“In the folder called Reflections of My New Home,” he announced dramatically, and I could hear all the capitalization in his speech.

“So, Rais,” Sian began, smiling at him, “are you a fixer too?”

“I am,” he answered. “I was in the Army up until last year, but it was time for a change.”

“Do you like being a fixer?”

“I do,” he assured them, then turned to the waitress who’d come by to get his order.

It was fun to watch her eyes widen and her jaw drop as she stared at the gorgeous stranger, unable, it seemed, to form a sentence.

“Could I get some coffee and a steak, medium, three eggs, and toast, wheat if you have it?”

She nodded and darted away, but was back moments later with a mug, as well as a glass of ice water, ignoring everyone at the bar.

“Thank you,” he said warmly, and I thought she was going to melt into a puddle of goo right there. I had to admit that going out on jobs with Rais was fun. I never waited for servers when I was with him; they seemed to magically appear. Flight attendants were amazing, and when we stayed in hotels, our rooms were always upgraded. There were perks to hanging out with a man who looked like a movie star.

“I didn’t realize that fixers went out on jobs in pairs as well,” Sian commented. “I thought it was one fixer per job.”

“Most of the time, yes,” he explained, pouring his coffee. He smelled the cream and put it back down. “But there’s always the odd job that requires a pair.”

I located the folder I was looking for on Benji’s laptop and opened it, somewhat surprised to see that all the photographs were in black-and-white. “Why no color?”

“Black-and-white catches spectral images better,” Delly answered.

“That’s correct,” Sian chimed in as food started being delivered to the table.

There were zucchini muffins, quinoa power bowls with steamed veggies, and egg white omelets. There were also mixed greens and what looked like rice pudding and granola.

“That is not pub food,” I announced with disdain as a pot of honey was placed on the table. I pointed at the pudding. “And what is that?”

“It’s chia seed pudding,” Rais informed me, and then asked the waitress for some regular cream before he started looking at the laptop with me.

“That’s not cream?” I asked him, looking at my own coffee, wondering if that was the reason it tasted weird.

“No, it’s coconut milk,” he answered distractedly, going through the pictures.

“How did you know that?”

“Because,” he said slowly, “my sister is a vegan, and she tries to feed me crappy power foods like that.” He turned the laptop so he could tap the keys and didn’t have to wait for me. “I do not eat a plant-based diet,” he informed me. “Like you, I’m a meat eater.”

I turned to Benji. “Pub food is supposed to be bad for you, and you ate bacon last night.”

He made a face.

“What?”

He closed one eye. “That wasn’t actually bacon.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was a bacon substitute.”

I scowled at him. “You fed me fake bacon?”

“Technically, you fed yourself fake bacon since you cooked it.”

“It looked just like bacon.” I was horrified and a bit relieved. I had wondered about the taste at the time but assumed it was the brand. I suppose I should have felt some relief that it wasn’t spoiled. I would need to investigate things more thoroughly going forward. It was probably a good lesson for life in general.

“Aw, your face,” he said sympathetically, even as he chuckled and leaned in to give me a little hug. “I feel bad now.”

“No, you don’t,” I countered, because he couldn’t stop laughing.

“Well, no, but you look so disappointed and betrayed, and it’s adorable.”

“Me looking sad is adorable?” I said, trying for disdain. “You’re a horrible person.”