Sometimes it takes a thief and a dragon to fix things…
Myra and Christopher have done jobs to rescue damsels in distress before. In fact, rescuing people in trouble is what they do now. Between Myra’s magical talents as a thief and Christopher’s dragon shifter connections, they are very good at their work.
But this particular job comes with the added danger of dealing with a man so cold-blooded and deadly, they don’t dare meet him somewhere ordinary. Myra has been to the Café before. Done business there. Knows the witch behind the counter will ensure nothing goes terribly wrong. Which makes it the perfect rendezvous spot.
Because with this level of con, something can always go wrong. An innocent woman’s life hangs in the balance. And no matter what Myra and Christopher do, someone will die.
MYRA AND CHRISTOPHER AT THE CAFE is available to read for free until the 15th of April, when another story will be posted. For readers who would prefer to read on a device of preference, or who would like their own personal eBook of this story, you can find it here.
***
Myra and Christopher at the Café
A Café Story
The café’s warm coziness wrapped around Myra the minute she pushed inside, the smell of coffee and pastries with just a background hint of books from the adjoining bookstore a delightful combination. Almost as delicious as Christopher’s scent—whether he was oozing ordinary dragon shifter smells of leather and musk and a very faint hint of sulfur, or he’d started to smell like sugar cookies.
She really loved when he smelled like sugar cookies.
“I’ve been here before,” she said over her shoulder to him as they stepped inside.
Christopher was a looming seven-foot-tall presence at her back, and the people filling more than half the tables in the café all turned at once to look. Hard not to at least glance up when a man of Christopher’s stature walked into a room. He was so used to that reaction, he ignored it. And the café’s patrons were so unbothered, they all went back to their various books and drinks and conversations, creating a quiet hum of background noise.
“Trust me,” she said. “Coffee is excellent. And the owner and her cat are great.”
“You know cats and I often have issues, right?” Christopher said, his voice deep and rumbly.
She loved his voice. “This cat’s a little different. But also, I did not know that, and now I’m amused because I think of dragons and cats as being very similar.”
“You do?” He looked so offended she wanted to laugh out loud.
“Sort of, yeah. Ungovernable. Independent. Likes to nap on large piles of stuff…”
He rolled his eyes, which did make her chuckle, and put a hand to her lower back to guide her to the counter, which made her tingle in a good way.
“Dragons are governable,” he murmured, “or no one would pay attention to the king.”
“Fair enough. And wouldn’t that just piss your father off.”
“It absolutely would.”
At the counter, the owner stepped up to the register. A woman whose age was impossible to judge because she was a witch but who looked in her mid-thirties. As Myra recalled, her name was Nina. And the huge gray Maine coon curled up on a stool that was much too small for him next to the register was aptly named Boo. Myra supposed he was a little ghost-like in the way he moved around silently and was a pretty pale shade of gray—even his blue eyes were pale—but he was too fluffy and cute to be a ghost. He was also amenable to scritches around the head most days, so she gave him some as she placed her and Christopher’s order.
Once they had their drinks and a blueberry muffin for her, they settled at a table near the back. The only person sitting nearby was a man so busy typing away at his laptop he ignored them. The rest of the patrons were too far away to overhear them—unless there were other shifters in the room, but Myra hadn’t spotted any—so the table gave them a nice place to talk in private.
And to conduct their business.
“I’m not sure meeting this particular person in a place you like to visit is a good idea,” Christopher murmured quietly.
“Afraid he’ll ruin it for me?”
“Or be able to find you here too easily.”
“I’m harder to find than that. Especially when I don’t want to be.”
“I find you,” he said, though there was a rumble of innuendo in that statement.
He did always seem able to find her no matter where she was. A lot of that had to do with excellent dragon eyesight and a heightened sense of smell. But Myra had been practicing hiding from dragon shifters for months now and gotten much better at it.
She still couldn’t hide from Christopher.
Not that she wanted to. In fact, she sort of enjoyed when he found her no matter where she was or what she was doing. So long as it didn’t screw up the job she was attempting. And he was pretty good about being more helpful than harmful when she was working. Especially now that they were working together more.
“You’re a special case,” she said. “Remember I’ve been living in the same city with people who would love to find me and either turn me over to the police or kill me. And yet here I am, still doing my thing.”
Her thing was stealing stuff. She was magically predisposed to it—meaning her magic was thief’s magic. And she was very good at stealing things. Even without magic she had spent years honing her skills. In fact, stealing things was exactly what had gotten her in trouble with the dragon king in the first place. But since that led to her meeting Christopher, she had trouble thinking of that as one of her biggest life mistakes anymore—even if it had felt that way at the time. Still a mistake, because she’d gotten caught. But not one she regretted anymore.
Helped that the dragon king had laid off lately. Lot easier to date the dragon king’s son when the dragon king wasn’t trying to get you killed.
“Besides,” she said, “this isn’t the first time I’ve done business here. It’ll be fine.”
Christopher gave her a look.
She shrugged. “The owner is a witch. Things here run more smoothly than they might in another coffee shop. And people that aren’t welcome tend to…forget about the place. I’m not saying bad people can’t or don’t walk in here. But I am saying they don’t often come back once they do.”
Christopher gave the woman behind the counter an assessing look and then nodded. “Okay then. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
“Honestly? I wasn’t sure how you’d react to a witch.”
“Her familiar should have been your bigger worry. Witches and dragons actually can get along.”
“Hey, Boo didn’t even yowl at you. He completely ignored you, in fact.”
“He did, didn’t he.” Another of his assessing looks.
She nudged his shoulder. “Head back in the meeting.”
She didn’t want him to inadvertently cause trouble for Nina. Not that he ever would on purpose. He had a thing about damsels in distress and helping them even at a cost to himself—which was adorable and sweet actually—so she knew he wouldn’t do anything to harm Nina or her business. His expression said he’d be interested in coming back here, though, maybe turning Nina into an ally. Which would be great on the one hand. Nina would be a good ally. But also, where Christopher went, so did his father, and Myra did not want the dragon king to know about this place.
Christopher glanced at her, his expression difficult to read, but then nodded and said, “When is he due?”
“Now.” She nodded at the door as the bell over it chimed and a very ordinary looking human man walked in.
He was average height, brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt under a zip-up hoodie with the hood down. His age was hard to judge, somewhere in his middle years, probably late-thirties, early-forties. He looked perfectly harmless. A good disguise for someone who was anything but harmless.
The man glanced around, spotted them, and started toward the back of the café. Paused, then returned to the counter to order a drink.
Hm. Myra would give him that. Better and smarter to be a good customer. Doing business in a place like this and not ordering was rude. Also, Myra liked that both Nina and Boo would be able to take his measure directly. That would ensure their safety later on.
It wasn’t so much that Doug was dangerous himself, though he was. It was more the people he worked with, the people who counted on him to…clean things up. They were the dangerous ones, the stupid ones, the careless ones. They were the people who would hire someone like Doug to fix their mess so they never had to suffer, while the people they harmed were quietly taken care of. And not in a good way.
Doug didn’t always eliminate people. Sometimes he blackmailed and bribed them to make them go away. Sometimes he did other negotiations or jobs to make a problem no longer a problem. Sometimes he did just quietly killed people. He wasn’t particular about it and he wasn’t emotional about it. He did his job, fixed problems for his clients, got paid well for it, and carried on with his life.
Under normal circumstances, Myra would never work with someone like Doug. She might end up one of Doug’s targets—though so far, she’d managed to avoid that. She typically stole things from people who actually had so much they didn’t realize the things she took were even missing. These days anyway. And sometimes she stole for good reasons—returning items to rightful owners, that kind of thing. Most of the time, though, it was just the challenge of the theft. More than the actual thing she stole, if it was a tough job, an impossible job, she found it hard to resist.
Which was what got her into trouble with the dragon king in the first place. Took a bet she shouldn’t have. Live and learn.
At any rate, she’d managed to carry on with an entire lifetime of stealing without ever getting on the bad side of someone who would hire someone like Doug. So she wouldn’t ordinarily go out of her way to meet with someone like Doug. Especially Doug in particular. His reputation proceeded him.
But in this particular situation, their goals actually aligned.
Doug gave Nina a casual smile and nod, he did not attempt to pet Boo—which Myra thought might be a good thing—and then he carried his hot mug across the café to join Myra and Christopher. Myra watched him approach but also flicked a glance at Nina. The witch was watching Doug, her eyes narrowed, and she murmured something to Boo.
Good. She’d clocked him. That ensured the people here would be safe should Doug ever come back for more nefarious reasons.
It occurred to Myra as Doug took his seat that having this meeting here might mean she got herself banned for bringing someone like Doug into the café. That would suck. But she’d understand. She’d still have arranged this meeting here. Because she knew it was the safest place around to do this.
Doug gave them each a nod. “Myra. Your highness.”
Christopher flinched slightly and shook his head. “Christopher is fine.”
Doug nodded again. Sipped his coffee.
There were no pictures of the royal family anywhere. Not on the internet, not with the press who absolutely adored everything dragon shifter. So Doug didn’t know Christopher was one of the dragon king’s sons because he’d seen a picture of him. He knew from some other time they’d encountered each other. Christopher hadn’t come clean about that past meeting yet. But if she knew her dragon shifter prince, it probably had something to do with a damsel in distress, and Christopher was low level embarrassed to discuss it. He was such a softy. For a fire-breathing dragon.
“She says the heirloom is still with him,” Doug said, getting right down to business. “Did something go wrong?”
Myra grinned. “You said she needed this done…quietly. Well, we did this quietly. And in a way that she’ll have the satisfaction of getting her grandmother’s heirloom back from her ex, while he’ll never know it’s missing, so he won’t go to court or send someone to arrest her. Win-win as they say.”
Doug took another sip of his coffee. Black. Dark. Smelled good and strong across the table. Myra preferred her sweet and milky coffee, but she appreciated a good black coffee.
“You have it then?” He looked so doubtful Myra was offended.
“Are you good at your job?” she asked.
“The best.”
“Yeah. Well so am I.”
“Then where is it?”
Christopher lifted the backpack he’d set under the table onto his lap, then went back to sipping his tea. He liked coffee but he tended toward tea when given a choice.
Doug’s gaze flicked to the backpack. Then he stared at Myra. “I’m impressed.”
“You should be.”
The job hadn’t been an easy one. Recovering the heirloom, which turned out to be a handmade wooden box with two silver chalices inside, had been complicated by the fact that Doug specified the ex-husband couldn’t know the box was missing. That it would be dangerous to his client if the ex discovered the box gone.
That had, of course, hit Christopher right in his soft spot. Hit Myra, too. She might be picking up Christopher’s penchant for wanting to rescue people. Little inconvenient, but not a first.
To keep the ex-husband in the dark, they’d had to get replicas made that would pass muster with the husband for…well, forever if necessary. Usually, when Myra put replicas in place, the fakes only had to pass for a few days, sometimes only a few hours. Just long enough for her to get the real object away and safely hidden or sold. The forgeries being discovered was usually part of the plan. The possessor of a “real” artifact or art piece typically wanted people to know it was real, and that was impossible if everyone still believed the “real” version was in a museum or gallery or someone else’s collection.
People’s egos—the people who bought stolen goods—were big, and they liked others to know what they had.
Myra didn’t normally care about that part. She stole things for the challenge, and then either sold them, kept them, or replaced them a few weeks later. Depended on what she’d taken and why she’d taken it. Selling valuable items ensured she never had to worry about money, but it was also the more irritatingly complicated part of her career.
Until Christopher, Myra had never really worked for others. She stole what she wanted, when she wanted, for her own reasons. Then she worked with someone afterward to sell the loot.
Now, though, Christopher had decided to start helping people in more direct ways. Often those ways involved less than legal activities. And she was very good at the theft part of those activities. She still didn’t consider that she was working for clients so much as she was working with Christopher. A technicality that she pretended made all the difference.
This had been one of those jobs were Christopher wanted to help the wife. A damsel in distress who just wanted her grandmother’s heirloom back from a bastard of an ex. Doug was a middle man, the person the wife had originally hired. But because fixing her situation required some nuance and burglary skills, he’d turned to experts.
Doug nodded at the black backpack. “Can I see?”
Christopher opened the zip and tilted the bag so Doug could see inside. He didn’t hand the bag to Doug, yet, though.
Doug nodded, his brows raised as he glanced at her. “Looks authentic. I can depend on this not being the replica?”
“You can.” She smiled. “The wife will know the difference. There’s a very tiny flaw worked into the real set of chalices that isn’t in the replica. A sort of…artist signature that you’d have to know about to even notice. I had my guy leave that out. The ex doesn’t know about the flaw. He won’t spot the fake.”
One of the most important parts of her job was the research. And because this job involved someone like Doug, she had researched the shit out of this case. Every single part of it.
“You’re certain?”
“I’m certain.” She leaned back in her seat, cradling her mug, waiting for Doug to decide if he believed her or not. He didn’t trust her, of course. She wouldn’t trust her either if she were Doug. Just like she didn’t trust him. But they were both professionals.
“Fine.” Doug pulled out his cellphone and punched in some things. He spent a few minutes, tapping at the screen, then nodded and looked up. “Money’s been transferred. Your guy should be seeing it any moment.
They waited until Christopher’s cellphone dinged. He checked the screen, also nodded, then handed the black backpack over to Doug without a word.
Their “guy” Jeffry would already be transferring the money to several different accounts so it couldn’t be snatched back. They might require a certain level of professional trust here, but they also weren’t stupid.
“My client will be delighted,” Doug said. The bell over the door rang and Myra looked up.
To see the ex-husband walking into the café.
***
Christopher showed no outward sign of reacting to the husband walking into the café, but Myra felt him tense beside her. She stared hard at Doug as his real client walked toward them.
The ex-husband’s name was Marshall Amato, and he was one of the wealthy assholes that Myra loved to steal from. The kind of careless mess of a human who never suffered consequences for his actions. His ex-wife, Una Thurgood, had been lucky to get out of the abusive marriage. But not lucky enough to get out with anything she’d brought into the marriage. Including her grandmother’s heirloom. Amato had the lawyers, the money, and the connections to make her life shit if she didn’t do as he wanted. The divorce had been her idea, but he’d dictated the terms. And left Una destitute.
Which was how Christopher and Myra knew she hadn’t had the money to pay for someone like Doug.
That was also why they’d taken this job.
Amato stalked toward them in his crisp designer pants and polo shirt, looking like he’d just stepped off a yacht. Thick brown hair, sun-tanned skin, a narrow jaw and thick lips. Myra supposed he was probably handsome to some people. She found him slimy. He whipped off his designer sunglasses when he reached the table and sneered at them.
She raised her brows at the look. Christopher’s expression never changed. He also didn’t look up and acknowledge Amato. He and Doug were too busy having a staring contest.
So she took the lead with Amato. “Fancy seeing you here,” she said with a grin and lifted her coffee mug. “You should get a drink if you’re going to join us. Rude not to.”
“Why the fuck would I care about that?” He sat next to Doug and took the black backpack when Doug handed it to him. He checked on the contents, then smirked at them. “You really think I wouldn’t have noticed the swap?”
“No,” Myra said. “I don’t think you would have noticed the swap. If you hadn’t arranged it.”
Amato’s left eye twitched.
“But what I’d like to know is, why? Why arrange to have something you already own stolen and frame your ex for it?”
“This was the only thing from the marriage she wanted. And it’s mine. She can’t have it.”
“That…doesn’t answer my question.”
“And I’m not going to either.”
“I will, then,” Christopher said, though he was still staring at Doug. “You suspected the wife you left destitute had hired someone to retrieve her heirloom. You went to Doug to fix the problem once and for all. But you wanted to see if the theft could actually be carried out first. Because you’re arrogant and an idiot.”
Amato started to rise at that insult. Doug set a hand to his arm and the man settled. Doug and Christopher had not once stopped staring at each other through this.
“You were even willing to pretend to pay us, to make it look like all this was on the up and up. You intended on holding the failure over your ex-wife’s head as Doug killed her. A little salt in the wounds for her betrayal. Because she left you and no one leaves you, right, Marshall? No one betrays you.”
Christopher’s voice remained even during the recitation. Amato, on the other hand, got redder and redder and he looked like he was about to explode. Myra sipped her coffee, enjoying the show.
“Your problem, you see, Marshall,” Christopher continued, “is that you assumed everyone is like you. Motivated by greed and money and power. You assumed your ex would hit up her wealthy uncle for the money to pay us. You assumed Doug would do as he was told because you paid him. You assumed we’d do what you expected because there was money involved.” Christopher finally shifted his gaze to Amato. “And you were wrong.”
Amato slammed his hand on the table. This made the writer at the nearby table look up from his laptop, his eyes wide. Nina started to come around the counter, but Myra met her gaze and gave a small headshake. Nina remained out from behind the counter, but she stayed by Boo, watching the situation.
“You’re the idiot,” Amato said, his voice low and guttural. “And now that I have proof my ex was trying to steal from me, I’ll have her and you all thrown in jail. I’ll let her suffer there for a while before I have her killed, too. And her fucking uncle won’t be able to do anything about it. I have proof.” He raised the bag.
Myra blinked at him. “Of what, exactly?”
He glared at her. “Theft. That my ex-wife hired thieves to take my property. Doug recorded your entire conversation. I heard it.”
“The property that is still in your home?” Myra said. “Or the property that, even as we speak, her uncle is retrieving after the court order that returns the heirloom to its rightful owner?”
Amato glared at Doug. “Did you fall for a fake? What the hell is going on? I thought you were a fixer? What the fuck?” He dug into the bag and pulled out the wooden box, flipping open the lid to investigate the silver chalices.
They were lovely pieces, engraved with swirling lines that looked like climbing ivy dotted with bundles of grapes. Each base was a solid circle, the stems narrow, the cups shaped to hold a significant amount of wine.
The little flaw in the design, the original artist’s signature, appeared in one of the bundles of grapes near the base of the chalice, one single grape compressed into a quarter moon-shape instead of being a full circle. The flaw was in slightly different places on each cup, and very subtle in the silver etchings. But there if you knew what to look for.
Amato did not know what to look for.
Which was a shame. Since if he did know what to look for, he’d know he was holding the real chalices. And if he actually knew the history of the heirloom he’d stolen from his ex-wife, he’d understand why he shouldn’t have opened the box and taken out the chalices. He certainly wouldn’t have been studying them with his nose right against the silver. Definitely wouldn’t have let his bare skin come into contact for that long with something made with magic.
If he’d ever had any idea what he’d actually had in his possession, he’d have realized he’d just poisoned himself by holding the real chalices.
Live and learn. Or in this case, he wouldn’t live for much longer.
Doug was still staring at Christopher. “They’re bluffing,” he said to Amato. “That’s the real heirloom.” Doug half smiled, a strangely spooky expression. “Your ex will be getting a visit from the police within the hour.”
“And my money?” Amato said.
“Should be clawed back and in your account in the next fifteen minutes.”
Myra resisted laughing. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. That money was long gone from the original account it had been wired to. But there was a lot of lying going on at that table. So she kept her amusement to herself.
“The video of the thieves?” Amato said with a snarl. “The recording you just made?”
“Already with the police,” Doug assured.
“What happens when you die?” Myra asked casually. “All your stuff? Who gets it?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Amato said, trying to look smug but also flicking a worried glance at Doug.
“His ex-wife is still in the will to inherit everything,” Christopher answered Myra’s question—she already knew the answer, but she was enjoying watching Amato’s confusion. “Prenup says he can’t change the will. Her uncle ensured that part. Which means there’s no way for him to avoid Una getting it all if he dies before her. So she needs to die before he does.”
“Lot of smart talk for people about to go down for grand larceny. This heirloom is worth a fortune.”
“You have no idea,” Myra murmured.
“You should leave now,” Doug said, his attention still on Christopher. “You don’t want to be here with that when the police arrive.”
“What if they get away?”
“They won’t,” Doug said. “You hired a fixer. Trust that I will fix things.”
Amato smirked at them, closed the chalices back into the box and stuffed the whole thing back into the backpack. He slipped his sunglasses back on his face and stalked out of the coffee shop. Nina had the door open for him, giving him a falsely friendly nod as he walked out.
Having not actually touched anything inside the café.
Still, Nina came over with a clothe and some cleaner and cleaned the table and chair where Amato had been sitting. “He didn’t set the chalice on the table, right?” she asked Myra.
“He did not,” Myra assured. “And he didn’t touch anything after he’d handled it.”
Nina nodded, her attention on the table. “Never thought to see something like that in here.”
Chalices of Destiny were very rare. Most people didn’t survive long after coming into their possession. Unless they knew what they were doing.
Nina waved a hand over the table after she’d cleaned it with ordinary cleaners. A little blue glow covered the table, the chair, before fading away. Then she nodded. “There we go. All clean.” She smiled at them. “Do you need more drinks? Anything to eat?”
“I would love another coffee, please,” Myra said.
Christopher and Doug just shook their heads. They were still staring at each other.
Nina raised her brows at Myra. Myra shrugged. Men. What could you do?
Nina returned to the counter to make Myra’s coffee and Myra watched the two men’s staring contest quietly for a while.
When she was certain Amato was gone and not coming back, she said, “Una’s uncle is a scary man.”
Doug finally looked away from Christopher to smile at her. “He didn’t take kindly to the way his niece was treated.”
“Why didn’t he just have you kill Amato outright?” Myra asked. “Why all this?” She waved her hand at the elaborate ruse they’d just perpetrated to get Amato to kill himself by handling magically poisoned chalices.
“He thought the punishment fit the crime,” Doug said. “Una was always too…timid to fight back. Even when Amato was abusing her, she rarely discussed leaving. Probably why it blinded-sided Amato when she did finally leave. She knew what the chalices were, though, and was afraid Amato would figure it out and use them to harm people. Wanted them back to keep them safe. Amato never realized she was a sorceress. Probably for the best.”
“Absolutely.” Myra nodded. She didn’t always have the best of experiences with sorcerers but in this case, she’d been happy to help play out the elaborate ruse. Una wasn’t the kind of sorceress who used her skills for…well, much of anything. Like Myra, she’d inherited her powers from a relative, in Una’s case, her grandmother. And unlike Myra, she’d decided to forgo following in her grandmother’s footsteps.
Which was why Amato hadn’t known what she was.
Una’s uncle, however, had pursued the sorcerer path, like his mother, and that made him a powerful enemy for Amato. Amato had no idea what he was getting into, first marrying Una and then treating her so poorly. Hiring Doug only proved how ruthless and vindictive Una’s uncle was.
The only reason Christopher had agreed to involve their team in this was because of Una herself. That old damsel in distress soft spot. If it had just been the uncle, they probably would have avoided the whole mess.
“So we’re done here, then,” Christopher said. “We have our money. You’ve succeeded in killing your target without him even knowing he’s dead. I assume after she inherits everything, Una will find a safe spot to lock away those chalices.”
There was a soft warning in Christopher’s voice. Not so much a threat as an encouragement to do as he suggested.
“She will. Doesn’t want them falling into the wrong hands.” Doug shrugged. “Not even her uncle’s.”
Give her uncle was vicious enough to set up this level of revenge, yeah, probably best for him not to have a set of Destiny Chalices at his disposal.
Doug considered Myra for a moment and said, “You lied well. I wasn’t expecting that. Almost believed you.”
She grinned, but she didn’t otherwise comment.
Doug let his many questions—questions she could see he wanted to ask—go and said instead, “My client would like to add a…tip to the money you got from Amato. That’ll be in your account…” He looked at his cellphone screen. “Ah. Should be there now.” He looked up, smiling. “I assume it’s already being moved as well.”
Christopher smiled tightly but didn’t confirm.
Doug tipped his head. “Been a pleasure. Hopefully, we never meet again.”
They watched him leave the café, watched until he’d disappeared into the crowded pedestrian traffic passing by the front windows.
“That was interesting,” she said. “Kinda fun and scary at the same time.” She turned in her chair to more fully face Christopher and caught the writer at the next table watching them. She raised her brows at him. “We better not end up in a book.”
He quickly looked back down at his laptop, but Myra got the feeling some of this was definitely going into a novel. She couldn’t really blame him. It had been pretty captivating stuff.
“I think we should avoid Una’s uncle,” she said to Christopher. “And Doug. I could do without working with Doug again.”
“Or have him working against us.”
“That.” Myra finished her coffee. Then bumped her shoulder against Christopher’s arm. “Told you this place was perfect for this. Even got the table and chairs magically sterilized.”
“You were right.”
“Wait, say that again.” She tilted her head to one side, putting her ear closer to him. “Repeat that please.”
His deep chuckle made her stomach tighten and a thick, delicious warmth spread through her.
“Let’s go check on the others, and all that money. Then…pizza? My treat.”
“So long as it’s thin crust, I’m in.”
They bickered about the pros and cons of thick crust on the way out, but Myra stopped long enough to thank Nina. “Sorry about bringing trouble into the café,” she said. “But I knew we’d be safe doing…that here.”
“Fair enough. No one got hurt. You bought a lot of coffee. And I just checked my bank account and there’s a sizable…tip that’s been added. So, I guess I should say, thank you.”
Myra gave Boo a little scritch on the head, and then headed out with Christopher. On the sidewalk, she said, “You arranged the tip for Nina?”
“Figured it was the least we could do. Wasn’t entirely sure how that would turn out.”
“You are a big old softy,” she said and jumped up into his arms.
He caught her without missing a beat. “I could be persuaded to be…harder later.”
The not-so-subtle innuendo made her entire body warm. Christopher had a way of doing that to her. And she absolutely loved it.
Loved even more when his dragon wings erupted from his back and he launched into the sky, flying them back to their people, their rewards, and later, to their own private celebration. The perfect way to end a good con.
***
Thanks for reading MYRA AND CHRISTOPHER AT THE CAFE. I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like your own personal eBook copy of this story, you can find it for sale here. You can also peruse the previous Café stories that are individually available for sale here. And don’t forget to check back on April 15th for the next Free story from The Café!
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MYRA AND CHRISTOPHER AT THE CAFE Copyright © 2025 Kat Simons
All Rights Reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.