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“Nice buns.”
“Behave.” I swiped my SmartBoy at the register, it trilled as the payment cleared, and I turned to face Regan; I was holding a tray with coffees and cinnamon buns. “I didn’t meet you here just to flirt.”
“Just to flirt?” He grinned. “That doesn’t mean we can’t flirt at all, right?”
I couldn’t help but return the smile as I sat. “I thought you wanted to talk business?” I handed him his food and drink. “This isn’t a bar.”
“The whiskey I promised you can wait.” He lifted his coffee cup to declare a toast. “For now, I’m happy enjoying your buns.” He laughed. “And don’t roll your eyes.”
I took a sip of my own coffee; I was in desperate need of the stimulating brew after the late night yesterday and early morning today; quite why I’d agreed to meet Regan at the goddamned crack I didn’t know. Still, the copious amounts of sugar and coffee would help. Hopefully.
“How’s your missing artwork case going?”
“Terrible,” I said. I gestured to my face; I’d already told Regan about what had happened with the hitman, although I hadn’t talked too much about Graves. I didn’t want to cry in front of him. “I’ve only got one lead, but it must be important; there’s been two attempts on my life since the day I took on the case.”
“That’s a good thing?”
I shrugged. As much as I wanted to trust him, maybe it was the handsome face, I couldn’t give him too much info on the Delartes stuff; there was so very little for me to hold onto at the moment and I couldn’t risk my meagre leads being decimated by a loose tongue. Even his. I suddenly thought about kissing him, his lips; I pushed the thought away and tried to focus on the case.
“You’ll get there; I’ll help.”
“Yeah.” All I knew was that a con artist named The Victor had apparently hired two people to kill me, and that they’d arrived on Space Station Delta about a year ago and undertaken a face change. Regan had continued to talk, something about a famous art heist on Earth a long time ago, but my brain tuned him out; I could hear a news report playing through the café’s sound system. Another murder by the copycat killer.
“Are you even listening to me?” Regan’s hand touched my arm. It was electric.
“Yeah.” I needed to contact Gary Emmerson to buy a fake ID from him, one that would allow me to get into the hospital databases. That was my only real lead at the moment. I looked up at him, into his eyes. “Your mother’s out of her coma by the way; in fact, I couldn’t even tell she’d been attacked. Healthy as a bean.”
“Oh,” he said. He didn’t smile and I could sense some melancholy behind his eyes. “She didn’t even feel the need to tell me she’d been hurt in first place, nevermind that she was better. I shouldn’t have expected any more from her.”
“You don’t have the best relationship with her.”
“No,” he laughed, and it wasn’t a happy laugh. “You probably know more about her than I do.”
“I doubt it,” I said. I took a bite out of my bun. “I’ve probably seen the worst side of her. You grew up with her.”
“I rarely saw her,” said Regan. He sighed and I watched as he pushed his feelings down below the surface. “Given what you told me, it’s a little strange that she’s recovered so quickly, but I’m glad she’s okay.” His expression turned serious. “Is that why you agreed to meet me again? To get your reward for finding me?”
“Partially,” I said. I wasn’t going to lie to him. “I genuinely wanted to see you. As much as we clashed the last time we met, I still enjoyed being around you.” I needed to remember Queenie and not flirt too much but I couldn’t help myself; I couldn’t stop thinking about his tongue and his lips. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to handcuff you this time.” I tried to laugh but it came out a little stilted and awkward. “I promise.”
“Oh, please, don’t promise!” Regan winked as he lifted his cup to his mouth; his playfulness had returned. “Might need them later.” The edges of his lips lifted either side of the rim.
“I might need to remind you that I’m seeing someone.”
“Elizabeth Decker, yeah?”
I nodded. “Queenie.”
“That’s her nickname? I don’t understand it.”
“Elizabeth? Queen Elizabeth of Great Britain and Northern Ireland? Both the first and second. Can’t remember if there was ever a third.”
“Sorry, I’m not well versed in Earth history.”
“Wow.” I took a sip of coffee. I’d forgotten just how young Regan actually was. Compared to me at least. Plus, it didn’t help that I was missing several years of my life due to the accident with the time vortex. “She insisted on the name when we met, and I try to treat her like one.”
“If I remember rightly,” he broke a piece from his bun with his fingers “aren’t the monarchy known for getting beheaded?” He threw the confection into this mouth and smiled.
“I hope not!”
“I’m only kidding, you know that.” He broke off another piece of cinnamon bun. “How did you two meet anyway?”
“You really wanna know?”
“Yeah, of course,” said Regan. He picked up his cup and sipped. “It’s not like I’m jealous.” His peaked over the top of the drink. “Well, I am a little jealous,” he said with smile.
“I’m very lucky to have Queenie,” I said, trying to deflect the compliment. I took another bite out of the bun and I could feel my teeth rotting away from the sugar as I chewed; it was somehow sweeter than my coffee and I took my coffee nearly all sugar. “Although, she’s mad at me right now.”
“She’s missing out on your company.”
“Stop it.” I smiled at the man. If I wasn’t seeing Queenie, I’d... “I kinda messed things up by coming home drunk.”
He placed his hands on mine and squeezed; they were a little sticky from his cinnamon bun, but I didn’t mind. His hands were warm, comforting. “Tell me how you met.”
“She sought me out,” I said. I retrieved a hand and took a drink of coffee. “I think it was five, maybe six months ago. She came banging on my office door early in the morning, and I am not a goddamned morning person, and hired me.”
“What was the case?” His hands broke away and he ripped away another piece of bun.
“Embezzlement. One of her employees was paying themselves an extra wage, spending credits left right and centre. But Queenie couldn’t prove anything, not directly. I spent a good few weeks tailing the guy. Spent a lot of time in close contact with Queenie too.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Just helping her comb through her paperwork. Sometimes with a bottle of wine. Or two. Maybe three, four.” I finished off my bun and took a gulp of coffee to wash it down. “I even stayed the night once or twice back in those days.”
“Did you catch the perp?”
I nodded. “Oh yes.”
“Why didn’t Queenie go straight to the police?”
“She needed some evidence for her insurer, and she was a little worried the cops would take too long to investigate and would be too lax with the evidence. Reports from a licensed private eye were good enough.”
He sipped at his drink. “How did you get together? Was it during the case?”
“Not really. I mean, we’d already slept together more than once at that point but, afterwards, after the arrest, she took me for a dinner to say thanks. It just kinda progressed from there and before long she was living with me. It was... it is... serious. I don’t really know why.”
“Why what? Why it’s serious?”
“I don’t know why she’s with me,” I said. I drained my cup. “A high-class, beautiful businesswoman from Sector Three... and then, there’s me, a bum from Sector Six.”
“Have you asked her?”
“What?”
“Have you asked her why she’s with you?” said Regan. “I mean, how else are you gonna know? Do you read minds?”
“I... er...”
“Exactly.” He emptied his own coffee. “You want another?”
I nodded and he stood, stretching; I tried not to stare as his physique as his midriff was briefly exposed, and I tried not stare at him and his buns as he walked to the counter, but I couldn’t help it; I ogled him. Part of me wished that Queenie wouldn’t come back to me, wouldn’t forgive me. But I couldn’t go back to the way things were, the way I used to be. For now, I could window shop but not touch.
I quickly looked away as he turned back to me; I didn’t want him to catch me staring.
He placed our coffees on the table and returned to his seat. “So... aren’t you going to ask why I asked you to meet?”
“To help you with your case,” I said. I added some extra sugar to my drink; the was no such thing as too sweet when it came to coffee. “You’ve either hit a dead end or cracked the case wide open; you wouldn’t be in touch with me otherwise.” I stirred my beverage.
“What if I just wanted to spend some time in your company?”
“Do you?”
“Well,” he grinned. “Yes, I do... but I didn’t want to disturb you without something more concrete. I also didn’t want to give you any excuse to bring me in to see my mother. And yes,” he said, “I have reached a bit of a dead end.” Regan reached into his trouser pockets and placed two small memory cards, one red, one black, on the table. “Evidence. Sort of.”
I picked up my coffee and drunk the hot, saccharine concoction as I waited for further explanation the other man.
“This one,” he tapped the red one, “is a copy of something of interest to you in particular.”
“The file you told me they had on me and my accident.” I instinctively reached out to grab it but Regan batted away my hand. I was curious, more than curious, why Emmett Greene and his goddamned insane cult were interested in me and how they’d found out about the accident, the one that Regan’s mother and Tribeca had covered up. It may only be another link proving the connection between Dionne Bex and the Church of the Third Encounter, but I had to know. “And the other?”
“A spreadsheet of Tribeca’s donations.” He lifted his cup and sipped. “Charitable donations to the Church and evidence against my mother.”
“Interesting.”
Regan smiled. “Very, but not enough proof to take down my mother.”
“And that’s why you contacted me.”
“You want to take her down too, right?”
“She’s powerful. And rich. You should already know exactly how resourceful she is.”
“You forget that I’m also rich and resourceful,” said Regan. “This,” he pointed to the black memory card, “is only the tip of the iceberg. I couldn’t get everything but...”
“No,” I said. I leant back in my chair. “I know what you’re thinking. And no. No way. No chance.”
“We’ll be quick. In and out.” The man leaned toward me with a mischievous expression on his face. “Plus, don’t you want to find out more about the file they have on you?”
“How do I know you didn’t give them the information? Maybe you and your mother are working together, and she gave them the file? Or maybe the file about me and my accident is all a ruse just to get me involved?”
“You’ll never find out if you don’t help me.” He smiled.
“I guess I don’t have any choice.” I couldn’t help but return a smile. “I’ll help you break into the Church of the Third Encounter.”