Jackal of All Trades - Vivienne Savage

Chapter One

Nadir

The Starbucks line wrapped all the way to the door and out onto the sidewalk, but I endured it anyway to fetch my client’s favorite, an Iced Caramel Cloud Macchiato. My dedication to the job had nothing to do with the way she turned those big brown eyes on me, or how her dimpled cheeks lit my soul full of joy.

All right. It did. But I also needed to mainline caffeine if I was going to make it through the rest of the shift. Each of us worked twelve hours off and on, one of us on duty while the other slept or enjoyed their slice of twelve-hour freedom. Not that I had much to enjoy.

Sometimes I wondered if I did something wrong in a previous incarnation to deserve the current state of my love life. Despite all the time that passed since my retirement from the U.S. Marines, I spent most of my free time away from work sitting at home on the couch with a book.

My friends suggested dating to pass the time and recommended a load of online sites. Juni even wrote my Tinder profile, claiming women loved a witty guy with a sense of humor.

No good. Tinder, Match.com, Grindr—all that shit was useless to me. I swiped and I matched and I connected with dozens of people. Sometimes we went out on a date, but usually I got ghosted.

Not a spark. Not an ounce of connection.

The shit was hopeless.

A month ago for New Year’s Eve, an acquaintance set me up on a blind date that ended in failure when we returned to her place, and her on-again/off-again boyfriend was waiting on the couch in the dark for her. I was ready to beat the dude’s ass, but she flew into his arms. Later, my pal admitted that he’d hoped spending time with me would be enough to deter the woman from going back to her creepy ex.

Guess not.

Two people exited the Starbucks, drinks and brown sacks in hand. The line moved at last, allowing me to enter off the sidewalk.

Two steps closer. Literally.

Certain it would be a while before I made it to the front of the line, I slid my phone off the clip attached to my belt and checked into my personal e-mail account. The amount of confidential client data filtering into the inbox dedicated to my career meant I held off on reading those until I was in a secure location without nosy assholes standing shoulder to shoulder with me for burnt coffee beans.

Something about the addictive quality of those burnt coffee beans made me suspect the baristas mixed cocaine into the cream. It was a habit I couldn’t quit.

A group of businessmen in suits stood in front of me, then two cops squeezed in when the line shrank a little more. I eased toward the front, absorbed in a group text conversation between my closest friends.

Ian, our leader, our closest pal, and the guy who signed my paychecks, was becoming a father for the first time. Biologically, that is. He had one hell of an awesome little girl through marriage, but the pregnancy of a mate was an extra special occasion for shifters. What we craved more than a connection with a forever mate was to spread our genes and procreate.

Our female friends planned to throw a baby shower for Leigh, since she’d missed out on the opportunity while pregnant with her older daughter. This time around, all the ladies wanted to spoil her rotten.

The text messages I’d missed while briskly walking downstairs from their residential building invited me to join the women, because I’d somehow been relegated to the position of Gay Friend.

First of all, I wasn’t gay. I viewed life through an equal opportunity sort of lens that meant no one was off limits. That should have given me twice the dating pool, but the sad truth was I’d merely experienced twice the dating failure.

Me: I’m not even gay. Juni is the official Gay Friend.

Sasha: I told Leigh that, but she says your sense of style meets our stereotype quota.

Me: Fine. I’ll be there. Add it to my calendar, otherwise I’ll fuck off and forget.

That was a damn lie. I’d never forget Leigh’s baby shower.

Sasha: Also, why are you capitalizing Gay Friend?

Me: Visit TV Tropes to look it up, then hit me back in six hours.

Eventually, I reached the front of the coffee line and rattled off three orders. Soon as I had our drinks, I hauled ass back to