Chapter 6
793 Words
Chapter 6By sunset I was ready to roll. I didn’twant another run-in with GI Jane, but if she came at me again, Iwould get her.
I pulled my black leather jacket overthe shoulder holster. I had the Smith & Wesson on me, freshlyloaded with gleaming silver bullets. I wasn’t going to take chanceswith a smaller gun. At my back I had my SIG, and my knife was in itsthigh sheath.
Still, I felt naked. I wondered if itwould look suspicious if I drove around with the carbine on my backagain, but I decided against it. The S&W would pack the rightkind of punch, and the carbine hadn’t helped the night before.
I’d applied makeup around my eye andon my jaw to cover up the yellowish smudge the bruises had gone downto, but it looked wrong. The color was wrong for my skin tone, so Iwashed it off again. I didn’t really care what I looked like, but Ididn’t want to look like I was trying to cover something up.
My phone vibrated in my pocket as Iwalked out the door.
“The reporter was here again today.”Ruben’s gravelly voice scraped through the speaker.
“You sure she doesn’t just want towrite a review of your excellent accounting skills?”
Ruben’s firm had a good name, and hewas charming enough to fool people who didn’t know the truth.Reporters fell into the “ignorant” bracket – in spite of alltheir research, and they ended up empty-handed almost every time.
“This one’s not letting go. Shekeeps coming by after hours, and she won’t listen when I tell herthe office is closed.”
“Well, you are in the businessof handling accounts for some vampires. Maybe it’s about that. ButI’ll watch out,” I said. I slid one leg over my bike andstraddled it. “I’ll come in in about an hour.”
I hung up before he could argue withme. This was business, after all. He’d pointed Jennifer in mydirection, and he’d pay me for my time.
Joel was waiting for me in his opengarage when I pulled in.
“What happened to you?” he askedthe moment I took my helmet off. Like my sister, he knew that Ihealed up fast, and he was doing the math. I wondered if I shouldhave covered up after all.
“Someone’s on my trail,” Iadmitted.
He looked concerned and lifted his handto my face. His fingers brushed the skin under my eye, sending smalljolts of electricity through my face. Maybe in a different lifesomething more could have happened between us.
“It’s nothing. Just looks bad,” Isaid, leaning back so he wouldn’t touch me anymore.
“You need to up your training skillsif you’re going to be fighting your victims like this.”
“It wasn’t a victim. She saidsomething about me getting away with who I am, but to be honest, Iwas getting beaten up too much to follow the conversation.”
“She?”
I nodded. “I don’t know who she is,but she’s a damn good fighter.”
Joel shook his head and turned towardthe door, expecting me to follow. I did.
“You’re going to back yourself intoa corner one of these days,” he said over his shoulder.
I shrugged, but he couldn’t see it aswe stepped into the stairwell.
The place looked neater than it had thenight before, and I wondered if he had domestic help that he let downhere once in a while. I didn’t trust anyone with my equipment, butmaybe he had found someone he could rely on. To each his own. Trustin general wasn’t my strong suit.
Joel sat down in front of his computer.The bluish light fell on his face and colored his skin, making himseem bruised, like me.
“I didn’t get much for you. Thesystem is still a tough one to crack. Whatever they’re using, it’stop of the line. My software could only do so much.”
“I didn’t know you could beoutsmarted,” I teased. Joel prided himself on his ability to getinto any system in the world if he wanted to.
“Are you trying to be funny?” heasked. “Because you’re not.”
His fingers clacked on the keys, andwindows popped open on the screen.
“Did you get the e-mail I forwardedto you?” I asked.
“I printed it out. It’s still inthe rack,” he said, not looking at me.
I walked over to the corner where hisprinters and scanners were set up and took the pages out of theprinting tray. I flipped through them.
“You don’t usually take jobs onpersonally,” he said. He was talking about the fact that I’d senthim the details from my home e-mail and not from work.
“I’m working on asearch-and-rescue. Ruben thinks he’s being funny.”
“Nice of you to give back to thecommunity once in a while.”
“Bite me.”
Joel snickered. “The guy your socialsecurity number brought up – his name’s O’Neill.”
“What?”
I walked over to him. O’Neill was acommon surname, but this kind of coincidence didn’t just happen.Not in Westham. Not to me. I bent over Joel’s shoulder and lookedat the screen.
“Connor O’Neill, 442 Caldwell,Westham Hills,” Joel read out loud. “There’s a secondaryaddress listed.”
I scrunched the edge of the paper I washolding, and it crackled in my fist. “Thirteen Mulberry Street?”
Joel scrolled down. “Yes, actually.How did you—?”
I held up the papers in my hand. Joellooked at them, and my eyes fell on the screen where the photoattached to his findings had opened.
The same photo was on the papers in myhand.
Ruben and Jennifer were after the sameguy.
Shit.
- Writer
