Extreme Prejudice

Chapter 3

3

With paperwork in hand, I pointed the Gray Ghost toward Phoenix. I debated whether to return to Winter Con or turn in Daniel Warren’s paperwork and get paid. The last few days, Sadie Levinson had been having a cow over Warren’s defaulted bail bond. I decided to drop off the body receipt and put her fears to rest.

The con would continue into the weekend, so I could go back tomorrow and with more money to spend on rare comics and maybe some Funko Pop figures. I’d had my eye on a Funko version of Negasonic Teenage Warhead from Deadpool.

But first, a change in attire was called for. I was not showing up at Assurity Bail Bonds in costume. Sadie already had a stick up her butt. I didn’t need her giving me s**t about being dressed as Wonder Woman when I captured Warren. So I pulled off the highway at Seventh Avenue and headed home.

I lived in a cozy house in Phoenix’s trendy Willo District, north of downtown along the Central Corridor. The neighborhood dated back to the 1930s. The homes were small but solid and tended to be on the pricey side.

My brother, Jake, who remodeled and flipped houses for a living, had acquired the two-bedroom, two-bath on the cheap after the housing bubble burst. He’d restored the hardwood floors, brought the wiring up to code, and installed Saltillo tile in the kitchen and dining area. I converted the spare room into workout space with an exercise station for strength training and a human-shaped punching bag for combat practice.

My decor could best be described as millennial Bohemian meets sci-fi/fantasy fangirl. Lots of bright colors and different textures throughout the house. Roy Lichtenstein prints and movie posters covered the walls, including one autographed by Gal Gadot. A bamboo bookshelf in the living room was filled with comics in plastic sleeves. A breakfront in the dining room displayed a carefully curated collection of action figures. It wasn’t the tidiest place, but it was clean. Mostly.

The best thing was that my boyfriend, Conor Doyle, lived only a few streets south of me. We alternated spending the night at each other’s houses, so the proximity was a real time-saver.

Once in my bedroom, I shimmied out of the Wonder Woman outfit and pulled on a Pink Trinkets concert T-shirt, cargo pants, and a well-worn pair of black Doc Martens—my preferred business attire.

For safety, I strapped on a ballistic vest emblazoned with the words “Bail Enforcement.” A tactical belt around my waist held my Taser in a holster on my right side, and a snub-nosed Rossi .357 revolver for backup nestled in an ankle holster. I hooked a walkie-talkie on the belt and slipped two sets of handcuffs in a thigh pocket.

A pair of my wraparound shades, fingerless leather gloves, and a black ball cap embroidered with the words Ballou Fugitive Recovery completed the ensemble. Time to rock and roll.

I opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water for the road, only to find there weren’t any left. I would’ve sworn there’d been at least a few last time I checked. I made a note to pick up another case on the way home.

As I walked out the door, my phone began playing a Flogging Molly’s “Drunken Lullabies”—Conor’s ringtone.

“Heard ya nicked that pedo Danny Warren,” he said in his Irish brogue. “Nice catch, love.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling a flush of embarrassment. Maybe Conor hadn’t heard how I was dressed.

“By the way, ya looked mighty deadly in your Super Girl getup.”

I chuckled. He was intentionally tweaking me with the misreference. “It’s Wonder Woman, ya dodgy bloke,” I replied in a poor imitation of his accent.

“So ya say, love. Wear it tonight, or I’ll remain unconvinced.”

I felt myself getting aroused thinking about getting him in bed, with or without the costume. Mostly without. “You’re on, mister,” I replied.

“We at your place or mine tonight?”

“Mine, if that’s all right. I’ve got paperwork and stuff to catch up on.”

“Ya know, this would be a lot easier if ya just moved in with me already. All this back and forth between houses is driving me mad.”

And with that, the passion escaped like air from a balloon. “We talked about this, Conor.” It came out more sternly than I intended.

“We’ve been dating for two and a half years. Don’t ya think it’s time we stop this sleepover madness and live together like normal people?”

“Normal?” I scoffed, trying to lighten the mood. “When’ve you ever known me to be normal?”

“You’re dodging the issue, love.” His voice stiffened. “Been wondering if ya really fancy me or if ya just want me for the occasional shag.”

Ouch! That one hurt. “I love you, Conor. Really, I do. It’s just…I like having my own space.”

“Ya want to hold on to your bungalow, fine. But for Christ’s sake, can’t we live under a single roof? After what that fucker Milo Volkov did last year—”

“Volkov’s dead. I killed him. Remember?”

“Aye, but not before he left that reporter’s body wrapped up in plastic on your doorstep.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“That ya can.” The silence between us stretched. “Maybe you’re just scared.”

“Scared? What’ve I got to be scared of?” I made sure my voice didn’t shake, even though he was hitting a little close to the mark.

“Scared of commitment, maybe. Not sure exactly.”

“I have to go. Sadie’s been shitting kittens over Daniel Warren. I have to bring her the body receipt.”

“Fine. I’ll see ya tonight.” He sounded hurt, which piled onto the guilt I was already feeling.

“See you then.” I felt like a heel. He was a sweet guy who treated me with respect and was great in the sack. So why did I resist moving in with him? Hell if I knew. But my gut was telling me not to, and I’d learned to trust it.

I hopped in the Gray Ghost and floored down Central Avenue with the windows open and Le Tigre playing full blast on the stereo.

Assurity Bail Bonds was wedged between an accounting firm and a temp staffing office on the second floor of the Arizona Center. Sadie Levinson had opened it a few years back when the touristy outdoor shopping mall was rebranding itself as a corporate business center downtown. Lately, management had been opening stores that catered more to year-round residents.

I parked in the adjacent garage and hustled along the sidewalk, past a smorgasbord of restaurants, clothing shops, and kiosks. Mothers at outdoor tables monitored their toddlers playing around a fountain that randomly shot streams of water from jets in the sidewalk. I jogged up the grand staircase near the movie theater, vaulting the steps two at a time.

A string of bells attached to Assurity’s doorframe jingled as I entered. The office consisted of a twenty-by-thirty-foot room with two stained oak desks, one on each side of the cream-colored room. Vertical filing cabinets lined the back wall. The other walls featured framed prints of paintings by Monet, Picasso, and Gaugin. The decor was professional if a bit sterile, making it feel more like an art gallery than a bail bond office.

Sadie Levinson sat at the desk to my left with two faux leather guest chairs in front. She was a slender woman in her forties with a short wedge haircut, red metallic frame glasses, and a no-nonsense expression on her face.

“You got Warren,” she said without looking up.

“Told you I would.” I unfolded the body receipt and handed it to her. She frowned and flattened out the folds as best she could.

“Is there a reason you were dressed up like a caped crusader?”

“Where’d you hear that?” When in doubt, play dumb.

Sadie shot me a don’t-bullshit-me look. “Word gets around.”

“Technically speaking, ‘caped crusader’ refers to Batman. I was cosplaying as Wonder Woman.”

Not even a chuckle. Tough crowd.

“I was at Winter Con when my skip tracer tracked him to the hotel.” I gave her a rundown of my impromptu capture of her prodigal client. “So what else do you have for me?” I asked as she wrote out a check for Warren’s bounty.

She pulled some files from the stack on the left side of her desk and handed them to me. “I got two more skips for you.”

“Just two? Come on, Sadie! How am I supposed to pay my team with two measly jobs? You giving jobs to other bounty hunters?”

She c****d her head with a look of superiority. “I pride myself on properly underwriting my clients so I don’t have to pay you to pick them up for failing to appear. If you need more work, go someplace else.”

We both knew she was one of the few bail bond agents who would hire me after my trans status was made public. I let the matter drop and thumbed through the files. “Tell me about these deadbeat clients of yours.”

“First one’s Robert Rossellini. You’ve picked him up before.”

I chuckled. “Conspiracy Bob! I love him. What’s our uber-paranoid buddy done now?”

“Charges are trespassing, causing a disturbance, and violating an order of protection by the office of the Arizona State Mine Inspector. Bail’s set at ten thousand dollars.”

“The mining inspector has a restraining order against Conspiracy Bob? What in the world for?”

Levinson shook her head. “Mr. Rossellini’s been haranguing the mine inspector’s staff. Some nonsense about mole people plotting the end of the world.”

My chuckle turned into an all-out belly laugh. “Jesus Christ on a surfboard, where’s he get this stuff?”

“I couldn’t begin to tell you. Just pick him up.”

“Bob’s bounty is chump change, but I’ll take him just for entertainment value.” I pulled up the next file. “Who’s this Pratt fellow?”

“Rudy Pratt. Charged with murder in the first degree in the death of a coworker. Bail’s set at two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”

“Now we’re talking. I can use twenty-five grand.” My bounty rate was ten percent of the bail amount. I flipped through the defendant’s application. “What’s your take on him?”

“No priors. His demeanor was rather subdued when I met with him. His wife has a bit of a mouth on her. He missed his evidentiary hearing yesterday. Judge wants him picked up and held until trial. I’ve left messages on his phone, with his wife, and his attorney but haven’t heard back.”

I stood up. “Okay, I’ll track him down.”

Sadie leveled her eyes to my chest. “Try not to take so long this time, okay? I want Pratt back in custody pronto. I prefer not to play Russian roulette with my business.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Oh, and do it dressed in street clothes and not as”—she made a hand gesture as she struggled for the words—“one of the Avengers.”

“The Avengers are from the Marvel universe. Wonder Wom—”

“Goodbye, Ms. Ballou.” She turned back to her computer and resumed typing.

I saluted with the client folders and walked out.

One of these days, I was going to get that woman to loosen up. Maybe take her out for drinks at Grumpy’s and help her get laid.

On second thought, who knew what she’d be like if she loosened up. Might be worse than she was now.