by Michael Todd
With a sigh, she dropped the papers on the counter. “This is fucking bullshit. This company sends me in, puts me in danger, and causes me to lose two teammates and still has the audacity to push for my results. Fuck them. And the worst part is that I’m doing this for the fucking money.”
Holly waved her fists in the air and growled as she brought them down to her face. “That’s kind of the definition of mercenary, Holly.”
She dropped her hands to her sides and turned her attention back to the data she’d collected. In her usual methodical way, she had taken samples from the plants, run a full battery of tests, and wrote down all the different compounds she could find. She had identified so many different foreign compounds since she had arrived there, she was glad she had them all straight in her documents. While she had an eidetic memory, that didn’t mean shit couldn’t get jumbled in her mind from time to time.
As she studied the information on the current plant, she realized that she had found three possibly redeemable attributes. One of them might work to increase energy. Another should work to increase alertness and awareness. And the third—one she had found several times—would most likely decrease or control a person’s appetite as well as burn fat without heavy physical exercise.
Holly stopped, blinked, and scowled at the samples. “Good to know. I risk my life and the life of my team for a God damned diet drink. People all over the world will be able to thank Aki and Trigger for their small waistlines and firm asses.”
She shook her head and continued to pull the data and compile everything she had found into a report until she was finally done with the first part of the job. She printed and checked the pages on the desk to ensure, as always, that she kept a copy for herself and slid them into a large envelope. As she placed it in a drawer, someone pounded loudly on her door.
It was unlikely that anyone would come to her apartment and she froze in place for a moment. Her heart thudding, she opened the other drawer of the desk and retrieved both her pistol and her mace. It was obvious her time in the Zoo had made her more than a little skittish.
Holly walked to the door and pressed the barrel of her gun against the wood, clicked the mace open, and rested her finger on the trigger. “Who is it?”
The door opened wide and Hickok batted her eyelashes as she stepped into the dark space in front of her. The large black man pushed the door shut and latched it before he sat on his stool once more. He folded his arms over his chest and nodded down a short hallway toward a beaded curtain. She blinked to force her eyes to adjust to the lack of light in the space and saluted him, but he simply narrowed his eyes at her as if he found her familiar but couldn’t place her. He didn’t say a word, though, and left her to find her own way in.
Luckily for her, she had been there dozens of times, even if they didn’t recognize her. She pushed the beaded curtain aside quietly and walked into a small, dreary old shop. It smelled like dust and antiques and items were piled on top of tables, shelves, and cabinets all over the room. At the front on the glass countertop that held old vintage knives, a stick of incense spiraled its smoke toward the ceiling.
Billie walked through the store but couldn’t locate the shopkeeper. She ran her finger over the top of a stack of old dusty records and down to a basket full of hand-stitched teddy bears. They had black beady eyes and most of them were severely disproportioned. She could imagine something like that coming to life in some twisted horror movie. It didn’t bother her, though. With the things she had seen in her life, there wasn’t a single scary movie out there that could put fear in her heart. Only her own visions of the past could do that, and she had learned to push them away as fast as the dreams tried to surface.
As she meandered through the store, a very old, short Chinese man walked from the back, his gaze glued to her. He moved several things around on the counter but watched her movements constantly. Hickok knew him, but he didn’t know her, which she found relatively amusing. She took her time and perused the different books, old mugs, and glassware he had stacked on the shelves. It was the same stuff she had seen the last five times she had been in there. She wondered if anyone ever actually came in and bought anything.
Then again, it was probably best if they didn’t. If they did, he would have to worry about someone like her walking in unexpectedly. People in her clandestine trade took precedence over some old couple on the hunt for the next quilt to hang in their ridiculously suburban home on the outskirts of Paris. She didn’t know how he dealt with shit like that. It would drive her absolutely insane.
Billie walked toward the counter and paused at a table where several movies were laid out. She skimmed her fingertips over the cases to move the matted dust to the side before she looked around for a moment and laughed as she turned to the old man. “Don’t you know that old DVDs of Big Trouble in Little China in Portuguese will never sell?”
The old man looked up and raised his eyebrows in surprise. He would never have guessed that this woman would know the passphrase, but there she stood, and it flowed out of her like water. Still, he had no idea who she was. Her eyes seemed very familiar, but the rest of her was a complete mystery.
He cleared his throat. “I like the actor, although he has played Superman.”
Hickok smirked when she heard the next part of the passphrase. She sauntered to the counter and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the glass and her chin on her hands. She stared at the man for several moments before she replied, “Sorry, but they should have had John Wayne play Superman.”
The old Chinese man’s face went stern and he studied her cautiously. She had used the backup phrase, and only a few very specific people knew about it. It was his failsafe in case an intruder had the knowledge of the first one. Only those who belonged there would know the failsafe. Carefully, he felt under the counter, still slightly wary, and pressed a button.
A loud click echoed through the cramped store and Billie stood and turned. She looked back at him and winked as she walked forward to a length of blank wall and placed both palms against it. As she pushed, the wall clicked forward and revealed a secret doorway. She smiled and dusted her hands off before she stepped quickly around the wall and into the space beyond it.
The old man walked from behind the counter and stood with his gaze fixed on the spot where she had stood. His lip curled in a snarl of irritation, he whipped a rag out and rubbed the elbow prints on his counter. While the layers of dust didn’t bother him, prints on his display case made him cringe in agony. When he had wiped them to his satisfaction, he shoved the cloth into his belt and grabbed the closed sign from the counter. He hung it on the door facing the street before he closed it, locked the four deadbolts on the front, and turned a key until it clicked. As a precaution, he tugged on the door to ensure that it was, in fact, locked.
He flipped the switch to turn off the overhead lights and maneuvered through the space. It was a simple task to wade through the tons of antiques and collectibles in the dark as he knew the store like the back of his hand. It took only a few seconds to reach another large metal door on the opposite side of the room. He opened it, stepped through, and closed it behind him.
A faint glow from the front windows spilled across the floor and over the table of movies. Big Trouble in Little China still sat in the dusty pile with a large sticker on the front reading, Now in Portuguese.
It was probably the only one in the entire world. No one actually knew if it was real or merely as fake as the wall that Billie had entered through.
“It’s Amanda!” the voice called through the door.
Holly exhaled a tense sigh and scooted to the side, opened a small drawer in the key table, and dropped the mace inside. She lowered her gun, clicked the safety on, and held it behind her back as she unlatched the locks. Still driven by a deep inner need for caution, she pulled the door open a smidge and peeked out. Amanda stood there with her eyebrows raised. Holly tucked the gun in the back of her pants and eased her shirt over it. She opened the d
oor fully and forced a smile.
The armorer entered and glanced around. “Are you okay? You acted like the mob was at the door.”
Holly chuckled and rubbed her face. “I’m fine. Maybe a little on edge, I guess.”
The other woman laughed. “The Zoo will do it to you. Do you have a minute to talk?”
She nodded and closed the door behind her visitor and gave her a wild look before she yanked on her internal handbrake. Get it together, bitch.
Amanda walked to the counter and peeked at the plants Holly was studying. She wrinkled her nose and shifted her gaze to look at her. “For the company?”
Holly rolled her eyes and walked to sit on the bed. “Of course. A waste of my brain and my resources but I’m basically done with it. I won’t renew a contract with them—or, at least, I have no desire to at the current moment. I want to focus on my other project.”
The armorer smiled and jumped onto the bed where she bounced on her knees for a moment. “Good. That’s why I came up.”
Holly turned toward her friend as the woman landed on her butt and shifted her legs around to cross them in front of her. “Right. What’s the word?”
Amanda clasped her hands professionally in her lap and straightened. “I spoke to Salinger. He is very curious about the whole thing and understands why it might be in Heavy Metal’s best interest to partner with you in some capacity. Of course, he sees the dollar signs, but more than that, he sees the potential in the company and how it can help others. He really only had one question.”
She looked cautiously at her. “What?”
The woman shrugged and drew some gum out of her pocket. She offered Holly a piece, which she refused with a shake of her head. Amanda unwrapped a stick and popped it into her mouth, chewed for a moment, and pushed the gum into her cheek. “He wants to know if there will be others in leadership positions.”
Holly smirked. “Well, I’m trying to get a kickass armorer to agree to work with the company.”
Amanda smiled. “Oh, you are, are you?”
She shrugged and leaned back on her hands. “Yeah, but she seems hesitant. I’m not sure what it will take to break her barrier.”
The armorer winked. “Wine and dine me, show me a good time.”
“It is not that type of interview.” She pursed her lips and looked seriously at her companion.
The other woman snapped her fingers and giggled. “Damn, but a girl can hope.”
They both laughed, and Holly enjoyed the diversion from her pity party at having to do the work for the company. After a couple of moments, Amanda tapped her hands on her legs. “Actually, I’m hungry. So, let’s talk about this over Chinese.”
Holly’s eyes lit up. “There is a Chinese place here? Why have I only now heard about this? I had my own personal tab at the place around the corner from me in New York.”
Amanda laughed and slapped her on the knee. “Girl, you don’t know about ninety percent of this town. We don’t lift our skirts for those who merely swing through. I’ll take you to Moe’s. It has the best Chinese out there.”
She jumped off the bed and gathered her stuff while Amanda giggled as she walked over and stood at the door. Holly had to make sure everything was backed up and locked up to protect her work. She was excited about fried rice and eggrolls but that didn’t mean she could be careless. When she was done, she grinned happily as she skipped toward Amanda and out the door.
The armorer laughed and followed her. “Who knew Chinese could break your spell?”
Chapter Six
“Just make sure old Jimmy doesn’t stay asleep too long at the end of the bar. You know how JB feels about patrons passing out,” Paula told one of the girls who’d stepped in to bartend.
The girl laughed and threw a towel at the man. “If you ain’t got a bed, it ain’t my problem. Either wake up and drink or get the hell outta my house.”
Paula gave her the thumbs-up and laughed at old Jim as he looked around, bewildered. She headed down the hall and pushed the office door open with a deep sigh. The lights were off and JB wasn’t anywhere to be seen. “Of course, he will make my ass climb the stairs after I’ve worked a long-ass shift in his fucking bar.”
She pulled the door shut and retraced her steps toward the bar, then turned left into the stairwell. The tall flight of stairs stretched ahead, and she groaned as she grasped the railing and made her way up. Breathing heavily by the time she reached the door, she turned the knob and walked straight into his apartment. The bed was the first thing she saw, with wrinkled sheets but no JB. The sound of running water drew her attention.
He cleared his throat and yelled out of the open bathroom door around the corner. “You know, I could have been fucking naked in here. If you stroll right in like that, you might get an eyeful of something you didn’t want to see in the first place.”
Paula laughed and walked around the corner, her gaze fixed on the floor. “I’m not sure I want to see Peter and the boys dangling and stuff at your age, but I—”
She stopped in the doorway to the bathroom and narrowed her eyes as he smoothed something through his hair. Her nose wrinkled and she lifted the box off the counter. “You know chicks dig gray, right? There’s no need to cover it up.”
JB pursed his lips and snatched the box to return it to the counter. “Yeah, except I’m putting gray in my hair, not covering it up.”
Paula leaned against the doorway and stared at him in confusion. She folded her arms and ran her gaze down his back to stop at his firm, rock-solid ass the slightly baggy jeans did nothing to disguise. Her eyes widened, and she wondered if it had always been that way and she’d missed it, or if something fishy was going on.
He removed his gloves and glanced back to do a double-take at her focused gaze. “Do you mind?”
Paula shook her head, looked slowly at him, and closed her mouth with a serious expression. “Why would I mind?” she asked after a moment. “Go ahead and dye your hair. Your hair, your choice. Personally, I will stand here and appreciate the granite ass in front of me. What the hell happened to you? I mean, you have never been out of shape, necessarily, but rock solid at your age? No. I slap that ass on a regular basis, and it has never once hurt my hand. That thing looks like it would shatter the bones in my fucking fingers.”
JB turned toward the mirror, which revealed his hard stomach and the lack of gray in his chest hair. He looked over his shoulder at the ass that Paula was two seconds away from drooling over. “I do look good, don’t I?”
She looked at him like he was crazy. “Are you kidding me? You look like you are twenty years younger than you should be. Like the pictures of you from when you were a mercenary. Abs, ass, strong thighs, a chiseled chin. Did I fall into a fucking time warp or something?”
He raised his eyebrows. “If you did, we are all in trouble because no one liked the me from that long ago. I was one cocky sonofabitch.”
Paula tilted her head right and left as she continued to study his ass. “I can understand that. But how did you do it? Is it Holly’s fault?”
JB sighed, grabbed his shirt, and dragged it over his head. “I’m pretty sure it is—or, at least, the fault of the serum she gave me. I am going full Benjamin Button here. I hope it stops at some point. For now, though, I do my best to look older before someone else notices and the shit really hits the fan.”
She frowned. “What shit and what fan? Are you talking about when all the women roll in here to get a taste of you? I don’t think that’s something you should be afraid of. I would say it would be a break in the norm.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. How do you think people will react when I roll out old and roll back in like this or younger?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh shit. I didn’t even think about that. Of course, as a woman, all I think is where I can get some of this.”
“Yeah, this could be bad.” JB sighed. “If people notice that I look younger—and this much younger, at that—they’ll start asking
questions. Basically, the better I look, the more suspicious people will be. You don’t turn time back when you recover from a damn cold.”
Paula nodded her head and tapped her finger against her lips. “And if people ask questions, someone might put the pieces together and that could lead back to Holly. Good Lord, how in the hell would anyone explain that? It would only be a matter of time until they figured out what we were up to and we can’t have that.”
He walked out of the bathroom and patted her on the shoulder. “Calm down. You’ll hyperventilate and that won’t help anything.”
She nodded and tried to calm her breathing. He walked over to the chair and sat, crossed his fake leg over the other, and winced as he removed it. She shook her head. “Does your leg hurt again? Has the infection come back? I thought the medicine completely cleared it from your system. Maybe I should go get Holly.”
JB put up his hand before she could run out. “Stop. Again, you need to take a deep breath before you pass out. The infection isn’t back. All the marks have gone and I have no feeling of illness or being tired all the time.”
Paula stepped closer, a look of curiosity in her eye. “Then why does it hurt?”
He pursed his lips and simply stared at her in silence until the pieces began to click into place. She put her hand over her mouth and backed away. “Holy shit. That would be one powerful fucking serum. Do you know what people could do with that? It could change the face of humanity, war, diabetes, and accidents.”
JB wasn’t as excited. “It could do all those things, sure. But if my leg grows back and I don’t have any explanation for the people downstairs, I might have to cut the damn thing off again.”
