“Cyrus, get going,” Jack said.
Agent Tweel departed with a frown, slamming the door behind him. That left only Jack, Smoke, the other agent, and herself in the room.
“Get the car warmed up, Danny,” Jack said.
That left only three.
“Sid, I’m sorry for how this went down. You’re my best. You know that. But I can’t have you questioning me in front of others. Not like that. Respect the chain.”
“I know, but—”
“No, the only butt I’m going to have is yours if you cross that line again. Capisce?”
She nodded.
“Good.” His eyes slid over to Smoke and back. “I don’t know what to make of this. He’s all yours though. Read the file. Stay away from the office. Don’t hesitate to call. In two weeks this will all be over. Things will be back to normal.”
“You say that as if you don’t think we can bring this guy in.”
“Well, the odds are against you. I’m told no one has ever brought one in. And by the look of things, I don’t see that changing.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Good luck, Sid.”
She could feel his heavy gaze on her back as he headed for the door. It sent a chill through her. She didn’t turn.
“Goodbye, Sir.”
CHAPTER 8
Sid peeked out the curtain in the bay window and watched the black SUV back out of the driveway and roll out. The chill between her shoulders didn’t ease. It seemed everyone knew something they weren’t telling. First her old boss, Ted, and now her current boss, Jack.
Behind her, metal clanked on the floor.
In a single motion, she spun around and ripped her pistol out. Smoke sat on the hearth, undoing the cuffs on his ankles.
“Freeze!”
He didn’t move a muscle.
“Key. Toss it over to me.”
He flicked it at her feet. “You don’t think I can work shackled and with this prison garb on, do you?”
“No.” She holstered her weapon. “But I won’t have you playing pickpocket either. Just be still.” She gave him a once-over. A moment ago, he’d been completely disheveled, and now he seemed perfectly fine. He should have been laid out still. “Are you all right?”
Smoke nodded. “Maybe a little achy, but that’s more from the vaccination than the taser.”
“I don’t know what that’s about.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She cocked her head. “You seemed pretty upset about it, and now you’re not worried.”
“Nope.”
“So that was a show?”
“Yep.” He held his arms out. “Can you please unlock these?”
“So, you know what the shot was?”
“Yep.”
“And they don’t?”
“That’s right.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Are you going to take these cuffs off?”
“Answer my question first.”
“No, I’m not going to tell you what the shot was for. But I will tell you I have a condition. Nothing contagious, but I’ve had that shot before.”
“Who makes those shots?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He extended his wrists. “It’s just a thing. A private thing. I have my right to privacy, you know.”
She tossed him the key.
What in the world is going on?
Smoke had been injected with something, and he was the only one who knew what. He had a fit and had taken a walloping for it. Someone beyond pay grades was overseeing this. Watching Smoke. And so far, everything that was going on made absolutely no sense to her.
Smoked unlocked the last set of cuffs and tossed them on the floor. He unzipped his jumpsuit and slipped out of it.
“What are you doing?” she said, averting her eyes. Her glance revealed his lean body was packed with hard muscle.
“Changing,” he said, walking over and grabbing a duffle bag in the corner. He emptied the contents of his bag and slipped on a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and work boots. “So, you and Cyrus have a past.” He repacked the bag and threw in the jumpsuit. “He doesn’t seem like your type.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Smoke tossed his duffle bag on the counter. “Aw, come on. It’s obvious you two dated. But I can’t imagine why you broke it off. He seemed so … charming. Beady eyes and all.”
“You have wonderful powers of perception.” She opened the file and set it on the kitchen table. “But if it’s not related to this case, keep it to yourself.”
“Sure.” He walked over and stood by her side. “But tell me, why did you go out with him? Let me guess: you thought his drive and intelligence outweighed his meager frame and uber-bland personality.”
“No.” She kept her eyes on the papers in the file.
“You have a thing for short guys?”
“Mister Smoke—”
“Smoke.” He smiled. “Just call me Smoke.”
“Grab a chair.”
Smoke took a seat and hitched one booted foot on the table. It had the ankle tracker on it. “They might as well have left the handcuffs on. Ridiculous.”
Sid downloaded the application Cyrus had sent her. A minute later, Smoke’s location was on the screen. She showed it to him. “Works great. Things are looking up. Now, let’s discuss our current situation... First, whatever you have in mind, you run by me first. Second, you don’t go anywhere without me.”
“I need to hit the head.”
“Third.” She looked at his boot on the table. “Keep it professional.”
He dropped his foot on the floor.
“All right, but I really do.”
“Make it quick.”
He got up. “I missed prison chow this morning too.” He patted his stomach. “I’d really like to have some pancakes.”
She looked at him. “I don’t care.”
He picked up his duffle bag.
“Where are you going with that?”
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to shave.” He rubbed his chin. “This scruff makes me feel dirty. Now that I’m out of prison, I want to feel clean again.”
“That really doesn’t matter to me.”
Smoke walked away and flipped a hallway switch.
“No bulbs.”
Sid heard him checking switches until he finally stopped and a door near the back of the house closed. She checked the monitor on her phone. Good. Inside the file were more pictures of Adam Vaughn. He wore plain clothes and kept a personal network of goons close by. Most of the footage wasn’t the best, as it came from security cameras and the locations were erratic. Different banks. Restaurants—some expensive, others dives. AV seemed to have friends in high and low places. She became engrossed. There were pictures of weapons caches. Unidentified men slaughtered. There were pages of documentation with the letters blacked out.
What good is this?
There was an envelope inside she’d overlooked. She opened it. A brief letter was typed out on bureau letterhead.
Agent Shaw,
Due to the unorthodox arrangement of this assignment, you will need to keep the following items under consideration.
John Smoke is a convicted criminal with special skills. Don’t underestimate him.
You have eyes on him and we have eyes on him. Allow him free range. We’ll let you know if he needs to be reeled in.
If any alien objects or circumstances or individuals are encountered, notify your superiors immediately.
Trust your instincts and good hunting,
The Bureau
“Who on earth wrote this?” She glanced at her phone. Smoke’s beacon hadn’t moved. “It can’t be from the bureau.”
It was a first: a cryptic, unprofessional, unsigned letter. It made her wonder if Cyrus or Jack were playing a joke on her. But the bureau stamp. The make of the paper. She’d seen it before. It was nothing short of top brass bonding. She shook her head.
I guess there’s a first time for e
verything.
She put the letter back inside the envelope and slipped it into her bag. ‘Allow him free range’, it says. She smirked. He doesn’t need to know that.
There was a squeak from down the hall. The turn of a faucet. The faint sound of water echoing.
Are you kidding me? A shower? Really? I thought he was hungry.
She glanced at the tracker on her phone. Nothing had changed.
One by one, she entered the location coordinates into her phone. Ten minutes later she was done.
Sidney brushed her hair aside. “I need a map.” Her belly groaned. “Someone needs another shake.” She gathered all the items up and stuck them back in the file folder. Calling out, “Let’s get this show on the road,” she made her way down the hall and listened at the door. The shower was still running. She rapped her knuckles on it. “Hey.”
No reply.
She checked her tracker, and it showed no changes. She knocked again.
Her fingertips started to tingle. She drew her gun and tested the door handle. Locked.
“John? John Smoke?”
No reply.
She stepped back and delivered a heavy kick. The hollow door burst open. The mirror was steamed up, and the ankle tracker lay resting on the back of the toilet. She picked it up.
Damn. How’d he do that?
CHAPTER 9
Angry, Sidney ripped the shower curtain back.
Smoke was in there.
“Hey! Do you mind?”
“What! Do I mind?” She looked away and slung the ankle tracker at him. “Put that back on!”
“I didn’t want to get it wet,” he said, chuckling.
“It’s waterproof, imbecile!” Sidney left the room. Her face was flushed red. How in the world did he do that? “Get dressed and get out here!”
“I’m coming,” he said from inside the bathroom. “What’s the matter, Agent Shaw? Did you think all of your plans had gone up in Smoke?”
How did he do that? She stormed down the hall. Paced back and forth. Smoke rattled her. Nothing ever rattled her—until this assignment. Get it together, Sid. Get it together.
A few minutes later, Smoke came out. He was drying his dark hair off with his towel.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I kicked the door in. You didn’t hear that?”
“I was singing,” he said, screwing up his face, “I think. Sometimes I get really into it.”
“I didn’t hear any singing.” She glanced down at his ankle. The ankle tracker was back. “Care to explain?”
“I have my secrets.”
“Do you want pancakes, little boy?”
“Okay, I made some calls.”
Her head tilted over. “How did you do that?”
“I borrowed one of those agents’ phones. The one who got a piece of taser.” He held it out. “He can have it back now.”
She snatched it from his hand and slipped it in her bag. “Who did you call?”
“My crew.”
“And they remotely disarmed the ankle tracker?”
“Sure. Not a problem. And this model isn’t one of the best ones. As soon as I gave them a model number, they laughed. So, they looped the signal and I unsnapped it. Easy peasy.”
“Are you testing me, Mister Smoke?”
“I’m just knocking some dust off, Agent Shaw. We’re going up against something big, and I need to be sharp.” He tossed the towel aside and came closer. “I could have just vanished, you know.”
“True, but then I wouldn’t buy you any pancakes.”
***
“Mmm,” Smoke said. “That’s good.” He stuffed in another forkful of buttermilk pancakes slathered in syrup. He was half through his second stack. “You really should try some.”
“No thanks,” Sidney said again. She took a sip of coffee. She hadn’t been inside an IHOP since she was a teenager. “I’m fine.”
Smoke shrugged and stuffed in another mouthful. Over the past hour he’d proven himself to be the most elusive garbage disposal she’d ever known. He was a bit of a chatterbox too, asking her bizarre question after question that she ignored and dodged until they arrived at their high-carb destination.
She checked messages on her phone. Text. Email. Her niece, Megan, had dropped her a quick text that said ‘Hi’ with a smile and a unicorn. It had been a while since she heard from her. Her sister, Allison, had issues.
“What’s the matter?” Smoke said, gulping down his second Coke and motioning for the waitress.
“Nothing.” She set down her phone. “Tell me about this crew of yours.”
A waitress took away his glass. “I’ll be right back, Hun.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Sure, my crew. Right. Well, not much to tell. Just two friends that help me track things down. They work the inside, and I work the outside.”
“Do they have names?”
“Fat Sam and Guppy.”
“And this Fat Sam and Guppy are the ones that helped you hack into FBI property.”
He nodded and shoved more pancake in his mouth. “Mmm! I swear, this makes me feel like I haven’t eaten in months. Prison food has no flavor to it. And we never get pancakes or waffles, either. Which do you prefer?”
“Neither.” She straightened herself in her seat. “Are you about finished?”
“Huh? Well, no. This is a carb load. The protein load comes next.” He eyed her and her plate of half-eaten bacon. “You look like someone who knows something about that.”
“Are your friends criminals?”
Smoke sat up and leered down. “No. Why would you say that?”
“I need to know what I’m dealing with. ‘Fat Sam and Guppy’ doesn’t tell me much of anything.” She took another sip of coffee. “You have to admit, it sounds shady.”
“‘Fat Sam and Guppy’ sounds shady to you?”
“Yeah.”
He shook his head. “Well, they say perception is everything.”
The waitress returned with his third Coke. “Anything else, hun?”
Smoke looked at Sidney.
She glanced at the windows. The rain was pouring down, and the chill in her bones had finally faded. She gave him a nod.
Smoke held up the menu and pointed.
“I want this and this.”
“Anything else?”
“I’ll let you know when I’m through.”
The waitress brushed by him. “You do that.”
“Sure,” Sidney said. “You do that. So, you were talking about Sam and Guppy?”
“No, you were talking about them.” He took a drink. “Listen, they are legit. No record.”
“Which implies they haven’t been caught.”
“Sort of, Agent Shaw … or Sidney … or Sid—can I call you that?”
“Let’s keep it professional.”
“Ugh … Agent Shaw, how suspicious are you of this hunt? I mean, think about it. They don’t want you in the office. That limits resources. Instead, they want you to tail me as I go on a hunt. And you said yourself they weren’t following protocol. Doesn’t that worry you?”
“A little, maybe.”
“Good. You’re honest. Frankly I’m a bit worried too. Not in a scared way, but in a ‘I’m pretty sure I’m being manipulated’ kind of way.”
“Then why do it?”
“It’s the Black Slate. Bad people are on that list, and I like the idea of putting them away. Say, mind if I take a look at that file now?”
“Can you handle it while you’re eating?”
“I’m a multitasker,” he said, taking another big bite of pancakes.
She opened her bag and handed over the file. Smoke rummaged through it, his dark eyes scanning the contents. He was an attractive man. Boyish, yet dark. She noted white scar lines on his hands. A broken finger that hadn’t healed well.
“He’s a swarthy-looking Spaniard.”
“Why do you say he’s a Spaniard?”
; Smoke shrugged. “He has some interesting haunts, too. Ew, look at all these dead guys. That’s not good. Why did you show me this while I was eating?” He stuffed the papers inside the envelope. “I’m going to need a copy of this.”
“It’s confidential.”
“Really?” He laughed. “I don’t think there is such a thing these days.”
The waitress returned and set down two steaming omelets surrounded by hash browns, all on one plate.
“Aw, you put them on one plate. That was really sweet of you. Thanks, sugar.”
The waitress pinched his cheek. “If you weren’t my son’s age, I’d take you home with me.” She looked at Sidney. “You found yourself a good one here. Big eater. I like a man that lets you feed him.”
“Uh, we’re not …” Sidney started, but the waitress moved on.
“Are you a good cook?” Smoke said, sharpening his knife with his fork.
“I can make an omelet.”
“Well that’s better than the last girl I dated.”
“This isn’t a date.”
“Easy, I’m just making conversation.”
“Let’s stay on point, Mister Smoke.”
“You see, there you go again. Just call me Smoke.”
She held her tongue. She wanted to call him something else, but didn’t.
“Agent Shaw, let me tell you how I expect things to go. I need information and a couple of days. I want to go to my place. Sort through some things. When I’m ready to move, I’ll let you know and … we go.”
“That’s not going to happen. We’re going to go back to the house and plan things out. We only have two weeks to resolve this.”
He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “Ugh. This is why I work alone.”
“And you’d still be working alone if you hadn’t gotten carried away with your last job.”
“Just two days, that’s all I ask. You take some time and I take some time. After that, I’ll fill you in and be more willing to cooperate. Please.”
The letter did say to turn him loose, but she wanted to hang on. That was her nature. Her training. This scenario was the complete opposite of everything she’d been taught. It irked her.
“You can take the ankle tracker off. That’s the biggest problem. Why did you show your cards on that one?”
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files Collector's Set: Books 1-10: Urban Fantasy Shifter Series Page 4
