by Jillian Kidd
“No! She’s smart too, and really funny, and adventurous. She’s different.”
I finished the rest of my Coke and took his empty glass and mine to the kitchen sink. He stood and followed me, then leaned against the refrigerator.
“So you think it’ll be okay?”
“Yes,” I said. “I do. And if she’s rude, it sounds like your girl can handle her and that she’s prepared.”
“Oh, she can. She is.”
I opened my arms and Colt stepped into my warm sister’s embrace. Then I used both hands to totally mess up his hair. He pulled away, and it was war. He ruffled my mane into a bed of tangles and put me in a headlock before I cried Uncle and then hugged him again before seeing him to the door. Rogue turned a few circles and curled up in his bed.
“I feel better now,” Colt said. “Thanks, Sis.”
“Anytime.”
“Oh, one more thing.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little gray box. “I got her this.”
“Whoa, it’s not a ring, is it?”
“No!” He screwed his face into a flabbergasted scowl. “I’m not that crazy. It’s too soon for that. It’s a necklace.”
He opened the box to reveal a slender gold Siamese cat with ruby eyes on a gold chain.
“She likes cats,” he said. “And Egyptian stuff.”
This was serious. Colt hadn’t bought anything for any of his other girl toys, as far as I knew. This was a different side to my brother. I was touched beyond words.
“Good luck tomorrow,” I said.
“Thanks. G’night, Sis! We’ll go get your car. It’ll be here in the morning. I’ll leave the key in your door box. What’s the pass-code on it again?”
“Seigi.”
“Oh, yeah!”
“Thanks. Good night, Colt.”
His steps were lighter this time, as he bounded down the stairs. I closed the door and turned to face my quiet apartment. Rogue lifted his head and looked at me. Then he put it back down, his little brown eyes heavy and blinking.
Gifts were a special thing, weren’t they? Just like my Seigi, the beautiful weapon as gorgeous as it was deadly. Dad had expressed wordless volumes of love and respect simply by giving it to me, and Colt’s sword to him, as had Gakuya when he gave them to Dad.
I’d given Damon a number of gifts.
Funny.
I couldn’t remember a time when he’d given me anything.
He always said he didn’t do gifts because he never knew what to get anybody. But when you know a person, you know what they like, don’t you? It was a funny reason not to get a person gifts. After all, I’d known his likes enough to buy him an iron skull, a Day of the Dead piece. That Mexican tradition had always fascinated him.
I had it saved for a special gift after the ceremony The Texas Bounty Hunters Association had given him when he’d gone Global…
“Come with me,” I said. “I have something for you.”
Damon looked down at me, his height towering above my shorter frame. He always seemed to slightly stoop over, perhaps from the pressure of gravity, perhaps from an effort to look sexy and jaded. I loved that look, natural or not. He strummed his goatee, cocking an arched eyebrow. His eyes had that half-lidded look, though not from the champagne he was drinking; his eyes always had that look. They radiated sex, and I loved getting drunk on them.
“All right,” he said.
I’d pulled him away from a group of fellow hunters, particularly the peers who had tutored him and guided him on his journey to this level. My father was among them. Everyone was having a fabulous time in the rented guest hall of Big T’s Steak House. A roaring fire kept the room toasty, the giant taxidermy bull head nailed above it like a guardian of the flame. We passed empty plates on the thick chestnut tables, plates practically licked clean. Once we were outside, I didn’t bother to zip my coat. The heat Damon always ignited in me kept me hot.
He wore frayed jeans and a black button-down, which he’d left unbuttoned at the top to show his lean chest. A worn leather jacket covered his torso. The deep auburn color of his hair, woven in the usual braid, was pale in the dark.
I fetched the skull from my car, and gave it to him.
“Mina,” he said. “Thank you.”
I smiled, dazed and dazzled by him.
He stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. Lighting one, he blew the smoke in the air, as aloof as a rock star. Then he took the present and put it in his pocket.
I don’t know why my heart thumped then, why I was disappointed he didn’t say more, why I was a little stunned that he hadn’t asked me to privately celebrate with him.
“Would you like to go out after this?” I asked.
“I don’t know if I’ll have time,” he said, giving me a disappointed look that I believed. “I’m meeting up with some friends, and they’re a rough crowd. I wouldn’t trust them around you. Maybe we can do something next week. I’ll need to come up to the station to get my paperwork, and maybe you can meet me there and we can do something.”
Could he tell that my heart was sinking, that there was always some excuse as to why I couldn’t be around his friends, some excuse why he couldn’t ever stay any later, some excuse why he’d avoided intimate moments with me? We’d only slept together a handful of times in the couple of years I’d known him. He had a busy life. A secret one. I was starting to resent it.
“Let’s go back inside,” he said, dropping his cigarette on the cold asphalt and putting both hands in his pockets. “Everyone’s in there. I was going to talk to Frank about this new stun gun he’d been looking into, and…”
His words grew mute to me. Everything was about work. Connections. How to advance. Sometimes I wondered if that’s all I had been. Used to get close to my father. I shook it off. We’d shared some great moments. He’d told me he loved me. He was just excited about the night; that was all. It was his night. And he should be able to enjoy it with everyone. There’d be time soon enough for us to have a quality evening together. And I hoped it would be soon because my body so ached for him.
“Sneak away with me, just for a while,” I said, pulling him to me by the empty belt loop of his jeans. “We could creep into the bathroom when no-one’s looking. I know a little code that would disable the lock so that even the employees wouldn’t be able to get in.”
He let out a sexy laugh and tipped up my chin, meeting my lips with his for a quick kiss.
“Later,” he whispered. “Everyone’s inside.”
Everyone but me…
“Okay,” I whispered back, the heat of my core hot and ready. “I love you.”
He looked toward the door when a couple of women came out laughing at a portable hologram they were watching. When he saw the heat start to seep from my gaze, he smiled and kissed me a little more passionately. Then he nodded toward the door, just a little jerk of the head, and how he made that sexy, I don’t know. We went back inside, me trailing after his lanky body, which made strides as cool and confident as a lion.
Rogue slept peacefully in his bed. The hum of the refrigerator was like white noise, something I heard but that didn’t register. I probably wouldn’t have heard the SWAT team if they’d stormed the apartment complex.
No.
I hadn’t ever gotten any gifts from Damon.
13
I found my next catch.
I was on my way to the grocery store to pick up some green tea. (By the way; as soon as I ever walked into the door of my apartment with my bags full, I always remembered something I’d forgotten to buy and back I went. So much for making lists.) The familiar faces of criminals flashed in front of me during the ride over, but this time, there was a tip on a gentleman named Daniel Martin. Daniel was a Dallas native who looked like a respectable businessman but in truth was far from noble. He’d started up a charity organization for impoverished American children, but he hadn’t used a dime on his “cause.” Instead, he’d used his flashy website and tearful
public appearances to swindle himself nearly a million dollars. And I had to give the guy credit for drive. He’d run the scam all by himself, down to designing the logo on the water bottles and notepads he dispensed. But despite his efforts, his little scheme didn’t go over well with the generous donors—or the law.
A new tip had last located him in Oklahoma City. I had connections there. I’d have good chances.
The gears of my mind churned with travel arrangements and deciding what weapons to take, as well as clothing that would fit into the places he might be frequenting. Dan apparently had a penchant for antiques. Word through the grapevine said he enjoyed finding treasures at antique stores, buying them for a few bucks, and then selling them for much, much more. Dan the Man was a smooth swimming “Shark,” a money-loving jerk who would soon fill my pockets with his capture.
I didn’t bother with a round hover-cart at the grocery store since I was only after one thing. A rather rotund woman in a bright flower print muumuu (forget bright, more like nuclear) stood in my way, with one hand on the smooth, clear rail of her cart. She reached for a box of hot chocolate mix and tossed it in the cart, the little box hovering and then fitting as neatly as a puzzle piece among her frozen pork chops, mashed potatoes, Doritos chips, ice cream, etc.
A ding resounded through the store and a soothing, slightly seductive woman’s voice sounded over the loudspeaker:
“Make sure to try the new Stanley’s Flavored Salt Strips. Simply place the inch-long, inch-wide strip in a stew, and watch as the heat activates a chemical reaction, equally dispersing flavor to every piece of food. You’ll never use table salt again! Stanley’s Flavored Salt Strips. Now available to you in packs of twenty for only $35.95!”
The woman wasn’t moving. She scanned the counters, looking for something but seeming off in her own little world, and I was about to ask her what the heck she wanted so I could find it for her, when I felt the unmistakable feeling of being watched.
I shifted my head to the left, pretending to be absorbed in the boxes of instant cappuccino on the shelf, and I saw him out of the corner of my eye on the other side of the large sundress-wearing blockade. He was a man of medium build, wearing a button-down and trousers, and wearing sunglasses.
The hairs on the backs of my arms stood on end.
The image of the two men who had chased me around Reunion Tower flashed in my mind. I hadn’t been paying enough attention to them, other than to note that they were of medium build, taller than I was, and had dark hair. This guy wasn’t in a suit, but I doubted my pursuers wore suits all the time.
I fiddled with the tea coupon in my hand, taking each edge and pressing, then running my thumb over the smooth paper.
The man stood there, not moving. He pulled a sleek blue phone out of his pocket, typed a message to someone, and then tucked it away out of sight.
I casually backed out of that aisle and browsed the next, picking up packages of paper plates and pretending to read the labels. I waited a minute, then saw him again. He was on my aisle. Odd that he didn’t have a basket, or anything to purchase in his hands. His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly as he glanced my way.
Slipping back onto the aisle with the tea, I stopped. The blockade hadn’t moved yet. Well, she had, but she was now at the end of the aisle, still preventing the flow of traffic. I didn’t care about my tea anymore, only the steady stream of adrenaline that had started racing through me. I had to get out of there.
I turned around to bolt and ran right into the man.
“Oh!” I cried. I couldn’t see his eyes, which were hidden behind his glasses. His face was unreadable, no hint of smile. “Excuse me.”
Not turning around to make sure he was okay, I picked up my pace to a brisk walk and slipped in between a couple of cash registers that were closed and through the automatic sliding doors.
Sunlight flooded my eyes. I reached with slightly trembling hands into my purse for my sunglasses. I couldn’t find them. Screw it.
Squinting and walking, I muttered a curse. Where had I parked? I hated never remembering where I’d parked! It seemed ridiculous—finding a parking place five minutes ago and having the memory of it wiped out like—
“Hey, you!” the man said. “Wait!”
This was it. The man was after me. I’d soon find out who those pricks were that had ruined my night and see if they were somehow connected to Roberto. I stuck my hand in my purse again, but this time grabbed something cold and hard and familiar.
The man was only a couple of steps away when I ducked and kicked his feet out from under him. He hit the ground, making a startled cry. I spun around with my trusty bullet-firing pistol aimed at his face.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, his sunglasses now knocked from his face.
Without their mysterious allure, he looked younger, confused.
“Just who are you?” I asked, my Irish temper flaring.
His hand shaking, he held up the tea coupon that I must have dropped when I’d crashed into him.
“You left this inside!” he said, his voice reaching a pitch that let me know he was at his wits end. “What are you, crazy?”
I stood there for a few more seconds, letting this innocent gesture set in and my mortification and embarrassment grow until I finally lowered the gun. I offered the man my hand. Not surprised he didn’t take it. He rolled to his side and pushed himself upright. Once on his feet, he backed up and tossed the coupon at my feet.
“Crazy bitch,” he said, then pranced back inside the grocery store.
Taking a moment to let the rush of blood in my spinning head simmer down, I silently berated myself for being such an idiot.
What did I think? That some criminal related to Roberto was going to try to kill me in broad daylight in a grocery store?
The headline would read:
Bounty Hunter Found Dead Beneath Non-Dairy Creamer
Subtitle:
Killer Escapes Riding Push Cart
I really needed to get a hold of myself.
Turning around, I shielded my eyes from the bright Texas sun to try and find my Honda.
Thoughts of what had transpired moments ago haunted me. That poor man probably thought I was one psycho filly.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Calm down, Mina! It was probably the wrong woman they were after in the hotel, anyway!
After several minutes of not finding my damn car, I looked down at the one directly to my left.
Yeah, I’d been standing next to it the whole time.
It was one of those days. One that made me want to crawl inside some dark cave and curl into the fetal position, for the sake of my own safety and everyone’s around me.
I collapsed into the driver’s seat of my car, thoroughly disgusted with myself. I only hoped the rest of the day wouldn’t follow suit.
* * *
When my dad had taught Colt and me martial arts, he’d constantly harped on the importance of meditation. It had taken Colt longer to understand than it had taken me. I’d grasped the concept immediately. Meditation clears the mind. It helps to focus, which in turn, brings peace.
I clearly had started to go out of my mind after being chased by those strangers at the hotel, and I needed to come back to the Mina I knew and trusted.
Sitting cross-legged on the bank of the Trinity River, under the leafy branches of a young tree swaying in the breeze, I breathed in. And out. In. And out. I concentrated on my breath, feeling my lungs fill with life, concentrating on the gentle deflation of my lungs as I let it out. I imagined myself filled with light entering my body from the grass beneath me, the tree next to me, and the sky above me.
I’d let my neighbors below me borrow Rogue. The young couple and their five-year-old boy, Dustin, were fans of the weenie dog and were excellent dog-sitters for those moments I needed a quick break. He was currently playing squeaker with Dustin and having a grand ol’ canine time.
In. And out. In. And out.
With every breath t
hat trickled into my nose and through my slightly parted mouth, I imagined illuminated waves of sparkling peace. Upon each exhalation, I visualized all the toxic thoughts and fears in the form of gray smoke and tiny little skull-and-crossbones flowing out of me.
Opening my eyes, I let my vision adjust to the flare of day. The water moved at a calming pace, and I was glad to have centered myself again. I smiled. How on Earth did my mother not enjoy nature? Maybe if she stayed sober long enough to feel her fingertips, she might discover all sorts of things.
Okay, no negative thoughts, Mina. You’ve got work to do.
There was much to be done in the way of arrangements for the days ahead. Dan the Shark had no idea what was coming for him: a determined redhead, one catch away from going Global.
* * *
My flight was scheduled to leave Friday at 3:30 p.m. That’d give me the rest of today and tomorrow (aside from dinner with Mom) and a little bit of Friday to conduct my game plan. I’d called my friend, Eloise, who owned a little bed and breakfast that allowed pets on the outskirts of Oklahoma City. She’d gone to college with me; we’d taken Algebra 1 together and suffered through it, blazing thrilled at the end to get our hard-earned B’s. She agreed to let me stay in an available room for half the price.
I spent the remainder of the afternoon doing Internet research on the many different antique stores in Oklahoma City and surrounding towns. Where Dan frequented, so would I. There were quite a few of the shops, and I jotted each down in my notebook, with phone numbers and addresses.
Feeling satisfied with my progress, I made a quick phone call to Mom.
She didn’t answer.
So I left her this message:
“Mom, it’s Mina. Listen, I know you and Colt are going to have dinner tonight, and he may be bringing someone very special to him. Now, she may not exactly be your pick of the litter, but I’m warning you, Mom, out of love, that if you do or say anything to make her not feel welcome or to make Colt feel uncomfortable, I won’t be having dinner with you tomorrow. This is very, very important to him. And I don’t want to have to pull out old blackmail on you, but I will. Don’t ruin it. See you tomorrow.”
