The sound of conversation from the front of the car brought her attention to the here and the now. Taylor had circled and slipped the driver something before he retreated and let them drive off.
"So what did he have to say…Thomas, was it?"
"Thomas, yes, ma'am. Mr. McFadden gave me cash and his credit card info. He told me to take you anywhere you'd like to go for the rest of the evening and make sure you're safe. Oh, and if anything were to happen, to give him a call so he could come running."
"Holy shit." She couldn't help a soft chuckle as she settled into her seat. "Well, I have champagne and a couple of glasses here, Thomas, and it would be a shame to waste them. Let's drive the Strip and see that water fountain I've heard so much about. A nice relaxing time is about what the doctor ordered at this juncture."
"Of course, ma'am."
* * *
It buzzed persistently. Again.
Vickie had tried to set her phone to silent in the past but, like magic, that was when everything went to shit and she always woke to fifty calls, hundreds of texts, and people in desperate need of her help. It was like the universe told her to stay connected at all times. Or else.
And yet people assumed she wasn't busy doing something else—like, say, sleeping—and thought they could call her at any time of the night or day to tell her they needed her help.
"Sure, I'm that fucking good but hell, how will they survive if I'm not around to pull their asses out of the fire?" She straightened in her bed and put her glasses on. No way would she take the time to put her contacts in.
It was Niki and there were three missed calls from the same damn number.
"I swear to God if that dumbass redhead hurt my cousin in any way, I'll make sure the whole fucking world sees that video of him in his high school play," she grumbled, pressed redial on the last call, and leaned against the headboard as the tone dialed.
It only rang a couple of times before the woman picked up.
"What's up, my cousin!"
The extended last syllable grew higher and higher until she needed to pull the phone away from her ear.
"Hey…hey there Niki… is everything okay?"
"Everything is fucking awesome is what it is." Niki slurred her words a fair amount, which reminded Vickie of other times when she’d seen her cousin get drunk. "I had a great fucking time with Taylor. The food was great, but there wasn't much of it—it’s like these French places always assume the people eating there are on a diet or something. I don't know what to do about them. But then Taylor sent me off with the limo driver and the minibar was stocked, let me tell you. Was…was stocked."
The hacker shook her head and took a moment to make sure that it was Niki who called. "Who are you and what have you done with my cousin? Because I'll have you know that I have a very particular set of…I have friends who have a very particular set of skills they've acquired over a very long career."
"Psshh, of course it's me. Don't be silly."
"Well, this Niki sounds suspiciously like she's having a good time and is completely swept up by a guy and I happen to know that her having a good time is simply not fucking possible."
"Well your…happen to know is wrong. Besides, Taylor has a very crunchy exterior and a very tasty body under it. And hey, I like me some crunchy."
Vickie winced. "Ew. I don't want the mental image of the two of you getting hot and heavy with each other."
She heard the woman laughing on the other end of the line. "We didn't have sex, silly. Not yet anyway."
"Again, ew."
"I haven't thought that through yet but I've fallen for him, Vicks. I've fallen hard and I don't want to get up."
"First of all, that's a very tasteless joke."
"I know."
"Second of all…come on, man." The hacker rubbed her temples. She wasn't used to having to be the grown-up, especially not with Niki.
"I'm so screwed. Well, not screwed screwed, but…you know what I mean."
"I won’t make any promises for someone else to keep, but you have to know that Tay-Tay is trying his best."
Her cousin snickered. "Is that what you call him? Oh, I'm so calling him Tay-Tay from now on."
He wouldn’t like that. "Okay, fine, whatever, but…yeah, this might be as close to being in a rom-com that you'll ever be, and if you honestly want to hear my advice on this… Well, he's throwing himself all-in. I'm not saying you should do the same—especially since I know your all-in behavior—but that's his level of commitment. As far as I know, anyway."
"I know…" Niki said something else but she moved away from the mic on her phone, which made it difficult to hear, although Vickie could hear liquid sloshing inside a bottle before she returned. "This is cool. I like it. And I don't want to fuck it up, and I don't know…how."
She grimaced and shook her head. "Woah. If you called me to ask for a relationship map, you're shit out of luck, coz, because I'm as lost in that particular minefield as you are. But you can always give me a call if you feel a little down or out of sorts and shit."
"Thanks, coz. I'm—shit, it's two in the morning. I'm so sorry. I wasn't even thinking… Fuck, do you have school tomorrow?"
"Eh, it’s Saturday, so no. And even if it were, I can always fudge my attendance records if they get pissy about me getting into class late. Don't worry about it. Drop me a line if you ever need to talk. I can't say that I'll ever have any good advice to give you, but I've been told I'm one hell of a listener."
"Will do, coz. Peace…out!"
The line cut off as the woman uttered a very loud and uncharacteristic whoop and Vickie could only shake her head.
"Fucking idiots," she muttered, put her phone on the charging port, and pulled her glasses off. "But hey, Tay-Tay pulled off the first date. Good on him."
* * *
He had to admit, the desert was far more private than being in the American Base. It held fewer prying eyes and ears, and there was nowhere to hide unless someone happened to be made out of sand. Satellites could pick up images, but sound would be impossible. The woman had chosen a location that would not allow anyone to listen in on what they would talk about.
Still, Sal Jacobs couldn't bring himself to feel comfortable. Being asked to meet with secretive people who flashed large sums of money around, liked their privacy, and didn't want anything that was said in their meeting to be repeated elsewhere had ticked every single box of the untrustworthiness bingo.
"You look tense," Madigan muttered and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. If they try anything, I'm here to protect you."
He couldn't help a small smile and he straightened his spine as the woman approached him. She was tall and her dark hair was tied in a tight bun as she studied something on a tablet one of her bodyguards brought to her. The two men with her and the handful near the vehicle were probably some of the hardest, toughest killers money could buy, but he would put his money on Madigan every day of the week and twice on Sundays.
The woman finally finished what had held her attention on the tablet and approached them, a small, professional smile on her face. "Dr. Jacobs, I must say your reputation precedes you. Your abilities and that of your team are almost legendary in these parts. But I've found it wise to not put much stock into reputation. It is, for the most part, gossip and people talking. I do not trust it until it is proven as fact."
"Well, given that I have no idea who the fuck you are, we should say that I have heard absolutely no gossip about you." Sal folded his arms. "And if you're trying to say you don't think my team and I are capable of living up to that reputation, I have to ask why you're willing to do business with us in the first place."
"Because of your reputation," she answered with a small, sly smile. "Once you can prove to me and my group that your reputation is fact, things between us are solid."
"And how do we go about proving that? We won’t run tests for you to prove our abilities."
"Of course not. The proof would be in the pudding, as you Am
ericans say. The going rate for a Pita plant these days is considerably lower than it was a few months ago, yes? But still a small fortune—five million dollars, American, according to my people. I would be willing to pay fifteen million for such a plant collected fresh from the Zoo. Your reputation tells me you are capable of this, yes?"
He exchanged a quick look with Madigan before he nodded. "Sure. We'll need to see some of that upfront."
"The going rate is five million, so we pay five million up-front. The other ten will be paid on delivery. Those are my terms."
One of the bodyguards came forward with a hefty briefcase and opened it to reveal a weighty stack of one-hundred-dollar bills.
Sal retrieved his phone immediately and dialed into the line his technical support kept open at all times. "Anja? Are you there?"
"Always," the young Russian woman answered.
"Can you run a scan on a cash deposit for me?"
"Sure. Turn your phone camera on and hold it over the cash in question."
He did as he was told and didn’t bother to look the bodyguard in the eye. Although he wasn’t a small man—a little over six feet and a hundred and eighty pounds—the guards were all taller and larger than he was. It wasn't good for his ego to start making that comparison.
"Okay, it looks clean," the hacker said after a few seconds. "The software checked the bills and they're all legit, with no trackers, dye packs, or anything else that might be a problem. The count is up to five million dollars. Are we going on a shopping spree?"
"I wish. I'll call you back." He hung up and studied the woman carefully before he looked at Madigan. His partner looked as uncomfortable with the arrangement as he felt, but she nodded slowly.
"Your terms are acceptable," Sal noted, took the briefcase from the guard's hands, and snapped it shut. "We'll let you know when we have a plant for you."
The woman smiled. "Excellent. I look forward to your call."
She snapped her fingers but the men were already mounting up and preparing to move out. One of them held the door of the Hammerhead open for her and in under a minute, they accelerated away from the area, leaving a rising cloud of sand kicked up on their way to the American base.
"Do you think if I ever snapped my fingers like that, I could get the Heavy Metal team to jump into action like those goons did?" Sal asked.
Madigan shook her head. "I doubt it. Back to business—how do you feel about them?"
He scowled, his gaze fixed on the moving vehicle as he lugged the briefcase of cash to where she had parked their Hammerhead. "They might as well have spelled out 'we're going to kill you when you finish the job' with pom-poms."
She studied them for a few moments but shrugged and folded her arms in front of her chest. "Well, yes, but it's not like it's the first time someone's tried that with you."
"You’re right, it’s not, but it's only exciting the first time around. After that, it's simply fucking annoying."
"The money's good. Better than any of the jobs that we've taken lately."
"Well yeah, it would have to be to make it attractive."
"So instead of simply waiting for them to backstab us, we backstab them. You know, proactively."
Sal pushed the briefcase into the back and made a mental note to find a way to deposit that amount of money in a single transaction since there was no point in having that much cash liquidity. Too many people were desperate enough to be tempted by that kind of reward. "We'll need to track them to where they take the plant for a retrieval."
"I'll say South Africa." Madigan climbed into the driver's seat and turned the vehicle on. "Or maybe somewhere in South America."
He settled into the seat beside her. "Nah, my money's on the US."
"They had accents. Hers sounded South American but her goons all sounded like they grew up speaking Afrikaans."
"Sure, but you only get that arrogant and throw money around like that when you work for an American company. Probably somewhere on the west coast, if I had to be more specific."
She eased the vehicle away from the dunes and toward the road. "Okay, that’s a fair point. So what do you think, should we give Agent Banks a call? Let her know there's someone in her jurisdiction trying to get their hands on something illegal and incredibly dangerous?"
"Probably. Especially if they're trying to breed their own Pita plants—or, God forbid, start their own Zoo."
Madigan scowled. "On American soil? I fucking hate it when they try that."
"I could be wrong."
"You could, but when was the last time that happened?"
Sal paused to think about it as she chuckled and raised an eyebrow at his concentration. "I don't know. Last winter, I think."
Chapter Six
The Mojave was hard on the eyes even at the best of times. When the sun beat down, it was difficult to look at unless Niki wore sunglasses.
And it seemed even they wouldn’t be enough to help today. It was early and technically still in the acceptable time of day to be out and about. Despite this, her head pounded and her mouth tasted like she had gargled the same dusty sand she stood on, and she couldn't help but feel like she was about to die a very slow and agonizing death.
"Today will fucking suck," she muttered, leaned against the hood of her SUV, and considered climbing inside and cranking the AC to the maximum until the rest of their group arrived. Taylor was running late and so was most of his team, which left her, Jansen, and Maxwell to wait for them in the middle of the fucking desert.
The two men didn't look like they minded. They discussed something that had happened to them at the casino tables the night before, but she had zoned them out when their voices hurt her head too much. They knew she was hungover and were probably talking extra loudly to make her miserable.
Mission accomplished.
She tried to turn quickly when someone tapped her on the shoulder, but her body responded sluggishly and she winced. Vickie stood behind her, carrying a paper tray with two disposable cups of coffee.
Niki hadn't even heard the girl's car pull up. Although it was a Tesla and therefore quieter than most cars, she should still have been aware of her arrival.
"You look like shit, cousin," the hacker commented and handed her one of the coffee cups.
"Yeah well, I feel like shit, so at least it’s accurate." The black, bitter coffee did help somewhat, but not as much as she’d hoped it would. "Champagne always gives me the worst hangovers. I have no idea why. Honestly, I don't remember it getting this bad with scotch."
"It's common. You don't feel it as much with the champagne so you end up drinking much more. It’s not rocket science."
The agent nodded and took another sip of her coffee. "I guess that makes sense."
Her eyes were immediately drawn to the massive black truck called Liz when it pulled in beside her SUV and raised a cloud of dust as it came to a halt. Bobby's truck drew in directly behind and Jansen and Maxwell stopped their bantering and readied themselves for another day at the office.
Taylor climbed out of the truck and looked a little sprier than she felt, but she narrowed her eyes when she saw that he looked like shit as well. He wasn't hungover—if he ever got hungover anymore—but his right eye was darker than the left and there was a bandage on over his right eyebrow. His left cheek was also a little discolored and swollen.
Niki took another sip of the coffee to make sure that she wasn't seeing things. "Is it only me, or does it look like Taylor's been in a fight?"
"It does look like he's been in a fight," Vickie commented. "And if he looks like that, I'd hate to see what the other guy looks like."
He waved at them and jogged over, but the hacker beat a hasty retreat.
"Hey," he said by way of a greeting. "I need to talk to you about something if you're not…um, busy."
It was nice of him to give her an out if she wanted one, but she shook her head. "I’m merely a little hungover. Which is about a rung of improvement over what it looks like you've been
through. Did you have a head-butting contest with a car?"
"More or less," he admitted. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. Well…it is, but there's context involved that I think you should know about. People have told me I should keep you in the loop even though we aren't…uh, even though there are no rings involved in our relationship yet."
She narrowed her eyes. "Okay…"
"First things first, Bungees did this to me."
Her eyebrows raised in astonishment. "I…okay. Can I ask why or is this one of those 'you do not talk about fight club' moments?"
"No, nothing like that. Well, again, I suppose it could be, but no."
"I have to say, you're not making much sense here, Tay-Tay."
He flinched visibly at hearing her say the nickname—like she'd slapped him with it—but pushed forward immediately. "It's a long story. It started when two assholes came along and threatened Bobby and Elisa while they were at the shop and I wasn't. They wanted to find me since they were working for Marino and he wanted to have a word with me, and the whole thing escalated. Nothing happened, thanks to Bungees, but when I did that job for him, I said one of the conditions was to have a decidedly unfriendly chat with the two assholes in question. He agreed and once the job was done, he had a few conditions of his own. He wanted it to be a cage match, streamed online, with bets available for the select few. You know, Vegas shit."
Niki nodded slowly. That was a fair amount to process in less than a minute and she was still getting through her first coffee of the day. She took another sip and a few necessary moments to consider what he had told her.
"I take it the two assholes accepted the fight offer?"
Taylor nodded. "From the way Marino described it, they were anxious to get into the cage with me too. These mafia fuckers always want to show off how tough they are, and the way they saw it, the first guy to take me on and win would have those bragging rights. All things considered, with the shit I've put their family through, I guess there's a very cushy job with a ton of benefits and perks for the guy who has that on his record."
Monster In Me: Cryptid Assassin™ Book Eight Page 5
