“Don’t mind Joseph. He’s high-strung without copious amounts of alcohol.” She ushered Travis to the parking bay. “But you invaded his territory and werewolves don’t take kindly to that.” While she walked, Aviere swung the keys on a finger. “How’d you find me, anyway?”
“Peters. The collars contain tracking devices, remember?”
So that’s Neuro’s job, Aviere mused, opening two large bay doors. But that means he’ll be watching my movements and hearing conversations with Travis’ earpiece. Shit, Neuro played me for a fool and I fell for it because I was angry. Can’t let it happen again.
The cerulean Ferrari waited for her, sparkling underneath the dim light. Aviere squealed and ran to her beloved vehicle, rubbing her hand against the waxed body. “JJ did a good job repairing your window and waxed you, too. So shiny.”
“Mye, stop ogling over the Ferrari and let’s go. I should impound the damn thing. You know racing’s been banned since the war started.”
“Killjoy.” Aviere unlocked the door and flopped in the driver’s seat, taking in the Armor All polish and clean car scent. “You’re just upset you don’t drive a vehicle as sexy as mine. Besides, stop pretending to follow the rules when your gun isn’t standard issue for a fed or a detective. Now, get inside.”
The leather squeaked as she clutched the top of the steering wheel, smirking at Travis’ pale face as he obeyed, putting on his seatbelt. Jet’s purring engine relaxed the Poisoner and scattered thoughts morphed into clear ideas.
This’ll be so much fun. I’m in control, as it should be.
“Promise you’ll go the speed limit, Mye,” Travis murmured again, taking off his hat and bunching it in his hands. “I don’t want to die like the cops on the highway.”
Aviere cackled, rolling her eyes. “Cute. But we’re running short on time. I’ll make sure you’re alive at the end of the ride, Travis.”
“You’re comparing racing to a carnival ride?”
“My shop’s only a half hour away. Christ, you think I’d asked you to spend the day with Agent Neuro, the way you’re going on.” She pressed the accelerator, pleased by the sound and smooth transition. “I mean—”
Travis pointed to his ear. “He can hear you, you know.”
“Good. Neuro needs to loosen up. He can wait while we get lunch and head back to my shop. It’s safe to talk there.” Adrenaline pumped through her as she drove out of the shaded parking bay. “Any preference on lunch?”
“I’ll let you know if I get through the ride, Mye.”
Oh, this is delicious, agent. Maybe I’ll drive from now on when we’re working together.
The queasy noises Travis groaned solidified her gleeful thought, giggling when she sped out of Trickster’s parking garage. Aviere rolled the repaired window down and laughed, enjoying the warm wind blowing her long hair behind her. Travis’ moans dissipated with the fresh air, but worried hazel eyes locked onto her.
“Mye, please slow down. I don’t want to bail us out and the precinct’s already pissed at me.”
For a moment, Aviere considered the agent’s request, but a loud whistle from one of Joe’s young werewolves soured her joyous mood. Curling her lip, Aviere gripped the clutch, slamming the accelerator until she floored it to the exit.
“Mye, I don’t want to die before the assignment’s over, hellcat!”
The Poisoner ignored her partner’s protests and blasted the radio, bellowing lyrics to Metallica as she turned off the graveled road.
Chapter Eight
As soon as the Ferrari parked in the lighted tunnel, Travis barreled out of the car, thankful to touch solid ground. He pretended to fix his ripped collar of his shirt, giving up seconds in and buttoned his trench coat instead. Travis nudged the door closed with a foot, then leaned against the Ferrari, flipping the earpiece to reach Peters.
The agent’s face fell when static erupted in his left ear.
Damn. Definitely need better equipment.
Travis growled, quieting the static. He observed Mye’s confident movements, blinking when she held her large iPhone to her ear. A bitter aftertaste lingered in Travis’ mouth and his head spun from the morning’s events.
How the hell does she have reception? I can’t get anything on this godforsaken earpiece.
“Hurry with my food, Lim. I haven’t eaten all morning—and don’t eat all the pizza.”
Maybe that’s why she’s testy, Travis thought, meeting the Poisoner’s smoldering eyes. Thank God I ate, even if the ham and cheese croissant tasted horrid. The coffee—god, so divine.
“My brother’s coming,” Aviere announced, jamming the phone in her back pocket. “You need to leave. He’s flighty around cops.”
“Maybe if he didn’t do drugs, your brother—”
“I don’t need a Renegade posing as a fed giving me a morality check, Travis.”
Travis tried the earpiece again, but piercing static responded. “Damn!”
“Turn it off! Christ, the pitch!”
The agent complied, scratching the back of his ear. “How do you have reception?”
“Tell Sanderson you need upgrades. We jam everything underground.”
Travis withheld a snicker as he remembered the high-tech listening device inside the lining of her large handbag, small enough to remain unnoticed. Travis mentally berated himself for forgetting to swap out his earpiece. He felt the improved earpiece in his pocket dig into his thigh, but wished he remembered instead of focusing on Aviere’s daredevil driving. He followed Aviere to the side of a brick building and watched her push a brick inside the wall. Instantly, the wall lowered, revealing a door to her shop.
Incredible. To think the shifters made an entire underground city—no wonder we can’t find them.
“I suppose I’ll have to get you guys better equipment, even if I’m against it,” she continued, setting her purse on her desk. “First, I’m getting you a sexy set of wheels. I’m not giving up racing for your blasted organization.”
Should I tell her about Q or keep it to myself?
The basement of Aviere’s workshop differed from Travis’ perceived first impression. As he stepped inside, Travis observed Aviere’s nimble movements uncovering tools and equipment. She pushed various buttons and items revealed themselves from the walls along with hidden compartments of furniture.
He expected a large computer setup, but blinked when Aviere slammed her foot against a large wooden plank, pulling out a tiny white laptop.
No wonder the place looked clean when we bugged it—they hid everything.
“Travis, don’t brood. This isn’t up for discussion. I’m not teleporting everywhere and I need something normal to work out my anxiety. Oh and make money—cause making meds for my clients isn’t cheap.”
Wow, Lyssa. Mye thinks breaking the law’s normal.
A laptop charger landed on her desk from a large sliding drawer, followed by the battery a moment later from her purse. Aviere hummed a catchy tune from an old cartoon show as she inserted the battery and powered the machine on.
Travis snorted at the operating system. “Not a PC user?”
“Hell no. Too unstable for me. Updates always crash on Windows.”
Jesus, Lyssa. Mye’s intelligent, cunning, and makes bank breaking the law. But I can’t complain, sweetheart. The Renegades pay me double my normal salary.
“So, tell me what you found while you were out investigating the Hilton, Travis.”
Travis leaned against the wall, fiddling with the Blackberry in his pocket. “I didn’t tell you where I went.”
“No one finds Tricksters easily and you tele-hopped to me. Neuro’s good at his job.”
“Please stop calling Peters that.”
“Better than other words that come to mind.” The Poisoner flipped another switch beside her desk and a sophisticated laboratory setup with bubbling test tubes swiveled out of the wall. “Where are the items you wanted to give me?”
Travis narrowed his eyes at the fancy f
orensics arrangement. “Ironic—you and Peters could get on if you chose to.” He retrieved the plastic bags Q shoved in his pockets. “One’s a vial of blood, the other’s a cup.”
“Ugh. I could have used the liver instead of blood.”
And Mye wonders why we suspect her as the killer, Lyssa, Travis mused, scratching his chin when Aviere investigated the bag. Statements incriminate a killer or criminal every time.
“Christ, Travis—blood after postmortem isn’t easy to analyze. Poison metabolizes faster in the bloodstream. For accurate results, most coroners use the liver because of temperature and better reliability.”
“Where did you learn this stuff?”
The prideful smile widened. “Ma.”
Jesus, what kind of woman was Mye’s mother, teaching her little one how to check dead bodies?
At his raised eyebrow, Aviere’s eyes fell flat, and she slipped on a pair of plastic safety goggles. “Did you swipe these without clearance? I shouldn’t assess these without chain of evidence papers, Travis.”
“So, you do follow rules, Mye.”
“My dad’s—well, he’s high-ranking law enforcement.” Hesitance laced Aviere’s voice before she cleared her throat. “But where did you get this? Can’t imagine your boss handed it to you.”
Travis noticed Aviere’s fluctuating tone, shifting between hesitance and authority seconds later. He studied the Poisoner’s face and withheld a smile, keeping a straight face. Wisps of darkness emanated around her forest-green aura, but faded after the uncomfortable moment ended.
So, her mask can crumble, but it’s when family’s mentioned. Mye doesn’t know about Q or Rodriguez’s involvement, so maybe—no. I don’t trust Rodriguez’s answer about Q’s curiosity. He seemed too excited about her being involved.
“Ah, not exactly.”
A claw ripped the top of each bag open before pulling the items out of them. “Look, meet with Neuro and exchange notes, do reports—whatever you need to do. My brother won’t talk with a fed lurking around and forensics isn’t instantaneous.”
“Maybe if your brother—”
“Travis.”
“How do I know you won’t conspire to kill again, or hide evidence with your brother?”
Travis expected Aviere to turn volatile and lose her temper, but the cool donna cleared her throat again before sitting in her chair. “You don’t. But I’m on the fence letting you leave. You might arrest my contacts as potential accomplices. Though, I’d laugh if you went back for Joseph.”
“The thought occurred—until I met him,” Travis confessed, flinching at each painful memory.
He stopped at Aviere’s biting tone, scrutinizing the Poisoner when she placed the vial of blood inside the cylindrical container. Aviere’s face remained impassive as the machine beeped and concealed its prize. A complicated analysis program opened on the computer, displaying various data as it assessed the vial.
After two minutes of intense staring and rubbing his chin until his fingers felt like sandpaper, the computer beeped. Then a rainbow circle spun in the middle of the screen.
“Goddammit,” Aviere cursed, pointing the mouse at an error message. “Seems I need to do a different scan. Irving’s blood contained various drugs before he died.”
“Awfully convenient, Mye.”
“I’m not fond of our partnership, either,” the Poisoner reminded him with malice. “Hell, I didn’t even eat today.”
“I thought we were going to grab something on the way,” Travis rebutted. “Drive thrus—how I loathe them, yet love them for quick meals at the same time.”
The safety goggles landed on the desk. “Hard when you’re vegan.”
Travis gaped, eyebrows furrowed at her revelation. “You’re… you’re a carnivore, Mye. Cats are—”
“Ma raised me as a vegetarian. I’m not fond of meat or killing animals.”
“Humans constitute, but you kill them for the right price.”
“So do you, Travis. But you have no qualms about it.” Aviere clicked on a button and started the scanning program again. “But as for your earlier accusation—Lim’s meeting to discuss what we found, and to bring me food. Nothing about what you speculated.”
Travis leaned against the wall, arms crossed across his chest. “Forgive my lack of trust, Mye, but I don’t think so.”
“You’re a cleaner, Travis. You’re issued orders after they’re ironed out. But instigating—planning the kill—you need clearance, especially to kill a predominant player in the Underground.”
He closed his eyes, picturing various dead victims. Travis remembered each kill, memorized each pleading cry the victims blubbered, and savored each order given by Sanderson, ridding the world of another heartless criminal. The bonus of a five-digit payout sweetened the deal, but Travis wished justice served the people instead of criminals buying out the system.
When he gazed at Aviere’s face, he hated seeing innocence inside her forest-green aura and calculative cerulean eyes. Slivers of humanity caused Travis to question if he needed to kill her after their assignment ended.
“It’s simple, Mye. Sanderson issues orders and I execute the unwilling victims. Usually takes a day or two, but there’s no waiting period.”
She drummed her fingers on the desk. “You’re not planning them, mook. Executing a kill order’s complicated due to various components, such as money, alibis and dealing with the aftermath. You need permission from a don or donna to start one. However, I don’t need those since I’m good at my job.” The screen beeped again, displaying mismatched findings. “If I can’t execute it myself, Joe and his woman suffice—but Lim and Reese are effective, too. I never use my subordinates.”
“And you wonder why the FBI targeted you, Aviere Mye,” Travis said, eyeing the computer instead of her. “Jesus, you set up kill orders.”
“Once. But I prefer the cleaner part. No one sees me and it’s easy to make things natural.” Keys clicked while Aviere typed into the laptop. “The part I hated was prepping the poor bastards icing their targets about how to handle police interrogations. Some still messed up and ended up being killed for liability reasons. Nothing to do with me, of course—just business, after all.”
An icy smile played on the agent’s lips. “You’re not helping your case, Mye.”
“Look, go catch up with Neuro.”
“Peters,” Travis answered, clenching his teeth. “His fucking name is Peters.”
“Whatever.” She flicked her hand in his direction. “He’s a thorn incapable of pruning. If I can’t use Neuro, no point in working with him.”
“Shit, at least you’re honest, Mye. You don’t hide who you are.”
“You’re dismissed, agent,” Aviere ordered, pointing to the door. “We’ll meet tomorrow.” She pointed to the stairway. “Go out the normal way… above ground. You’ll attract attention if you go out the back door, and some of my neighbors aren’t aware of my day job.”
Travis slipped a hand in the side of his coat and handed Aviere a business card. “My cell’s on the back. Don’t call the Blackberry unless you want the director at your door.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
The Poisoner’s whimsical voice made Travis blink. “You’re insane.”
“I know. Hold on. Let me get some paper so I can give you my number.”
Travis held up a hand. “No need. Peters already looked it up, and it’s in my phone.”
Aviere’s face contorted, almost demonic when she spoke, “I see. Perhaps tomorrow is better. With some space, I should get in a practice run for tomorrow night’s race.”
I’m not paid enough to deal with Mye’s bullshit, Lyssa. Best to end her silly dream here.
Travis grabbed Aviere’s shoulders and shook the tiny woman, astounded by her naivety. Before Aviere attacked, Travis planted his leg and shoved her in the chair, turning her bracelet to display their timer. “Six days, Mye. We don’t have time to chase stupid dreams.”
“McSeeten ex
pects me to show.” Humid breath laced with pineapple and coconut hit Travis’ face. “I took money to win for him. Besides, I’m well respected in the community. Even when I ranked high, I still attended races. If you like to watch—to make sure no one else dies—you’re welcome to, Travis.”
“You’re unreasonable, Mye. All for a silly—”
“No, Travis. Dying inside’s a foolish dream. At least if I race, I’m retaining my identity—my real livelihood—my true skill.” Darkness laced her forest-green aura, echoing the sadness in her voice and the turbulent look in her cerulean eyes. “I won’t let Lowell rip away my identity.”
Uncomfortable silence rested between them and Travis headed up the stairs, trying to forget the hurt in the Poisoner’s eyes. He wanted to continue thinking of her as a criminal, someone to kill when she finished serving his purpose—not as a victim who suffered like himself.
She’s true to her nature, Lyssa, down to her stubborn streak. Mye’s not bothered by my behavior.
The agent ascended up the stairs two at a time, blowing hot air through his nostrils at his one-sided conversation. Before Travis exited, he stopped, hand on the cool doorknob as he regarded his partner.
His heart banged when Aviere reached for a picture and cradled it to her chest, hiding the photograph before he saw the figures displayed.
Oh, the hell with it, Lyssa. I’ll persuade Peters to handle the reports while I let Mye play. Woman’s earned it, dealing with me.
“All right, Mye. Maybe we can balance work and your goddamned dream. Don’t drive off without me.”
A soft smile crept on her lips. “Cool. But I’m not promising anything, so you better keep your word. I’ll only lose a hand if we’re separated too long and I’ll survive long enough for a replacement.”
Travis grunted, almost rescinding his offer when the door slammed closed. He debated internally about his choice until he remembered her hopeful voice.
Maybe—no. I won’t hope yet. All my other partners died before their first assignment ended, except Peters. False hope leads to disappointment, Keith.
Despite his reservations, Travis grinned, eager to test Aviere’s will over the course of their assignment. Her words carried merit, truth cutting to the quick. Travis willed darkness away from his heart and widened his strides, relieved when he realized why Aviere resonated with him—why she confused him.
Turbulence: Book One in The Renegades Saga Page 11
