Predator Patrol (Mars Cannon Novel #2)

by Nicolette Pierce

  I struggled against his hold. He didn’t budge. My arms were pinned tightly and my upper body was immobilized.

  “Your head and legs are free,” he pointed out as if he sensed my climbing fear.

  I threw my head back, ramming his shoulder. He was too tall for me to inflict pain. I kicked towards him, but he counter kicked my legs and set me aside. He gave me a sliver of a smile.

  "Those were good attempts. Had I not expected it, I might have been injured and let my grip slip." He turned to the class, allowing me to escape. “Your attacker only has two arms; maybe a weapon. He’s not an octopus. You have more ways of escaping from his hold than either of you realize. Pick a partner and let’s start working on key moves.”

  Kym and I partnered and watched as T demonstrated how to escape from a hold and bludgeon someone’s brain with their own nose.

  I overheard Edna tittering. “I couldn’t possibly kill someone with their own nose. I just don’t have killer instinct. Plus, all that oozing blood.”

  “Don’t forget the brain might start oozing out too,” Mrs. Janowski chuckled. “Now come on and pretend to bludgeon me.”

  Edna paled at the mention of oozing brains. “Mr. T, I believe I need a different partner.”

  “Just T, Edna. I don’t have a mohawk and chains.” He smiled. “Why don’t you partner with Kym, and Mars partner with Mrs. J.?”

  “I’ll be your partner, Edna,” Kym said and switched places with Mrs. Janowski. Before she switched spots, she whispered, “We need to talk. Wait for me after.”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, Mars!” Mrs. Janowski rubbed her hands together. “Prepare to die!”

  My eyes popped open as she circled her weathered but unnaturally strong arms around me.

  Kym and I sat at a small metal table on the senior center’s patio. Overfed ducks waddled at the nearby pond, quacking for stale bread from their senior friends.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Aaron,” Kym said as we sipped tepid coffee.

  I sat straight. “Has he been in contact? How is he?”

  “After you left yesterday, he tried to contact you. I think I scared him off because I answered and he knew I wasn’t you. I don’t know how though. It’s not like there’s a lot of dialog when you abbreviate everything. He immediately disconnected.”

  I sat wondering what could've possibly made Aaron so nervous. Scared? “It’s probably because I hardly abbreviate. Did you find a private detective?”

  Kym nodded. “You’ll like him. He’ll start researching the case today. He’s coming over to Mrs. J.’s this afternoon to see if he can pin Aaron’s location.”

  “I should take off work tonight just in case he tries to reach me.”

  “I can keep watch,” Kym offered. “I’m not doing anything anyways. If he contacts you again, I’ll explain I’m a friend borrowing your computer.”

  “Okay. Ask him when I can contact him.” My brow knitted together. “So, who’s the detective?”

  “T,” Kym said with a smile.

  I instantly relaxed. “If T’s helping, I’m sure we can find out what’s going on. I just hope it’s soon. I have a bad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.”

  “It’s because you haven’t eaten today.”

  “How did you know?”

  Kym shook her head. “How long have we known each other? How long have your cupboards been bare?”

  “If you’re so smart, you should’ve brought a pastry,” I teased.

  “I will tomorrow,” she promised.

  Her eyes suddenly dulled as if she had a sad passing thought.

  “Kym, what’s wrong?” I asked.

  The brightness came back as she shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  I scanned her face but there was no sign of sadness. Perhaps she’s worried about Aaron. Whatever the thought, it was quickly erased.

  Kym dropped me off at home. After I collect tips at the bar tonight, I might have enough to fill my gas tank. I miss my car.

  I walked past the mailbox with a silent growl. There wasn’t any indication mail was bursting from the seams, but I wasn’t ready to open it yet. I’ll open it in a day or two, I promised.

  Sitting down at my laptop to read emails, I crossed my fingers a job offer might have trickled in. I deleted junk mail as I scrolled through the list. I stopped and scrolled back up.

  Cybernaut@ss.net

  That’s Aaron’s screen name. I held my breath as I clicked read.

  Who are you? You’re not Hanna, and I don’t think you’re a kid. What kind of person pretends to be something they’re not?

  My stomach churned. An empty, lost sensation entwined me. How did he figure out who I was? I’ve only used Mrs. Janowski’s computer to talk to him and it’s all been on one site.

  I unplugged the laptop and rushed across the street.

  “Mrs. J.?” I pounded on the door. “Are you home?”

  “Come in, Mars,” Mrs. Janowski hollered through her second story window. “I’ll be right down.”

  I breezed through the door and plunked down my laptop on the dining room table. Who is Aaron? I truly thought he was a kid. How would a child find me?

  As I tried to make sense of it, Mrs. Janowski joined me in the dining room. I pressed the power button on Mrs. J.’s yellowing computer.

  “Mrs. J., read Aaron’s email on my laptop. I don’t know how he got my email address. I had a bad feeling before and it’s growing stronger. Something isn’t right.”

  As she read the email on my laptop, I navigated to the website on Mrs. Janowski’s dinosaur. My fingers drummed on the table waiting for the sluggish connection.

  “Oh, dear!” Mrs. Janowski sat down with the same perplexed look that reflected mine. “This isn’t good. Our cover is blown and we don’t know who this person is.”

  “When’s T coming over?” I asked.

  “Anytime now. The gang was going to arrive early today to get a head start and answer T’s questions. I sure hope he can figure this out.”

  “The unknown makes me nervous. We don’t know who this person is, and we don’t know how he figured out my email address.”

  The website popped up. I clicked to the chat area and typed Aaron an instant message.

  R u there?

  An automated reply bounced back.

  The user you are trying to reach is currently logged off. The user will see your message upon login.

  “He’s not logged in,” I sighed. “I’m not sure what I’d say to him if he was online.”

  “You could ask him what’s with the double-oh-seven maneuvers.”

  “He could ask me the same thing.”

  “Anyone home?” T called from the front door.

  “Come in, T,” Mrs. Janowski hollered. “Now we’ll get some answers!”

  T stood in the dining room looking severely out of place. Mrs. Janowski’s dainty dining room set with a matching china cabinet was dwarfed by his presence.

  “Kym said you gals needed help finding a person.”

  “It’s become an even more pressing matter. Mars just received an email from the person in question. He was able to figure out her name and email address. It’s given both of us the case of the willies.”

  “Why don’t you start from the beginning so I understand the whole story? It'll help determine how to proceed.”

  After T settled as delicately as he could on the antique chair, Mrs. Janowski relayed the story while I sat nodding.

  T’s eyes slid over to me every few seconds. He finally leaned over and took my head in both hands, stalling my bobbing.

  “Mars, I’m here to help. Do you understand?”

  “I’d nod but you’re holding my head.”

  “This isn’t like last time. No one is going to harm you.”

  “Then why does my stomach hurt?”

  “Did you eat?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe you’re hungry.”

  “Or maybe a serial killer is going
to come after me again.” I wasn’t thinking it. It popped out like a bursting bubble. Once the words were said, there was no retrieving them. It was as if the Sledge Hammer killer had defiled my walls again.

  “It sounds like a really smart kid got the better of you. I’m going to use both your laptop and computer to see if I can’t track this kid down. I know some guys who can help me.” He let his hands fall from my face. “I’ll take care of everything. Mrs. J., do you have anything for Mars to eat so she stops shaking? I’m sure it’s her blood sugar plummeting.”

  Mrs. Janowski scooted from her chair. “I have all the fixin’s for PP today. I’ll just pop them out of the fridge.” She hurried through the swinging kitchen door.

  “Have you heard from him?” I asked, simultaneously kicking myself.

  His otherwise hardened brown eyes softened. “Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t start wondering about what if’s and why’s.”

  I nodded to strengthen my resolve. “I know. But it doesn’t stop me from wondering why he promised to keep in touch, yet I never heard a word. Not one.” I took a breath. “Just ignore me. It’s a subject that’s been running mind laps. I’ve made up my mind to move on.”

  “Then you’re on your way.” A sympathetic smile turned the corners of his serious lips.

  “Are you still seeing Emmy? I haven’t talked to her in ages.”

  “No. We tried to make it work. All I know is dark alleys and all she knows is sunshine and daffodils. Mixing the two together only brought cloudy days and trampled flowers. She deserves better.”

  “I’m sorry.” I bit my lip to find sympathetic words.

  “Nothing to stress over, Mars.” He patted my hand clumsily.

  Emmy must have worked her magic on T even in the smallest ways. When she first met T, he was a hardened ex-con working for a corrupt mayor. There’s a definite change in his demeanor with his attempts at smiling and hand pats. Perhaps there’s still hope for them.

  “Do you know how to make mixed drinks?” I asked, switching the subject.

  “I know how to drink them. Is this for the bar you’re working for?”

  “Yes. I need a lesson on bartending. The owner just taps beer and pours whiskey. I’ll do a web search later tonight.”

  Mrs. Janowski swung open the kitchen door and presented a sandwich platter. “You both eat whatever you want. I have plenty of extras. I won’t have anyone pass out from hunger on my watch.”

  I happily picked out a sandwich and bit into it while Mrs. Janowski offered advice to T on his next tattoo.

  “Hank?” I called as I entered the bar. The bar was deserted, not even Bob or Mac were perched on their stools.

  Hank peeked around the kitchen door. “You’re late.”

  “How am I late if I don’t have a schedule?”

  “You can turn your tail around and head back out the door. The Blue Thunderballs headed up north for a couple days. There’s no reason for you to be here.”

  “Where’s Bob and Mac?”

  “They decided to follow the gang to see what mischief they’re up to.”

  “Leaving their barstools to go on an adventure? I didn’t think they had it in them.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, neither did I.”

  “Is Jack here?”

  “Yes, he’ll be leaving in a minute. There’s no reason for all of us to be here with an empty bar. I’m not sure where my usual crowd is. We used to have at least a dozen riders at the bar at any given time.” His brow creased.

  “I’ll ask him if he can give me a lift home.”

  Hank gave a tight nod. I walked into the kitchen as Jack exited the freezer door with an empty box.

  “Hey, Mars,” he greeted. “I’m surprised Hank didn’t chase you out of here.”

  “He did. I was hoping you could give me a ride home.”

  “Sure, I’m just heading out. You don’t mind riding on the hog, do you?”

  “Not at all,” I replied.

  “I’m parked in back. I’ll tell Hank we’re leaving.”

  I watched as he pushed through the kitchen door. An envelope on the counter caught my attention. Perhaps it wouldn’t, had it not been for a red stamp across it. Collection Notice.

  Chapter 10

  “Evan?” I called. I dropped my purse on the floor and shut the door.

  Evan’s bike was parked in the driveway, his backpack rested near the table.

  Footsteps jogged down the stairs. “Hey, Mars.” He kissed my cheek. “I didn’t think you’d be home until after bar closing. I was able to take off work and squeeze in some studying.”

  “The bar is dead. Hank sent Jack and me home. I’m rather worried about him. I think he’s in the red and he doesn’t have any customers. Where did they all go?”

  “They might have gone down to Bazonkas across town.”

  “I’ve never heard of that place.”

  “They opened not too long ago. A number of people I know go there all the time.”

  Oh, brother. If Hank’s grungy shack has to compete with a shiny new bar, there’s going to be trouble.

  “Crap,” I muttered. “My almost job is almost gone.”

  “Maybe Bazonkas is hiring.”

  “That’s a thought, but I have a better idea. Do you have time to take me there?”

  “Only on one condition.”

  “I promise to have you back early to study.”

  “That’s not it." He gently pressed his lips to my forehead before saying, "This is an official date.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. I kept my inner smile to myself.

  “That’s it? Okay? I thought I’d have to argue with you.”

  “Would you rather argue?”

  “Not at all. It’s about time you said yes. I am, however, curious as to the reason for the change.”

  “You’re a smart guy; you’ll figure it out.” This time I did let a smile slip. “Let me quickly change.”

  “You look perfect,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

  I dodged before he was able to secure his hold. “It’ll just take a moment. I refuse to go on a date without making an effort.”

  “It’s just a bar.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to dress for a ball. Just give me a minute.”

  “One minute,” he agreed. “I’m coming up if you’re not down by then. If I catch you half-dressed, we might not make it out the door.” I caught a sly wink before I blushed and raced up the stairs.

  My head spun as I yanked off my clothes while simultaneously digging through my drawers and closet. I’m going on a date with Evan. Where is that top? Skirt? Yes. Would it go further than a kiss? Pretty undies. Oh, dear lord, did I shave? Legs are smooth. Okay.

  “Mars, your minute is up. Fair warning!”

  I heard footsteps on the staircase as I flipped my hair and swiped on lipstick. I only had a moments glance at myself before the door opened. The snug red top didn’t quite cross the hussy line and the black pencil skirt hugged a little too well considering I haven’t been eating normal meals.

  His eyes warmed as he walked in the room. I blushed at his deepened gaze.

  “I’m glad I gave you a minute,” he said, stepping closer. “Next time remind me why I should always give you a minute.”

  Next time. He said next time. At least he was thinking there’d be a next time.

  Evan maneuvered in the closet and dug through until he found low cut jeans. “Here.” He handed me the jeans. “I have the Harley today so you’ll need to protect your legs. Keep the skirt out for later.” The corners of his mouth curled.

  “You must have plans for this skirt,” I boldly questioned.

  “Yes, and those shoes too.” He pointed to neck-breaking stilettos I've never worn.

  I felt the blush creep up my neck, heating my ears. I’ve always instinctively known there was a sensuously naughty side to Evan. It had me beyond curious and horribly nervous.

  “I’ll change and be down in a minute.”

&nb
sp; “Who said I was leaving? I gave you one minute.” He kissed the edge of my lips, not disturbing the lipstick.

  The only way I knew how to outsmart a man was to tempt him with his own temptations; that knowledge came from movies and books. I carelessly trailed my finger from the top of his shirt to the bottom. “Don’t you want to see me undress later?” I asked in a slightly huskier tone.

  “I want both.” A sparkle in his eyes caught my attention.

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “And you fell for it. You've been watching the romance channel again; now I can watch you undress later like you promised.”

  “I didn’t promise anything . . . and my cable is out.”

  “It’s a gray area,” he said with a smile that nearly made me forget the faux disagreement.

  “There’s nothing gray about it.”

  “In all seriousness, I won’t make a move,” he promised. “You’re concerned about us losing our friendship. I understand. I’d hate to do something to wreck our relationship. If you become uncomfortable, all you have to do is tell me. Don’t forget to wear sensible shoes or boots.”

  I wasn’t sure if those words comforted me or threw me in an icy shower. Either way, the conversation ended, and he was making his way downstairs.

  I hurried to strip off my skirt and struggled into my jeans. I shoved my feet into tennis shoes and bounded down the stairs to find Evan piling his books on the table.

  “Still pretty even in jeans,” he said. “That red top is . . . maybe we should find you a jacket to wear over it.”

  I peeked down at my shirt. “What’s wrong with my top?”

  “I love the top. I guess I want it for my eyes only.” He walked over, wrapping his arms around me. He might love the top, but I loved everytime his arms were around me. He glanced down at my cleavage which was now embarrassingly in his line of vision. “We better go,” he said. I picked up on a slight groan.

  Mission accomplished, I thought as I strutted out the door with my I’m-gonna-get-lucky swagger. It's a rare move.

  I swung my leg over the bike and settled behind Evan. I was grinning ear-to-ear the entire way to Bazonkas. By the time we reached the bar, my cheeks hurt and my windblown hair was snarled. I didn’t have a mirror to look, but by the way my fingers caught in the tangles, I wasn’t a pretty sight. I found a hair band in my purse and wrapped my hair into a haphazard bun.