Predator Patrol (Mars Cannon Novel #2)

by Nicolette Pierce

  “Do you see anything about Gemini?” T asked.

  “Not so far. This kid is smart. Everything is coded. Hey, what’s her story?”

  T looked over his shoulder at Kym. “She’s married.”

  “What about the other one?”

  “They’re all married!” He growled, patience clearly slipping by the minute.

  “I’m not married,” Ida popped up behind T. Sylvia bumped her out of the way and gave her hair a gentle pat.

  The man cleared his throat. “We should stay on task. Go into the c prompt.”

  “What’s a c prompt?”

  I watched the clock twirling its arms like it belonged in a funhouse. The event was in a few hours, there was no word from Jim regarding Aaron, and we were no closer to finding out what Gemini was. I had to take some control before I became unglued, I thought as I borrowed a pad of paper from Mrs. Janowski’s side table.

  I scribbled a list of last minute event details. There was no way I could handle this especially on pain killers.

  “What are you doing, Mars?” Kym asked. Her eyes dropped just slightly, a sadness stole their twinkling light.

  This was an inner battle for all of us. Kym, in an emotional state to begin with, probably felt the turmoil most acutely. Since I was hovering between throwing up and going Rambo on everyone’s ass, I could only imagine her struggle.

  “I’m writing a list of everything that needs to be done. I don’t know how I’m going to pull this off when all I can think about is Aaron.”

  Ida read the list over my shoulder. “We’ll get it done. Assign everyone a task. It’s better to do something productive than sit around waiting. By the time we’re done, hopefully we’ll have information.”

  I perused the list and began adding names.

  “Put on your big boy pants, girls! We have work to do,” Ida said.

  Each took their assignment and ran with it.

  Kym’s sole task was to annoy the hell out of everyone at Child Protection so they’d place Aaron with her. She was already on the phone with Jim, nagging him with drastic actions if he didn’t start making phone calls. I heard ‘no sex’ pass her lips. She was fully onboard.

  Mrs. Janowski and Ida headed to the Army Surplus store to find the best possible bar-fight vanquishing system. I had no worries they’d find something; I just hoped it was legal. At this point, I didn’t care.

  Edna and Sylvia offered to pick up the gift cards and promotional posters at the printers.

  I texted Evan with a list of liquor to pick up on his way and to double check with Andrea to see if she needed anything.

  I was going to shower and change. It felt necessary after being tossed around in a van with terrifying men. Plus, my shirt was ripped beyond repair. I shivered as my skin remembered the horrid man’s calloused hand.

  Aaron was sure to be online even if he was placed in a group home. It didn’t stop him when he was on the run. It wouldn’t stop him now. I’ll check messages and the website after my shower.

  My thoughts strayed to the event. Setting up wouldn’t take long. It’s not like I had to hang banners and ribbons or setup tables and chairs. Liquor, super soaker, prizes, and people. That’s it. A thread of relief circled. This was going to be a breeze. And, if I admit, it should be a fun event.

  T’s phone rang. “Pick it up,” he said.

  “I’m on my way out the door.”

  “Pick it up. I finally figured what the hell a c prompt is. Don’t make me use my angry voice.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  He scowled.

  I snatched his phone and pressed answer. “T’s phone.”

  “Sweet thing?” A smooth voice asked. The velvety rich sound was a tickling feather to my senses.

  I shoved the phone to T’s ear. “It’s for you.”

  “T here . . . yeah, that was her.” He shot me a distinct look that said “coward”.

  I headed slowly to the door.

  “Something’s going on. Even little Aaron didn’t flinch when he saw Grub. Aaron called out ‘Gemini’ before he was abruptly whisked away by Child Protection . . . She’s fine. Just a little banged up.”

  I put my hand on the door knob. I didn’t need to hear the rest.

  “Want to talk to her?”

  I yanked open the door.

  “She’s attempting to run away . . . You are? . . . When?” T eyed me.

  I froze.

  “Yeah. I hear you. Bye.”

  T refocused on the screen.

  “Is he coming here?” I asked, immediately regretting it. “Never mind! I don’t want to know. Just make sure he stays far away.”

  I hightailed it over to my place and cried in the shower for a solid ten minutes. It didn’t solve anything but released the growing tension. I can’t believe I’m such a cry baby. My rib throbbed from the exhausting weeping.

  I hurried into the bar with T following close behind. I wasn’t able to get in touch with Aaron, and T didn’t find out anything about Gemini. We were no closer.

  Unfortunately, the event had to take priority. There were a handful of patrons in the bar already.

  Bob, Mac, Hank, and Jack were on ladders holding a large fishing net. Mrs. Janowski and Ida were shouting instructions on attaching it to the ceiling.

  “Would you hens stop clucking for a minute?”

  “If you’d just wrap the rope around the little wheel thing, you’d be done!” Ida barked.

  “Just hold the dang rope so the net doesn’t fall. I don’t see why we need this stupid thing.”

  “Shut your flapping jaw and finish.”

  I stood, watching and wondering. When they were finished minutes later, the net covered nearly the entire ceiling. A rope was strung through a pulley to hook near the back of the bar.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” Mrs. Janowski exclaimed.

  “I’m assuming this is the bar-fight vanquishing system Ida and you picked out.”

  “It’s cheap. Fast. No one gets hurt.”

  “Is it legal?”

  “Are nets illegal?”

  “Good point.”

  “Jinkies! Where’s Fred and Daphne?” Evan laughed. I whirled around and hugged him lightly . . . my rib couldn’t withstand large hugs. A bag of liquor halted him from returning a full embrace. “I love this reaction when you see me.” His head dipped to kiss me. Andrea removed the bag from his arm.

  “Get a room,” she said, setting the bag on the bar.

  “Andrea, thank you for coming to help,” I said, removing myself from temptation. “Jack is just putting away ladders. Let me show you the kitchen.” She followed me through the kitchen doors and stopped.

  “This is the kitchen?” She looked down at her shoe as she peeled it from the floor.

  “It needs a little cleaning,” I admitted.

  “A little?”

  Jack strode in from the backdoor. Both of their eyes widened and then narrowed in recognition.

  Andrea stepped away, her back rigid and her shoulders defiant. Jack glared.

  “I have a feeling you know each other.”

  Tension swirled the air.

  “We took a culinary class together,” Jack said. His unwavering gaze focused on Andrea.

  “It was a long time ago,” Andrea sniffed and turned to leave. “I won’t work with him.”

  “I won’t work with her,” Jack retorted.

  “Wait!” I blocked the door. “Please, just for tonight.”

  Andrea glared back towards Jack. “I’ll never work with him! Please move out of my way.”

  “Evan!” I shouted through the door, blocking Andrea.

  Andrea crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest. “Don’t bother calling in reinforcements. There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind. I’m out of here.”

  Evan strolled in. “Need something, sugar?” His hand found the nape of my neck and stroked till I wanted to purr. Unprofessional, I thought and shook the wonderful feeling away.
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  “Please find a way to make Andrea stay and work with Jack,” I pleaded.

  “I won’t work with him, Evan! Don’t bother.”

  Evan glanced between the hostile chefs. He chuckled. “This is Jack?”

  Andrea nodded, still fuming.

  “Evan, you know this is Jack,” I said.

  “But I didn’t know he was the Jack. I don’t know if I can help. Perhaps it’s better if I work in the kitchen instead.”

  “I need you to help with the wet t-shirt contest.”

  Evan beamed. “You heard the lady. Figure it out.”

  Andrea bristled, brushing past to leave.

  Evan exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair. “Andrea, if you help in the kitchen, I’ll do the thing you’ve been hounding me to do.”

  “One hour every day for a month for either the lunch or dinner rush,” she demanded.

  He winced but nodded.

  “Okay. I’ll stay,” she said defeated, though pacified.

  “You’re going to owe me big,” Evan whispered low and soft in my ear. “And I mean big.”

  I shivered. “It can’t be that bad.”

  “And don’t you dare try to back out,” Andrea said, poking Evan in the arm.

  “Jack, are you okay with this?” I asked hopeful.

  “I need the help,” he admitted. “As long as she understands this is my kitchen, she can stay.”

  “Who’d want this grease pit?” She returned.

  I plastered on a smile. “Okay, you two try to have fun. Please keep in mind the kitchen can be a dangerous place, so level heads, yeah?” I scooted out the door with Evan. “They’ll be okay, right?”

  “Andrea will be. I’m not so sure about Jack.”

  “I’m afraid to ask what she’s going to make you do for an hour every day.”

  “Dress in a ridiculous artichoke costume and dance on the corner with a sign.”

  My head fell back as I laughed. Sexy, handsome Evan dancing in an artichoke costume. It was too much. I’ll have to take pictures.

  He leaned in. His lips grazed my throat, catching me in mid laugh. “Like I said, you owe me big. Redeemable only in the bedroom.” When he saw my eyes widen, his lips curved. “Don’t worry. You’ll enjoy it as much as I will.”

  Heat simmered.

  “Mars?”

  I froze at the voice. Mom.

  “Mars, who is this handsome man? Don’t tell me you have a new beau and didn’t bother to mention him.” She saddled up to Evan. “A man this handsome probably has some great genes. Mars has good genes too, don’t you think? Think of the possibilities.”

  “Diane,” Dad coughed. “Maybe you should introduce yourself before planning his offspring. You’ll have to excuse her; she’s adjusting to new medication. I’m Mars’ dad, Tim.”

  “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Evan West.” They shook hands.

  Shouting from the kitchen had everyone staring in that direction.

  “I should probably see if there’s a problem in the kitchen,” Evan said, excusing himself.

  “Mom, you’re not on medication, are you?”

  “No, your Dad’s just overreacting. So, who’s the hunk?”

  “I met him about six years ago at work. He’s been a friend ever since.”

  “Do all your friends nibble your neck?”

  I cringed. Help me survive this night. “We’ve been seeing each other this last week.”

  I detected the soon-to-be-a-grandma light beacon in her eye. So did Dad.

  “Diane,” he said gently, “we’re here to help Mars, not bother her about her relationships. What is it you want us to do, Mars?”

  Edna and Sylvia shuffled in the door with a package from the printer.

  “For right now, can you help Edna and Sylvia place the promotional tents on the tables and hang the posters on the wall? Afterwards, I’ll need you to help serve food.” I ushered them over to Edna and let them divvy up the work.

  Curtis and Emmy arrived. T stood motionless at the door. His eyes twitched between her and the door.

  “Would you look at this place?” Curtis exclaimed as he breathed deeply. “Old, dirty, and soon to be packed with rough men. And they say dreams don’t come true.”

  I hurried over. “Thank you both for coming.”

  “I should be thanking you,” Curtis said with an eye over my shoulder.

  “It’s no big deal,” Emmy said. “McCain Events hasn’t been the same since you left. We don’t have any events booked the entire weekend.”

  “Why’s that? You both have excellent sales skills.”

  “Jocelyn is completely dominating all areas. I think she’s trying to prove she doesn’t need you. We haven’t had a normal day of work since you left,” Emmy said. Her eyes drifted to T before they shot back to me.

  Did T just blush? Must be the light.

  “Let’s dive in,” I said. “Curtis, you take point on kitchen and bar. Emmy, you take point on front of the house and contestant registration.”

  “Not the kitchen again!” Curtis groaned. “I hate the kitchen.”

  “There’s an unbelievably hot chef in there working up a sweat.”

  His brow arched. “How hot?”

  “Ponytail and muscled.” I had Curtis nearly convinced. “Tight jeans . . . big Harley . . .”

  “Okay, okay! I’ll work the back.”

  “T, you’re in charge of Emmy’s safety,” I said. “Make sure to stay near her all night long.” I turned with a huge smile after seeing their jaws drop.

  “What about the door?” T asked with the slightest quiver.

  “Gloria and Willow will take care of the door. Since Grub is out of the picture, there won’t be any issues.”

  T’s eyes bulged as if wanting to pop out and punch me.

  Emmy glanced up at T. “It’s okay. I don’t bite, remember? Well . . . only once, but you forgave me.”

  A smile tugged on the corner of T’s mouth. Emmy, a little porcelain doll, disarmed T.

  Gloria, Willow, and Kirby from the flower shop arrived. I gave them each a warm welcome and their assignments.

  “Where do I set up?” Kirby asked.

  I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Doesn’t matter. Just one more detail to iron out.

  “Hank?” I hollered. “Where’s the sound system?”

  “Back here,” he hollered.

  I led Kirby around the bar. Hank pointed to a corner. We both ducked down to view it.

  “Rather dusty,” I observed.

  “Rather retro,” Kirby added.

  Kirby puffed a large breath at the dust, kicking up a cloud. He broke into a coughing fit.

  “We’ll just leave the dust there for now,” I said.

  “Dude, where do I plug in?” He asked, holding his iPod. “Do I slip it in the slot?”

  “No. I think that’s an 8-track player.”

  “Wicked! How do I get the music in there? I have way more than eight tracks.”

  A pot clamored in the kitchen followed by a burst of bellowing.

  “Sounds like Jack has his hands full,” Hank said.

  Chapter 21

  By the time the contest was underway, the kitchen was too busy for squabbling, Kirby had his DJ station operational, Renee and one of her busty barmaids showed up to help Hank and Ida tend bar, and customers were flooding through the door.

  The demographics were a bit off. Between the seniors from the center, the bikers, college students, and everything in between, it appeared . . . odd. But, a glow of success grew in my core.

  Willow held a driver’s license. “An Aquarius. Don’t make any big decisions today. Tomorrow will bring clarity.” She let the confused biker through. Brandy held out her ID. “Oh, a Gemini! You have a chance for an adventure. It won’t be easy and the price might be more than you bargained for, especially if it’s love.”

  I grinned as Brandy took her license back with a quirked brow.

  “Willow, are you checking the dates on the li
cense while giving out helpful astrology forecasts?” I asked. “Only twenty-one and over can pass through.”

  “I have been. That woman is a snake,” she said with the same willowiness as her name.

  “Brandy is nice but perhaps a little confused. I wouldn’t call her a snake.”

  Willow’s gentle smile touched her lips. “I was speaking of her Chinese sign. She was born in the year of the snake. It makes her Gemini characteristics much more poignant.”

  “Can you tell me the significance of the Gemini sign?”

  “All signs are significant,” she said thoughtfully. “Gemini presents two distinctive sides to his or her personality. You can never be sure which one you're going to come face-to-face with. Just like Brandy. She’s hunting for love but craves independence. It can be a tough sign to navigate.”

  I thanked Willow and let her continue with her forecasts.

  Two distinct personalities, I thought as I began my walk through. Perhaps two businesses. Or two people. Grub and . . .

  Kirby’s voice, magnified through the speakers, announced the contestants.

  “Contestant number one is Cloe! She’s twenty-two and digs men with Harleys!”

  Cloe did a little shake to show off her attributes. Hoots and hollers rose.

  “Contestant number two is Allyson! She’s twenty-one and loves men. Keep me in mind, Allyson.”

  Allyson sashayed with a hair flip. Hoots and hollers rose again.

  “Contestant number three is Irene! She’s twenty-something three times over. Wait . . . am I supposed to add this?” Kirby asked. “Well, figure it out yourselves cause I don’t do math. Irene loves her new night vision goggles and . . . Hey, is this for real?”

  I bolted over to the contestant line up.

  “Mrs. J.! What are you doing?”

  “We didn’t have wet t-shirt contests in my day. My knockers would’ve won everytime.” She gave a wave to the crowd. A jovial, good natured cheer answered. “You should join in; it’s never too late to whoop it up.”

  “I’m working.”

  “You’re always in work mode; never in play mode. You asked me once what my secret to life is. It’s never growing up. I might have to grow old, but I’ll be damned if I have to grow up.”