"I think you are," she wasn’t sure how she’d managed to get so close to him but she regretted it because he was far too close for comfort, or at least so close that she should have been uncomfortable given he was a complete stranger. Problem was she was in fact not uncomfortable at all, he reached over to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail behind her ear and she didn’t care, she liked it, she should or would have been disturbed by that kind of proximity usually.
"I have a boyfriend," she blurted out fully aware that she was doing it as a last ditch attempt to save herself from giving her number to someone that she could tell already if he called she would answer, which was odd because unless it was a work related call that was not within her usual habits either.
He quirked a brow at her not at all convinced, "really," was all he said with that look as well as a small smile. She wasn’t sure at all if she should be insulted by that response, apparently to him she looked un-couple-able. She supposed that she shouldn’t be surprised that he would think that, she had just thought moments before that he was too attractive to be bothering glancing in her direction, so of course he would think that someone like her was a secluded shrew. Although outside of Malcolm, which had been her only serious relationship in a long time, she had focused her attention on work. And the only other male she did have outside of work in her life, but she hardly thought most people would consider in the same category as a male suitor, was a canine. In general her dog, named Khan by her cousin, was more of a boyfriend deterrent in keeping a boyfriend than not. Her dog didn’t much appreciate the male sex for some reason or other, as a matter of fact the only male she hadn’t seen him try to chase off was her cousin, those facts were making the shrew category seem like a good fit.
"Sorry to disappoint," she finally did smile because she found she liked being able to tell him off. She was just beginning to think that she was going to win this round and he would have to give up on her, the thought made her smile but when she did he smiled back, that couldn’t have been right. "So I can’t, you know," she paused awkwardly but he didn’t seem to understand what she meant. "I can’t give you my number," she finally finished when he didn’t immediately remove himself from her proximity.
"Just a boyfriend," he asked with what she was beginning to suspect was a mischievous smile.
"Huh," she was confused, she didn’t think that anyone had ever put this much effort into trying to get anything out of her before, well, she could certainly think of a couple of people who had been this persistent in trying to kill her but that was all. She was getting ready to say something intelligible, or at least she was sure that she was when the bell rang at the door that she’d entered and suddenly Marcia was behind her.
"Jennifer the boys are...." her sentenced died off the minute she saw the distraction that had kept Jennifer planted in the building despite her promise that she’d only be five minutes.
"Jennifer," the stranger smiled again apparently fine to completely ignore the mention of boys.
"That’s me," Jennifer managed to say without sounding too sour or turning to offer some rebuttal or other to her co-worker.
"And this is," this time he aimed his smile at Marcia and Jennifer hated that she felt something in her twist that his attention had shifted away from her, that should be exactly what she wanted.
"Marcia Cruz," her co-worker introduced herself, offering her hand to him, which he did not hesitate to take. Although instead of shaking like a normal person he brought her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the knuckles. Jennifer felt her ire rising and knew without a doubt this was the moment with which she needed to excuse herself.
"My friends call me Ethan," he offered, that pleased smile still lingering even after he released Marcia’s hand.
"It’s very nice to meet you Ethan," Jennifer glared back at her co-worker when she drawled the line out like a purr. Now that she thought about it however she couldn’t deny that these two were a better fit for one another. Marcia was all pristine beauty, she had skin that was flawless and copper-toned, raven colored hair that shined nearly blue it was so black and almond shaped eyes that tilted like a cats, surrounded in thick black lashes. Marcia was around the same height as herself and possessed a figure that was well displayed because of course being the group medium and potential negotiator allowed for a certain kind of wardrobe that Jennifer would admit she probably wouldn’t wear herself even if she could. Marcia wore a nicely tailored suite that hugged her perfect curves, it was a subtle shade of blue that seemed to bring those natural high lights out of her hair. To finish the ensemble the woman was wearing an insanely high pair of heeled shoes that would make escape if necessary impossible. In comparison Jennifer would always be found lacking, she was in jeans, t-shirt, and running shoes because she did a lot of running. She shouldn’t be surprised at all that the beautiful man in front of her had so quickly had his attention diverted from her.
In order to kiss Marcia’s hand he had removed himself from the slot that had kept her from paying for her drinks and escaping, so without hesitating she passed the clerk a five dollar bill knowing that it would cover the two drinks and hoped that she could snatch them from the counter and dart out the door without waiting for her change. She was just about to grab the drinks and do exactly that when Marcia pulled a pen from out of her purse and Jennifer stupidly paused as unexpected anger boiled up in her. She realized that she had not been listening to anything the two had said to one another while she was handing over the money and couldn’t believe how angry the idea of him asking for Marcia’s number made her. She tamped the ridiculous urge to lunge at her co-worker and.....Jennifer stopped, the thought of lunging for a coworker disturbing her, lunge and do what? Had she really been about to contemplate violence over a man she didn’t know, that was not like her.
Blanking her thoughts out Jennifer forced herself to stand by stoically while her co-worker scribbled, presumably her phone number, on the strangers hand. "Thank you," she listened to Ethan thank Marcia with that crooked smile that was so drop dead gorgeous and tried not to feel like the loss of his attention had thrown an eclipse over the sun. "Who knows how long I would have had to keep her here to get her number." The words made Jennifer’s brain stall, and without thinking she pushed herself off the counter to stare at what Marcia had written on his palm. He did not try to hide the hand, thank god because she wasn’t sure what she would do if she touched him but sure enough a glance at his palm revealed her cell number scribbled there.
"That’s my number," she blurted stupidly, why was that her number?
"That’s happy news," Ethan drawled not at all perturbed by the fact that she was staring at her number dumbfounded.
"Why is that my number?" She felt like an idiot asking but what on earth was Marcia thinking giving her number to a random stranger.
"Your friend says you and your boyfriend broke up," he gave in answer with a shrug.
"She..." Jennifer barely contained the urge to lunge at her co-worker this time. She did not know Marcia particularly well so this seemed peculiarly personal for the two of them.
Marcia shrugged and smiled trying to look demur but failing considering her back-stabbing not moments before. "Your phone is ringing."
For a moment there wasn’t a sound and she was fully aware that her phone was in no capacity ringing, but without missing a beat Jennifer’s phone rang as if on cue. Jennifer sometimes forgot that Marcia saw things before they happened or sensed things before they happened or whatever it was mediums of her caliber did. Without hesitating Jennifer pulled out her phone and answered, sure enough Zip was on the line. She could picture him back at his terminals where he worked monitoring police radios and city cameras gathering information for the purpose of finding their monster. "Ryan," Jennifer quickly announced in her usual fashion over the phone and nearly smacked herself in the forehead when she remembered the stranger named Ethan was still hovering and would now know her last name as well.
"I’ve got our guy," Zip’s voice was muffled by the sound of electronics buzzing in the background but Jennifer paid close attention as he rattled off a location.
"We’re on our way, keep me informed if he moves," Zip did not say anything further simply hung up and she did the same. She turned to tell Marcia that it was time to go and found that the woman and both her drinks had already disappeared out the door. Out of habit she went to follow and pulled up short when the stranger placed his hand on her elbow. If anyone else in the world had done that she would have reacted differently but his hand on her made her knees feel weak and instead of decking him like she aught have she simply froze in place.
"I will be seeing you soon Jennifer Ryan," he said it so matter of fact that she couldn’t dream of denying that he was probably right, she hadn’t realized that she was nodding until he smiled and released the loose grip he had on her. "Be safe out there in the dark Jennifer," his words probably should have struck her as odd but she chose to ignore their meaning and instead ran out to meet the others by the pumps. She knew for a fact that Zip would already have text the location to Malcolm so when she stumbled out by the van she was not expecting to be greeted by a smiling Marcia and a fuming Malcolm.
"What was that about?" Malcolm asked without moving, clearly furious with her although for what she couldn’t be sure, Marcia was the one who had given Ethan her phone number.
"Not now Malcolm, it’s time to go," she waited praying that he wouldn’t be stubborn at a time like this.
"Here you go," Marcia quickly handed Malcolm the drink that Jennifer had made for him. "Yours tastes like shit by the way," she offered to Jennifer as she passed handing her the drink before hopping in the van and sliding the back door closed behind her.
Jennifer didn’t wait for Malcolm to say or do anything she simply tossed the coffee in her hand in the trash and made her way to the passenger side of the van hoping that ignoring him would make him get in the van and drive. It took him a little longer than she would have liked to get over himself but after a minute he was moving toward the drivers side door, a scowl communicating that he was far from over the issue.
Chapter 2
Jennifer wasn’t sure what exactly she should have been expecting, she was a fraction of the way in her seat when Malcolm revved the van to life and charged out of the parking lot. The passenger door which she hadn’t yet managed to close slammed shut striking her arm so hard it shot an answering spike of pain through her injured side. Again it took everything she had not to gasp in pain and she swallowed back the tears that were threatening to come pouring down her cheeks. It hurt like hell and took a minute before she could breathe evenly enough to reach for the seatbelt, but once she could breath she did just that. When she was strapped into the seat she turned a glare on Malcolm but said nothing, it was not an argument worth having since she was in fact injured and she wasn’t about to give him anything he could use against her.
She took a moment to try and convince herself instead that he hadn’t given her the chance to situate herself because he was trying to get them there as quickly as possible in hopes of saving some lives. It was exactly the kind of thought that she used to have about him before he’d revealed to her what a selfish bastard he could be. "Who was that guy at the station?" He finally blurted out yet again proving her wrong as apparently he’d taken off in a rage because the sight of her through a window with a random stranger had elicited a temper tantrum.
"Nobody," Jennifer grumbled hoping that he’d drop the subject so she could try and put her focus on where she needed it but before Malcolm could take it further Marcia did.
"That was Ethan, he was very charming by the way," at the last additive Jennifer risked searing pain in her side to turn in her seat and glare at the other woman. She bit her lip as the pain lanced through her but it was worth the quailing look she shot the woman.
"He was a complete stranger," Jennifer bit out only relinquishing the cold glare she pinned the other woman with when Marcia blanched and looked away. Once that was accomplished she turned in her seat and went about trying from that moment on to ignore Malcolm beside her, of course he wouldn’t let her.
"He didn’t seem like nobody," he all but growled so Jennifer turned her eyes on him, wishing like hell that he would leave the subject alone.
"We have bigger concerns," Jennifer tried to keep the ice out of her voice but she was past her breaking point with Malcolm at this point. She knew for a fact that the current look she was aiming Malcolm’s way would shut him up because he’d confessed to her on more than one occasion that he was uncomfortable with the current look on her face. He had compared it previously to Manson’s concentrated glare when the big guy was gunning monsters down. She couldn’t say that it was a notion that pleased her that he had felt like she wanted to kill him, but it had its uses now that they were broken up.
"I’m sorry," Malcolm gritted out and she hated that he was only letting it go for now, at some point he was bound to bring it up again.
Looking away Jennifer tried to take a moment to focus, ignore the pain, ignore her ex’s drama and just put herself in an empty space in her own mind. She didn’t want to say that the rest interfered with what needed to be done. People kept telling her that it was good to have something to hold unto outside of her work, that it was in fact unhealthy to cling to work like a safety net. She had visible proof that this was true, Manson despite his cold death stare had a wife and a daughter, they kept him grounded, kept him human, Clive had a wife and two sons. Both preached the importance of a life outside this one, she knew they were right and so she’d tried but she was beginning to wonder if being more like Tom, who was the job, didn’t have its own merits. After all she wasn’t like Manson who had earned his stone cold look through years of survival and combat, she felt as though she’d been born with hers. That wasn’t true she knew, the day her father died was the day that emptiness had been born in her, and the worst part was that even though she’d been five years old when it happened she couldn’t recall what had taken place that day, she knew with certainty that it had been violent but couldn’t recall the details. She knew only that one day her family was gone, mother, father and older sisters all gone. She didn’t try too hard to remember what had happened, she didn’t think she wanted to know what it was that had created the thing inside her that made her more than just capable of doing this job but made her good at it. Of her family there was only her cousin and herself left and he was perhaps her last close standing human relationship left outside of work. She could try and count Tom in there as she’d known him since she was little but it would, in the end, be like claiming a government issued killing machine as a loved one. So her cousin, her dog, and this job was all there was in her life and the more time she spent exposed to Malcolm the more she was coming to believe that was the best thing for her. "How long till we get there," she asked trying to break the silence without tempting whatever Malcolm’s problem was back to the surface.
"ETA ten minutes," his answer was angry and clipped but to the point.
Jennifer nodded, it was time for her to start putting her gear on if she wanted to be able to head out as soon as they arrived. Without another word she unbelted herself and stepped back to her own seat, then grabbed one of her many weapons of choice from the pouch on the vans door where she kept them. It was only big enough to hold her M9 9mm Beretta, it was a standard military issued pistol. It held a fifteen round magazine, she shifted the weapon from her left hand to her right, testing the weight. The pistol, loaded and all, weighed almost three pounds, she was curious if her right hand could handle the weight right now for more than a few minutes. She put a round in the chamber and clipped the safety on, her right arm was just going to have to deal with it. Her regular arsenal, to her standards had been cut off a great deal since yesterday. Yesterday she’d had an M16 with her 5.56 caliber, maximum range of 300 yards 900rpm, capable of both full or semi automatic. It had been a shame to lose the rifle, it w
as really almost heartbreaking. She’d had the rifle for almost two years, maybe it sounded stupid but she missed the thing. She even had a nifty M79 grenade launcher that fit unto the M16 like a glove, who ever said men didn’t accessorize with anything. Damn she missed that rifle, the grenade launcher wouldn’t be as useful without it. She had plenty of other weapons at home that she could use otherwise but the M16 had been her favorite. She had to stop thinking about the rifle, it was distracting in a sense that it was like losing a limb.
She wasn’t as loaded with weaponry as she usually was, it meant she’d have less to ditch if her and Manson had to cut and run like hell; but she had no intention of running this time. She turned in her seat and grabbed the bag that lay behind it, out of it she pulled first a BlackHawk Omega Triple pistol mag Pouch. Without hesitating she hooked the pouch on her belt and strapped it to her leg, then she stuffed as many of the M9's mags in as she could. Next she pulled out a holster that she’d had custom made to hold the M9. Not really costume to fit the gun but her, she was too petit for any that could be found in a store, it too strapped to her thigh and hung from her belt. Her cousin made a bad habit of saying it looked very much like something a cowboy would wear. Or the analogy that he seemed to love most of all, that it was identical to something Han Solo’s character from Star Wars had worn. Her cousin, though a priest he was, was one of the strangest people she’d ever met, everything was referenced to some science fiction movie or show or other from when they were kids. She had dozens of holsters that would hold the Beretta where she could easily get to it but this one was her favorite. If she could get away with wearing it in public she might, but she wasn’t a cop or a soldier and it was just too blatantly out in the open. Right now she wasn’t going to have to worry about concealing any weapons so she wasn’t going to try. She had the hip holster on her right side and the ammo pouch on the left. Her right hand was usually the one she drew fastest with, that was questionable tonight, but she didn’t trust herself to draw left handed fast enough to risk it.
Revenant's Kiss (Chronicles of the Afterlife) Page 3
