She nodded under his chin. “Assuming Crystal behaves.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Crystal sing-songed from the bathroom.
Shit. Mac released his roommate and winced. “Super hearing. Keep forgetting about that.”
“And there,” Melanie said pointing toward the voice, “is your tie to IGP.”
In other words, their daycare’s future… his future… hinged on Crystal’s cooperation, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
____
Crystal gave Mac a sideways smirk from the passenger seat. “I know what you’re thinking.” Though he said nothing, she sensed his wheels turning. “How can a little girl like me have so much power over your life?”
Mac harrumphed, draped a wrist over the wheel.
“I still can’t believe you’re a freakin’ babysitter,” she continued with a laugh.
“Daycare worker,” Mac corrected while headlights zoomed past them through the windshield.
“And, what do daycare workers do? They babysit.”
He frowned. “I happen to like it.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with that, I just think it’s…” She paused, cocked her head. “Cute.”
“My boot up your ass won’t feel so cute if you screw this up for me.”
The words echoed in the hollowed service van they borrowed for their evening drive to Lesico.
Her brow went up. “Hostile. You’re a hard man to figure out, Mr. Truck.”
Another short laugh. “Never been accused of that before.”
She turned in her seat to get a clearer perspective. “You’re capable of violence. I’ve seen plenty of that from you, but I’m beginning to think your soft side is what defines you.”
“I can’t believe you’re analyzing me, Elsa,” Mac threw back.
Crystal caught the flinch before it fired. Elsa was no more than a missing person who’d been deemed a cold case long ago. A nobody who’d become somebody under the cruel handling of a scientist and her drug. She’d explained it over and over again when Rena had tried to bring her around the day before. Elsa was dead.
But, refusing to veer off subject, Crystal continued softly, “You killed a man last night. You aren’t bothered by that?”
Mac’s grip on the wheel relaxed. “It was either him or us.”
But she could sense something… an undercurrent of angst he was very good at masking. “You’d have no problem killing again as long as it was to protect the ones you love.”
“Nope.”
“And you’d kill me just as easily.”
“Yep.”
Ouch. “And then you’d go to work the next day, change diapers and finger paint with your kids.”
This trip grew more interesting by the mile. Crystal resettled beneath the seatbelt. “Tell me something.”
Mac kept his focus straight ahead.
“Have you killed before?”
“None of your business.”
Which meant yes. “Were you military?”
Exasperation turned to anger. He stomped on the brakes, held up a finger as cars honked and swerved around them. “Let’s get something straight, Crystal,” he seethed, hazel eyes burning with malice. “We aren’t friends. You don’t get to grill me. As soon as this little adventure is over, our association is done. You got that?”
So, the killing thing was a touchy subject. Crystal leaned over, fixed him with a wide-eyed look beneath the thick makeup. “Can I tell you something?”
His finger came down.
Her confession came out a whisper. “I’ve never killed anyone before.”
The anger shifted to strong doubt. “Derek said all ghosts are trained to kill.”
“Trained,” she agreed. “But I couldn’t go through with it when the time came.” Her “failure” had been overlooked when Angelo covered for her. “The man you killed last night was my partner.”
Mac swore under his breath.
“Angelo killed my mark for me when I choked and he lied about it. Saved my life in the process.”
With an uncomfortable laugh, Mac lifted the faded ball cap he wore and scrubbed his head. “This just keeps getting better and better.”
The guy got creeped out pretty easily. Crystal quickly allayed his fears. “I have no animosity toward you, whatsoever.”
“Sure,” Mac grumbled and put the van in gear. “He was probably your boyfriend or something.”
“Nah, too serious for me. Possessive. Lethal. Not to mention gay.”
Mac’s brows lowered an inch.
“His lover hated me. It was quite an uncomfortable threesome and Angelo was too guarded to get close to.”
“But he saved your life.”
Her shoulder moved. “Eh. I served a purpose.”
“Which was?”
A huge grin split her face. “Now look who’s asking questions?”
“Well…” Mac blustered, leaned into the curve that would take them to Lesico. “You put it out there.”
“Next you’ll be showing me your tits.”
A reluctant smile formed beneath the mustache. Crystal laughed loudly, feeling as if she’d just moved a mountain.
All amusement was gone when Mac put the van in park. Lesico Labs was two blocks over. The grounds of the polished industrial park were decorated with bulbous street lamps and colorful landscaping. During the day, park benches gave respite to Springfield’s white and blue-collar elite, but not a soul would dare them at night. Even this area was prone to boogeymen.
And Mac was in the company of one.
There was a time he would have shivered at the thought, but Danny had made him stronger. Melanie had given him purpose. And Austin had given him a chance. Before that, his life could have gone down many unsavory paths, but luck had proved to be on his side numerous times over the past few years.
God willing, she’ll stick to her guns tonight. “Whatever you do, don’t hurt the woman,” he said as Crystal sheathed the knife at her ankle. “Just locate her and bring her to me.”
“While you question her, since she probably won’t trust me. I know, Mac.”
He grabbed her sleeve before she could pull the handle. “If you run into trouble, just keep the ghosts distracted. Remember, we only have a twenty-minute window.”
Since Mac had disabled the dome light, the van remained in darkness when Crystal exited.
“And, Crystal?”
The woman in black held onto the door, muttered over her shoulder, “I know, I know. Be careful.”
He blinked. “I was gonna say don’t fuck up.”
She turned toward him, quietly shut the door and puckered her lips with an air kiss.
He expected to keep her in sight for quite some time, but within half a second she’d simply vanished. Went up in smoke. Poof. “Damned ghosts,” he muttered, lowering the ball cap over his eyes.
Mac drove up to Lesico’s guard shack and rolled down the window. “Chuck with Repair Care,” he said distractedly, searching through a stack of papers.
The guard scanned the identifying sticker on the side of the van. “You got a PO and ID?”
Mac produced them.
Time eked by while his papers were thoroughly checked. The longer it took, the clearer it became this was no minimum-wage guard.
Come on you prick.
The man flipped a page. “You’re a day early.”
“It’s an assessment only.”
Another Repair Care vehicle pulled up behind Mac, this one a utility truck complete with welding equipment. The security guard waved when the window came down. Mac knew the driver was familiar with Lesico security and was vouching for him as they spoke. As head of Cahill Salvage, Austin had a longtime partnership with the repair company and, knowing Lesico was one of their biggest contracts, he’d called in a favor.
The security guard appeared at Mac’s window and handed everything back along with a clipboard. “Just sign here and you can go on through.”
As soon as both vehic
les parked in back of the main production building, Mac got out and circled around toward the other driver. The man had a trusting face, which made Mac a little wary.
In a low voice, he asked, “You Luke?”
“Here as promised,” Luke answered, showing off a thin band of hair as he looked around. “Austin said this wouldn’t have a negative impact on me or my business.”
Mac doubted this side of Lesico even knew what was going on. “We’ll be in and out before you know it.”
Twenty minutes later, he was sorely regretting those words as he walked the floors of Lesico’s batching room. Paper swished between his legs. The cleanup crew was hard at work. High-powered hoses sprayed the concrete floor forcing him to walk through an occasional billowing mist of whatever harmful material needed washed away. Within seconds, his white sterile suit and facemask were coated, which made him feel like a giant cotton swab. At least he blended with the other masked cotton swabs.
Luke had given him ten minutes to find Crystal, who’d been gone far longer than planned. A crude map of sorts etched his memory, and he knew the door at the end of the hall was where he wanted to go.
Once it closed behind him, he pulled off the netted mask, took a cleansing breath of fresh air. Well… not so fresh. It smelled like hot machines and carpet stains, but those things probably wouldn’t give him a rash later.
It was impossible to see in the dark windowless room, at least until his eyes adjusted. He was definitely in an office, the many desks only discernable by the glowing pinpoints of light from individual telephones and computer monitors. Just as he palmed the knife he carried in his waistband, pain pierced his skull. His surroundings seemed upright until the floor hit his face. Hard.
With eyes still open, he could see something pass by the tiny lights, blocking them for a moment. Confusion. Indifference as the knife left his grip.
“Sorry, Mr. Truck,” he heard faintly. “Change of plans.”
When the lights flickered on, four black-garbed figures stood above him. Apprehension tightened his gut. Mac looked from one mushroom-shaped hood to the next. Though their features were obscured in darkness, two things stood out plain as day: these ghosts radiated ill intent… and one of them was Crystal.
Her petite frame was ridiculously small among the others, but he knew she was just as capable of putting a blade between his eyes. I’ve never killed anyone before, she’d said, but he was now pretty sure it was all bullshit.
The stink of betrayal caused anger to swell, bleed up his neck until the willies no longer ruled. When he opened his mouth, Crystal spoke over him.
“He has information about Rafferty.”
What? He hadn’t totally believed it… until her words confirmed it. Mac lifted onto his elbows and glared out his hatred.
“Anything you can’t tell us?” came from the tallest ghost in the middle.
“Just the location,” Crystal answered mechanically. “I was blindfolded when we came and went.”
“Looks like this isn’t his first run-in with us. That wound looks like one of ours.”
In fact, Rafferty had given Mac that cut above his left ear, but how the hell could they tell that?
“Take him to the think tank. We’ll deal with him there.”
Mac decided the think tank was a place he didn’t want to be. With a snarl, he got to his feet and took a swing at the nearest ghost. Something pressed against his side, delivering a jolting, painful current. The floor came up to slap him again.
Confusion scrambled his brain as he was dragged into what seemed like a closet. No tiny lights were in this room, just pitch black. His body felt like tar, but a fierce determination to live bubbled to the surface, awakening his muscles enough to lash out. Another current punched him all over, again ending his attempts to escape.
Pain and fatigue ruled, allowing things to happen without the control to stop it. Mac was able to comprehend the paper suit tearing from his body. A florescent light came on overhead, revealing a small, carpeted room filled with gray beanbag chairs. They were moved aside while Crystal brought in an upright chair and they hauled him into it—a feat that took all four of them to accomplish.
“He’s a big sucker, isn’t he?” one said.
“Bigger they are, the harder they fall,” Crystal muttered with cold indifference.
Handcuffs bound his wrists to the metal frame.
“What’s his name?”
“Mac,” Crystal obliged, tying his left ankle to the chair leg while another ghost worked on the right.
“And his last name?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to beat that out of him, too.”
Mac lethargically looked down at the stun baton pressed firmly to his chest. One false move and he’d be juiced again… but, what the hell.
With a strength born from hatred, Mac tore his left foot away from Crystal’s grip and slammed it into her midsection. She flew back, impacted heavily with the wall behind her. Instead of doling out another jolt, however, the other ghosts laughed. In a shot, she was on him, delivering a backhanded slap that hurt much worse than it should have. While Mac moved his jaw around, her chest heaved with anger and she leaned in close.
“I owe you that,” she whispered just inches from his mouth, “and so much more.”
“Then you better get your licks in now,” he growled in answer. “Because I’m not living through this.” Since he’d never disclose Rafferty’s location. That would mean leading them straight to a house full of the people he loved.
Her lips quirked beneath the shadow of her hood, then passed over his in an open, flowy kiss that ended before he could back out of it. “Stay agreeable and you’ll be fine,” she said then hopped off his lap.
The light above was turned off, leaving Mac to await their next move. Though he was blind, he knew they were not, thanks to the drug in their system.
Holy shit.
Anticipation began to eat at him, just like they wanted. This was it. He was about to die, not in combat, or in a bar fight, or beneath the tires of heavy construction machinery… No, nothing cool like that. It was to be at the hands of a smallish woman with separation issues. What kind of fucked up world did he live in?
“We’ll need plastic,” Crystal suggested. “These offices open in the morning and we shouldn’t muddy up the workplace.”
“Where do they keep it here?”
“I don’t know. I just got back. Why don’t you go ask the maintenance crew?”
It wasn’t a suggestion, but the other ghosts didn’t take kindly to her orders.
“You go ask,” a male voice retorted with heat. “I’ll get started here.”
“Bullshit,” Crystal argued. “You need to wait until we’ve covered the room.”
“I won’t draw blood until you get back.”
But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt. The door opened and Crystal’s silhouette lingered against the lighter backdrop for a moment. Then, commanding assistance, she disappeared with the other two ghosts. Left him to deal with a threat he couldn’t see.
“How would you like to start this… Mac?”
He searched the dark. “How about with the standard ‘fuck you’ and we can go from there?”
A low laugh punched through the man’s chest as he unsnapped Mac’s denim shirt. “You’re a funny guy. Especially since you expected to sneak through these premises unnoticed, knowing who we are, what we do.” The presence bent closer. “I guess you forgot… we don’t miss much.”
“Maybe when you’re lookin’,” Mac sneered as the shirt was peeled down his arms.
But, did they know about Derek’s rescue the night before? Had Crystal filled them in on his survival? How much would she have told them when half of it would have branded her a traitor?
Something cold pressed into Mac’s exposed chest and another current raced through him. He jumped, grimaced as he fought against the painful contraction of muscles. Once it stopped, he drooped in the chair, two hundred-plus pounds o
f dead weight.
“The one time we blinked,” the ghost replied smoothly, “you killed Angelo. And for that, Crystal wants first crack at you.”
Once Mac was able to unscramble the words, he slurred, “Felt like… first crack to me.”
“Nah. This is nothing compared to what she’ll do to you.”
Shit.
“You see, she has her own special brand of electric torture. She calls it ‘The Soloist’.”
“She’s not gonna… try and sing is she?”
Laughter followed the remark, which Mac didn’t think was all that funny.
“Well, you’re half right. Let’s see if I can expand on that for you. When a man has a ground wire attached to his big toe and a hot wire around his testicles, who do you think will sing when she turns the dial?”
Holy Mary. “Thank God,” Mac slurred bravely. “I was getting nervous for a minute.”
A few agonizing seconds passed. Blue light zapped before his eyes, but he was still too weak to flinch.
“Are you thinking about the validity of the answers you’ll be giving us?”
He managed an, “Uh-huh.”
“Good. Because all we want is Rafferty. Cooperate, and no one else has to get hurt.”
“Okay,” he conceded in the dark.
“Wow. You’re such a big guy, I thought you’d be tougher than that.”
Without the ability to see, Mac couldn’t predict his tormentor’s next move. Not that he’d be able to prevent it… “You wanna know where your boss is or not?”
The air around him changed as the ghost knelt before him. “I do.”
“Probably exiting the ass-end of a coyote by now.”
It took a moment to sink in. “You’re saying he’s dead?”
“We didn’t know he’d shut down so fast without his pill.”
Dim light entered the room when the door opened. “He’s lying,” Crystal said woodenly, hood flaring over slim shoulders. She plunked a roll of plastic onto the floor and kicked it open. Mac noticed she held a rectangular box in her hand. “Rafferty’s alive, I saw him with my own eyes. Give me a moment alone with Mac. If I can’t get the truth, you guys are free to draw blood.”
Crystal Mac: A prologue novella to Captive Series Book 3 HELL'S HILLTOP Page 3
