Smoke took a seat and hitched one booted foot on the table. It had the ankle tracker on it. “They might as well have left the handcuffs on. Ridiculous.”
Sid downloaded the application Cyrus had sent her. A minute later, Smoke’s location was on the screen. She showed it to him. “Works great. Things are looking up. Now, let’s discuss our current situation... First, whatever you have in mind, you run by me first. Second, you don’t go anywhere without me.”
“I need to hit the head.”
“Third.” She looked at his boot on the table. “Keep it professional.”
He dropped his foot on the floor.
“All right, but I really do.”
“Make it quick.”
He got up. “I missed prison chow this morning too.” He patted his stomach. “I’d really like to have some pancakes.”
She looked at him. “I don’t care.”
He picked up his duffle bag.
“Where are you going with that?”
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to shave.” He rubbed his chin. “This scruff makes me feel dirty. Now that I’m out of prison, I want to feel clean again.”
“That really doesn’t matter to me.”
Smoke walked away and flipped a hallway switch.
“No bulbs.”
Sid heard him checking switches until he finally stopped and a door near the back of the house closed. She checked the monitor on her phone. Good. Inside the file were more pictures of Adam Vaughn. He wore plain clothes and kept a personal network of goons close by. Most of the footage wasn’t the best, as it came from security cameras and the locations were erratic. Different banks. Restaurants—some expensive, others dives. AV seemed to have friends in high and low places. She became engrossed. There were pictures of weapons caches. Unidentified men slaughtered. There were pages of documentation with the letters blacked out.
What good is this?
There was an envelope inside she’d overlooked. She opened it. A brief letter was typed out on bureau letterhead.
Agent Shaw,
Due to the unorthodox arrangement of this assignment, you will need to keep the following items under consideration.
John Smoke is a convicted criminal with special skills. Don’t underestimate him.
You have eyes on him and we have eyes on him. Allow him free range. We’ll let you know if he needs to be reeled in.
If any alien objects or circumstances or individuals are encountered, notify your superiors immediately.
Trust your instincts and good hunting,
The Bureau
“Who on earth wrote this?” She glanced at her phone. Smoke’s beacon hadn’t moved. “It can’t be from the bureau.”
It was a first: a cryptic, unprofessional, unsigned letter. It made her wonder if Cyrus or Jack were playing a joke on her. But the bureau stamp. The make of the paper. She’d seen it before. It was nothing short of top brass bonding. She shook her head.
I guess there’s a first time for everything.
She put the letter back inside the envelope and slipped it into her bag. ‘Allow him free range’, it says. She smirked. He doesn’t need to know that.
There was a squeak from down the hall. The turn of a faucet. The faint sound of water echoing.
Are you kidding me? A shower? Really? I thought he was hungry.
She glanced at the tracker on her phone. Nothing had changed.
One by one, she entered the location coordinates into her phone. Ten minutes later she was done.
Sidney brushed her hair aside. “I need a map.” Her belly groaned. “Someone needs another shake.” She gathered all the items up and stuck them back in the file folder. Calling out, “Let’s get this show on the road,” she made her way down the hall and listened at the door. The shower was still running. She rapped her knuckles on it. “Hey.”
No reply.
She checked her tracker, and it showed no changes. She knocked again.
Her fingertips started to tingle. She drew her gun and tested the door handle. Locked.
“John? John Smoke?”
No reply.
She stepped back and delivered a heavy kick. The hollow door burst open. The mirror was steamed up, and the ankle tracker lay resting on the back of the toilet. She picked it up.
Damn. How’d he do that?
CHAPTER 9
Angry, Sidney ripped the shower curtain back.
Smoke was in there.
“Hey! Do you mind?”
“What! Do I mind?” She looked away and slung the ankle tracker at him. “Put that back on!”
“I didn’t want to get it wet,” he said, chuckling.
“It’s waterproof, imbecile!” Sidney left the room. Her face was flushed red. How in the world did he do that? “Get dressed and get out here!”
“I’m coming,” he said from inside the bathroom. “What’s the matter, Agent Shaw? Did you think all of your plans had gone up in Smoke?”
How did he do that? She stormed down the hall. Paced back and forth. Smoke rattled her. Nothing ever rattled her—until this assignment. Get it together, Sid. Get it together.
A few minutes later, Smoke came out. He was drying his dark hair off with his towel.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I kicked the door in. You didn’t hear that?”
“I was singing,” he said, screwing up his face, “I think. Sometimes I get really into it.”
“I didn’t hear any singing.” She glanced down at his ankle. The ankle tracker was back. “Care to explain?”
“I have my secrets.”
“Do you want pancakes, little boy?”
“Okay, I made some calls.”
Her head tilted over. “How did you do that?”
“I borrowed one of those agents’ phones. The one who got a piece of taser.” He held it out. “He can have it back now.”
She snatched it from his hand and slipped it in her bag. “Who did you call?”
“My crew.”
“And they remotely disarmed the ankle tracker?”
“Sure. Not a problem. And this model isn’t one of the best ones. As soon as I gave them a model number, they laughed. So, they looped the signal and I unsnapped it. Easy peasy.”
“Are you testing me, Mister Smoke?”
“I’m just knocking some dust off, Agent Shaw. We’re going up against something big, and I need to be sharp.” He tossed the towel aside and came closer. “I could have just vanished, you know.”
“True, but then I wouldn’t buy you any pancakes.”
***
“Mmm,” Smoke said. “That’s good.” He stuffed in another forkful of buttermilk pancakes slathered in syrup. He was half through his second stack. “You really should try some.”
“No thanks,” Sidney said again. She took a sip of coffee. She hadn’t been inside an IHOP since she was a teenager. “I’m fine.”
Smoke shrugged and stuffed in another mouthful. Over the past hour he’d proven himself to be the most elusive garbage disposal she’d ever known. He was a bit of a chatterbox too, asking her bizarre question after question that she ignored and dodged until they arrived at their high-carb destination.
She checked messages on her phone. Text. Email. Her niece, Megan, had dropped her a quick text that said ‘Hi’ with a smile and a unicorn. It had been a while since she heard from her. Her sister, Allison, had issues.
“What’s the matter?” Smoke said, gulping down his second Coke and motioning for the waitress.
“Nothing.” She set down her phone. “Tell me about this crew of yours.”
A waitress took away his glass. “I’ll be right back, Hun.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Sure, my crew. Right. Well, not much to tell. Just two friends that help me track things down. They work the inside, and I work the outside.”
“Do they have names?”
“Fat Sam and Guppy.”
“And this Fat Sam and Guppy are the
ones that helped you hack into FBI property.”
He nodded and shoved more pancake in his mouth. “Mmm! I swear, this makes me feel like I haven’t eaten in months. Prison food has no flavor to it. And we never get pancakes or waffles, either. Which do you prefer?”
“Neither.” She straightened herself in her seat. “Are you about finished?”
“Huh? Well, no. This is a carb load. The protein load comes next.” He eyed her and her plate of half-eaten bacon. “You look like someone who knows something about that.”
“Are your friends criminals?”
Smoke sat up and leered down. “No. Why would you say that?”
“I need to know what I’m dealing with. ‘Fat Sam and Guppy’ doesn’t tell me much of anything.” She took another sip of coffee. “You have to admit, it sounds shady.”
“‘Fat Sam and Guppy’ sounds shady to you?”
“Yeah.”
He shook his head. “Well, they say perception is everything.”
The waitress returned with his third Coke. “Anything else, hun?”
Smoke looked at Sidney.
She glanced at the windows. The rain was pouring down, and the chill in her bones had finally faded. She gave him a nod.
Smoke held up the menu and pointed.
“I want this and this.”
“Anything else?”
“I’ll let you know when I’m through.”
The waitress brushed by him. “You do that.”
“Sure,” Sidney said. “You do that. So, you were talking about Sam and Guppy?”
“No, you were talking about them.” He took a drink. “Listen, they are legit. No record.”
“Which implies they haven’t been caught.”
“Sort of, Agent Shaw … or Sidney … or Sid—can I call you that?”
“Let’s keep it professional.”
“Ugh … Agent Shaw, how suspicious are you of this hunt? I mean, think about it. They don’t want you in the office. That limits resources. Instead, they want you to tail me as I go on a hunt. And you said yourself they weren’t following protocol. Doesn’t that worry you?”
“A little, maybe.”
“Good. You’re honest. Frankly I’m a bit worried too. Not in a scared way, but in a ‘I’m pretty sure I’m being manipulated’ kind of way.”
“Then why do it?”
“It’s the Black Slate. Bad people are on that list, and I like the idea of putting them away. Say, mind if I take a look at that file now?”
“Can you handle it while you’re eating?”
“I’m a multitasker,” he said, taking another big bite of pancakes.
She opened her bag and handed over the file. Smoke rummaged through it, his dark eyes scanning the contents. He was an attractive man. Boyish, yet dark. She noted white scar lines on his hands. A broken finger that hadn’t healed well.
“He’s a swarthy-looking Spaniard.”
“Why do you say he’s a Spaniard?”
Smoke shrugged. “He has some interesting haunts, too. Ew, look at all these dead guys. That’s not good. Why did you show me this while I was eating?” He stuffed the papers inside the envelope. “I’m going to need a copy of this.”
“It’s confidential.”
“Really?” He laughed. “I don’t think there is such a thing these days.”
The waitress returned and set down two steaming omelets surrounded by hash browns, all on one plate.
“Aw, you put them on one plate. That was really sweet of you. Thanks, sugar.”
The waitress pinched his cheek. “If you weren’t my son’s age, I’d take you home with me.” She looked at Sidney. “You found yourself a good one here. Big eater. I like a man that lets you feed him.”
“Uh, we’re not …” Sidney started, but the waitress moved on.
“Are you a good cook?” Smoke said, sharpening his knife with his fork.
“I can make an omelet.”
“Well that’s better than the last girl I dated.”
“This isn’t a date.”
“Easy, I’m just making conversation.”
“Let’s stay on point, Mister Smoke.”
“You see, there you go again. Just call me Smoke.”
She held her tongue. She wanted to call him something else, but didn’t.
“Agent Shaw, let me tell you how I expect things to go. I need information and a couple of days. I want to go to my place. Sort through some things. When I’m ready to move, I’ll let you know and … we go.”
“That’s not going to happen. We’re going to go back to the house and plan things out. We only have two weeks to resolve this.”
He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “Ugh. This is why I work alone.”
“And you’d still be working alone if you hadn’t gotten carried away with your last job.”
“Just two days, that’s all I ask. You take some time and I take some time. After that, I’ll fill you in and be more willing to cooperate. Please.”
The letter did say to turn him loose, but she wanted to hang on. That was her nature. Her training. This scenario was the complete opposite of everything she’d been taught. It irked her.
“You can take the ankle tracker off. That’s the biggest problem. Why did you show your cards on that one?”
“Perhaps I was showing off a little.”
“Here’s the deal. You stay in the house. I drop you off. I pick you up. If I show up and the ankle tracker is there but you aren’t, it’s over.”
“I’ll keep it on if you insist, but take a moment. Don’t you see the problem this ankle tracker presents? It’s a distraction for us, nothing more. It doesn’t benefit either of us. It only benefits them.”
“Them?”
“You know,” he said, eyeballing around. “Them.”
I actually understand his point. “I tell you what, Mister Smoke. You finish your meal, we go back to the house, lay out a plan, and we’ll see how it goes. Easy peasy?”
He dug into his omelet. “Good enough for me.”
Her phone buzzed. It was another text from her niece, Megan. Her heart stopped. The text read:
Sorry to bother you, but I haven’t seen Mommy in three days. I’m scared. A frowning icon followed.
CHAPTER 10
“What’s going on?” Smoke said.
Sidney pulled the sedan into the driveway of the house, put it in park, and looked at him.
“Here’s the deal. You go inside. You don’t leave.”
“Come on,” he said. “You’ve been frosty the entire ride. What’s going on? I can help.”
“Get your bag. Get out of the car. Get inside the house.”
Nodding and raising his hands in surrender, Smoke reached into the back seat and grabbed his duffle bag. He popped the door open to the sound of pouring rain outside. “Let me come.”
“I’ll be back tonight. Just go.”
Smoke stepped into the rain, shut the door, and dashed onto the covered porch.
Sidney didn’t wait to see if he went inside. She hit the gas, squealed out of the driveway, and blasted the car through the rain.
“Dammit!”
She was torn. On the one hand, she hated to let Smoke out of her sight. On the other, she didn’t want him in her personal business.
It took her an hour and a half to get to her sister’s apartment, talking to Megan the entire ride. The nine-year-old was tough, but scared. Sidney wheeled into the apartment complex, which consisted of twenty three-story brick buildings, a pool, tennis courts, and a gym—all of which were long past their glory days.
She parked, headed up the grass to the screened patio of her sister’s porch, and knocked on the metal frame of the screen door.
“Megan? It’s me, Aunt Sid.”
A cute little face peeked through the blinds, and its watery eyes brightened. Megan unlocked the door, flung it open, ran outside, and hugged Sidney.
Sidney picked her up and carried her inside.
“It’s all right. It’s going to be all right.”
Using her foot, she closed the door behind her and sat down on the couch with Megan latched onto her. Sidney’s heart burst in her chest.
Allison had better not be using again.
“All right, Megan, all right. You’re safe. I’m here.” She pushed Megan back and wiped the tears from her eyes. The little girl’s long brown hair was braided back in a ponytail. Her face was sweet and innocent with freckles on her nose. “I’m going to take care of you.”
“I-I was doing fine. I even made it to school the last two days, but the storm scared me. I thought Mommy would be home by now, but she isn’t. Do you think she’s mad at me?”
“No, no, no, of course not.” Sidney took a breath. Megan was a capable little girl. She’d learned how to take care of herself when she was little. An independent little thing. “She probably got lost again.”
“Will you find her, Aunt Sid?”
“I will.” She hugged her niece again. “I will.”
Her sister, Allison, was younger. She was a runaway. An addict. A mess. Sidney could never make heads or tails of her problems, but she always tried to protect her. No matter what, Allison stayed in trouble. It was heartbreaking and infuriating.
“Are you hungry?”
“No,” Megan said, “I had some cereal.”
“Do you want to go stay with Nanny and Grandpa?”
“Can’t you just stay here with me?” Megan looked at her with sad eyes. “Until Mommy comes back?”
“I’ll see what I can do, but I have to call Nanny and Grandpa first.”
Megan shrugged. She looked adorable. Little blue jeans. A flowery pink-and-purple shirt. “They’ll do.”
***
Sidney didn’t stick around after her mother arrived. Keeping the reunion short, she hit the road and headed to Allison’s ex-boyfriend’s … Dave was his name. According to Megan, he’d been coming around and staying over from time to time. The last time she’d seen Dave and Megan together, it hadn’t ended well.
If she’s with him, I might kill both of them.
She drove the car into another neighborhood a little better than the one where she’d left Smoke. The sidewalks and driveways made up the edges of well-kept lawns. Leaves were in piles and bagged at the end of the drives. She pulled along the sidewalk across the street from Dave’s house, 104 Dickers Street. The windows were barred. The screen door was a wrought-iron security door. The garage door was closed.
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 1 thru 5 (Smoke Special Edition) Page 4
