Dead In Plain Sight: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (I Fear No Evil Book 4)

by Martha Carr

  “I miss him too. Tell him, I’ll be back soon.” Lily led the way to another entrance to the tunnels, leading Shay through the maze, splashing through standing water in her good heels. She was still too relieved to still be breathing and to see Lily again to care. Shoes can be replaced.

  She came out a mile down and pulled out her phone to text Purity Cleaners. They could make a quick run through the alley if they hurried and clean up the mess. Her car would be waiting for her at a previously agreed location.

  She put away her phone and hugged Lily. “You don’t need to choose. You can do both. We’ll work it out. Just come back.”

  Shay found her car waiting for her two blocks away from where she got out of the Uber. When she rolled into Warehouse Two, she was disappointed to not see Peyton. She wanted to tell him she saw Lily.

  She’d thought he was finally through with his issues regarding showing up at a decent time.

  They didn’t exactly work in a normal office environment, but she needed him to be available and ready to work, especially now that they were racing against Project Nephilim and Project Ragnarok. A reliable assistant would assure both survived the next few years.

  Why isn’t your shit together, Peyton? I’m trying hard not to let the Empress of All Bitches out, so please don’t force me to release her.

  Shay frowned and poked her head in the office. Osiris sat in Peyton’s chair, staring at the tomb raider. If it were possible for a cat’s face to be described as surly, the orange tabby’s fit.

  The cat hissed.

  Shay flipped the cat off. “Stop looking at me like I’m an intruder, cat. This is my building. I own it. Your master works for me, which means you technically work for me.” She threw her hands up. “And now I’m arguing with a cat. Love it. Such a great use of my time. Really.”

  Osiris meowed and hopped off the chair. The cat strutted past her like he was the owner of the building, and hissed once more before running under a table.

  “You’d better run, you stupid animal,” Shay muttered. She shook her head. “And this is why I hate pets.”

  The pleasant smell of pepperoni drifted from the pizza oven.

  Shay blinked. “If he’s cooking he must be around here somewhere, but does he really need to make pizzas in the morning?”

  Peyton was, if anything, becoming more of a pizza freak than even her. She liked eating pizza, but cooking pizza? Not so much.

  It took time and devotion to master the fine art of pizza-making, and she’d never found the time.

  No. I didn’t want to find the time. He’s made the choice, and he’s gotten better. My time’s better spent learning parkour and history than pizza-making. Don’t need the redundant skill set.

  Peyton turned the corner from the hallway and waved. “Hey, Shay. Sorry. Was just in the bathroom.”

  It was hard to ignore the flour on the end of his nose. She didn’t care. She was still alive with no new holes.

  Shay pointed toward his face. “Do I even want to know what that’s about?”

  “What?”

  “There’s something on your nose.”

  Peyton rubbed the flour off with his hand.

  “Do I want to know what that’s about?” He pointed at her shoulder and the stains on her shoes. “You taking on a side job before breakfast?”

  “Something like that. I ran into Lily.”

  Peyton’s face lit up. “Based on your clothes, did that go very well?”

  “Well enough. Got a promise out of her to come back… under her terms.”

  “I really like that girl and her misfit magic act.”

  Shay gestured to his outfit, which consisted of Gucci loafers and Gucci skinny yellow jeans. “I get it. This one makes sense, for once. It’s supposed to be an Italian theme.”

  Peyton beamed. “Exactly. See? I put a lot of thought into what I wear, but I don’t think you always realize that.”

  “Oh, I realize it, but that’s not the same thing as liking it or having the theme make any sort of sense.” Shay chuckled. “And what was up with the flour on your nose? You practicing snorting drugs before you move on to coke or dust?”

  Peyton laughed. “Nope. It’s all about pizza. I’ve been working on flour and crust lately.” He rubbed his hands together. “I found some new recipes and realized one of my issues is that all my ingredients aren’t premium, so it’s inspired me to change my strategy. The new Pizza King Peyton is all about premium.”

  “Premium?”

  “Yeah, like the olive oil I was using before. The olive oil we get in America is a joke. I might as well just have used spit.”

  “That’s a bit strong.”

  “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

  “So what’s your solution?”

  Peyton smiled. “I had some shipped from Italy, along with several types of specialty flours.”

  “You really need several different types of flours for your pizza?”

  “Yeah. Totally. Some flours work better for different types of pizza. I’ve been doing a lot of experiments to figure what goes with what, and I’m slowly learning.” Peyton paced and gesticulated. “The thing is, the flour’s the foundation of everything. A house with a bad foundation’s going to collapse eventually, and a pizza with a bad foundation’s not going to taste good. So, yeah, I need to find the perfect flour if I don’t want crap pizza.”

  “No one wants crap pizza, but you’re seriously gonna keep importing ingredients?”

  Peyton waved a hand dismissively. “No, I’m not importing ingredients. I’m importing the key pieces of the foundation of a potential culinary masterpiece.”

  “Your hobby’s getting expensive, but I guess it’s cheaper than coke, heroin, or dust.”

  “There can be no compromise when it comes to pizza.” Peyton grinned. “You taught me that.”

  “I haven’t seen any Chicago-style abominations from you, so there is some hope.”

  The man stopped pacing. Shay began to wonder if he were even paying any attention to her.

  Peyton looked up. “Sourcing quality ingredients are one thing, but that’s just part of the puzzle. You can have the best ingredients in the world, after all, and still produce garbage pizza.”

  “And what’s the other part, then, oh aspiring Pizza King?”

  “Timing and patience.” Peyton walked over to the pizza oven. “I was in too much of a hurry before. If you want a perfect crust, you need perfect dough. You need perfect flour for that, but even with that, you also need to give it proper time to rise.”

  “And that’s what the nose flour was about?”

  He nodded. “Exactly. I’ve been experimenting, and I’ve found that letting it rise most of the day makes for the best dough.”

  “Most of the day?”

  Shay gave him an appreciative nod and whistled. The few times she’d made pizza, she hadn’t put anywhere near the care Peyton was describing into the process. It was no surprise that she’d been unsatisfied with her efforts.

  Peyton bobbed his head. “Yes, most of the day. But you have to be careful, or disaster can strike.”

  Shay laughed. “Disaster? It’s just pizza. It’s not going to explode. Even your worst efforts just tasted awful. They didn’t poison me.” She tapped her bottom lip. “Then again, you managed to set the warehouse on fire, so that could easily have been a disaster.”

  “That was the old me, not Pizza King Me.” Peyton shook his head. “And I was talking about being careful with the dough. Avoiding taste disasters.”

  Shay crossed her arms. “How does a Pizza King avoid a taste disaster?”

  Peyton lifted a finger. “By ensuring his dough doesn’t overrise. It’ll throw off the flavor and texture, so you have to keep an eye on it.”

  “So, in other words, you’ve spent a lot of time babysitting dough?”

  “That’s one way to look at it.”

  “And what way would you look at it, then?”

  “I prefer to call it foundation
monitoring.”

  Shay laughed. “Is this what you do all day when I’m not around? Just fuck around with pizza?”

  “Not…all the time. I mean, I do other stuff.”

  Shay didn’t mind, but she enjoyed poking Peyton.

  Still, despite the horrors he’d unleashed in his first few attempts, he’d gotten damned good at making pizza, and it was a nice treat. Admitting that the pizza oven had been a good addition might be too much, but she wasn’t going to complain when she was getting such good food with no effort on her part.

  “Speaking of timing…” Peyton grabbed his wooden pizza paddle. “Looks like the pizza is ready.”

  “Smells good,” Shay admitted. “Very good.”

  “I hope you’re ready for ham and pineapple.” He flourished the paddle like a sword.

  “Do you want to die immediately, or should I stretch it out to make you suffer your crimes against pizza-kind?”

  Peyton laughed and slipped the paddle under the pizza. He pulled it out, revealing pepperoni, just as Shay had smelled.

  “That’s what I thought,” she commented.

  He slid the pizza into a waiting tray. “Oh oh oh…I actually forgot the most important ingredient. The true foundation. The foundation under the foundation.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Water. You need the right water.”

  “And what’s the right water? Distilled?”

  Peyton mock gasped. “The Queen of Pizza doesn’t know the answer to that question?”

  Shay rolled her eyes. “I eat it, I don’t make it. What water are you using, Pizza King?”

  “I needed water from the homeland of true pizza, so I’ve been importing Neapolitan water.”

  Shay burst out laughing. “You actually flew in water from Italy?”

  Peyton sniffed. “It’s a small price to pay for quality pizza, and I stand by all my choices.”

  The delicious pepperoni scent saturated the air. The arrangement and density of the toppings were masterful. The thickness of the cheese was perfect.

  Her stomach rumbled. If the pizza tasted as good as it smelled and looked, she might have to acknowledge Peyton as the true Pizza King. Damn. His understanding of the intricacies of the art at least qualified him for consideration for the position.

  “Slice that bad boy up,” Shay ordered. “All your fancy talk is nothing without a taste-test. We’ll see how worthy you are of—”

  The office computer screeched a klaxon, and Peyton ran into the office and dropped into his chair. His face scrunched in confusion and his fingers flew across the keyboard. Shay followed him in, annoyed and still hungry.

  “Damn it,” Peyton muttered under his breath.

  “What the fuck is going on? If it’s that fucking Frenchman, I’ll fly to wherever he is right now and put fifteen fucking bullets in his head for messing up my morning.”

  Peyton shook his head and continued to type. “I wish it were Durand. At least then I wouldn’t be so worried.”

  Shay threw up her hands. “I guess I should say it again, and maybe you’ll answer. What the fuck is going on?”

  “It’s my brother’s guys. They’re…better than I thought. Or maybe he hired new guys. I don’t know.”

  “Meaning what, exactly? How are they better than you thought?”

  “They’ve bypassed a lot of my misdirects and proxy servers. They’re getting closer, and…” An alarm popped up, a pleasant chime accompanying it. Peyton’s eyes widened. “Oh, sonofabitch! You’ve got to be kidding me! Shit, shit, shit.”

  Shay crossed her arms. “Talk to me, Peyton. What the hell is going on? Are they through your defenses?”

  “No, they aren’t.” Peyton scrubbed a hand over his face. “You see, I’ve got alerts set up on my name in addition to all the network defense stuff.”

  “And?”

  Peyton looked over at Shay. “And I’m no longer dead.”

  “Huh?”

  “You fake-killed me, but the authorities have reopened the case and reclassified me as missing rather than dead.” Peyton slumped down in his chair. “No wonder my brother’s so obsessed with finding me. All this stuff is tying up a portion of the estate. As long as there’s even a chance I’m alive, it screws up his inheritance.”

  Shay narrowed her eyes at the screen. “I’ve let this shit go on far too long. Don’t worry, Peyton. I’ll take care of this. I’ve got you.”

  FINIS

  Justice Served Cold

  Did you know that Martha and Michael have another Oriceran series? Check out Justice Served Cold - Book One in the Rewriting Justice series.

  Order Now at Amazon

  Author Notes - Martha Carr

  Written July 11, 2018

  My brain is on reserve powers… There’s only a week and a half till the first move – yeah, first move. Lots of packing to do while working a day job and writing and (my fave part) chatting with you guys online. I’ll be putting everything into storage and moving into extended stay for a month while the new house is finished. (Yes, there’s a cancer operation mixed in there somewhere. I’ll think about that later) Good news is I’ll have a lot less to do while I’m there. We’re just gonna stick with the good news.

  I don’t know that I’ve felt this tired since the Offspring, who’s 30, was a baby. Moving is as hard as it looks but after a year long journey of figuring out where I really wanted to be – I’m almost there!

  That’s the cool part. No matter where you are, or what your circumstances might be – if it’s not quite right (or it’s really flaming not right), you can take steps to get to somewhere else. Talk to trusted advisors who will talk to you about solutions and not about what might go wrong. That’s not helpful.

  I used to think that looking for problems ahead of time was not only helpful, it was necessary. What I wasn’t getting was that kind of futurizing was stealing my present-day joy and helping me to overlook what was getting right. My head was turned in the wrong direction.

  It also makes it harder to stick with a good idea that’s having some hiccups, which means I missed out on good ideas in the past just because I didn’t stick around long enough.

  New strategy. Why plan for problems that aren’t even happening? How about if I wait till they show up, if they show up and do something then? Very new thinking for me. Goes against all those business, rah rah, let’s win against everyone else books, I know. I’m okay with that. I’m adopting the Anderle method in its entirety. What if everyone wins?

  Frankly, if I stick to my journey that’s what will happen. Sure, there will be rough patches and outright failures but when they show up, I’ll ask for help, take in the data, make course corrections and go on. Like now – all is well, sure I’m a little tired but that’ll pass. Just going to keep doing the next right thing in front of me and before you know it, I’ll be past the surgery, in the new house.

  Just to give some perspective to those who may be looking at where I am now thinking, sure, sure – how hard could it be to go from one house to the next… during the Great Recession there was a time when I was down to a bed, a dresser and two and a half chairs in a small apartment, no car and was diagnosed with terminal cancer that time. Things evolve even when it seems like it’s happening at a snail’s pace. It’s still happening, and it adds up. Keep going.

  Thanks for taking the ride with me. More adventures to follow.

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  Written July 9, 2018

  THANK YOU for not only reading Shay No. 4 (sounds like a perfume to me) but also reading through to these author notes in the back.

  I’m writing these notes while waiting for a flight back to Vegas (I’m at DFW Airport). I’m starting them in the Centurion Lounge (American Express) in the D terminal. Apparently, a storm came through and shut down the C Terminal for about forty-five minutes, knocking our flight over to the D (International) terminal.

  This week, LMBPN has only two (2) books being published, and they are both �
��Shay” books. Book 04 comes out in just four days. Unless you are one of the first to read this book, it’s probably out already (July 13th this week. No comments about Friday the 13th folks!)

  After this week, we have six weeks where we publish a book (planned) all but three weekdays. Something like twenty-seven books in six weeks if everything goes right. I hope we pull this off, as we are setting ourselves up to change how we publish moving forward, and we are going to implement changes this year, in anticipation of next.

  The first change we are looking (I am looking) to change is when the $0.99 day(s) are held. Right now, we started doing emails for all books when they publish and then sending an email.

  We can’t possibly do so many emails next year, for both your sake and ours.

  So, I’m looking to change our $0.99 days for EVERY new book released that week to Saturday. So, if it comes out on Monday or Thursday, or Friday, it won’t matter. It will be on sale on Saturday. I’m looking to do three emails each week. One will announce what is coming out, and give you a chance to set a reminder (I REALLY hope we figure this out) on your calendar when it comes out for Kindle Unlimited (or purchase) during the week, OR to a button to put it on your calendar to remind you to grab the book on Saturday.

  If this works as planned, you won’t have to worry that you missed a $0.99 sale during the week. You will know that it hits on Saturday.

  I have to admit; I’m hoping like hell that this works for you as readers. With such a BHAG (Big Hairy Audacious Goal) as four hundred books in one year, we have to streamline like crazy sonsabitches to not crater our Indie Infrastructure.

  We aren’t Hachette or one of the big five publishers…. We are LMBPN (the tiny little feisty publisher that can.)

  So, changes are coming—ones that I hope get you MORE excited about our stories and continue to engage you as fans of what we do.

  I have more to tell you, but that will probably happen in another book ;-) Until NEXT time…