Hard Wired

by C. Ryan Bymaster

  If you liked the second installment of the eMOTION series, please give it an honest review on Amazon so others will be willing to give it a read.

  As always,

  Thank you for your continued support!

  Please turn the pages for an excerpt from the next full-length Fifth and Dent novel,

  eMOTION: False Positive.

  I hoped you have enjoyed the second Fifth and Dent installment.

  The third Fifth and Dent novel, False Positive, will be available November 2014.

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  Please enjoy this excerpt from eMOTION: False Positive

  “Aisle fourteen … aisle fifteen … aisle sixteen.”

  He turned down aisle sixteen and scanned the shelves, looking for the chocolate-covered pretzels. And there they were, right where a mother and daughter were standing, also perusing the snacks in that area. The mother, he took immediate notice of. Perfect Goldilocks age — not too old, not too young, maybe just a bit older than his own thirty-two years.

  He sauntered over their way.

  The two women paid him no mind, going about their gabbing about sugar content and dietary points. He took a deep breath through his nose, once, twice, and a third time. Still they went on, oblivious to him.

  Which was expected. Something to which he’d long ago gotten accustomed, though it still riled him.

  He reached over, grabbed the bag he wanted, and leaned back, his movements oblivious to the two women. A few seconds later, he had the bag open and shoved a few pretzels in his mouth. He walked past the women and was about to turn the corner when he stopped and grinned. He couldn’t pass up this opportunity.

  He took a few steps back, needlessly looked around, then reached down, grabbing a handful of Goldilocks’s ass.

  Now that got her attention. She turned, her face a storm of indignation, a curse on her tongue.

  “What the hell?” she screeched, eyes as wide as her mouth as she stared at the man who’d seemingly appeared out of thin air and felt her up.

  Her outburst had drawn her daughter’s attention to him. And now that his presence had been made known, she started screaming at him, as well. Like mother, like daughter he supposed.

  He laughed at the sight, which only drew more screams and curses from the two women. Before one of them decided to actually take a swing at him — which at least three out of four women usually did — he back-stepped to the edge of the aisle, turned crisply on his heels, and disappeared around the corner.

  But apparently Goldilocks and her daughter weren’t going to let him get away that easy. Feisty little things, they were. He grinned all the wider. They rushed around the corner to the aisle he was standing in and he almost laughed at the slack-jawed, confused looks they both wore when they came to an abrupt halt, eyes scanning what their senses told them was an empty aisle.

  Goldilocks shook her head. “Where …?”

  “He came down this aisle, mom,” the daughter proclaimed with absolute certainty. “Maybe he ran?” she added, now with a bit less certainty.

  Less than three feet away in front of them, he shook his head. There were positives to his … affliction. His talent. He winked, though they we ignorant of his action, popped a pretzel in his mouth and turned, leaving the two confused women to their confused jabbering.

  He made it to the end of the aisle and turned down the main walkway. He still needed to get deodorant, toothpaste, socks, and ….

  “Son of a bitch!” he snapped, rubbing his hip where some idiot ran into him with a shopping cart.

  “Sorry, buddy,” the idiot stammered, looking left and right as he tried to figure how a man suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “I swear, I didn’t see you.”

  Famous last words, he thought.

  And then there were the downsides to people not being able to register your presence. He was tempted to reach over and snap the man’s neck, only the sudden ringing of his phone stayed his hand. He flipped the idiot off, ignored the indignant responses, and headed back down the walkway, searching the headers for the deodorant section while digging out his phone.

  “Yep?” he answered.

  “Ingram. Where are you?”

  “Just passing the shampoo aisle.”

  “Ingram.”

  “Fine, fine. I’m in some backwater city along the highway.”

  “No luck with locating them?”

  “Nope. After the motel incident, Dent took off with Kasumi like a bat out of Hell. I didn’t get a chance to tail them. Too busy putting my nose back in place. That bastard broke it.”

  “I’m sure the ladies still find you irresistibly handsome.”

  “Takeda, Takeda, Takeda.” He smiled at her jibe as he shook his head. “Did you call to harass me?”

  “No, Ingram. I called see where you were and how close you were to a city called …,” he heard her tap a few keys all the way over in Japan, “… Graftsprings, Utah.”

  “I’ll have to check my GPS.”

  “Head out there. Check in when you’re in the area.”

  He found his brand of deodorant, slipped it into his pocket, and began the hunt for toothpaste. He asked, “What’s in Graftsprings, Utah?”

  “Chisholme had a test subject in play out there.”

  “Had? And was it anyone I knew?”

  “Dent shut the operation down. And no, I don’t think you ever met Connor. He was not in your … class.”

  Ingram shrugged, even though Takeda couldn’t see. He passed by the cologne section and stopped. Something else he’d needed. And something that could be fun, in its own way. It was entertaining to see people stop and sniff the air, trying to determine why they smelled cologne but didn’t notice anybody walk by.

  He ran a finger over the plastic-and-glass security case, scanning the bottles and boxes inside. “What do I do when I get there?” he asked his employer.

  “Keep at the ready. As soon as anything pops up indicating Dent or Fifth, I want you there.”

  “Will do,” he replied, his voice a little strained as he had to break the plastic security bracket to get to the cologne he wanted. He grunted with effort and gave the plastic a harder tug until it finally snapped. The sharp crack drew the attention of a man walking his way but, other than a cursory glance and a confused look, the man didn’t do much else.

  “Is everything okay, Ingram?”

  “Fine. Just shopping. Like I said.”

  “I don’t want you drawing unwanted attention to yourself.”

  This time he laughed aloud. The woman could do stand-up comedy, if she ever gave up her current line of work.

  He heard her give an exasperated sigh. “You know what I mean,” she told him.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you when I’m in Utah.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Yep.” He clicked off and went to pocket his phone, only the deodorant was already there. Looking around, he saw a woman put her basket down to pick up an item from the shelf. He walked over and snagged the basket for himself. In the next aisle, he dumped her items, put in the deodorant, the open bag of pretzels, and the cologne, and decided he might as well fill the basket while he was there.

  Twenty minutes later, his basket full, he walked past the registers, grabbing a pack of gum as he did, and on toward the exit. He would have filled a shopping cart, but that sometimes drew attention. Baskets and bags rarely drew a second look. But shopping carts did. Maybe it was the size of the cart that drew attention to him. It simply might be too obvious a thing for people to ignore, giving them something for their brains to focus on, which led to them inevitably notice the man pushing it along. His curse could only do so much.

  Just ahead, the automatic doors slid open at his approach and he s
miled.

  Now, automatic doors, he loved. Maybe, when this whole Kasumi fiasco was finished, he’d talk to Takeda about having some automatic doors installed in the house she’d promised him.

  For Ingram Weiss, the man that Kasumi had — unbeknownst to him — named Noman, automatic doors offered something that people did not.

  They took immediate notice of him.

  He didn’t have to go to extremes to get a response from them. He didn’t have to inflict pain on them to get noticed.

  But then again, automatic doors could be so boring in that same respect.

  ---

  Cherry Bobseyn was over at the nail salon, and since Kasumi Takeda didn’t feel like having her nails done — more like she was embarrassed because she chewed on them all the time — she told Cherry she’d be back, that she wanted to grab a soda a few shops down in the strip mall. Cherry waved her away, telling her to be careful.

  Like anything could happen, really.

  Kasumi left the blonde girl — well she was older than Kasumi so she guessed Cherry was a woman, and since Kasumi was fourteen now, she was practically a woman, too. Anyways, she left her friend, her only true friend she’d had these past months other than Dent and headed to the mini-mart.

  As she walked, careful of the cracks in the sidewalk, Kasumi thought about how dismal her life had become. Running from people who wanted to lock her away and study her for what she could do, with only Dent as her stable friend. He’d started this all by kidnapping her, but now that he knew she was in danger, he’d learned his lesson and became her guardian.

  It was tough, she thought, trying to teach him how to be a normal person. But that was how she would repay him for risking his life to save hers. Dent would keep people like Mister Chisholme and Noman and even her own mother from capturing her and she would make him less, well … Denty. It was part of their unwritten contract. Except, as time went on, she was starting to think she had the harder part of the contract to uphold.

  She sighed, just as the automatic doors of the mini-mart sighed when they opened at her approach. She stepped in, looked around, and gave a small shiver at the amped-up air conditioning in the place. She waved to the young man behind the counter on her left and spotted the fountain drinks over on the far right corner of the store.

  By the time she wound her way through the short aisles to the drinks, she had a bag of flaming-hot chips in one hand and a pack of winterfresh gum in the other. Tossing her goods on the narrow counter near the nacho cheese dispenser, she grabbed the biggest cup available and stared at the soda machine. Today she’d go for a “suicide” — a mix of every drink this place had to offer. It’s what her old friends back in Japan use to call it. Back when she had friends, back when her mother hadn’t locked her away in the hospital.

  Shaking those dismal thoughts from her mind, she started to fill her cup. She was onto the third dispenser, a pink-lemonade sports drink, when she heard someone give out a half-yell back near the front of the store. Curious, she turned that way, and noticed a woman two aisles over do the same.

  Kasumi couldn’t see over the aisles, she was only a touch over five feet, but she could see the woman’s face, and the taller woman apparently had a clear view of what was happening. The woman gave a yelp and dropped something that sounded like canned tuna or spaghetti.

  “You!” a man called somewhere near the front of the store. “Get over here. Now!”

  The woman shook her head and cold realization hit Kasumi, almost making her drop her cup of mixed soda.

  “Get over here or I swear I’ll blow his brains out!”

  The woman started to whimper. She looked to Kasumi for help, for support, for anything, but Kasumi stood frozen.

  The woman looked back to the registers when the man screamed out, “I won’t tell you again!” When the woman looked back, Kasumi was gone.

  By the time Kasumi worked her way to rear of the store, her back was drenched in sweat and her palms were as slippery as eels. The guy at the front hadn’t seen her, and if the woman kept her mouth shut, he would never know Kasumi was there.

  Side-stepping her way to the very first aisle, Kasumi carefully peeked around. Sure enough, some guy was holding up the place. And, like the guy had taken lessons from every B-movie ever made, he started to yell things like “Empty the cash register” and “Stay where I can see you.”

  If it wasn’t real, Kasumi would have laughed. Laughed and peed her pants, to be honest. She’d seen what bullets could do in real life. This wasn’t some movie. And as long as that guy had a gun, they were all in danger. Best thing to do was to hide. She wasn’t Dent. She had no desire to get shot. She slowly began to tuck her head back behind the aisle when she saw the small feet shuffling in front of the woman.

  Shit!

  The woman had a kid with her.

  Kasumi ducked away, her breath coming in rapid beats. What if the gunman decided he didn’t get enough money from the robbery? What if someone did something to piss him off? That young kid could get hurt.

  Kasumi may not be Dent, may not be able to calmly assess situations like this one and figure the best way to take out the bad guy, but she wasn’t helpless either. And she wasn’t about to let that young kid get hurt.

  Calming her breathing, she wiped her palms on her pants and shut her eyes. She fought the fear and the anger that was gripping her and forced them away as best she could. Her heart slowed a little and her back stopped dripping with sweat. Opening her eyes, she found a focus for her emotions. She couldn’t think like Dent, but she could sure as hell try to act as calm as he would in this situation.

  With an image of Dent in her mind, she stepped from behind the aisle, into plain view of the gunman and the guy behind the register. She walked forward, as casually as she could, though the sight of the gun as it glinted in the sunlight streaming in through the front windows almost made her lose her resolve. The guy behind the register noticed her first. A second later, the gunman swung her way, gun leading …