Hyper Lynx (The Lynx Series Book 6)

by Fiona Quinn

  Slowing to a stop in front of the red light, I looked up at the new construction, thinking about how I would walk this sidewalk to the library, pulling my red wagon behind me to load up with books.

  In the blink of an eye, I remembered the kitchen at my old apartment. It was a day after dad’s funeral. Could there be information here?

  I let the memory engulf me:

  Spyder pushed open the door to the apartment with his arms full of grocery bags. He ducked his head to cross under the doorframe and moved directly to the kitchen to put away the food he’d brought. “How is she?” he asked, referring to Mom.

  “Conflicted.” I focused back on the task of reading medicine bottles and making sure I put them in the labeled plastic prescription boxes in the correct numbers so Mom’s medication would be dispensed precisely.

  I felt Spyder waiting for more information as the cupboards opened and then shut.

  “She was all geared up to die, and now she doesn’t feel that she can. She missed her opportunity.” I snapped the lids shut on the pill dispenser. “She wants to go on and be with my dad, but then where would I be?”

  The water ran at the sink, then stopped. “Is your mother asleep now?”

  “Yes, I gave her a sleeping pill an hour ago—for my sake, not hers. I couldn’t stand her crying anymore. I needed a break.” The brown paper bags crunched as Spyder folded them to put away in the pantry. I stared out the window at the brick wall across the way.

  When he came back into the main room, Spyder carried a sandwich on a plate with a sliced apple. “I don’t want you to think about this food. I just want you to eat it,” he said. Spyder was my godfather, but that’s not what I called him—I called him my second dad. He was stern with me, and his love for me was palpable and something I’d never question. He was a man of great serenity and a man of great depth. It surprised me today that there was so much turmoil in his eyes. I braced myself because I knew that something horrible must have happened to slide him away from his Zen-like quietude.

  I wiped my mouth with a paper napkin. “Just go ahead and say it.”

  He nodded. “The man who caused the car accident was named Memphymus Hanasal. His blood-alcohol level at the time of the accident was .24. He ended up in the emergency department for alcohol poisoning and survived.”

  I mechanically chewed a bite of the sandwich. It was tasteless. I was also chewing on Spyder’s information; it was habanero hot, and the capsaicin-like information burned its way through my system. My eyes stung. I was panting. Sweat glossed my skin. I swallowed hard, trying to rid myself of the sensation. “So they’re charging him with what? Vehicular manslaughter? Murder? DUI? I’d like to be at the arraignment if it hasn’t happened yet. I want to see this guy. Look him in the eye.”

  Spyder wrapped my hands in his and looked down at the floor. He was very quiet. For the first time in my life, I saw tears on his lashes. He shook his head slowly back and forth. I couldn’t make out what that might mean. My lips pulled down as if gravity had hooked into the corners and applied so much weight that the skin on my chin pinched.

  “My dear, he has been let free.”

  I tried to pull my hands back, my muscles bunching as if in a physical fight. Spyder didn’t let go of me. With one hand, he held me fast, and with his other, he petted down my arm. He continued until I forced my body to slacken.

  “He has diplomatic credentials from the Almajidni.”

  “There’s no such place.” Surely, there was. I’d just never heard of it.

  Spyder sat still and waited for me to lift my chin and look him in the eye. “It is a small island country near the Gulf of Aden in the Arabian Sea. This man is the cousin of the king’s first wife and is married to one of the king’s daughters.”

  “The first wife as in she is deceased, and he remarried?”

  “First wife among three. She holds a great deal of power.”

  “That means that Hanasal’s immune? But they could waive that, couldn’t they? The king could.”

  “He could. He has declined.”

  “This Hanasal guy, he’s been recalled to the island? He’s leaving the US?”

  Spyder shook his head.

  “So he’s here and moving on his merry way as if nothing happened? As if he didn’t kill Dad?”

  Deep sadness, ocean-deep, turbulent, churning, Spyder’s eyes told me how profoundly this injustice moved him. Again, I was shocked to see, for the first time, something other than intelligence and placidity shining through his coal-black eyes. “I am afraid so. I am so sorry.”

  I rocked back and forth in my chair, antsy for action, though what that meant, I didn’t know. “Why isn’t the United States putting more pressure on the king? I don’t understand.”

  “It is a politicized world. That island has the potential to be of great importance to the United States, logistically. There will be no overt pressure.”

  My eyelids slid shut. When I opened them again, it was as if they were no longer flesh but metal. A steel door sliding open. Rigid and unyielding. The law was not going to stand up for Dad. But I would. This conviction absorbed into my flesh and sinew, and I felt my body hardening, finally solidifying after days of being vapor. I had exploded into a million droplets in the car crash. Translucent. Weightless. Purpose pulled me back together. My lips pursed tightly.

  “Lexicon, I can see that you have decided to take matters into your own hands.”

  I looked at him dispassionately. He could read me like a book. So what? It didn’t matter to me what he was going to say now. I had made up my mind; it only took me a nanosecond. How could I live with myself if I didn’t stand up for Dad?

  “You have all of the skills you need to effect revenge. To avenge your father’s death.” He acknowledged what I already knew. I had the power; I just needed the will. And I had that in spades. “You can track, and fight, and shoot. You have the ability to do these things, and I will not stop you. But I wish for you to give yourself a day to process. I wish for you to reflect on the phrase, ‘What is yours will not pass you by.’”

  Though Spyder had been friends with my parents since long before I was born, he had only been my mentor for the previous four years. Spyder had taken me under his wing when I said that I wanted to follow in his footsteps and go into the intelligence field. He taught me the things I would need to make me physically and mentally ready for the rigors of the job of staying alive against the odds. Quotes were among his favorite teaching tools—something from how he was raised in who knew what part of the world—the application of philosophical phrases to one’s situation. “Beacons of wisdom,” he called them.

  The stare I sent him was filled with acrimony. My taste buds were painted with bitterness.

  He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. I looked down at the deep darkness of his skin as he continued to hold my hand, the blue-blackness that was so beautiful to me. So exotic and interesting. I hoped the kiss meant he was going to leave. Listening to his voice was like listening to ocean waves or a singing bowl. They quieted my soul. Right now, I preferred my soul to be roused, to be fiery hot, ablaze with righteousness.

  “I will come back later when your mother is awake. I will be the one to tell her about Hanasal. I can see that you would prefer to be alone so that you might better reflect on the phrase I have given you.”

  He was being my mentor. He was being my godfather. What I would have preferred was that he’d put on his special operator’s hat and help me get this guy.

  A long brutal blast of car horns roused me from my memory, bringing me back to the here and now.

  I lifted a “Sorry!” hand as I pressed the gas pedal and headed on to the diner and my first shift with Destiny.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  There was a rhythm to this gig. It was going to take me a day or two to get it down. Already Jim and I had had a battle over the trash. No, I wasn’t going out back alone, not after what happened to Barb. Sorry.

  I knew I was on thin
ice there, but I thought not being a little feisty and self-preserving might have come off as inaccurate for the character I was playing.

  The room seemed to be filled with regulars.

  I recognized most of the faces and the name-embroidered uniforms from yesterday.

  Man, yesterday…so much had happened in such a short time.

  When Destiny got there, I sent her a smile. “I have to thank you. I was so hungry yesterday. You could have made a stink. I appreciate you letting me get something to eat.” Her brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun with a dancer’s net holding the wisps in place. She had a broad closed-mouth smile that hid teeth that hadn’t been straightened with braces. Not unruly, just not perfectly aligned. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and had a wariness to them. Otherwise, she was perfectly average. Forgettably attractive. These were good qualities to have if you were on the run.

  “Yeah, I’ve been there. I know what a pinched stomach feels like. Tips aren’t lavish here, but no one’s stiffed me yet. You’ll be okay now that you’re working.”

  “Yeah, not bad. They might be treating me nice because I’m the new girl. But I have enough for my gas tank now.”

  “You have a car?”

  “If you can call it that.” I gave her a one-sided smile. Gathering up a pot of decaffeinated in one hand and high test in the other, I made a circuit of all the customers. This was just colleague chatter. I wanted to make sure that I didn’t come off as too interested in her. Keep it light. Keep it natural. And keep it moving.

  We worked side by side, and things seemed smooth. She didn’t take advantage of my willingness to work, nor did Destiny act competitively, trying to get all the tips.

  As my shift was coming to an end, I carried the dishes back to the staging counter. I filled a to-go container with the portions that hadn’t been touched and set them aside. Eventually, I had three.

  Destiny bumped her hip into mine as I scraped the scraps into the bus bin. “Don’t let Jim catch you doing that. He doesn’t care much about health regulations and such. But he wants us waitresses hungry and needy. If we eat the scraps, we have more money from our tips to spend on other things. Like a way out of here.”

  “Seriously?” I whispered. “Thank you. I’ll find a way to sneak this out.”

  “If he catches you, you’ll get fired.”

  “Okay.” I glanced around. “But I could take them to the restroom with me and eat in the stall before I go. Then he’d never know.”

  She gave me a nod as Jim banged his spatula on the pickup bell. “Order’s up.”

  “I’ll cover for you. Go on and eat.”

  I carried the containers to the bathroom and flushed them down the toilet, stuffing the Styrofoam boxes deep into the bathroom waste basket.

  I was at the sink washing my hands when Destiny came in. “Nicole’s here.”

  I lifted my brow.

  “She’s another server. The one who takes over your shift. I told her you were in the bathroom, so she’s started on your customers. You're going to lose those tips, but it was just Grover, and he always leaves a dollar no matter his bill.”

  “A dollar’s a dollar.”

  “Where are you staying?” she asked.

  Since she didn’t move to use the facilities or wash her hands, I assumed this was the reason she’d come into the bathroom.

  “Me? I was traveling through, and since I just got the job, it’ll be a while before I can afford someplace to stay. Right now, I’m sleeping in my car.”

  “I’ve done that. It’s not very restful. You have to keep an eye open and a bat in your hand. Cold is cold, and hot is hot. And not being able to straighten your legs makes for a bad day carrying the trays around.”

  “Yeah.” I let my face droop. “Though I will tell you, I’m kind of excited about tonight. I found an Internet coupon for a campsite on the ocean. I’ve never seen the ocean before. For fifteen bucks, I’m going. I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to have sand between my toes. And salt water. After I take a walk, I’m going to take the longest hottest shower.”

  “Do you know how to swim?” Destiny asked.

  “Me? No. Where I grew up, that’s not something the girls were taught to do. There was a watering hole. The boys would go down there and swim in the nude. We weren’t allowed anywhere near there. But someday, I’ll learn.”

  “Still lock your doors at the campsite. Stay safe.”

  “Would you like to come?” I already knew she was on the schedule for the red-eye shift that I had worked today. She wouldn’t be able to accept my invitation.

  I was keeping Little Guy and the neighborhood kids tonight.

  She shot a glance at the door, then her watch. “I don’t have a car.” A non-sequitur. She must have had a thought running below the conversation.

  “Was there somewhere you needed to go? Can I give you a lift?”

  “No.” She waved her hand in the air. “Just…we seem to be in similar situations. Poor, I mean.”

  “Destitute for me.”

  “Yeah. And I thought that if we pooled resources, we might be able to get our feet under us faster.”

  “Not following.”

  “You have a car. Look, I have a place. I mean, it’s a piece of crap—a single bedroom. But you’re welcome to crash with me. If it works out, we can split rent, and that’ll help us save faster. Just like this job is under the table, so is my apartment. It’s above a detached garage. The owner of the house is an old guy who I think is kind of lonely. I get the rent for cheap, but I have to knock on his door every day and say hi.”

  “Why?” I leaned my hips into the sink.

  “I’m guessing partly because he wants some human interaction every day and maybe for safety. You know, if he falls or has a stroke or something, I don’t think there’s anyone who would know. He’d just eventually die wherever he falls.”

  “Man.”

  “Right? Anyway, you interested?”

  “I’m… what?”

  “Do you want to split the rent? Your share would be one-twenty plus utilities. So far, that hasn’t cost me much. Thirty dollars a month, your share for everything should be less than one-fifty.”

  “Serious?”

  “I have some rules. No visitors. Absolutely no men.”

  “Amen to that,” I said.

  “Yeah. You in?”

  I paused so I didn’t look too anxious. “Is it far from here?”

  “I walk. It’s a long walk, especially after a tough day. If I helped with gas, I wouldn’t mind having a ride, especially after a night shift. Walking home in the dark scares me.”

  “Is this a bad part of town? What happened yesterday with that waitress, Barb?” I was wearing Barb’s uniform and name pin.

  “No idea.”

  “Do you think she told the police? Made a report?” I was still worried the cops would see me on their dash or body cams and come in to get my details.

  “Oh, heck no—do you think she wants her name and address anywhere public? She’s on the run. Her ex went off the rails. Put her in the hospital for two weeks. I get why she quit.”

  “Those are the choices I made too. You?”

  Destiny looked at her shoes.

  “Thank you so much for inviting me to share your space—I don’t sleep restfully when I have to have my mind checking for my safety. There was this one time,” I lowered my voice to build intimacy, two girlfriends chatting, “I had to sleep at a train station. I put on all the clothes I owned. Partly to stay warm and partly because I was afraid of being raped. I figured there were a lot of layers to get through. And, if I looked homeless, that might be a deterrent.”

  “You were homeless.”

  “Well, yeah.” I laughed. “Anyway, I put my sunglasses on because the lights were so bright. When I woke up the next day, I discovered that someone had stolen them right off my face.”

  “What?”

  “How creepy is that that someone came up to me while I was slee
ping and slipped them off. I didn’t feel anything. I felt so vulnerable after that.”

  “But you have your car.” She lowered her voice to match mine.

  “Now, I do. That story was from the first time I ran. This is the second time.”

  Destiny reached out to grasp my arm. “Are they looking for you?”

  I was afraid that she’d pull her invite away. At the same time, I wanted her to know I was on the run. “I don’t think so. Not this time.” I shrugged. “Never can tell, so better I work somewhere under the table. Keep my life in cash and no contracts.”

  The bathroom door pushed open. “Yo, I can’t handle this place by myself. So if Jim didn’t give you diarrhea from his crap food, I could use some help out here.”

  The door swung shut.

  “Enjoy the beach.” Destiny reached for the door handle. “I’ll get a copy of the key made, and tomorrow, if you’ll meet me here after my shift, I’ll show you the place.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Striker would be home soon, and I had just finished a bowl of garlicky cold tomato soup from my favorite sandwich shop just a mile from my house. Garlic and welcome home kisses weren’t a great combination.

  I climbed the stairs to go brush my teeth and gargle.

  Sleeplessness was building up in my system. Dr. Carlon had impressed upon me how important it was for my brain health to maintain good sleep hygiene. This included a set go to bed time and a set time to rise and shine. Luckily, the kids were all pretty good about having their fun, then falling asleep fairly early. And all of them were good at sleeping in at my house.

  Though their parents would tell you a different story. Apparently, when they slept in their own beds, the kiddos liked to pop awake with the bird song.

  I picked up my toothbrush and squeezed out some paste, dipping it under the flow of water.

  This would be my last night in my house until I could find a nerve to press on Destiny. I needed to talk to Prescott about this. Destiny seemed like a nice girl. She certainly didn’t seem like she was playing loose with the law. Was this FBI interest safe for her? I had seen how FBI missions could go off the rails, and innocent people were caught up and made vulnerable. I didn’t want to be part of putting Destiny in any kind of danger.