Neil wasn’t surprised when Navy Suit and Hoodie crumpled into the back seat. When you were pinched in that spot, you had no choice but to pass out. The bears got in after them. No one ran after them. No one took a photo. No one called 911. The limo pulled smoothly away.
“Our work here is done,” Blythe said calmly. “Wait for me while I wash my hands.” She vanished through the tiled opening of the women’s room.
Neil kept his eyes glued to the washroom entry, but the terminal doors were reflected in the protective glass of a booth he could observe without turning around. The golf foursome lined up at the coffee stand. The senior citizen argued with a slight young man who looked both bored and embarrassed as he urged her toward the exit.
Blythe came out and suddenly the golfers were between him and his mate. The senior’s walker rammed a golfer’s knee from the side. Her bag of birdseed scattered everywhere on the slick tiles. The off-balance golfer brought down his pals like ninepins. They flailed and skidded on the tiny grains and stayed down.
Somehow that walker rammed into their legs every time they tried to stand up. The woman’s companion tried to help them. Although maybe help was the wrong word. Adding the used shoes to the birdseed turned a slippery trip hazard into an obstacle course. And it took fair bit of skill to administer an effective throat punch to a reclining victim.
The old woman’s loud scolding attracted four more bears wearing EMS jackets. The quartet surrounded the fallen men. There was a theme here and Neil was losing focus. His job was Blythe. He corralled her and marched her out the rear doors away from the brouhaha.
“That went well,” she chirruped. She practically levitated all the way to the helo pad. Bip bop boo, his bunny was certainly pleased with herself. She fricking needed a bunny-sitter. Oh, right. That was him.
“You think?” He hustled her across to the helicopter. He waited until Brown had them airborne and he had told the tale of the drop, before he spoke into his headset. “There were way too many people interested in you back there. SPAR has one heck of a leak.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that the guys you passed your package to were intercepted. And there were four others ready to grab you.”
“Don’t worry. They only got the decoy. Juliet has the evidence safe.”
“Juliet?”
“The woman who crashed into me. Juliet is her code name,” she explained unnecessarily.
“SPAR employed a woman on a walker for the drop?” Neil asked incredulously. Brown snorted.
“Juliet is a legend.”
“And I suppose that boy with her was a Navy SEAL?” Brown asked. He and Neil shared a glance. The rotors throbbed. “You thinking what I’m thinking, boy?”
“Depends on what you’re thinking,” Neil said. “I’m thinking that kid was a bit scrawny for a SEAL.”
Brown chuckled grimly. “It’s one thing for SPAR to have six, eight guys stationed at the terminal. But if the Sheppard twins are small-time cons or even arsonists for hire, where are these other dudes coming from? Too danged many villains in this, you ask me.”
“He’s right,” Blythe said. Neil could tell the moment it hit her that it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. His bunny wilted.
“Never you mind,” Neil patted her leg. “The Marines have your back.”
“Maybe I’d rather have Navy SEALS.”
“Fresh out, Buttercup.” He grinned at her. The men of Recon had zip squat to prove.
“Ooh rah,” said Brown.
CHAPTER 15
Jutway Island,
Molly~
“Mind if I join you?” A skinny lab tech wearing what seemed to be the Justice & Tremaine Associates uniform of dark pants and a green polo shirt slid into the chair across from hers without waiting for an answer. The company logo of a segmented white leaf embroidered with JTA bloomed over the nerd-pack tucked in his breast pocket.
Molly Needles didn’t actually want anyone to block her view of the lush gardens outside the glassed-in patio, but she remembered her manners and smiled a welcome. This was after all the staff lounge, and she was sitting at a table for six. She figured this young man for a familiar subspecies of male, earnest geo-geek. So young that this had to be his first job.
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” the man said. Hazel eyes sparkled with intelligence behind his trendy tortoiseshell glasses. “Felix Mason.” He held out a slender hand.
“Molly Needles.” She ignored the tingle she received when she took his hand. Clearly a strong geotalent. But so, in her way, was she. “Let me guess, you work in one of the labs.”
He nodded. “I do. And you’re the glass talent staying with the boss.”
“I am.” The boss was the bear SPAR had sent to keep her safe.
Colin Justice had swooped into her studio and taken charge. The next thing she knew she was on secluded Jutway Island enjoying the legendary gardens from behind bulletproof glass. Colin headed up JTA’s Jutway Campus which housed three labs engaged in top-secret paranormal research. Being the boss, Colin was too busy to spend all day following her around, so he had stashed her in the staff lounge.
Felix’s eyes narrowed. She was being rude. “Are you any relation to the Masons of Mystic Bay?” she forced herself to ask.
“I am. But the connection is distant. My family lives in California. How do you know the Masons?”
“I’m from Mystic Bay,” she revealed and bit her lip. Colin had told her to be discreet. But she wasn’t much good at this cloak-and-dagger business.
“Ah, one of those Needles.”
“Hmm.” Her family wasn’t the most famous of the many geotalent clans that made Mystic Bay their home, but she did have a number of distinguished relatives.
“This is my real connection with Mystic Bay.” He pulled a large medallion from the collar of his shirt and held it flat on his hand.
It was a nice hand, well-shaped, and not too large. What was the matter with her? This wasn’t the moment to be looking at a stranger’s hands. She focused on his pendant. Eight pea-sized spheres of green peridot surrounded a clear gray fox stone. The connection between the green stones and the gray base was secured by wires of polished silver metal.
“Snap.” She drew out her own focusing pendant which was a single faceted crystal of fox stone. It was a bit larger than his, but then she and the Fields, who held the monopoly on the expensive stones, were cousins. “May I?”
He pulled the chain over his head and placed the medallion in her hand. Her sensitivity to rocks wasn’t the greatest. She was after all a glass talent. But even she could feel the power in these stones. Way more than they would have individually. His talent was very powerful indeed.
“It’s an engine,” she breathed, impressed.
“Yeah. I made it myself.”
She chuckled. “I know, senior year project at the Institute.” She meant the renowned Institute for Para-Geology. Geo-geek equaled alumnus.
His shoulders squared. “Actually, I made it when I was sixteen. Or at least the prototype. I couldn’t afford a fox stone until I got this gig with JTA. But it got me early acceptance at the Institute.”
“Wow.”
It was his turn to blush. He hid his face in his coffee mug. When he took it down, he changed the subject. “So why does a glass talent carry a giant piece of fox stone?”
“You mean why does a low-rent talent like a glass tuner need a lot of firepower?” If geotalents ranked low on the paranormal social scale, glass talents were on the very last rung. It got old fast.
He had the grace to look abashed, and he made a good recovery. “I meant, instead of a glass crystal?”
She couldn’t help it, she snickered. “Didn’t they cover that in Psi 101 back at the Institute? Glass isn’t very good for holding a focus. Rocks are more stable and hold their tuning longer.”
“Yeah. I know that’s what we were taught but no one ever gave us a decent hypothesis that would explain why.”
&
nbsp; She rolled her eyes. “I was taught that it’s the regularity of the structure of glass. All it takes is a little slippage of talent to trigger a chain reaction and bam, your glass crystal is fried.”
His eyes lit up. “I think you’re onto something. That might explain why its paranormal effects are so unpredictable.” He pulled out a tablet and made notes. It was kind of adorable. He looked up and smiled. “And just what do you do with your glass talent, Molly Needles?”
She sighed in relief. That wasn’t a secret. “I’m a photographer.”
His eyes brightened. His head tipped to one side and a hank of blond hair slid over his forehead. He grinned boyishly after a few moments. “Okay, I give up. How does being a glass talent help you take pictures?”
“I tune my lenses to absorb psi, it adds clarity to the focus.”
“That’s it?”
“A party trick. But I think my pictures are better for it.”
“I thought Colin said you couldn’t tune glass,” he objected.
She raised her brows. “He told you that?”
“We’ve been working all morning on the crystal you expropriated.”
“Oh. What I told Colin was that I told the psi-con artist I couldn’t tune the specimen he gave me. Wouldn’t, would have been more accurate.”
Only curiosity showed on his face. “Why not?”
“I wouldn’t ever tune dirty-glass.”
“I’m not familiar with the term.”
“It’s slang for glass crystals infused with bad psi. Tuning them is irresponsible at best, more likely just plain evil.”
“And what makes that crystal dirty?” he asked curiously.
Just what did they teach geotalents at the Institute? “They’re dirty because they’ve been designed to alter auras. And not in a good way. I hope you guys have been using tongs and keeping them in secure Field lockboxes.” In Mystic Bay, Emerald Field’s containment devices were standard containment for hot rocks. And that probably went double for dirty-glass.
“They’re dead,” he insisted. “No energy left.” There was more than a little of the patronage of a scientist for a layperson in his voice.
“No. They’re still potent. Still dirty-glass. What’s worn off is the tuning to Ferris’ aura. That’s the name of the flat who gave me that crystal. There’s still plenty of potential to disrupt the aura of anyone getting too close to it. And being glass, the dirty-psi could as easily amplify over time as degrade.”
“Dang.” He replaced the pendant around his neck and stood up. “I think we should continue this conversation in the boss’ office.”
CHAPTER 16
Blythe~
She had half a lasagna in the freezer. Half a very small lasagna. She glanced over at Neil who was driving the rental SUV with the competence with which he did everything. He looked solid and dependable in the driver’s seat. Focused. Steady. And very large. No way that a rabbit-sized serving of lasagna was enough food. Not without bread or salad or both. Blythe hoped he liked grocery shopping, because it was that or delivery.
“It’s the next left,” she said. But she had told him where they were headed at SeaTac and he already had the indicator light on. “Park anywhere in visitor parking.”
A little blue hatchback the same make and model as Mom’s made the turn ahead of them, slowing to enter the parking lot. And then the hatchback’s luck ran out. Just as it began its left turn, a delivery van coming the other way smacked into its front quarter. Metal shrieked. A headlight shattered. The gray sedan that had been waiting in the driveway to make its right turn onto the street rammed the hatchback’s rear bumper.
Neil continued smoothly on their way, skirting the accident. By the time he had pulled in at the curb, she had her video camera rolling and was recording out her side window. Looked like there was going to be an altercation. Two men jumped out of their vehicles and advanced on the hatchback as if the woman inside was at fault.
They were both dressed in identical dark gray pants and shirts with matching ball caps. Even in the viewfinder, their faces looked weirdly red. She sharpened her focus. What were the odds that a real accident had been caused by guys in Spider-Man masks?
“You stay put,” Neil ordered. “Lock the door.” And then he was gone.
She juggled the camera and obeyed him. He had left the keys in the ignition and the engine running. Was he expecting her to drive off and leave him? As if.
The driver of the hatchback had her cell phone in her hand. The woman’s lips moved. Guns appeared in the hoods’ hands. They gestured for the driver to get out of her car. Reluctantly, she obeyed, revealing herself as a dark-haired woman in purple and white scrubs.
Blythe recognized her as a frequent visitor to one of the residents on a floor above hers. Probably a nurse. One of the masked assailants grabbed the nurse’s phone and threw it to the ground. The other snatched her keys from her hand.
Blythe couldn’t stay in the rental in safety, while thugs attacked someone else in her place. Still recording, she fished out her cell phone.
“What’s your emergency?” demanded the 911 operator.
“I want to report a three-vehicle collision, and an attempted carjacking,” Blythe said. She gave the details.
“Where are you?”
“Parked down the street.”
“Get down on the floor of your vehicle and stay there.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She didn’t mention that Neil was already gliding up the street. Or that she was still recording.
She ended the call before she could be asked to stay on the line, turned off the SUV and got out, heart in throat, carefully staying low behind the row of parked cars. She needed to get those thugs and their matching disguises on record.
The Spider-Men were too busy wrestling with their victim to notice Blythe. An SUV rolled to the scene and pulled in tight behind the sedan. Its rear door opened. Great, she was witnessing an abduction.
Suddenly Neil was there slamming the SUV’s door shut. And yelling at the woman to drop. Both carjackers staggered as the woman hit the sidewalk, pulling them off balance.
Either the bad guys had silencers or their pistols jammed. At any rate Neil was still standing. The two Spider-Men ran into her building. The SUV’s motor cut out as sirens wailed and two police cruisers screamed onto the street.
The SUV driver, also wearing a Spider-Man mask, spotted Blythe behind the parked cars, opened his door and raised his gun. She dropped behind a pickup, shaking like a leaf. Jeez. Twice in as many days. She wasn’t cut out for being a target.
Neil abandoned the runners and went after the driver. He hauled the driver out of the SUV, threw him to the ground, and rammed a knee into his back to keep him there while he restrained him.
Two cops hauled Neil to his feet and led him away, while two others cuffed the driver. In the confusion, the runners had no difficulty gaining admittance to Blythe’s building.
She strained to see through three layers of glass. But even with the telephoto lens in play, her camera couldn’t track the men. Had they run out the back doors, or used the elevators? Still shaking, she turned off her camera, returned to the rental, and waited.
It seemed to take forever for the cops to sort things out. At least they hadn’t cuffed Neil. Maybe because three guys in Spider-Man masks were inherently suspicious. Eventually a pair of uniforms came over and waved her out of the SUV.
Blythe tried not to confuse them with too much information. Like the fire. Or the resemblance of the victim’s hatchback to the one she drove in Mystic Bay. She did offer to email her video to them.
“It’s not that clear,” she apologized. “But it’s better than nothing.”
The cops accepted, but they weren’t pleased. “You could have gotten yourself shot to make a video. We better not find this on Facebook.” As if she had wanted something to post on social media.
“Wait here,” they told her curtly. What was it with her and guys? Everyone wanted to give her orders. But s
he didn’t feel safe yet, so she got back into the rental and locked the doors.
CHAPTER 17
Neil~
It was dark before the cops let him go. And even later when they were finally allowed into Blythe’s building. They had the elevator to themselves which was fortunate because she was steamed and mouthing off.
“I can’t believe the cops went with the scenario in which those thugs were druggies intending to rob that nurse’s client,” she raged.
“Apparently the tenant in penthouse 4 is seriously loaded. The perps took Ms. Villas’ keys, which are the keys to that suite.” Neil shrugged. “Be grateful that it gave the police a motive that didn’t involve us. And it was better than their first thought which was that Miranda Villas had a falling out with her drug dealers.”
Blythe made a face. “Just because she’s Latino.”
“I don’t think that Detective Morales automatically went ‘drug deal gone wrong’ because he’s stereotyping. Drugs are behind a lot of crime. And those three stolen cars had to be explained.”
“True.” But her jaw set. The bunny wasn’t satisfied.
“I hope you have a good home security system,” he said as the elevator stopped.
“Pretty good.” She led the way down a long hall. “I’m right at the end by the stairs.”
“CCTV?”
“Yup. Motion sensitive. Multiple cameras. And I reviewed all the footage while I was waiting for the cops to arrest you. Molly’s too. She lives two floors below me. Nada. No one’s been in or out of my unit since I went to Mystic Bay. And no one’s been in Molly’s since she left yesterday.”
“Good to know.” One less thing to deal with.
Blythe’s apartment was a feast of springtime color. Soft greens and daffodil yellow with hints of charcoal. Pretty, subtle, and fresh. Like her ring. Of course all her furniture was petite. She tossed her bag on a pale green armchair that didn’t look as if it would hold his weight.
“I want a shower and to get out of these clothes.” She pulled on her T-shirt. “I’ve been wearing them since yesterday. After that, if we want dinner and breakfast, we have to go to the grocery store.”
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