Thriller, page 3
“Please. Tell me what business she told me about.” The girl shook her head, trying to dislodge the strangling arm.
“Hold still, little girl. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
“What did she tell you?” Now a firm, solid question.
“Don’t play coy with me. She told you about Terry. That he was a diamond dealer.”
“Terry?”
“Terry. He asked her if she wanted to invest one-hundred thousand dollars. And she agreed. Please, don’t insult me by telling me that she didn’t tell you that.”
The teenager said nothing.
“We’ve offered Ruby the chance of a lifetime, a chance to make a fortune and you go and call the cops?”
“I was worried about her. What do you want me to do?”
“What I want you to do”—the woman held on to her“is to tell her it’s in her best interest to give us the money. She’s all of a sudden become somewhat reluctant to write the check.”
“I can’t make her give you the money.”
“Oh, but she likes you. She says you share everything and I’m pretty sure if she thought something might happen to you . . .”
And as they reached the foot of the stairs, Emilynn looked up and there, on a worn, gray cloth couch was Ruby. She had on a loose house dress that looked soiled, her hair matted in tangles, and her legs and wrists wrapped tightly with rope. Even in the dim light, the girl could see Ruby’s red eyes, probably from crying. An angry welt across her cheek spoke to physical abuse. Across the room was a steel cage. Lady cowered in the corner. She softly whined when she saw Emilynn.
“I’m sorry, Little One. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”
“You used her. Said she’d report you missing. You threatened us with this little twit.”
A door slammed upstairs, and the big man, Terry, pounded down the steps.
“I told you to stay up there and keep an eye out.”
“You’ve got the papers?”
“Yes, Terry.”
“Look, Ruby.” He pointed his finger at her. “The sooner you sign these, the sooner you and your mutt can go back to your normal life.”
“You won’t hurt Emilynn.”
“Sign the papers, bitch. As soon as it all clears, everybody is free.”
The woman released her headlock on the teenager, and Emilynn messaged her neck and walked to the metal cage, leaning down and placing her hand against the bars. Lady scooted across the floor, then licked her fingers.
“An old lady, a dog, and a teenager.” The young girl turned and stared daggers at them. “I hope you’re proud of yourselves.”
“It doesn’t have to get rough. After all, it’s only money. Right Ruby?” She turned to the woman on the couch. “The lady has a healthy bank account. We just want a share.”
There was a loud pounding upstairs and Terry walked to the steps.
“I told you. You should have stayed up there.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The pounding continued.
The fourteen-year-old reached the slip-latch on the cage door and eased it open.
The pounding was followed by loud voices.
With a low growl, Lady leaped from the open cage, barking loudly and bounding past Terry and the lady. She tore up the stairs and the woofing continued.
“You little bitch.” The old lady stepped back to Emilynn and raised her hand. The girl kicked out, landing a foot to the knee and the short woman went down, howling and grabbing her leg.
She heard the voices, even louder, shouting her name. Two of them.
“Emilynn. Emilynn.”
As the short woman struggled to stand, Emilynn brushed by her, approached Terry, and with a hefty shove, pushed her right hand up under his nose, pressing strongly and breaking the cartilage. Blood spurted as she slipped by him and sprinted up the stairs.
The two men stood there, backed off by the baying hound. St. Lifer saw her and raised his right hand.
“Call off the dog.”
And she did.
“Lady.”
The dog stopped and stepped beside the teen.
“They’ve got Ruby tied up downstairs,” she said.
“We’re on it,” said Morisey as he drew his gun and cautiously walked down the stairs.
“There’s an old lady with a bad knee, and an overweight guy with a broken nose. If that helps,” she shouted down the stairwell. “And Ruby, on the couch. She’s been through a lot.”
“Your friend Kate called the station. Said she’d watched you come into this house and never saw you leave,” St. Lifer said.
“Thank goodness for friends,” Emilynn said. “Thank goodness for friends.”
“Wanted in three states for fraud, kidnapping, embezzlement, and attempted murder.” Morisey stared at his computer screen. “Big score, my friend.”
St. Lifer studied the papers in front of him.
“Romance scams. It’s amazing what people will do for the promise of some companionship.”
“Yeah, and it’s amazing what a tenacious teenager can uncover.”
Emilynn Lee, from her window could see
The house that was next to her own.
She looked out the window, and there was Ruby and Lady, looking up at that very window. She put down her tablet and walked down the stairs calling, “Jet. Time for a walk.”
BABY BE MINE
DAHLIA ROSE
“Shadow, are you on comms?”
The voice came through her left earpiece making her sigh.
“I’m not supposed to be, in case there’s someone scanning for radio waves and you would lead them right to me,” she said not so sweetly and through gritted teeth.
The laugh came next. “You know my tech is on point.”
“Ego much?” Shadow drawled.
“Reality, babe, just all reality,” he boasted. “Any sign of the target?”
“If there was, I would be home with a glass of wine in my hand, soaking in a tub of hot water, soap, and bubbles, and my phones would be on silent,” she muttered.
“Sounds sexy, I have a mental image . . .”
“Don’t make me shoot you, Grimes. I can turn this gun toward the van just as easy.”
“And you never miss a mark,” he said in amusement.
He was damn right, she never missed a shot and she left any of her ops like a breeze through the trees. That’s why they called her Shadow, out in the open, in the city, anywhere she worked, there was no sign of her after the job was done. Right now she was on top of some seven-story nondescript building that served as a free community clinic and a few other businesses. Not a place that anyone had an interest in the roof, well unless maintenance needed to work up there. Even so Shadow knew it would be easy to hide and keep out of their way.
Hell, she would tinker with the AC or heating units so no one had to come up to the roof so she could get the job done and go home. She hated the city, Fort Jackson, and her house seemed much too far away since she left six weeks ago. Being based out of Fort Hamilton in Staten Island until this op was over was not fun. Should’ve been over three weeks ago, she thought in irritation, but bad guys never played by anyone’s timetable but their own. Luckily the air was cooler this time of year, fall in New York came in right after Labor Day. Her ghillie suit did two things, keep her warm and hid her from any view overhead.
Shadow had a camouflage suit for every occasion, her version of a little black dress. She made them herself. She had no trust in the ones provided by her handlers and sometimes she was in that perch for seventy-two hours at a time. So far Grimes hadn’t picked up any chatter about a suspicious character on the roof. Her break was coming up, so Shadow could catch a few hours to sleep. Grimes would stay on watch, and she would be at the empty set of offices right beneath her. They paid four months rent on the unit so she could use it as needed, and Shadow had all her gear stored down below. If she needed to book it, she could be gone in less than five minutes.
“No signs of drones or anything?” Shadow asked Grimes, who monitored everything from a van farther down the block.
Grimes blew out a breath of frustration. “None, I’m starting to wonder about Overwatch’s intel.”
“Seemed solid enough,” Shadow said. “Her little boo-thing is still hiding out on this block, and she knows where he is. Those Baby, Be Mine gifts come in frequent enough.”
“I wonder why he doesn’t hightail it to somewhere else,” Grimes murmured.
Shadow knew why: he was tired of running and this would be his end game. Instead of that explanation, her answer was, “Who knows.”
“I mean who gets involved with a woman like the Dame?” Grimes muttered around whatever he was shoving in his mouth.
“I doubt he knew who she was until shit got real,” Shadow replied. “She has a way with men, and they always end up dead.”
Maybe he hoped to get her nabbed by the cops or FBI so he could join WITSEC and turn states’ evidence. Shadow knew even from prison her target would find a way to have him killed, because if she couldn’t have him no one would. Unfortunately, Shadow used the Dame’s ex-boyfriend as bait. He didn’t even know it, and it was only because she knew the Dame’s pattern when it came to men. I’ve studied this bitch long enough to know when she takes a pee.
La dama de las serpientes, the Dame of Serpents would keep coming for this guy. For Shadow to end this, the end of the snake had to be removed, the Dame had to die. She never relished her kills, and in her time as one of the best snipers the army ever trained, Shadow knew her record was pristine. But the Dame, Carina Parez—for all she’d done, Shadow would enjoy putting a bullet through her head.
“Hey, you there?” Grimes’s voice broke through her internal dialogue. “Our guy just left.”
“He won’t be back tonight. I can take a break, eat and sleep, while you keep watch,” Shadow replied.
“Yeah I got it covered. When Overwatch checks in I‘ll give them an update,” Grimes answered.
“I got some hot food up there, so you don’t have to survive off MRE’s.”
“I wasn’t planning on that crap, not in New York,” Shadow said amused. “But thanks for the food, saves me from having to hit the Chinese place down the block.”
“You’re welcome,” Grimes said.
“Shadow going dark, if there’s an emergency you know what to do,” she said and removed the earpiece from her ear.
With the all clear, Shadow stood and stretched to ease the tense muscles in her back and arms. Staying in one position for hours at a time made her stiff, and for a moment Shadow wondered if this job stunted her from growing or compressing the disks in her back. At five three, she was shorter than her counterparts by far; she smiled knowing she made a smaller target as well. She took the base off her baby, the Barrett M107A1, a .50-caliber sniper rifle, which was an extension of herself. Shadow treated it with extra care, because it could be the one thing between life and death. After moving through the door that led from the roof to a flight of stairs, she opened the emergency exit that would lead to the second floor.
The doors to the offices were locked to any outsiders, and with a sigh, the ghillie suit was removed and dropped near her supplies. This floor was meant to be some kind of medical rehabilitation center so there was an actual working whirlpool in one of the inner rooms. That was her saving grace for the past few months and in less than ten minutes she was soaking her sore muscles and almost asleep in the large metal tub while the jets bubbled the water around her. Back in the area she used to rest, she changed into civilian clothes, and opened the hot bag to pull out two Styrofoam food containers.
“Not fish and his rabbit food,” Shadow muttered looking down at steamed salmon with grilled vegetables and a salad. “How am I supposed to survive on this crap?”
A trip outside would be warranted, but not for Chinese food. After seeing what Grimes considered a meal, she wanted a steak done medium rare, a fully loaded potato with all the fixings, mushrooms, and onions. Her stomach growled and Shadow shoved her feet into her shoes grumbling about Grimes and his eating habits. The elevator took her down to street level, when she stepped out into the cool night, Shadow was civilian again, a young woman on the streets of New York. The Chinese restaurant was on the right and she ambled past with the pub on the corner in her sight. Ordering from the corner of the bar, she sat on the stool waiting for them to bring out her to-go meal and enjoyed the music, and sipped a cold beer while she waited.
“Order for Christian Matthews.”
“Let me go look,” the girl handling the to-go orders said.
The voice made her turn her face away and her heart started to race. Fuck! He was supposed to be gone for the night, and he was like clockwork. Christian Matthews usually worked at the soup kitchen with the underprivileged at night and stayed inside during the day.
“Hey.”
She pretended not to hear him over the music, and he spoke again.
“Excuse me, but do I know you from somewhere?” he said and gave a small grin. “I know it sounds like a pickup line, but honestly you look familiar.”
Shadow turned with a sigh. “I don’t think so, no.”
He stared at her silently for more than a few moments and she shifted uncomfortably.
“What?” she finally asked.
“You are stunning,” he finally said, cleared his throat, and then gave a small laugh. “Sorry, that wasn’t a pickup line either, just the truth.”
She smiled. “Thanks, I suppose.”
He chuckled. “I’m never this forward, but you definitely stand out in a crowd.”
“And here I was trying to blend in,” she said it like a joke, but it was the truth. Maybe she should have eaten Grimes’s nasty food and went to sleep. The smell of the pub food coming out for the other guests squashed that thought.
“Christian Matthews,” he held out his hand.
She hesitated before taking it and his large warm hand wrapped around her fingers. “S-Shana Brathwaite.”
“Very European surname, are you from across the pond,” he teased.
Shana shook her head. “Nope, born in the U-S-of-A, but it’s a family name from way back, in the Caribbean.”
“I was right about the European connection,” he smiled, the waitress came back with his order and he paid before taking the bag. “Well, back to the salt mines for me, Miss Shana Brathwaite. I hope to see you around.”
“Have a great night,” she said knowing he wouldn’t if the Dame had anything to do with it. She’d have to discuss Grimes’s food choices with him so this never happened again.
He gave a small wave from the door, and she let out a slow breath as her food came out of the kitchen and she paid. Shana, a.k.a. Shadow, looked around, making sure there was no sight of him on the street before she walked briskly back to the building and slipped in through the same door in the alley. While Shana ate she thought about Christian Matthews. He had classic good looks, an angular jawline. His eyes were hazel, and his dark hair was cut neatly. Christian was at least a full head, or more, taller than her, if she had stood she wouldn’t’ve reached his shoulder.
In any case, that could not, would not, happen again; she couldn’t be associated with the man that would bring the Dame to her. If the worst happened, she wanted no guilt about who he was or what he was. In this job you learned not to make connections. La dama de las serpientes taught her that in the most brutal of ways. Shana’s hunger was sated and ready to crash for a few hours in her sleeping bag. Before sunrise she would be back on that roof in her position, and no one would tell her she was stunning. I’m not meant to be, Shana thought as she washed up in the bathroom that night and brushed her teeth. She studied herself in the mirror wondering what Christian saw in her that made her stand out to him. The only thing that would be known of her would be the precise placement of the bullet from her rifle, and even then, she wouldn’t be seen.
“Grimes, head on a swivel, I’ve got movement,” Shadow said into her comms piece. “One man walking a large box under his arm, Mercedes driving slow next to him.”
“Got it,” Grimes answered. “Could they be any more conspicuous as being a getaway car?”
Shadow chuckled. “No one said henchmen had to be smart.”
“What’s in the box?” Grimes wondered.
“Nothing good,” she murmured. “I don’t think it’s a bomb.”
Grime cut in. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m not; I don’t have X-ray vision,” Shadow snapped. “It’s not their style though. The Dame likes drama, poison being her favorite. The box has her calling card—Baby, be mine.”
“Poison flowers?” Grimes mused. “Diabolical.”
The man placed the box on the top step carefully before pressing the button for Christian’s apartment and then ran down the steps and into the car. The car drove off at a high speed and from the gingerly way he placed the box, Shadow wondered if it was truly a bomb.
“Grimes, go anonymous and call 911 and tell them it’s a possible bomb,” Shadow said. “God knows I don’t need this to be something that can hurt people walking by, or in the building. Get me Matthew’s cell number.”
“Is that wise?” Grimes asked dubiously. “I mean would she try to kill him now?”
“Yes, that’s why we’re here, remember? He’s refused all her advances,” Shadow replied. “She’s losing patience and amping up her game.”
“Still, Overwatch said no contact . . .”
“Grimes, get me the fucking number. I’ll take the hit if the boss has any issues,” she snapped.
“Jeez, okay. I sent it to your burner,” Grimes muttered.
If this was Carina’s last move to gain checkmate, Shadow would have to start the hunt all over again. The Dame would leave New York to head back to her compound. God knows Shadow didn’t want her to go back to Costa Rica, but she damn well would take that woman out one way or another. Her vendetta against the woman was beyond what Overwatch wanted. Her phone was hidden under the ledge by the rifle; she grabbed it and pressed the number quickly, and he answered on the second ring.
“Hold still, little girl. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
“What did she tell you?” Now a firm, solid question.
“Don’t play coy with me. She told you about Terry. That he was a diamond dealer.”
“Terry?”
“Terry. He asked her if she wanted to invest one-hundred thousand dollars. And she agreed. Please, don’t insult me by telling me that she didn’t tell you that.”
The teenager said nothing.
“We’ve offered Ruby the chance of a lifetime, a chance to make a fortune and you go and call the cops?”
“I was worried about her. What do you want me to do?”
“What I want you to do”—the woman held on to her“is to tell her it’s in her best interest to give us the money. She’s all of a sudden become somewhat reluctant to write the check.”
“I can’t make her give you the money.”
“Oh, but she likes you. She says you share everything and I’m pretty sure if she thought something might happen to you . . .”
And as they reached the foot of the stairs, Emilynn looked up and there, on a worn, gray cloth couch was Ruby. She had on a loose house dress that looked soiled, her hair matted in tangles, and her legs and wrists wrapped tightly with rope. Even in the dim light, the girl could see Ruby’s red eyes, probably from crying. An angry welt across her cheek spoke to physical abuse. Across the room was a steel cage. Lady cowered in the corner. She softly whined when she saw Emilynn.
“I’m sorry, Little One. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”
“You used her. Said she’d report you missing. You threatened us with this little twit.”
A door slammed upstairs, and the big man, Terry, pounded down the steps.
“I told you to stay up there and keep an eye out.”
“You’ve got the papers?”
“Yes, Terry.”
“Look, Ruby.” He pointed his finger at her. “The sooner you sign these, the sooner you and your mutt can go back to your normal life.”
“You won’t hurt Emilynn.”
“Sign the papers, bitch. As soon as it all clears, everybody is free.”
The woman released her headlock on the teenager, and Emilynn messaged her neck and walked to the metal cage, leaning down and placing her hand against the bars. Lady scooted across the floor, then licked her fingers.
“An old lady, a dog, and a teenager.” The young girl turned and stared daggers at them. “I hope you’re proud of yourselves.”
“It doesn’t have to get rough. After all, it’s only money. Right Ruby?” She turned to the woman on the couch. “The lady has a healthy bank account. We just want a share.”
There was a loud pounding upstairs and Terry walked to the steps.
“I told you. You should have stayed up there.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The pounding continued.
The fourteen-year-old reached the slip-latch on the cage door and eased it open.
The pounding was followed by loud voices.
With a low growl, Lady leaped from the open cage, barking loudly and bounding past Terry and the lady. She tore up the stairs and the woofing continued.
“You little bitch.” The old lady stepped back to Emilynn and raised her hand. The girl kicked out, landing a foot to the knee and the short woman went down, howling and grabbing her leg.
She heard the voices, even louder, shouting her name. Two of them.
“Emilynn. Emilynn.”
As the short woman struggled to stand, Emilynn brushed by her, approached Terry, and with a hefty shove, pushed her right hand up under his nose, pressing strongly and breaking the cartilage. Blood spurted as she slipped by him and sprinted up the stairs.
The two men stood there, backed off by the baying hound. St. Lifer saw her and raised his right hand.
“Call off the dog.”
And she did.
“Lady.”
The dog stopped and stepped beside the teen.
“They’ve got Ruby tied up downstairs,” she said.
“We’re on it,” said Morisey as he drew his gun and cautiously walked down the stairs.
“There’s an old lady with a bad knee, and an overweight guy with a broken nose. If that helps,” she shouted down the stairwell. “And Ruby, on the couch. She’s been through a lot.”
“Your friend Kate called the station. Said she’d watched you come into this house and never saw you leave,” St. Lifer said.
“Thank goodness for friends,” Emilynn said. “Thank goodness for friends.”
“Wanted in three states for fraud, kidnapping, embezzlement, and attempted murder.” Morisey stared at his computer screen. “Big score, my friend.”
St. Lifer studied the papers in front of him.
“Romance scams. It’s amazing what people will do for the promise of some companionship.”
“Yeah, and it’s amazing what a tenacious teenager can uncover.”
Emilynn Lee, from her window could see
The house that was next to her own.
She looked out the window, and there was Ruby and Lady, looking up at that very window. She put down her tablet and walked down the stairs calling, “Jet. Time for a walk.”
BABY BE MINE
DAHLIA ROSE
“Shadow, are you on comms?”
The voice came through her left earpiece making her sigh.
“I’m not supposed to be, in case there’s someone scanning for radio waves and you would lead them right to me,” she said not so sweetly and through gritted teeth.
The laugh came next. “You know my tech is on point.”
“Ego much?” Shadow drawled.
“Reality, babe, just all reality,” he boasted. “Any sign of the target?”
“If there was, I would be home with a glass of wine in my hand, soaking in a tub of hot water, soap, and bubbles, and my phones would be on silent,” she muttered.
“Sounds sexy, I have a mental image . . .”
“Don’t make me shoot you, Grimes. I can turn this gun toward the van just as easy.”
“And you never miss a mark,” he said in amusement.
He was damn right, she never missed a shot and she left any of her ops like a breeze through the trees. That’s why they called her Shadow, out in the open, in the city, anywhere she worked, there was no sign of her after the job was done. Right now she was on top of some seven-story nondescript building that served as a free community clinic and a few other businesses. Not a place that anyone had an interest in the roof, well unless maintenance needed to work up there. Even so Shadow knew it would be easy to hide and keep out of their way.
Hell, she would tinker with the AC or heating units so no one had to come up to the roof so she could get the job done and go home. She hated the city, Fort Jackson, and her house seemed much too far away since she left six weeks ago. Being based out of Fort Hamilton in Staten Island until this op was over was not fun. Should’ve been over three weeks ago, she thought in irritation, but bad guys never played by anyone’s timetable but their own. Luckily the air was cooler this time of year, fall in New York came in right after Labor Day. Her ghillie suit did two things, keep her warm and hid her from any view overhead.
Shadow had a camouflage suit for every occasion, her version of a little black dress. She made them herself. She had no trust in the ones provided by her handlers and sometimes she was in that perch for seventy-two hours at a time. So far Grimes hadn’t picked up any chatter about a suspicious character on the roof. Her break was coming up, so Shadow could catch a few hours to sleep. Grimes would stay on watch, and she would be at the empty set of offices right beneath her. They paid four months rent on the unit so she could use it as needed, and Shadow had all her gear stored down below. If she needed to book it, she could be gone in less than five minutes.
“No signs of drones or anything?” Shadow asked Grimes, who monitored everything from a van farther down the block.
Grimes blew out a breath of frustration. “None, I’m starting to wonder about Overwatch’s intel.”
“Seemed solid enough,” Shadow said. “Her little boo-thing is still hiding out on this block, and she knows where he is. Those Baby, Be Mine gifts come in frequent enough.”
“I wonder why he doesn’t hightail it to somewhere else,” Grimes murmured.
Shadow knew why: he was tired of running and this would be his end game. Instead of that explanation, her answer was, “Who knows.”
“I mean who gets involved with a woman like the Dame?” Grimes muttered around whatever he was shoving in his mouth.
“I doubt he knew who she was until shit got real,” Shadow replied. “She has a way with men, and they always end up dead.”
Maybe he hoped to get her nabbed by the cops or FBI so he could join WITSEC and turn states’ evidence. Shadow knew even from prison her target would find a way to have him killed, because if she couldn’t have him no one would. Unfortunately, Shadow used the Dame’s ex-boyfriend as bait. He didn’t even know it, and it was only because she knew the Dame’s pattern when it came to men. I’ve studied this bitch long enough to know when she takes a pee.
La dama de las serpientes, the Dame of Serpents would keep coming for this guy. For Shadow to end this, the end of the snake had to be removed, the Dame had to die. She never relished her kills, and in her time as one of the best snipers the army ever trained, Shadow knew her record was pristine. But the Dame, Carina Parez—for all she’d done, Shadow would enjoy putting a bullet through her head.
“Hey, you there?” Grimes’s voice broke through her internal dialogue. “Our guy just left.”
“He won’t be back tonight. I can take a break, eat and sleep, while you keep watch,” Shadow replied.
“Yeah I got it covered. When Overwatch checks in I‘ll give them an update,” Grimes answered.
“I got some hot food up there, so you don’t have to survive off MRE’s.”
“I wasn’t planning on that crap, not in New York,” Shadow said amused. “But thanks for the food, saves me from having to hit the Chinese place down the block.”
“You’re welcome,” Grimes said.
“Shadow going dark, if there’s an emergency you know what to do,” she said and removed the earpiece from her ear.
With the all clear, Shadow stood and stretched to ease the tense muscles in her back and arms. Staying in one position for hours at a time made her stiff, and for a moment Shadow wondered if this job stunted her from growing or compressing the disks in her back. At five three, she was shorter than her counterparts by far; she smiled knowing she made a smaller target as well. She took the base off her baby, the Barrett M107A1, a .50-caliber sniper rifle, which was an extension of herself. Shadow treated it with extra care, because it could be the one thing between life and death. After moving through the door that led from the roof to a flight of stairs, she opened the emergency exit that would lead to the second floor.
The doors to the offices were locked to any outsiders, and with a sigh, the ghillie suit was removed and dropped near her supplies. This floor was meant to be some kind of medical rehabilitation center so there was an actual working whirlpool in one of the inner rooms. That was her saving grace for the past few months and in less than ten minutes she was soaking her sore muscles and almost asleep in the large metal tub while the jets bubbled the water around her. Back in the area she used to rest, she changed into civilian clothes, and opened the hot bag to pull out two Styrofoam food containers.
“Not fish and his rabbit food,” Shadow muttered looking down at steamed salmon with grilled vegetables and a salad. “How am I supposed to survive on this crap?”
A trip outside would be warranted, but not for Chinese food. After seeing what Grimes considered a meal, she wanted a steak done medium rare, a fully loaded potato with all the fixings, mushrooms, and onions. Her stomach growled and Shadow shoved her feet into her shoes grumbling about Grimes and his eating habits. The elevator took her down to street level, when she stepped out into the cool night, Shadow was civilian again, a young woman on the streets of New York. The Chinese restaurant was on the right and she ambled past with the pub on the corner in her sight. Ordering from the corner of the bar, she sat on the stool waiting for them to bring out her to-go meal and enjoyed the music, and sipped a cold beer while she waited.
“Order for Christian Matthews.”
“Let me go look,” the girl handling the to-go orders said.
The voice made her turn her face away and her heart started to race. Fuck! He was supposed to be gone for the night, and he was like clockwork. Christian Matthews usually worked at the soup kitchen with the underprivileged at night and stayed inside during the day.
“Hey.”
She pretended not to hear him over the music, and he spoke again.
“Excuse me, but do I know you from somewhere?” he said and gave a small grin. “I know it sounds like a pickup line, but honestly you look familiar.”
Shadow turned with a sigh. “I don’t think so, no.”
He stared at her silently for more than a few moments and she shifted uncomfortably.
“What?” she finally asked.
“You are stunning,” he finally said, cleared his throat, and then gave a small laugh. “Sorry, that wasn’t a pickup line either, just the truth.”
She smiled. “Thanks, I suppose.”
He chuckled. “I’m never this forward, but you definitely stand out in a crowd.”
“And here I was trying to blend in,” she said it like a joke, but it was the truth. Maybe she should have eaten Grimes’s nasty food and went to sleep. The smell of the pub food coming out for the other guests squashed that thought.
“Christian Matthews,” he held out his hand.
She hesitated before taking it and his large warm hand wrapped around her fingers. “S-Shana Brathwaite.”
“Very European surname, are you from across the pond,” he teased.
Shana shook her head. “Nope, born in the U-S-of-A, but it’s a family name from way back, in the Caribbean.”
“I was right about the European connection,” he smiled, the waitress came back with his order and he paid before taking the bag. “Well, back to the salt mines for me, Miss Shana Brathwaite. I hope to see you around.”
“Have a great night,” she said knowing he wouldn’t if the Dame had anything to do with it. She’d have to discuss Grimes’s food choices with him so this never happened again.
He gave a small wave from the door, and she let out a slow breath as her food came out of the kitchen and she paid. Shana, a.k.a. Shadow, looked around, making sure there was no sight of him on the street before she walked briskly back to the building and slipped in through the same door in the alley. While Shana ate she thought about Christian Matthews. He had classic good looks, an angular jawline. His eyes were hazel, and his dark hair was cut neatly. Christian was at least a full head, or more, taller than her, if she had stood she wouldn’t’ve reached his shoulder.
In any case, that could not, would not, happen again; she couldn’t be associated with the man that would bring the Dame to her. If the worst happened, she wanted no guilt about who he was or what he was. In this job you learned not to make connections. La dama de las serpientes taught her that in the most brutal of ways. Shana’s hunger was sated and ready to crash for a few hours in her sleeping bag. Before sunrise she would be back on that roof in her position, and no one would tell her she was stunning. I’m not meant to be, Shana thought as she washed up in the bathroom that night and brushed her teeth. She studied herself in the mirror wondering what Christian saw in her that made her stand out to him. The only thing that would be known of her would be the precise placement of the bullet from her rifle, and even then, she wouldn’t be seen.
“Grimes, head on a swivel, I’ve got movement,” Shadow said into her comms piece. “One man walking a large box under his arm, Mercedes driving slow next to him.”
“Got it,” Grimes answered. “Could they be any more conspicuous as being a getaway car?”
Shadow chuckled. “No one said henchmen had to be smart.”
“What’s in the box?” Grimes wondered.
“Nothing good,” she murmured. “I don’t think it’s a bomb.”
Grime cut in. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m not; I don’t have X-ray vision,” Shadow snapped. “It’s not their style though. The Dame likes drama, poison being her favorite. The box has her calling card—Baby, be mine.”
“Poison flowers?” Grimes mused. “Diabolical.”
The man placed the box on the top step carefully before pressing the button for Christian’s apartment and then ran down the steps and into the car. The car drove off at a high speed and from the gingerly way he placed the box, Shadow wondered if it was truly a bomb.
“Grimes, go anonymous and call 911 and tell them it’s a possible bomb,” Shadow said. “God knows I don’t need this to be something that can hurt people walking by, or in the building. Get me Matthew’s cell number.”
“Is that wise?” Grimes asked dubiously. “I mean would she try to kill him now?”
“Yes, that’s why we’re here, remember? He’s refused all her advances,” Shadow replied. “She’s losing patience and amping up her game.”
“Still, Overwatch said no contact . . .”
“Grimes, get me the fucking number. I’ll take the hit if the boss has any issues,” she snapped.
“Jeez, okay. I sent it to your burner,” Grimes muttered.
If this was Carina’s last move to gain checkmate, Shadow would have to start the hunt all over again. The Dame would leave New York to head back to her compound. God knows Shadow didn’t want her to go back to Costa Rica, but she damn well would take that woman out one way or another. Her vendetta against the woman was beyond what Overwatch wanted. Her phone was hidden under the ledge by the rifle; she grabbed it and pressed the number quickly, and he answered on the second ring.
