That had been hard. But she’d had a mother who loved her, even when she didn’t understand. Her father had cared enough to at least try to explain. She’d had some ground to stand on, and if her early experiments with her arrows had been difficult ones, at least she’d had a safe place to experiment.
Vincent had none of those things, and her heart went out to him. To have no words to explain what was going on with him, to know nothing about who he was and where he came from…she couldn’t imagine it. A life without her father’s letter. What would have happened to her? Could she have done as he did and build a life from literally nothing?
She wasn’t the kind of person to judge people by their appearance or their possessions. After all, she’d hunted down so many attractive, rich people who were rotten inside. Still, it was tough to get past that knee jerk reaction that equated lack of success with lack of…something. Motivation or skill or luck, maybe. When she looked at Vincent’s cruddy little car, or his one room apartment, or his delivery job, it was tempting to look at those as signs that he wasn’t worth her time. But once it was put into perspective, she wasn’t sure most people were worth his time.
As she got into her luxury rental, she felt a pang of guilt. She didn’t really deserve these things any more than he did. Perhaps she could do something to help him out, something beyond finding out whatever she could about his situation. If she saw the opportunity, she would have to take it. It was the right thing to do.
In the meantime, she needed to check in with Annamarie on a couple of issues. So she used her hands free set to make a quick call as she pulled out into traffic.
“No luck finding Ignazio,” said Annamarie instead of hello. “How did you manage to lose him again?”
“It’s a long story,” replied Lara. “Any luck getting through to Mick?”
“You know he doesn’t answer the phone. Or email. Or texts. Mostly because he’s hoping it means you’ll come by.”
Annamarie’s voice dripped annoyance, and Lara shared the sentiment. Mick Phillips was the best forger in the entire US, but he also couldn’t take no for an answer. Lara had barely restrained herself from putting her heel down his throat the last time she’d consulted with him, and Annamarie constantly had to field complaints from the two other female hunters on the payroll. She was as sick of it as they were. But if Ignazio Balma was still trying to make a break for it, he either needed to do it under his name, or he needed a new one. And no one got a new name in Vegas without going through Mick.
Lara sighed. “Fine. I’ll stop by his place. And I’ll try not to maim him.”
“I wish you the best of luck. Now tell me what happened. I know you’re holding back.”
“There’s another player here,” said Lara cautiously. She wasn’t sure how much to say, but Annamarie had all kinds of information at her fingertips. She didn’t want to rat Vincent out, but this was her best chance at getting some useful info. “Have you ever heard of…let’s call them angels of death. They have visions of people who need to die, and when they touch them, the intended victim just keels over.”
“Wait…what?” Annamarie sounded intrigued, which was good. And bad. “Are you saying that you’ve found someone who does that?”
“Maybe…” Lara hedged. “I’m not sure what’s real and what’s not. What I need to know is whether such a thing is possible. Is it?”
“I don’t know,” said Annamarie over the sound of rapid fire typing. “I’ve never heard of such a thing as far as I remember, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I do have a handful of reports of angels who could actually manifest wings and flaming swords. Your angel doesn’t have either of those things, does he? Or she? It? Do angels have gender?”
“This one appears to be male for all intents and purposes.”
“But he might be all smooth down here. Like a Ken doll. You never know with angels.”
“I…that’s totally beside the point, Annamarie. Try to stay on target.”
“It’s not my fault that you’re out there with Tanith Q and angels and I’m stuck in this office. I have to live vicariously through someone. And I’m still typing, so get off my back.”
“Sorry.”
“Fine. Is he cute, this angel of death?”
“He looks like the Hollywood version of a bounty hunter. Long hair. Lean and dressed all in black.”
“Oooooh. Does he wear a fedora? I go crazy for men in hats.”
“Sorry,” said Lara again, not really feeling sorry at all. Annamarie wasn’t being much of a help. And she had to go see Mick, which always put her in a foul mood.
“Oh well. No one’s perfect.” Annamarie fell silent, and the typing stopped, so Lara waited with bated breath. “Nope. No luck in the database. But I can keep digging.”
“Please do.”
“Wait a second. So your angel is tied up with the hunt for Ignazio? Is that why you didn’t snag him?”
“Something like that.” But Lara didn’t really want to talk about that right now. Because putting Vincent on Annamarie’s radar without his approval didn’t feel like the right thing to do. “I should probably go. The traffic is extra crappy today.”
Perhaps Annamarie realized that Lara was trying to get off the phone, or maybe she was just eager to get on with her research into the whole angel of death thing. Either way, she didn’t protest.
“Sure thing,” she said instead. “I’ll let you know if I find anything out. Check in once you leave Mick’s so I know I don’t need to send in the cavalry, will you?”
“Yeah, I’ll be in touch,” Lara promised before hanging up the phone.
She drove the rest of the way to Mick’s place—hidden in a nondescript warehouse tucked behind a mall—in quiet thought. She’d done everything she could to find Ignazio. All of her searches were still running, because she always left them up until the target had been delivered. Sometimes things happened, and she couldn’t get a shot, or the person didn’t show up as expected, and she went back to the drawing board. He wasn’t getting a ticket or a rental anywhere in town, and if he tried a hotel under his real name, she’d have him then too. He couldn’t get cash from a bank without triggering her search parameters. It was only a matter of time until she caught him…unless he managed to change his name.
That was where Mick came in, and she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation but couldn’t find any way around it. The fear on Vincent’s face had been real. She was willing to bet on it. Which meant that he’d lost targets before, and people really had died. She couldn’t let it happen without a fight, no matter what she’d told Vincent. Failure was never that easy, although she could make herself push through it.
She pulled into a spot at the warehouse, went to the door, and pushed the buzzer. After a good thirty seconds, Mick finally answered.
“Hey, hotness,” he said through the intercom. “You’re looking especially delicious today.”
“I’m not here for compliments, Mick. I need to ask some questions,” she said, shooting a pointed look at the camera over the door. “Let me in.”
“Twirl for me first.”
“Bite me,” she shot back.
“Gladly, once you get inside. Now twirl. I want to see what you’re wearing. That tracksuit is nice. Is it designer?”
His voice was cocky and full of self-satisfied bemusement, and for a moment, Lara contemplated getting back into her car and driving off. But then again, what would he lose? The retainer that the agency paid him? He’d more than make up with that with fake IDs. Mick wasn’t exactly low on cash. No, she was the one who would lose, and Vincent too. Not to mention the people who would probably die when Ignazio did…whatever he was going to do to kill people. She realized now that she wasn’t entirely clear on how that would happen. She’d been a bit thrown off her game by all the unusually empathetic feelings Vincent had managed to bring out in her.
“Fine,” she said, stepping toward the door and zipping her jacket up all the way. At least then h
e wouldn’t be able to get a good look at her ass or down her cleavage given the angle of the camera. Then she spun. “There. Open the door.”
“No, do it again. Slower,” he said over the speaker.
“Mick,” she said, letting her anger fill her voice. “A deal is a deal. It’s not my fault if you’re not smart enough to negotiate. Now open the door or I’ll break it open.”
“Oooooh.” His laugh filled the air. “I like it when you’re mad.”
By this time, she was practically out of her mind with anger. It was a good thing that the buzzer sounded, because she might have thrown herself at the door. And there was no way she’d be able to open it. He’d spared no expense on the security measures here. The camera and intercom system were fairly pedestrian because they were visible to the public, or as public as this little business park got. But inside? She’d gotten some hints of his setup over the past few years, and she was impressed.
She pushed her way in and down the hallway where she knew she was being scanned. But she must have passed muster, because she made it all the way to the elevator, which didn’t shut down and lock her in. It took her to Mick’s basement instead.
The doors opened on a wall covered in titty posters. Literally, from ceiling to floor. Lara didn’t mind boobs, but she could do without seeing so many of them in the course of her business day. It reminded her of the few times she had to pose as an adult dancer to get to her intended target. It was an industry she didn’t care to revisit unless she had to.
She walked down the hallway and pushed open the door at the end. Mick sat in a rolling office chair, leaning back with his hands laced behind his head and obvious enjoyment on his face as he raked her with his eyes. He still carried some of the rugged hardness he’d gained from years in the military, but he’d gotten grizzled since his discharge. Although his lawbreaking and womanizing tendencies weren’t new like the grey at his temples. From what she’d heard, he’d always been out for what he could take regardless of the cost.
“So what can I do for you?” he drawled, making his real meaning more than clear.
It made her want to kick his teeth in, but she did what she always did and took a deep breath before answering.
“I need to know if you’ve done any IDs for an Ignazio Balma. And if not, I need you to let me know if he comes in,” she said, not wasting any time. It wasn’t worth it. Not with Mick.
“Come sit on my lap, and I’ll tell you,” he invited.
It was an over the top suggestion, and from the light in his eyes, he knew it. He delighted in seeing the indecision that flitted over women’s faces when he did things like that. Normally, he didn’t push her that hard, but her angry comments outside must have riled him.
For a moment, she thought about shooting him with an arrow, get her information, and leave him pining after her for eternity. But as tempting as it was, she knew it would be more than dangerous. Men like Mick equated possession with love. He longed for control over her already. If he was deeply in love with her, any remaining barriers between them would be dissolved. Every time she was in Vegas, he would be following her, if he didn’t just leave his business and follow her from city to city, looking for his opening to claim her for his own. Right now, she was just one of many targets. The idea of being the only one wasn’t a good thought at all. She could kill him, probably, but he could just as easily kill her. It wasn’t a gamble she was willing to make.
So as tempting as it was to see him grovel, she couldn’t do it. And she would not sit on his lap. If she did, it would be just a short jump to him touching her without her consent, or offering to trade information the agency had already paid for if only she’d let him touch her breast. She couldn’t let it slide that far, even if it meant she’d have to work double time to find Ignazio.
She hoped Vincent would understand. She just couldn’t do it.
“Well?” he prodded, gesturing to his lap. “There’s plenty of room.”
“No,” she responded simply, turning around and walking to the door. He said nothing, and her heart sank but she kept on going. She pushed open the door, already thinking about what she might do to get the information that Mick should have given her. She’d already tried to break into his system, but to no avail. Annamarie had tried too, and she was the better hacker, but she had no luck either.
“Okay, fine,” he grumbled as the door swung shut behind her. “What’s the bloke’s name?”
She stopped, holding the door open just enough to see in. She wasn’t about to step back into that room again and invite another power struggle.
“Ignazio Balma.”
“Nothing,” he said without moving from the chair.
“Aren’t you going to check your records?” she prompted.
“Unless you’re interested in going back more than a year, I don’t need to,” he said. “Stupid name. I’d remember it.”
“That’s all I needed then,” she said. “Thanks, Mick!”
She couldn’t help but pour an extra helping of saccharine onto her parting words as she tried to hurry to the elevator without looking like she was hurrying. To be honest, Mick made her want to take a shower just as much as Vinnie had. They both had some kind of psychic slime on them that infected everyone they came into contract with. Like an STD of the soul.
That was a disgusting thought. She shuddered as she got back into her car, grateful at least that she’d gotten that thankless task over and done with.
Chapter 6
Vincent sped into the parking lot at work like his pants were on fire and the only extinguisher left in the universe was somewhere inside the building. Competing worries jostled for position in his head. First and foremost was Ignazio—finding him before the Bad Thing happened, whatever that might be. He knew it would come, and the pressure had killed his attempts to summon up another vision. At least they had some time. Usually, the deaths happened a day or two later, which meant that Lara could work her magic. He had the utmost faith in her ability to locate their target. After all, she was a professional bounty hunter. That’s what they did. Find people.
Frankly, it felt good to be able to rely on someone. To have someone out there know what he was—or at least as much as he himself knew on the topic—and not judge him. He felt this strange combination of intense pressure and equally intense relief all at the same time.
He felt like the situation with Ignazio had to be okay, when he thought about it logically. It might not keep him from worrying, but at least it kept him from shutting himself in his apartment and crying in despair. He’d done that the first couple of times he’d missed his mark. It hadn’t accomplished anything.
Now, he was worried about Jin. After Lara had left, he’d tried to meditate a little, hoping to get to some measure of mental peace and maybe call up a vision of where Ignazio might be. But his excitement over all of the new developments kept getting in the way, and something was bothering him. When he glanced at his phone and saw all of the missed messages from Jin, he realized with a pang of regret what that thing was.
He was supposed to be working. In all of the excitement, he’d completely forgotten.
So he rushed back to the restaurant and was now running inside, hoping that she’d managed to keep up somehow. That she wasn’t mad at him. That she was okay.
He shoved his way through the doors, making the bells jingle violently. The two tables at the front of the house were empty, with no one waiting impatiently for orders. And the lot out back had also been empty. That could mean good news—no backlog of orders, or other delivery people out on the job—or bad—no one had shown up, and Jin was trying to run the entire operation herself.
“Just a second!” her familiar raspy voice called from the back. “I will be there in a second!”
“It’s just me!” he yelled. “I’m so sorry!”
“Fuckwit!” she replied, but it was a term of endearment for Jin. She liked to swear. Vincent thought of it like pulling pigtails in kindergarten. It might be
obnoxious behavior, but if she swore at you, it meant she really liked you.
After a moment, she came through the beaded curtain that separated the kitchen from the front counter. Jin was plump and middle aged, with her hair dyed bright purple. She liked to wear brightly patterned shirts with goofy prints. Today’s was the one that looked like paisley until you took a closer look and realized it was really penises. She’d bought it by mistake—or so she claimed—and had laughed uproariously when he’d pointed it out.
“What happened?” she demanded, wiping her hands dry on a towel. “You scared the ever loving bejeezus out of me!”
“I… I’m sorry, Jin,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
This was one of his least favorite things about being an angel of death. He hated lying to her, but what else could he do? She wouldn’t have believed him if he’d told the truth anyway.
“Did you get into an accident?” she asked. “Good thing your car is a piece of crap, but still.”
“No, I didn’t get into an accident.”
“Then what happened? That last delivery should have taken forty-five minutes tops, but you were gone for nearly two hours. I called you and called you.”
Emotions warred on her face. For all of her goofy behaviors, Jin really cared about him, and he could see beneath all of the bluster that she’d been really scared. He felt terrible about it, and even more so because he couldn’t explain it to her in a way that would help her understand that he hadn’t meant to frighten her.
“I…met a girl,” he said slowly. “It’s stupid.”
She put a hand to her heart, a wicked grin lighting up her lined face. “Wait. You met a girl? Like, a live one? Not one that you need to blow up?”
“I am not into blow up dolls. I prefer my women live and breathing.”
He tried to declare this without emotion to show how serious he was, but having to say it out loud was ludicrous. He ended up snickering uncontrollably by the end.
Jin threw up her hands as if to absolve herself of the entire conversation. “Who am I to judge? I haven’t had sex with a real person in nine years. If you’re into airheaded bimbos, that’s your business.”
The Supernaturals of Las Vegas Books 1-4 Page 52