Stifled (Summoned Book 2)

by Rainy Kaye

  “Great job, gumshoe,” I say, “but what you're telling me is that if we don't save this target, then we're S.O.L. because we won't have anymore leads.”

  “Yep, that's about right,” she says, then sighs and leans back in her seat. She stares out the passenger window. “I wonder if he knows that a jinn is coming for him.”

  “Doubt it. My victims never knew.”

  She turns to study me so long I open my mouth to ask her what addition to her research paper is she writing in her head.

  Something catches my eye in the rear view mirror.

  The roads are empty except for our car—and the one behind us. Goosebumps race down my arms. I'm not sure why. The vehicle is a light-colored jeep. The driver has thick hair and a mustache. Kind of Magnum PI. No one I recognize.

  He could go around, but there's also no point since I'm already fifteen over the speed limit.

  Either way, I don't like him. I frown, trying to figure out how to bait him into revealing himself. If I could turn somewhere, it would be easy to tell if he is actually following, but the road has no exits. So I keep driving straight ahead.

  “Syd,” I say, “did you happen to use your real information when you were snooping?”

  “Do I look stupid?”

  My frown deepens. Syd really is too much of a smart cookie to have given herself away online. Besides, anyone actually trailing us would probably be less obvious about it. I must be getting paranoid. Great, like there haven't been enough boogeymen in my life without making up some too.

  I slow down the car. A lot. If tortoises were out, they would be whizzing by. I know one thing for sure, and that is Arizona drivers won't tolerate this sort of shit. He should pound the horn a few times, realize he can go around, and flip me off while doing so.

  Instead, he slows down and stays behind me.

  Maybe he's from Canada. They don't know how to do proper road rage.

  “I gotta see what's up with this ass clown,” I say as I pull to the side of the road and flip on the emergency brake.

  Sure as hell, my buddy comes to a halt. He leaves his lights on and leans over to mess around in his glove compartment. My heart rate kicks up a notch. I keep my hands on the steering wheel, watching him through the rear view mirror.

  Syd starts to turn in her seat, but I grab her arm.

  “Don't do anything,” I whisper.

  She faces forward again, but twists one of the rings on her hand. I unbuckle my seat belt and swallow hard as he steps out of his jeep.

  He's not tall, but he's broad. Baggy jeans, white wife beater.

  He walks right up to my driver side.

  I shove open the door and step out so I'm face-to-face with him. He jerks, but doesn't move back.

  I tilt my head, hair falling into my eyes. “Can I help you?”

  He looks me up and down, then seems to collect himself. “Can I see your drivers license?”

  “What for?”

  “Border patrol,” he says.

  I sneer, because this guy is a liar. “Prove it.”

  He takes a step closer, even though we're practically nose-to-nose already. “Got a problem?”

  “I wouldn't if you were wearing the right outfit.”

  He grabs my arm. I pull away and slam my elbow into his face. Then I swing. He catches my fist and pushes me back into the car. I knee him in the gut and shove him to the ground. He tries to scramble to his feet. I kick him in the side. It barely fazes him. Dude is solid.

  His palm slams into my face. I see black and go numb. When sensation wiggles back in, I taste blood in the back of my throat. I try to swing at him again, but my arms are tingling. God dammit. He does his Kung-Fu thing again. My head hits the top of the car as I drop to the ground.

  I push up from the asphalt and into driver seat. He makes another move at me. I kick him in the knee and shove him back. My hand reaches behind me, to the console. I do have a gun in my jacket, but I'm not ready to put myself on the map yet. I need something to deter him, not kill him.

  I used to carry benzo syringes. Why did I stop?

  My fingers latch around something thin and hard inside the console. Pain throbs from the front of my face deep into my skull. My vision blurs in and out. I stab in his direction. Warmth flows over my hand.

  I struggle to see. He staggers back, grasping his throat. It takes me a minute to realize I jabbed him in the neck with Syd's nail file. I stare at him like I've never injured someone before. Except I have. This isn't fascinating. I think I'm just stunned.

  Then reality hits. He's not dead, and he's going to be pissed. I right myself behind the wheel, slamming the driver side door shut, and floor it.

  Syd's voice is controlled panic: “What the hell, Dim?”

  I don't respond. Not sure I can yet.

  She glances behind us then back at me. “Do you know that guy from somewhere?”

  “My masters are dead,” I say, ignoring her question. “I don't belong to anyone anymore.”

  “Uncle Larry,” Syd says, the dread in her words transferring to my chest.

  “That doesn't make sense.” I blink a few times, trying to clear my brain. “He could have taken the bond if he killed you, but you freed me first. So there's no reason he should be after us. Not unless he knows a loophole we don't.”

  The thought makes me lightheaded.

  Could there really be a way for the Walker-Ballantyne clan to take me back?

  Syd returns to staring out the passenger window and doesn't reply.

  I keep my foot heavy on the gas, and my mind races, trying to understand who is pursuing me, and why.

  We arrive in San Diego around the time the sun is peeking over the horizon. My eyes are gritty, but I'm otherwise ready to keep going. Syd, on the other hand, is yawning and struggling to stay awake. She looks pale. Watching her boyfriend stab a guy in the throat probably has that effect.

  I would like to drop her off at a hotel and then leave to do the reconnaissance on the target alone. No way she will go for that. This is her project, and she's going to want to be knee deep in it.

  The thought of her coming along makes me nervous. She is far from helpless, but this jinn will not be Sinbad's little cabin boy.

  Syd looks up at the hotel as we pull in. “What are we doing?”

  “You need sleep,” I say and step out of the car.

  She joins me at the trunk. We grab our bags, then head across the parking lot to the double glass lobby doors. In a few minutes, we're booked into a small room with a kitchenette. I drop the bags on the floor and flip on the TV. Hopefully the noise will drown out the questions still pestering my brain. There are no answers for them right now.

  Syd pulls back the covers on the bed as I head to the vanity. I scrub my hands with soap and hot water. As hot as I can stand it. When my hands are red, I dry them off and turn to face Syd. She's standing in the middle of the room, frowning and staring at the TV. She's not actually watching it.

  I drop the towel on the vanity and cross the room to her.

  “I doubt he's dead.” I wrap my arms around her. “Pretty sure I didn't hit his jugular.”

  She looks up, meeting my gaze.

  “I don't care.” Her tone is flat as a flitter.

  A small shudder creeps up my spine. Sometimes I forget Syd is related to Karl. Her family never seems to have a problem with turning off emotions when it comes to death.

  I'm kind of envious.

  “I don't think he's working for Uncle Larry,” she says. “I know all of Larry's acquaintances and this isn't a job you just freelance to anybody. I think that guy was working for Karl's wife.”

  I'm taken back. “Eileena? She doesn't have the bloodline, so there's no way she could've claimed me even if I was still under the genie bond.”

  Syd breaks away and sits on the edge of the bed. “No, maybe not, but you did kill Silvia.”

  Eileena and Karl's daughter. Syd's cousin. I hadn't intended to kill her, but she attacked Syd. No contest.<
br />
  I shrug. “I suppose she could be a little butt-hurt over the whole ordeal.”

  “Dimitri, this could be serious.”

  “I survived living with that dumb muppet for twenty-three years,” I say, trying to sound unconcerned. “She isn't going to do anything to me now.”

  Syd turns to watch me as I remove my jacket and slip down under the covers. I don't know why I bother lying to her. She already knows the truth, and we should have seen this coming: the Walker-Ballantyne clan spent decades in a war against each other to own the family genie. Everyone who survived lost their chance when Syd freed me.

  They want revenge.

  ***

  I wake to Syd braced above me, her hands planted on either side of my head. She leans down to nibble on my jaw. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. She yelps, then laughs. I bury my face in her neck and suck on the delicate skin until she squirms.

  She pulls back and rubs the red spot on her neck. “What are you? Thirteen?”

  I hug her back to me, but she struggles away.

  “You should get up so we can go find this guy,” she says.

  “Do we even know where we're going?”

  She hops down from the bed, crosses the room to the table, and picks up her phone.

  “Yeah, I put the address in the GPS. Says it's about ten minutes from here.” She glances at me. “How do we do this?”

  I push to a sit and study her. She is busy poking buttons on her phone screen, but something tells me it's not from nervous energy. She's excited.

  I rise from the bed and head toward the vanity. “Is this the guy's house?”

  “Yeah, all of the murders took place in the victim's home, usually in the early evening. It was one of the factors I used to link them together.”

  At the sink, I rinse my face and hair, then towel off. “We're just going to go case it, then we'll come back here and I'll go wait out for the jinn.”

  I hold my breath. Three. . .two. . .one. . .

  “Wait a second,” Syd says with an edge.

  Boom.

  I sigh. “Syd, come on, get real. This could be really dangerous.”

  “Pretty sure I can handle the genie bond,” she says, throwing me an accusatory look.

  Figures every time we get in argument, she's going to shove in my face that I once tried to kill her.

  “There are other problems,” I say, “like, ya know, the authorities. If we're caught breaking in, we could go to jail.”

  She purses her lips as she sets her phone back on the table. “You're on record now, if you forget. So you're at just as much risk as I am. Unless there's another reason you don't want me to go.”

  I contemplate my next words, because, judging by the look on her face, they could be my last. Nothing safe comes to mind, so I stare at her dumbly.

  Her eyes narrow. “Bail money would have been a good excuse.” She growls and waves her hands in front of her. “Dimitri! You think I'll slow you down!”

  “Well, you will!” I stalk to my jacket and start filling the pockets with guns and ammo. Things I should have had with me when we first set out instead of leaving it in the trunk. I need to start acting like I did before.

  Syd is still glaring at me when I finish.

  “You can't admit that I've had just a tiny bit more experience with this?” I slip on my jacket and give her a look, pleading for her to be rational.

  She remains angry a few minutes longer. Then she gives a flustered sigh and snatches up her phone. “Fine. Whatever.”

  We head out the door, Syd plodding along behind me like I just kicked her puppy. She grew up surrounded by the folklore. She daydreamed about the jinn. Despite seeing the gruesome side after meeting me, a part of her will forever romanticize the genie bond.

  Her enthusiasm makes for great sex. Otherwise, it will get her killed.

  I prefer a mad Syd toa dead Syd.

  We load up into the car. She passes her phone to me with the address already mapped, then turns away to look out the side window.

  I'll find a way to cheer her up later. Maybe on the dining table, if it's sturdy enough.

  I back the car out of the lot and turn onto the road.

  Before we even reach the first light, Syd says, “I won't get to meet the jinn then.”

  “I'll invite her over to dinner,” I say. “Then we can all play Monopoly.”

  “It's not funny.” Syd turns to face me. “You know how much this means to me, Dim.”

  I hesitate. “Okay, look, if she's not all murderous-stabby-rages, then I'll see what I can do to arrange a meet and greet. Good?”

  Syd frowns. “I guess, but I don't see how that will work.”

  I say, “Just hang tight, and I'll figure it out.”

  ***

  We park on the curb on the opposite side of the street and take in the target's house. It's two stories and looks as if made from modular parts, with bay windows and turret tops. Not quite like the mansion I grew up in, but definitely on par with what I'm accustomed to breaking into during kills. Rich people.

  This is all too eerily familiar.

  That is, except I think I'm actually here to save someone. The realization makes me off-kilter. I shove down the feeling and glance at Syd. “How long before you're expecting this rocket to fire?”

  “Early evening,” she says and takes back her phone. “So in the next couple of hours. What are we going to do 'til then?”

  “Just hang out,” I say.

  She looks at me, mouth half-open as if questions are slipping down from her brain. Then she slams her jaw shut, shrugs one shoulder, and turns back to the window.

  We watch the house in silence, which is as exciting as eating wood chips. The car is already in plain sight since there's no concealed place to park, but I keep the radio off anyway. No point drawing more attention to ourselves. If there's anyone around to notice.

  Time drags by. It would help if something actually happened. Anything. Someone pull in. Someone leave. Hell, I would go for watching someone wheel the trash to the curb. But the neighborhood remains silent.

  “I wonder if the house is even occupied,” Syd mutters, then looks at me. “This waiting thing is dull. How did you do it?”

  “By not having any choice, mainly,” I say.

  Her eyes widen, then her lips pinch together and she turns away again.

  After a moment, she speaks without looking at me. “Did you know that the first giant panda born and raised until an adult in the US was at the San Diego Zoo?”

  I roll my eyes, but grin. “No, Syd, I didn't.”

  “Her name is Hua Mei.”

  “Is there something about this I should know? A double meaning?”

  Before she answers, a car speeds by and whips into the driveway. I lean forward in my seat to see around her. A pale woman with blond curls pulled back in a ponytail gets out of the car, shuffles around the backseat, then yanks out two blue bags. She heads for the front door.

  “We have lift off,” I say and throw my car into gear.

  Syd finally looks at me again. Her tone is determined: “I want to go with you.”

  “Not happenin'.” I flip the car around to head back the way we came.

  She glares at me, but I ignore her. I have already explained my stance. She can sulk all she wants.

  I pull into the hotel parking lot and lean over to kiss her. She turns away, chin jutted. I halt, then shrug and peck her cheek.

  “I promise not to have too much fun,” I say.

  She huffs as she steps out of the car and stalks toward the hotel. Without even a glance back, she flips me off and disappears around the corner.

  I have a lot of making up to do tonight.

  I can't wait.

  Grinning like an idiot, I head back to the target's house. All thoughts of how I'm going to appease Syd later fade away as I approach my destination. I kill the engine and size up the front again. There's no discreet way inside, so my best bet is to get to the backyar
d before anyone notices me.

  I check my jacket pockets—gun, silencer, and wallet—then step onto the sidewalk. The street is quiet. Totally a Twilight Zone setting. Like the fact I'm hunting jinn isn't weird enough.

  I look both directions to make sure the coast is clear. Then I run. Straight across the street and down the side yard. I heave myself up and over the back brick wall.

  I land, stumble forward, then fall face first into gravel.

  Nope, still not Superman.

  I push myself up and dust off my clothes. Maybe I should reconsider this twenty pounds of jacket thing.

  My gaze raises and travels across the yard. A rock swimming pool with a short waterfall; a railed deck covered by a naked pergola; and a tall gazebo woven with vines. Pretty much what I expected to find back here.

  Now I just need to figure out a way into the house without being heard. Stealth has never been my thing.

  I study the sliding glass doors. Popping open the security screen is easy, but I'm not overly adept with picking the lock on the glass door. Plus, anyone with half a brain cell and the Discovery channel knows to drop a rod into the track so it won't slide open.

  I turn my attention to the window. No security bars, thank God. If I'm really lucky, it is unlatched. I plod toward the deck.

  A sound issues behind me.

  I halt in my steps.

  The noise again. Low. Menacing. Snarling.

  Well, shit.

  I turn slowly, half-afraid to startle the beast and half-afraid to see what is glowering behind me. Then I'm facing the monster.

  I don't know what type of dog it is, but it stands a good twenty-five inches at its back, has shoulders like a linebacker, and weighs more than I do. With another head or two, that damn thing would be Cerberus.

  Judging by the curl of its lip and the demonic noise rumbling in its chest, it is not happy to meet me.

  I stop breathing while I try to remember how to handle guard dogs.

  Make myself appear bigger? No, wait, that's bears.