Taylor looked at the scar in particular that she currently inspected with her fingers. That one was fairly unique since it had been caused when one of the larger monsters had fallen on top of him. The weight and force had damaged his armor and a chunk of his breastplate dug into his chest.
He hadn't been able to remove it and it had taken two days to get out of the Zoo before he could remove the chunk of metal buried in him. An infection had forced him to stay in the hospital for a few weeks while the doctors worked to keep him alive.
Once his time in the hospital was over, he was quick to head into the Zoo again. He was a sucker for punishment like that, even though it meant having a thick, ugly scar around his ribs.
There were many more of them spread across his body.
Bullet wounds could be seen here and there but they were outnumbered by what could only be described as injuries from claws and teeth. There was even a small burn scar on his left shoulder from when one of the acid-spitting lizards had gotten a little too close and winged him. It had mostly been absorbed by the armor he had worn but some had penetrated. He almost hadn't even felt it and only noticed a bright red welt when the suit was removed later in the day.
"Well, with regard to your question," Taylor began and weighed his words carefully, “you'll have to understand that the answer would be both. Yes.” He thought for a moment. “Both is a good answer. I've left a life where I got most of these behind me.” He looked at his chest and touched a few of the larger marks. “But my part-time job has me getting some too, although at a considerably slower rate. This one, for instance"—he pointed out a small scar on his left arm—“is from less than a month ago."
"You're weird." She chuckled and leaned in to place a light kiss on the scar near his ribs. "I like that, although you should probably note that no job is worth putting yourself in this kind of physical danger for, no matter how much it pays."
"Well, when I joined the military, I was paid jack shit and still put myself in this kind of danger, or worse," he pointed out.
She looked at him with a small smirk. "I guessed you were in the military, remember?"
He pulled himself into a seated position so she could see his back and a tattoo of a skull with a knife through it, under which the words Semper Fidelis were written. "Jarhead, right here."
"Huh." She frowned as she studied the tattoo. "I'm genuinely surprised that I missed it, although in my defense, I was focused on what was happening a little to the south of that region."
"Fair enough." He chuckled and dropped onto the bed again.
Alex pushed herself slowly to the edge and stood, stretched gracefully, and walked to the bathroom. Taylor didn't want to overstay his invitation, and while most of his trysts had a fairly secure timeline, he was actually unsure as to what he was supposed to do next.
Leaving while she was awake simply felt like bad form and leaving while she was asleep would mean her door remained unlocked until she woke up. That left her vulnerable to being burgled.
And it’s also a massively dick move.
He usually didn't put too much thought into these situations, but given that he genuinely liked being around Alex and had every intention to have a drink at Jackson's in the future, he was at something of a loss.
"Hey, so," she called from inside the bathroom, “do you mind if I ask you something?"
"Ask away." He stretched to gather his clothes.
"What is it that you do, precisely?" She stepped out and moved to a closet from which she selected a shirt that was a few sizes too large for her as well as a pair of light shorts. "I know, you said you couldn't really talk about it and I get that, but considering that you're former military and you look like you're getting ready for your fifth season with the NFL as a defensive end, I'm simply not sure what kind of work you could be involved in."
Taylor watched in silence as she climbed onto the bed, shifted to the side he was seated on, and draped her arms over his shoulders. "Would you believe me if I told you that I was a mechanical engineer?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Sure, the GI Bill can do all kinds of things for you, but not if you say that’s all you do. All things considered, I don't think a career in engineering would result in these kinds of scars. Just saying. And especially not this recently."
"Well, it's difficult to say, honestly. I do have a job working as an engineer at a business that is getting up and running thanks to the connections I made during my time in the service. I actually like doing it, and it's a job I'm good at."
"So I guess your part-time job is the one that gives you all these." She stroked a recent scar that was intersected virtually in the middle by a couple of very recent nail scars.
"Something like that, yeah."
"I honestly don't understand why someone who has a job he genuinely likes would go out of his way for a part-time gig that gets him all battered." Alex leaned down to place a kiss near the mark like she wanted to help to make it better.
Okay, that felt really nice. She could continue that with a few more.
"Well, you have to believe me when I say I have my reasons," Taylor said. He turned to look at her and ran a finger lightly over her cheek. "Like you'll have to believe me when I say there is a whole pile of legal paperwork that prevents me from telling you all about it."
She nodded. "I suppose I understand, although you can't expect me to not be curious."
"I wouldn't dream of it." He chuckled, kissed her lightly on the lips, and pushed himself from the bed. It was time to change the subject. "I think I need to head out for the night."
"So you won’t spend the night with me?" She smiled and raised an eyebrow.
"I don't think I will, no." He began to put his clothes on. "Is that a problem?"
"I was joking," Alex said and laughed. "Okay, I wouldn’t have kicked you out but if I'm honest, I do sleep better when I'm alone in bed. And after tonight, I'll need all the sleep I can get."
"Are you working tomorrow?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"I have to say that your easygoing nature about this is refreshing," Taylor said once he’d hauled his shirt on. "Most women I meet would rather not be a part of the whole 'wham bam thank you ma'am' situation."
She shrugged expressively. "You'll come back to Jackson's so I'll see you again. And all things considered, I have a feeling this kind of thing will be a regular occurrence. You fuck like a man possessed so you'd better believe I'll come back for seconds.” She studied him and the trace of humor in her eyes faded. “But let me be clear when I say I'm using you for sex." She tilted her head to the left to emphasize her point with a stern expression. “Terrific sex, sure, but still a good hard fuck.”
Taylor stared at her in silence for a moment. He hadn't expected that but he hadn't been lying when he said that it was a refreshing change of pace.
"Well, I can't say I disagree," he said. "And you'd better believe that I'll be back for another round."
"I know." She winked and climbed off the bed to walk him to the door. "And I'll be waiting."
He couldn't help the grin that slid onto his face and remained in place as he made his way to the elevator. It lasted until he was out of the building and halfway to Jackson’s in the Uber. Liz needed to go home as much as he did.
Stakeouts were the absolute worst.
There wasn't anything in the world Jon hated more than being stuck in a car, waiting for shit he had no power over to catch up with his need to get the fuck out. He had felt that way when he was a kid waiting for his mom to finish the shopping and her conversation with the neighbor, Denise.
And he felt that way now seated outside what looked like a dingy apartment building while they waited for their target to exit. Word of his return to town had reached them a couple of hours before and he and Mike had been lucky enough to catch him driving away with a chick he'd met at the bar.
Their paperwork told them that Taylor McFadden was living in the strip mall he had purchased less than a month befor
e and not this apartment building. It meant that this was her home, and from the looks of it, they had no plans to look at her snow globe collection.
Some people tried to make stakeouts better with good, guilty pleasure foods like fried chicken or pizza. Others brought board games or had games on their phones and chargers that made sure they never needed to worry about their battery time.
Unfortunately, none of that changed the fact that they were stuck in their car until this McFadden guy had finished poking some chick, which would allow them to continue to follow him around the city.
As he shifted in the seat yet again to try to find an elusive comfortable position, he considered the way things might play out. The first prize was that this was a hit and run booty call. Unfortunately, the guy might also decide to spend the night, which meant they would have to do the same. That led to the even more unpleasant realization that he and his partner would have to set out a sleeping schedule, and that meant neither of them would have enough sleep or even restful sleep.
Trust the annoying fucker to screw that up too.
He reminded himself that they were being paid forty grand each to do this. While he could agree that it was worth it for the monetary compensation, it didn't change the fact that waiting around in a stakeout sucked hairy rat balls.
Mike looked equally miserable. Both had been in this kind of situation before. The best missions had been when they were with a team that included someone who knew their way around computers. It entirely avoided scenarios like this one since they could mostly track the person's movements through cameras around the city.
Unfortunately, they couldn't count on that being the case every time and every once in a while, they needed to dust off their stakeout skills and put them to the test.
"Do you want to play a game?" Mike asked finally to break the silence that had settled over them.
Jon couldn't understand what kind of game could be played at this time of night, but at this point, he really didn't care. All that mattered was something could be done to alleviate the boredom.
"Sure." He straightened in his seat and growled irritably when something cracked in his neck. "What did you have in mind?"
"I…fuck, I wish I had something in mind—and that wouldn’t be a distraction." His companion shook his head. "Even I Spy would draw our attention off where it has to be, right?"
He shrugged. "At this point, I would play fucking tic-tac-toe simply to give us something to do. But you’re right. The only game we have going is Spot The Target. Seriously, are stakeouts not the fucking worst?"
"Agreed, but only when you're not able to occupy yourself. If we could only use some of those phone games that can wrap up three or four hours without us even realizing it."
"Yeah, but if you're distracted with a game, you don’t pay attention to the subject of the stakeout," he pointed out.
"Sure, and even though there are two of us, it’s not how we work." Mike sounded as morose as he felt. "We both know that it’s all too easy for something to slip by the both of us even while we're watching. We can’t afford to mess this one up. It could be our ticket to a whole new and very lucrative future."
"Good point." He couldn't help a long, protracted sigh. It occurred to him that sometimes, being a professional might be a pain in the ass. Things had been so much easier when he’d mainly had to rely on muscle and the ability to follow instructions. He thought of all the wannabe private dicks who seemed to make a living out of half-baked surveillance and shoddy investigative skills.
Unfortunately, men like him and his partner needed to establish and maintain their edge if they wanted to advance in their industry. Professionalism would be what set them apart from the riffraff and they wanted to be set apart. It was the pros who got to dictate terms, and although they still had a shitload of learning to do, this was a good short-cut to a bright future.
Still, they would have to survive a potentially long fucking night if he had nothing to do that could keep his mind occupied without drawing his attention away from the target.
"Well, well, things are looking up. I don't think we'll need to pull straws for the first sleep shift after all," Mike said.
"What makes you think that?" His partner's sudden change in perspective brought a surge of hope.
"Because he's leaving the building." The other man inclined his head slightly in the direction of the apartments.
Jon leaned forward in his seat to peer across the street where, sure enough, their mark now stood. He grinned and his mood eased considerably. Hit and run McFadden might or might not have satisfied the girl, but he’d damn well satisfied his watchers.
The tinted windows of the sedan they had rented made sure the man had no idea he was being watched, but any sudden movements from them could change that. It was best to remain calm for the moment.
"Do you think we should tag the girl as potential leverage?" he asked and made a mental note of the address.
"A less than one-night stand?" Mike shook his head. "Probably not. Still, it can't hurt to keep tabs, right? Keep her on the radar, just in case."
"Right," Jon agreed as an Uber pulled up to give McFadden a ride.
Chapter Twelve
Although Taylor wasn't sure at what point in the evening his spirits were actually lifted, there was no changing the fact that they had been.
Either the conversation with Alex or the sex—or maybe both—had done the trick. He only realized it during the ride to Jackson's to pick his truck up, though.
He paid the driver, collected Liz, and headed to the strip mall in what essentially amounted to a blur. It all culminated in him falling asleep quickly in the bed he had set up in the area he had assigned as living quarters in the building. It might have been a better option to stick around at her apartment and sleep in a real bed, but he’d no sooner formulated the thought before he nodded off to sleep like a baby.
The next morning arrived quicker than he would have liked and gave him about six hours of sleep before his alarm blared.
He grumbled softly and fumbled for his phone so he could shut it off and maybe sleep in a little. Didn’t he deserve that shit after the long day he'd had the day before? He'd made enough bank to justify calling in a personal day on a Wednesday.
Like, what’ll HR do to me?
It took him longer than he would have liked to realize that he hadn't set an alarm the night before and the warning that blared from his phone told him someone was approaching the strip mall and had been picked up by his security system.
"Fucking…goddammit," he grumbled, pushed up on the bed, and remained seated for a moment while he inspected his bare chest. There were more than a few signs of the rough kind of sex Alex enjoyed and which he had rather liked as well. Scratch marks were quite visible all the way up his chest, and from how raw the skin on his back felt, he could only assume the situation was worse there.
"She’d fucking better hope she's sore today," he muttered under his breath. "I hope she has a weird but incredibly noticeable hitch in her step, too."
That last hope had little to do with retribution, however. He yanked a shirt and pants on before he headed down to the shop where Bobby had already turned the security system off and settled on one of the tables with a couple of coffees along with a box of donuts.
"Morning, sunshine," his friend said, as chipper as always. "I hope I didn't wake you."
Taylor responded with a grunt that ended in a sigh. Basically, anyone who had spent any time in the military knew how to be functional from one second to the next when waking up early in the morning, no matter how much sleep had actually been enjoyed. Despite that, it didn't make them all morning people. That was especially the case for him and he honestly wouldn't have minded spending most of the morning in bed, even if it meant having to catch up on work for a few hours later in the evening.
Unfortunately, Bobby was infuriatingly and enthusiastically a morning person.
He represented the really special kind of asshole wh
o preferred to be up early instead of late at night. Seeing someone as cheery and upbeat as the stout Jet Li-looking motherfucker was definitely something to piss Taylor off. The fact that he knew he was annoyed for no damn reason only made it worse.
"How are you feeling, boss?" his friend asked and put one of the coffees in front of him, sensing his foul mood.
Taylor paused and looked at the coffee for a moment before he took a sip. It was black with a ton of sugar, exactly like he had gotten used to while in the corps.
It was the kind of coffee that carried a kick to it too, and he sighed, a little refreshed after a couple of sips.
"I’m feeling marginally better if I'm honest," he admitted. "The blues from yesterday have passed and I feel like a brand-new man."
Bobby narrowed his eyes. "You got laid, didn't you?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, I did," he replied with a smirk and a wink.
"Yeah, well, that'll do it. Getting some of the hormones out of your body does tend to help when you feel down in the dumps. The only problem is that most women don't think a depressed man is attractive."
"Well, that's simply because you're doing it wrong. If you pull it off right, it looks less like you're depressed and more like you're dark and brooding. Women start losing their panties when they find a guy who’s dark and brooding."
"I guess so." The other man chuckled. "I was never able to pull it off, though."
"I'm not sure if it's something that can be taught or if it's something you're born with." Taylor took another sip. "If it's the latter, I'm fairly sure I'm with you in never being able to pull it off. With that said, it was needed and damned if it didn't work."
His friend snickered, took a sip of his coffee, and wolfed one of the donuts. "Well, moving right past your sex life and to the matter at hand, I was able to collect a handful of resumes from folks I've worked with before who could use a job here. I’m not saying I know any of them well enough to vouch for them, but I did select those I knew to be hard workers.” He glanced at his boss. “That was what we were looking for, right?"
Silent Death (Cryptid Assassin Book 2) Page 9