04-28-2020, 01:25 AM
(This post was last modified: 04-28-2020, 01:26 AM by Jay Carpenter.)
It was a rather relaxing time, as far as studying maps of potential cartel safe houses while a beautiful woman did the same could be called relaxing. Her hair shone like the sun, and once in a while, Jay couldn’t help but rake his fingers through the silky strands. It was like catching streams of sand. He’d never get it all, but the sensation was nice.
“I have the power back, and cowboy is a good look on me.” He did miss that Stetson. It was going to be hot where they were going. A hat may be a good purchase to make along the way. Not exactly stealthy, but Jay worked the field kit enough times in his life. He didn’t like that Natalie spoke with Amengual. Nor did he want to know what the hell he had to say to her, but he’d been at the ball. Jay remembered that epiphany clear as anything. He’d seen him with Natalie. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together and track down a public figure, which was what Natalie was. May as well have been a lady from the high court, famous and valuable for the right leverage.
Amengual could take his shot at leverage. Little would it get him. Nor would he win if pitted up to the Ascendancy. Whatever cause pulled the drug lord to Moscow would be lost against the master player. Jay had no doubt. “Ascendancy needs me as much as I need—” he didn’t finish that sentence. He needed to be a part of this as much as he needed revenge. Because what was he if not someone’s weapon? “Reason is he tried to kill one of the Dominions and threatened the Custody. That’s good enough justification. If he wants details, I’ll show him this,” he pulled at the collar of his shirt, knowing full well Natalie recently held view of the necrotic lines beneath. Plus it was a good parlor trick. Nice and shocking.
He was dressed shortly afterward, “I’m going for food across the street. Text me what you want me to bring you back,” he said. When he left, it was with a careful swing of the door and swift scan of the surroundings just in case. Finally, he rapped on the door with his knuckles. “Lock this.” He grinned and pulled it shut.
Across the street, Jay nursed a cup of black sludge otherwise known as diner coffee – best on the planet in his opinion – while waiting for food. He chose the corner of the bar to wait. Half perched on a stool and half standing ready to bolt out the door at any moment. The power was back. Natalie waited for his return. Sludge in hand. Life was a shade better than shit at the moment. Borrowed wallet in hand, he frowned and finally made himself power up the account. Three messages.
He stared at the first two. Time stamp was recent. A few hours apart. A pit formed in his stomach. Mom and dad. They were trying to get ahold of him despite what Jensen must have shared. A tightness curled its way into his chest. They must have found Cayli by now. Her bloodied, dirty body would be bathed and dressed for a casket. Maybe they would fix her hair the way she liked it. Or used to when she was little. She was girly. Hopefully she had something with those pink satin cushions on the inside.
Heat rimmed his eyes and he deleted both messages without responding. Meantime, he conjured up a sarcastic response to Nox, briefly wondering how the arm was blown off. The tightness in his chest was about to ease when gunshots blared from the kitchen.
He jumped to his feet, power aimed to decimate the building, when he realized the cursing of cooks yelling at each other not screams for help. Not gunshots. Just dropped pans. He swallowed, rubbing his temple and shook his head. He was too on edge. More than he liked. Not that he liked the edge of anything, let alone walking the fine line of insanity.
“Hey, is it going to be much longer?” He asked of the waitress, a woman in her fifties with more gray in her hair than black. He tried a smile to ease the rudeness of the ask, but she just shrugged and checked the window.
“Throwing meat on the grill now. Couple more minutes, sugar,” she said.
Jay should have nodded. Thanked her. Estimated the amount of time left. Something. Instead, he just stood there. Meat on the grill. He shook his head, but the words stuck in the brain. The smell of it filled the diner, and his mouth went dry. Smoke curled on the air, but breaths came short and painful. He couldn’t breathe. It burned in the throat. He wrapped his arms around himself, palms rubbing the skin he could still smell sizzling under Placaso’s pincers.
The last thing he saw was the diner door blowing off its hinges as he ran through it. When he returned to the hotel room, he was covered in sweat, but not from exertion. Shaking wracked his whole body as he slumped to the carpet and buried his head between his knees. The door was closed and locked behind him. Meat on the grill. Meat on the grill. He wasn’t sure if he was saying it out loud, or if the thoughts in his head were for his own personal enjoyment.
Worst of all. He didn’t get the food.
“I have the power back, and cowboy is a good look on me.” He did miss that Stetson. It was going to be hot where they were going. A hat may be a good purchase to make along the way. Not exactly stealthy, but Jay worked the field kit enough times in his life. He didn’t like that Natalie spoke with Amengual. Nor did he want to know what the hell he had to say to her, but he’d been at the ball. Jay remembered that epiphany clear as anything. He’d seen him with Natalie. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together and track down a public figure, which was what Natalie was. May as well have been a lady from the high court, famous and valuable for the right leverage.
Amengual could take his shot at leverage. Little would it get him. Nor would he win if pitted up to the Ascendancy. Whatever cause pulled the drug lord to Moscow would be lost against the master player. Jay had no doubt. “Ascendancy needs me as much as I need—” he didn’t finish that sentence. He needed to be a part of this as much as he needed revenge. Because what was he if not someone’s weapon? “Reason is he tried to kill one of the Dominions and threatened the Custody. That’s good enough justification. If he wants details, I’ll show him this,” he pulled at the collar of his shirt, knowing full well Natalie recently held view of the necrotic lines beneath. Plus it was a good parlor trick. Nice and shocking.
He was dressed shortly afterward, “I’m going for food across the street. Text me what you want me to bring you back,” he said. When he left, it was with a careful swing of the door and swift scan of the surroundings just in case. Finally, he rapped on the door with his knuckles. “Lock this.” He grinned and pulled it shut.
Across the street, Jay nursed a cup of black sludge otherwise known as diner coffee – best on the planet in his opinion – while waiting for food. He chose the corner of the bar to wait. Half perched on a stool and half standing ready to bolt out the door at any moment. The power was back. Natalie waited for his return. Sludge in hand. Life was a shade better than shit at the moment. Borrowed wallet in hand, he frowned and finally made himself power up the account. Three messages.
He stared at the first two. Time stamp was recent. A few hours apart. A pit formed in his stomach. Mom and dad. They were trying to get ahold of him despite what Jensen must have shared. A tightness curled its way into his chest. They must have found Cayli by now. Her bloodied, dirty body would be bathed and dressed for a casket. Maybe they would fix her hair the way she liked it. Or used to when she was little. She was girly. Hopefully she had something with those pink satin cushions on the inside.
Heat rimmed his eyes and he deleted both messages without responding. Meantime, he conjured up a sarcastic response to Nox, briefly wondering how the arm was blown off. The tightness in his chest was about to ease when gunshots blared from the kitchen.
He jumped to his feet, power aimed to decimate the building, when he realized the cursing of cooks yelling at each other not screams for help. Not gunshots. Just dropped pans. He swallowed, rubbing his temple and shook his head. He was too on edge. More than he liked. Not that he liked the edge of anything, let alone walking the fine line of insanity.
“Hey, is it going to be much longer?” He asked of the waitress, a woman in her fifties with more gray in her hair than black. He tried a smile to ease the rudeness of the ask, but she just shrugged and checked the window.
“Throwing meat on the grill now. Couple more minutes, sugar,” she said.
Jay should have nodded. Thanked her. Estimated the amount of time left. Something. Instead, he just stood there. Meat on the grill. He shook his head, but the words stuck in the brain. The smell of it filled the diner, and his mouth went dry. Smoke curled on the air, but breaths came short and painful. He couldn’t breathe. It burned in the throat. He wrapped his arms around himself, palms rubbing the skin he could still smell sizzling under Placaso’s pincers.
The last thing he saw was the diner door blowing off its hinges as he ran through it. When he returned to the hotel room, he was covered in sweat, but not from exertion. Shaking wracked his whole body as he slumped to the carpet and buried his head between his knees. The door was closed and locked behind him. Meat on the grill. Meat on the grill. He wasn’t sure if he was saying it out loud, or if the thoughts in his head were for his own personal enjoyment.
Worst of all. He didn’t get the food.
Only darkness shows you the light.