Into the Shadows (8 page)

I felt the chances of Sarah and I walking
away get thinner. "Look, man, we really don't want to be your
problem. We can pay you for the fine work you've done on the tires,
and then we'll call it a night, okay?"

The teens laughed, hopefully at my little
joke. I stepped in front of Sarah and said over my shoulder for her
to get back near the doors.

"Nah, man," the Latino said with a chuckle,
"the air pressure checks are on the house. But the 'fine work' we
done don't really solve our problem. You understand?"

"Alright, you've got a problem. How can I
help you fix it?" I noticed a couple of them had gun butts sticking
out of their pants. Shit.

"You can help us by walkin', man," the Latino
said as he put his knife into an inner pocket of his Kansas City
Chiefs coat. "We don't got no problem with you. In fact, we like
you, man, so you can go get that taxi. We just got a little problem
with your bitch."

I wanted to turn and ask Sarah if she knew
those fuck-heads, but I would have been distracting myself. "Sorry,
guys," I said with a sigh, "then you've got a problem with me,
too."

"Aw, look at that," the Latino said with a
wide smile to the others, "our boy's all noble an' shit! See,
that's cool an' all, man, but we're gonna fix our little problem
one way or the other, you got it?"

"Yeah, I got it." I turned my head and yelled
over my shoulder, "Get back inside!" I heard the doors hiss as the
four teens moved slowly toward me. I pulled my Ruger out of my
pocket and aimed it at the closest guy, the one on my left. They
all stopped.

"Aw, man, you just made things difficult for
me," the Latino said. "That bitch had something I wanted, and I
ain't talkin' pussy, man." He slowly put a hand into his front
pocket. I swiveled my gun to the right, pointing in his general
direction. He put up his other hand as if to tell me he wasn't
pulling a weapon. "Now you owe me, man. And I wanna hear you say
it. Say, 'I owe Pedro', loud n' clear."

"Fine, I owe Pedro."

Pedro pulled his hand out of his pocket. He
didn't have a gun - he had a fucking grenade. Where the hell does a
punk kid get a grenade from? The other three backed up as I tried
to focus my aim on Pedro's forearm. In the blink of an eye, he
pulled the pin and tossed it at me. Damn, he was fast. I let off a
round, probably hitting him but not sure where, and then ran and
dove for cover behind a car to my left.

The grenade was a smoker. I swung over the
trunk of a car and aimed. Even through the smoke I could see the
four fuck-heads halfway down the garage lane and still running, way
out of range for my gun. I stayed low to keep the smoke out of my
eyes and went over to the double doors. I tapped on one of them and
yelled, "All clear". A second later, the doors hissed open and I
hurried inside, telling Sarah to shut the doors so none of the
lingering smoke could roll in. What a shitty night.

NERVOUS

"What was that all about?" Sarah asked
me.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. Do
you know those guys?"

"Shit, no! Why would I have anything to do
with a gang?"

"I don't know why, because I don't know you,
Sarah. All I
do
know is that they were looking for you."

"I haven't done anything to piss anyone off,
Leo. Honest," she said as she put her hands on my forearm.

I gently pulled away and looked out the
doors, even though I couldn't see anything. "I think they had
something to do with that power flicker. Maybe they cut a main
camera feed line, I don't know. Did you want to call the cops, or
at least alert building security?"

"I'll make a call in a minute. I just want to
make sure you don't view me or the company in a poor light because
of this. It's just bad timing or bad coincidence . . . bad
something. This is a really good place to work, I promise." I
didn't answer, so she took a different tact. "Would you like to go
see your loft?"

"Do you think it's safe?" I asked
sarcastically. "Hell, Sarah, with the way things are going tonight,
I don't want to risk it. I can look at the place some other time. I
don't really want to move out of my house, anyway. I like it
there."

"Oh, I'm sure they could work something out,"
she said, moving closer to me. "Come on, I'll get us a cab,
alright?" She led me back to the elevators, up to the 36th floor
again, over to a different set of elevators, and took one down to
the main lobby. How fucking tedious. I hardly said a word the whole
time. She stepped away to make some calls while I told the guard at
the front desk about what happened. Yep, the security feeds were
cut; not bad for some punks.

Sarah came back over to me, smiling
nervously. "A cab should be here soon," she said.

I led her away from the security desk and
over to the glass front doors. "Sarah, you're nice, and you're fun,
but I'll ask for someone else to show me the loft, if I even want
to see it."

"What? Why?" she asked fretfully.

"Don't worry; I'll say you were great - and
you were, really - so you don't have to worry about getting in
trouble or losing your job or anything. No offense, but it's just
that now I think you're bad luck." She had a look of shock and real
worry; she opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. "I
think I'll just walk home, it's not too far. Good night,
Sarah."

I hurried out of the door and away from the
building. Once I was around a corner, I called my neighbor Hector
and asked for a ride. Walk home over eight miles when it's below
freezing? Screw that.

WAKES

It had snowed a few inches overnight, so I
went over and shoveled Hector's driveway in the morning to repay
his favor. Then I did the same for Miss Loretta's driveway and
sidewalk, just so I wouldn't worry about her. While I shoveled, I
thought about the two wakes I was going to attend that evening.
Craig's was earlier than Dan's, so I could get to both. It wasn't
like I wanted to go, though. It was a crappy way to spend an
evening, and I didn't want to dwell on it.

I went inside and made the call to Ms.
Rondeau that I promised Sarah I would. I gave her praise and said
that she wasn't responsible for the security breach. I'm not sure
how true that was, but I said it anyway. Then I was asked if I'd
made any decision concerning Realm Management. I explained that I
had some personal matters to attend to for the next couple of days
(wakes and funerals) and I'd have an answer afterwards. If they
were too corporate to sympathize, well then, too damn bad.

The rest of the day was spent just on me.
Sounds selfish, right? So what - I felt I'd earned it. And no, I
didn't go get a pedicure or scarf down a box of bonbons. I worked
out in my basement, had a couple drinks, did some shooting at the
gun range, had a couple drinks, trained on padded dummies at the
dojo, had a couple drinks, and then went for a haircut. I ruined my
work out by eating fast food for dinner. Then I reluctantly got
ready to go to the wakes. Throughout the whole day, though, I
wondered why I kept having dreams of some mysterious hot blonde I'd
never met.

Both wakes were depressing, as you might
expect. Nearly all of the Silas employees showed up to them. I knew
from talking to Diego on the phone that he was still healing up and
couldn't be there. John Crane pressed me about my other job offer
and tried to sweeten my employment with him in little ways. I
wasn't in the mood to deal with him.

Also making an appearance at both wakes was
Stanley Everett, his wife, and the two other couples that survived
his dinner party. They all shook my hand, as well as Cordell's.
Everett again stated his offer of assistance if I needed anything.
I pulled him aside, telling him of the offer from Realm Management.
I told him that his name was mentioned during a meeting. Since he
had dealings with the company, I wanted his perspective before I
made my decision to join them.

Everett frowned with a troubled look. He
pointed out that his work with them was purely financial; my
intended position was much more hands-on, so few comparisons could
be made. His company had recently cut ties with some divisions of
Realm's operations, so his current view wasn't favorable. Everett
also suspected that I might be used by them for 'clandestine'
tasks.

Okay, not a ringing endorsement. I wanted
Gwen's reaction, so I found her in the crowd at Craig's wake. We
sat on a bench in the foyer of the funeral home. I sipped from my
flask while she cleaned spots from her large, round eyeglasses. I
saw a mole on her chin that I'd never noticed before, but obviously
didn't mention it. Other than to dress professionally, Gwen didn't
care what others thought of her appearance.

I quietly repeated Everett's information and
opinions, and asked if there was anything else she could add to it.
"From a rumor I heard," Gwen commented as she wiped at her thick
glasses with a napkin, "a major division within Realm had some sort
of falling out with Everett Financial after some other low-key
investor got involved. There's a whisper that whoever that Realm
division leader was, they hired mercs from out of town to hit
Everett. I don't know if that story holds water, though."

"A hit squad, over business deals going sour?
Sounds like overkill to me."

"Yeah, petty to the nth, right?" she said
with her strange smirk. "Like a child queen who yells 'Off with
their heads' to anyone who looks at her wrong."

I held off taking another sip to grin at her.
"I bet you like those kinds of stories."

"What can I say," Gwen said with a shrug,
"I'm a romantic."

I chuckled at her odd sense of humor and then
took a drink. We sat for a few seconds in silence before I
commented, "Working for Realm is sounding less and less
appealing."

"Unless you're only interested in money," she
said casually. "I'm sure they pay well and offer lots of perks. In
the opinion of certain circles, though, the company is morally
gray." She frowned at me. "Or is it ethically gray? Oh well, either
way, they're gray."

"Hell, Gwen, you're morally gray."

She shrugged and put her glasses on. "True,
but my priorities are different. I couldn't care less about money
and power like Realm does. I care about certain things, and
everything else doesn't matter."

"Oh really," I said as she stood up. "And
what are those certain things?"

"A girl doesn't reveal all her secrets,
dummy," Gwen replied while she smoothed her pantsuit. "Don't worry,
Leo; I have a list, and you and a few others are somewhere on it.
But I'll warn you: your name will get moved if we stop having our
fun little chats."

"Yes, ma'am," I said with a grin.

"Good. Now, I'm going to go find Crane and
see if I can make him cry."

UNINVITED

The next morning's weather matched the mood
of Dan's funeral - gloomy and subdued. The timing of his and
Craig's burials were too close together, so I couldn't attend both.
I knew Dan longer, so, there ya go. I got home and felt numb, like
I did after military funerals. I didn't even want a drink.

Since it was a Friday, but right about the
time people with regular jobs went to lunch, I decided it was the
best time to call Dominique Rondeau and politely decline her job
offer. A little while later, Keegan called; he knew I just went to
the services of a couple guys I knew from my other job. Since there
was a band that weekend, he'd have steroid Mac at the door and he'd
bar-back. Everything was covered, so I had the weekend off and he'd
see me the week after unless I decided to stop in for a drink. I
couldn't have asked for a much nicer boss, which made me feel
better for following my instincts about Realm.

I turned my phone off and took a nap. I felt
lazy when I woke up, and puttered around the house in just sweats
and an old USMC t-shirt. I did a little cleaning with the ol'
Pledge, made myself a simple dinner, and zoned out on crappy TV
shows while nursing a strong drink. Just before the ten o'clock
news came on, I was jolted out of my haze by a knock on my front
door. My first thought was of Hector or Miss Loretta when I jumped
up to answer it.

When I pulled my door open, I immediately
realized it wasn't one of my neighbors. Holding my screen door open
was a young woman; I shifted so that the lamp light from behind me
fell on her face.

"Hi there," she said happily with a smile. "I
do remember saying that we might meet again."

A little shorter than average, wavy brunette
hair, very pretty, lots of cleavage - it was the hottie from the
bar I helped out a couple weeks before. "Hey, I remember you.
You're . . . uh . . ."

"Macie, I'm Macie. Really, Leo, I thought I'd
left more of an
impression
!" On that last word, she suddenly
thrust both of her palms into my chest, and I literally went flying
backwards. I landed hard on my back, between my polished coffee
table and my old TV. I wasn't expecting an attack, let alone one
from a girl who was strong enough to launch me halfway through my
living room. I was stunned, more from her strength than anything
else.

As I was trying to sit up, Macie stepped
inside. Immediately after her were two guys in black coats with the
Realm logo on them; they moved past her and moved to either side of
the room. Both had taser guns. My attention was brought back to my
front door, where another guy in slacks and a sweater came in like
he was an honored guest. It was the pissed off pretty boy from the
upscale bar, except he didn't look very pretty anymore. One side of
his face looked like it was pressed against an electric stove
burner while it was hot; there was a pattern of charred,
half-circle burns from cheek to forehead. Ouch.

Macie shut the front door behind her and
leaned against it. The taser guys stayed where they were. The
formerly-pretty boy took a few steps toward me, looking royally
pissed. My little Ruger was on the end table behind me and to my
right, next to my phone and the only lit lamp in the room. My other
guns were back in my bedroom. The only other weapons were knives in
the kitchen back behind me. The tasers pointed at me would've lit
me up before I could get off my ass anyway, so I was screwed.