“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
She hesitated before answering. “Not yet. But you know me, if I start to stir the pot, it might not end well. Leave, Martin at least until things settle down. You have a valid excuse, use it.”
There was no way to know if he’d soften to her plea, but there wasn’t much more she could do. Getting to her feet, desperate for fresh air, she turned one more time to the young man. “If I was to look for who scored the Phantom distribution contract in Chicago, who should I be looking for?” She knew she was pushing hard. There were other contacts she could use, but the last thing she wanted was to head into danger completely blind if she could help it.
Freckles was looking more and more lost. “You’re mad looking into this. I’m sure you’re not paid enough to risk your life for it either.”
A Pulitzer as a prize would be worth a lot of risks but helping to stop the plague from damaging her home was a stronger pull for sure. “We do what we have to do. Take care, Martin.” Leaving her half-finished beer on the table, she moved to the door and had the knob in her hand when Freckles scrambled to his feet.
“Wait.” After a few curses and scrubbing his face several times, he looked at her. “I know Damon Evans was involved. You know he’s an MC president, right? I don’t know how he’s involved, but his name came up one night. I won’t tell you where and when, but he’s not half bad and may have the info you’re looking for. Go now, baby, and stay safe.”
With a smile, she winked at the young man, pulled her hood over her head, and left.
The air was even colder now. She could see her breath as she exhaled. Walking to her car, the smell of gas and leather tickled her nose along with the feeling of being watched. Nothing stirred, but she wasn’t stupid enough to stay around and discover who was unexpectedly interested in her. Especially so early in her investigation. Without waiting another minute, she unlocked her car door and drove away.
There would be time to stir the demons lurking in the shadows, but now she needed the light of morning to decide how she would dance with them.
Chapter Two
“Hasyour ass been kicked enough or do you feel you can still sit on it?”
Sam Ferguson pushed away from the training mat with a snarl on his mouth and sweat burning his eyes, making damn sure not to rub said body part. His opponent may have been a friend, but he hated being the one to lose. However, Joshua Chadwick was a force to be reckoned with and was almost unbeatable in hand-to-hand combat.
With his characteristic Welsh drawl, the black-haired Brit offered him an innocent smile, but that didn’t alleviate the sting to his ego, or elsewhere. “You want another go?”
Tempted to decline, Sam nodded. Both men started circling the space, getting ready. Sam knew very well that his friend’s strength was above average. Joshua was an exceptional fighter, but Sam used other skills he knew weren’t mastered by anyone.
This time, Joshua attacked first, but Sam turned it to his advantage. The man was built like a titanium bull, but he couldn’t move fast.
Sam twisted, evading an uppercut and body-slammed his opponent. When he felt Josh losing his balance, it was easy to bring him down. Now straddling Joshua’s hips on the mat, Sam lifted his arms in victory. “Mate, you’re a tough bastard to take down.”
“Damn, boys. Looking at you reminds me of a male-on-male porn movie I watched online. All muscles and sweat, and no brain.”
Through heavy breathing, Sam helped Joshua up and winked at Sloane who had remained on the sidelines. “You know, it wouldn’t be a bad idea if you got some training in, too.”
“Fuck you, Fergie. We have more urgent matters to take care of. Lance wants to see you, well, in fact, all of us. He wants an update on what you learned following that reporter last night.”
Sam frowned as he picked up a towel. “Why on earth is Lance up and about? He’s supposed to be resting not running around worrying about us. Shit!”
He still remembered Lance fainting in his arms due to blood loss when he’d returned from a mission gone wrong. The support team had moved like lightning to reach him, and they’d all feared the worst.
Sloane shrugged. “He’s in the lounge with Melina. She’s pretty pissed having to follow him around when she’s supposed to open her clinic in an hour. She’s probably giving him an earful, but maybe adding our voices to hers would help. That’s a big maybe.”
Sam locked eyes with Joshua who shook his head. That pretty much summed up their little group. They were a band of misfits that had rallied behind a man that didn’t like taking orders either.
Sam and Joshua pulled on sweatshirts, and the three of them headed to the lounge located on the upper floor of their little hideout.
Lance was half-sitting, half-reclining on the sofa as Melina put a fresh dressing on him. “Stop squirming; you’re gonna pull the stitches. And I don’t have time to redo them,again.”
The pretty doctor appeared sweet as sugar, but Melina Gardner could be hellfire if need be. With her experience as a military doctor and field operative, her delicate frame could throw anyone off, and it was something she often used to her advantage.
“You’re the one making it feel like you’re pulling them off with your teeth!” Lance’s voice was raw and threatening, but everyone knew better.
“Shut up! If you had stayed put as I’d ordered, I wouldn’t have to put on a new bandage. Stay still; I’m almost done.”
As Melina finished up, Sam went to the kitchenette and pulled two bottles of water from the fridge and threw one at Joshua. The sitting area was in a circle and Sloane, wise woman that she was, had taken the seat farthest from the cursing patient as possible.
Sunlight was slowly making its way through the windows, shining through the first floor. Since he’d made the decision to follow Lance in his mission, they’d had trouble finding the perfect place to act as both a cover and their lair and had moved around several times before discovering this place. The ancient restaurant had been entirely redone, a full underground section, including a garage, had been added and secured. The main level housed Noctem Consulting, the fake company they’d created as a front to give them legitimacy. The upper levels held two apartments, one was at the disposal of any team member and had a couple of bedrooms, and the other was for Lance who lived mostly on the premises. Most of the team had homes in secured locations around the city, but the more options they had, the better.
