“And if she knows of anyone who had motive to kill her son.” Jazz’s mouth straightened into a more serious line as her tone firmed.
“Good idea.” A niggling sense of something wrong tingled at the back of his neck like a warning. “But, Jazz, do be careful. Nothing at the cult is what it seems. And you could be about to rattle the cage of a killer.”
Twenty-One
Phoenix was back. The boss made her entrance like usual, her sandy colored K-9, Dagian, sticking to her side as she crossed the breakroom at PK-9 headquarters without smiles or hellos for anyone.
“Welcome back.” Cora greeted Phoenix as the boss sat in her favorite armchair, the chair no one else ever used because they knew it was hers.
Phoenix seemed to give a hint of a nod, the bill of her charcoal baseball cap tilting slightly. “What do we know about the hitmen?”
Jazz glanced at Nevaeh, who gave her a small smile. Probably because Phoenix was bringing up the threat on Jazz, despite her claim the boss didn’t care.
Jazz had to admit, she was surprised that would be Phoenix’s priority first thing out of the gate. But maybe it was an intentional misdirect. What better way to avoid questions about where she’d been for two weeks?
Lines crossed Cora’s forehead as she looked at Jazz. “I’ve been able to keep Phoenix up to date on everything that’s been happening with the attempts on your life. Very impressive work in capturing the two men.”
“Thanks.” Jazz shot Phoenix a glance, but the woman’s expression was unreadable, as always. Especially under the shadow cast by her cap. Would’ve been nice to hear the praise from her, but Jazz appreciated Cora’s effort.
“The two men have been identified as a Calvin Crieg and Marty Jenson.” Cora switched her focus to Phoenix as she continued. “They both have felony records for assault and armed robbery.”
“And yet they’re running around loose on our streets.” Bris, sitting in the other armchair across the room, pushed out her lips with an exasperated widening of her eyes.
Toby sat up next to her knee and looked at his handler with his tongue dangling as if trying to understand what she meant.
“Gotta love our penal system.” Sofia voiced the sarcastic thought as she smoothed her hand along Gaston’s ear.
The chocolate Newfoundland water rescue dog sprawled on the sofa with his head resting on Sof’s lap and his body hogging most of the other cushions.
Slim Cora had managed to squeeze in next to his tail to sit on the remaining half of the end cushion. “The men sadly are not admitting guilt or giving any indication of having been hired by anyone.” Apology filled Cora’s tone as she looked at Jazz.
“Good thing we don’t need their confirmation.” Sof’s remark drew everyone’s attention to her. “Ramone told me he heard Crieg and Jenson were hired for a hit. They’ve apparently done low-level hits before. They aren’t as expensive as some and tend to be very available on short notice.”
Helpful Sof had a source in the local criminal underworld. Ramone, a former arms dealer, had assisted PK-9 more than once with his intel.
“So the creep who hired them isn’t in the know himself?” Nev asked the question from the cushion next to Jazz on the love seat. “Like, he’s not a crook?”
“Possibly.” Sof pushed the fingers of one hand into her gorgeous black waves of hair. “Crieg and Jenson would probably be easy to find through a source with minimal connections to the criminal network here. Ramone said he didn’t know who the mark is or who hired them.”
“At least we have confirmation there really is a hit out on Jazz.” Bris leaned forward to grab her mug off the coffee table in front of her.
“Or was a hit.” Their attention landed on Jazz as she spoke. “I figured it’s probably over with now. I mean, I put the hitmen behind bars.” She smiled slightly, trying for casual and confident. “That should make the joker who thinks he can kill me give up.”
“Or she.” Even Nev’s lowered eyebrows said she wasn’t convinced by Jazz’s pitch.
“Okay.” Jazz shrugged a shoulder as she lifted her coffee mug to her mouth. “Or she.”
“If someone went to all the trouble to find hired killers and pay them to kill you,” Bris leveled a serious stare at Jazz, “that person isn’t going to quit until you’re dead.”
Leave it to Bris not to sugarcoat it.
“Good point.” Nev touched Jazz’s arm as she looked at her. “It’s better to play it safe.”
Easy enough for them to say. They weren’t the ones having to deal with the fact that someone hated them enough to want them dead. But she should be used to it by now. Being disliked was life as usual for her.
Flash shifted against Jazz’s ankle, taking some of the weight off his front leg where it lay across her feet.
So what if the surprise attacks weren’t over? So what if someone wanted her dead? She and Flash could handle anyone. “Okay. So where do we go from here?”