Page 22 of Fire Meets Fire

She chuckles softly. “Or get the existing ones to pan lower.”

I give her an appreciative chin lift, showing I’ve conceded her point. Though the information is useful, I doubt we’ll have many more thieves like her turning up. Not ones who aren’t deterred by the Wretched Soulz logo above the door that is.

I analyse her face, and while I want to try to find out who’s after her, Bull is right. If it’s the feds, we’ll have to think carefully about helping her. But if it’s not? Well, a promise of our assistance to get whoever it is off her back might tempt her to stay around longer. Just to help us make our ship watertight, of course.

“Any other observations on our security?”

Her eyes sparkle. “Any sign of that five hundred dollars?”

Chuckling, I open the desk drawer and unlock the cash box, taking a wad of bills out. After counting them, I slide them across the table to her. Without checking the amount, she slides the money into her pocket. For a moment, I expect her to bargain for more before she shares her info, but no, she starts to speak.

“Your locks are standard, and you need better ones,” she begins, and then goes on to list a few other observations she’s made. She’s got a few good points and I notice small raises and dips of Bull’s head, showing he’s mentally noting them.

With the money in her pocket and our obvious acceptance there are things we could improve, I see her settle back in her chair, crossing her legs but unfolding her arms. She looks more at ease than I’ve so far seen her, so it’s now I can start.

“Who’s after you?” My lazily toned and out-of-the-blue question will hopefully catch her off guard.

It doesn’t work. Her back straightens again and she shrugs.

“Woman, you speak to us, we might be able to help,” Bull states gruffly from behind her.

Still no response, just a hardening of her eyes.

“Is it one of the alphabet agencies?” I probe.

That gets her brow furrowing, and she gives a rapid shake of her head with a dismissive smile. “Definitely not.”

I hear Bull’s audible exhale, and my heart rate eases as well. If no one in authority is after her, it’s more likely there’s an ex who we can take on.

“Who is it, then?” Bull, having been reassured, asks gently. He comes around to the side of the desk, leaning forward and placing down his forearms.

It’s him she looks at. “I’m not being obtuse. I don’t exactly know who’s after me.” The words are softly spoken, and she grimaces after they’ve come out of her mouth.

Bull’s eyes flick to mine, then back to her. “But someone is? Someone you know with the resources to find you?”

I don’t mind her attention turned away from me as it seems she’s responding to Bull more than myself. Any jealousy I’ll deal with later, but for now, I want to know what we’re dealing with. Yeah, we. She’s got my help whether or not she wants it. Why? I’ll analyse later.

She might be watching the VP, but she’s not answering. Bull pushes again. “If you don’t know who, what makes you think anyone has it in for you? Must be pretty serious if you’re living off the grid.” He pauses, swallows, then notes, “You must have aveteran’s pension, yet you’re hurting for just a few bucks. You’ve already told us you think this phantom person has resources, so surely you have some clue, if they do exist, who it is.”

A few moments pass and I don’t think she’s going to answer. When she does, she doesn’t use words. Instead, she pulls down one side of her t-shirt. I hear Bull’s gasp first until she turns herself around, presenting me with the shocking image of her left shoulder. It’s a mass of healing tissue, no longer red and raw, but showing enough to let me know how painful the original injury was. I hiss in air through my teeth and Bull does much the same.

“Blowtorch,” she explains undramatically.

“In your job?”

She snorts softly. “I wish it was. No, this is just a taste of what he, they, want to do to me. I got away. This time.”

Moving away from his sentry post, Bull stands, props his ass against it and faces her. “Why use a blowtorch?”

Her voice sounds monotone, but fire sparks in her eyes. “To remove my Night Stalker tattoo.”

I can’t help my breath exhaling on a hiss. Sure, we remove the tats of traitors, and I’ve seen how painful that is, but more than the physical torture, for us, it’s the tangible loss of brotherhood. Like our, luckily few, turncoat members, she’s lost her badge of honour, something that she fought to earn and reflects what she is.

Bull, likewise, looks shocked, but it’s him who recoups first. “If you don’t know who, then surely you’ve got some reason of why?”

Suddenly finding her hands interesting, she stares at them lying in her lap. I notice they’re twisting together, the only outward sign she’s agitated. “It’s classified,” she says softly.

Leaning back in my chair, I first fold my arms, then exchange a glance with my VP. “A mission or op?”

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