Page 27 of Wrecked

Crow walked through the night, following the slender figure from the massive estate of Jimmy Lincoln.

The druggies from the house had been very forthcoming about Lincoln’s address. Crow had staked out the man’s Hollywood Hills home for two days before he caught sight of Rebel leaving the property.

The young man took a bus into downtown Los Angeles and Crow tailed the bus in his SUV.

It wasn’t easy keeping up with Rebel on the city streets, but he managed to follow the kid with his vehicle until he finally found a place to park. Crow shoved a card in the parking meter and tore off down the street to catch up. He stayed as close as he could without spooking him.

Even though it was night in L.A., the sidewalks were still busy, so it was easy at first to blend in. After a while, it became harder the farther Rebel walked from the main boulevard and into a residential area.

Fewer and fewer people were outside in this neighborhood, and several times, Crow had to duck into shadows to escape Rebel’s detection.

Here the street lights were bright, offering some protection for homes, and everywhere Crow turned there was a lighted area that had the propensity to give him away.

Crow had to think quickly and move to stay hidden as he followed the young assassin.

When Rebel reached the end of the block and crossed another street, Crow waited down from the light and when Rebel reached the other side and walked quickly down an adjacent street, Crow followed. He caught up with Rebel on a street lined with old homes.

Crow frowned when Rebel shot out the street lights as he went and then suddenly slid between two of the houses and disappeared.

Where the hell was he going?

Slipping between the two older homes wasn’t easy because a six-foot wooden fence blocked getting into the backyard and Crow would bet money that Rebel had jumped it.

Crow took a running leap at the fence, made it to the top, and dipped over the other side. Landing lightly on his feet, he paused to get his bearings.

The side of the yard butted up against a screened-in back porch. The house itself was old and shabby with peeling paint and a tiled roof in need of repair. The weeds and grass grew knee-high in the back.

Slipping silently down the side of the home and closer to the back porch, Crow saw nothing.

No Rebel.

Shit, he’d lost him. After weeks of searching, he’d fucking lost him.

On the heels of that thought, a sound came from the back door to the home.

Crow took the short steps up, eased open the door to the screened-in porch, and made it to the back door to find Rebel standing just inside a brightly lit kitchen.

Crow waited.

The young man held a small handgun in his hand and was pointing it at a woman with gray hair wearing a flowered shift.

“Please.” The woman’s voice wobbled. “I’m just a little short, that’s all.”

“You’ve been short for weeks,” Rebel said and moved the gun to point it at someone or something outside of Crow’s view.

“Times are hard.” She lifted the front of her dress and sobbed into the material.

Crow had heard enough. He stepped inside and closed the back door.

Rebel’s eyes flew toward the sound and his gun came around, pointing right at him.

“Is this what Lincoln has you doing?” Crow growled.

Rebel’s eyes widened, his teeth clenched, and a muscle suddenly ticked in the man’s jaw. Dark eyes glared at him as if he were the last person on earth he wanted to see.

Well, Crow didn’t give a shit and waved a hand at the couple. “This right here? Isn’t happening.”

“Mind your own business.”

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