one exceptionally lucky and talented con man? Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror as I pulled wet hair back into a ponytail, I gave a snort. What the hell. It couldn’t hurt to try.
When the rattle of a key in a lock came at the door, I was more than ready to go. A concrete shoe box wasn’t my idea of plush accommodations, and I wanted out. Now. There was a chance I could be going somewhere worse, but right then, it didn’t matter. I just wanted out. Sitting at the desk, I straddled the chair, propped an elbow on the back, and rested chin in newly gloved hand. I was casual, relaxed, cool … and the walls were not closing in. Just as they had not been closing in all night. As for the door, the door that was still stubbornly closed, it would open. Any time now. The lock made a grudging, reluctant sound. Yeah, any time. Any goddamn time. The metal slab finally swung open, which was nice. Yeah, very nice. Nice that I didn’t have to get up and give it a vicious kick.
“About time.” I grunted. “You have my paper and Belgian waffles?”
The man in the doorway ignored me, replaced the keys on his belt, and jerked his head toward the hall. “Let’s go.”
It wasn’t Hector, who obviously had better things to do with his time, but the guy was military all the same. And this time, I had a uniform to back it up. Army green. Blackmailing more victims before nine A.M. than most people blackmail all day. Wouldn’t their mamas be proud? Standing, I stretched and then swiveled to reach for my duffel bag. “Leave it,” came the order. With a low forehead, a heavily acne-scarred jaw of pure granite, andthe flat black eyes of a cottonmouth, GI Joe made Hector look like a damn teddy bear.
“That mean I’ll be spending another night here in the Taj Mahal?” I asked, not bothering to hide my displeasure.
Cottonmouths aren’t like rattlers. There’s no spine-chilling sound of Satan’s castanets to warn you what’s coming your way. There’s only the bunch and flash of pure muscle before the pain of liquid lightning spreading through your screaming flesh. You might see the cold gleam of the corpse-white that lines its mouth before the fangs bury themselves in you, but often you don’t. It’s simply too goddamn fast. A human cottonmouth wasn’t much different. I’d started to turn away from my bag and back toward Hector’s replacement when the fist hit the side of my neck and jaw. It wasn’t a punch, although it had sucker written all over it. It was a clubbing blow, meant to take me down to the floor. And take me down it did.
I caught myself on my knees and managed to snag the chair with one hand. The combination of the two kept me upright, barely. I shook my head as black spots spread like oil across my vision. My left ear rang unpleasantly as the heat began to spread and my skin began to tingle and tighten. Sucking in a breath, I waited for my vision to clear. As a replacement for caffeine, this was not the morning picker-upper I was looking for, but I had no one to blame but myself. Well, okay, I could blame the subhumanpiece of shit in a uniform, too, but there was no getting around the fact that I should’ve been ready for him. Cane Lake had taught me never to turn my back on anyone, especially an employee of our beloved government. Thinking those lessons didn’t apply in the adult world was a mistake I couldn’t afford to make, not again.
“Let’s go, asshole,” was the bored echo.
I had to give him points; he was nothing if not consistent. Counting myself lucky that he hadn’t planted a boot in the small of my back while I was vulnerable, I climbed back to my feet. The dancing black blobs were dissipating almost as quickly as the burning of my face was building. That was going to be a nasty one. Cautiously, I pressed fingers to my jaw and worked it back and forth. Not broken, but chewing wasn’t going to be a friend of mine any time soon. Worse yet, the bastard was wearing gloves—Hector’s
When the rattle of a key in a lock came at the door, I was more than ready to go. A concrete shoe box wasn’t my idea of plush accommodations, and I wanted out. Now. There was a chance I could be going somewhere worse, but right then, it didn’t matter. I just wanted out. Sitting at the desk, I straddled the chair, propped an elbow on the back, and rested chin in newly gloved hand. I was casual, relaxed, cool … and the walls were not closing in. Just as they had not been closing in all night. As for the door, the door that was still stubbornly closed, it would open. Any time now. The lock made a grudging, reluctant sound. Yeah, any time. Any goddamn time. The metal slab finally swung open, which was nice. Yeah, very nice. Nice that I didn’t have to get up and give it a vicious kick.
“About time.” I grunted. “You have my paper and Belgian waffles?”
The man in the doorway ignored me, replaced the keys on his belt, and jerked his head toward the hall. “Let’s go.”
It wasn’t Hector, who obviously had better things to do with his time, but the guy was military all the same. And this time, I had a uniform to back it up. Army green. Blackmailing more victims before nine A.M. than most people blackmail all day. Wouldn’t their mamas be proud? Standing, I stretched and then swiveled to reach for my duffel bag. “Leave it,” came the order. With a low forehead, a heavily acne-scarred jaw of pure granite, andthe flat black eyes of a cottonmouth, GI Joe made Hector look like a damn teddy bear.
“That mean I’ll be spending another night here in the Taj Mahal?” I asked, not bothering to hide my displeasure.
Cottonmouths aren’t like rattlers. There’s no spine-chilling sound of Satan’s castanets to warn you what’s coming your way. There’s only the bunch and flash of pure muscle before the pain of liquid lightning spreading through your screaming flesh. You might see the cold gleam of the corpse-white that lines its mouth before the fangs bury themselves in you, but often you don’t. It’s simply too goddamn fast. A human cottonmouth wasn’t much different. I’d started to turn away from my bag and back toward Hector’s replacement when the fist hit the side of my neck and jaw. It wasn’t a punch, although it had sucker written all over it. It was a clubbing blow, meant to take me down to the floor. And take me down it did.
I caught myself on my knees and managed to snag the chair with one hand. The combination of the two kept me upright, barely. I shook my head as black spots spread like oil across my vision. My left ear rang unpleasantly as the heat began to spread and my skin began to tingle and tighten. Sucking in a breath, I waited for my vision to clear. As a replacement for caffeine, this was not the morning picker-upper I was looking for, but I had no one to blame but myself. Well, okay, I could blame the subhumanpiece of shit in a uniform, too, but there was no getting around the fact that I should’ve been ready for him. Cane Lake had taught me never to turn my back on anyone, especially an employee of our beloved government. Thinking those lessons didn’t apply in the adult world was a mistake I couldn’t afford to make, not again.
“Let’s go, asshole,” was the bored echo.
I had to give him points; he was nothing if not consistent. Counting myself lucky that he hadn’t planted a boot in the small of my back while I was vulnerable, I climbed back to my feet. The dancing black blobs were dissipating almost as quickly as the burning of my face was building. That was going to be a nasty one. Cautiously, I pressed fingers to my jaw and worked it back and forth. Not broken, but chewing wasn’t going to be a friend of mine any time soon. Worse yet, the bastard was wearing gloves—Hector’s
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