Running in the Dark by Regan Summers

intimated that it seemed like he was having a shitty night. But he wasn’t paying attention to me. He peered at the overgrown lot adjacent to his. I glanced in the same direction, not surprised when I didn’t see anything in the darkness. Then a wave of jittery cold rolled against me. I shivered.
    “ Buenas noches, Señorita Crane,” Thurston said tightly. I couldn’t blame him for his tension. The lot felt as though a whole crop of vampires had just sprung up from the ground.
    “ Hasta luego, Thurston.” I dropped into the car, slipping the pepper spray into my bag and tossing it onto the seat beside me. The car whined as I backed up, and grumbled as I wrestled the shifter into first gear.
    I turned left two blocks away and stopped, unable to see much between the poor, unevenly spaced streetlights and fat raindrops. The van didn’t leave. I didn’t hear any signs of an altercation with the new kids. Maybe Thurston just didn’t like visitors. Thunder roared through the low clouds, and the atmosphere charged as the storm drew closer. My watch kept ticking, and after twenty minutes I let the clutch up and eased forward. The job was more important than my curiosity, but this would be topic number one with Mal tomorrow.
    The windshield wipers worked, which was a minor miracle as the sky opened up on my way back to Carla’s. The run had actually been pleasant. I hadn’t gotten lost, had explored a couple of alternate routes, and a few of the vampires had spoken to me as though I hadn’t just washed up out of the filthy Mapocho River. Plus nobody had vomited hot blood near me. I’d count that a win.
    I left the Tercel idling out front, not wanting to drive it into the garage since I couldn’t turn it off, and handed my slips over to Carla. The other bays were still empty, Jace with her loaded schedule and Tilde struggling.
    “How’s McHenry these days?” Carla asked. My old boss’s youthful moon face swam up from the depths of my memory and I fought down a smile.
    “What’s that, an Irish pub?” I forced myself to appear interested—curious but not intrigued.
    Carla studied me for a moment before slowly smiling. “He owns a shop up in Alaska. I didn’t think you were from there, showing up with that tan.”
    “Okaaaaay.” I raised my eyebrows as if wondering where she was going with this. I didn’t like this sudden interest in my origin. After my test run, she hadn’t asked me a single direct question about where I was from or how I knew the rules of the game. She threw her arms up in exasperation.
    “I’m curious. The girls are curious. It didn’t take long to realize you’ve done this before. But not in the States, and not in Scandinavia. I voted New Zealand. Unless you were running for the Russians. You weren’t, were you?”
    Running from the Russians, more like. I smiled sweetly and she winced. Ah, yes, the makeup. Coupled with the rain, I probably looked more sinister than sweet. “Now, Carla. A girl doesn’t drive and tell.”
    “Very well. Keep your secrets.” Her eyes gleamed, and I wasn’t sure I liked that any more than her prying. “I had good news tonight on a new contract, a big one. I will need you for this, if you can handle it.” Her tone couldn’t have been more condescending, which irked me. She didn’t need to butter me up, but she could at least acknowledge my competence.
    “I would love to make you a ton of money, but right now I have to take this piece of shit car across town to be gutted and rehabilitated.”
    “It’s not so bad.”
    “It’s all that bad.” I backed toward the door, winking before I left. And then all levity fell away.
    My world was too small, and it was as if I could feel the walls closing in. I wasn’t going to be able to hide forever. The engine raced for a few seconds before I put the car in gear. I was fine for the moment. She could speculate away. Malcolm had said that he would find and kill Richard Abel. Then I could go wherever I