Al-Hamid hated guard duty, especially on sweltering days like this one. The sun hung overhead, bloated and swollen and angry, beating down on the back of his neck and the top of his head without even the hint of a breeze to relieve him. He thought about taking off his dingy blue button-down shirt, but Omar had insisted on subtlety, and he needed it to cover the so-tight-it-pinched shoulder harness. He would have been more comfortable with his AK-47 in hand.
Mustafa was sweaty, tired, and sore, and so it was with no small amount of annoyance that he watched the unwashed bustling through the bazaar. None of them met his stern glare, veering out of their way to avoid coming close, even though the ramshackle building he guarded served as a watering hole.
They rousted out the lot of them some twenty minutes earlier for the meeting with the American negotiator, an appointment his employer had taken over Mustafa's strenuous objections. He knew how these things went Omar would shower the woman with luxuries in an effort to prove he was ''civilized,'' only to do something positively barbaric once he lost his temper.
As always, the mess would fall to Mustafa to mop up. He hoped Omar didn't rape this one, though he'd hardly blame him if he did negotiators rarely came equipped with such an impressive set of legs. His eyelids drooped drowsily as he awaited the inevitable explosion, so he missed the woman in the burqa until she'd nearly bowled him over.
''A thousand pardons,'' the woman breathed, her soft voice barely audible. She was tall, and he'd call her shapely despite the all-concealing garb. She kept her dark eyes low as she padded backwards, slippered feet barely drawing a whisper from the dusty ground.
Ordinarily, Mustafa might have left well enough alone, but his thoughts drifted to visions of the American woman's skirt, and his lips pulled into a vulpine smirk one step removed from a snarl. ''Hold a moment,'' he rumbled.
The woman paused in the mouth of the alleyway, one slender, long-fingered hand barely touching the building. ''Sir?'' she demurred, dark brows climbing. ''I must get back. My family...''
Quick, stalking strides carried Al-Hamid from the stoop to her side, and he made sure to loom. ''I told you to hold.''
The woman bowed her head gracefully, a touch deeper than she truly needed to. ''Of course, sir. A thousand pardons once again. I trust I did not mar your fine clothing with my clumsiness.''
''Are you mocking me?'' Dark brows gathered over his eyes, like storm clouds threatening rain.
''No, sir!'' The woman shook her head fervently. ''I would never!''
''I know my 'fine clothing' may not be what you are used to, but''
''I promise you I meant no offense.'' Only then did she lift her hazelnut brown eyes, looking up through dark lashes. ''My own husband works outside. I am not unused to the sweat of hard labor.''
Mustafa stepped uncomfortably close, wedging the woman against the corner of the building. ''I am offended,'' he purred, leering. ''I am offended that such a lovely creature is swathed in a burqa.''
''Sir,'' she pleaded, ducking her chin, the word drawn out. ''This is not proper.'' The woman twisted from his grasp, hurried steps carrying her into the long shadows of the alley.
Al-Hamid gave chase, blocking her path with one arm. ''I did not say you could leave.''
''But my husband''
One grubby hand clasped to her hip, and he leaned close. ''If you are good, I will not punish him for it.''
The woman sagged against him, resting her head against his shoulder, as if in acceptance. Her hands touched his. ''Fine,'' she whispered. The word was harsher than he expected, almost spat. When she lifted her eyes to meet his, there weren't the tears he desired, just a blank, dead-eyed stare.
Then she reared back, driving her forehead into the bridge of his nose. Mustafa stumbled back a stride, and the woman peeled his hand from her hip. A sharp jerk broke his wrist, and the woman whirled in a flutter of fabric, ducking under a clumsy lunge. Her foot lashed out against the side of the knee as she passed, but her expression didn't even flicker, frozen in concentration.
Al-Hamid crumpled, his cry muffled by her hand, her forearm snug against his throat. The movement bared her arm to the elbow; the rich, coffee brown tint to her skin faded along her arm to its natural, porcelain pigment.
''This is Pierce,'' she whispered. ''I've been blown. Abort. Repeat: abort.'' Alex wrapped her legs around Mustafa's ribcage, using her own weight to increase the pressure of the chokehold.
''Negative,'' the voice in her ear said. ''Everything inside is still on pace.''
She ducked her head, keeping her face from the reach of flailing hands. ''And what happens when the goon doesn't answer his call?'' she growled, holding on doggedly until Mustafa's eyes rolled back into his head. ''I am ending this now.''
She eased the unconscious man into a lazy sprawl against the side of the building, unclipping a drab, olive green canister from his belt. She put her back against the wall, taking a long breath as she wrenched the pin loose. ''Three seconds,'' she said, tossing the smoke grenade into the room.
The hollow whump was muffled by the thick curtains. This was the part she missed the most; there was nothing quite like leaping into the unknown. She remembered the floorplan only vaguely, and she knew Omar had another man in there with him a guard armed with a submachine gun. That was it. Everything else was instinct and happenstance. It was why she liked wrestling so much it forced her to stop planning and start doing.
With a fierce grin, the Spider launched herself through the window, diving into a roll across the hardwood floor. She came up to a crouch, skirting the edge of the rapidly expanding cloud, and swept her gaze across the room. She had only seconds before the smoke overtook her, but that was more than enough time to pick out the bulky silhouette. The man (Alex couldn't remember his name) frantically turned in place, searching for a target.
Pierce plucked a saucer from a nearby table, winging it across the room to shatter against the makeshift bar. The guard spun nearly all the way around, squeezing the trigger furiously. Dimly, she was aware that nearly half a clip thudded into the wood, but she was moving before he'd finished firing. Shoulder leading, Alex collided with the back of the man's thigh. As he arched back, orange muzzle flashes described a lazy arc up to the ceiling.
She stepped onto the seat of a chair, grabbing hold of the AK-47 over the soldier's shoulder, jerking it out of his grasp to bloody his lip with the stock. The guard roared, reclaiming his weapon with a sudden snatch, and he used it as a lever to whip Pierce over his shoulder. She didn't fight him on it, leaping into the pull. A mid-air twist crossed his wrists, and Alex followed through, her toes pointed. Both feet thudded into his beer belly, the impact knocking him backwards.
The guard tripped over the chair, spoiling his grip on the gun as he crashed to the ground. Alex surged forward, shifting her grip to the barrel, and she wielded it like a club, shattering teeth with the force of the blow. The man laid still, the squeak of the overhead fans the only sound in the room for a long moment, blades fighting to disperse the smoke.
''Omar, no!'' The sudden, desperate plea caught Pierce's attention, and she spun, falling into a crouch. A wide-bladed combat knife whipped overhead.
Alex surged to her feet, whipping the gun into firing position. Its barrel ended just inches from a small, dark-haired man's face. ''Drop the knife,'' she said quietly. ''I don't want to shoot you, but that doesn't mean I won't.''
The heavy-handled blade clanked against the wooden floor. Omar Nasir wasn't much to look at; he was maybe 5'8'' or 5'9'', with dead, dark eyes and slicked back hair. The Rolex on his wrist could be called nothing if not showy, and the rings and chains he wore didn't help matters. His khakis were immaculate, silk dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to give a glimpse of the forest of hair growing on his chest. Omar smiled his teeth were too straight, far too white but the expression didn't reach his eyes.
''You want to shoot me, don't you, American bitch?'' he asked pleasantly. ''You want to shoot me, but you are afraid something bad will happen if you do.'' He raised his hands, grin never flickering. ''Let me tell you something: you are right.''
''Hang on, hang on!'' The woman at Omar's side (she'd told him her name was Aisha Monroe, but he figured that was a lie) interposed herself between the Spider and her prey. She was tall taller still in four-inch heels with a head of tawny-brown hair and twinkling, hazel eyes. Her outfit walked the boundary between business professional and porn star chic; the neckline was just a little too deep, the slit up the side of her pencil skirt maybe a tad too high. ''No one is shooting anyone,'' she said, her voice a velvety purr.
Alex met the woman's gaze impassively. Aisha blinked rapidly, her hand slipping slowly behind her, just out of Pierce's sight. ''I'm sure we can all be reasonable about this,'' she said.
''We left 'reasonable' some time ago.'' The Spider flexed her fingers along the trigger, the barrel now pointed at the younger woman's Adam's apple.
''I don't think you want to kill Mr. Nasir.'' Aisha's pillowed lips, painted sun coral red, curled into a sly grin. ''If you did, he'd be dead already. His guard as well. And me, of course.'' She stepped forward slowly, one foot in front of the other, her hand still behind her back. ''In fact, I've seen nothing that says you're going to pull that trigger, so why don't we just talk it''
Omar stepped back quickly, bumping his chair hard enough to send it scraping against the hardwood floor. Pierce's eyes shifted to him, but he kept his hands raised. The moment of distraction allowed Aisha to produce a small, spring-loaded switchblade, lunging towards Alex's side.
The Spider twisted to the left, grabbing the girl's wrist and pulling her into a hard elbow to the side of the head. She stamped down hard on the brunette's instep, snapping the heel off her sandal. Unbalanced, Aisha spun in place, staggering into Omar, her eyes wide.
The AK-47 barked in Alex's hands, and Monroe stiffened in Nasir's grasp, groaning softly. Omar snapped his gaze to the redhead in the burqa as Aisha slipped through his arms, slumping to the floor. ''You didn't have to shoot her!'' he shouted. ''She was not a part of this!''
''She made herself part of this when she tried to stab me,'' Pierce said coolly, lifting the barrel again. A curl of smoke stretched up towards the sputtering fan. ''Now... you were saying something about me being right to worry?''
Omar stiffened, reaching behind him to pluck a small, feathered dart from the back of his neck. ''Who... who are you?'' he whispered, falling to his knees.
''Your worst nightmare,'' the Spider sneered, reversing her grip on the machine gun to bloody the stock again. It wasn't necessary, but it surely felt good. He tumbled in a lazy circle, knocking over his table as he fell face-first to the ground.
Alexandra Pierce surveyed her handiwork, a dark smile staining her thin lips very briefly. ''Not bad for an afternoon's work,'' she murmured.
Just not good enough not yet. This one was personal.
Eighteen days earlier Tuesday, April 27, 2010 1:04 PM
Walgreen's Pharmacy
Berkeley, CA
None of the chairs in the waiting room matched the rest; it was a hodgepodge of colors and styles, as if someone was taking in strays. The only thing they seemed to share in common was a distinct lack of comfort, and Alexandra Pierce had already rejected two before reluctantly settling into a third.
The beleaguered pharmacy technician promised they'd have the prescription out as soon as possible, but the Spider was in no real hurry. The medication itself was unimportant, just something for the nagging pain in her shoulder it was the trip itself she was looking forward to.
It was the kind of busywork she used to assign to underlings, but today was the first day she'd been on her own since they came back from Switzerland, and she needed to find a way to numb her boredom. Several heavy-handed messages from truant officers made it quite clear that Quinn couldn't miss any more school without repercussions, and Alex was feeling kind of cooped up in the condo after her ordeal.
She checked out physically, passed a barrage of tests, and didn't show any sign of lasting harm from the brief bout of captivity, but her daughter insisted, and Pierce was hard-pressed to deny Gregory anything. So she endured the constant mothering, the abysmal cooking, and the endless hours of truly god-awful television, all in the name of keeping Quinn from worrying.
Sitting alone in the waiting area, Alex would be lying if she said she didn't kind of miss it, but that was probably the loneliness talking. Amy once said that despite all the people that Alex pretended to be, she was the most lonesome person Campbell had ever known. That may well have been true, but it never used to bother Pierce she had her work to occupy it, and considered that more important than companionship. Besides, if she was feeling particularly alone, she could always have slipped into an alias, given herself a fake, doting husband, some fake children, maybe even a fake dog.
Except it wasn't as easy to pretend after she experienced the real thing and managed to cock it all up. There were days Pierce could hardly bring herself to get out of bed, days only excessive amounts of hard liquor could quiet the pain. It had been three months since she and Amy broke up surely it should be getting easier by now, right?
Not on days like today, where all she wanted was to have someone to talk to.
The Spider's stony gaze flicked through the waiting area, which was far more crowded than it should have been, owing to just one pharmacy tech on duty. Alex wondered what it would be like to just be one of the masses, numbly waiting for their dole-out of pills, unburdened by the knowledge (and the guilt by God, the guilt). She couldn't shut off that little voice in the back of her head, the one that whispered about other people's secrets.
A couple turned down the Planned Parenthood aisle. He was older than she was, hair graying along the sides as if the color pushed past the dye job. He looked back hesitantly, making sure no one was looking. Pierce decided the woman was his mistress, and perhaps that they hadn't been careful in their tryst. She imagined the eight words that would bring him to heel (''What do you think your wife would say?''), and she looked away before she caught his eye.
It was like that wherever she looked. It was like that all the time. The old woman with the persistent, wheezing cough was sicker than she let on, hiding it from her family. The mother with three children secretly loathed the oldest of them his skin tone was just slightly off from the two girls, and Alex would have wagered he was a stepchild. The pharmacy tech's hands shook as she rationed out pills; was she addicted, perhaps even stealing?
Pierce drew one leg up, heel resting against the edge of the cushion, her arms wrapped around her shin. She pressed her scowl into her kneecap; it was still hard to see them as people instead of masses of weaknesses just begging to be exploited. Her fist balled, thudding hard against her thigh. Why was it still so hard?
''Excuse me?'' The voice was light, but it was the concern the worry laced into the words that drew Pierce's attention. Her eyes must have come up too fast, as the woman took a rather large step backwards. ''Okay, I'll just leave you alone, then.''
She was a slight thing Alex wouldn't quite go so far as to call her ''plain'', but she came awfully close with straw-blond hair spilling out of the back of a green Oakland A's cap and a quizzical cast to her arresting, clear water blue eyes. The woman carried herself with a confidence that made her seem older than she probably was, hands dipping into the deep pockets of her jean shorts, turning away.
''Wait,'' Alex said quietly, her voice a good deal more hoarse than she thought, barely over a croak. The woman didn't turn back, slow steps carrying her into the drugstore proper.
Over the next few weeks, Alex would question why she followed more than she could possibly count. Was she lonely? Embarrassed? Intrigued? Suspicious? She'd never know for sure, but she still found herself on her feet, following in the other woman's wake. ''Wait,'' she repeated, a touch louder the second time.
The word drew a nervous glance over her shoulder, steps quickening. Alex forced herself to stop, to turn away. If she saw the world as a mass of weak points, surely the rest of them did, too and surely the hole in her heart shined even brighter as her Achilles heel. It's a trap, she thought. Just walk away.
So she did, returning to the waiting area and slumping in the uncomfortable chair again. She didn't return to her maudlin musings, however, and her eyes kept straying to the door. If the girl was legit, if Alex was just overreacting, if one of the hundred-hundred people she'd annoyed, threatened, or inconvenienced hadn't sent her there for some kind of twisted revenge plot, then she'd be back for her prescription.
There were altogether too many ifs in that sentence for the Spider to stomach, and she was grateful when the technician called her name. She didn't say anything as she collected the small paper bag, nodding through the instructions (one pill twice daily as needed), and numbly running her debit card through the reader. She was being stupid, paranoid she drove all the way out to Berkeley for a reason, to keep people from finding a place to strike at her. She didn't drive the same way two days in a row, she didn't call from her landline, and she'd changed pharmacies after leaving the Order of St. Julian. No way someone could find this place, figure out she was there today, and have something prepared that quickly.
No way. None.
Except that Alex had done it before, personally. She'd been the unassuming girl. She'd allayed all the suspicions. She had blood on her hands so much blood and she'd earned it from just this kind of setup.
She ducked her head, avoiding eye contact as she skirted back through the automatic sliding door. Alex kept her car keys in her pocket (always the left one); she'd seen too many escapes stalled by having to dig into a purse. She tapped the unlock button, slumping behind the wheel of her convertible.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Surely she was overreacting the girl hadn't done anything, hadn't said anything, but all of Alex's warning bells went off at the same time. Alex looked up, wiping a hand across her eyes. Maybe she just needed to get some sleep.
Her eyes narrowed the woman getting into the four-door sedan, was that the same one? The baseball cap was right, the figure was right, but there was something in the carriage that was off. She couldn't be sure it wasn't just her paranoia speaking, though. Pierce shot a glance down to the turquoise numbers on the console, frowning in consideration still more than an hour until Quinn got out of school.
The gray car backed easily out of its spot, and Alex turned away, fishing for her bag. She kept her face away from the car until it turned onto the street. Easing her convertible into gear, the Spider counted out three cars passing before she turned out onto the street. Her hands were tight against the steering wheel it was one of those moments where she knew she was doing something wrong, something she shouldn't. But she just couldn't turn away.
She tapped a button on the car console. ''Call Gary Holland,'' she said.
The man who answered was gruff, annoyed. ''Holland,'' he chirped.
Pierce's voice smoothed out, a bit of a twang slipping in to back up the words. ''Don't sound so pleased to hear from me or anythin', Gary.''
''Past history says hearing from you isn't so good for anyone. What do you need?''
The blonde's sedan pulled onto the freeway, moving further away from the city. The drive was leisurely, no sign she'd spotted her tail. The highway cut down on Alex's cover, made it harder to track the car if she rabbited. ''What makes you think I need something?'' The Spider forced a smile, but even she could hear the lie in her words.
''Because Alyssa Belle doesn't call anyone unless she has a reason. She lets them call her.''
''A dirty lie. Who could've told you that?''
''You did.'' Gary's small smile even leaked into his words. ''Now what is it?''
''I just need you to run a license plate, and not ask why.'' The sedan ahead of her moved over to the right lane, a move Pierce mimicked. ''That's all.''
''You know that just begs me to ask anyway.''
''That means you won't do it?''
''Hell, no. I owe you a favor and you know it.''
''Bravo, Charlie, Five, Echo, India, Niner, Tango.''
He repeated the number back as he wrote it down. ''Give me five minutes.''
''Text me at this number.''
''You're just saying that to avoid the questions.''
Pierce's grin slipped across her lips a knife wound. ''Pretty much.'' She tapped the button on her steering wheel to end the call as the blonde pulled off Highway 680, and Alex increased the space between them. When the sedan pulled into the long, gravel driveway of the Martinez Gun Club, Pierce continued past and around the corner. Her phone thrummed in her bag, and Alex pulled it free as she turned around.
''Car reg 2 Jennifer Ann Ramos,'' the text read. ''Ex-Army, discharged. No record.'' It was immediately followed by a second: ''Work or play?''
''Tell you when I know,'' Alex responded.
The shooting range was up a small hill, behind a copse of trees. It was a state-of-the-art building, and Pierce could hear the pop-pop of guns echoing against the stones of the mountain. She remembered places like this, places her father took her when she was young Alex fired her first shot when she was just thirteen. It brought back memories, not all of them good.
She glanced up into the rearview mirror, running her fingers through her hair. It wasn't much, but it'd have to do. Her weapon was in a locked box under her seat, and she retrieved it as she pulled up to the door. One brow crinkled as a man in a burgundy jacket stepped around the car, easing open her door. Valet parking at the shooting range yet another reason to gape at California.
The fee to enter proved reasonable, and she justified paying it with half-hearted thoughts of losing her edge and needing the practice. The clerk provided her with a pair of overlarge earmuffs, painted forest green, and she was soon ushered into the range itself.
It wasn't difficult to find the blond girl; she'd claimed a row of her own, eyes protected by gold-tinted safety goggles as she fired a simple 9mm into a distant target. She'd also earned herself a small piece of the sparse crowd, though that wasn't really a surprise simply being a girl with a gun was bound to earn her some attention.
Alex lingered nearby, her eyes on her custom, pearl-handled piece, but her ears and her mind on the blonde, accepting tips from wannabe cowboys and never-were Dirty Harries with significantly more patience than Pierce herself could probably have managed. They were starting to get rowdy when Alex set her weapon down, knitting her brows artfully as she trotted up to the lot of them. She would've killed for a pair of heels right then, but doubted anyone was really looking.
''Excuse me,'' she said, forcing her voice down, squeezing the confidence out. ''My gun's... well, it's jammed and I can't figure out where.''
If there was one thing a knot of shooters enjoyed more than a pretty girl with a gun, it was a pretty girl whose gun they could probably fix, and the innocent comment peeled off the loudest of Ramos' would-be ''advisers'', who trotted over to the nearby row to ''see what they could do.''
Alex didn't follow, lingering nearby. Her mouth was dry, and she didn't know why. The blonde slid her blue-blue eyes over to her new guest, a hook in her smile. ''Thanks,'' she said. ''Don't think they'd have let me be if you didn't step in.''
''I...'' Pierce reached up, rubbing at the back of her neck. ''I didn't really do anything. It is broken.''
''Is it?'' One honey-colored brow lifted. ''Anything they'll be able to fix?''
Alex leaned her shoulder against the protective barrier between the two rows. ''Eventually.''
Ramos' laugh bubbled from her lips, bright and surprised. ''So which is it?'' she asked. ''Did you do something or not?''
''I... may have done something. They'll fix it quickly. I just wanted to give you a breather.''
''Thanks.'' Ramos set her own weapon down, half-turning to the other woman. ''I know you, don't I? I never forget a face.''
''Walgreen's.'' Alex looked back over her shoulder; several of the men were arguing about why the pearl-handled thing wouldn't work. ''You were going to ask me a question, but I think I scared you away.''
''That's right, then you followed me down the aisle.''
''In my defense...'' Alex said, looking back. ''I was going to apologize, but you ran off.''
''In my defense,'' Ramos countered. ''You're kind of creepy.''
Pierce managed a smile. ''I've been told that, once or twice. Comes as a part of the job description.''
''Oh, really?'' Jennifer folded her arms in such a way that Alex couldn't help but notice the charm bracelet shimmering on one wrist. ''What job is that?''
Only half of Alex's smile lifted, somewhat sheepish. ''Sorry.'' She extended a hand. ''Alexandra Pierce. I'm... I'm a professional wrestler.''
''Jennifer Ramos. Jennie, please.'' Ramos took the hand gently. ''Please tell me you're screwing with me about the wrestler thing.''
''Afraid not.'' She hooked a glance over her shoulder again. ''It's not something I'd make up, because of the look you're giving me.''
''What look? There's no look.''
''There's a look.'' Alex glanced back, and she found herself smiling without consciously thinking about it. ''This is generally where people ask me if it's fake.''
''I.... can say I almost certainly wasn't wondering that.''
''Really.''
It was Ramos' turn to glance away then. ''Okay, I might have been wondering about that. Just, you know, a little.''
Silence lingered; both women were watching unabashedly now. Pierce was still smiling, just a little. Ramos finally turned towards her, one brow lifted. ''So... is it?''
''Is it what?''
''Fake.''
''A magician never reveals her secrets.'' Alex turned fully. ''You want to get out of here? Maybe get something to eat?''
''Don't you have something else to do?''
One of Pierce's shoulders lifted in a shrug. ''I was supposed to pick up my daughter''
''You have a kid? You don't look that old.''
The Spider's smile stretched a little, perhaps out of pride. ''Quinn. She's sixteen, and she's pretty great. She can make it home by herself.''
''You have a sixteen-year-old daughter? Now I know you're playing me. How come you look so young?''
''I told you...'' Alex stepped close briefly, picking up Ramos' gun. She took aim, her posture perfect, feet shoulder-width apart. She squeezed off a pair of shots, the bullets ripping through center mass of the target. ''A magician never reveals her secrets.''
Jennie stared at the target. ''I could do a late lunch,'' she muttered. ''We'll have to get your gun back, you know.''
Pierce pushed off the wall. ''Not a problem.'' She minced back to the lot of them, leaning in to reclaim her weapon. ''Thanks, fellas... guess I'm going to have it repaired.''
She proceeded back into the building, shouts of ''Hey!'' and ''Lady, wait!'' falling around her, unheeded. Jennie raced to catch up, her airy laughter drawing another smile from the Spider.
''How do you do that?'' Ramos asked, hovering over Alex's shoulder as the redhead repacked her pistol in its hard plastic case.
''Do what?'' Pierce's brows lifted.
''Be all...'' She scrunched her eyebrows up, deepening her voice. ''Serious.''
''Told you.'' Alex picked up the case.
Jennie sighed. ''I know, I know. 'A magician never reveals her secrets,' right?''
''Something like that.'' Alexandra Pierce was never a woman with a very heavy stride, but she was floating when they pushed through the doors and out to the street. ''You want to ride along or follow?''
Jennie came up short. ''Is that a convertible?''
''No, a tyrannosaurus ripped off the top, and that's all I had to replace it.''
''Oh, shut up.'' Jennie swatted her in the arm. ''If you put the top down, I'll ride along. Not like I won't know where the car is.''
''You can say that because you're wearing a cap,'' Pierce murmured, unlocking the car.
''I bet your hair looks nice messed up,'' Jennie said off-handedly, tugging open the passenger side door.
Alex put her hand to her rust-red locks, a self-conscious smile touching her lips as she followed suit.
They had tacos the real, authentic kind, not Taco Bell or any chintzy fast food. The conversation was a blur, a tumult of laughter and hurried phrases, of awkward pauses and stolen glances. Alex remembered it was fast, it was frightening, and it was furious full of words and feelings she couldn't put her finger on.
But most of all, she remembered that it was fun.
They both kept their secrets. Alex never told Jennie what else she did for a living. Jennie never told Alex she'd been a soldier it was like that part of her life never happened, like she'd sealed it all up and locked it away in a vault somewhere deep inside. Pierce knew that feeling; she lived with it every day, every waking moment, with the specter of whom and what she'd been hanging over her head.
And that was it on the first day. Just tacos and cerveza and some laughs. Alex took Jennie back to the gun club, back to her rundown, 2004 Chevy. They said their goodbyes, and exchanged phone numbers with a promise to ''hang out'' in the future. Neither of them defined the term.
By the time Pierce made it back to the Shadow Woods Homes condominiums, her daughter had been there for almost an hour. She wasn't worried they'd never see each other again Alex had disappeared before and might well disappear again, but she'd always come back.
What worried the girl was the look on her mother's face when she came through the door. What worried Quinn was the light in her mother's eyes. What worried the Devil's Daughter was the answer to the question ''Where've you been?''
''I met someone.''
It was just after four in the afternoon, and Jeopardy! was on the television. Quinn jabbed the mute button, sure she'd misheard the answer.
''What did you say?'' Gregory asked. She had to work very, very hard to make it not an accusation.
''I met someone.'' That afternoon was proof that Alexandra Pierce could blush and mean it.
''Who?''
Alex told her, and the smile didn't go fade at least from her lips.
''What about Amy?'' Quinn demanded. ''You said you'd love Amy for as long as you lived.''
''I do. I will.'' Pierce crossed to her daughter's chair, one hand resting on the back of the leather seat. ''I'm not saying that Jennie and I will be together forever. We may not even be together at all. I'm just saying that... I had fun today.''
''You're supposed to be with Amy.'' Quinn looked up to her mother, standing over her.
''We both know that isn't going to happen, hon,'' Alex said quietly. ''She's moved on. She has Jared now.''
''Fuck Jared. He's a whiny little emo fuck. He's a rebound guy, not a real thing. You need to fight, to show her''
''Quinn.''
''No, Mom.'' Gregory jerked to her feet. ''You're different now. You can be together.''
''I won't subject herself to me, not now.''
''So you're just going to give up? Move on? Find some piece of tail and lie to her about what you are?'' She jabbed a finger at her mother. ''Fuck Jared, fuck this stupid Jennie girl, and fuck you if you're going to settle instead of choosing to try.''
''Quinn''
But the girl had already stalked no, run away, rubber-soled sneakers smacking loudly against the hardwood floor. The door slammed a moment later.
Alex didn't give chase or follow after, because she knew Quinn needed the time, and because she didn't entirely disagree with her assessment.
It was nearly nine-thirty before Quinn snuck out of her room. The Devil's Daughter looked particularly girlish in her oversized Black Widow nightshirt and baggy, checkered pajama pants, her midnight-black hair unkempt and her sea-green eyes downcast. She shuffled into the front room as quietly as she could manage, skirting past her mother's encampment at the dining room table.
The Spider didn't look up from her iMac, but a small smile ghosted across her lips. Quinn made her way to the coffee maker, filling a jumbo coffee mug with steaming liquid; one thing she could always count on was a fresh pot whenever her mom was planning an all-nighter.
''Hey,'' Gregory murmured, slumping into the chair to her mother's left.
''Hi.'' Alex lifted her eyes briefly, looking over the rims of her thin reading glasses, her nimble fingers flying across the keyboard.
''Listen, I'' the girl began.
Alex reached out, her fingers briefly touching the back of her daughter's hand. ''I know.''
''I know you do, but I feel like I should say it anyway.'' Quinn curled up in the chair, tucking her long legs beneath her. ''I was pretty rude.''
''Maybe.'' One of Pierce's shoulders blurred in a shrug. ''But I understand.''
''I still feel awful. I said some pretty mean things. Not about Jared seriously, fuck that guy but about you and this girl I don't even know. Are you sure this is what you want?''
''I'm not sure about anything. If Amy said she'd take me back, I might know, but...'' Alex looked up, then away, blowing out a sigh. ''But I don't know if that's ever going to happen.''
''It will.'' Quinn dredged up a smile. ''I know it will.''
''I can't keep hoping,'' Alex whispered. ''It'll kill me. It kills me every day. I don't know if Jennie is even interested with me - I don't even know if she likes girls. But I had a good time this afternoon, and it made me realize that I have to try to move on.''
A moment of silence reverberated between mother and daughter before Quinn blew her sigh across the still-steaming coffee. ''Then I'll try to support it. As long as you're happy.''
''You should try to support Amy and Jared, too.'' Alex brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. ''Because Amy is happy.''
''Yeah, don't push it.'' Quinn leaned forward, setting her mug on a spiral-inlaid coaster. ''You know I hate to be the wet blanket, but... you're absolutely sure she's legit? Aunt Kathi and Ms. Winters still have it in for you, and they're just as good at this as you are.''
''I know they are.'' Pierce stripped off her reading glasses, rubbing hard at her eyes. ''The truth is... I don't know. She seems legitimate. There's a hell of a paper trail to back her up: yearbook photos, Facebook pages, school transcripts. If it's fake, it's the best I've seen in years. But then, if you were trying to fool me, it would kind of have to be, wouldn't it?''
''Oh, Mom...'' The teen's eyes welled with tears; moments like this were when she really understood just how desperately alone her mother truly was. ''Just try not to think about it.''
''I don't know how to stop.''
Gregory wrapped her small hands around her mom's larger one. ''Just try. If she is telling the truth, you owe yourself that much.''
Alex's thin brows curled pitiably. ''And what if she isn't?''
''If she's not, she'll have me to deal with,'' Quinn promised. ''You want to go work the bags or something, maybe blow off some steam?''
''It's almost ten.''
''Like either of us is getting to sleep anytime soon?'' The corners of the girl's lips twisted wryly. ''C'mon... you can't just sit there all night, and I want you to show me that guillotine choke sleeper thingy.''
Alex blew out a long sigh, pushing away from the table. ''All right, but don't expect me to go easy on you.''
''Wouldn't dream of it.''
It was Friday night before Alex saw Jennie again. The girl invited the Spider to tag along for her youngest cousin's twelfth birthday party, which she described as an ''epic laser tag tournament''. Pierce proved quite a hit at the party several of the boys recognized her for SCCW programming, including the birthday boy. Alex finished second in the tournament, and she had to restrain herself just to finish that low. In the end, she took a shot to the chest and went down in a heap, and the birthday boy was the conquering hero.
''That was a very nice thing you did tonight,'' Jennie said as Alex pulled through the gate to her apartment complex. ''Letting Martin vanquish the villain like that... it was sweet.''
''I didn't let him win.'' It was a lie she'd told quite often as the kids chowed down on pizza. ''Kid got the drop on me.''
''Uh-huh.'' Ramos had to suppress her smile. ''And all the chances you had to zap him earlier?''
''Maybe I got cocky.'' Alex folded her shoulders in a shrug. ''Besides, you're one to talk that didn't look like 'just a temp' out there. I think that Shannon girl you blindsided would agree with me there.''
''You saw that?'' Another burst of sudden, jovial laughter spilled from her lips. ''God, that kid sucks.'' She pointed straight ahead. ''I'm at the end. Thanks again for giving me a lift. Have I mentioned that I love that you have a convertible?''
''It's come up,'' Pierce said airily, pulling into the very last parking spot.
''So, uh... thanks for coming.'' Jennie smiled, wide and dimpled. ''The kids really loved having a bona fide celebrity there.''
''I don't know about 'celebrity,' but it was my pleasure, really. I forget sometimes that there are people who know who I am.''
''I think you earned me 'cool aunt' status for the next year or so.''
''You didn't already have that?''
Ramos half-turned, bending one knee. ''I might've had it when Marty's older brother walked in on me in the shower, but I'd much rather be 'friend of the fearsome Desade.'''
'''Fearsome' is overstating things these days.''
''Oh, come on. I Googled you,'' Jennie admitted. ''Gotta say... you looked pretty damn fearsome to me.'' Her easy smile never really quite faded. ''Is it all true?''
''Is what all true? There are an awful lot of things out there on the Internet about me.''
''That you're... uh, you know. That you're gay.''
Pierce forced her eyes away she could get lost in those eyes. She studied the shrubbery for a moment.
''I've overstepped.'' Jennie pushed open the door. ''Sorry.''
''No, it's... yeah, it's true.''
''That's... pretty great, actually.'' The blonde drummed her fingers nervously on her thigh. ''Uh... wow, I don't really know how to say this, so I'm just going to go ahead andme, too.''
''You too?''
''Me too with the gay.''
''Ah.'' It was literally all Alex could think of to say. ''I never would have guessed.'' Jennie looked away this time, catching her reflection in the rearview mirror, and Alex just pressed forward. ''Hoped, but not guessed.''
That drew those pale, ice blue back, honeyed brows lifted over them. ''Hoped?''
Alex glanced back slowly, swallowing her fear. ''Yeah. I mean... I have some... some baggage. Past relationship stuff that even the best Google-fu couldn't find. But... if you want, I'd like to give it a try. No pressure or, you know, anything like that. If you want to go, I won't stop you.''
''I have to know... were you planning on giving me a chance to answer?''
Pierce's cheeks colored and she glanced away. ''Sorry. I don't... don't generally ask people out. Makes me nervous.''
''You? Didn't I see footage of you walking the ring ropes like a tight rope and jumping into the crowd?''
''That's different.''
''Well, if you're interested, the answer is yes. But feel free to keep worrying.'' She was smiling when Alex looked back. ''It's sort of adorable.''
''Are you mocking me?''
''Yes.'' Jennie's lips twisted into a grin. ''Well, no. Teasing, maybe.'' She gestured out the window again. ''You want to come up?''
''Like you wouldn't believe.''
Maybe there was too much whiskey in the Irish coffee that Jennie whipped up for them. Maybe nerves and attraction and loneliness brought down compunctions neither of them knew they had. Maybe it was just meant to be this way. Several hours of conversation later, discarded clothes marked the path from the kitchen to the sofa, then the sofa to the bedroom.
When Amy Campbell and Alexandra Pierce were together, it was mad, passionate, reckless the bad kind of love, the best kind of love. The kind that tore a hole in your heart that nothing could ever fill, and to try would be foolish.
With Jennie, it was different. Not softer (nothing the Spider did could ever be called ''soft''), but timid, as if they were fragile ice sculptures. As if they could break each other, as if they could break in return. It was terrifying. It was invigorating. For at least a little while, Alex was able to forget who and what she was she could stop being the Spider in the Web, quiet the cries of her victims, and shut out the regret. She wasn't sure it was right, proper, or healthy, but it certainly felt good.
At least it did until she snapped awake in the middle of the night, sick to her stomach with the guilt of it. It was silly, but it felt like she'd betrayed Amy. Sure, her longtime lover had moved on, but Alex hadn't given up hope. She'd probably always carry a torch for the little redhead, and the part of her that did flooded her with shame.
The Spider had years of practice moving without being noticed she knew where to put her foot to avoid a squeaky floorboard, how quickly she could move before the thump of her strides echoed, and how to control her breathing to keep even a hiss from escaping her lips.
Alex had never been more ashamed to use her skills than she was then, hurriedly dressing by moonlight in Jennie's bedroom. She didn't prove quiet enough, however.
''Al?'' Ramos whispered, rolling over in a rustle of sheets. ''Are you leaving?''
The word Amy's word threatened to draw tears. ''Please don't call me that,'' she begged. ''I... have to go.''
''It's two twenty-six in the morning.''
''I know it is.''
Ramos sat up, blond hair mussed, the moonlight playing across bare skin quite favorably. ''Is everything all right? Your kid''
''She's fine.'' Alex forced her fingers to work, fastening the buttons of her blouse. ''It's... it's me. I thought I was ready. I'm sorry.''
''There's someone else, isn't there?''
''Yes. Well... not anymore, but, really, there is. Always will be.'' Pierce kept her back to the bed, her eyes downcast. ''I'm sorry.'' She said it again would probably keep saying it for some time.
''I hope she knows how lucky she is,'' Jennie whispered she sounded on the verge of tears herself, but Alex didn't dare look.
Pierce's chin dropped against her sternum, and she shook her head slightly. ''No, I was the lucky one,'' she murmured. ''I really am sorry about this. You don't deserve''
''I understand.'' Ramos' voice was quieter, and she'd turned away. ''If... if anything changes, or you just want to hang out or even just to talk, promise... promise me you'll call?''
Alex managed a nod. ''I will.'' She didn't know what hurt more the lie or the muffled defeat in Jennie's voice.
The long drive back to suburban Oakland passed by in a haze of tears, and Pierce never made it to her room, instead collapsing face-first onto the couch. There she still laid, her head wreathed with discarded tissues, when her daughter staggered out for coffee come morning. Quinn brushed the veil of dark red hair out of her mother's face, smiling softly before she raced out to catch the bus.
Several days later, Alexandra Pierce was in Venice at Spiaggia del Faro (erroneously listed as Spatula del Formaggio on the SCCW website) for the taping of the Temptation broadcast when her phone rang. It wasn't the first time she'd received a call during a show, but it was the first time she didn't have the thing on vibrate she'd been in such a hurry to get a piece of Miles Cavanaugh that she hadn't even thought about it.
''Excuse me, I have to take this,'' she murmured, stepping away from Mitchell Quinlan and, hopefully, from the ever-present eye of the cameras.
She settled on a stretch of hallway near the rear entrance to the building, far enough away from the swing of things that she should be guaranteed privacy.
''Pierce,'' she said finally.
''Oh, I love it when you do that!'' the voice on the other end of the phone squealed, before hurriedly adding, ''Don't hang up.''
As conversation starters went, it wasn't a terribly good one, but it was unfortunately necessary Alex recognized that voice, even in a hushed whisper, and she wouldn't have put that woman on any list of people she wanted to speak to.
''I'll need a rather compelling reason not to.'' Pierce couldn't have kept the ice from her words if she tried.
''Well.'' Drusilla Devonshire paused, and that maniacal twist of a grin ripped through her words. ''What if I told you that there were forces aligning against you, and I was looking at them right this very second?''
''I'd ask if you were looking in the mirror.''
''Oh, ouch. That stings, you know. I have feelings. Tiny little feelings. Teardrops rolling down on my face.''
The woman they called ''Malice'' was Alex Pierce's ex, and to say they'd had a contentious breakup would have been an understatement even without mentioning there were knives involved. Since the Spider used the Little Troublemaker as a vehicle to escape the bonds of the Order of St. Julian, their rivalry had cooled. While they'd only ever be friends in the same way that circling predators were, they understood each other perhaps more than any other woman understood Alex.
That didn't keep the edge out of her words; if anything, it just sharpened it. ''Enough. What do you want, Drusilla?''
''I shouldn't even be calling you, you know. The new Director... they say he's a real King Hardass about the capital-R rules.'' The eyeroll was just as audible as her grin. ''But you know how I feel about rules, and I figured someone should tell you.''
''Tell me what?'' Pierce turned into the corner, using the wall to muffle her shout. ''Stop tap dancing, Dru.''
''Your girlfriend's been taken.''
Alex froze in place, not even trusting herself to look up. ''I don't have a''
''Oh, come on. Give me some credit, Alexandra. Blond girl, pretty eyes. Ex-military, discharged but you knew all that, so can we stop with the 'Make Dru Prove It' part of the tour.''
''This is how you get your revenge against me? By kidnapping a woman I've dated twice?''
''Well, no. If I wanted revenge, I would've gutted her when she gave me directions.'' It wasn't quite matter-of-fact, too amused to be droll. ''Now comes the part where you shout something unkind about staying out of your business, and I remind you that you are my business and we move on to what to do about it.''
''Dammit, Dru, I left to get away from this.'' Her forehead rested against the wall.
Devonshire's voice was surprisingly gentle. ''I know,'' she said. ''I had to know that she was safe.''
''And is she?''
''She seems nice.'' It was the closest thing to an endorsement Alex was likely to get. ''Now... I know you're in Italy.''
''In Italy and have a match in less than an hour.''
''Oh, right!'' Again, there was the little ''mm'' sound of Devonshire's smile spreading. ''The Usual Suspects thing. You think you could maybe kick Amy in the head once for me?''
''Drusilla.''
''What? It was just a question!''
Alex sighed, a sharp sound, more frustration than annoyance. ''Where are you right now?''
''Right now, I'm at a gas station in Bakersfield. Mythbusters proved you can't blow up your car by talking on the phone, right?''
''Why?''
''Because I don't want to blow up.'' She made the grin-sound again. ''There's actually steam coming out of your ears right now, isn't there? All right. There's a creepy 1970s-style rape van over at pump seven, and while I don't think she's in there, it left at the same time, and the driver is sort of sketchy.''
Alex pushed off the wall, skirting around the backstage area. She avoided the collective busybodies, production crew, and interns that kept SCCW on the air. In the ring, the ten-on-ten rumble was in mid-swing, so it was something less of a zoo than normal.
''That isn't much to go on,'' the Spider was saying as she slipped into her locker room. Quinn looked up from her BlackBerry, brows pinned up above cat's-eye glasses, but Alex waved her off.
''If I'm right, they know something. If they know something, I'll get it.''
Pierce crossed to her laptop bag, the phone tucked up against her shoulder. ''No killing,'' she said.
Devonshire's chuckle was a short, dark thing, a splash of cold water. ''You're cute when you're soft. Send someone to Rosita's in the morning. It'll be just like old times.''
''Just like old times. Why are you doing this?''
''If you haven't figured that one out yet, you wouldn't believe me if I told you.'' The grin-sound followed, the hollow thump of a gas cover closing banging in her ear. ''Have to run my intended is trying to give me the slip. Remember, Rosita's at nine.''
''Rosita's at nine. Thanks again.''
''Don't mention it.'' From the sound of it, Devonshire had climbed into the car, and she gunned her engine before giving chase. ''I mean really don't mention it. King Hardass, capital-R Rules. You remember..''
Neither of them said ''Goodbye'' they didn't like each other enough to hope for another visit.
Alex was only off the phone for a moment, but Quinn filled that space with as many questions as she could think of. ''What's going on?'' she demanded. ''Who was that? Why do you have that 'I'm about to do some very bad things' face?''
''That was Drusilla.'' Pierce dug a Bluetooth from her laptop case she might hate the things, but she needed the convenience to multitask without risking the phone.
''Dru?'' The girl's brows climbed above the rims of her glasses. ''What the hell does she w''
Alex managed a small, worried smile. ''She says Jennie's been kidnapped.''
''And you, what, just believe her?''
''I'm getting independent confirmation, but why would she lie?''
Gregory crossed to her mother's side, folding her arms in irritation. ''Uh, maybe because she's fucking crazy person? That seems like a good reason to me.''
''Just... call it a gut feeling.'' Alex squeezed her daughter's forearm. ''I'll find out for sure, but I might need some help.''
''Of course. You know I'll do anything.''
''I may need your team,'' Pierce said without trace of mockery.
''My team?'' Quinn's eyes widened. ''Since when do I have a team?''
''Since they rescued me.'' A tentative knock on the door interrupted them. ''That would be Ethan I'm supposed to talk about the Usual Suspects match. See if you can delay him, or else cut the promo yourself.''
''I'll take care of it.'' The Devil's Daughter started for the door, only pausing briefly to glance over her shoulder. ''She'll be all right, Mom.''
Grey eyes met green. ''Don't say anything either of us will regret.'' Then she turned away, whispering under her breath. ''Come on, pick up...''
Quinn slipped through the door just as Ramos' answering machine tripped on. ''Hey, it's Jen. You know the drill.''
''Jennie!'' Alex tried to force the worry from her voice. ''It's... uh, it's Alex Pierce. I was just thinking about you. I'm in Italy this weekend, but I was sort of hoping that maybe we could''
The receiver clicked loudly as someone picked up, and Pierce's heart skipped a beat. But there was no Jennie, no speaker at all. Just steady, even breathing. If she didn't know better, Alex would think Jennie was asleep.
''Jen?'' Alex prompted gently. ''Jen, are you there?''
''She is... really, really not.'' It was a man's voice, flat and sort of muffled, digitally stripped of any identifying characteristics. ''I must say this is far sooner than I expected to hear from you. Does that mean your heartfelt declaration was actually true?''
Pierce's knuckles whitened around the phone. ''What do you want her for?''
''Perhaps I simply want to hear you beg me to spare her. Maybe I want to hurt you like you've hurt so many people in your life. Or maybe I am bored. Let us play a game, shall we, Desade?''
''You have one hour to set her free.'' It was the coldest, deadliest whisper she knew how to use.
It washed off the man like water from a duck's back. ''That is not very sporting. Do I have your fucking attention now, Spider? Or must I send her back in pieces to merit the full measure of your might. I want to get into the Order's Archives.''
''My codes have certainly been deactivated,'' Alex said. ''They won't be of any use to''
''I did not say I wanted your codes,'' the man said evenly. ''I said I wanted to get into the Archives. Let us not kid ourselves here: I have made my demand, and you will comply, because it will cost you nothing to do so, and we both know you are a rational being.''
She scoffed. ''You've been talking to the wrong people.''
''Please.'' He didn't quite scoff. ''Anything else is simply a charade to buoy your daughter's spirits. Make no mistake; if you force my hand, I will kill this girl. I will lay her down on a plastic sheet and I will slit her throat. Perhaps I can videotape it and send it to you as a keepsake, a reminder that it was your pride that caused this. It will be your fault.''
She turned, firing a glare into a nearby mirror. ''You have no idea who you are playing with here.''
''Au contraire... it is you that has no clue. I do not want to do this terrible, necessary thing it will make me quite sad if I must. And then tomorrow, I will do it again. Not to you or your child, not to the tattooed harlot to whom you are beholden. Perhaps to the boy who delivers your newspaper or the Mexican who parked your car. It could be girl who serves you coffee tomorrow, the teenager at the drive-thru. Again and again, I will make them suffer, these innocents whose only crime is that they were kind to Alexandra Pierce. How long will it take? How long until you let me into the Archives personally? You have an hour as well.''
Slowly, the Spider settled into her cloth director's chair. ''You seem to have thought this through, sir. It's quite obvious you know just who I am, which I appreciate, believe me. At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, I suggest you start running now. If you harm that girl, you will not have the chance to take another. There will be nowhere you can run, no hole deep enough to keep me from finding you. And when I do, I can promise you it will be the longest, most excruciating moment of your life.''
The man clucked his tongue, his chuckle bubbling through his words. ''And here I thought the great Desade had become a paper tiger, all caught up in rules and vows. They say you do not kill any longer as if a few months as a pacifist could wash those hands clean.''
''I am no pacifist, sir. And there is a wide gulf between you being healthy and you being dead one I expect we will explore together.''
''There is the spirit!'' The voice distorter made emotion difficult to pick out, but the kidnapper certainly sounded amused. ''It would seem we are at an impasse, mum.''
''Indeed.'' Alex marshaled her voice, thin lips pressed together in a line. ''I think we will see each other again very soon.''
''Let the games begin,'' the nameless man said before the line went dead.
Pierce pushed out into the hall, ignoring Ethan Peters and the cameraman to focus her stony gaze on her daughter. ''Quinn. Call them we're wheels up an hour after the broadcast.''
Gregory slipped into the room after the retreating Medusa. ''Call who? Is she okay?''
''Rat and Vulture. Call them.''
''Is she okay?'' the teen repeated.
''I don't know.''
The girl's brows bunched again. ''Was she home?''
''Quinn... please, just do this for me. They'll come if you call, and I don't have many people I can count on right now. I haven't seen Elijah or Roderick since your birthday, Donnie's missing more than he's around, Vigzoni is still in the hospital. I'm sort of running low on options here.''
Gregory nodded sharply. ''What about Stryker? Maddox? Amy?''
''I can't trust this to Jonas, and I won't ask Amy to dive back into my affairs to help the girl who would like very much to be her replacement.''
''What about Helena?'' Gregory pressed. ''I'm sure she'd''
The Spider held up a single finger, switching her iPhone from her left ear to the right as she turned away. ''Detective,'' she said by way of greeting. ''I was wondering if you might be able to do me a small favor? I need you to stop by a tattoo parlor called Rosita's. Do you have a pen? You must tell the woman behind the counter exactly what I say, word for word.''
The Usual Suspects match ended in a draw between Amy Campbell and Alexandra Pierce, the kind of thing that usually resulted in one of the competitors asking for more time. Not this time, however the moment the clock hit double zero, the Medusa rolled under the bottom rope, making her way up the ramp. The high-fives she gave to the Italian fans were cursory at best, done by rote, and she padded down the steps behind the SinScreen two at a time.
Adrienne St. Germain, spoiled rich girl by birth, part owner of the federation by choice, met Pierce at the base of the stairs, her dog carrier under one arm and an imperious frown on her lips. ''I hope you don't think I'm going to stand for that,'' she sniffed. ''There is no way that Nigel gets two Chosen Ones.''
Alex didn't stop, pushing past the waif of a girl, brows curled sharply over her eyes. ''I don't care...''
''Don't you walk away from me!'' Adrienne demanded, the rapid-fire click-clack of her heels like a machine gun in her wake. ''I don't know what kind of sweet deal you're used to, but I'm not going to let the two of you walk over SCCW anymore.''
''Take it up with Amy,'' Pierce snorted. ''I'll live with whatever she says.''
Her daughter was waiting in the hallway when they reached it, her BlackBerry pressed to her ear. ''I so should've written that number down,'' she muttered, combing back her mass of midnight black hair with the fingers of one hand.
''You have everything?'' Alex asked sharply, earning a nod from her daughter, who patted the duffel bag at her side. ''Let's go.''
St. Germain all but stomped her foot. ''We haven't finished!'' she insisted. ''You haven't even showered yet!''
Quinn lowered her phone just long enough to speak. ''Dude, don't ask to shower with my mom while I'm standing here.''
It was like both Pierces dismissed Adrienne from existence, turning down the hallway. The younger juggled the overlarge bag and her phone with surprising grace. ''Cecilia Sicarii, please,'' Gregory said.
At least, she did until she plowed into a wall of muscle wrapped in leather. Gregory staggered backwards, the bag nearly ruining her balance. ''Hey!'' she grumbled, looking up, up, up to Sin City's Valkyrie, Suzanne Larsson. ''Er, I mean... I mean 'Hey!' Sup?'' She jerked her chin in a little up-nod. ''I've seen you around and I''
''Quinn.'' The word was sharp, echoing down the hall.
The teen's sea-green gaze shot in that way. ''And I have to go. See you around?''
Larsson said nothing, but she didn't move either, and the girl turned completely sideways to step past. Gregory put the phone back to her ear. ''Me?'' She looked back over her shoulder, quickening her steps. ''Harlequin. Tell her it's Harlequin.''
It was the buzzing that woke him up a constant, repetitive breep sound that trickled past his dreams and yanked him back to consciousness. Jadian Bridden hated alarm clocks, and the violence he used to hammer the sleep button would have knocked many men unconscious (or so he'd like to think).
Except the buzzing didn't stop, and that was when he realized it was coming from the bathroom, a line of orange-yellow light escaping to paint a border between his side of the bed and hers. ''Guh,'' he grumbled, searching for his voice as he stole a pillow from one side of the bed to cover his head. ''Juli, knock it off with the noise!''
''Sorry!'' Julissa Minorez' voice was bright on the other side of the door. ''Just finishing up in here. I want to look good today.''
''What's today?'' He mumbled the question into the pillow. At least the noise had stopped.
She pulled the bathroom door open slightly, tossing a roll of toilet paper at his head. ''You know what today is!''
''Did you just throw toilet paper at me?''
''It was the closest thing I could find!''
Minorez' walk had always been more of a strut. Watching her undulate across the room in a pair of stiletto-heeled shoes was one of Jadian's private joys, and he resented Alexandra Pierce for taking that away from him almost more than he hated the Spider for hurting her to start with. Julissa Minorez who pulled open the bathroom door had to reach for a pair of fiberglass crutches. One slipped from its perch against the wall, sliding down to clatter against the tiled floor.
He didn't mind the sight of her bending over to pick it up, though.
Julissa's ankle was wrapped in a soft, pastel pink air cast, and it hung loosely as the Mexican Minx maneuvered into the hotel room. Bridden took a long look, his lips pressed together in a tiny bow he wasn't certain how she'd managed to don those painted-on blue jeans, but he wasn't going to ask. Maybe later, when they were alone. Still, the view made him rise and got him out of bed, too.
The former GateWire champion slid up behind his girlfriend, one hand around her waist, fingertips skimming along the swath of bare flesh between the hem of her lime green shirt and those jeans, dipping under the waistband. ''I still say I should go with you,'' he said. ''You'll be by yourself, in some strange building, poked and prodded by strange guys...''
''And you'd rather have me be poked and prodded by you?'' Minorez grinned, leaning back against the Ace in the Hole. ''Lane and Kathi need you here. If we're going to get rid of Alex, I want you here as part of the talks, so that they don't decide to use you as cannon fodder to weaken her.''
''I don't want to have this fight again.'' Jay dropped his eyes. ''I told you, this will be good for me. For us. When I'm the one who ends Pierce's career, who puts the Big, Bad Wolf out to pasture''
''If you do. If.''
When he turned away, the sudden loss of her leaning post nearly sent the Minx tumbling to the floor. She stifled a grunt of pain, briefly touching her bad foot down to the ground as she steadied herself.
''Jay...'' Her voice was always soft, but rarely that gentle. ''You know I worry. I know what she's like. She did this to me, she tried to dislocate Miles' shoulder... what's she going to do to Lane? To you?''
''I'll be fine, Jules. They've got a plan, and they promised I'd be a part of it and not as another body for her to run through.''
Minorez sighed softly, closing her eyes briefly. ''I'm going to miss my appointment,'' she said, touching her palms to his chest. ''Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, okay?''
She wanted him to say he'd miss her, but she settled for letting him open the door so she could hobble out. Bridden watched until Minorez turned the corner before slipping inside. He turned on the television, flipping channels aimlessly.
After a moment, Jay picked up his cellphone, punching just the number five button and ''dial''. The call connected immediately he didn't wait for a greeting. ''She just left,'' he said. ''I hope you're wrong.''
''I'm not,'' was the only response he got before the line went dead.
Jadian leaned back into his stack of pillows with a long sigh. What the fuck was on TV at 11:30 in the morning, anyway?
It was a clumsy tail.
Julissa spotted the car not long after she'd pulled out of the hotel parking lot, a boxy, shit-brown Pontiac, its driver's hand dangling out the window, half-smoked cigarette in his fingers. She gave no sign she'd seen him at first, driving leisurely through the Vegas streets once you got away from the hectic Strip, the city was actually sort of plain, all the better to lull the man following you into a false sense of security.
Minorez pulled into a gas station parking lot, her hazel eyes pausing only briefly on the stoners leaning against the side of the building, but her grin stretched at the sight. She made a show of struggling with her crutches until some helpful Good Samaritan held the car door open for her. She gave the guy a grateful smile, using him to shield her from the tail car as she hobbled inside.
That's right, fellas. Juli thought, shooting them a brief glance in the reflection cast by a plate glass door. Just a poor crippled girl headed inside for an unhealthy lunch.
The clerk looked up from wiping down the countertop, calling the same greeting he probably gave to everyone who entered. Minorez crossed to the man, a gangly thing in a red polo shirt, letting a smile play across her full lips. ''Hi,'' she said no, cooed. ''Could you point me to the payphone?''
''Sure.'' His eyes only drifted briefly to her low-cut top. ''It's down at the end of the hall by the restrooms.''
''Great. Do I need a key for the ladies' room?'' She turned as best she could, pulling a black souvenir Vegas t-shirt and red Runnin' Rebels cap off the rack.
''Nope, should be open.'' He rang her up quickly, and Juli figured the smile was the best one he had. ''$14.78.''
''Ooh, and some gum.'' She slapped a pack of Bubblelicious down next to the clothing.
''$15.64,'' he corrected, and she handed him a twenty before her herky-jerky, crutch-aided walk took her down the hall.
The first stop was the bathroom, and Minorez bolted the door behind her. Once she was clear, the Minx discarded her unnecessary crutches, painlessly putting her weight on both feet. The ankle injury was overblown it wasn't even sprained but she'd found a doctor amenable to saying it was for the right price. She liked to think she felt bad about lying to Jadian about the extent of it, but he was devoted to the Hand's goals, and she didn't want to put him in the position of having to lie for her.
Besides, being the poor innocent girl with a busted ankle was occasionally quite helpful. No one expected her to just walk out of a gas station, for example, and the ballcap and extra-large tee would help to hide her identity. Juli made a pair of quick calls from the payphone before padding down the hallway to the side door.
''Psst!'' she called. ''Hey, you! You in the Diamondbacks cap! Come here!''
The first thing that any student of Kathryn Shaw learns is to lie with their eyes. It's easy to spin tall tales, to say the right words that will find a way past a man's defenses, but the eyes are harder to fool. To look at a man like he's the only thing in your universe, like you'd devour him where he stood if not for the proprieties of society... that's a powerful weapon, especially on a seventeen-year-old boy.
''Uh, hey,'' the kid stammered.
''Thank God you're here. Would you be willing to lend me your bike?'' she asked, making her eyes wide and hopeful. ''I'll bring it back, promise.''
He looked over his shoulder rubbing at the back of the neck. ''My bike?'' His brows climbed. ''I don't know...''
''How about if I give you two hundred dollars now and I take the bike. In an hour, you meet me and give me back the money, and I'll give you the bike.''
''Two hundred bucks?''
Minorez slid a hand into her pocket, pulling out a small stack of bills. ''Two hundred,'' she repeated, licking her fingertips. She counted out ten twenty-dollar bills.
He gave a long look to the money. ''What do you need it for?''
She stepped in, tucking the whole bundle into the breast pocket of the kid's short-sleeved shirt. ''That's three hundred, so don't ask. Maybe when we meet up later, you and I grab a burger or something?''
It was hot enough in Las Vegas that the kid didn't have to wonder why he was perspiring. ''Yeah, that'd be cool.''
''Great. Either of you have a pen?'' One of the other boys produced a Bic ballpoint, and Juli wrote a cross street on the boy's hand. ''Meet me there in an hour. And just so you know I'm not fucking with you, this... is my number. Can I borrow your cell?''
''Uhh...'' he paused, searching for words. God, she smelled good. ''Sure. I guess.''
She plucked the phone from his hand, straddling the bike just as a black-and-white patrol car pulled in beside the Pontiac. Juli's first call had been to the cops, about a suspicious car lurking around the elementary school, watching the kids. Towns with the kind of reputation Vegas had took care to protect people from perverts. They wouldn't find anything, of course, but it would delay him so he wouldn't see the girl on the bicycle pedaling past, her face obscured with by the biggest pink bubble she could blow.
By the time he realized she was gone, it would be too late. She wasn't going far, just to the address she'd left the boy, because the second call was to a cab company. She only used the boy's cell for a single text message, hastily deleted.
''On the 3:25 flight,'' it said, and she just signed it ''J''.
When the kid got there, she'd be gone and he'd have her three hundred dollars, his bike, and his cellphone, so he wasn't certainly going to say anything.
That was three days ago.
Today, Julissa Minorez was in the deserts of central Mexico, trying to seem uncomfortable. She stood on the side of the road in a pencil skirt and a button-up halter blouse that was probably cut a smidge too low. She had her arms out to her sides, feet spaced evenly apart as a man with hard, calloused hands felt her up in the guise of frisking her.
She kept her smile even, steady, and just on the bad side of professional, not looking away from the well-dressed man in the Hummer. Omar Nasir was the worst kind of scum he wasn't the guy who did the deed, he was the guy who facilitated the deed-doer getting paid. He was efficient, careful, and not at all affected by the best set of bedroom eyes in Minorez' arsenal.
She thought he was a little bit fancy.
''You understand, Miss Monroe, yes?'' Omar asked in that way that made it much less of a question. ''In our line of work, we can never be too careful.''
''Oh, of course,'' Juli breathed in her best Alexandra Pierce whisper. ''If your man keeps his hand there, though, I will have to charge him.'' She smiled softer than she wanted, and the man Mustafa or something stood, scowling at the woman. She did her best not to wink in return.
''She is clean,'' the big Arab concluded in thickly accented English.
''Not what my ex used to say,'' she breezed, shifting her hazel eyes to Omar. ''Are we going to do business here on the side of the road?'' She glanced down towards the bazaar. ''I'd been told you handled things a little more professionally than that.''
''Who did you say hired you, Ms. Monroe?''
''Aisha, please. And I didn't say.'' Juli's grin widened slightly. ''Every girl has a father, Mr. Nasir. It's just not every father that can afford to hire someone to do something about it.'' She spread her hands slightly. ''Now. Can I get in or not?''
''I think... I think I like you Ms. Aisha Monroe. You have balls.''
''Not nearly as many as I'd like,'' she murmured, sliding her smile to the side for Mustafa.
Omar laughed again. ''Come...'' He patted the seat next to him. ''We will find a place that is cooler to talk about this Ramos woman you have been hired to help find.''
Juli took her time getting into the Hummer, making sure that Mustafa was looking. It was a twenty-minute ride to the watering hole, but it took nearly a half-hour to get there, given the driver's numerous glances into the back seat. The big man offered her a delicate hand to help out of the car.
''I think my man is infatuated with you,'' Omar said with a chuckle as he followed.
''I hadn't noticed,'' she sniffed. Balancing the acts, being the sexpot and the ice-cold professional at the same time, was tricky so difficult it wasn't usually worth trying. They didn't know where Jennie was being kept, however, so Juli had to keep her options open.
The room they called a ''watering hole'' was really little more than converted storage space. The bar was made out of stacked crates, and it wasn't straight or flat or clean. The tables and chairs had been scavenged from the vendors sometimes, a buyer only wanted four chairs and five were for sale. The remainder was left to go to waste, and eventually it ended up here.
She didn't want to think about the glasses or the contents of the bottle Omar pulled out of a small crate buried. It was thick like molasses with a kick like a mule, and she tried to make it look like she was drinking far more than she was. ''So what do you have for me, Omar?'' she said over the rim of the glass.
''Not very much, I am afraid.'' He tugged his attachι case across the table. ''It seems she has been taken, yes, but not by any of the expected groups. This is not cartel business, or any organized group I can find.''
''For the price you've quoted, Omar, you'd better have something more than who it isn't.''
''For the price I've quoted you, I would kidnap her myself to provide an answer.'' He ruffled through the papers. ''From what I have been able to unearth, it appears this is the work of an independent contractor.'' He plucked a small stack of paper from the file, one staple through the upper left corner at a perfect, forty-five degree angle.
Juli's eyes drifted away, one brow quivering. She'd heard something she just couldn't quite place what. The bazaar was noisy, chaotic a few dozen voices shouting in more languages than she knew, packages being moved. There were drinkers, there were lovers, and there were fighters.
She tried to look at the papers, her mind whirring through possibilities. ''Independent?'' She looked over the rims of her glasses. ''Our reports are that these people have... connections.''
''Oh, this guy... he's good. So far, I only have a name.''
That was when Julissa realized what the sound was a fight outside the building. No, not a fight.
It was an attack.
''They call him Decker,'' Omar said.
''This is Pierce. I've been blown. Abort. Repeat: abort.'' The voice was in Juli's ear.
''Decker?'' She tried to sound interested, had to keep pace. He couldn't know she had an earbud in. ''I'm not familiar with the name.''
''Negative.'' Rat this time, stationed nearby to observe. ''Everything inside is still on pace.''
''He operates out of Europe mostly,'' Omar explained. ''Shadowy guy. His jacket is all made up of ghosts and whispers. Every time I got close, the thread ran away like a cockroach scurrying under the fridge.''
''And what happens when the goon doesn't answer his call?'' Pierce again and Juli recognized that tone. She was angry. She'd been angry since they'd gathered. ''I am ending this now.''
The Minx leaned back in the chair, tapping her finger to her lips. ''But you caught it, right? All you have to do is build a proper roach motel.''
''Three seconds.''
It's the hardest thing in the world to not brace for an attack that you know is coming. To not count those seconds or dive too quickly... it takes a lot more guts than actually taking the shot. So Juli didn't move when the smoke grenades dropped through the window. She didn't duck when Alexandra Pierce came in following them, a whirling dervish of arms, legs, and dodges.
The woman was a marvel, and Omar's big bodyguard hit the ground in seconds, pistol-whipped into unconsciousness. She was like lightning Julissa thought she was good, but Alex fucking Pierce was a monster.
A monster can still be beaten, and the Spider didn't see Omar draw his combat knife, didn't see him prowl up on her like a panther.
''Omar, no!'' she tried to sound desperate, afraid and to keep it from being a warning.
Alex turned, whipping the machine gun around to level it at Omar. ''Drop the knife,'' Pierce said quietly. ''I don't want to shoot you, but that doesn't mean I won't.''
Something was wrong. The whole thing didn't feel right. Minorez watched Omar straighten, watched the smile creep across his lips. He was too calm, too confident. ''You want to shoot me, don't you, American bitch?'' he asked, disturbingly pleasant. What was going on? ''You want to shoot me, but you are afraid something bad will happen if you do. Let me tell you something: you are right.''
Julissa surged to her feet; they needed to be in control here, not Omar. He was planning something, and she had to ruin it without making it look like she was trying.
''Hang on, hang on!'' She stepped between them, her hands lifted. ''No one is shooting anyone.'' Stay in control, she told herself. Cool. Calm. Awesome. Alex met her gaze, and Juli's brow furrowed, concentrating as she blinked. ''I'm sure we can all be reasonable about this,'' she said.
Come on. Come on, pick up on it.
''We left 'reasonable' some time ago.'' Alex tilted her head, meeting Juli's gaze. Now Minorez was sure the other woman was watching. Dot-dash-dot-dot. Dot. Dot-dot-dash-dot. Dash.
''I don't think you want to kill Mr. Nasir.'' She filled the silence with words, words that didn't mean anything, but were just enough to keep him from trying something himself. Her hand dropped to the tiny knife hidden in her belt, her failsafe in case things went wrong. She repeated the series again: Dot-dash-dot-dot. Dot. Dot-dot-dash-dot. Dash.
''If you did, he'd be dead already. His guard as well. And me, of course.'' Juli stepped forward slowly; she couldn't look back to see if Omar saw her weapon. She just had to hope he was smarter than they thought he was. ''In fact, I've seen nothing that says you're going to pull that trigger, so why don't we just talk it''
Nasir stepped back suddenly, his chair scraping the floor as he tried to provide a distraction.
Dot-dash-dot-dot. Dot. Dot-dot-dash-dot. Dash.
L-E-F-T.
Thankfully, Alex had been paying attention, and she twisted out of the way of the knife. Juli hadn't pulled her strike, not even a little. He had to think she was on his side. Alex stepped in tight, elbowing the side of the Minx's head and stomping hard on the heel of her shoe. Her push-off was more of a guide, and Juli spun with it, letting her feet tangle, falling into Omar's arms.
The rifle burped behind her, bullets sliding just barely to the side. They'd thud into the floorboards, but with luck, he'd never have a chance to look. She'd faked her death before, and though she wouldn't admit it, she'd seen what happens when people get shot in the back. She arched her back, letting the tiniest of gasps slip through her lips.
Omar lifted his eyes as Juli tumbled gracelessly to the floor; dead bodies just sort of collapse, they don't fall and they can't catch themselves. ''You didn't have to shoot her!'' he shouted. ''She was not a part of this!'' All the confidence was gone from his voice, all the smarminess. He'd been broken, at least temporarily.
''She made herself part of this when she tried to stab me.'' That was Desade voice, the old way of things. Alex was slipping but Julissa didn't know what that meant, beyond Very Bad Things. ''Now... you were saying something about me being right to worry?''
Minorez was the only one who saw Rat pop around the corner. She was the only one who saw the tranq gun lurch in the tiny girl's hands. The dart whipped into Nasir's neck. ''Who... who are you?'' he whispered, falling to his knees.
''Your worst nightmare,'' Pierce answered, and the hollow smack of rifle stock on jaw was loud enough to nearly make Minorez jump. ''Not bad for an afternoon's work.''
It was an old code, but Juli still remembered it. All clear.
She pushed off the ground, groaning softly. ''You didn't have to hit me so hard,'' she grumbled.
''And if I was an inch slower, I'd have an extra hole to breathe out of.''
Sicarii helped Minorez to her feet. They hadn't said two words to each other, but those two words (''Fuck off'') were enough to know that the tiny woman didn't exactly respect Juli for her brains. ''That was... kind of fun, actually,'' the Minx said.
''Fun?'' Rat's eyebrows appeared ready to launch off her forehead. ''You two are fucking whacked.'' The tiny tank muscled Omar up, dragging him out of the building. ''I'll take this asshat to the van.'' She made brief eye contact with the Spider. ''Your kid is freaking out, by the way. You need to shut her up.''
Minorez hid a smile; the gruff attitude was a smokescreen the same one that her father used to use. ''What happens to Omar now?'' Juli asked, watching after them. ''Where are you taking him?''
''I have a place,'' Alex said. ''Haven't used it in a long time, but... but it's still there.''
''And then what?''
The taller woman didn't answer, turning sharply away from her handiwork. The movement was all Desade, sharp angles and businesslike efficiency. The memories this was dredging up weren't at all pleasant. ''Jadian will be spared, as agreed. The Hand will fall, but I will not end him.''
Juli managed a small nod, suddenly very aware that this was a woman who'd just eliminated two heavily-armed guards could have killed them if she'd wanted to. ''Thanks.''
''Did he say anything? Omar?'' The ice cracked in Pierce's voice, some semblance of the woman emerging from behind the mask. ''Did he tell you who did this?''
Juli leaned against the makeshift bar, removing her sandals. ''He said it was a ghost. Smells like the Order. There's a file there on the ground by the table. It was everything he had.''
Alex nodded, touching the amber stone that rested in the hollow of her throat. It was a momentary gesture, but it was like she gained strength from it. Her steps didn't even seem to disturb the sawdust on the ground.
''It's basically just rumors and a name.'' The Minx rubbing at the soles of her feet.
Alex stooped to pluck the papers from the ground. ''What name?''
''Decker,'' Julissa said. ''That mean anything to you?''
Pierce's fingers tightened into a fist, crumpling the edge of the papers. ''That's impossible,'' she whispered.
''Why?'' Juli's brows arched.
''Because I killed him.''