“Probably wouldn’t. Considering.” She took a step backward then stopped. “Reyes? How did you know I would come here? You know, instead of haring out and holing up in some abandoned wreck somewhere?”
He shrugged. “You live four miles from Santo Domingo. The Kewa belong to one of the biggest Nations. It made sense for you to come here, knowing we wouldn’t go in after you. And it’s what I would have done.”
Lena nodded. So much for not being predictable. Better get to work on that, chica.
She backed away across the road to the Pueblo. She hated being predictable. “Goodbye. Have a good life, Reyes.”
He smiled and shook his head, calling after her, “This isn’t good-bye. In fact, you should call me Alex. We’ll see each other again.”
She turned away and strode into Santo Domingo. “Not going to happen,” she shouted back over her shoulder.
“Yes,” Reyes said, the certainty carrying to her with his voice. “It will.”
Chapter 3
Alex leaned back into the corner where the bar and the wall met, watching the young people circulating in the long room. The far end held a tiny dance floor and a small corner stage where a trio of young men worked setting up a homemade drum set. Tables hugged each other in the space between the bar and the dance floor. The whole place was dim, lit by tallow lamps hung on short chains well out of reach of customers in their twenties flitting around each other. His gaze moved with the crowd. Was one of these people the key to bringing Lena back to the city?
“We might’ve had her if we’d approached her differently,” he told himself under his breath. He couldn’t believe how thoroughly the op had been screwed.
Lucas had been after him for months, telling Alex he was ready to lead and implying Alex was holding him back. A rumor had come in about a powered girl living in the desert—yet another nonexistent ghost girl. Alex had given the entire file to Lucas to shut him up. He remained hands-off, letting Lucas build his own op and handle his own research and contacts. Alex had assumed she was a Neo-barb, or at best a mid-range runaway they’d drag back to the city and put to work in the power grid. He had encountered both before. From the moment they’d driven up and he’d seen her up on her roof making repairs and glowing like the sun, he’d known she was the real deal. So had Lucas. What a clusterfuck.
Once they’d returned to Azcon, Alex had sent Lucas to both Council and city offices to research all official employees named Danny. Lucas had tried to fight him, of course. Alex had been forced to coach him through the process, yet again.
“Listen, we already have all the information we need. We have her name, Lena. We know her brother is her contact, which means she has family in Azcon. We know her brother’s name is Danny. And we know from your contact that he uses a messenger to bring her client lists when he can’t get away—the messenger who put our names on the list.”
Lucas stared at him, wheels finally turning. “And if he has access to a runner he trusts and the ability to get out here regularly—”
“Well to the south of the fields and the range land—”
“Then he probably works for the city or the Council.”
“Exactly. Now, go find him.”
Lucas would follow any leads he found. Alex had conflicting loyalties, which meant he saw the problem of Little Miss Lena from a different angle, and he didn’t need Lucas peering over his shoulder.
Back at her place, tucked up next to the wall on her work table, had been a small stack of old books from the Azcon library. He’d grabbed one off the top and fanned through the pages. A slip of paper fluttered free from Orwell’s 1984.
Someone had written on the scrap in loopy, classical writing, “Piece of Asp. Saturday. Drinks are on me, girlie.” It was signed “Ace.”
Alex had no way of knowing which Saturday the note referred to, but the note told him either Lena or the mysterious Ace might be a frequent visitor to the Piece of Asp. He’d hoped to find someone who knew her to take her a message.