"For Saskia, that's still a compliment. She was raised to kill and torture people. Empathy isn't something she's known for."
I do take Saskia's lie as a compliment. I've never been great at making friends, mainly because I had Shelley.
Minka runs on the treadmill for another twenty minutes until a jerk bangs on the door. She doesn't even flinch at the sound.
"He's a tenant," she says casually while turning off the treadmill. "I studied all of them so that I could spot threats."
"Open the fucking door!" he yells, tugging at the doorknob.
Minka gestures for me to follow her. She slides the chair out of the way before opening the door and blocking the man from entering.
"You yell at me again, and we'll have a problem."
The guy glares at Minka, ready to put her in her place. I don't know what he sees in her eyes, but he keeps his mouth shut. As we're walking out, I hear him muttering about it being a public gym. Minka glares back at him through the window until he notices and ducks out of sight.
"Men," Minka says, grinning.
I share her smile, but the guy's temper scared me. Minka though shrugs off his anger as if he was no more than a tantruming child. I can't imagine walking through life with such confidence. Yet when we enter the apartment and find a sleepy Troy frantically searching for us, I imagine one day finding my place in life.
32
~~~
Troy
Blood Debt
Darla works on her puzzle while I go to the spare room. Shutting the door, I search a database of numbers I have hidden online on a blog I created about cherry blossoms.
A year earlier while Minka was on vacation, I took a job for a guy in the Cayman Islands. Jeff wasn't much to look at, but he'd managed to crawl into the bed of a sexy Latina with a drug dealer husband bent on killing the interloper. He hired me to fix his problem, and I did it easily.
Dialing Jeff's number, I remember the look on the geek's face when he told me a scary Mexican wanted to chop off his balls. I'm nearly laughing at the memory when he answers.
"Jeff, this is Ty Stewart. You hired me some time back for a job."
Jeff's silence makes me smile. I say nothing, forcing him to either hang up or find his voice. "Hello, Ty. How are you?"
"Not great to be honest. I have a problem, and I was hoping you might know how to help me."
Another period of silence passes before his balls stop crawling into his gut. "What kind of problem?"
"My woman is being threatened by a man who just transferred money to your bank. I have his bank info, but no name or address to find him with."
"I understand your concern, but the law is very clear."
Sighing dramatically, I let my disappointment settle into his bones before I speak. "I worried you'd say that. I know the law, and I know about rules. I just hoped I wouldn't have to fly to the Islands to find out the info. Leaving my woman isn't something I wanted to do, but if being in town and getting the info personally is necessary, I guess I'll fly out tonight."
"I'm not sure anyone can help you."
"No, not willingly. Laws matter to some people but not me. Well, you remember that about me, right?" I ask, giving him a chuckle.
Jeff exhales unsteadily, and I imagine him in his office thinking about the big scary man I easily killed for him. I was skilled at my job, just as I'll be skilled at extracting the information I need when I arrive in the Cayman Islands.
Understanding the threat behind my easy words, Jeff begins typing before his mouth works again.
"What's the account number?"
"Are you sure you won't get into any trouble?"
"No, I'll handle it."
Smiling, I give Jeff the account number. A minute later, I have Locke's information. The Argentinean address isn't helpful since I know he's located currently in the US. Yet I have his real name now.
Christopher Baker.
Locke's real name feels wrong. Too American, and not enough perverted monster. I thank Jeff for being such a great guy and helping me out. He sounds relieved, yet still scared.
Once I hang up, I call Rafael with the information I have on Locke. He promises to track down everything available on the freak in less than 24 hours.
I return to the living room where Darla still sits on the ground. She pretends to ignore me until I settle next to her on the floor.
"Can I help?"
A smile slowly spreads over her gorgeous face. "I liked waking up next to you this morning."
"Get used to that great feeling," I tease, taking a piece of the puzzle and pretending to care where it goes.
Darla scoots closer and returns to her puzzle. We fall into a comfortable silence. I have no idea what she's thinking, but I'm dreaming of Locke dead in various ways. Thanks to an easy job a year ago, I'm one step closer to making my dream a reality.
33
~~~
Darla
An Honest Assessment