you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was just sitting there drinking my coffee.”
My gaze flicked briefly to the inside of his car. He did indeed have a travel mug sitting in the center console, but I seriously doubted the rest of his story. There was too much tension emanating from his body for an innocent man.
“We have two options here,” I said, squeezing his hand a little harder. I could smell the sweat on him so I knew it had to be hurting, but there was no sign of fear or pain on his face or in his eyes. A tough man, through and through. “I can beat you to a pulp and then get my answers, or you can simply give me the answers I want and walk away without broken bones.”
He considered it for several heartbeats, then said, “How do I know you’re a fucking guardian?”
I shifted my grip slightly and pulled out my badge, showed it to him, then put it away again. “Now, why are you following me?”
“Because that’s what I’m being paid to do.”
“By whom?”
He shrugged. “I’m just a contractor.”
Meaning there was some sort an underworld job agency hiring out thugs? I’m not sure why I was surprised, given all that I’d seen over the last few years, but for some reason I was.
“So give me your boss’s name and we’ll call it quits.”
He snorted, spraying fine particles of snot over my hand. Charming. “Get real. He’ll kill me if I did that.”
“And I’ll kill you if you don’t.”
I wouldn’t—and couldn’t if he
“Fuck.” He shifted his stance a little, and I tensed, half expecting him to try and kick me. But he didn’t. “Okay. I’m not getting paid enough to mess with the likes of you.”
“So he didn’t tell you I was a guardian?” I reached out telepathically and lightly connected with his thoughts —
not enough for him to sense me but more than enough to tell truth from lies.
“No.” His voice was hostile, indicating he wasn’t too happy with his boss right now.
“And the plate number didn’t make you realize?” I mean, the Directorate, like all government departments, had their own plates. It would have been a little hard to miss the fact that he wasn’t following an ordinary car.
“Well, yeah, but you could have been an office worker for all I knew. I didn’t know we had female guardians who weren’t vamps.”
Few people did—mainly because I was the only one. “So, the name of your boss?”
“Henry. Henry Bottchelli.”
“And Bottchelli didn’t tell you why he wanted me followed?”
“Nope. Just that I had to follow you for the next couple of days, providing regular updates about your location.”
“Nope. I’m paid to do a job, not ask questions.”
And I was thinking it was more a case of “the less he knew, the less he could blab.” “Is Bottchelli his real name?”
“Yeah.” He hesitated. “As far as I know.”
“How do I find him?”
He moved again, and the quick desire to lash out ran through his thoughts. He dismissed it, but not easily. I squeezed his hand harder, making him concentrate on me and the pain rather than the escape he was contemplating.
“I’ve only got a cell number. He contacts me with the job, and I contact him when the job is done.”
Meaning whoever the boss was, he was extremely cautious. Which sounded very much like Blake.
“When did he contact you about this job?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“How did you find me in Melton?”
“Cell phone scanner. Heard them call you to the murder, so I just waited out of sight.”
Meaning I’d have to change my number, pronto. “Give me the number you use to contact your boss.”
Again he hesitated. And this time, the need to retaliate surged into action and he lashed out with a booted foot. I jumped away from the blow, but the tip of his steel-capped boots skimmed my shin with enough force behind it to make pain shimmer up my leg. But I didn’t let go of him and my sudden movement unbalanced him, pulling him away from the car. His free arm flailed as he tried to regain his balance, but I released his other hand and gave him an additional shove.
He landed heavily on his hands and knees. I planted a heel on his back and forced him into the dirt.
“Now, shall we try that again?” I said, voice cold. “Or shall I drive this stiletto right through your spine?”
“Bitch,” he muttered—though his thoughts were a whole lot more colorful and creative.
“Phone number,” I said, barely resisting the impulse to smile. Only to have the impulse die almost as suddenly as it had risen.
What had happened to the reluctance to do this job? What had happened to the fear that I could one day take it too far?
But I didn’t ease the pressure of my heel on his back. I might fear what I was becoming, but I feared whatever Blake had planned more.
He gave me the phone number. I shoved it into my memory banks, then said, “And your name?”
“Rudy White.”
His thoughts said he was telling the truth. They also told me where he lived, so I could find him again if I needed to.
“Well, Rudy, I suggest very strongly that you give up trailing, because you’re not very good at it.” I stepped away and he scrambled to his feet with surprising dexterity for such a big man. “And if I spot you following me again, I’ll throw your ass in jail and throw away the key.”
“You can’t do that—”
“I can do anything I want with scum like you. Remember that the next time you take on a job that involves Directorate personnel.”
He scowled but didn’t say anything.
“Now get into the car and drive away,” I added.
He obeyed. I waited until he’d left the parking lot, then pressed the com-link button and said, “You heard all that?”
“Yep,” Sal said, “Jack’s already applied for a new cell number for you. We should have it within an hour or so. The phone number White gave us is listed as belonging to a Frank Wise. Who, according to our records, was beheaded several months ago in a robbery gone wrong.”
Interesting. “What about Bottchelli?”
“He’s another man with no official records of any kind.”
I might not have any proof, but I’d bet my very last dollar that Blake was the man behind both identities.
“Meaning he has unofficial ones?”
“Actually, no. But his name has been linked to a number of armed robberies, including several that ended up with fatalities.”
Not a bad effort for a man who apparently didn’t exist. “Meaning we haven’t got as much as a license picture or an address for him?”
“No. Jack’s just given the go-ahead to break into the phone records of both men to see if we can find any connecting numbers. That’ll give us a starting place.”
Which meant Jack was taking this situation seriously, because even he could get into considerable trouble for doing that without approval from the higher-ups. Not that
