Hunter's Moon.htm (28 page)

She nodded. "All of them are just gorgeous." I had no doubt she felt envious. I could smell the odor— it's pepper, but closer to cayenne flakes and seeds, like the ones you sprinkle on pizza.

I reached up and touched her face. She leaned into my hand. "They're trophies and they know it, love." I pulled her against my chest and spoke into her hair.

"If I wanted a trophy, I'd be with one of them. I want brains— and personality. Looks only last so long. One of these days Carmine, Louis, and Ira are going to want to trade in last year's model." Sad but true.

I tightened my arms around her in a hug. The scent of her this close stirred something inside of me. Something that made me think of home, safety— eternity. I fought it down with effort. I like to be alone. Unfortunately, the more I tried to convince myself that I wanted to remain alone, the more I smelled my own lie.

"What do you want?" she asked in something close to a whisper.

I thought about Mike's words— a keeper. Did I want one? I just didn't know. I kissed her hair. "You."

It slipped out, just like the 'love'. Warm sugar and cinnamon wafted through the summer forest. I breathed it in deep and had to shake myself to come back to my senses. I changed the subject back to the evening. "Other than Carol, did you have fun?"

She smiled and I could smell her happiness. "Linda is so wonderful! We spent the whole night talking. We probably bored the other girls. We have so much in common! I feel like I've known her my entire life after just a couple of hours."

Then she moved her head a little, amending with a bit of chagrin, "Actually, more than a couple of hours. We dropped off Ellen and Carol around 1 a.m. and sat in the back of the limo drinking wine and talking until almost 3." She started laughing suddenly and her chest bounced on mine.

"It was so funny! When we went to a club called the Blue Velvet Room, Linda was pretending to hit on female strippers! I swear I've never laughed so hard!"

She couldn't see my face. I bit back a laugh. I didn't quite know how to tell her. I wasn't sure she could wrap her white-bread middle class values around Linda.

I raised my hand to scratch an imaginary itch on my upper lip. It hid the smile. I don't think I hid the twinkle of amusement. "Um, she wasn't pretending."

Sue raised her head and looked at me curiously. All she could see was my hand scratching. "What do you mean?"

I removed my hand and the smile peeked out. "Linda swings both ways."

Sue continued to look confused, shaking her head to indicate that she didn't understand. I tried again. "Linda is bisexual. You understand that term, right?"

Her face was a case study in amazement. Her jaw dropped. "She has sex with women?"

"As well as men." I waggled my hand. "Actually only one man— Carmine."

Her voice was incredulous. "And he doesn't mind?"

I shrugged. "Not a bit. He likes to watch." I watched her take in that bit of information. Her eyes stayed wide long enough that I had to ask, "Are you okay? You look a little weird."

"Well… it's just that Linda was in the room when I was changing. And she was so attentive to everything I had to say in the limo! I mean… " she stammered.

I understood immediately but her assumption wasn't correct. "Did Linda hit on you?"

She cocked her head a tiny bit. "Well, no."

"Then don't presume she's interested in you." She couldn't quite seem to get past shocked. A small laugh escaped me.

Probably rude but I couldn't help it. "Haven't you ever had any gay friends?"

"Yeah, in college. But only guys. I've never had any female friends that were— well, like Linda."

I hoped that she realized that I wasn't laughing at her but I couldn't keep the grin off my face. "Sue, do you leap into the lap of every man that walks in the room?"

"God, no!"

I looked at her pointedly. "And Linda doesn't leap into the lap of every woman that walks in the room."

She still seemed nervous so I turned off the smile and looked at her with as much seriousness as I could muster. "Look, Linda knows that you're with me. That means that she knows you're straight. She also knows I don't share so she would never approach you. Would you think less of her if she only dated Hispanic men? Or black men?"

She shook her head.

"Of course you wouldn't." I shrugged. "So what if she likes both men and women? Big deal. You can still be friends with her. She won't try to seduce you. Unless you want her to… " I added cautiously. I didn't really know all that much about Sue's tastes. I shouldn't automatically assume.

Her face immediately panicked. "No! No, that's not my thing." All of a sudden, though, she looked pensive and then blushed. She smelled of something just short of desire laced heavily with embarrassment.

"Thinking about it?" I asked slyly.

She shook her head. "Not really. I'm just not sure whether to be grateful or insulted that she wasn't interested in me."

I laughed loud enough that she finally broke into a smile. I hugged her against me tight. We laughed and rolled in a contented glow. I wanted to stay like that forever, just being happy; being together. Trouble was, I knew someday the other boot would drop.

Chapter 25

A couple of days passed. Things were going well with Sue. I was gradually spending more time with her, getting to know her. We went out to dinner last night with Carmine and Linda. Carlin's has the best Italian in town. Big surprise. We all ate more than we should have and then stayed up late playing poker back at my place. You'd think I would have had enough of the game, but nah, I love playing. My favorite is Texas Hold'em.

I find that I'm not sleeping at Sue's house much. I had tried. I'd spent a few nights there, locked away in the downstairs. But Sue could never get comfortable enough to do more than snuggle. She was too antsy for sex and couldn't sleep. That doesn't work for me. It left me frustrated beyond belief. I've put a couple of changes of clothes there, and some toiletries, but nothing permanent. I don't trust Myra enough to store my guns there. And where I go, my guns go. I know it bothers Sue, but there's no helping it.

Speaking of guns— I had finally assembled my new toy. The Thompson Center Arms Encore pistol was gleaming softly in the fluorescent over my reloading bench. I'd just finished wiping it down with the last coat of oil. The package Mary had given me contained the final custom piece. It was a 15" stainless steel barrel, chambered in 6mm PPC, with a black chromium oxide finish. You can't buy a black chrome stainless steel barrel off the shelf. After all, who'd want to blue a stainless finish? Me. I like the weather resistance of the stainless, but they're way too visible at night.

I'd debated long and hard about the scope, but finally settled on a Burns Black Diamond Titanium 4X-16X-50mm ballistic. It's a little big for a pistol, but Encores are adaptable. They're intended to be either pistols or rifles. The frame holds the scope and it can be fitted with any number of barrel calibers and lengths. I was still doubting Burris' claim of a true "scratch-proof lens, not just scratch resistant. Supposedly, you don't even have to use a clean, dry cloth on it. If it's true, it will be hugely useful in the field. And I like Burris scopes. People will say that there are better foreign optics available. Maybe. But any guy who would quit his job as a top designer and start his own company just because his old firm was cutting corners earns my respect.

I was looking forward to taking it to the range to sight it in, but not today. I'd gotten an interesting message on my cell phone while I was in the shower. It was the second odd call in the same number of days. The first one had been from Leo. I'm not sure how he got my number. I wasn't surprised at the call when his spy failed to retrieve the papers. The day after the poker game, I'd remembered about the briefcase in the back of my car and went to retrieve it. The trunk had been popped and the case forced open. It could only have been one of Carmine's people— or, more precisely, one of Leo's people.

Leo's snarl came over the tape. "I want my property back, Giodone. You give it up or things will start getting messy."

Things were already messy. I was pissed that I had to take the Mustang in to get the trunk latch fixed. I told Carmine about the call over dinner. He cut off any speculation by Linda with one sharp word— "Enough!"— and then went back to eating dinner. Conversation was a bit tense after that, but I managed to lighten the mood after a few minutes.

I called Leo back when we got home and left a voice mail of my own. "Screw you."

Today's message was a surprise. I'd recognized the voice, but only because I'd spent some time following him. He apparently knew it, which bothered me a little. The little shit really is good.

"We need to meet," Scotty had said. "I have some information you'll want. Southside Mall, in front of the pretzel stand. 12:00."

I didn't really trust the kid, but he'd never called me before. He piqued my curiosity. But I wasn't going to meet him in public. He'll understand if it's not a set-up.

I dropped by a store on the way. I got to the mall early and wandered around some, stopping in the gift shop to pick up a card and some candy for Sue. Holding a bag made me look more inconspicuous. I couldn't spot any plain-clothes cops, and none of the mall guards even glanced my way. No surprise. Today I was a blonde with a mustache wearing a ball cap.

When Scotty arrived, I followed behind him at a distance. He was nervous— that much was obvious. I wasn't close enough to smell his emotions, but his body language was definitely edgy.

I got lucky. He stopped to tie the lace on his running shoe, raising his foot onto a bench. I had been wondering how to work my plan. He stood in line at the pretzel stand, ordered a hot salted one, and then drenched it with mustard after he sat down.

I walked right up to him and tapped his shoulder. He jumped a foot.

"Hey, kid. You left your cell phone back there." I placed the prepaid cell phone that I'd bought across town face down on the table. I could suddenly smell him— the painfully raw fear blended with cloves when he recognized my voice. The shock of surprise was enough to tell me that he was nervous not because of any set-up, but because he was scared to meet me in person. He was just that impressed with me. Okay, that was a little flattering.

I didn't wait for a reply. I just walked away as he stared at the phone in shock. In the reflection of one of the store windows as I walked away, I saw him pick it up and turn it over. He saw the yellow sticky with three words printed. "Go. Five minutes."

I exited the mall. He's a bright boy. I figured he would understand. We're both in the same field. We can't afford to meet.

I went to the Camaro I'd borrowed from Carmine and sat down to wait. When the sweep hand reached the last second of the five minute mark, I hit the speed dial that would ring his phone.

His voice was cautious when he answered. "Hello?"

"What's so important that we have to talk, Scotty?" I could hear a roaring sound in the background that grew and faded at intervals. I listened closely for a minute. Ah. He was at the skateboard park. Good choice. He should be able to spot any undercovers without sweat.

I pulled out of my parking space and headed onto the freeway. "Man, that was sweet, Mr. Giodone!" he exclaimed. "I didn't even recognize you at first! And I like the cell phone idea."

"Glad you approve. When we're done, destroy the phone. I'll do the same." I said flatly, but it pleased me that he didn't call me "Tony." He hadn't earned the right yet. "What's the scoop?"

He went business on me. That's Scotty— he can turn it on or off like a switch. "There's some new talent in town. Word is that your boss is under contract."

That got my attention. How the hell would Scotty hear about a new assassin in town who was after Carmine?

My silence must have been interpreted as disbelief, because he continued. "I've got a friend who works the streets. This new guy likes them young— and she looks it, so he's been spending some time with her. I spend time with her, too. The guy talks in his sleep and she listened in."

"Why would she care if something happens to Carmine? And why would you?"

"She doesn't care. She told me because she knows what I do and he was competition to me. I guess she's sort of sweet on me."

He tried to pass that off as an explanation. No good. "What's in it for you?"

There was silence for a moment. I could hear him breathing. I wished I could smell him. His voice lowered to a whisper. "I got made the other day. The mark took off running because he got nervous. Kids aren't supposed to make people nervous." He sounded annoyed, and a little scared of the truth.

He isn't a kid anymore. Teenagers absolutely make people nervous. Scotty was entering a new phase of his life.

"So, anyway," he continued, "I'm hoping that if the info is useful, you'll teach me stuff. New methods."

Ah. He wanted to learn about guns. He was going to have to stop doing close-in work.

"And?" I pressed.

"And… " he grudgingly admitted. "If Leone is dead, he can't put me to work. He's the only game left in town, other than the crappy whiners who really don't want it done right."

Good. The kid's got some pride in his work. He's right. Most people don't want to let an assassin do his job. They want input. That leads to mistakes.

"Let's say I believe you," I said, as I turned randomly onto a residential street. "Can your friend ID the guy for us?"

"Um, I took a few liberties," he said nervously. "I was going to just… well, but no go. I can't do the guy. He's too good. He made me in a heartbeat. I just barely got out. But I've got him set up to do. Sally's already got a date with him for tomorrow. He'd wanted it earlier, but she stalled. He's coming to her place, or what he thinks is her place. There's a parking garage across the street that closes at 10:00. Her appointment is at midnight." He paused and when I didn't respond, he hurried on. "It'll check out. I promise. Put in a good word for me. I know you can find me if you're willing to show me a thing or two. Thanks."