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Little to zero, I thought grimly.
But with suspicion so evident in his aura and his eyes, I dared not open the gates again to my deeper seeker skills. I just had to run with instinct—and ignore the fact that instinct was telling me to get the hell out of Hedone and away from Sal. To return to the safety of my bunker and my ghosts, before my life irrevocably changed.
Not wanting to think about the reasons behind that warning when I could do so little about it without further raising Sal’s suspicions, I leaned forward and kissed him. If there was one thing that obviously hadn’t changed, it was his high sexual appetite. And in this situation, I had no qualms about using it, just as I’d used it countless other times when an assigned target had begun to ask difficult questions. There was little talk for the rest of the night, just exploration and pleasure, until we were both fully satiated and our bodies weak with exhaustion. Then we slept.
Or at least he did. I spent the night staring up at a ceiling lit by the never-ending brightness of the UV towers outside the building, wondering what the hell my next move was going to be.
Chapter 10
The sharp ring of Sal’s com unit broke the silence. I closed my eyes, pretending sleep as he grunted and rose from the bed. His gaze swept me, a cool caress that sent prickles of unease down my spine even as he moved away.
I remained still and listened to his retreating footsteps. After a moment, he said, “Sal Casimir.”
A deeper, darker voice—also male—said, “Pick up.”
Sal did, basically ending any chance I had of overhearing the conversation. I might have the genes of a tiger, but they weren’t helping in this instance. Sal was speaking so softly I could barely even hear him, let alone the man at the other end of the com unit.
With no reason to pretend I was still sleeping, I yawned, stretched, then got up and headed for the bathroom. Sal had the latest in air showers, which actually used small amounts of water mixed with air—a rarity these days, as water conservation had been a priority since before the war had begun. I wasn’t entirely sure why, given it seemed to rain regularly lately, but maybe it was simply a hangover from the many years of drought this area apparently once faced.
The call had ended by the time I padded out to the living room to find my tunic and get dressed. Sal’s expression was forbidding, and his gaze, when it met mine, was hooded and angry.
I paused and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
He waved a hand, the movement short, sharp. “Nothing. There’s just been a problem at another business I own. I’m afraid I’m going to have to bundle you out sooner than I’d expected or wanted.”
He was lying. I was certain of it, though there was nothing in his voice or actions to give that impression. “I hope it’s nothing major.”
“So do I.”
He strode toward me, all dark and dangerous energy, and it took every ounce of will to remain where I was. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me fiercely, but it was a desperate thing, absent of hunger or true passion. Then he released me with a suddenness that had me staggering back a couple of steps.
“I’d like to see you again.” He swung around and stalked across to the kitchen. “Shall we say tomorrow night?”
I frowned, unsettled by his abrupt change of mood and the lack of passion. That call, I was suddenly sure, had been something to do with me. Something he hadn’t wanted to hear.
I shivered and rubbed my arms. Of course, it was more than possible the certainty was nothing more than paranoia, but even so, I wasn’t about to ignore it. Similar such insights had saved my life more than once during the war.
“Sure,” I replied, keeping my voice even. “But you can leave a message at Old Stan’s if you can’t make it. I’ll understand.”
“I will. Until tomorrow night, then.”
He didn’t turn around, didn’t offer to see me out. After staring at his back for several moments, I headed for the lift and left.
Once I reached the street, I paused and breathed deep. The air was crisp and cool, and it chased the scent of dark silk and wrongness from my nostrils. I wished it could do the same to the scent that lingered—however lightly—on my skin. There was something about it that just rubbed me the wrong way.
Or maybe it was simply the knowledge that the Sal I’d known—the Sal I’d once trusted with all that I was, and all that I’d dreamed of—was no more.
I took another breath and discovered the teasing, electric aroma of a summer storm. Jonas was near. As I looked to the right, he stepped out from the entrance of the next building. He shook his head minutely, his gaze flickering briefly past me before he turned and walked away.
I yawned, then waited for a gap in the traffic and crossed the street, my gaze sweeping the glass fronts of the building opposite. I couldn’t see the threat Jonas indicated, but then, maybe I wouldn’t. If there was someone following me, it was a fair bet they’d be more practiced at concealing their presence than I was.
I paused as I reached the other side of the road a
nd glanced up. Sal stood near the window, watching me. I gave him a smile and a wave, but couldn’t escape the notion that something was very wrong, that I needed to find out what he was involved in, and fast.
I silently called Cat and Bear, then turned and walked away, keeping Jonas in sight but staying half a block behind. My two little ghosts appeared within five minutes, happily dancing around me for several seconds before calming down. I asked them to keep an eye on Sal without getting too close, and to report back to the bunker by sunset. They immediately dashed off, excited to be doing something new and interesting—another sentiment I wished I shared.
Jonas turned right onto a walkway heading toward Second Street but, as he did so, flicked a hand to his left, seeming to indicate I should keep going straight. I did, only turning right when I reached the next one. There was no one else in the walkway, and my footsteps echoed in the vast, empty canyon between the two streets. When I reached the end of the walkway, I turned left onto Second Street and casually glanced over my shoulder. There was no one there . . . and yet my skin crawled with awareness.
