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“What is your daughter’s name? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“I don’t mind at all,” he smiled, engaging the alarm and locking the door behind them. “Her name is Cassidy. Do you need me to get you a taxi, or do you need a ride home?”
“Oh, no. Thank you, though. I just live up the street.”
“Well, forgive the old man in me,” he grinned, “but I’ll walk with you until you’re in your building.”
“O-okay,” she nodded. Islip stared at the young girl, thinking how very pretty she was. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“You are the quietest woman I’ve ever met, Casey,” he laughed. “Most of the women in the kitchen can’t seem to shut up long enough to finish their dish.” Casey actually laughed at that, having learned how right he really was.
“I noticed that they like to chat. I’ve never been much of a talker, but that hasn’t earned me a lot of friends either.” She stopped, pointing up at a building. “This is me. Thank you for walking me home.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow at noon,” she said.
“Oh, tomorrow I have a commitment. I always come in later on Wednesdays. If you need something, just ask Talbot or Marks. They’re great.”
“Okay,” she nodded. “Thank you again.”
“Goodnight, Casey.”
“Goodnight. Wes.”
CHAPTER SIX
Ghost and Ian reviewed the requests for Gray Wolf, placing them in piles of no, maybe, and yes. Doing details for the military, taking on government contracts, and saving the world seemed almost easier than this.
“How do we turn this away?” frowned Ian, raking his fingers through his thick gray hair. The others stared at him as he read the e-mail.
Dear Gray Wolf, my father is eighty-one years old, living on a fixed income in a small apartment in Metairie. His landlord recently decided to increase the rent to an unattainable amount, no doubt to push my father out. His heat and water have been cut off, which is included in the rent. He is legally blind and unable to read notices, which they continue to send in paper form beneath his door. I live and work in another state and cannot afford to come down there at this time. I need help. If you’re unable to give it, could you kindly refer me to someone else? Anyone! Any help with this would be appreciated.
“Fucking assholes,” muttered Ghost. “I’ll go up there with Max and see what we can do.” He took the e-mail and folded it, placing it in his pocket.
“There’s Max,” said Ian, nodding at the window. Max came in, giving a smile and nod. A huge bastard, Max was one of the many good ones on the property. Married to Riley, one of their surgeons and researchers, they’d been a part of the team for decades now.
“What’s up, assholes?”
“Hey, Maximillian,” smirked Ghost.
“Don’t call me that,” he frowned. “Worst fucking name ever.”
“Wanna go for a ride?”
“Sure. What’s up?” He handed him the letter, and Max read it, his face screwing into a mask of anger and disgust. “Yeah. I’ll go with you. Weapons allowed?”
“I’m not sure we’ll need them,” laughed Ghost, “but we can always carry. Just in case.”
“What about you?” Max asked Ian. “What are you going to do?”
“Callan, over at the tattoo shop, has been seeing an influx of young kids, all over eighteen, but still. They’re legal to get tattoos, but they’ve all been to some hack in the city. They ask for something very specific, and no matter what they ask for, he’s tattooing them with random gang markings.”
“Why don’t they just use social media and tell the world so people stop going to him?” asked Max.
“He moves around. Literally sets up shop on the street, which we also know is illegal. Stupid fucking kids,” said Ian, shaking his head. “Let’s just see if we can find him. Give him a little warning.”
“What’s he trying to do with the gang tattoos?”
