Cat's Paw (Veritas Book 1) (14 page)

Chapter Fifteen

September 19th

Miri’s House

Miri woke from an unpleasant dream, one about dead cats and bloodstained hands that came out of the darkness to hurt her. She turned over, trying to get comfortable, but the mattress-on-the-floor thing wasn’t doing its usual magic.

The window air conditioner was off at Neil’s request, because he said it made it hard to hear the night noises. whatever that meant. The ceiling fan was just moving stale air with each turn. It didn’t help that her babysitter insisted she sleep fully clothed, except for her shoes. She’d gone for a tank top and shorts to take the sweating down a notch. He’d also insisted that they not be brightly colored or white, and she’d grumpily complied, wondering what kind of mind it took to think of things like that.

But the real reason she was having trouble sleeping was because the other person in the house was a male, and not her brother. A male that was as ripped and hunky as they came. A total stud. The universe was cruel. If only she’d met him at the bar, then everything would be cool. But no, he had to be
her bodyguard
. Which made him off limits, if she wanted to stay alive.

The Iceman had proven to be just as advertised: short on conversation, long on vigilance. He could ghost from room to room without making a single sound, and had scared the hell out of her more than once. He ate in silence and slept sitting upright in the living room, his position precisely calculated so he could cover both the front and back doors. He was always armed, a fact she’d realized when she caught a peek of him in the bathroom after a shower, towel around his trim waist, gun within reach on the counter.

Despite all that, Neil intrigued her because he was so unlike anyone else she’d ever met. A killing machine who hadn’t even told her his last name, though she’d asked. Twice.

At least he’s on our side.

Miri had just closed her eyes when she heard something move outside her window. It was faint, but there. A cat, maybe. It came again, more distinct now.

She bolted out of bed, but even before she made it to the door of her room, Neil was there, alert, his presence filling the doorway, Glock in hand.

She kept her voice low. “I heard something outside. It’s too big to be an animal.”

“I did too. Stay put. I’ll check it out. Can you shoot a gun?”

“Sure can.”

He bent over and pulled his backup weapon from an ankle holster under his jeans.

“It’s a SIG Sauer, so there’s no safety. There’s already a cartridge in chamber.”

Miri took the firearm. “I’ll watch your back,” she said.

“When’s your birthday? Month, date?”

Startled, she rattled off, “October tenth.”

“Then ten ten is the password. If I give you the wrong number, it means I’m a hostage. In that case, barricade yourself in the bathroom and call 911. Even if someone threatens to shoot me,
do not
open the door. You understand?”

“Ah . . . okay. Be careful.” What else could she say?

Her bodyguard gave her a stern look, as if that warning really didn’t apply to him. Then he was out the back door in full stealth mode.

How do you do that?
Even better, could he teach her that skill? Miri locked up behind him and wedged a chair under the doorknob for good measure. She’d barely turned toward the bedroom when something shattered the front window and rolled inside. The stench of gasoline reached her nose the instant before flames blossomed across the old wood floor. Some sort of homemade incendiary.

“Oh my God!”

Miri pounded at the flames with a couch cushion, but it only seemed to make them spread faster. She danced back so her clothes wouldn’t catch fire, then dug under the kitchen cabinet for the fire extinguisher. It had been discharged. She flung it away in disgust.

As the fire gained ground, gray-black smoke climbed upward. Ducking into the bedroom, Miri grabbed her purse, looping the strap across her body. While she called 911, she looked around, trying to decide what she could save. Then she saw it: the picture of Alex and her together at the park. She was five, he sixteen. It was the only photo of them from when they were kids. Miri grabbed it and jammed it in her purse.

The 911 operator came on the line.

“My house is on fire! Someone threw something in the window. I can’t put it out!”

Two distinct pops came from the backyard. Gunfire.

Holy shit.
“Someone is shooting at us! You’ve got to send the cops!” She gave the address, just in case the operator didn’t have it.

“Please stay on the line, ma’am.”

“I can’t. He might be hurt.”

She ditched her phone inside her purse and fled to the back door. Pulling the chair out of the way, she shot a look toward the front of the house. The couch was fully engulfed, and smoke rolled across the ceiling in a thick wave.

She had no choice—she had to go outside. She’d just pulled away the chair and unlocked the door when she heard more gunfire.

“Miri!” Neil called. Then, “Ten ten!”

She threw open the door, and her bodyguard rolled inside. Before she could move to close it, he was on his feet, kicking it shut and shoving her toward the bedroom. Seconds later, the back door was riddled with bullets.

“Jesus! What the hell?” she said.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. What’s going on?”

“We got three tangos. One’s down, but I couldn’t take the others out before they started the fire. You call 911?”

“Yes. They know we’re being shot at.”

“Then we hunker down as long as possible and hope the cops get here fast,” he said, his eyes watering from the smoke. A line of blood ran down his arm. He led her back toward the bathroom. The fire grew faster now, fumes and smoke roiling like a black serpent.

“You need to wet some towels and—”

“The door!” she said. The one behind all of Alex’s boxes that led to the other unit. “I can get us out of here.”

“How?”

She didn’t bother to answer, flying into her bedroom. She began tossing her brother’s storage boxes out of the way, sending his clothes and possessions in all directions.

“What are you doing?” Neil asked. He had his back to her, gun pointed toward the living room, though it was unlikely their hunters would bother to come inside. All they had to do was wait for her and her body guard to choose between being roasted to death, or being cut down in a hail of bullets.

“There’s a door to the other unit behind all this stuff. It isn’t locked.” Which was why she’d piled all the boxes in front of it.

“You never told me about that,” he said sternly.

“Yeah, well, I’m telling you now.”

Miri kicked the last of the boxes out of the way, Neil at her side. A fast glance toward the front room told her that the fire was about to go into a flashover: the point where the contents of the house became so hot everything inside the structure would spontaneously combust. Including them.

I’ll never date a fireman again
. You learned too much of the scary stuff that way.

“Me first,” Neil said, slowly edging open the door with a booted foot, his gun gripped between his two hands. His grim, soot-stained face promised swift death to anyone who got in his way. “Run silent, or they’ll figure out what we’re up to,” he whispered. The portal pushed away debris, leading to a spongy floor, rodent skeletons, and black mold.

Miri closed the warped door behind them, hoping it would offer a brief barrier to the flames. When she turned and walked through a spider web, she clamped her lips to keep from crying out.

“Is this side the same as yours?” Neil asked.

“Probably a mirror image. I’ve never been over here before.” The only reason she’d gotten the rent so cheap was because no one wanted to live next to a rotting hulk.

They crept through the semi-darkness, only patches of moonlight through the ruined roof lighting their way. Something crashed behind them, accompanied by a shuddering
whomp
as the fire outgrew the confines of Miri’s apartment. The beams above them began to groan in protest.

“This whole thing’s coming down,” Miri said.

Neil paused at the front door. “I’ll go straight out, you go left. Get off the porch and onto the ground as quickly as possible. If you see someone with a gun who isn’t in uniform, shoot them. Can you do that?”

“I’ll try.”

“On three.” He moved forward to the front door. “One . . . two . . . three.”

Neil kicked the door and rotting plywood out of the way, then rolled out onto the porch and onto the ground, coming to his feet with a grace that defied description.

Miri didn’t try that move, but sprinted out, moving left and off the porch as he’d ordered. She instinctively lowered her stance, trying to see where their assailants might be hiding. Was there one by the neighbor’s car?

Her hands shook so hard, she could barely keep the gun level.

“Down!” Neil shouted, and she dove for the ground as gunshots cut the air above her. He returned fire in two quick bursts. Bullets kicked up the dirt near her. She found her target, and her shots made the guy duck behind a car. Another cried out as Neil’s bullets hit home.

Sirens came to life nearby, making it sound as if all of New Orleans’s finest were headed their way. Miri almost cried with relief when a police car screeched to a halt near the house. Then another came from the other direction. Cops poured out of their vehicles, taking defensive positions. Right behind them was a fire engine, emergency lights slicing through the night.

“Place your weapons on the ground! Stand up slowly with your hands behind your head!” an officer shouted.

It dawned on her that the cops presented just as much danger as the bad guys, since they had no clue who the victims were here.

“Do exactly as they say,” Neil called out. “It’ll be okay.”

“Sure. Yeah, I can see that.” Miri’s heart went into overdrive, her breath coming in short gasps, eyes raining tears from the smoke.

With exaggerated slowness, her bodyguard placed his weapon on the ground, then slowly rose, hands tucked behind his head. He took two very deliberate steps away from the gun, to indicate that he was not a threat.

It was a suicide move if any of the killers had him in their sights.

“Now you! Do it!” the cop called out.

Miri mimicked Neil’s movements, shaking so hard it was difficult to stand. “That good for you guys?” she called out, growing angry now. “Because it sure sucks for me.”

Out of nowhere, Neil laughed, a welcome sound in the middle of all the chaos. “You got some balls, lady.”

She smiled back at him, still shaking. “You too, Bullet Catcher.”

The cops moved up, keeping them covered as firemen swarmed toward her house. It was obvious that there was no way to save it. At this point, they were just ensuring that none of the nearby houses were involved.

“Anyone inside?” one of them called out.

Neil shook his head. “No one else. There’s a body in the backyard. Gunshot victim.”

So he
had
killed one of their attackers. Miri found herself strangely not giving a damn about that. Out of prison for less than forty-eight hours, and somehow her dear brother had managed to screw up her life yet again.

But this time I can fight back
.

The cops moved them out onto the street as nosy locals in their sleepwear gathered along the sidewalks, staring at the sideshow that had set up camp in their neighborhood.

Looking back at her house, Miri swore. It was fully engulfed now, a huge, glowing pyre. She was told to lean up against one of the cop cars, then patted down by a female officer.

“You have a permit for that gun?” the woman asked.

“It’s in my purse.” Which was currently sitting on the hood of the car.

To her right Neil was told to assume the same position, and as he did so, he said, “There’s a knife in my right boot and extra ammo in my back pockets. My weapons permit is in my wallet.”

As one of the uniforms patted him down, Neil looked over at her. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Here’s where you say ‘I told you so.’ You warned me it wouldn’t be safe here, that someone would come after us.”

“I work within the parameters I’m given. Sometimes those parameters blow, because the person I’m guarding is too damned stubborn to listen.”

She deserved that. Her insistence that they remain at the house had almost gotten them killed. “I’m sorry. I’ll listen better in the future.”

He studied her for a moment. “Apology accepted.”

After a brief stint with the paramedics—some oxygen to help clear out their lungs, and a bandage for Neil’s wound—they were stuck in the backseat of a patrol car.

Miri gazed at the inferno. “Whoever did this will come back after us, won’t they?”

“Most likely,” Neil replied. “They’ll have to work a lot harder next time, because we’re going to disappear.”

She angled her head toward the cops standing near the car. “Really? I don’t think they’re just going to slap our wrists.”

“It’ll be fine.”

Miri looked at him. Neil showed no hint of emotion, no impending adrenaline crash, nothing. It was as if he were a robot in human skin.

“Are you sure you’re for real? Not some full-sized G.I. Joe action figure or something?”

He stared at her like he didn’t understand the question. She sighed, knowing she couldn’t get under his tough exterior. At least she’d heard him laugh just once.

“Okay, Iceman, we’ll do it your way this time. Just make sure I don’t regret it.”

*~*~*

Morgan’s eyes fluttered open, registering the sunlight slipping around the edges of the heavy blackout curtains. Morning already. They’d only had about three hours of sleep. Alex rested on his side, his broad chest up next to her, a hand lying across her stomach. He smelled of toothpaste and the ointment she’d used on his wound.

How long had it been since she’d shared a bed with a man?
Almost five years
. All because her husband had taught her a bitter lesson about trust. And damn her, she still loved Wayne, despite that lesson. Still missed him after all these years.