CHAPTER TWELVE: BAD GIRLS
Mary Briggs was the type of women who relied entirely too much on her gun.
Dylan could have used that.
The teachers that Charlie had commissioned to 'get her into shape' after he had recruited her had always stressed that Dylan could never rely on anything but her body.
However, her body wasn't tied to a chair or hanging from a noose or anything useful that Dylan could have used to get herself out of this, and instead of a bad guy teasing her with her hand on the butt of the gun, it was an LAPD officer.
Dylan was understandably and slightly scared. She was stuck in a Catch 22, and the only thing that raced through her mind was to keep Mary talking. The older woman was big on ego, and that, like any weak spot, was easily exploited.
"I'm sensing there's a little more of a personal investment here," she began slowly.
"Now, why would you think that?" Mary asked, twirling the cane, offering a distraction as it flipped into the air, allowing her to catch it easily.
"Oh, I don't know..." Dylan let her gaze rove over her body, keeping her own posture relaxed, easy. A small, self-assured smirk floated to her lips. "Middle-aged cop, a little out of shape – probably runs five miles a day and keeps her ass purely off carbs – but it's never enough. Smart and good at her job, but stuck in a rut, and inexplicably weak when it comes to her lovelife."
Mary's smile was slowly faltering.
"And then there are these girls. Younger, prettier, smarter. With boyfriends and money, and more respect that you'll ever have-"
The gun was out, leveled on her as Mary cocked, face stone cold. "You trying to get me to want to kill you? It's working."
The barrel was trembling, which was exactly what Dylan hope. One second of time, one moment Mary could lose control, and Dylan could move in.
But Mary, face scarlet with suppressed rage, was nicely disciplined. She took in a ragged breath, and carefully, slowly, brought herself under control.
"But that's not my job." She tossed the cuffs, whipping them so they landed against Dylan's chest with a painful clang. "Put them on, I'm getting tired of this."
Dylan dangled them from one finger, cocking her head in mock puzzlement. "I didn't see any squad cars out there. I know a little about this business, a sting like this would have required back up."
Mary smiled. "Who said we're going to the cops?"
--
Alex swore, God was punishing her for all her ice-cold frigidness regarding Jason. All the judgment that had been reserved was now heaping down on her.
She was going to die, and the Thin Man was her reaper.
"Natalie..." she breathed in heavily.
"Don't mind me," she heard from the backseat, a tight tone that was seeped in fear. "For once I'm glad you always call shot gun."
Alex sucked in a gasp, checking for the third time that her seatbelt was tied as the Thin Man continued to swerve and nearly sideswipe every car on the 405 freeway.
When the line of traffic slowed down for an accident, he took a calm drag of his cigarette, and slid into the shoulder, nearly riding the wall before he narrowly avoided colliding with a big rig. Another screech, another honk they were on the open road again.
"I'm gonna die," Alex whispered. "I'm gonna die."
And then things got completely surreal.
The Thin Man, taking advantage of about ten feet of free space, reached for the CD Player, and pressed play.
When Frank Sinatra began to sing, he very nearly smiled, nodding his head before swerving into another lane and pushing a little blue Jetta out of the way.
Alex blinked in disbelief, craning her head to look at Natalie, who stared back in complete bewilderment.
"This is it. I'm not dead. I'm in the Twilight Zone."
--
"Exactly what do you want with me?" Dylan asked, drawing the sheet closer around her. "If you don't mind me asking."
Mary shrugged, keeping the gun centered on her. "I'm just doing what I'm told."
"So now you're a lap dog?" Dylan retorted. "Excuse me for thinking you were your own woman."
"Easy mistake to make," Mary replied. "There are no independent people in the LAPD. Everyone answers to someone else."
Dylan smiled morosely. "So are they any ethical people in law enforcement?"
"Sure," Mary replied. "I used to be one of them."
"Let me guess," Dylan said, moving as carefully, subtly as she could toward the bed, where Mary had tossed the cane once she tired of it. "Wide-eyed, full of dreams of saving the innocent, really making a difference, and one case soured your life."
"Try getting black-balled after busting a ring that implicated so many celebrities I nearly got thrown in jail." Mary shrugged. "It was either join the club or be a cop in jail. I chose the lesser evil."
Dylan's small smile twisted in response.
Mary blew out her breath, uncocking her gun with a click. "Don't try to get into my head, Sanders. I know what you're doing. You won't get anything out of me. I know a lot more about you than you do about me."
"Oh, really?"
"Sure, Helen. Joined the police academy for about ... oh... a day, before you got kicked out for punching out the Sergeant. You could never be me."
"I would never want to."
"Oh? And where has all your do-gooding got you?" Mary asked with a chuckle. "You're sleeping with a killer, you're on the run, and you're alone." She nodded to the cuffs. "Put them on, get your things, and let's get out of here, I'm done talking."
"But we just got started."
Dylan's heart became dangerously close to bursting when the familiar voice spoke up behind her.
Instinctively, she looked back, immediately placing two women and one man who seemed to have appeared out of thin air, moving into the motel room.
Dylan fought to control the smile that loomed on her face as Natalie and Alex came to stand beside her, dark dangerous expression reserved for Mary Briggs. Anthony, walking carefully on the fringe of the activity, took a long drag of the cigarette, hawk eyes on her obsessively.
"I would keep that hand right where we can see it," Alex said softly, her veiled threat ever more effective with the small smile painted on her face. "Your gun won't be much use to you against all three of us."
"Or one of us, on a good day," Natalie said, crossing her arms.
It took Mary a moment to agree. She stayed in place, gaze zooming to the faces of each woman, before she slowly drew her hand away from her gun.
"Dylan," Alex said firmly, "We're leaving."
At this, Mary shook her head, frustration and amusement coupled on her face to create the most unusual expression. "You're insane. Do you know what you're doing? With one call I can have every cop, every FBI officer, even the CIA on your trail. Your lives would be over."
Alex stepped forward, cold steel in her face. "Would you really like to get on our bad side?"
It was no surprise that Alex could be intimidating as hell when she wanted to be. It was an especially effective gift, and had served them well the time they had to go undercover in the S&M club.
Mary's smile faltered.
"One phone call," Natalie added, all syrupy sweetness gone, even as every word was spoken with polite enthusiasm. "We could have you thrown in jail for blackmail. Obstruction of justice. Lots of fun stuff. Trust me. People owe us favors."
"We have saved the world once or twice," Dylan added, head tilting in reminiscence.
"Try thirteen," Alex said crisply, staring straight at Mary. "In the last year."
In the seconds that followed, Dylan managed to sneak one look to The Thin Man. Anthony's gaze burned into her. Settled on the bed, he was massaging at his cane, fiddling on the handle. When she narrowed her eyes in curiosity, he jerked the tip and looked meaningfully at Mary.
Dylan's eyes widened. With an emphatic jerk, she shook her head no, glaring at him for even suggesting it.
"You have no proof," Mary ventured after a moment, bringing Dylan's attention back to her.
"Do you really think we won't find any?" she asked bemusedly.
Mary grinned. Craning her neck, she studied Anthony, who sat calmly, smoking.
"You keep hanging out with a murderer, I won't need it."
And of course, then he snapped.
With a clang, the sword was out of the cane, flashing toward the cop with a deadly swing.
"ANTHONY! NO!"
The blade stopped, inches away from Mary's flesh.
It left the cop frozen, mouth dropped open in surprise as she stared wide-eyed at the blade.
Without thinking, Dylan rushed forward, leaving her friends to step in front of the trembling wild man, cane still outstretched toward Mary. With a soothing smile, Dylan placed a gentle hand on his palm, pushing slowly down until it was safely pointed toward the floor.
"It's okay," she whispered, massaging at his arms, up to his shoulders.
The smug expression disappeared from Mary's face. Beaten for now, she stood her ground, nodding her head in mock defeat.
They had time. But not for long.
"Guys?" Dylan managed, pressing palms to Anthony's cheeks, staring intensely into his eyes. "My clothes?"
"Nice boots," Alex commented, reaching down to gather one, locating the other under the bed.
"I like them," Dylan said with a wink. Alex rolled her eyes, stuffing them under her armpits, and leaning down for Dylan's jeans.
"How did your bra get all the way over here?" Natalie asked, wrinkling her nose as she plucked it from the top of a lampshade on the other side of the room.
At that comment, Alex shot Dylan a scathing glare. Dylan at least had the grace to blush.
Anthony's breath was loud, audible. His gaze shifted from glaring murderously at Mary to staring carefully at her. Slowly, delicately, he gathered her hair into his hands, coming down to press her forehead against his, breathing her in with a delicate shudder.
"Um... guys?"
Dylan broke the moment, lifting her head to find Natalie and Alex waiting impatiently at the door, her clothes and belongings gathered between the two of them.
"Sorry," Dylan said automatically. Grabbing a hold of Anthony's hand, she led him toward the door. "Let's get out of here."
"Anthony." Mary's comment was full of smug anger, and it caused the Thin Man to falter at the door. She grinned. "I'll see you soon."
Dylan didn't wait to see his reaction.
She pulled hard, moving him out the door, and trailing down the stairs after her friends.
--
In the Townsend Agency, a phone began to ring.
It rang twice, three times, a cheery sound that, when answered, came with a cheery greeting.
"Good morning, Angels!"
Bosley sat dumbly, legs splayed out on the couch, staring at the speaker phone.
"Mornin', Charlie," he said nervously.
"Bosley? Where are the Angels?"
"Well, uh... Charlie?" Bosley shifted on his seat, rubbing at the sweat that had started to pebble on his forehead. "I... maybe I should just play you the message."
"Message?" Charlie queried. "What message?"
"Uhh..." Bosley fumbled for his cellphone, beeping in numbers, and going through the prompts. "This one," he said finally, placing it close to the receiver.
"Hi guys! It's Natalie! How are you! Um... well, we found Dylan, and Mary seems to be a bit of a two-timing bitch, so... long story short? We're kinda on the run. But we'll fix it! I promise! And we'll find the bad guy, and we'll do everything we're supposed to do, we're just... kinda on the run right now, and on the freeway, and we're not supposed to talk on the cellphone on the freeway, so... we'll be in touch! Sorry, Charlie! We'll fix it, I promise!"
The phone clicked off.
Charlie was quiet, taking in Natalie's chirpy message for processing.
"Bosley?" he said finally. "Can you please explain that?"
"Uh..." Bosley scratched at his head, shrugging helplessly. "They found Dylan, they're on the run, and Mary's the bad guy?"
"Why am I no less confused?"
"Welcome to my world, Charlie," Bosley muttered. "Welcome."
--
Natalie plucked the ear plug out of her ear, handing the phone to Alex, who closed it with a snap.
The aura in the Thin Man's vehicle was decidedly tense, and this time, it wasn't from the driving.
Alex, currently engaged at staring murderously at the Thin Man tapped at his dashboard, long fingernails creating dull clicks.
The Thin Man could have cared less about her obvious annoyance. He had eyes for no one but the lost Angel they had just rescued. One hand buried in her hair, and the other slipping about her back, almost as if he was entertaining some reality where Dylan had already been lost, and he was just trying to reassure himself of her presence.
Dylan displayed a little patience for his pawing, gently pushing his hands away before shifting with a grimace. There was no time for modesty as the sheet pooled around her waist, revealing an ample bosom Natalie had always envied and a large, ugly bruise stretching down her side that made her heart ache.
Reaching for her shirt, Dylan's eyes met Natalie's in the rear view mirror.
"So," Alex asked, still tapping unconsciously in time to the music. "What now?"
Natalie's eyebrow arched as Dylan blew an uneasy breath out.
She had no idea.
--
The Dodgers were losing. Again.
Jason groaned, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration as Victor Alvarez managed once again to walk another player.
"Oh, come on!" he snapped, throwing the closest thing available (his popcorn) at the screen. "You can do better than that!"
"Tough game?"
Pete, hands in his pockets, smiled modestly as he stepped into the room.
"Pete!"
"How ya doing, man?" Pete asked, clapping hands companionably before slapping his back in a manly hug.
"Sit down, sit down!" Natalie's live-in boyfriend grinned, pulling out a chair and settling into it. Jason happily smiled back. "Can I get you something? Ice water? A soda?" He picked up a small object. "I got a little bell!" He demonstrated. "I can shake it - and the nurses will get you whatever you want."
Pete laughed. "No thanks, I'm good. Just wanted to see how you were!"
Jason sighed, motioning with frustration at the television. "Sometimes I think I'm a glutton for punishment, following these guys."
Pete glanced up at the screen. "Yeah, that is quite a gamble."
Jason shrugged. "You hear from the girls?"
"Actually why I'm here. Natalie asked me to take the day off, spend it with you."
Jason's brow wrinkled. "What," he chuckled. "Like a babysitter?"
"More like a bodyguard," Pete corrected.
Jason laughed harder. "You?"
"Hey, I know some moves!" Pete replied, striking a pose. "Had to, to learn to keep up with Natalie."
Jason shook his head in morose amusement. "I know what you mean. I can't tell you where I'd be if it wasn't for the safety word." Pete grinned, and Jason blinked, suddenly remembering where he was. "Right," he mumbled, picking at his thin hospital gown. "No better off, I guess."
"You'll be allright," Pete said warmly. "I'm sure Alex would be here herself if they weren't out doing their thing."
"Charlie?"
"No, actually." Scratching his head in confusion, Pete shrugged helplessly. "More like 'Dylan'."
"Dylan?"
Nodding, Pete helped himself to a kernel of popcorn. "Well, you heard she went rogue on them."
"Alex mentioned something, didn't seem to want to elaborate."
"Yeah. Fell for a guy."
"The bad guy?"
"Yeap."
Jason nodded absently. "Yeap, sounds like her- NO!" He groaned, shaking his fist at the television as the bases were loaded with a particularly lucky single.
"So they went after her, found her, but there's this crooked cop-"
"Mary?" Jason asked, eyes on the television.
"Yeap."
"Yeah. She was definitely shady. Oh, yeah!" he grinned as the catcher crashed into the batter, yelling gleefully as the umpire declared him out. He pumped hands up in the air, then immediately lowered them as he winced, holding his side. "Ouch."
Pete grabbed another kernel of popcorn. "They're on the run now."
Jason finally glanced away from the television. "What, all of them?"
"Yeap."
Jason blinked, shaking his head. "Tell me something, you ever think your girlfriend might be a little crazy?"
Pete shrugged, taking in a relaxed sigh. He had given it some thought, and after that went nowhere, he simply settled for washing his hands of the whole thing. "Sometimes. Then I figure since I'm crazy about her, we're just a little even."
"Nice," Jason said, grinning.
"Yeap." Pete and Jason exchanged a high-five.
They both fell silent, watching the game.
"Dylan's new guy. Maybe we should make him feel welcome next time we see him."
Pete, engrossed in the game, nodded enthusiastically a few minutes later. "Yeah! Sure. Invite him to a barbeque."
Jason nodded, passing the bowl. Pete grabbed a handful.
"Wait." Jason blinked. "Do bad guys like barbeques?"
Pete considered. "You know, I don't know."
They stared at each other.
Finally both shrugged, and turned back to the game.
--
There was about five minutes of silence, as each Angel tried to gather their thoughts.
Dylan's only sounds were hisses and jolts, as Anthony, still engaged in the weirdest behavior Alex had seen since the day they met, now tried in his awkward gentlemanly finesse, to help Dylan get dressed.
It was with effort that Dylan's bra went on, cramped in the small backseat with the top up, followed by the shirt. He was rough and gentle at the same time, an odd combination. With intense, angry eyes, he slipped on the shirt, pulling her fingers through it, and pulling it into place hard.
It reminded Alex of pulling off a band-aid; harsh and painful, but done as fast as possible so it would only hurt for a second.
Natalie eyes on the road, flickered her gaze up to the rear view mirror, and noted Dylan's ribs with a frown.
"Are you okay?" she ventured finally.
Dylan glanced up in mid-grimace, locked in a weird pseudo embrace with Anthony, as she attempted to get her pants on. Natalie's eyes were almost liquid, top lip bitten in nervous anticipation.
"I'm fine," Dylan said after a moment. "I've had broken ribs before."
Alex glanced nervously between her two friends, while the Thin Man appeared to not have heard them at all, choosing instead to probe fingers at Dylan's rib cage, as if to ensure himself of that- not trusting Dylan to do it for herself.
"Yeah," Natalie agreed, voice somewhat husky. "But never from me."
Dylan paused, face unreadable for one, tense moment. With a pursed mouth, she twisted in the seat, moving with some effort over Anthony's lap to place a palm on Natalie's shoulder, squeezing gently as she slapped at Anthony's attempts to button her fly.
"Natalie," she said firmly. "Stop. It's okay."
Natalie trembled, but one hand lifted off the wheel to squeeze Dylan's palm, holding it to her face for a quick kiss against her fingertips.
When Dylan's eyes met Alex's, the Asian smiled tightly, reaching for the other hand, locking fingers.
Yes, shit went down and it was still going down, but in this car, in this moment – it was Dylan, Nat and Alex again.
That's all that mattered.
"Oww! Anthony!"
Dylan let go, forced to snap behind her, breaking the moment. Alex shuddered, eyes shifting back towards the road.
Well... it was all that mattered right that second.
Dylan, apparently, had been pinched in the side by the man in whose lap she was so cozily sitting. Alex snuck another glance. The more she got to know the deadly man, the more he came off as a bit of a brat. It seemed, he was miffed at being ignored.
Dylan certainly had an odd way of dealing with the seasoned killer.
She simply pinched him back hard, shook her head at him in a firm 'no' and smacked him lightly on the shoulder, as she would a misbehaving little boy.
Oh, Geez.
Alex's head zipped straight back to the front.
"So..." Dylan sounded nervous, now fully dressed and running one of Alex's combs through her wild hair, trying to get it under control as she settled against the Thin Man's chest.
There was an obvious intimacy in that gesture that made Alex unconsciously suck in her breath, tighten her grip on the handle of the passenger side door. She supposed that there was really no reason to hide that fact that Dylan had... for lack of a better word, screwed him from Natalie and her. It was startlingly obvious what had happened the night before, what with Dylan being plain naked when they entered, and the Thin Man acting like a deadly little rottweiler who had just been returned to his owner, afraid to lose his grip for more than a second.
Dylan had always been free with her sexual lifestyle, less reserved in every respect than Alex, and most of the time Alex envied that of her.
But this was still The Thin Man, a bonafide sociopath. And he was still quite possibly, more than likely, and really, really convincingly, a killer. He just wasn't ... available for sex. Or any hint of sex. And Dylan had made with the sex.
It still unnerved her. Quite a bit.
One look at Natalie told her she was feeling something quite similar.
"Do you guys believe me now?" she asked finally.
Alex, shaky in her reaction, twisted as well as she could in her seatbelt, trying to be as frank as possible.
"Well... no."
"Dylan," Natalie spoke up, voice firm now, "We weren't really thinking when we kinda ran after you with Anthony, but since we're all in this together now..."
"Look," Alex added, through gritted teeth, "He went with us to save you without thinking twice," she said, nodding to the man who might as well have been bristling at them both, rumbles covered by Dylan's body. "And if he's capable of that without trying to kill us, and since no one has died since he's been in your company, then we're at least willing to explore the option."
The beauty of Dylan's relieved, unrestricted smile alone was worth the consideration and effort it took for Alex to spit out the words.
"We still need proof, Dylan," Natalie said evenly, making an easy right that led them onto the freeway. "There's just too much of it going the other way-"
"Well, we know Mary's working for Seamus," Dylan said uneasily.
Alex blinked, narrowing her eyes as she leaned back over. "How do we know that?" Her eyes unconsciously went to The Thin Man's fingers, stroking Dylan's nape absently. Morbidly, Alex kept waiting for that inevitable pull.
"The lighter," Dylan said, apparently unconcerned about the possible assault on her red tresses. Instead, she sucked in her breath, eyes widening in some realization, before she slumped against his chest, palm slapping to her forehead. "She still has my lighter!"
"The lighter you lost?" Natalie asked, glancing up at the rear view mirror.
"Anthony stole it," Dylan explained, grabbing The Thin Man's hand as she attempted enunciate her point, slapping at it with each word. Her green/gray eyes flashed to meet his impassive face for a second, before she glanced back at her friends. "He gave it to me at the funeral, and I didn't know what he was saying with-"
"You knew he was there and you didn't tell us?"
"Alex," Natalie began, a warning note in her tone. Alex glanced over, and Natalie's message was clear. 'We just got her back. Don't start.'
"Sorry," Alex said, snapping her mouth shut.
Dylan swallowed, but at Natalie's nod, continued. "Anyway – that's what he was saying! In there, Mary saw it and said it was hers! The one who stole it first was Seamus! Back when he beat me in the alley!"
"That's just..." Alex licked her lips, frowning in her attempt to process the information. "Is there anything else?"
"She called me Helen," Dylan said matter-of-factly. Natalie's eyes widened, mouth dropping in an 'o'.
"Well," she said after a moment, "That's it, then."
"Good place to start," Alex agreed. "She did purposely lighten the security around the funeral and Jason's place."
Despite the attempt to be objective about it, a trace of her emotion must have gotten away from her, because both Natalie and Dylan kept their searching gazes on her longer than necessary. Alex swallowed, keeping her face stiff.
"I've got Pete over there," Natalie said soothingly. "At least we've got someone with him."
"Thanks," Alex said after a minute, smiling briefly at Natalie's reassuring pat.
Dylan, looking oddly guilty, only gave her a grave nod.
She was still looking out the window, absently playing with Anthony's fingers, when Natalie, after exchanging a nod with Alex, took a breath. "Dylan..."
Dylan blinked, brought back to earth. "Yeah."
"We still have a problem. There's just... too much evidence against Anthony."
Dylan's eyes narrowed, just as Anthony's jaw ticked.
It was a critical moment. Chances were, now that Dylan officially had a human band-aid in the form of a Creepy Thin Guy, they wouldn't get her alone until this was over.
And despite Anthony's obvious somewhat disturbing affection for Dylan, there was still... actions that needed to be addressed, and Dylan deserved to hear them.
Alex taking in a breath, took it over, voice almost apologetic as she kept her eyes on Dylan, purposely blocking the Thin Man out.
"The ballistic reports, the ones you were running?" Dylan gave an uneasy nod. "They came out positive."
Anthony didn't move.
The implications of that were measurable, and Dylan caught that immediately. At first, Dylan's face was unreadable. Then her eyes, previously blank, slowly darkened with awareness.
She wasn't subtle when she untangled her fingers from his, leaning forward with a grimace. "Do you have the results with you?"
Natalie shook her head, almost timid, in the palpable tension that had taken over the car. "Alex got there, and..."
"Anthony destroyed the reports," Alex finished. "The computer, the monitor – it's all gone."
It was damning. There was no way to change that, no way to see around it, and even now, Alex found a part of her wanted desperately, if only for Dylan's sake, to find a way to justify this, justify him.
But she saw, what she saw. And Dylan, mind rapidly forming her conclusions with every passing second, bore a passive face that was quickly turning to stone.
He must have seen it. There must have been something he had felt in Dylan's posture, because he knew when he lost his hold on her, he knew the second it happened.
Alex expected retaliation. She just didn't realize it would come about the way it did.
He completely lost control. His anger came in the form of a high pitched murderous scream, as he pushed toward the front, arms outstretched, reaching for her with every intention of strangling her.
"Dylan!"
But Dylan was already there, gritting her teeth to hold her place in the moving car, pushing at the off-balance assassin into the corner of the seat, and with the flick of a wrist, flashed a blade to his throat.
It was a terrible moment. Natalie swerved, ignoring the honks of the cars as she slid across four lanes of traffic to the only open shoulder on the crowded freeway. Alex, seat belt long torn off, was in a half seated, half crouched position, fully prepared to jump over if need be.
Dylan's expression was a haunting mix of fury and hurt.
Her eyes, blurry with tears, sparkled like jaded diamonds, her mouth trembled open, and there was a glint in her features that made the Thin Man suddenly hold still.
In that moment, Dylan would have killed him had he tried to fight back.
She tried to overcome herself. Her knife was placed deliberately just under his chin, in the place it would do the most harm, clipping at the artery. Her other hand wrapped around his neck, pinning him against the seat with a choking hold that had to be bruising his larynx.
"You lied to me," she whispered furiously. "You lied to me, and I believed you. Even when you tried to kill my friends I believed you."
He breathed heavily, nostrils flaring as he glared at her, like a dog cornered in an alley.
"And you were playing me all along," she whispered.
"Dylan," Natalie whispered. "Dylan, don't-"
"No, Nat- You were right," Dylan said crisply. Her voice, stained with tears, was uneven, too emotional to match the matter-of-fact words that were coming out of her now. "You were absolutely right. He's the bad guy."
"Dylan – he came with us to save you..." Alex couldn't quite believe that she actually defending his honor. "Creepy Thin Guy! Say something!"
He didn't. His gaze was infuriatingly defiant. It was an intense moment, Dylan's blade twitching against his skin, his chest rising and falling in angry gasps.
Suddenly he kicked out. Dylan flew back, and the car top was shredded by a blade disguised as a cane.
"Anthony!"
He was gone, vaulting over car hoods and flipping over the screeching vehicles as if he were Spiderman.
"Let's go!" Alex snapped, reaching for the car door.
"NO!" Natalie snapped. She held out both hands, keeping her friends in their places. "No. If he's not the guy, we have to prove it. If he is the guy, then going after Seamus will lead us to him. We can't get distracted. Right now there's not time."
Alex took in a slow, unsteady gulp of air, craning her neck back as she sat in his own abandoned car.
Frank Sinatra crooned softly on the radio, speaking of the gloriousness of love, the spell that had been placed over his heart.
And Dylan, angry tears splashing across her cheeks, merely wiped them off, clipping the knife back in her belt, settling back into the now empty seat with a wince.
"Fine," she began in a low, broken voice. "Let's go after Seamus."
Natalie, eyes sparkling with moisture, nodded, placing on her blinker dutifully as she pulled back into the traffic, leaving the Thin Man behind.
--
She found him two blocks away from the docks, standing in the shadows like a kicked dog, shivering in the rain and holding onto his cane as if it was all he had left.
Mary Briggs grinned. She was dripping wet, but at this point, she was past caring.
Holstering her weapon, she splashed her way to him, stopping a few feet away.
"Well," she began. "That didn't take long."
He looked up at her, blue eyes dark and hooded, staring at her as if he hated her. He was openly trembling, crouched against the brick wall, absorbed in what appeared to be a wet lump of dark red hair, plastered against his face.
"Aww, what's a matter?" she asked, settling on her haunches and moving a hand to his hair.
He slapped it away, hissing angrily.
"Fine, geez." Rising, she settled hands in her pockets. "What happened, baby. She found out? Now that's she's got her friends back, she doesn't need a little killer like you?"
He roared to his feet, hands on the handle of his cane, ready to strike.
"Oh, stop it. You almost had me convinced back at that motel, but this is just stupid." Mary shook her head, wiping her dripping tendrils from her face to blink through the droplets of rain. He swallowed, jaw set, eyes wild and blue. Mary blinked. "You would have, wouldn't you? You would have killed me. You were that scared." Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. "You thought that just because she screwed you she was going to not choose her friends? Please. History repeats itself, and if you haven't learned from your bosses, your slutty red-head will screw the bad guys, and then she has this funny habit of trying to kill them."
He was as still as a statue, face frozen in a deadly glare.
She grinned, features lighting up her face. "Oh, Anthony, you poor dear. You would have killed me out of sheer desperation because you were afraid she'd find out?" She considered. "You know we got reports of the Townsend Lab being ransacked - a whole room destroyed. That was you, too, wasn't it? You sick son of a bitch. Listen up – You're a killer. She's an Angel. They don't play with demons, they destroy them." She slapped at his head, and once again he screeched angrily. She laughed, jumping back. "Get your ass back to your boss, Anthony. He's been looking for you. Oh, and Anthony?" she paused, wiping rain from her face to give him her full smirk. "He heard about last night. And he's not happy."
She walked away, shaking her head in amusement as the Creepy Thin Man stood, drenched, lost, and deadly.
End chapter twelve