For the Fight
- Chapter One -
Jacob
I'd implied I was going to explore the streets in search of information about Marina's mystery man. Instead, the instant her and Kite had left, I'd shut my shades, crawled into bed, and given into the exhaustion that plagued me.
Nothing stirred me.
My dreams were fluid, pulling me down one path and then dropping me onto the next. I remembered little of them when I awoke. Only the siren's call of silky lips, wild eyes, and the gentle grooves criss-crossing open palms.
Snapping my eyes open, I stared at the ceiling and didn't see it. I was still longing for the warm embrace of my private thoughts. Reality was less welcoming. It gave me hunger and a headache.
Here, in my bed, there was no full-bodied woman.
No Marina.
Sitting up, I cradled my forehead and smiled cynically. She's done something to me. How else can I explain it? She was a stranger, but I felt like I knew her. Simultaneously, she was a mystery. I ached to take hold of her and peel back her veil so I could glimpse the gears that drove her along. The desire left me drained.
Throwing the blankets aside, I stumbled into my shower.
Routine would save me. It, alone, would keep that woman from burrowing deeper in my skull. As much as I wanted to understand the reasons for my growing obsession, I knew dwelling on Marina in any fashion would just increase it. Even if it got me to the root... the result was I'd never shake her out.
Scrubbing my arms for the third time, I eyed the suds in the drain. They were melting down, vanishing into the tiny holes. Soon, none of them would remain. Is that it? I wiped a palm over my wet hair. When was the last time I had anyone around for more than a few hours? Beyond even that... when had it been someone who recognized me for what I was? A killer, a meticulous monster.
I knew the answer to all those questions.
The only other person that understood my character, my flaws and sins, was Kite. There wasn't another living soul who understood what I was capable of. Until now.
Marina had been so keen. She didn't watch me with disgust, and she even reacted like I—on some level—captivated her. She certainly captivated me.
Twisting the shower knob, I turned it off. The water stopped dripping, but I remained standing there for a few minutes. My struggle to brush her aside had crumbled. As I'd feared, my thoughts had turned back to her and now they were stuck.
Well, I thought in defeat, If I'm pulled to her because she isn't scared of me, I can easily change that. Flicking water from my eyes, I wrapped a towel around my hips. I needed to get moving. There was a lot on my agenda.
Marina had told me about her family's massacre. I was certain I could use those details to narrow down who Frank's accomplice had been. It would mean potentially long, grueling hours on the street, but it was a start.
It was also the key to getting Kite and me out of her shackles.
You see, I'd figured out my plan. If that damn letter was in the bank like I suspected, it really came down to convincing her to hand it over to us. Getting her to comply meant playing hardball. That was something I was good at.
All I needed to do was find her mystery man. Then the power would be in my corner. If Marina wanted the information bad enough, she would have to trade. Hand over the letter, and I'd hand over the location of her desired revenge on a silver platter. If not, we'd go and kill him ourselves and rob her of the pleasure. I was betting on her own obsession being her downfall.
I still hadn't decided if I'd end her life right there, or if I'd let her go off on her suicide mission. I was leaning towards the latter, just to keep my hands clean. But the former was a guarantee. And I liked guarantees.
Digging my fist into the top of the towel, I stepped into the hall. My coffee pot was brewing already, the machine on auto-pilot. It was after eight in the morning. Later than I'd prefer, but the peak time for prowling the street was when it got dark. The hours until then were meant for research. I needed to find out where, exactly, the Copper Blades loitered.
Our information about Frank, when we'd been hired for the hit, had only said he wandered the park every Friday. That wasn't useful, now. My only lead was where Marina used to live. Gangs tended to stay in one territory.
In the kitchen, the glow of my tablet turned the marble counters blue. Marina had said she'd searched for information already. I didn't doubt her, I'd seen the newspapers collecting in her apartment with my own eyes. But when she'd hired us, saying we could find this man better than she could, she wasn't wrong. There were places Marina wouldn't know to look to find... unscrupulous information.
Grabbing a set of headphones from the drawer, I nuzzled the buds into place. The music I chose was classical, soothing. It'd help me focus as I scoured the web.
It took most of the morning, and two cups of coffee, but I found my trail of breadcrumbs in the expected location; the wayward recesses of the internet. I'd followed a link between drug dealers, sent out an anonymous request to buy some cocaine. That took me down another path towards a correspondence with someone willing to sell to me if I met them at the strip club on Fifteenth and Western. I'd heard of the place. A name like the Pink Factory shouted loudly about what they sold inside.
Jacob
I'd implied I was going to explore the streets in search of information about Marina's mystery man. Instead, the instant her and Kite had left, I'd shut my shades, crawled into bed, and given into the exhaustion that plagued me.
Nothing stirred me.
My dreams were fluid, pulling me down one path and then dropping me onto the next. I remembered little of them when I awoke. Only the siren's call of silky lips, wild eyes, and the gentle grooves criss-crossing open palms.
Snapping my eyes open, I stared at the ceiling and didn't see it. I was still longing for the warm embrace of my private thoughts. Reality was less welcoming. It gave me hunger and a headache.
Here, in my bed, there was no full-bodied woman.
No Marina.
Sitting up, I cradled my forehead and smiled cynically. She's done something to me. How else can I explain it? She was a stranger, but I felt like I knew her. Simultaneously, she was a mystery. I ached to take hold of her and peel back her veil so I could glimpse the gears that drove her along. The desire left me drained.
Throwing the blankets aside, I stumbled into my shower.
Routine would save me. It, alone, would keep that woman from burrowing deeper in my skull. As much as I wanted to understand the reasons for my growing obsession, I knew dwelling on Marina in any fashion would just increase it. Even if it got me to the root... the result was I'd never shake her out.
Scrubbing my arms for the third time, I eyed the suds in the drain. They were melting down, vanishing into the tiny holes. Soon, none of them would remain. Is that it? I wiped a palm over my wet hair. When was the last time I had anyone around for more than a few hours? Beyond even that... when had it been someone who recognized me for what I was? A killer, a meticulous monster.
I knew the answer to all those questions.
The only other person that understood my character, my flaws and sins, was Kite. There wasn't another living soul who understood what I was capable of. Until now.
Marina had been so keen. She didn't watch me with disgust, and she even reacted like I—on some level—captivated her. She certainly captivated me.
Twisting the shower knob, I turned it off. The water stopped dripping, but I remained standing there for a few minutes. My struggle to brush her aside had crumbled. As I'd feared, my thoughts had turned back to her and now they were stuck.
Well, I thought in defeat, If I'm pulled to her because she isn't scared of me, I can easily change that. Flicking water from my eyes, I wrapped a towel around my hips. I needed to get moving. There was a lot on my agenda.
Marina had told me about her family's massacre. I was certain I could use those details to narrow down who Frank's accomplice had been. It would mean potentially long, grueling hours on the street, but it was a start.
It was also the key to getting Kite and me out of her shackles.
You see, I'd figured out my plan. If that damn letter was in the bank like I suspected, it really came down to convincing her to hand it over to us. Getting her to comply meant playing hardball. That was something I was good at.
All I needed to do was find her mystery man. Then the power would be in my corner. If Marina wanted the information bad enough, she would have to trade. Hand over the letter, and I'd hand over the location of her desired revenge on a silver platter. If not, we'd go and kill him ourselves and rob her of the pleasure. I was betting on her own obsession being her downfall.
I still hadn't decided if I'd end her life right there, or if I'd let her go off on her suicide mission. I was leaning towards the latter, just to keep my hands clean. But the former was a guarantee. And I liked guarantees.
Digging my fist into the top of the towel, I stepped into the hall. My coffee pot was brewing already, the machine on auto-pilot. It was after eight in the morning. Later than I'd prefer, but the peak time for prowling the street was when it got dark. The hours until then were meant for research. I needed to find out where, exactly, the Copper Blades loitered.
Our information about Frank, when we'd been hired for the hit, had only said he wandered the park every Friday. That wasn't useful, now. My only lead was where Marina used to live. Gangs tended to stay in one territory.
In the kitchen, the glow of my tablet turned the marble counters blue. Marina had said she'd searched for information already. I didn't doubt her, I'd seen the newspapers collecting in her apartment with my own eyes. But when she'd hired us, saying we could find this man better than she could, she wasn't wrong. There were places Marina wouldn't know to look to find... unscrupulous information.
Grabbing a set of headphones from the drawer, I nuzzled the buds into place. The music I chose was classical, soothing. It'd help me focus as I scoured the web.
It took most of the morning, and two cups of coffee, but I found my trail of breadcrumbs in the expected location; the wayward recesses of the internet. I'd followed a link between drug dealers, sent out an anonymous request to buy some cocaine. That took me down another path towards a correspondence with someone willing to sell to me if I met them at the strip club on Fifteenth and Western. I'd heard of the place. A name like the Pink Factory shouted loudly about what they sold inside.