Galilee Rising(20)

I glance up, more than a little uncomfortable and showing it. "There's no one. Really. My last relationship ended badly, and I am absolutely not in a place to jump into another one."

"Well, love has its own timetable. When the right guy comes along, it doesn't matter if you're busy, emotionally ready, or even looking, everything just falls into place. Can't fight fate, new best friend. I speak from experience. So, what's his name?"

"There's no one," I insist.

She pouts. "Fine. We obviously need a spa day or two to solidify this friendship before you share all your dirty little secrets." She smiles. "But I will get it out of you," she says, biting the watermelon and winking. "Then onto more neutral topics. Are you going to Rachel Mills' twenties party and who are you wearing?"



*



I return home an hour later with an appointment at a spa and another to go shopping for party dresses with my second new best friend. The odd thing is I don't mind. There's something about her I actually like, maybe her honesty. She's not fake, not playing games. It's refreshing, especially within the society set. I'm cautiously optimistic. At the very least there'll be someone at parties who doesn't look down at me.

I shower, change into jeans and camouflage top, braid my hair, and make my way to the command center. I once timed how long it took to get there from Justin's bedroom, and it came to four minutes. Seventeen thousand square feet. This house is too damn big. I really fucking hate it here, I really do. Besides the size, I'd swear the former Pendergasts are floating around, judging me, pissed to have an interloper in charge of their legacy. I should move into a townhouse or penthouse and turn this place over to the historical society for tours or just shut it up. Doris can be moved and set-up someplace more convenient. I scoff. Yeah, that's going to happen. Maybe in ten years I can let go. Until then…at least I get some exercise. And it's not so lonely anymore with my regular guests popping in all the time.

Lord Nightingale, in full regalia, is hard at work with Doris when I walk in. Wouldn't they be more comfortable in jeans and t-shirts? Wonder if they'll ever slip up and let me in on their secret identities. Doubt it. Justin kept it from me for twenty years and would have kept it for twenty more if a teenager hadn't let the cat out of the bag. Bastard. Both of them. "Howdy, stranger," I say as I stroll down.

The hero spins in the chair to face me. "Hello."

"Long time no see. Miss me?"

"Um, I-I-I suppose," he says, a little flustered. I seem to have that effect on people lately.

I lower myself into the chair beside him, and he tenses as he always does when I'm within two feet of him. "Good work on Casanov. I heard they added racketeering and facilitation of rape to the charges. Could we be any better at this? I think not."

"This is your victory more than mine. You did the majority of the work. We simply finished what you started."

"Well, I am so clearly awesome. Can't argue with that."

I think he smiles, but it's too quick to be sure. "And how-how are you doing? Liberty informed me what transpired a few days ago. You weren't physically injured?"

"Nope, not a scratch."

"And mentally?"

I shrug. "I had a massive breakdown in the hospital, but a fri--someone helped me through it. Nothing since then."

"Good." He pauses. "What you did was very brave. You're to be commended."

"Praise from Cesar. I'm flattered. Maybe I can get the club ring now," I say, stretching in my chair. His eyes dart to my pressed out chest then quickly spins to face the monitor. I'll let this objectification slide. "So. We took down a major crime boss. Let's not let the moss grow. What next, handsome?"

"I'm, um…" he shakes his head to clear it. My boobs are that great. "A large quantity of C-4, Semtex, and gelatin were stolen from a military base fifty miles from the city last night. What's worrisome is this is the second such theft in as many days. Both times they drove onto the base using fake IDs, incapacitated the soldiers on watch with one death, then drove off with the ordinance. The sketches the surviving soldiers provided of the culprits are generic at best. No one was really paying attention."

"Our tax dollars at work," I say. "How much did these guys get?"

"Enough to level several buildings. Best case scenario, they package it off and sell it black market."

"Worst, this wasn't for the money and whoever did it has a plan," I finish. "A fanatic with a grudge. Yikes."

"Yes. Yikes. The problem is with no fingerprints, unobservant witnesses, and no prior crimes with the same M.O. I am at a loss how to proceed. Tempest examined the scene but found nothing of use. It is a quandary."