“Who the fuck're you?” I ask.
“It's me,” the woman says, stepping closer into the light. “It's Andrea.”
I squint, and I realize that it is Andrea. The straight black hair, the almond-shaped eyes, but the same dark blue as Jackson's... “Well hey! It is you! How'd the hell you get here? Who's yur big friend?”
I blink, but in the dim light of the bar, I can't make out his face. “Who are you?”
“A man who owes you a lot more than I can ever repay,” he says. “Come, let's talk. Away from the alcohol.”
“My tab though...” I protest, and the bartender, who's been watching with a leery eye, waves me off. “What?”
“We're pay as you go,” he reminds me. “We're square.”
Andrea reaches into her pocket and pulls out another bill and puts it on the bar. “Just in case, and for taking care of her,” she says. Coming closer, she takes my arm and puts it around her shoulder. “Come on, Kat. How much did you drink, anyway?”
“I dunno... less than a bottle,” I say, swaying along with Andrea's help out onto the streets. It's later than I thought it'd be, the moon is nearly fully overhead. “Hey... what time is it?”
“A little before eleven thirty,” Andrea says. The sidewalk is mostly empty, but this is the beach area of Miami, and I guess along A1A, the traffic and pedestrians don't go to bed until much later. “Sorry it took us so long to get here.”
“How did you get here?” I ask, the clear air helping me at least not slur my words. The man stays behind me and Andrea, and I sense that he's giving us security. I wonder who he is.
“Well, after you called me, Jackson called Nathan here after you two argued, Nathan gave me a call. I figured it was enough of an emergency, I booked a flight and boogied while Nathan hauled ass in his Tahoe.”
“Nathan?” I ask, turning around. I recognize him now, Nathan Black. The bastard who helped my parents fake their death. My hand flashes out, catching Nathan in the face with a slap, but he takes it without even reacting. “I should try and castrate you.”
“You should... but there's a line on people who want my balls, Miss Grammercy,” he says softly, calm. His eyes are a strangely disconcerting green, giving him almost a reptilian look in the streetlights. “Besides, Andrea and I are here to help you. After that... you and I can settle accounts between us.”
“Fine,” I say, turning back around and almost falling. “Where are we going?”
“To where I'm staying,” Andrea says. “I don't know where you're at, Jackson didn't tell Nathan.”
“How'd you find me?”
“The Viber account. I called the number, did a GPS ping off the towers. It got us here, and we've spent the past three hours checking around.”
I nod. It's a good trick, and one that I should have thought of.
“Now, let's just get you out of here, and you get to meet Maverick.”
“Who?”
“My dog,” Nathan says with a touch of affection. “I'm glad we were able to find a place that's pet-friendly.”
“A dog, a half-Japanese business student, a former Green Beret... I pick such interesting people to hang out with,” I mutter, relaxing as Andrea helps me over to a taxi. I let it all go as the taxi pulls away, Nathan crunching in up front with the driver while Andrea comforts me. I know I cry, although Andrea doesn't ask me why, and Nathan stays quiet the whole ride. We end up out by the airport again, although on the other side than where Jackson and I were staying. Driving past a bunch of houses, I'm confused. “Where're we going?”
“AirBnB,” Andrea explains as we pull up to a house. “Easy, casual, and more anonymous.”
“Good idea. Shoulda thought of that myself,” I mutter, clarity starting to come back. I feel like an ass for losing control so much, and inside me, I can hear some of my instructors telling me off for putting myself in so much danger. I'm lucky that Andrea and Nathan wanted to help, and not put a bullet in my head. “I'm hungry.”
“There's food inside, and I'll brew you some tea,” Nathan says. “If you need to rest, we can. Then we'll talk.”
“I don’t need rest,” I reply as Andrea helps me inside. We're greeted by what has to be the biggest damn dog I've ever seen, who's bouncing and wagging his tail excitedly, barking loudly when Nathan comes in behind us, closing the door. The barks drive icy daggers into my ears, and I groan. “That's not a dog, that's a fucking horse. Oh, my head.”
“Maverick!” Nathan says quietly, snapping his fingers. The dog quiets immediately, and when Nathan points, he retreats, laying down in what I guess is the living room of the house. “Sorry, he's energetic after being in the Tahoe all day.”