Page 32 of The Chemist

Diesel pulled down his hoodie and glared at the car.

“Hey, you’re not allowed to break character. Get back into your stank-ass, druggy persona and appear like you’re looking to score some dope.” He was having way too much fun with this.

“You’re such a dick.” Diesel huffed back into the earpiece.

“You still owe me a blow job.”

“Hate to tell you, but I’m straight,” Diesel responded, turning his focus back to the man they were supposed to be surveilling.

“Keep telling yourself that, princess, and maybe one day your fairy godmother will bring you a pony as well.”

Twenty minutes went by with nothing but silence between the two. Zero was now working on a bag of jelly beans which was basically all sugar and gelatin—and oh, so fucking delicious. Only downside? They were chewy as hell! He grabbed the cap off a pen and began trying to pick the gummy from the bottom of his teeth.

Fuck, he wished he had his toothbrush with him.

“So, what kind of a name is Zero, anyway?” Diesel’s voice was low and sounded almost bored.

“It’s a nickname.”

“Meaning?”

Zero exhaled, thinking about the origin of his nickname. He wasn’t exactly proud of his past, but what could he do? In the end, it all came down to whether or not you learned from your past mistakes and how you grew from those experiences. He wasn’t a saint by any means, but he also wasn’t the monster.

“Zero, as in ‘zero patience.’ Let’s just say that when I was younger, I had a bit of an anger-management problem and went from zero to sixty in zero point zero seconds. People started calling me Zero, and the name kind of stuck.” He tossed the bag of jelly beans onto the passenger seat of his car and picked up the binoculars once again.

Their favorite person was inside the gym, presumably working off whatever calories he had consumed that day.

“What about Diesel? Was your dad a car buff or something?”

“Couldn’t tell you. Haven’t seen the guy since I was four, and my mom and I weren’t exactly the sit-and-chat kind of people.” There was a certain darkness in the words that Diesel spoke. Zero wanted to ask more, but he wasn’t sure how the man would react.

“So, if Zero is your nickname, what’s your real handle?”

Lowering the binoculars, he gave the back of Diesel’s head a smirk.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

13

ZERO

Two days had passed without making much progress on the Dr. Baasch front. Chase and Zero alternated surveillance methods, and thanks to Chase’s fancy new toys, Zero didn’t have to spend all his time sitting in his car watching the man outside his home.

It was just after eleven p.m., and Zero was busy scanning through surveillance video on his laptop—thanks to Chase’s new remote wireless setup—while Diesel and the guys were in the kitchen, setting up for a game of poker.

Zero had placed a hidden camera across the street from Dr. Baasch’s house so that he could monitor his activities from the comfort of the living room couch. Right now, there wasn’t much going on. The light to his bedroom was on, and he appeared to be getting ready for bed. Hopefully, that meant that Zero would be off duty soon.

In the kitchen, Jared laughed at something Diesel had said while Chase opened a bag of chips and poured them into a bowl.

He wondered how often they did this. Hang out together, shooting the shit. They seemed to be a close-knit group of friends.

Watching Diesel at the table, he seemed a lot more relaxed. His hoodie was down, and he barely seemed to check his phone.

Zero had started to notice that whenever Diesel was uncomfortable or didn’t like the situation, he raised his hoodie over his head and seemed to retreat into himself.

His hoodie seemed to be his safe place.

“Okay, I’ll deal,” Diesel announced, picking up the deck of cards and beginning to shuffle.

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