Page 83 of Marked
Cutberto’s Auto & Body is dark but for one open bay. Bright yellow lights flood the cracked pad, and the gravel driveway has deep ruts as we walk closer to the building. Loud reggaeton blares outward, and a truly off-key voice sings along. Gage raises a brow at me as we near the open door.
“Cutberto?” I call, gun tight to my leg. The voice falls silent. “Cutberto? I need to ask you a few questions.”
Something clatters inside, and I barrel around the frame as a dark clothed blur dives out a back window.
“Fuck.” I take off at a dead run for that narrow opening.
A Latin-American male with a torque wrench leans partially out from under the now familiar sky blue Camaro as I pass.
“Hey!” he yells.
I ignore him and fling myself between the narrow sills.
Rolling over bits of gravel and discarded auto parts, I come up to my feet in a narrow expanse of shadowed grass.
My head whips around as my eyes bleed to gold. There is little light beyond that, but the distant fleeing shape of a man is all I need for a direction.
I flit.
My body rams into him from behind and we fall to the ground. He twists beneath me. His lean frame is more bone than muscle as he tries to wiggle free from my hold. My elbow slams into his side with a precision clip meant to incapacitate.
He moans. “Fucking prick!”
I press my arm into his throat and lean. He chokes.
The light from my eyes highlights a sunken face. Narrow cheekbones, dark circles ... Fear. His hair is clean to a point of desperation, the color haphazardly dyed to black. But bits of red still peeks through.
“David James?” I ask.
He gurgles.
I relent enough for him to breathe.
That first gasp leaves him hacking beneath me. “Fuck–let me go. Please, let ... me ... go.”
“Can’t do that,” I tell him honestly. “Your car was seen leaving a known Brightex distribution center. I need your supplier.”
His brown eyes widen. “If he knows I told, he’ll kill me. You got to let me go.”
I lean a little bit farther in, careful to not impede his breathing ... too much. “Who? Who do you work for?”
He licks his lips. “Vlad Dracul.”
Chapter 36
Ruin
I shove Mr. David James into the back of the SUV in cuffs and lock the doors. He launches himself at the closed panel anyway, his eyes wild behind the tinted glass.
T and Gage remain inside the auto shop, arguing with Cutberto himself about taking the Camaro to impound. Apparently the mechanic has no qualms about doing the work on a stolen car, but he still wants to be paid for it.
My phone rings in the annoying beat of Mr. James’ insanity. I pull it from my pocket.
“Yeah?” I snap.
“The house has been cleared, Cap.” Horan damn near hacks in my ear, and something crashes in the background. “Place was wiped completely, but the fine edge of sage and flame in the air means our Vlad has a magick user on staff–”
A low hum fills my ears, digging into my skull like an ice pick. James slams against the window again, completely blocking out Horan’s words. I walk farther from the SUV, careful to keep that back door in view.
