Page 15 of A Murderous Crow
I had always been into a sort of primal sport with women in the past. I liked the thrill of the hunt. The chase. I’d yet to be satisfied into complacency by any of them. I doubted she would wind up being any different, but I could enjoy things while they lasted until I grew bored.
I helped her rinse, made sure that she was warm, and kept her compliant. It was a trick getting her up out of the bath, but she did manage to stand on her own enough so I could dry her off and pull one of my shirts around her. She slid her arms through, and I buttoned around three buttons in the middle to keep her remotely modest, before I led her to my bed.
I folded back the blankets while she leaned on me as though drunk, and she crawled into bed willingly for me, scooting to the edge and promptly passing right the fuck out.
I let her sleep, and showered myself, pulling on a pair of lounge pants in time to my phone vibrating off the edge of the black marble counter and into my sink. I picked it up and answered Requiem’s call.
“Jag drives nice, but open up, fucker.”
“Be right down,” I said, looking in on my guest and deciding she was out and secure for now. I padded down the stairs and went out through the kitchen, across the courtyard, and hit the switch through the arch of the carriage house.
While the garage door worked its way up, I pushed my bike through and out into the courtyard so he could squeeze her Jaguar in beside my Porsche.
He barely made it out and around to me as I leaned the bike onto its kickstand as the door wound shut, sealing us into my little compound.
“We got a problem,” he said, and held out the rectangle of her license to me.
I looked at it. It was a South Carolina license, and sure enough, it readSavannah Kittridgeon it, but the address was clearly old.
“Where is this at?” I asked, tipping it toward Requiem.
“College dorm,” he said with a shrug.
“Shit’s that old?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said with a sniff.
“So, no clothes?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes and went back to the open door of the Jag and pulled out her purse, and a black paper bag from one of the designer boutiques around here.
“She’s taller than Mini-Syn, but she’s skinny as hell and damn near flat as a board where Mini-Syn is not, so they might be the same size… ish?”
“Madisyn for the win.” I sighed.
“Now for the big question on everybody’s mind…” he trailed off and gave me a flat look.
“She’ll keep her mouth shut,” I said.
“She’d better,” he said.
“She’s not stupid. She will,” I told him.
“She got a golden pussy?” he demanded.
“Don’t know yet.” I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest, the bag dangling from my fingertips.
“Fuckin’ A, Corvus. You’re not one to take risks,” he said and shoved her purse into my chest. I grabbed it to keep it from falling, and he dropped her keys in the top.
“New phone with all the tracking software is in the bag. You can activate it for her tomorrow,” he said.
“I’ve got this,” I told him, and tried to sound reassuring.
“Aliases, and old addresses… how we know she ain’t running?” he asked.
“I don’t,” I said. “But Idoknow her, sort of. I’ve been working across from her for over a year.” I shrugged. “I’ll find out.”
“Yeah, well, you better. This is way off the fucking reservation as far as you’re considered, and I, for one, don’t like it. Syn’s not worried – yet – but the big dawg is distracted these days.”
