The Lost (Celestial Blues, Book 2) - By Vicki Pettersson Page 0,44
than one guard dog in the scrappy lot.
“Nothing,” Kit said, digging for her cigarettes. “Her stupid candle blew out and she went crazy. Sometimes illusion is stronger than reality.”
“What does that even mean?” Grif said, squaring on her.
Kit shook her head, lighting up. “Just something Josepha said.”
“So why’d she get so upset about the candle?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Let me just check my handy-dandy pocket guide to religious cults.”
“It’s not funny, Kit. I get the feeling that if Baptista had waved to his buddies with his right hand instead of his left, we’d be locked in the side yard with that mutt.”
Kit frowned, turning serious as well. “Baptista told you the Russians are dangerous, but so is he. I can feel it.”
“Yeah? Your phone tell you that?” Because pulling Baptista’s information up while still in his house had also been dangerous.
She held the damned device up again, where the same stony gaze he’d just faced was frozen again. “Yes. Marco Baptista. Served four years for armed robbery and possession of narcotics. I can’t dig deeper until I get back to the office, but I bet there’s more on his sheet than that.”
“Do you really think he’d knowingly allow this junk into his own neighborhood?” Because Grif couldn’t see it. If Baptista considered Vegas his city, how much more possessive would he be over his personal stomping grounds?
Grif glanced back at Baptista’s posse. Dollars to doughnuts, each of them lived nearby. Would they all just stand around and watch their friends and families get strung out on something like krokodil?
“No,” Kit finally said, following his glance and thoughts. “But I can’t help but think ‘his’ city would be a lot better without him, too.”
“Good.” Turning back to her, Grif shoved his hands in his pockets. “Then I won’t have to worry about you sneaking down here for more information. Besides, we’ve got our tie. He knows Sergei Kolyadenko.”
“And?”
“Doesn’t seem to like him.”
Kit blew out a hard stream of smoke. “And the woman?”
Grif shook his head. “Same info. Lots of wigs. A new face in the crowd . . .”
And suddenly Kit had flicked her light away, and was crossing to the other side of the car. The pool at the Shangri-La Apartments sat still and clouded behind her, murky enough that even the sun’s relentless rays couldn’t penetrate more than an inch beneath the surface.
“Where are you going?”
Grif hoped Kit’s answer would be one Baptista would like, because Luis was still loitering, listening intently, and Grif had a feeling it’d reach Baptista’s ears before Kit was even out of sight.
“If heaven isn’t going to help, I will,” Kit called back, not caring who heard. She paused with one foot inside the vehicle, one out. “I’ll flush the Russians out like quail in a thicket.”
“How?”
She leaned forward, one arm resting on the soft top. “With words, Grif. I’m going to write it down, then write it up. These dealers might operate in the dark, but I have the power to bring it all to light.”
Grif crossed to her quickly, dismayed to note a good half-dozen people staring at them, including Luis. “You sure that’s wise, Kit?” Grif said, voice low as he reached her side.
Squaring on him, she lifted her chin. “I don’t run away from my problems by sticking a needle in my veins, so I’m not vulnerable to these people. But these kids,” she said, motioning to the trailer where Tim’s and Jeannie’s bodies had been found, then at Luis and the others gathered on the street, “they are. And no one, including your high-and-mighty feathered friends, is protecting them.”
Grif winced, because she had a point. “Fine, but you are vulnerable.”
“You mean Scratch.” She swallowed hard at his nod. “I can control my emotions, Grif. I’m in possession of myself.”
“I know that.”
“Good. Then let me work on this in the only way I can. I . . . need that.”
Grif shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. Trying to discourage her would only stubborn her up anyway.
Kit bit her lip. “Look, I know there are boundaries you can’t cross, that they come with the halo and wings, but don’t forget what it is to be human. It’s impossible for me to see all that we have and not try to help.”
“I know.” It wasn’t in her nature not to help. “And I’m doing the best I can, too, doll.”
She hesitated, then folded into him. Nothing had changed. The world was still hard, the danger still there, but as always,