to the hands of slavers, and go to a party. All in one day. This guy makes Jones look like a kitten.”
“Yeah. Jones never made us go to parties.” She ambled toward the escalator. “We should go. I don’t know how long this little production is going to take. We should do a few run-throughs. I think Jones has a house now.”
EIGHTEEN
ALL day, he hovered just outside her mind, never once trying to push inside, but just . . . letting her know he was there.
Dru could feel the soft, patient warmth of his presence, but she couldn’t do it right now.
Couldn’t risk it, not with the day she had laid out before her.
Soon, she’d have to do the stupid-ass party, but more important, she’d have a chance to work through Patrick’s social set again. It was there, that connection she needed. She knew it.
She’d find it somehow.
Everything inside her thrummed, hummed, burned. Ready and waiting, aching, just under her skin.
She’d felt like this before, more than once.
Just before a job got really hot. And it was about damn time. Which meant it was even more vital that she focus. With her mind carefully, tightly contained, she spent most of the day exercising, then meditating. She took a few minutes to slip out one of the concealed phones, make a call. Be ready—
Before Tucker could ask anything else, she’d hung up. It was harder than normal to dispose of it and in the end, she’d retreated to the bathroom and dismantled it down to bits and pieces, flushing it over a period of thirty minutes. Let the fucker think she was in there getting sick, she didn’t care.
A long, blistering shower, scrubbing away the very echo of Patrick’s touch. Then a hot soak, to relax, easing the relatively minor aches. She wished she could wipe away the deeper pains as easily, but she couldn’t.
A late lunch of soup and a sandwich, easy, simple food. Although she wasn’t at all hungry, she knew she needed fuel. Needed it to get through this day, to keep her mind sharp.
If she could get her hands on it, she’d be chugging some Red Bull or Monster like a camel at an oasis after a few weeks in the desert, but it wasn’t something kept in the small kitchen here and she wasn’t about to leave the room. She needed all the isolation she could get right now, all the seconds she could eke out of the day to focus her mind. Focus everything.
Soon . . .
She stared at her reflection in the mirror as she carefully applied makeup. As she swept her hair back from her face into a sleek, sophisticated knot. Very soon.
It was the only reason to explain this sense of hyperawareness, she knew.
Something would happen tonight.
Finally . . . something would pop on this damned job.
Soon.
But not soon enough.
* * *
THIS day couldn’t end soon enough.
Joss’s head ached. His lip throbbed. Dru still wasn’t talking to him. And this pussy was standing in his way. All Joss wanted to do was knock him out of the way and get this done, but somehow, he didn’t think that would leave a good impression on his “boss.”
“If you deliver damaged goods, the boss is going to have your ass,” the pussy said, his weasel-like face twisted in a scowl, his dark, nervous eyes darting all over the place.
That was Joss’s introduction to Whitmore’s team.
“What makes you think I damaged her?” Joss drawled.
“What, you want me to think you hit your face on the door this morning?” The little fucker sneered at him.
Joss ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, probing the cut Vaughnne had so kindly given him. Then he smiled. He was fully aware of just what sort of reaction that smile elicited. Getting bloodied didn’t help much, it seemed.
What kind of psycho did they find us this time?
Inwardly, Joss smirked. Oh, the worst kind. He continued to smile, watched as a shadow moved across the man’s face. Something about that face bothered him, but Joss couldn’t quite place it. Didn’t know what about him was so familiar.
Then the guy started to shift his hand to his waist.
I’ve got him going for the gun already. It wasn’t a record, but it was pretty damn close.
Joss dropped his gaze to the hand inching closer to the weapon he carried, still smiling.
If he drew it, they could have problems. But Joss was close, the man was nervous, and Joss was going to