as she crossed the street. She was clearly visible in the one streetlight before she got into a car parked on the sidewalk right below Mark’s window.
Sure looks a lot like Macey.
Portia.
He frowned at the name and watched as she took off like a bat out of hell.
Because she feels guilty she drugged me.
Say what? The thought slipped through his fingers, so he drank another can of caffeine overload and put a call in to a friend. His old army buddy, Ben, answered on the second ring.
“Hey, fucker, how come you’re not online yet? I thought we were playing at eleven.”
Eleven. But it was only—his gaze slewed to the clock, and he saw it creeping past the eleven-thirty mark.
And wasn’t this the wrong day of week? It’s… Monday? Thursday?
This wasn’t a blackout. The gritty texture in his mouth, and the slippery threads of memory only confirmed it. “Ben, I need your help. Something happened to me.”
“What?” Ben’s voice turned serious.
“I don’t know.” Ted seriously didn’t remember. “It’s like something is messing with my memories. Hiding them from me, like with a heavy curtain.” A fog. It sometimes thinned enough for him to see, but mostly obscured, making him freak out a bit.
“Drugged?”
“Feels like it.” He rubbed the back of his hand, felt a twinge and looked down to see a needle mark pinpricking the skin. “I think someone injected me with something.”
“I’m not surprised. I was going to warn you about her when we played.”
“Warn me about who?”
“Portia Stalone, aka Tiger Mom.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“You don’t remember sending me a message last night, asking me to look into Portia Stalone? She’s a chick you used to know as Macey Munroe.”
“Macey? Macey’s dead.”
“Not according to you.”
Ted rubbed his forehead, the fog thick on his memories. “Better tell me what you know because I seem to have forgotten a few things. Last I recall, it was Monday.”
“Try Thursday.”
“I’m missing three days!?” he couldn’t help but exclaim.
“That would be Tiger’s doing.”
“Tiger? What the fuck are you talking about?” Having Ben on the other line helped him to focus his thoughts but not enough to understand what was happening.”
“First, let’s go back to Macey Munroe. What do you remember about her?”
“Not much. And it doesn’t matter. She’s dead.” A shame. He’d had a crush on the smart girl in high school. Found her naturally pretty, and she’d not changed. Her hair was darker than before, but just as beautiful, and she had two very cute daughters. His eyes widened. “Macey’s not dead! She came to my studio.” Images flashed in his head. One in particular stuck. “Macey injected me with something.” He glanced at his hand.
“Again, not surprised, given her rep. You should count yourself lucky you’re still alive.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You messed with Tiger Mom. Renowned for her ability to handle jobs, sometimes with just a single drop.”
“She’s a drug dealer?”
“No, more like an apothecary.”
“What did she inject me with?”
“My guess would be something to affect your short-term memory.”
“Why would she try and make me forget her?”
“Because running into you was probably a mistake. A link to her past that she’d rather not have forged.”
“She’s hiding from something.”
“You mean someone.”
Ronin. For a second, Ted heard a name but lost it. “How do you know her?”
“BBI has a file on her?” BBI, as in Bad Boy Inc, agency for elite mercenaries that could solve any problem. Ted used to freelance for them, still did when the nightmares became too much and he needed an outlet. “Turns out, your high school girlfriend works for a sister agency.”
“Which one?”
“The Killer Moms.”
Ted snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Macey Munroe is a mercenary?” Personally, Ted had never met any of the KM operatives, but rumor had it the agency only employed single mothers in need. They also had a reputation for only going after the worst of the worst.
And Macey was one of them?
“It’s kind of a good thing you called because I was about to get ahold of you. Tiger’s handler is not happy about you poking around, looking for info on Tiger.”
“Who is she hiding from?”
“Ever heard of a man named Ronin?”
It sounded familiar. Ted kept watch out the window as a dark-paneled van with tinted windows rolled into the alley. “No. Who is he?”
“Ronin is a Chinese mobster with several bounties on his head. But so far, no one’s managed to do the deed.”
“A badass.”
“The baddest.”
“What’s Macey to him?”
“She’s his wife. Or was. The official story was that on