Jack Kursed Page 10

  She dialed his number.

  "Victoria?" he answered. "Cindy is really pissed at you."

  Cindy was Alex's fiancée. Victoria was certain she was a large part in the stability in his life.

  "I know, I know," she said, clenching her eyes shut. "Tell her I'm really sorry. Something important came up, and I had to leave Baltimore fast. Did the dress fitting go okay?"

  "Yeah, I think so. She really wanted you there, though. Alicia's a little upset, too."

  Alicia was Alex's sister. Victoria's friendship with Alex was great, and a side benefit was befriending Cindy and Alicia.

  "I’m just pissing everybody off," she said. "Believe me, there’s a good reason."

  "You working on something? Need some help? Do you need the services of a guy who can talk to ghosts and walk through walls?"

  "I appreciate it, but no, I don’t think so. I’ve got other help available if I need it. And believe me, he can do far worse things."

  "Okay, but don’t say I didn’t offer. How’s the beach treating you?"

  She smiled and gracefully turned in front of the dresser mirror once again.

  "Alex, you wouldn’t believe it. It’s incredible, being in the sun. I wish Jake was with me. I’d show him a good time right on the sand."

  Jake Bachner, her boyfriend. He was away, as always, chasing evil vampires.

  "Too much info there. I’m gonna head out before you tell me what you do in the bedroom."

  "You had your chance. But you went with your soul-mate you met when you were five."

  Alex laughed. Victoria knew she never had a chance with him. He only ever had eyes for Cindy. Still, she wouldn’t have minded a night of passion with a man with wings.

  They said their goodbyes. She hung up the phone and nursed on a blood bag. She wasn’t thirsty due to her earlier drink at the restaurant, but a quick snack always kept her on her toes.

  The room phone rang as she licked her lips and fangs.

  "Miss Smith, Dr. Collins just checked in to his room. He's in room 250."

  "Thank you, Mike. You'll be compensated even more for your trouble."

  "That means money, right?"

  "Yes. Lots and lots of money."

  Victoria hung up and took a deep breath. Something dangerous was brewing in or around Parkville. That's all Bradley could tell her. Bradley was an old vampire friend of hers. She'd known him even longer than Jack. When he contacted her and said he only trusted her with this job, she knew it was serious. He had a name, Dr. Stan Collins, and a hotel. That was all.

  The last few cases she worked on were all relatively simple. One involved a vampire trying to organize an army of newborn vamps into an army. Another time a cult tried to open a door to the spirit world. Her most interesting case was the hunt of a werewolf, where she met her newest friend, Kevin Mishnar.

  Hopefully this case would be a simple one. She could use more time at the beach.

  She wished Jack was with her. One of the many reasons she sought him out was to enlist his help, if he forgave her. But now Jack had his own problems, mainly an eight-year-old girl.

  There were advantages to working alone, like the stunt she was getting ready to pull off.

  Victoria was in room 450, two floors directly above Dr. Collins. She opened the balcony door and stepped into the night air. The street still crawled with activity. Parkville was somewhat of a tourist town, with the beach nearby. The pool was below, with a few twenty-somethings swimming and having a good time.

  She nimbly jumped onto the railing and turned to face her room. Taking one step back, gravity took hold of her as she fell toward the ground below. She reached out with one hand and easily grabbed the bottom railing outside room 350. Holding on, the momentum spun her directly under the balcony. She dug the claws of her left hand into the concrete above as she stared into room 250 upside down.

  Dr. Collins stepped into his room. Victoria didn't have Jack's amazing knack for picking out obscure details about a person, but she was no slouch. Collins was somewhere in his late thirties. Average weight, a little on the short side, a thick pair of glasses. He wore a collared shirt and jeans, and rolled a suitcase behind him.

  She let go of the balcony above and twisted as she dropped outside room 250. Crouching like a cat, she continued to watch Collins. The man unpacked some clothes, a laptop, and bathroom accessories. He was definitely human, nothing supernatural about him. She'd have to watch him until he showed his hand.

  He moved across the room to answer a knock at the door. Victoria held in a laugh as a woman stepped inside, wearing a miniskirt nearly to her hips. It didn’t take the wisdom of a vampire to see what her profession was. They talked price for a moment before the woman pushed Collins down into bed.

  Victoria rolled her eyes. She almost wanted to simply burst in, take the direct approach, and threaten Collins with harm if he didn’t tell her what he was up to. The smarter side of her knew patience was key, and watching him would take little effort.

  She closed her eyes at the sight of him making a fool of himself with his girlfriend for the night. He asked her if she wanted to go to dinner.

  Perhaps watching him would take more effort than she thought.

  *****

  It took emails, phone calls, and four hours of his time. There were bribes involved, favors being turned in, favors being asked for. His iPhone died at one point, and Jack had to charge it for a half hour before continuing. Close to one hundred thousand dollars changed hands, and there were even some threats and blackmail tossed around. But when Jack made that last call, and received that final email, he was now the legal foster-parent of Tiffany March. The package even came complete with an emailed certificate and paperwork proving that Andrea Simmons was a foster-mother in error. He even had forged signatures. He had the digital paperwork, and the hard copies would be in his hand by day’s end.

  Jack sat at the deck table and allowed himself a smile. Phase one of his little scheme was complete. But there was still one final problem to deal with. Andrea Simmons herself. That would have to wait until sunrise.

  He quietly crept into the house. Tiffany still slept on the couch, her rhythmic breathing filling the living room. He wanted to watch TV, but that was obviously out of the question. He couldn’t listen to music. His mind raced for something to do to kill a few hours.

  That’s all his life seemed to be at times. Searching for ways to kill time.

  He paced in the kitchen. All he wanted to do was sit on his couch, but that wasn’t possible due to the living human resting there. He couldn’t even turn on a light. If he kicked the girl out, or killed her, that would solve his problems. He shook his head. Killing her would be wrong somehow, and he didn’t just go through hours of trouble to save her, just to kill her.

  Tears ran down his face, although he didn’t make a sound. He knew what was happening. Every few decades he simply broke down. He wanted to rest, to sleep. That was impossible.

  "Just an hour," he whispered. "A half hour. Ten minutes."

  He wiped the tears from his face, but they kept coming, and that only infuriated him more. He clenched and opened his fists as he paced. There were so many things in the world he could do, and at that moment, he could do none of them.

  "Jack?"

  He stopped and stared at the couch. Tiffany’s silhouette looked over the top of the cushions. She rubbed sleep out of her eyes.

  "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice full of genuine concern.

  "I just want to sleep."

  "Have you taken NyQuil?"

  Jack laughed as he wiped his eyes once again.

  "I’ve taken pretty much everything, I think."

  "Sara told me warm milk would make you sleepy."

  "I’ve tried warm milk. I’ve tried chocolate milk. Milk laced with LSD, heroin, cocaine, rat poison. Nothing works."

  "What’s LSD?"

  "Nevermind."

  "Can we have some cereal?"

  He sighed as he turned on the
kitchen light. How long would it be before Tiffany drove him even crazier than he already was?

  "Sure, whatever."

  Jack took a step toward the refrigerator, but Tiffany was already moving. She climbed off the couch and dragged a stool to the counter. She went through each cabinet, one by one, moving the stool as she went. The child didn't ask for help of any kind. Jack watched in fascination. An excited cry left her lips as she found the prize.

  "Cookie Crisp! I love Cookie Crisp."

  He smiled and nodded. "The breakfast of champions when I don't feel like slaving it over the stove."

  She continued searching through cabinets until she found bowls. He raised an eyebrow as she grabbed not one, but two of them. She retrieved the milk on her own and grabbed two spoons from the drawer next to the sink.

  It took nearly ten minutes longer than it should have, but Jack stared at a bowl of cereal waiting at the bar for him. Tiffany sat and eagerly filled her spoon, pausing for a moment to look up at him.

  "Are you going to eat your cereal?"

  He laughed and shook his head as he sat across from her. It had been centuries since someone made breakfast for him, and that was his mother.

  "You're alright, Tiffany."

  She beamed at him, showing off a missing tooth.

  "Today is gonna be a busy day," he said. "Are you up for it?"

  She nodded eagerly. "What are we gonna be doing?"

  He smiled. "Just some subtle things."

  *****

  Jack drove deeper into Parkville and parked in front of the pool hall his contact told him about. The windows were down, the sunroof open, and Tiffany looked like she was having the time of her life. The girl giggled with every bump they hit, her tiny body lifting from the seat.

  They definitely weren't in the best of neighborhoods. A few teens, who no doubt should have been in school, were laughing and talking on the street corner. A woman stood at a bus stop across the street, looking for someone to hire her.

  "We're going to play pool?" Tiffany shouted. "Neat."

  "No, we're not."

  "Then why did we come here?"

  He said nothing. A sudden guilt crept over him at the thought of bringing Tiffany along. There wasn't much choice. He didn't know of anyone that could babysit, and Victoria wasn't answering her phone. He had a large number of personal assistants, but they all lived in other states.

  Jack looked down at his young guest. She looked up at him, giving him her undivided attention.

  "I'm not gonna bore you with details," he said. "But this is all part of getting Miss Simmons to let you stay with me."

  She crossed her arms. "I hate Miss Simmons. She's gonna be real mad when she sees I ran away again."

  "Exactly, which is why we need to hurry. You stay right at my side, okay?"

  She nodded eagerly. He reached for his briefcase in between them, a constant in the many illegal dealings he conducted over the years.

  "Can I carry it? I want to help."

  He smiled. The kid had a talent for making him smile. She had more spark than any other human he met in his life, and he met a lot.

  They pushed the door open to the pool hall. There weren't many people at eight o'clock in the morning, but the few who were there all turned their gaze on Jack and Tiffany. It was a rough-looking crowd. Tiffany carried his briefcase with both hands as they walked in between the pool tables.

  He spotted the man he was looking for in the back. Jerry Turnbull. Not exactly a tough, mafia-type name, but Jack didn't care about his name. Jerry was a little older than the picture Jack received in an email, but it was him. Maybe close to fifty and slowly losing his hair. The man leaned on a pool cue while talking to someone who could only be a henchman, judging from the size of the guy. A beautiful blonde woman played pool by herself. She made sure she leaned over the table at all the right angles for Jerry's viewing pleasure, smiling over her shoulder at him before each shot.

  If this was how the place was in the morning, Jack was curious as to how it was at night.

  The henchman stepped forward to intercept Jack, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  "Whoa there, buddy. Do you have an appointment?"

  "No. But Jerry will want to talk to me," Jack said, gesturing to his briefcase.

  The henchman quickly patted Jack down, and then moved over to Tiffany. It was Jack’s turn to forcefully grab a shoulder.

  "No one touches my assistant."

  The henchman scowled, but Jerry only laughed. He motioned to let them by.

  "I have to say, your assistant is probably a little too young to work for me," Jerry said with a thick accent.

  "Funny," Jack said. He took the briefcase from Tiffany and looked at the henchman. "You know, I bet my friend here could beat you at pool."

  "We can play pool?" Tiffany asked.

  The henchman looked at Jerry, who was very amused. Jack knelt down so he could look into Tiffany’s eyes.

  "Okay, partner, go play some pool with the gorilla-looking guy and the pretty lady over there. I won’t be long."

  "Alright," she said, and then looked up at the henchman. "I’m gonna beat you."

  Jack waited until they were at the pool table before turning to Jerry.

  "I understand you’re the person to see if I need help."

  Jerry shook his head. "I don’t loan out money anymore. But I got the feeling you don’t need money."

  "No. But I would like to give you money." He cracked open his briefcase and pulled out ten thousand dollars.

  Jerry stared at the cash as Jack set it on the small table next to them.

  "Do I have your attention?" Jack asked.

  Jerry smirked and nodded. "I have to ask, what’s to stop me from taking your little magic briefcase there."

  "Probably my temper."

  The small-time criminal laughed heartily and slapped Jack on the shoulder. That was the second time he’d been touched, and his patience was wearing thin.

  "You’re a funny guy. Tell me, what did you have in mind?"

  "Sort of the opposite of burglary."

  Jack checked on Tiffany as Jerry leaned closer. She was enjoying her game of pool. Jerry’s eye candy picked the girl up so she could wildly swing her cue over the table. She was excited just to hit a ball, much less sink one. The henchman and eye candy laughed at the girl’s behavior, and the henchman even missed on purpose so Tiffany could keep playing.

  Jack filled Jerry in on what services he wanted to purchase.

  *****

  Jack slowed the truck and parked across the street from Andrea Simmons’ house. Everything looked normal enough. There were no police on her front lawn. Simmons wasn’t standing on the front porch shouting for Tiffany to come home. He hoped she didn’t realize Tiffany was even missing. The thought crossed his mind that it was possible she knew Tiffany was gone, and didn’t care.

  Tiffany drank an orange juice they’d bought ten minutes ago at his convenience store. She made fast friends with Mr. Soon and his wife. She made fast friends with everyone.

  "How are you holding up?" he asked.

  "I’m fine. I won at pool."

  "I saw that. Very impressive. Hopefully we won’t be here too long. Then we’ll get you some clothes, maybe a bed."

  Tiffany sat up and stared out the windshield. Her face took on a look of panic when she realized where they were.

  "You...brought me back to Miss Simmons."

  She undid her seat-belt and grabbed the door handle. Jack reached across the seat and snatched her wrist before she could open the door.

  "Calm the hell down."

  She breathed hard and shook. Tears ran down her cheeks. She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth.

  "You lied to me," she said. "You said I could stay with you."

  "I didn't lie to you, kid. But don't piss me off, or I'll change my mind. I'm not giving you back to Miss Simmons."

  "Then why are we here?"

  "Do you really want to know?
Can you handle it?"

  She nodded as that familiar fire returned to her cheeks.

  "I said my name is Tiffany. Not kid."

  "Okay. Miss Simmons is no longer your foster-parent. I am."

  Tiffany showed off every tooth she had as she reached out for a hug. Jack scooted away, closer to the driver's door, and scrunched his face.

  "And the contract didn't include hugs, if I remember right," he said. She frowned and leaned away. "Now, I might be your foster-parent, but we still have Miss Simmons to deal with. She'll throw a fit with the police, and who knows what else. So we have to give her bigger problems to worry about. I wanted to kill her, but this might actually be better."

  "Killing people is bad."

  "Yeah, I keep hearing that," Jack said. He noticed someone walking up her sidewalk to Simmons' front door. "Ah. Right on time."

  Jack watched the scene unfold before him. Tiffany hid behind him, peeking out from behind his shoulder. He didn't think much of Jerry, even with his contact's recommendation. Jerry seemed like more of a gang leader than any type of underworld figure with real power. His suspicions rang even more true when the man nearly salivated at the sight of fifty thousand dollars. But if he could do what Jack wanted, he could forgive his pool hall headquarters and ridiculous fake accent.

  The man at the front door distracted Simmons while two more moved around back. Jack didn't know how they would deal with the children, and didn't really care. As long as they planted drugs all over the house, nothing else mattered.

  The distraction went smoothly. Jack couldn't read their lips, as he couldn't get a clear view of them. He rolled down the window to hear a little of their conversation.

  "I'm telling you, lady. Your dog bit my son. I'm gonna sue you."

  "You idiot. I don't even have a dog."

  "I saw it run out of your house and go after my kid. Maybe you weren't home, I don't know. But don't think you're getting away with this."