Dave shook his head and sighed as he counted the drawer again at the end of a shift, having lost track of his count. Confirming it twice, he took care of the logging before bugging out for the night, leaving the shop in the care of those Donovan lent him. And that’s another thing he thought to himself as he climbed into his truck. For the first time in ages, he wanted a cigarette. Almost.
Professionally, he was doing better than he had been a while ago, when he made the decision to shut down his California business. Personally he felt as though he might be on the verge of losing it all. He’d had a regular date, and lunch or two with Maria in the meantime, but even she could tell he were distracted. He’d blamed it on work, and she was sympathetic. Truthfully, he was starting to hate himself.
Since that first night, he hadn’t been able to stop fantasizing about Mandy – and that was only part of the problem. He was worried about Lucas as well, now that he was acting as courier for Donovan. He knew Lucas had questions – questions that he wasn’t sure Lucas was satisfied with. He had toyed with, on more than one occasion, of telling Lucas the truth about the dark world he’d stumbled into. There were risks, however. By telling him, Lucas might end up getting himself – and maybe even Maria, if he said anything to her – killed, should anyone find out. He wasn’t sure how well of a secret Lucas could keep, and therefore Donovan might suspect something was up – possibly killing, ghouling, or even embracing the poor boy.
It’s more than just Donovan, though he reminded himself. His son was a ghoul. The very fact that Michael and Lucas were dating was a risk factor. He didn’t know how serious he relationship was to Lucas. But to Michael? He figured it was pretty important. Michael had never been known to have a relationship longer than two, maybe three weeks prior to this, and this had been a few months. He growled slightly in frustration, and slammed a hand against the dashboard to his truck. He was so torn…
As he approached the house he shared with Claude, he noticed a few extra cars in the street, but thought nothing more of it than a neighbor having a get-together. He pulled into the driveway as usual, and entered the house, calling for Borky, only to receive no answer. That gave him pause, as the half-grown dog would usually come running. He started through the house, calling for him, and found him asleep in the kitchen, near the back door. Something seemed off though, so he crouched down to check on him, finding a very small tranquilizer dart embedded into his neck. Carefully, he pulled it out, reaching into his pocket for his phone with the other to call Claude as he stood.
He didn’t want to interrupt Claude’s date with Petra, but this could be important. He’d just pulled up the contact information, and was about to send a text in case someone were still in the house, when he felt something press itself against his temple.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mr. Carmichael. Not just yet.”
Dave froze, standing still as a suited individual, presumably a different one than the one aimed at his head, as the pressure didn’t shift in the slightest, moved into hisline of vision and took the phone from him. Dave slowly raised his hands.
“Who are you?” he inquired.
“Oh, we’re not here for you, Mr. Carmichael.” said the man behind him, keeping the gun pressed against his head while another suit patted him down and removed the piece he had a permit to carry. Once he was cleared of weapons, the gunman backed off. A group of suits then appeared in front of him.
“You have a single opportunity to cooperate with us, Mr. Carmichael.” the gunman stated.
“If I don’t?”
“We can easily pin on you arms trafficking charges, as well as indict you in the disappearance of your ex-wife and her lover. Should we need to go further, we can deport Mrs. Guiterrez-Vitali.”
“So, point made. Got it. What do you want from me?”
“Your association with our top agent is well known. You need to convince him to come back to work.”
“He’s happily retired. He’s not going to go for that.”
“He should be smarter than that. Much like a gang, there’s no real leaving it.”
Dave made an effort to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Can;t you just approach him?”
“You know how stubborn he can be. He’s less likely to turn on you.” the gunman turned, and another suit handed him a small usb drive. “Besides….he botched his last job?”
“Say what now?” Dave said, blinking. “Claude doesn’t botch.”
“The client wasn’t supposed to sell. It was his influence that drove her to do so.”
“I don’t know why you think that.” he said, playing dumb.
“His daughter arrived to the Tokyo safe house, in tow with an unknown. He let the client leave with the unknown, while he had….” he clared his throat “…relations, with his daughter.”
Dave blinked. “I don’t believe you.”
The suit handed him the drive. “By all means, take a look at the video evidence. That being said, we aren’t beyond using that footage to drag his name and reputation through the mud.”
“I doubt it would bother him much.” DAve said, taking the drive.
“Perhaps not. But how would it affect his precious daughter in her everyday life? Or should we say, every night?”
Dave looked at him skeptically. “I thought you were only supposed to keep tabs on him.”
“We keep tabs on everyone in his life. With his training, he’s a dangerous man. Naturally, we keep track of you, and your children as well. We’d love to know just how his daughter got so cozy with royalty, for instance, but we aren’t after her.”
“I don’t recommend threatening her.” he said quietly.
“Oh, nor do we. But a reminder, that she’s vulnerable? That if we’re keeping tabs on her, that past enemies might be as well? Well….it couldn’t hurt. Besides….we haven’t revoked his access to our systems…yet. We can do that easily, even restrict what he has access to outside our systems.”
“I see…”
“We hope so, Mr. Carmichael.”
“Just convince him?”
“Essentially – unless you happen to know who he’s been getting cozy with.”
“No. I only met her twice.” he said, feeling a small sense of dread wash over him.
“Make sure you give him the drive as well.” the suit said. David could only nod.
“Good man.” the suit said, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.” he said to the others, and filed out.
“Remember Mr. Carmichael – we’ll be watching.”
“Yeah…” he said, staring at the drive in the palm of his hand. Once he heard the door closed, he waited long enough to hear the cars drive off, then locked doors, checked on Borky again, and looked for Chance, who looked to be out, thankfully. His next stop was his office, where he sat at his desk and, with a mild shake to his hand, placed the drive into the computer, and searched for the files on it.
There was a photocopy of a flyer he didn’t recognize, that talked about Mandy’s involvement in New York, signed by Brandon and brazenly naming specific kindred terms. There were, what he would term, ‘ready to go’ files – files ready to be uploaded, listing trumped up charges from some people associated with Claude – from Claude himself, to the aforementioned himself, even some casual minor offenses thrown in for the likes of Mandy and Michael, as well as a deportation order for Maria. Left on the drive was a video file he was hesitant to click on. He didn’t want to believe what the suit said. If it were true, it might change their friendship forever, he didn’t know. Then again, it could be the blood bond enforcing itself.
With a note of frustration, he yanked the drive from his computer, and looked at his phone. To wait for Claude to get home, or call? he mulled it over, then finally just sent a text that read Need to talk when you get back. He wasn’t sure what else to add. He leaned back in his chair and thought, while trying to push away that his life seemed to be in near ruins right now, simply because of who he was associated with. Maria was at risk in a different way right now, and he would do what he could to keep her from getting deported if at all possible. He figured it would affect Lucas a lot, what with him having just killed his father. What would his mother being deported do to the poor boy? He would have Michael to lean on, of course. But how would Michael take it if, say, Lucas decided to follow his mother back to Mexico?
He felt anger welling up within him, and he resorted to deep breaths to calm down. A ghoul’s anger wasn’t as potent as a vampire’s, but it could still be pretty devastating. In the midst of calming down, his phone rang. He picked it up without looking at the caller id, and answered.
“You didn’t have to call back.” he said.There was light, feminine laughter on the other end that sent a shiver up his spine. That’s not Claude…
“Darlin'” a sweet, sultry sounding voice spoke, with a hint of a southern accent.
“Jesse?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh, you do remember.” she said, her voice sugary sweet. Too sweet. She was angry.
“I thought you were dead…”
“No darlin; just sleeping.” she said, her accent thickening a little.
“Oh…” was all he could manage to say.
“Don’t worry, Darlin’.” She said, that light laugh of hers sending a shiver down his spine. “I’m coming for you…” she said, in a near sing-song pitch, then laughed and hung up.
He swallowed a scream and tossed the phone away, as though somehow she might jump out of it and torment him, as she was often wont to do when she were in a foul mood. He had thought her dead not more than six years ago, having worked for her and suffered at her hands for seven years prior to that. He was terrified and couldn’t catch his breath. She was coming for him…she would track him down and do god knows what to him …or those I care about he suddenly thought, remembering her having used that threat so many times before.
He stopped still, realizing he’d started rocking, like he used to years ago when he knew she was mad at or with him. I have to get out of here… he said, grabbing his keys and heading out, stopping only to check on the dog again before leaving. He left his phone behind, worried she might be able to track him that way. He revved the truck to life after climbing in, then backed out of the driveway and just…started driving. He wasn’t sure where to go. Ultimately, he found himself at the massage parlor Donovan had shown him when he’d first become his ghoul. Parking, he locked and shut off the car, heading inside.
“Here for a massage?” the woman behind the desk asked with a smile, recognizing him.
He shook his head. “I wish. I need to call the boss. Can I use your phone?”
She nodded, and escorted him into the office, going so far as to dial Donovan’s number before giving him privacy. Dave waited as it rang, hoping for an answer, and praying he wouldn’t have a pissed off domitor on his hands.