Silent Death (Cryptid Assassin Book 2) Read online

  "Same here." They grinned before the other man headed out.

  Taylor heard the car start and accelerate away but hung around in the shop for a while.

  The suit he had partially taken apart had mostly taken internal damage and the outer armor looked intact. There were a couple of bumps and scrapes here and there but that was to be expected when you were dealing with the Zoo.

  It was intact, but the problems inside promised to be interesting to deal with. The hydraulic functions had been damaged, and that usually meant you would need to be dragged out of the Zoo or carry about a ton of mech armor out on your own. In this case, it appeared that while some of the systems had been damaged, none were at the point where they rendered the suit useless as a whole.

  Once that happened, it was almost cheaper to merely buy a whole new suit.

  The extensive damage to the inner layers was interesting, though. It seemed that whoever had been in it had taken quite a beating, and from the looks of it, had come out alive.

  The memory drives would have been wiped, as was protocol for the mech suits that left the Zoo area, which was a pity. He was a little curious to see what had happened to leave the armor in this state.

  With that said, it wasn't something he would be able to start on tonight. It had been a long day, and while he didn’t feel quite like heading directly to bed, he wasn't in the mood to work either. That would have to wait until the next morning.

  For the moment, he simply decided to square away all the materials and necessities, lock up, and go out to find something to drink—hopefully, something stronger than a beer.

  Chapter Ten

  Taylor took a little longer than he had originally intended to lock the shop as he was sidetracked in an attempt to think of a couple more names he very likely wouldn’t actually use. It was a good thing he was at least still considering the options and hadn’t simply stuck with what he had and hated, but in the end, he would need inspiration to come up with something he really liked.

  Until that happened, he was stuck with what was on the paperwork an included his name. It wasn't the best but it would do as a placeholder.

  At one point, he wondered if he shouldn’t simply call it a day and go to bed but the thought of spending hours alone in his room held little appeal.

  He hadn’t fully dealt with what had happened in LA, and if he tried to sleep now, it would mean that either he’d simply remain awake for hours or what sleep he did get would be the kind of restless bullshit that never helped anyone.

  Of course, there was no certainty that drinking would help either, but at this point, it couldn't hurt.

  I might as well give it a shot.

  The effects of the alcohol that he had imbibed during the afternoon had already faded from his body.

  He felt comfortable driving but he doubted that he was would feel the same by the end of the night. It was best to go somewhere Liz would be safe until he could return to pick her up.

  There was only one place in the city he knew of that would pass muster. Jackson's had a bartender and a bouncer whom he trusted.

  Besides that, it was open twenty-four hours a day, which meant it would never be abandoned even if Marcus was off-duty. Constant activity tended to keep the carjackers at bay. While the AI installed would create a ruckus if anyone tried to drive it who wasn't cleared by them, it would still be an annoyance to have to track a missing vehicle.

  The biggest issue, though, was that he didn't know what dumbass joyriders would try to do to his baby and so wouldn’t risk it. It didn't take too much thought for him to decide on Jackson's and he set off without further delay.

  As much as he liked driving Liz, there were certain issues with steering her through the tighter corners to be found in a few areas of Las Vegas. She wasn't the most agile of trucks, and when it came down to it, her weight made her almost as bad as a semi to manhandle through the roundabouts.

  He needed to find something smaller and easier to maneuver through city streets. The idea of a motorcycle still held appeal and it would fit the look of the suit Bobby had made for him. What was the point of looking like a biker if you didn't have a bike to go with it?

  Thus far, he had been too busy to look into that. It might well be that the best choice for his situation might be a business lease since he would be able to deduct those expenses from the taxes he’d have to pay on the business. He wasn't too knowledgeable on that side of things, however, and he reluctantly accepted that the expertise of an accountant was very necessary when it came to any larger decisions.

  Maybe Bobby would know someone he could use.

  The parking lot at Jackson's was fairly empty, which wasn’t surprising for a Tuesday night with no major sports event happening.

  It was for the best—for him, at least, since he didn't need the intrusion of a crowd of people all yelling at screens. It wasn't that he felt antisocial but more that the people he wanted to be social around were on a very short list.

  One of the members on the list happened to be at work and stood behind what didn't seem like a very busy bar. She looked at her phone as most of the patrons were seated at tables and booths around the bar.

  They were mostly regulars who were in for a drink and a chat with friends, which left little for the bartender to do between refilling their drinks.

  Alex saw him come in through the doors and her face lit up. The response to his arrival triggered a warm and comfortable feeling—like they said, it was always pleasant to go somewhere you knew you were welcome. The way she waved him over helped to raise his spirits.

  "Taylor!" She leaned over the top of the bar when he approached and stretched both hands to pull him in for a tight if somewhat awkward hug. Her voice carried and caught the attention of a handful of the nearby patrons. Fortunately, none were overly concerned with a simple meeting between friends and decided to return to their drinks.

  One large male with red hair in a bar. It’s something you see every day, right?

  She certainly seemed happy to see him, and he returned the hug carefully. It seemed important to not knock anything over but also spend enough time in the hug to let her know that he had missed her too.

  "Are you working hard or hardly working?" Taylor asked with a vague gesture around the semi-abandoned bar and grill as he took his seat at the bar. She recalled his beer of choice without prompting and poured it quickly before she slid it in front of him.

  "Amazingly, a little of both," she replied with a small smile. "When things are slow like they are tonight, my bosses pay me more to restock the bar and get everything clean and ready for the busier nights. It's better than having to do it when the bar is mobbed and you have to get the busboys to do most of the restocking."

  "I'll have to take your word for it. At least you make extra money when the tips aren’t plentiful."

  "Sure." She shrugged. "It's not as good as the tips on a busy night, of course, but it's better than not getting paid at all. Time and a half on the hourly rate is enough to make up for it, though."

  “Well, if I were you, I would ask them to simply pay you a regular wage so you don't have to rely on tips to make a living, but that's a whole other issue."

  "Yeah, anyone who talks about a living wage without including tips can expect to not keep their job for very long," Alex explained. "There's nothing we can achieve on our own and well…at this point, it's more of a cultural thing, so I don't see it changing. Kind of like the gun control issues. People can talk about the problems but in the end, there are too many people who are willing to take the problems with the benefits, so nothing will ever change."

  "That’s interesting. Is that the kind of stuff they teach you in college?"

  "They cover the basics but we have to come up with the details," Alex said. "How about you? I’ll be honest and say you looked like you came in here looking to have your mood lifted—like someone killed your puppy and you were about to go on a rampage that ends with seventy-seven Russian mobsters dead."
/>   Taylor thought a moment, his lips pursed. "I don't think I get that reference."

  "Oh, it’s not important, only the best action franchise from the 2010s and early 2020s." She shrugged and grinned. "I'd think an old fart like you would be tuned into those kinds of movies."

  "I'm not that old," he protested and narrowed his eyes. "Not that my folks were the kind of helicopter parents who kept their kids from watching violent movies. I guess I simply didn't know about it and was caught up on the renewal of comic book movies that happened during my formative years."

  "Well, if you're ever in the mood, I think they show the John Wick movies in some of the smaller theaters around here from time to time. Sometimes, they do a marathon of all five of the films, so you have to set aside the whole night, but it's totally worth it."

  "That sounds like you're asking me out," he said with a small smile.

  "Well, I might be but I'm also telling you to watch those movies." She laughed. "And you can take that however you like. I do have to push, it seems, since you seem determined to deflect my question about your current mood."

  "Damn, I thought I was successful in that."

  "Well, you almost got it past me, especially with me talking about John Wick which is something I like. However, the fact remains that something's bothering you, and it looks like you came here to either drink your way through a bottle or two or be talked out of it." She folded her arms. "So, do you want to talk about it?” She scrunched her arms a little tighter and her cleavage responded impressively. “Or be distracted from it?"

  Taylor chuckled. "I've said it before and I'll say it again—you're very intuitive. You should be a therapist."

  "Don't change the subject." She leaned forward on the bar. "Do you want me to ask what's bothering you, or do you need to be distracted from it?"

  He finished his drink before answering but the woman instantly knew it would be another way for him to deflect and already had a glass waiting for him before the empty one touched the bar.

  A smile formed immediately on his face. Alex was sharp and on the ball when she wanted to be. He was tempted to ask her if she was looking for another job so they could maybe get someone like her on his team.

  But that would have to wait. He had a feeling she would be pissed if she thought he was deflecting again.

  "I don't think I can talk about it," he said finally. "I wouldn't mind talking about something else though if you'd like."

  "Okay." She nodded. "Can you talk about what you do for a living, or is that something you'd rather not talk about?"

  Taylor shrugged. "I guess I can talk about it. I own a business here in town but it’s only starting up.” He raised an eyebrow, “I think I've told you that already."

  "But that's not what's bothering you."

  "Nope, I guess not." He sighed. "The whole issue that has me a little down is my part-time job."

  "What do you do for your part-time job?"

  "Honestly?" He looked both ways down the bar. "A whole ton of stuff. It's not the kind I'm really allowed to talk about, but it's many different things all over the country. The work involves a fair amount of traveling, meals on the go, and in the end, getting back can be a little difficult."

  "I can see that." Alex looked thoughtful. "So, this part-time job that has you dealing with traveling and different things…does it pay well?"

  "Funnily enough, yes, it has so far," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Not enough to retire on, but it's enough to help keep me and the business afloat during the opening stages. Why do you ask?"

  "Well, I wanted to ask why you keep a job that has you depressed like this when you have something else going on. But I guess solid remuneration is enough of an answer for me. Money is the reason why I keep this job, after all, and you don't see me traveling around the world for it."

  "Well, there's always the upside that you have the opportunity to be around interesting people like me." He grinned but she didn’t seem to see the humor in it.

  "Human interaction is nice but it's also a little overrated. Especially when the humans you interact with are drunk and you're sober."

  "Oh, fair enough."

  "But I think I do know of something that will help you with your low spirits. It’ll also help me with the fact that I've been bored to tears all damn day." She took a moment to clean the bar's bench.

  "Now that’s an ambitious statement." He drained his glass. "Continue."

  "Well, it starts with the fact that my replacement has arrived and my shift is about to end," Alex said and waved to another woman who entered the bar section from the kitchen. "Part two involves you letting me drive since you've been drinking and I haven't. There's also the fact that I know where we're going and you don't."

  "And where are we going?" He raised an eyebrow. While he already had an idea as to what she had in mind, he wanted her to confirm it.

  "Back to my place." She stepped away from the bar. "Meet me outside in the parking lot in…shall we say, five minutes?"

  "Will do." He pushed to his feet, withdrew a couple of fifties from his wallet to pay his bill, and left a generous tip as she disappeared into the kitchen. Damned if she didn't know a thing or two about this kind of thing. Now that she mentioned it, heading to her place did seem like it was exactly what the doctor would have ordered in this kind of situation.

  It had been what his actual doctor had ordered when he was still in therapy. Well, technically, it was when he had finished therapy, but the result was the same.

  Alex waited outside in the parking lot in what looked like an older model Honda but one she had put considerable effort into maintaining.

  "Where are we headed?" Taylor asked as he pushed the front seat back before he slid inside.

  "Like I said, my place," she replied. The gears ground for a moment before the vehicle lurched forward and onto the street.

  "Okay, that would be more or less the same answer you would give me if you were taking me out to some kind of murder dungeon too," he pointed out.

  She chuckled. "Sure, but do you really think I would be able to overpower you and somehow manhandle you into a murder dungeon?"

  "I've learned never to underestimate people, no matter what my size or theirs. After all, we're dealing with people who have access to all kinds of modern amenities, so no assumptions."

  "Well, if it will put your mind at ease, my building is just up the street…here." She slowed and turned into an underground parking lot, then brought them to a halt near the elevator.

  The overall look of the building was similar to her car, he noted. Both were a little long in the tooth, but there were signs that a fair amount of work was put into making them useful to those who needed them.

  If nothing else, the elevator worked and took them to the fifth floor without incident. Alex took his hand and guided him through the hallway toward apartment 506, unlocked the door, and pulled it open, then stepped inside first and turned the lights on.

  It was a small studio apartment but indicated that considerable effort had been put into making it livable. Movable partitions separated the kitchen, a small living room with a TV, and a bedroom. It was clean, organized and tastefully decorated. Any number of people would kill for an apartment like this, and she had made it more of a home than merely a place to crash after work.

  "It’s a nice place," Taylor mentioned as he looked around.

  "There’s no need to flatter me. I know it's small and a little dingy."

  "It's better than what I have right now," he replied. "Although, in my defense, I would say I'm still working on improving it."

  "Well, I'll have to take your word for it." She yanked her shirt over her head and threw it onto the small sofa in front of her TV in the living area before she turned her back to him. "Help me with the clasp?"

  "Sure." He undid her bra and she pulled it off to toss it beside her shirt before she turned again and stood on her tiptoes to place a light kiss on his lips.

  He returned the k
iss, a little surprised by her forward nature. She pulled away.

  "No foreplay, then?" he asked.

  She shrugged, took his hand, and guided him to the bed. "Maybe later."

  Chapter Eleven

  He surprisingly still needed a little while to catch his breath. It wasn't to say he was out of shape or anything, but he had drawn on every ounce of physical conditioning to keep up with Alex, who looked to be in spectacular shape herself.

  In his defense, however, she seemed to struggle to keep up with him as well. Currently, her perfect breasts rose and fell at an equally rapid pace while she recovered.

  It was a gorgeous and hypnotic sight to behold, and Taylor couldn't stop himself from staring.

  It took her a few moments to notice his gaze. She laughed softly as she turned onto her side and traced her fingers lightly over his chest.

  "Do you like what you see?" she asked coquettishly and leaned in to place a light kiss to the left side of his chest.

  "Yesss," he admitted. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing it, either."

  She laughed, a soft, beautiful peal, and turned to lay on her back again and stare at the ceiling. "I'll be sore tomorrow, but damn if it's not worth it. Fuck me."

  "Sure." He turned to look at her again before he glanced at his crotch. "But…uh, give me five to ten minutes."

  She chuckled, pushed herself closer to him, and pulled his arm around her shoulders. Her other hand guided his to rest on her breast. She turned her full focus on him and her fingertips explored the body she had touched, grasped, and scratched lightly only moments before.

  Now that she was in less of a hurry, she allowed herself the luxury of studying what she touched and her touch quickly found the myriad scars that adorned his bare skin.

  "So, this side job of yours," Alex noted and leaned in to inspect the old wounds a little closer. "Does it get you into the kind of trouble that earns you these, or is this from a past life?"