Page 169 of Antihero

There was light there behind the lids, a tiny spot in the darkness.

Drawing a deep breath, he opened his eyes once more.

He clicked the button.

And said, “I’ll be right down.”

61Pushing the Boulder Up to the Light

The contoured seats of the Embraer Lineage 1000 were even more comfortable than those in the Mercedes 450 EQS+. Aragón Urrea’s plane also sported a full-length couch, a queen-size bed, and a shower. A global clock mounted on the wall showed off a dozen time zones.

Evan was getting accustomed to luxury.

He was winging across the cloud-choked night somewhere above New Jersey. The red-eye flight would land him in Los Angeles Saturday morning.

The in-flight phone rang.

Aragón, of course: “Is everything to your liking?”

“Indeed.”

“Did you save the damsel in distress?”

“She saved herself. I just helped.”

“Did you kill the motherfucker?”

“Not this time.”

“Bah,” Aragón said. “Well, I suppose you can’t win them all.”

“Not even close.”

But Aragón had already hung up.

Evan settled back into the seat, let the foam receive him.

A thought wiggled its way into awareness.

He took out his RoamZone.

Stared at the blank screen for a moment.

Then he pulled up a picture of Joey.

He looked at it. Considered the faint movement occurring within his chest.

He called up another picture: Candy McClure, a surveillance shot he’d saved to her dossier.

The next one: Mia Hall.

And then Melinda Truong.

And then Naomi Templeton.

Quite a roguettes’ gallery.

He scrolled through them once more, faces shuffling by.