Page 5 of Nightfire

He felt restless, almost aching for that fight the woman had wanted. He didn’t want to fight her, he wanted…shit. He didn’t know what the fuck he wanted. He only knew that if he’d come across some gangbangers in his long run across town, he’d have welcomed a really good, rough fight.

He was good with his fists. Was a fighter, always had been. There wasn’t any number of men he’d back down from. Bring it on.

Hooah. Yeah.

Bullshit.

Something deep in his gut that told him there wasn’t any kind of fistfight that would calm whatever it was that was boiling inside him.

Finally, when the sun had lightened the entire sky, he went back inside to get dressed for another working day.

TWO

Chloe Mason sat in the very elegant waiting room of RBK Security, Inc., which was in a very elegant building in very elegant downtown San Diego.

She’d spent a lot of time in plush, designer surroundings, but she was still impressed with the large room which managed to be both beautiful and designed for comfort and efficiency.

It also had another quality she was very familiar with. Everything in the room, from the color palette of light earth tones to the lush, healthy plants to the expensive couches and armchairs, the interesting but not shrill modern artwork, was designed to calm and to soothe.

It was still the Christmas season, but the office didn’t have the usual loop of nauseatingly familiar carols playing, which many found grating and stressful, particularly if they were in trouble. Rather, the Christmas spirit was honored by soft medieval madrigals playing in the background. Instead of killing a tree, the company had put up a colored light sculpture that was both intriguing and beautiful.

She’d spent all of her childhood and a good deal of her adolescence in and out of very expensive medical clinics and that mixture of good taste and reassurance was one she was familiar with.

Even the receptionist was soothing. Chloe had walked into this highly successful office and asked to speak with one of the partners. In American business-dom that just didn’t happen. She knew enough of business etiquette to know that.

And yet she hadn’t made an appointment. She’d propelled herself here from Boston without even thinking of making one, excited and terrified and hopeful, in equal measure.

So she’d walked over to the elegant U design of the reception counter and quietly given her name to the slender, sharply-dressed receptionist with beautiful silver hair cut by someone who knew what he was doing.

The receptionist hadn’t blinked at the unexpected request. She simply looked up and asked whether the appointment was urgent.

Urgent? Was it urgent? Maybe, maybe not. Though if Harry Bolt was who she thought he was, it was more than urgent. It was life-shattering.

So she simply nodded, throat too tight to plead her cause.

“Okay then,” the receptionist had said, tapping on her touch screen. “It’s a busy morning for Mr. Bolt, but I’ll do what I can.” She looked up again, eyes searching Chloe’s face. “Would one of the other partners do? Mr. Keillor has a free hour from ten to eleven.”

Mr. Keillor would be Michael Keillor, former Marine, former SWAT officer, current partner. She’d read his bio on the RBK web site and seen his unsmiling photograph. He looked smart and tough and capable, just like all the partners. If she had security problems, he’d probably be just as good as Harry Bolt.

But her problems didn’t have anything to do with security.

She shook her head, hoping the receptionist wouldn’t take her inability to speak as discourtesy. And while she was at it, that the receptionist wouldn’t notice Chloe’s shaking hands.

The receptionist didn’t, she simply touched the screen again. “Okay, I can clear you for Mr. Bolt at nine thirty, if you don’t mind waiting.”

Chloe had waited all her life for this moment. Another half an hour wouldn’t make much difference. She managed to choke out a thank you through her tight throat and sat down to wait on one of the incredibly comfortable armchairs that dotted the enormous lobby.

So many emotions swirled in her chest that she couldn’t feel any single one in particular, just a huge pressure so powerful she could barely breathe. She wanted so much for⁠—

And she stopped herself right there. Wanting didn’t make things happen. If there was one thing her life had taught her, it was that. She could want so fiercely she thought she would explode and it wouldn’t make any difference at all. It was impossible to understand what really could make a difference. Fate? Perhaps. Randomness? Maybe. Wanting? No.

So she sat back in the extremely comfortable and attractive armchair and…disappeared.

It was her trick, harshly learned throughout her childhood. Bad things happened to her when she got noticed. She’d learned very early to sit back and become unnoticed. She didn’t become literally invisible. It’s just that she could turn off all the subconscious signals humans sent to each other, so that no one noticed her.

She sat there, unmoving, saying nothing, and observed. Observed the other people waiting for one of the three partners. There were three men in the room, all middle-aged or older, all visibly rich and powerful. Businessmen, who wanted RBK to help them in something or with something. Two were sweating so badly a slightly acrid odor rose above their expensive colognes. The other sat in Male Mode, knees apart, clasped hands between them. He radiated anger and aggression.

Chloe didn’t dare look at him. Though she’d perfected the art of blandness, she knew through bitter experience that an angry male took even a chance meeting of eyes as aggression.