Frankie leans over the desk, her hair still free as it hangs in front of Bob’s face. A cruel smile spreads across her face. “What makes you think she hasn’t already?”
Oh, my God. I have no idea where this conversation is going, but I don’t like it.
I hiss, “Frankie!”
She shrugs, and Bob turns to me looking shocked. “Is that true, Cat?”
Still looking at Frankie, my lip curls. “Look at what you did.”
Bob asks hesitantly, “Was it James?”
Oh, man.
I haven’t heard that name in over two years.
Frankie’s face pales as she turns to me. “I’m sorry. I was only joking. I had no idea he’d...”
Bob cuts her off when he repeats, “Was it James?”
Frankie wraps her arm around my shoulders in a consoling gesture.
Thoughts of James cause a flurry of emotions to course through my mind. Anger. Sadness. Grief. Anger. Mostly anger. Although I’m not sure who that anger is aimed at.
Frankie clears her throat before announcing, “I was only joking around, Bob. Cat hasn’t been with anyone...not in the biblical sense.” No one says a thing, so Frankie adds, “Sometimes, I don’t know when to quit with the jokes. Sorry...to both of you.”
I accept her apology with a small nudge of my head into her shoulder.
Bob coughs. “I shouldn’t have brought him up. I’m sorry, Cat. I should’ve known she was joking.”
A memory seems to come out of nowhere. I stare through the foot of the table.
A concerned, “Cat?”
Then distantly, “Cat?”
James smiles down at me and his brows furrow in disbelief. “For me? Really?”
I hand him the wrapped gift, smiling. “Happy birthday.”
He leans into me, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. And it’s wonderful. I love his kisses.
His messy light brown hair curls behind his ears; his hazel eyes crinkle in the corners as he smiles, his straight white teeth gleaming. “You didn’t need to get me anything, Cat.”
My sixteen-year-old self flushes. “Twenty-one is a milestone. It’s an important birthday. Of course you need a gift.”
His face turns angry, and then sad. He brings his forehead down on mine gently and whispers, “I don’t deserve you.”
My eyes close in contented bliss. I whisper back, “I love you, James.”
I come back to reality with a start. A sharp, “What?” flies out of my mouth.
Bob and Frankie both blink at me.
Bob utters quietly, “I’m sorry, girl. I shouldn’t have brought him up. It’s been a long time.”
I nod in agreement. It has been a long time.
He clears his throat, and then smiles. “So, what brought you down here quicker than a demon bat flying out of hell?”
I almost forgot. A small smile plays at my lips.
Screw James. This is my chance to prove myself.
I swallow hard. I’m not entirely sure how this will go down. “I-uh...I need access to Mirage.”
Silence.
More silence.
I chance a look at Bob, who watches me curiously through narrowed eyes. He asks carefully, “Why do you need access to Mirage?”
Standing straighter than a wooden plank, I put forward my best game-face and announce, “I’m attending a job with Ari tonight. I need access to Mirage to prepare myself.”
Frankie’s mouth gapes. Behind her eyes, I see her brain working a mile a minute. Finally, she whispers in awe, “This is a big deal.”
I agree. It really is.
Bob stares at me, into me. “You ready for this?”
I respond immediately, “Yes, sir.”
He swipes a hand down his face, looking anxious. “If this is about what happened yesterday in our session—”
I cut him off with a firm, “I’m ready, Bob. Really. I’m ready.”
Frankie pulls me tighter into her body. A silent show of support.
The look on Bob’s face worries me. He’s having a hard time believing me. He looks to be mentally arguing with himself.
Frankie offers, “Bob, if you’re worried, I can go too.”
I roll my eyes, shrugging out of her hold. “I don’t need a damn babysitter, Frankie.”
She raises her hands in surrender and immediately backtracks. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
My glare trains on her. “How did you mean it then?”
Bob stops our almost argument with, “Okay. You can go.”
We both turn to look at him in disbelief.
Watching him a while, I ask quietly, “Really?”
He nods once. “Yes. I trust your judgement. If you tell me you’re ready, I believe you.”
I tell him, “I am. I can do this.”
He breathes in and replies on an exhale, sounding suddenly tired, “I know you can.”
Right then, I vow that Bob won’t have any reason to feel anxious about my working at Mirage.
I can do this.
I can.
Chapter Four
“The key is to not think about them as people,” informs Bob. “You should think about them as pests that need to be exterminated.”
I nod vacantly while making mental notes.
Pests. Not people. Check.
This is really happening. I feel dazed and overwhelmed with the information being drilled into me in such a short amount of time.
Frankie walks with us. She adds, “The thing that’s hard to get past is that they look like regular people. And they may be people, but they aren’t good people, Cat. They’re scum, and they need to be stopped, whatever the crime. They wouldn’t be in our system if they were law abiding citizens. You got that?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
A mixture of excitement and fear causes adrenaline to violently course through my body. So much, it threatens to make me sick. I close my eyes and control my breathing, forcing myself to keep calm.
To tell you the truth, there is nothing about tonight that scares me—apart from the fact everyone expects me to fail.
That scares the crap out of me.
I give myself an internal pep talk.
James was a mistake. Never again. You can do this. You’ve been training for this since you were five years old. This is your second nature—your calling in life.
And most importantly...
This is God’s will.
I have had that fact drilled into me for forever. I have to believe that this is God’s will. If not, I am just a criminal, no better than the people I am to hunt.
Bob leads us through the kitchen, out the backdoor, and past my garden. We walk until we reach the barn that sits at the very back of the property. It’s an absolute eyesore. It almost ruins the elegance of the rest of the property, but that eyesore is there for good reason.
The big barn doors look old; it’s paint is peeling and faded. Bob avoids them, instead, moving to the side of the building to a steel-reinforced door with a keypad on the side. He keys in a six-digit number. “If you do well tonight, you’ll get your own code.”
Frankie smiles at me, and it calms my soul.
At least she believes in me.
The steel door whirs and vibrates a moment before we hear the latch click over. Bob pushes it in and we follow him inside. A spotlight comes on, bathing us in bright light.
Four vehicles sit covered by gun-metal grey covers, taking up most of the space in the barn. Bob moves silently between the cars towards the very back wall of the barn, where another steel door awaits. And my heart skips a beat. Or two.