Page 192 of Red Marked

He nods and goes into his room.

I unpack. It takes two minutes. I put the laptop on the desk, ready to bring along. Then I go into the bathroom and put on a little makeup.

We need to find this asshole.

We will find him.

My mind goes to Jett.

Please let the male be one of the ones we haven’t found a face for yet. Please let it be that simple. Please, please, don’t make me walk up to Jett’s door. I don’t want to have to go there.

I pull my door closed, and Flint is waiting.

55

Flint

Star closes her laptop at the same time I close mine. The two lids come down with one click, and neither of us says anything.

She tips her head back and rubs her eyes. Then she groans. It’s sexy because everything she does is sexy, but not as sexy as normal.

The restaurant has emptied and filled and emptied again around us. Our plates went hours ago. There are almost-empty coffee cups on my side of the table and a glass of water on hers.

“They were all a bust.” She looks at me. “I can’t believe it. I can’t.”

“I know. Magma got back to me a little while ago about the three we haven’t been able to find.” I open the message. There’s an address in the industrial park, and under it, a photo of a male with a heavy jaw.

I turn the phone around and slide it across.

She leans in and barely looks.

“That’s not him.” She pushes the phone back to me. “Not even close.”

“Okay.” I scroll. “So we’re down to the last two. One of them doesn’t work for Veridian anymore. He went in the layoffs. He’s at a hardware store on the coast road now.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.”

“Things change. You never know.”

She nods.

“Besides, it’s not even five minutes from here. We could scratch him off in no time.”

“And the last one?”

“He’s still with Veridian, but on a different site.” I stand and put my laptop in its bag. “Come on. We’re not going to find him sitting here.”

Star puts her laptop away and slings her bag over her shoulder.

We go to the car, which is parked out front. After putting the computers in the trunk, we get in and head out. The car is an oven. I crank the AC, and Star cracks her window. She has her elbow on the door and her chin on her fist. Her face is turned to the harbor.

Harbor Hardware is a long, low building with a big parking area.

“We need to buy something,” I say as we get out.

“Zip ties and duct tape.” She unclips her seatbelt.

I laugh.