Mind Thief Read online

  It was true. For all the dumb things she’d done, each time she always found a new way to screw up.

  He took another swig of soda. “Don’t let it get you down.”

  “Who said I’m down?” she said, maybe a little too defensively.

  “Your face. And ‘cause it gets everyone down, bein’ alone.”

  Quinn sighed. “Yes, he was a cop. It would never have worked.”

  “Did you love him?”

  She shrugged. “What difference does it make?”

  “Tell me about him.”

  Quinn hesitated, surprised by her dad’s curiosity. “He was smart. Generous. He cared about what mattered, about making things better. He was from Sunnyside, got out when he was a kid.” Joe nodded at that. “He was everything Wyatt couldn’t be, even if things hadn’t happened the way they did…”

  For some reason, it all hit her at once. The disappointment, the regret. For how everything turned out. For how Noah had turned out. Her burrito sat on the coffee table, only partly eaten.

  “So that’s it? He’s such a do-gooder he can’t deal with whatever you do?”

  “No. But it doesn’t matter. He turned out to be an asshole.”

  Her dad chuckled a little. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

  Quinn laughed. But it was a bitter laugh, carved out of the knowledge that she would probably wind up alone like her father, with little to comfort her but her work and her favorite beverage. She could now afford the real diablos with lime… but she’d enjoy them all alone.

  “You know I’m just messin’ with you, right? ‘Cause if there’s anyone who gets what it’s like to lose the one you love, it’s me. Your mother was the only one who got me, you know? And then she was gone, leavin’ me with a daughter to raise and a giant fucken hole in my heart.” He looked away, grasping his soda bottle tightly. “Drinkin’ was the only way I didn’t put a big fucken bullet in my head and leave you to fend for yourself in the foster care system.”

  Quinn stared at her dad. It was the first time in the eighteen years since her mother died that he’d even mentioned her, much less shared what losing her did to him. It had never occurred to her that his drinking, the thing that ruined him, had been a crutch he needed, at least for a while.

  “You ever think about meeting someone new?” she asked.

  “Nope. I’m good where I’m at.” He finished the empty bottle and tossed it into the recycling bin before opening a second. “But you… you’ll find a way. You don’t wanna end up alone.”

  “Want to or not, I made a choice to do what I do. And that’s more important to me.”

  “More power to ya, kid.” He unmuted the TV and sat back to watch.

  Quinn wrapped up her burrito, put it in the mini-fridge, and sat back to watch the game. She ended up staying to watch the entire thing, and it was the first time she’d done so in longer than she could remember.

  After saying goodbye, she put on her El Diablo jacket and ventured into the warm evening air. There was a light layer of clouds in the sky, muting the moonlight and making it seem even darker with the burned out streetlights. She kept her weapons close, just in case, as she headed to the train station.

  Then she saw movement from the corner of her eye. Suddenly, someone grabbed her and covered her mouth before she could scream, bear-hugging her so tight that she had no chance of reaching for her weaponry. Before she could engage her fists and elbows, everything went blurry… then faded to nothing.

  Chapter 7

  When Quinn came to, she tried to move and found that she couldn’t. She was bound, and her arms strapped to her sides. She panicked and tried harder, pulling against her restraints, knowing full well that it would do no good.

  What the hell?

  Then it started coming back to her. Hanging out with her dad, leaving his place, then… nothing. Someone had grabbed her and drugged her.

  She blinked, and her eyes began to clear. The first thing she saw was a pair of pendant lamps hanging from the ceiling, their orange glass casting a warm glow throughout the room. There was something familiar about them, about that glow. Her stomach jolted when it hit her.

  Noah. Noah had lamps like that, hanging in his bedroom. What the—

  “Recognize the lamps, do you?” came an amused voice. “You spent plenty of time in this very bed, after all, eyes facing that very ceiling.”

  Quinn looked over, and there stood Noah, leaning against the wall in slacks and a t-shirt, his shoulder holster still on. The holster itself was empty, and Quinn soon realized Noah held his service weapon in his hand, not pointing it at her but there nonetheless, reminding her she was powerless.

  “Too much time, apparently,” she snapped. “And I did a lot more than stare at that ceiling.” She didn’t know why she added that second thing, but for some reason it bugged her to have him even suggest she didn’t get as much out of those encounters has he had.

  “Oh, I’m sure,” Noah said, his tone heavy with sarcasm. “I’m sure screwing a jacker cop is a fucked-up sort of turn-on for you.”

  Quinn scoffed. Was he serious, thinking she’d gamed him? “Right. Like stalking me, drugging me, and kidnapping me is probably a turn-on for you.”

  Not to mention sending me ominous art and nasty-grams filled with threats, asshole.

  And then it hit her. She was at Noah’s place, bound on his bed. A gut-level, stinking fear permeated her, knowing that right now she was at his mercy… and that Noah could do whatever he wanted to her. And nobody would ever know.

  She couldn’t let him see her fear.

  “Untie me, asshole,” she snarled at him. “And if you do anything to hurt me, don’t think I don’t have safeguards in place that will fuck you right in the ass later.”

  Noah’s eyebrows went up. Amusement, but also genuine surprise at her threat. “You can take the girl out of Downtown and stick her in a cute sundress, but she’ll always be a Downtownie at heart.”

  Quinn’s panic waned a little. Something told her that whatever Noah’s intentions, they didn’t include torture, murder, or even arresting her. If he’d wanted those things, he’d have done so by now.

  Instead, he only leaned against the wall, looking almost irritatingly handsome with those dark eyes and dimples. Fortunately, his smug look of winning erased all that, leaving her only with the desire to punch him. And… even if he wasn’t going to hurt or kill her, he had plans for her and they couldn’t be good ones.

  “Why am I here, Noah? If you really wanted another round with the Downtown trash, you could have called.”

  His dark eyes flashed with anger. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m sticking with my Midtown options these days. I used to prefer Downtown women because they were less spoiled and understood what was important, but it turns out they’re trouble, just like I was warned.”

  Humiliation washed over Quinn. As much as she wished otherwise, the comment cut her. Because she saw the truth in it, and always had. No amount of her living in Midtown would change that.

  “But you already know that, don’t you? That I’m courting Midtown ladies these days, even bringing them to my place?”

  Fuck. He knew she’d been in his place the other night.

  “It seems mindjacking isn’t the only lawbreaking you enjoy,” he added.

  “Don’t get all high-and-mighty, Noah. The fact that I’m bound and waking up from being drugged proves that Sergeant Martinez isn’t so pure either. So you can cut the shit.”

  He came closer to her. “Tell me about these men in black, with the blackbird tattoos. The ones you flattened with your illegal energy weapon that night at Linden’s.”

  “I’m not telling you shit.”

  He shook his head. “Protecting your own kind, huh?”

  “They’re not my kind.”

  “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

  She couldn’t tell him anything. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  Noah’s jaw tightened. “You sure about that? You know my fa
ther has never been the same after one of you fucking mindjackers got through with him. You know that and you sit there and—”

  “No mindjacker would ever do what happened to your father, Noah!” she cried as she tried to sit up, only to be reminded once more that she was bound. She cursed and gritted her teeth. “Your father was attacked by a mind thief. They have lesser skills and no respect for the target—”

  “Spare me your we-do-it-for-the-right-reasons crap, Quinn,” Noah barked at her, slamming his service weapon down on his dresser. “You have no business rooting around in other people’s minds. And if you think you do, you’re even more disturbed than I thought.”

  “You think I do this for kicks?” she shot back. “You think the people I target aren’t sleazy pieces of shit, like Gary Linden was?”

  “It’s not your job to distribute justice. That’s what law enforcement and the legal system are for.”

  Quinn rolled her eyes. “Because those work so well.”

  As she argued with Noah, Quinn began considering ways to break free of her restraints. Her arms were bound, but her hands had some play, possibly enough to reach the tiny holster on her thigh. She began inching her hand over to find out.

  “Looking for this?” Noah held up her energy weapon.

  Of course he’d checked her pockets. But a routine pat-down would miss the other thing.

  Noah set her weapon down and crossed his arms. “The justice system isn’t perfect, but it works. And I can prove it to you.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You become my confidential informant, and I won’t arrest you and put you away for ten years.” He smiled, as if offering her the world.

  Quinn stared. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I’m not.” His expression changed to something almost genuine. “With your help, I can nail the people who killed the Lindens and attacked you and your partner that night. We can nail all kinds of them. And you can avoid jail time…”

  She could probably reach her groin, she decided. But she couldn’t do it without Noah noticing. Then she had an idea.

  She forced herself to cough. Then again. She was thirsty as it was, and played off that. “I need some water. Do you mind?”

  Noah stood there a moment, eyeing her like he didn’t want to leave her. Soon, he left the room, and Quinn quickly yanked her hand over and scrambled her fingers until her dress was up at her hips. Hearing the fridge open, she yanked the blade from its tiny hiding place and sliced at the twine that bound her. With a snap, she felt the release of the tension, then cut the rest until she was free.

  By the time Noah returned with a glass of water, Quinn had her energy weapon in hand, aimed at him. He didn’t react, other than to glance at the weapon, and then at her, his dark eyes smoldering with a new round of anger.

  She walked toward him, pointing the weapon at his chest until he set down the water glass and backed out of the room. She headed toward his front door, keeping the weapon trained on him. Then she paused.

  “You can take your stupid offer and shove it, Sergeant,” she sneered at him. “I’m nobody’s CI. I may have gotten under you in that bedroom, but I’ll never be under your thumb. That’s one win you’ll never get.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that,” he said coldly. “You can run all you want, Quinn. But I know who you are and I know where you live. It’s only a matter of time before I find you again… and I promise that next time my offer won’t be so generous.”

  “Is that right? Because I wonder what your colleagues at the EDPD will think about your having screwed around with someone like me, taking me out and sending me notes and art covered in your fingerprints. I also wonder what the media will think when I show them those little artifacts, and the log of all those times you called and messaged me.”

  Noah’s face hardened, his eyes dark balls of fire.

  “And I’m sure they’d love to know that El Diablo’s finest is stalking and harassing a woman, showing up to her apartment building—yes, I have witnesses—and even leaving her threatening notes to scare and intimidate her.”

  Noah’s angry expression shifted, like he hadn’t expected that last thing. “What the—”

  “Stay the hell away from me,” she warned. “We both have something to lose here, but the difference between you and me is that I can always find a way to do what I do. But you, once you get pinched, can never be a cop again. Remember that. And remember that you’re dealing with a Downtownie—you fuck with us one too many times, we will resort to desperate measures.”

  And with that, Quinn opened the door and left, closing it behind her.

  As a taxi took her to Mayfair, Quinn wondered which side of Noah would prevail—his need to win, or his love for the job. For her, the choice was easy. The job always came first. Time would tell whether Noah was the same way.

  Deep down, Quinn hoped he was.

  Chapter 8

  Quinn lounged in bed the next morning, sipping her iced coffee and enjoying a little cool morning air from her open window before it got too warm. She searched through the news headlines, but her mind kept returning to what happened a couple nights ago at Noah’s place.

  He hadn’t contacted or bothered her since. Yet, the whole thing still got under her skin. She’d hoped not only that Noah would leave her alone, but that he would do so because some part of him still cared for her and didn’t want to see her locked up. Because the truth was, not a day had gone by that she didn’t wish things had gone down differently, that Noah was any damned thing but a jacker cop.

  Now she saw how foolish that was. It was bad enough that they turned out to live on opposite sides of the fence. But now she had to contend with the reality of Noah… the hunting her down, the threats, the leaning on her.

  Her dad was right. She really did know how to pick ‘em.

  When her phone rang, she jumped, wondering if Noah was calling to offer up a few more threats. But it was Yolanda.

  “Good morning, Yolanda.”

  “Quinn,” Yolanda said, as warm and welcoming as always. “It’s time for us to have a chat.”

  Quinn held her breath.

  “Remi says you’re still struggling with the simulations. However, so are my other Tier Ones… and we can’t wait any longer.”

  A flash of excitement ran through her. “I’m listening.”

  “The job I spoke of before—the important one with the high-profile client? The client is George Hatch.”

  Quinn raised her eyebrows. “As in George Hatch of Scorpio Cooling Systems?”

  “The very one.”

  Holy shit.

  Scorpio Cooling Systems had cornered the market on air conditioning systems and repair, and deregulation had made it so the company had little competition even before the drought. Now it had none at all, which meant one of the most important commodities in El Diablo was expensive, prohibitively so for many Downtownies. Hatch, Scorpio’s illustrious CEO, was a pillar of success—raised Downtown, managed to educate himself before the drought hit, climbed the ladder to success. He and his wife were good-looking, likable society types who donated to lots of charities.

  “So what’s the story? And how does it involve the Jays?”

  “Mr. Hatch himself is being targeted by mind thieves. He reported a jacking attempt in the parking garage at his office, which was sparsely populated that late in the evening. The thieves subdued Hatch’s guards, but their attempt was thwarted by a silent alarm that drew his private backup security quickly, before the thieves could extract anything. The attackers escaped. Hatch admitted to being quite rattled by the attack.”

  “How do we know he’s not baiting us, like Linden did?”

  “Mr. Hatch gave us permission to conduct a limited mindjacking. It wasn’t difficult to locate memories of the attack, which corroborate his story.”

  “Was it the usual men in black?”

  “We believe so. Given their skill level and Hatch’s status, it’s likely. However, Hatch and
his security detail were blindsided, and Hatch was injected quickly, before he saw much. Which is why we need you.”

  “You want us to target the backup security guys,” Quinn surmised. “To see what they saw and hopefully get some information on the attackers.” Now that was a challenge indeed, worthy of a Tier One. Security guards at that level had military training and would not go down easy.

  “No. Not the security guards.”

  Quinn hesitated, then her jaw dropped. “You want us to jack Hatch himself. You don’t trust him, and you want us to see if he’s hiding anything.”

  “We can’t afford to trust anyone now, not after the Borelli job.”

  Quinn was speechless for a moment. Powerful people were always difficult targets. But someone of Hatch’s status was a whole new level of difficult because people like him knew they were targets and therefore made sure they were well-protected at all times.

  “This is high-risk job, Quinn. It may draw the Jays out of the woodwork. That’s why the compensation is high.”

  “I understand.”

  “Can I count on you?”

  “Of course. Hatch will never know we were there. And I’m more than happy to go after those black-clad assholes.”

  “This isn’t a search-and-destroy mission, Quinn. This is recon only—get in, extract as much data from Mr. Hatch as you can, and get out.”

  “Send me the info sheet, and Jones and I will start planning.”

  “You’ll have it by the end of the day.”

  Later, after doing some research on George Hatch, Quinn checked her watch. The mail had probably arrived by now. She’d gotten into the habit of checking it more often, just in case it contained any more special messages from Sergeant Asshole.

  She took the elevator to the lobby. When it stopped on the third floor, the doors opened and Merritt stepped in. Her red hair was in braids and her hands awkwardly gripping her toolbox, like she wasn’t used to carrying one. That seemed odd to Quinn, but it was entirely possible this was a new job for Merritt.