Jaz was left stunned. The man had come from nowhere, and left as quickly as if he were a shadow. She couldn’t remember what he looked like; there had been nothing truly special about him, nothing shocking or interesting. He had been plain-looking, ordinary. A pavement artist in every way. Who was he?
Jaz had only met one person like him before. She couldn’t remember the other man’s name, couldn’t remember why she knew of him, only remembered being introduced, shaking his hand, and then later watching him closely. He intrigued her; he had a natural genius to him that she struggled to understand. Who was he? Was this man like the man she had met, so long ago that she could barely remember it?
And why had he talked to her?
Most of all, how did he know her last name? She had gone to great lengths to keep her last name hidden. It was only known to her boss. Even he didn’t know her full name.
Jaz kicked herself. The man had seen the money, the gun, and her apartment! She ran into the hall and looked up and down. The elevator was silent, there were no echoes from the stairwell, and not a thing moved. There wasn’t even a breeze left, as there usually is when someone rushes out of someplace.
The man had disappeared as easily as Jaz did at the club. He had been unnoticed, and when people don’t notice something they don’t ask questions. Jaz knew it would be futile to ask the manager and the doorman if they had seen him. No one would see him, unless he wanted them to. So why had he wanted to Jaz to see him?
Too much to digest. Time for a little light reading.
Jaz walked back into the room slowly and locked the door behind her. She walked over to the couch where she had thrown her stuff and picked up the folder the boss had handed her.
“Tom Symcox. Interesting…” she browsed through the information in front of her, marveling at the man’s ability to elude the business’s two best operatives. “Guess that makes me the best now, huh…” Jaz mumbled to herself.
“6’3, brown hair, blue eyes, ooh! Cute face. Of course. I get to take care of the cute ones. Hmm. Athletic. Duh. Graduated from Yale—damn! Double major. Psychology and philosophy. Really? Chess team. Weird…athletic and nerdy. Well, sheesh. This oughta be fun. I hope this guy puts up more of a chase than that wimpy Vann guy did. What a loser…”
Jaz’s eyes jumped over the pages of info, appraising the man, his lifestyle, and his every move. “Works for…a Fortune 500 company. Who’d a thunk. Makes a butt-load of money. Why does this guy owe us? He makes bank…ohhh. Living a little beyond his means. Or did…it looks like he has enough to pay boss back now. Why doesn’t he? Probably enjoys the thrill of the run as much as I like the chase.” Her eyes sparkled menacingly when she thought of how enjoyable this task would be; cat and mouse was her forte, but bird of prey was her absolute favorite. Swooping on unsuspecting victims was such an adrenaline rush.
But then, that came with the name. She was a Hawk, after all.
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