Double Cross [2] by Carolyn Crane Read Free Book Online

he says.
    “Good.” I nestle my head on his shoulder, glad I didn’t bother him with our Ez problem. All of these imprisoned highcaps are twisted and dangerous, but we disillusion them and it’s over. The Ez situation is so minor when you compare it to what happened to Covian.
    Jimmy’s voice comes through the intercom. “Side entrance or ER?”
    “The ER door,” Otto says.
    We arrive at the ER entrance. It’s understood that I can’t go in, with all the press that will be there. Otto kisses me, warm and light.
    “Call me,” I say as he gets out. “Call me when you know.”
    I watch Otto disappear through the double door.
    Jimmy lowers the panel between us. “Home?”
    “Yes, please.”

Chapter

Four
    J IMMY STOPS THE TOWN CAR on my modest, well-lit block of cheerful storefronts and eateries tucked below brick apartments. We say good night and I get out in front of Mr. K.’s jewelry shop window, with its row of empty, black velvet necks. I pull open the door on the far side of Mr. K.’s and enter the tiny tiled entrance area.
    Three flights of stairs later, I’m at my door. Even as I unlock it, I sense him. Sure enough he’s in there, waiting on my couch like a bad guy in a B movie.
    “You are so pathetic,” I say.
    He puts aside his newspaper and crosses his legs. He’s wearing beat-up jeans I know well, particularly a rip in the thigh. I used to fantasize about sliding my hand in there.
    “How’s Covian?” Packard asks. “I got the report.”
    “Vitals looked strong. Otto’s there now.” I kick off my shoes, switching them for my fuzzy slippers from the closet. When I look up, his eyes are twinkling. “What?”
    “Your slippers.”
    I look down at my beloved bunny slippers, only one ear between the two of them. “What about them?” I ask, defensive. I never go around in front of people with my bunny slippers. Even Otto has never seen my bunny slippers.
    “I like them,” he says.
    I roll my eyes, but actually it makes me feel good. “Anything else?”
    “That’s what I want to know. All I got was the official report. Can you tell me anything they kept out of it?”
    “Otto thought one of them wore eyeglasses. Sort of squarish brown frames.”
    “Eyeglasses,” Packard says. “Another victim thought that.”
    “Same old thing otherwise—three guys in hoodies. They went for Covian first. And Otto’s shoulder was grazed—he’s fine, in case you’re wondering.” I walk around my little counter to get a glass of orange juice.
    “He’s not fine. The Dorks know he’s a highcap now.”
    “No way. There’s no way they recognized him.” I come around with a glass for Packard. “Here, even though you don’t deserve it for breaking in.” As he reaches out for it I catch the glint of his blue metal chain bracelet—his friend Diesel’s bracelet, actually. Diesel died in one of Otto’s makeshift prisons. When Packard put on Diesel’s bracelet last summer, he said he wouldn’t take it off until he strangled his nemesis with his bare hands. That’s never sat right with me. Packard’s a highly imaginative criminal, but he’s no killer.
    “Why wouldn’t they have recognized Otto?” he asks.
    “Because he was wearing sunglasses and no hat when they came at us. It’s weird—even just when he takes off his beret, nobody thinks it’s him. It’s this disguise we use. People never see through it.”
    Packard grunts.
    I sit across from him, steadfastly not looking at the torn area of his jeans. It’s strange to have him there, legs crossed, arm slung over the couch back—not so much sitting in it as completing it, as if the couch has been waiting for him.
    “He’s upset about Covian,” I say. “He feels responsible. He’s thinking about letting people know highcapsare the targets, not humans, and maybe even coming out as a highcap himself—”
    Packard cuts me off. “He won’t do that.”
    “He sounded like he might. He’s pretty upset.”
    “He won’t come