Wired by Liz Maverick Read Free Book Online Page A

slid the device back in his pocket, and I knew from his body language that he was leaving. With his eyes fixed on something behind me, he pulled a silver case from his breastpocket, retrieved a cigarette and absently tapped it on the lid.
    Only now did I notice his hands were free of the cuts and welts one would expect to see, given the evidence of the fight left upon Mason’s face. Leonardo seemed . . . healed. Odder than that, even, was the easy way he’d been moving his arm—as if he’d never taken a bullet. “How—?
    The tip of the cigarette suddenly slid across the silver case and Leonardo dropped the smoke to the ground. He curled his fingers into a fist, as if he were trying to resist something. “What is he up to?” he murmured, his eyes narrowing. “Mason’s working on something. So like him, these tentative fits and starts. His style is so rough. Bumping and jerking us around.” He frowned and muttered something under his breath about not being sure what layer he was on.
    â€œHe’s not even here,” I remarked.
    Leonardo murmured another gracious apology and checked his cell phone again. He seemed to be struggling with a decision, seemed aware of something to which I wasn’t privy.
    Then, without any warning, he pulled a gun from his waistband. I flinched, but he shook his head. “I want you to take this.” Flipping the weapon around so that the barrel pointed away from me, he handed it over, following up with a fistful of bullets from his suit pocket. “And these.” He poured the bullets into my free hand.
    â€œI already have some,” I said, in a voice that I hardly reco gnized as my own.
    â€œTake them,” he replied, strain evident in hisvoice. “And do not hesitate to defend yourself. This is not a game.”
    He grimaced suddenly, and I thought I heard him say Mason’s name under his breath like a curse.
    â€œWhat?” I asked.
    Leonardo either didn’t hear me or didn’t choose to answer. His gaze shifted beyond my right shoulder and he stepped back into shadow.
    â€œHey!” I tried to find his eyes in the dark, but to no avail, then slowly turned and looked over my shoulder. Nearly blinded by white light, my eyes took a moment to bring the fuzziness into focus. The buzz and blur of a busy office swirled once more around me. The receptionist was holding a manila envelope out. “Sorry for the confusion. It seems you normally do this by e-mail. But he said just to give you this.”
    I stared at her, just stared at her until she rustled the envelope under my nose. I managed to extend my arm and take it in spite of trembling fingers.
    â€œWho’s ‘he’?”
    â€œDunno,” the clerk said with a shrug. “Haven’t seen him around before.”
    â€œCan you describe him? Was he wearing a suit? Or just casual?”
    She looked taken aback. “Oh. I guess I really didn’t notice. I was on the phone and someone dropped it on the desk.”
    â€œThanks,” I murmured. She blended back into her workday; I glanced around at the hall. Leonardo Kaysar was gone, but a black cigarette lay under a chair.
    I went to open the envelope I’d been given, andsaw a jagged edge where someone had hurriedly run their finger to burst the seam. Had it been like that when the clerk handed it to me and I was just too distracted to notice? I looked inside. Nothing. I stuck my hand in and searched the corners with my fingers. Still nothing.
    I wheeled around and practically mowed down the new person being helped by the receptionist. “It’s gone,” I blurted.
    A crease wrinkled her forehead and she sighed. I held up the envelope to explain. “There’s nothing in here.”
    She shook her head, pursing her lips in what I interpreted as an effort to keep herself from calling me an idiot. “I don’t know anything about it,” she repeated.