18. Chase

"Are you sure this is it?"Mercy asked as we pulled down the long driveway to Jones's place.

"It should be." I remembered the address from a meeting a year ago. I wasn't sure why it stuck with me, but it had. Now, I just had to hope that Jones would take us in. He wasn't known for being the friendliest sort of guy—not that I'd ever met him in person—but I hoped he'd be accommodating to a woman in danger. That, and I hoped he would help me even though he'd never met me before.

The driveway twisted for about a mile before I finally saw a glimpse of the house. And sitting right outside was a minivan I knew all too well. Smirking, I shifted into park and got out, walking over to Patrick and Nick.

"You made it," I laughed, pulling Patrick in for a hug.

He flinched back, staring at me like I was insane. "What are you doing?"

"Um…I was hugging you."

He pushed my arms away. "Which is disturbing enough as it is, but you also fucking smiled. What's wrong with you?" He looked over my shoulder, presumably at Mercy, and shouted, "What's wrong with him?"

I heard the car door slam and turned to face her. "Nothing that I'm aware of. Why?"

"He hugged me. And he's smiling. You broke him."

Mercy looked confused by the whole thing. "So, how did you find me?"

"Tracker."

I should have known. It's not like I could ever get away from OPS without someone keeping an eye on me. "I'm surprised you only brought Nick."

"Well—"

"Hey! Hey, guys!" I heard, coming from the trees.

I groaned, rubbing my eyes tiredly. "I really don't have the willpower to put up with him right now."

"It wasn't my choice. He was driving Cash crazy."

"So, you decided to force me to deal with him?" I asked incredulously.

"Hey, you didn't have to ride in the minivan with him the whole time. We stopped for gas and he had a debate with some dad about the benefits of having a minivan like ours."

"They don't sell minivans like ours on the street," I pointed out.

"Exactly!"

Mercy stepped up beside me and I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her in close to me. "Guys, this is my Mercy. Mercy, this is Patrick, and that evil looking guy is Nick."

Nick glared at me. "Thanks. Hey," he said, holding out his hand.

"Seriously, what did you do to him?" Patrick asked. "Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"

"Neither," Mercy laughed. "I swear, he's been like this as long as I've known him."

That took Patrick by surprise. "You mean, he was like this in the jungle?"

Mercy nodded.

"That means the problem started before then."

"Hey, guys!" Fox shouted, running out of the woods, holding up a dead animal. "Look what I found for dinner! Raccoon should make great shawarma!"

I was about to tell him that was disgusting when Nick stepped in. "Raccoons carry leprosy and roundworms."

Fox stopped and immediately dropped the raccoon. "Seriously?"

"And also rabies."

Fox stared at the critter, then glanced at us. "Am I going to die?"

"Unfortunately, probably not," Nick retorted.

"Why unfortunately?" Mercy whispered.

"You'll find out soon enough."

"This must be that gal pal of yours!" Fox grinned, running over to us. Just as he was about to wrap his arms around her in a big hug, I snatched a stick off the ground and warded him off with it.

"Step back!"

His face morphed in hurt. "Why would you do that? Do I point sticks at you?"

"You would if I was about to hug your wife while carrying a potentially fatal disease."

"Relax, the little guy was already dead."

"Which means he probably died of rabies."

"Or it could have been the fact that an animal had eaten most of its head," Fox countered.

"Either way, you're not coming near her until you wash your hands. Better yet, until you take a shower."

Fox leaned around me to look at Mercy. "Is he always like this?"

"Um…"

"Yes," I bit out. "No touching until I'm sure you're not infected."

"Fine, but that doesn't mean I can't get to know the lovely lady. Would you care to accompany me inside? I make a lovely cup of Matcha tea."

"Actually, I'm not much of a tea drinker," Mercy said, skating past that one.

"Before we get carried away with drinking tea, maybe we could sit down and figure out who the hell is trying to kill us."

"Fine," he sighed. "If you think that will help."

Frowning, I turned to Nick. "What's wrong with him?"

"He didn't get to meditate the whole way here. He said our bad moods were throwing off his…something. I don't know; I stopped listening after being in the van with him for five minutes."

"Have you seen Jones yet?"

"Actually, no. We called, but he didn't answer. He might not even be here. Cash said he hasn't been returning his calls."

"And that's not unusual?"

"Jones wants to be left alone," Fox said, pulling a ball of cheese out of his pocket. "He doesn't like visitors. Want some?" he asked, holding it out to me.

"You carry cheese around in your pocket?"

"Well, it's the healthy alternative to Funyuns. I mean, I do miss the wonderful flavor, but I feel really centered when I eat cheese. Although, maybe a little bloated, if you know what I mean."

I ignored him and got back to the subject at hand. "So, are we breaking in or what?"

Fox gasped, pressing his hand to his chest. "Don't be so savage. This man is our friend. He's helped us out more times than was necessary. It would be wrong to invade his privacy like that."

"So, we drove all the way out here, but we're not going in?" Patrick asked. "He probably has an arsenal in his house, which is kind of what we need right now."

"I won't be part of it," Fox said, turning up his nose at us. "If you're going to break in, you're on your own."

I wasn't standing around out here waiting for someone to make a decision. Mercy and I had been through hell and back, and we needed a fucking break. I hadn't even had time to thoroughly clean her feet, though I suspected she took care of hers—and mine while I was asleep.

Stomping up the steps to the house, I banged on the door, just to make sure he was actually gone before barging inside. Patrick and Nick joined me, but Mercy hung back, leaning against the car. I couldn't blame her. It was strange enough to be around all these people she didn't know without showing up on some guy's doorstep to beg for a place to stay.

"See? He's not there," Patrick said. "But by all means, knock a few more times and waste the sunlight."

I slowly turned to him and scowled. "If you want to break in, go for it."

He grinned at me, clapping me on the shoulder. "See, that's what I'm talking about. It's good to have you back."

"I was never gone," I grumbled.

"Well, sure, not in body, but your head was on the fritz." He shoved me aside and got down on his knees, pulling out a lock pick set. He whistled as he got to work, taking way more time than Fox would have. Unfortunately, Fox was on hiatus from doing anything that was deemed wrong.

"Why did Fox come along anyway?" I asked, staring over at him. He was doing some sort of yoga thing right in the middle of the fucking driveway. "It's not like he's gonna kill anyone."

"To piss me off," Nick grumbled.

"Ah-ha! Success!" Patrick grinned, stuffing his kit in his back pocket. "Would you like to do the honors?"

He bowed low, allowing me to step in front of him. I barely restrained punching him in the face as I marched forward and turned the handle. But that was as far as I got. I heard a faint click and time stopped. I turned to Patrick just as he reached for me, grabbing my shirt.

In slow motion, he jumped, flinging me off the porch in the process. Nick was leaping over the railing when the whole house exploded in a ball of fire. We were thrown from the force of the detonation, landing far from the house. I hit the ground with a thud, bouncing and rolling as my side took the brunt of the damage.

I vaguely heard Mercy shouting and felt hands on me, patting me down, but everything was fuzzy. A loud, piercing sound rang through my head with every moment that passed. It wasn't until I was rolled over that I saw Mercy and my survival instincts kicked in. I grabbed her, throwing her to the other side of me to protect her. Spinning around, the whole world tilted on its axis, but I kept myself steady as I pulled the gun from the small of my back.

Everything bobbed and weaved in my vision, but it was the bright orange flames that made it impossible to tell what was going on. I struggled to my feet, stumbling as I tried to hold myself upright. Hands grabbed at me, shoving me away from the burning house. The burning sensation finally receded enough that I didn't feel like I was about to burn alive.

"Let me see!" Mercy shouted, pushing me down on the ground.

"I just got up," I mumbled, looking at her strangely.

She looked terrified, but I wasn't sure why. Then again, while the piercing sound was growing dimmer, the swaying in my vision was getting worse. I had the distinct feeling that I was not going to stay awake for long.

"Shit, he's gonna pass out."

I nodded as best I could before slumping forward and meeting the ground.

"Turn the fucking music off!"

"It's soothing. It heals?—"

"I don't give a fuck what it does. My head is killing me!" Nick shouted.

Wincing, I sat up, rubbing my stiff neck. We were in the minivan and hauling ass down some dirt road. When I tried to move, I realized something was holding me in.

A seatbelt.

That should have been obvious, but the apparent head injury was not helping me think clearly. I fumbled with the lock before releasing it and falling forward.

"What are you doing?" Mercy snapped, shifting between the back seat and the middle. She caught me and shoved me back, then pulled the seatbelt back in place. She grasped my head in her hands and shined a light in my eyes.

I shoved her hand away, wincing at the bright light.

"Will you hold still?"

"I'm fine," I slurred. Maybe I wasn't fine.

"You passed out. You hit your head and you got blown up."

"You can't get blown up unless you're on fire," I mumbled.

She gripped my face and forced me to look down at my clothes. I pressed a finger to one of the holes and wiggled it around.

"What d'ya know," I slurred. "I got blown up."

"No kidding. Stay," she commanded, leaving no room for arguments.

I sort of saluted. It was really more of my hand moving slightly, but the intention was clear in my head. I rolled my head and looked out the window. Fuck, everything was flying by at a dizzying rate. And what was with all the colors? This was so weird.

"What's happening?"

"You're drugged," Mercy said from the back.

"Really?"

"No, as you said, you got blown up. What you're seeing are the effects of the concussion."

"Oh." That made sense.

I turned as much as I could in my seat and watched as she looked over Nick, who was sitting upright in the back seat scowling at her. She was tending to his wounds, which made me a little jealous. Why wasn't she tending to my wounds? Crap, was I really jealous over who she was taking care of? I must have hit my head harder than I thought.

Patrick nudged me, and it was just then that I realized he was in the seat beside me. Holy fuck, I needed to have my head examined. "Cheese?"

I grimaced, shoving his hand away. "Why would I want cheese?"

He shrugged. "I was hungry."

I leaned in closer, squinting at the blood dripping from his forehead into his eyes. "Does that hurt?"

"Probably as much as yours."

I fumbled around my forehead, pressing my hand to a gash. "Ow."

"Not to be the bearer of bad news," Fox said from the front, "but it appears someone wants one of you dead. Since Nick, Patrick, and I just got there, I have to assume it's you and your love."

"That doesn't make any sense. We just got there too."

"Right, but you're the only one someone is trying to kill."

Okay, there was that.

"So, I was thinking…if we go back, maybe we can catch whoever did it."

I leaned forward in my seat, jerking to a stop by the belt. "You want to go back? Our firepower is gone, along with the rest of the house."

"And Jones," Patrick pointed out. "Maybe he really was inside. I guess we'll never know."

"I say we go back, find the guys, and have a chat with them," Fox concluded.

"By chat, you mean torture the information out of them, right?"

"Actually, I was thinking…this would be a great opportunity to try out some of my new meditation techniques. If we could get them nice and calm, I'm sure they'll tell us everything we need to know. It's sort of like hypnotherapy."

"Sure, we'll just sit down with them and persuade them to be hypnotized," I muttered.

I rubbed my forehead. The longer I was awake, the more the grogginess of the concussion wore off. Now, all that was left was a painful throb.

"You're all lucky to be alive," Mercy snapped. "We're not going back unless I can be sure you're all cleared for action."

My lips twitched at her command and the way she said cleared for action.

"But it'll work," Fox argued. "I'm like…thirty-eight percent certain," Fox argued.

"Yeah, that's like saying you're thirty-eight percent certain you can fly a plane."

"Hey, those are good odds if you're in a jam," Fox said.

"We're not going back. I won't put Mercy in another bad situation. We need to recoup and…not be blown up."

Fox scoffed. "I can't believe you're retreating. We never retreat."

"Yeah, we also don't sit down and calmly talk shit out with our enemies, but that's all you seem to want to do."

"It's still not retreating. Besides, this is better for me. I feel calmer. I really like this new vibe I've got going."

"Yeah? And what does the Kamau think of that?"

"Oh no," he whispered. "How did I not think of this?"

Oh no? Who was this man sitting in front of me?

"I'm guessing the Kamau wouldn't like your approach."

"Actually, I was wondering why I didn't think to bring him in on my new strategy. The Kamau is living this new, peaceful life. I have all the answers and didn't bother to find out if he'd like to join forces with me."

Patrick leaned over, keeping his voice low. "Not that this isn't fascinating, but what are we going to do?" He jerked his head at Fox who was still talking to himself about strategies for bringing Kamau into the fold. "Someone's trying to kill you and we have no idea who."

I rubbed my forehead, trying to focus on something other than the pounding in my head. Mercy was still tending to Nick, which was exactly what I needed. If she was busy with taking care of someone, she wouldn't be focused on the fact that she'd nearly been killed for the third time in less than a week.

"We should head back to OPS."

"No," Mercy cut in, obviously eavesdropping. "We need to stop now."

I glanced around her, seeing Nick fighting to stay conscious. Blood oozed from a wound in his abdomen and something jagged was sticking out.

"How bad?"

"A piece of metal lodged in his stomach. I need a clean room where I can open him up and make sure it's all gone and then stitch him up. We need to stop. Now."

I understood the urgency in her voice, though she was trying to tone it down. "I'll get on it."

She nodded and turned around, getting back to Nick.

"We need to get Cash on the phone and find a place to stop."

He pulled out his cell and dialed Cash, putting it on speakerphone.

Wailing filled the minivan as soon as Cash answered. "Yeah?"

The sound pierced my skull, sending pain ricocheting around my head. "Cash, we need assistance."

"You need what?" he called over the crying.

"Assistance!" I shouted.

"I can't hear you."

The wailing intensified and Fox snapped his fingers, holding out his hand. Because I didn't want to walk away with brain damage, I handed the phone over.

Fox belted out some long, low note that carried on for well over a minute. The crying died down, and when Fox ran out of air, he sucked in another breath and started over again. I shot Patrick a bewildered look, but he just shrugged.

Finally, the kid stopped crying and Fox slowly let the sound die out. "It's Icelandic throat singing. You're welcome."

"Uh…thanks."

"Better than show tunes, huh?" Fox grinned.

"Sure," Cash muttered. "So, what is it you need?"

"A safe house. We have some bad news," Patrick answered.

"When do you not have bad news?" Cash retorted. "Alright, lay it on me."

"We met up at Jones's place."

"And?"

"And he wasn't there," Patrick hedged. "At least, we really hope he wasn't there."

Silence met us for a moment. "And why's that?"

"Well, because his house, well, it's sort of not there anymore."

I could practically hear Cash grinding his teeth in frustration. "And why is it not there anymore?"

"Because houses tend to…disappear when they get blown up."

"Goddamnit," Cash shouted. "Isn't there anything I can trust you guys to do without causing a major disaster?"

"In our defense, all we did was open the door," I answered.

"And I was nowhere near it, boss," Fox shouted.

"Yeah, like I believe that."

"Really, I wasn't. I was actually contemplating what our dinner options were. See, I was going to make a raccoon, but then the guys informed me that raccoons carry all sorts of diseases. That actually surprised me. I've had raccoon at least six or seven times in my life and never had any issues."

I shot Patrick a look. "That he knows of," I whispered.

"Anyway, I was debating between squirrel and opossum. There really isn't a debate, though. While squirrels have less meat on their bones, it's harder to catch an opossum. Since they're out mostly at night, we'd have to wait to catch one, but you can hit a squirrel just by driving down the road. Really, there wasn't much of a choice?—"

"Fox!" Cash shouted. "What does any of this have to do with Jones's house being blown up?"

"Uh…I guess not a lot."

"Then why are you telling me?"

"Well, I thought you might like to know what we were doing, but perhaps I was wrong."

"I want to know pertinent details."

"Boss, all we need is someplace to lie low for a while. Nick went and got himself impaled," I explained.

"With what?"

"I'm fine," Nick grunted. "Give me some alcohol and I'll burn the fuck out of any infection."

"And pass out in the process," Mercy muttered. "Why do things the easy way with a doctor when you can torture yourself?"

"So, to be clear, you don't know where Jones is," Cash interrupted.

"That would be correct," I answered.

"Boss, he's most likely not blown up," Fox spoke up. "If he was, don't you think you'd feel it?"

"Through my psychic powers?"

"He's your guy," Fox continued. "You have this thing that you don't have with anyone else."

"You mean, like Eva?" Cash growled.

"Boss," he chuckled. "I have more with her than you do. Don't get me wrong, she's your woman, but we share something special."

"Fox—"

"A location, boss," I interrupted.

"Right. I'll let you know."

He hung up without another word. I glanced at Patrick, who just shrugged. "At least some things never change."