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More Rockhounds 2: Fatal Flaw
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More Rockhounds 2: Fatal Flaw
by CB Potts
Torquere Press
Copyright ©2007 by CB Potts
First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2007
NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser
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More Rockhounds 2: Fatal Flaw
by CB Potts
"Would you look what the cat dragged in?" Sean's eyebrow
arched upward, but his lips did not mirror the gesture. "I
always knew that you'd be back with your tail between your
legs." He wore a small smile now. "Sooner or later, it had to
happen."
"What can I say? You were right." I let the small duffel bag
I'd been carrying fall at my feet. "Here I am."
I stepped toward Sean, hoping that at a minimum, he'd let
me into his apartment—or that I'd luck out and get the best
case scenario: a pair of open, warm, welcoming, trusting
arms, grateful for my return.
No such luck.
Sean's long, lanky form stayed glued to the door jamb,
effectively barring my way. His right arm was rigid over the
opening, a firm, fleshy barrier to progress.
"I don't hardly think so," Sean said. "Not until you tell me
why."
* * * *
Why? That was a hell of a question, and I wasn't at all sure
I had an answer to it. Why was I on the doorstep of the one
man I'd spent the better part of two years avoiding, a man I'd
happily abandoned not once, not twice, but three times? Why
come back to the dark-haired demon who had used and
abused me for years, profiting from my expertise and
affection while offering only tattered shreds of hope in return?
There was only one reason I came back to Sean. One and
one alone.
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More Rockhounds 2: Fatal Flaw
by CB Potts
* * * *
"I came back because I had to," I forced my eyes up to
Sean's, searching them for signs: emotion, reactions—any
cues I could use to guide my next words. "You're the only one
who can help me now. The only one who understands."
There was a nod then, a subtle tip of the head, Sean's
black forelock brushing toward me. Not a big gesture, by any
means, but enough to let me know I had him.
Or that if I didn't have him, that I could get him. If I
played it right, just right. It had to be perfect. I couldn't
screw up now, or it would all be over.
"Understand what?"
"That I need you to help me find Parker Donovan." That
much at least was true, but not at all what Sean wanted to
hear. I rushed through the phrase to get to the more
appealing, if deceitful, bit. "I need you to help me find him,
and then I need you to help me kill him. That son of a bitch
has got to die."
* * * *
Sean's smiles had always been rare. Sneers were a dime a
dozen, of course, and he'd get this little half-grin when
something struck him as funny. But genuine full smiles, the
type that light up a room and transform a person's whole
face?
I could look back on all our years together and count those
on one hand. Count them on one hand and have enough
fingers left to type passably well.
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More Rockhounds 2: Fatal Flaw
by CB Potts
That was counting, mind you, the smile I was looking at
now.
* * * *
"I think," Sean said, dropping his arm, "that you'd better
come inside."
* * * *
It wasn't what I'd expected of Sean's place, not at all.
During our time together, he'd treated himself to refined
surroundings: chrome and leather, the odd artfully-thrown
sweater to add a casual air to an overly posed room. Modern
and masculine and expensive—that was Sean.
Or that had been Sean. Sean's room now was far different.
The windows had been blacked out, covered over with a
thick coat of paint. A thin line at the edges allowed one to
peer out, if you positioned yourself correctly, but no one was
looking in.
Had they been able to, it was hard to tell what they would
have made of the place. There was no furniture; a tussle of
blankets on the floor, rank and sweaty, obviously served as
Sean's bed. There were a series of long, thin black bags
against the wall, strangely familiar.
Parker had had bags like that. Lots of them.
Like Parker's, these bags held guns. The gleaming blue-
black of a barrel is unmistakable, especially coupled with the
sweet smell of gun oil to give the obligatory olfactory notice
of death nearby.
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