What have you gotten yourself involved with?
She’s wearing an oversized crop top and a colorful sarong. Neither is uncommon when you’re out by the pool, but I hate that I notice it.
I’m good at picking up on small details. It’s part of what makes a good Ghost. Seeing everything and knowing whatI can use to my advantage. With her, it’s different. I scan and analyze for no gain.
I just want to.
“No sly,” Voodoo’s voice hits my ear. “Simple girl, simple friend. Pure ordinary.”
Lilith stops near a flower bed, and reaches for a rose. She cups it in her palm, smiles brightly, then leans in for a sniff.
Pure ordinary.
“Tell me about him,” I say.
I tasked Voodoo with following Lilith a few days ago.
It started as a way for me to keep tabs on her comings and goings. I’d prefer to do it myself, but there isn’t enough time in the day, and I can’t have the Veil thinking I’m shirking my responsibilities.
Voodoo gave me a brief call about the man taking photos of her at the mall, after it happened, but we both decided the evidence was inconclusive given the surroundings. Now, however, we know there’s more to it than just voyeuristic tendencies.
He approached her.
And I want to know why.
“The other.” Voodoo’s on a different wavelength today. Practically reading my mind. A helpful ability when he’s on my crew as a watcher. “Small fella. Weak shoulders. Lots of pictures.”
Before I took him on, Voodoo made his living off intel. He gathered it in the open, his targets none the wiser.From what I understand, he also had a network of service delivery workers in his employ; maids, waiters, delivery drivers, and other such normal people whom no one would suspect.
Since we started our partnership, his network has expanded to every street in Midnite City.
“Of her?” I ask.
She moves from the flowers to the pool. She is scanning her surroundings nervously, her hands wringing over the knot holding her sarong in place.
My tongue drags over my lower lip eagerly.
I fucking hate that I want to watch her.
“Lots and lots,” his confirmation. “He’s not one of mine. Yours?”
“No.” His question, though well-meaning, comes as an insult. “You, Iniko and Fenrir are mine. Anyone else is trouble.”
“Then trouble,” says Voodoo. “Little man. Big trouble.”
“Do you have eyes on him?”
Her fidgeting stops, and her hands move up her body. She hurriedly pulls her shirt overhead and tosses it onto a sunchair next to her. Fuck, her tits look amazing in the dark blue studded bikini top. The more I watch, the harder it becomes to focus on my conversation and not deal with the problem growing in my pants.
She covers her breasts with her arms, before giving her surroundings another quick, nervous glance. She looks in all directions except for the most important one… mine.
Obviously coming to the conclusion that no one’s around, Lilith gathers her loose flow of long golden hair and ties it into a tight bun.
“No,” I hear the crackle of a cigarette between his teeth. “Will do.”
“When?” I ask.
“As we speak.” For all his accomplishments, Voodoo’s still what most of the world would consider a child. Barely past twenty, he flows with Midnite City’s trends. This broken English is part of a long history of using fewer words to convey a message. “As we speak,“ however, confuses the shit out of me.
