Further memories ropes, chains, fists, knees flooded my head until I felt sick.

I tossed and turned, dozed just long enough to taste dry sand in my mouth, and got back up again. I took a p.i.s.s and came out to find Odin standing there, looking up at me and wagging his tail. I took a step closer to him and reached out my hand to scratch his head.

Odin took the affection, then turned and headed back into the main room of the apartment. I followed, a.s.suming he was going to want to go out, but he didn't. He stopped, looked at me, then went over to his dog bed near the window. He lay down and placed his head on his paws.

"You think I ought to just sleep with you?" I asked him.

His tail answered me by thumping against the carpet. I went back into the bedroom, grabbed my pillow, and then came back to the living room again. With the pillow held to my chest, I looked down at Odin.

"This is ridiculous," I said.

Odin's tail thumped.

"It's not going to work."

More thumping.

Sighing heavily, I lowered myself to the floor and put my pillow down next to Odin's bed. I lay down on my stomach with my arms on top of the pillow and looked over at him.

His eyes shone brightly in the nighttime city lights reflected from the window, and he panted, which always made him look like he was smiling. He reached out with his tongue and licked my arm before putting his head back down on his paws.

"That's gross," I told him as I closed my eyes.

Sleep came eventually. It wasn't great, and I still had nightmares, but when I woke, Odin was there, watching me and thumping his tail.

I spent the next six weeks in my apartment researching. I took Odin out for walks, but December brought winter and the weather at the edge of the lake sucked, so neither of us wanted to be out there too long. The rest of the time he would just lay across my feet until they went numb, and I would have to throw his rubber bone to get him to move.

Sleep was still something of an issue.

On a good night I would maybe get three or four hours, but it wasn't usually consecutive. The dreams weren't any worse in fact, they were almost exactly the same every time but they still woke me up and kept me from going back to sleep. Not sleeping consistently was taking its toll on my ability to think clearly, research thoroughly, and generally p.i.s.sed me off.

It was the not knowing why the dreams had suddenly returned which was going to drive me crazy.

Mark's idea that my trek to the Arizona desert reminded me of Iraq wasn't a bad idea; I just didn't buy into it. I didn't have nightmares while I was there I didn't remember a single dream until after I had returned. Maybe there was a connection, but I didn't think it was the climate.

Lia.

As soon as the name entered my head, I refused to think about her. I would not dwell on the woman who wandered into my sights and made me feel something for the first time in ages. There wasn't any point; no good would ever come of it, and I simply refused to consider her.

How well was that working?

I stood up from the desk that housed my computer, stomped to the kitchen, and started pulling out frozen fruit. I added half a banana, some pineapple juice, and some flax seed to the blender before turning it on and cringing as the noise invaded my ears. I poured the smoothie into a gla.s.s, added a straw, and downed it while my fingers tapped against the counter. Odin walked up, sat down at my feet, and eyed me impatiently.

"What?" I snapped at him and then immediately felt bad about it when he looked so happy about me giving him a little attention, even if it was gruff. I'd been ignoring him a lot lately as I dived into the internet.

Odin stood, wagged his tail at me, and then walked around in a circle a couple of times before knocking into my hand with his head. I rubbed the velvety spot on top of his nose, and his tail wagged harder.

"Fine," I muttered. I grabbed his leash from the hook near the door and headed outside.

Lake Sh.o.r.e East Park was right behind my apartment building. It had a decent-sized dog run, lots of gra.s.s and trees, which Odin enjoyed, and was usually less crowded than Navy Pier. There was always a pile of kids at the playground, but we stayed away from that area. Odin had never really been around kids, and though he was quite well-behaved under normal circ.u.mstances, you just never knew what a kid might do. If Odin got agitated and snapped at someone...well, that would draw way too much attention to me.

Besides, I liked Odin. If he bit someone, and they told me I had to put him down...well, that wouldn't go over well. I imagined there would be a lot of dead bodies around, but none of them his. At least, not until someone managed to take me out.

They would, too. Nice little park like this, surrounded by high-rises there were plenty of places for snipers to hide out and strike without ever being seen. It was part of the reason I chose to live in the area. That and the dog-run.

We traversed all of Odin's favorite trails, circled the whole park, and paused to rest while I checked out the specials at III Forks. I hadn't been out to a restaurant for a while and wondered if Bridgett would like to go out for dinner sometime. I could call the pimp up early on and tell him to dress her up for me in something a little cla.s.sier than thigh-high stockings and see through tops. h.e.l.l, I could get her a dress myself and then she could keep it.

I nodded to myself and decided to do it. That would be better anyway, since pimps were a.s.sholes and he'd probably just take the cost of a dress out of her cut of my money.

I wondered how Lia would look all dressed up for a night on the town but shook the thoughts away again. Thinking about it definitely didn't help, and I had a reason to consider Bridgett instead.

My mind wandered to her body and dwelled on the curves of her t.i.ts and her a.s.s. My hands remembered the feeling of her, and I decided she was probably about a size eight. I recalled just exactly how much I needed to bend over to kiss her and figured she was five-six.

That ought to be enough information to get a dress picked out for her.

"Come on," I said to Odin, and we started back home. I cringed a bit as the door of the parking garage exit across the street from the dog run opened, blaring out a warning signal that echoed through the otherwise peaceful park. It was a fairly recent addition to the area, and the noise always p.i.s.sed me off, public safety be d.a.m.ned.

We crossed the street and headed over the gra.s.s towards my building. As we did, thoughts of obnoxious noises, dinners out, and hookers left my head as my target took over my mind. The more I considered it, the more I knew this job was exactly as described f.u.c.king difficult.

I needed to do more recon.

As soon as we were back inside and Odin's leash was put away, I walked back to the computer, pulled up Ashton's official schedule, and called Jonathan.

"I need a plane ticket to New York."

"Chasing what's-his-name?"

"Yep."

"Hold on."

A few moments later, Jonathan provided me with an online account number and all the credentials I needed to get a plane ticket. Ten minutes after that, the dog sitter was arranged. Within a half hour, I was throwing s.h.i.t into a bag and calling a cab.

New York wasn't my favorite place, but Manhattan did give me a lot of options as far as rooftops went. People didn't really pay any attention to who you were, either, which made it a good place to be when you were looking to kill people.

The food was pretty good, too.

From the top floor of a hotel and through binoculars, I crouched down on a balcony and watched the crowd around Brad Ashton and his security crew. There were others there, of course media people for the most part, but a few fans and other celebrities as well. Some chick who was bouncing up and down like she was on a f.u.c.king pogo stick was obviously annoying Ashton. His jaw tightened when he turned to her, and his shoulders would go stiff when she spoke or reached out to touch his arm. He was still smiling and putting up with her, so I could only guess she won some kind of contest.

Those things should be fixed.

I put the binoculars down for a moment and grabbed a sandwich off the room service tray. I chewed while contemplating which of the four guys around Ashton needed to die. Jim was out of the question, so that left one of the other three. They were all in my field of vision, which meant blocking Ashton. I had originally hoped I would get lucky, but found out soon enough Rinaldo knew what he was talking about picking off Brad Ashton from a distance wasn't going to work. They were all over him all of the time.

Besides, if I killed one of the guards right in front of Ashton, he'd be just a bit on the suspicious side. He'd increase security to the point where I wouldn't be able to get close enough, and that just wasn't acceptable. I needed to go with a lot more subtlety.

As I used my binoculars to scan around me, I could see various security people placed on at least two rooftops and likely on top of the building where I perched as well. They alternated looking around at the ground floor and checking out the skyline. Ashton knew he was a target, no doubt about it even this far from Chicago. With him on the alert, I was going to have to do a lot more waiting. I didn't really mind the waiting too much. If it all worked out, it would be well worth it, and I was used to being patient.

I followed his tour for two days in New York and then another day in Boston. From there he went to Orlando, which was a nice change of pace from the winter weather up north, and he finally boarded a plane back to LA. That's when I returned to Chicago to study my notes.

There were some definite trends I could use to my advantage.

Once Brad Ashton was in the safety of his hotel, the security guys were free to do what they liked, more or less. Mostly that involved the bar and football, though talk of the upcoming basketball season was also prevalent. There was one guy who always stayed behind, but he seemed to be more of a PR guy or agent, not a security guy. He was probably just a manager with a thing for the little earpieces.

I knew which one I was going to kill.

Henry Jefferson. He joined the group about six months ago, which made him the least senior, the least tight with the group, and the least likely anyone would go looking for when he disappeared. He also lived alone, didn't seem to have a lot of close friends, and would probably go a few days before anyone missed him.

In a week they would be in Cleveland, which was just about the right distance. The timing was also perfect right before the holidays, a time when everyone would be busy with other concerns, which could buy me a little more time before his death was discovered. Three days after New Year's they would head for Atlanta, which was where I planned to end Ashton.

Up close and personal.

Probably more personal than I cared to be, but I had to do what I had to do.

I hung out on a bench in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton in Cleveland. The bench was off to the side near the gift shop and an unlikely place for Jim or anyone else to notice me. I hadn't gotten an actual room since I didn't plan on staying long. I only needed to do a quick job and then get back on the road as early as possible. I wanted to be home before midnight.

I hadn't picked up Bridgett recently, and I was in the mood to f.u.c.k.

Patiently waiting, I watched various people go by. Families on vacation, college-aged couples with Rock and Roll Hall of Fame T-shirts, and uncountable businessmen and women wandered through the lobby on their way to the elevator, the lounge, or to inquire at the front desk about their valet parking voucher.

None of them seemed to notice me in my business-casual Dockers and navy b.u.t.ton down. I blended in, sat back, sipped at a bottle of Evian, and waited.

There he was.

Like he had most days, Henry Jefferson came back to the hotel around lunchtime to sleep. His was the overnight detail, and his shift officially ended at nine o'clock in the morning. He would go find a place for breakfast before going back to the hotel to sleep.

I stood and followed him into the elevator.

As he tapped his finger against the round b.u.t.ton with the number seven on it, he blew out a long breath and grumbled. Taking a step back, he gave way for me to hit my own number, but I just smiled slightly and nodded at the already indicated floor.

There was something definitely off about his behavior.

Every time I had observed him before, he had the typical calm and quiet demeanor of a career security guy. He kept his hands behind his back except when he needed to put one of them up to his ear piece to look super cool. His suits were tailored, his shoes shined, and though it wasn't in his history, he probably would have made a decent Marine.

Jefferson was either really tired or agitated. He rubbed at the corner of his eye once, sighed twice between the first and seventh floors, and stared at the elevator door as if he was expecting it to try to clamp down on his arm. He tapped his toe a lot, and his hands kept gripping into fists.

Something had p.i.s.sed him off. Not part of my plan but rather handy. If I had the good fortune enough for him to have had some kind of incident either at work or with a coworker, my plan was going to be even smoother than originally intended. There was nothing better than a convenient patsy.

The elevator chime went off, the doors opened, and despite the glare, Jefferson's arm wasn't captured by the machine. I still smiled a bit at the mental imagery and followed him quietly out of the car. He glanced over his shoulder once but didn't pay any attention to me afterwards, so I stayed fairly close.

Some security guard.

Maybe he wouldn't have made a decent marine after all.

I glanced up and down the hall and was pleased to see there was nothing but a single maid's cart at the far end of the hallway. There wasn't even a maid standing near it. Jefferson's room was right off the elevator, far from the room where the cart was standing. He slid his key card in the slot and stepped through the door.

I was right behind him and followed him swiftly through the doorway. I stood just inside, listened for the click as the door closed behind me, and followed up with a bullet in the back of his head before he even had a chance to realize I was in the room with him.

The whole thing took about six seconds.

I loved silencers.

Grabbing the body quickly, I moved it around the corner of the bed to conceal it a little better before the blood started seeping into the carpet. I failed to be quick enough to avoid a mess, but it would be minimal. Kneeling down next to the body, my gloved hands went through his pockets and came up with his wallet. I pulled out a credit card and used the on-line app provided by the hotel to extend his stay an extra week.

That could buy me a little extra time or not, I didn't really care. I hoped by the time he was discovered, I would be completely done with this whole a.s.signment, but if he was found earlier, I didn't think it would change much.

I stepped over by the door and looked into the room to see if I had hidden him well enough. Of course, anyone who peeked inside was going to see a decent amount of blood and brains on the floor, but it was slightly better than a body.

I put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door as I left.

Interstate 80 wasn't too crowded, and I made it back home in record time. A half hour later, Bridgett was in the car with me and headed back to my apartment. Ten minutes after we arrived, she was giving me head, and I was finally starting to relax a little.

That night I got some real sleep. It was a good thing, too, because the call came a lot sooner than I expected.

"Hey there, Marshall!"

"Who's this?" I asked, knowing full well who had called this particular cell phone number. There was only one person who had it.

"Jim Conner," he said. "We met at the Emba.s.sy and talked football."

"Raiders fan, right?"

"Yeah! That's me!"

We both laughed a bit.

"So did you ever find another job?" he asked.

"Not yet," I answered with a convincing sigh. "I had an interview a couple days ago, but it wasn't very promising."

"Are you still interested in some security work?"

"It would be my preference," I said. "This last one I applied for was more usher than guard."

"Well, I couldn't really talk too much about it before," Jim said, "but I might have an opportunity for you."

"Really?" I smiled as I leaned back in my chair.

"Yeah," he said. "I work for Brad Ashton you know, the actor?"

"Yeah, I know him. Well, I know who he is, anyway."

"As it turns out, we need a replacement security guy for an event coming up, and when he asked if we knew anyone, I remembered talking to you about needing a job. It's not quite in time for the holidays, but you could start the first week of January. You interested?"

Too f.u.c.king easy.

All right, it wasn't there was a lot of work to make it happen, but it always felt good when it all came together perfectly.