Austin Camacho - The Payback Assignment

She found Morgan in the kitchen facing the stove, wearing black jeans and those ever-present boots. His black tee shirt said, “nuke ‘em ‘till they glow” across the back. Conspicuous to her by its absence was his shoulder rig and the weapons it carried. The crackling sound told her that he was pouring beaten eggs into a pan, filling the room with the smell of slightly burned butter.

“Well, the man’s an early riser I see.” She stepped up behind him, went up on her tiptoes, and placed a gentle kiss on his neck.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For staying when I needed you,” she said while she pulled china from a cabinet. “And for not, you know, taking advantage.” She waited for a response but when she heard none she looked over at him. He was too dark to blush, but was that embarrassment she saw on his face?

While Morgan worked in the kitchen, Felicity set up a small, low table on the mezzanine at the other end of the room. When the food was ready, the pair took their scrambled eggs and toast to that table in front of the big window. Orange juice, fresh pears and cheese completed their breakfast menu. Chewing absently, Morgan settled back on the big pillow Felicity provided and got lost in the view.

“It doesn’t feel like being in the world’s fastest city at all, now does it?” she asked.

“You’re right,” Morgan said, pushing egg onto his fork with his toast. “It’s kind of like I’m sitting on the edge of a tranquil crystal lake.”

Felicity found her eggs scrambled hard, the way she preferred them, and quite peppery. That made them unexpected good. “Eloquent for a soldier,” she said. “But that’s just the feeling I get here. It’s like that’s New York over there, on the other side, half a mile away, while we sit here on a peaceful floating island. So. What shall we do today?”

“Business,” Morgan answered. “You hired me to do a job, and I’m on the clock.”

His response surprised her. It seemed that after sharing a relaxed moment in fantasy with him she had pulled him back to reality. “Oh yes,” she said. “You said you’d help me find this Stone character.”

“That’s why I was up so early,” Morgan said. “Made some phone calls. Which reminds me. I’m going to need some more spending cash because I’ve got a lunch date. Old contact of mine, another dude who worked for Stone in the past. We haven’t been in touch much, but he might know who Stone is working for now and where to find him.”

“Perhaps I should be doing the same,” Felicity said, her voice cooler. It disturbed her a little for Morgan to be all business. However, she realized she had created that relationship. Not wanting to be the damsel in distress, she had hired him instead of asking him for help. On that basis he probably felt that needed to show results. “You know, I could check with some of my friends in the business,” she continued. “The new owner is sure to want to wear that brooch I stole, to show it off you know, then hide it before the insurance investigators start looking this far away. A bauble that unique suddenly appearing in society will excite imaginations in my circles.”

“Good idea,” Morgan said, rising from the table. He took his plate and glass to the kitchen. Curiosity made her follow. She had to pry into his quietness.

“Morgan, I have to ask you something. Is it bothering you, spending my money?”

“Not at all, Red,” he responded. “I could always hit a cash machine. But I’m on a mission. You pay expenses.”

“And after?” she asked, hating the apprehension in her voice.

“After? If you mean about the money, I’ve got a couple hundred grand American dollars stashed away in a Swiss bank account. If you mean, what happens after we find Stone, well, I intend to harass his mysterious employer enough to get him to pay us both a bundle to back off.” He lifted the green flap over his watch. “I’ve got to run.”

“For a lunch date?” Felicity asked. “It isn’t ten thirty.”

“Yeah, but I got things to do before I talk to anybody,” Morgan said. “Which means I better go suit up.”

“Changing clothes?”

“No, just want my gear for this little meeting,” Morgan said.

“Mind if I watch?”

Morgan shrugged and headed for the guest room with Felicity close behind. In the room she watched the ritual with rapt attention. She wondered what went on inside this man’s mind as he placed a series of weapons so carefully about his person. One knife went into each boot. She watched him push on the top bullet in is magazine, confirming that it was full, and function check his pistol. After loading his automatic, he pulled back the slide and let it slam forward. He pushed a button on the side of the gun and the magazine dropped back out. Now he was able to add another bullet to the top of the column. She figured one must have stayed in the pistol.

“Aren’t there enough in there?” she asked.

“Well, it’s a ten round magazine in case I get stopped. Ten’s the legal limit, as if that somehow makes a gun less dangerous. I like to start with one in the chamber.”

“I’d think ten would be enough for anything you’d want to be doing,” Felicity said.

“There’s something to that, but on the other hand, that eleventh cartridge might be the one that saves my life,” he said. The grip looked thick to her, but in its custom made shoulder holster it was quite invisible beneath the lightweight black windbreaker Morgan pulled on.

“Lord, it fits like it was made for you,” Felicity said, trying to lighten the mood.

“The shoulder rig? It was. Wet molded and hand boned, with a hand rubbed oil finish. Got this half harness for maximum concealment, and the premium saddle leather it’s made out of will last a lifetime. At least, the lifetime of anybody in this business.” While he talked, Morgan pulled on a belt with a large square steel buckle.

“Won’t that thing hurt you if you’re moving around, like if you get in a fight?”

That brought a grin from Morgan. “Believe me, this special buckle might actually help me in a fight. I’m real careful to dress for comfort these days. I remember one time I hurt my back. In the field I wear this big knife in its sheath at the small of my back. Took a fall wrong and man, that hurt. Had to find a better way.”

After a final glass of juice, Morgan gave Felicity a peck on the cheek and left the apartment. When he closed the door, his mind was alive with conflicting thoughts.

He hailed a cab and pointed it downtown. In the taxi, his mind centered on Felicity. He was most uncomfortable with what he was feeling for this mysterious but beautiful redhead. He liked being in control of a situation, but he had certainly lost control of this one. Here he was, working for a woman, taking care of her business.

Or was he? Right now, he admitted to himself, he was on a self-motivated mission of revenge. The rules of the game had changed since yesterday, when Pearson and his partner had suddenly turned up. Morgan had made some nasty enemies who clearly had no qualms about killing and could set their machinery in motion in a matter of hours, cross-country. That alone implied incredible power. For his own selfish interests, he had to end that threat. He couldn’t simply leave dangerous people in a position to hurt him.

And wasn’t that the point? This was no time for beginning a long-term relationship, especially with an unpredictable, bullheaded, white, Irish expatriate, professional criminal with expensive tastes. Damn.

While the cab bumped down Fifth Avenue, he managed to drag his mind back to the business at hand. Hopefully, by moving to New York so quickly, he had gotten the jump on the enemy. He knew enough people in this town that, with any luck at all, he could track Stone down before Stone got him pinpointed. With luck! All in all, he liked it better stalking his enemies in the jungle.