Read Phoenix for Free Online Page B

go back .
    Brad’s feet were about to hit sidewalk and
carry his ass back to Mort’s as fast as they could when the door
swung open.
    "Can I help you?"
    Brad spun around and almost tripped down the
steps. "Uh… well I…" He motioned around with his hand. "
    "Young man, are you alright?"
    In the doorway stood an older man, but it
wasn’t Mr. Henderson. He was tall, lanky, balding and gray, with a
thin mustache. Brad had seen this man before. He’d been wearing a
suit that time, and now he wore a bathrobe.
    "You…I know you," Brad managed to spit out.
He didn’t know it, but he had back peddled halfway to the street,
caught between fear and a burning need to piss.
    "You should come inside. Is there someone I
can call?" the older man asked. He held out a hand and was walking
across the porch.
    Brad waved his hands in front of him. "No,
no, no, that’s okay. I’m fine. I just, uh…" His eyes darted around,
looking for an escape. He was almost to the street. "I just have
the wrong house is all. Terribly sorry to have bothered you."
Instead of crossing the road, he stayed on the sidewalk, turning to
head down the street. He wasn’t positive if this man had seen him
come from Mort’s, but if he hadn’t, then Brad might be able to pass
himself off as just some punk knocking on the wrong door.
    "Wait—" the older man started. His jaw
clamped shut when he realized the younger fellow wasn’t interested
in sticking around. He watched until all he could make out was a
silhouette, then he went inside and shed his bathrobe. He pulled a
phone from his suit jacket and hit a button. "This location has
been compromised. Falling back to the rendezvous."
    As the older man was hanging up and sneaking
out of the house by way of the back door, Brad was frantically
clawing at his pants pocket, trying to dig out his cell. He didn’t
let himself look back.
    Brad dialed and Mort picked up mid-ring.
"Hel—"
    "Get out of the house." Brad was panting,
walking in no particular direction, just away from the Henderson’s
and Mort’s.
    "Wait, what? What are you talking about?
Where are you?"
    "Don’t ask. Just get out, now. Go to my
apartment, but don’t drive straight over. Take some detours. Make
sure you’re not followed."
    "Brad, tell me what’s wrong."
    "I can’t. Gotta put as much distance as I can
between me and him. Just get your ass moving." Brad hung up and
stuffed the phone back in his pocket. "Holy shit." Brad tripped
over the curb and danced out into the intersection. Lucky for him
it was after dark and sort-of late. The streets rolled up there
around nine every night. He speed-walked and brought up his radar,
blinking so fast he could barely see. No blips at all. "Holy
shit."
    How could his danger radar not be registering
anything?
    "Holy shit."
     
    * * *
     
    Brad hit the sidewalk outside his apartment
building at a dead run. The entire trip over, he’d detected no
danger at all, when he knew he should’ve. So he had no way of
knowing if he was being followed, if his radar was broke, or if the
man had beaten Brad to the apartment and was inside right now,
doing who-knows-what to Mort.
    Gasping for air, Brad barely noticed a
strange car parked next to Mort’s on the street, and instead ran
two steps at a time up the staircase and threw open the building’s
front door. He hated making so much noise at night, but fear drove
him. When he reached his apartment door, his lungs burned and he
was seeing double.
    Mort pulled the door open as Brad was
reaching out to turn the knob. "What the— did you run all the way
over?" He grabbed Brad’s arm and helped him inside.
    Brad couldn’t form words just yet, so he
wheezed his reply and hoped Mort could translate. He was led to a
kitchen chair, sucking wind until his teeth hurt.
    "Slow it down, boy. You’re
hyperventilating."
    No shit , Brad thought.
    "Here, breathe into this," said a very
feminine voice on the other side of the table.
    Brad’s vision was still blurry, but he