The Sniper. Kimberly Van Meter

      Chapter 5

      “Hey man, what’s going on? It’s like the whole world’s been turned upside down and suddenly you’re the main characters in an Alias episode.”

      Nathan edged past his friend George, not interested in having this conversation in the hallway. “What have you heard?” he asked, once George, a weapons expert who dabbled in conspiracy theories, closed the door and began the laborious process of flipping the intricate locking system he had in place. “What kind of chatter is there?”

      George shook his head as he flopped into his swiveling chair that looked a lot like a throne encased in black leather, and immediately appeared distressed. “Something’s going down, man. Something big. When you told me to start nosing around I said, yeah, hey man, that’s cool. I don’t mind poking my nose where it don’t belong. But I think I’ve uncovered some serious shit. I’m talking movie-plot, James Cameron–grade, Hollywood-type espionage. Bourne-Identity—”

      “I get the point,” Nathan interrupted, moving George along. “What’d you find?”

      “You know that kill order you intercepted for your lady...”

      “I’m not his lady,” Jaci corrected George stiffly, shooting Nathan a dark look. “We aren’t together. Haven’t been for two months.”

      “Right. Whatever. Anyway, the kill order for your ex, well, it was supposed to go deeper than that.”

      “What do you mean?” Jaci asked before Nathan could. “Deeper than what?”

      “And that’s the question, isn’t it?” George replied with cryptic flair. He startled Jaci when he leaned forward suddenly but then eyed Nathan. “Whose cereal have you pissed in lately, ’cause this job was a twofer.”

      “What are you talking about?” Nathan asked. “I saw the kill order—it was only for Jaci.”

      “No, you saw the dummy order. The real order was a murder-suicide twofer. So, that makes me wonder, who the hell did you cheese off that they wanted you out of the way, and taking the blame for some heinous crime?”

      “Good question,” Nathan agreed with a scowl. “Who indeed?”

      “Are you telling me that someone in your own organization wants not only me, but you dead, too?” The incredulity in Jaci’s voice mirrored how Nathan felt, as well. The situation had soured more quickly than milk left out overnight in the heat of summer. “This is just fabulous. So, now, I’m not the only one with a price on my head for reasons unknown but the man who is supposed to protect me is also wanted dead by the very people who sign his paycheck. Fabulous. We’re so screwed.”

      “Shut it down a minute, Jase,” Nathan warned, needing a minute to think things through. He looked to George. “Where did you find the real order?”

      “I cashed in a few favors. I know a guy who knows a guy who heard some chatter in certain circles,” George answered, clearly proud of himself for digging up such a find. “But here’s the thing—my skills weren’t able to uncover where the order originated. Whoever created the order must be someone important because no one’s naming names if they want to live to see tomorrow. I know stuff like this happens in the movies, but in real life? Makes me glad I don’t trust no one and I’m armed to the teeth.”

      “Focus, George,” Nathan muttered, thinking hard. “You might want to lay low for a while. You might be in danger, too, for poking around. Whoever buried this order isn’t going to be pleased that someone uncovered their dirty laundry. And if they have the skills to bury this order that deep, don’t you think they know how to follow your trail right to your padlocked door?”

      George sobered and sat straighter, his gaze suddenly serious. “I didn’t think of that. Aw, man, I don’t want to move. Do you know how hard it was to find this apartment in a rent-controlled area?”

      “George, you live in a run-down apartment building that was built in the ’50s. Let’s get real.”

      “Yeah, but my neighbors don’t bug me and they mind their own business. You can’t put a price on that.”

      “You can’t put a price on breathing, either,” Nathan pointed out dryly.

      “Good point. I’ll keep my eyes open.”

      “Anything else I should know?”

      “Just that you might very well be screwed,” George admitted with a chagrined expression. “That sucks, dude. I wish I had better news. So what’s your plan? Leaving the country?”

      “Leave the country?” Jaci gasped. “I can’t leave the country. I have a life here in this country. I have a job...I have...well, reasons to stick around like plans for the future and stuff like that.”

      “Good luck with that,” George retorted. “The guy they sent after you? There’s more where he came from.”

      “Who the hell do you work for?” Jaci stared in horror at Nathan. “The Mafia?”

      “Worse,” he answered. “The government.” He dug into his pocket and pulled a few hundreds free and tossed them to George. “For your trouble. You didn’t see us and you haven’t heard from me, either.”

      “No problemo, mi amigo,” George said, scooping up the cash. “Seriously though, dude. Watch your back. Someone’s gunning for you big time.”

      “Thanks.”

      George let them out and then as the locks slid back into place, Nathan and Jaci booked it for the truck. He’d been uncomfortable being out in the open before, but now he felt downright suicidal walking around in the light of day knowing a sniper could have them in his sights at any minute.

      Hell, the situation just went from bad to worse.

      Jaci was going to freak.

      * * *

      “A framed murder-suicide? Does that actually happen in real life? I mean, that’s a movie plot, not something that happens to real people who live normal lives with regular jobs like me. I’ve never even fudged my taxes before. Lots of people do it but not me—I’m terrified of being audited so I walk the line and give away gobs of potential write-offs because I don’t want to take the chance and now I have a killer, sanctioned by the freaking government, who wants me dead. Am I the only one who finds this remotely crazy to even consider as a possibility?”

      Nathan shot her a look but otherwise didn’t respond to her frantic rambling, which only spurred her to ramble more as her panic hit a crescendo.

      “What are we supposed to do? Pack up our lives and go on the run, changing our names every few months, living in rat-infested apartments so we can go off the grid? I don’t want to live like that. I can’t live like that. I can barely remember my social security number, much less a new identity every few months. I’d trip up and inadvertently give out the wrong information and probably get us killed! Oh, God. We’re living on borrowed time, aren’t we? Unbelievable. I was a good girl! I was honest and kind and compassionate. I donated to animal shelters and even adopted a village in Kenya because I read that five dollars a day could provide clean drinking water for an entire village and now...? I’m being hunted like a dog! Whatever happened to good karma? Surely I’ve banked a little by now!”

      “Jaci!”

      “What?”

      “Take a deep breath and shut up for a second. I will not let anything happen to you. I promise,” Nathan assured her, gripping her chin and forcing her to look at him. If she hadn’t been bordering on a nervous breakdown, she would’ve slapped his hand away, but as it was she was trembling on the edge and needed someone to take charge and tell her it was going to be all right even if it was total crap. “I’m going to figure out what the hell is going on and I’m going to stop whoever