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"No can do, L. You know the policy." She replied, pouring a generous serving of whiskey into a glass and sliding it over to me. "Now tell me why you're here. You ain't bleeding, so I know it's not a medic you're after."

"I'm looking for someone–"

"You've come to the wrong place. You know the rules here, Leighton. We don't rat on anyone, not even to others like you."

"I know, Mags. I'm not looking to start trouble for you and Harrison. I was just hoping I might see who I'm looking for and just… catch them where things aren't so neutral." I grinned.

"Drink your whiskey and then get out of my bar, Leighton. Whatever trouble you're looking to stir up, it ain't gonna track back here." Mags said in a stern voice.

"Can I at least wait out the rain? It's nasty out there. You wouldn't want me laid up with pneumonia or some shit now, would ya?"

"Fine, but if you tail anyone out of this bar, it won't be whoever you're after you gotta worry about."

"I know, I know. Pops isn't just a medic, he's a seasoned war vet and he'll have my head on a platter faster than I can say 'hey Pops'. I'll behave, alright. I just wasn't thinking when I decided to come here."

Mags narrowed her eyes at me and pursed her lips. "See that it doesn't come to that then, Leighton. You're one of our best customers. I'd hate to see Pop bury you for bad behavior."

She wandered off to the other end of the bar, cleaning and restocking as she occasionally scanned the patrons. I turned my back to the bar, leaning against it, and sipped my whiskey as I made a mental note of everyone present. None of the low-ranking soldiers for the Jackals were anywhere to be seen. It was all two-bit pimps and drug dealers. They were probably the only people who frequented the Cobra without needing Harrison or Mags to patch them up. Needing a medic was usually the only time I ever stepped foot in the place myself. But that happened often enough I'd gotten really familiar with the father-daughter duo that owned the joint.

I nursed my whiskey for the better part of an hour and watched the small-time criminals as they went about their business. The lone operators, and sometimes even the major players, liked to conduct deals in the Cobra. The ones beingmade weren't interesting to me; the players were too small-time to even be a blip on my radar. That was until Colin McDoyle strolled into the bar sporting fresh ink.

My eyes narrowed in on the red spider lily on his forearm. He hadn't had the ink the last time I saw him, less than a month ago. He strolled to a booth tucked in the far corner of the bar where three other men sat. None of them had caught my interest initially, but now I was curious what they were up to. As if sensing the shift in my mood, Mags moved toward me behind the bar.

"Not here, Leighton." She ordered, causing me to look at her over my shoulder.

"Of course not, Mags." I grinned, turning to face her fully and pulling my wallet from my pocket. "Sounds like the storm has stopped, so I should be on my way. You give Pops my regards, yeah?"

Mags frowned as I slapped a couple hundred-dollar bills on the counter. It was unnerving how she and her father seemed to have a second sense for potential trouble in their bar. But I wasn't an idiot. Reckless, sure, but not stupid. I wouldn't break their rules by following McDoyle from the Cobra. There weren't any rules that said I couldn't track him down another way, though. That was a loophole for me to exploit and avoid getting on Harrison's bad side. Still, I could feel Mags watching me until the inner doors closed behind me.

After putting a few blocks between me and the Cobra, I pulled my phone from my hoodie pocket and dialed Craig.

"What do you need, L?" He asked without preamble.

"An address on Colin McDoyle. Our local smack dealer seems to have landed himself a job with the Jackals."

"On it. Call you back in ten." Craig replied, ending the call.

I wandered around Southside while I waited for him to call back with Colin's address. My mind was already figuring outhow to get the guy back to one of our safe houses to interrogate him. He would most likely only lead me to someone else, but after a week, I needed any lead I could get. I nearly clapped when my phone finally rang.

"Address?" I asked, not bothering to say hello.

"Thirty-seven A, Brook Lane." Craig chuckled.

"Those rundown condos? Of fucking course." I snorted. "Thanks man, talk soon."

My annoyance over the long hunt quickly turned to excitement as I approached one of our safe houses. We had several throughout the city, each stocked with medical supplies, food, clothing, and tools for each of us should we need them. I was definitely going to need them to secure Colin somewhere I could interrogate him.

It took me twenty minutes to arrive at the apartment complex where I'd find the tools of my trade. The entire building was owned by a shell corporation, city officials having been paid off to prevent the place from tracing back to us. Craig had insisted on leasing out the apartments we didn't need to women with children in the Southside. Every resident went through a reasonably intense vetting process to ensure they were actually in need in exchange for a home that they could afford. For some reason, that made me think of Victoria; as I jerked open the front door of the building, the ache in my chest returned.

I growled and rubbed my fist against my breastbone. Something was definitely off with me, and I wasn't sure I liked it. As soon as Colin was safely stashed away, I would confront Victoria. The woman was driving me mad, and I hadn't even seen her in a week. Thankfully, nobody paid my odd behavior any mind as I stalked toward the apartment where we kept our things.

"Focus." I scolded myself once I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. "It's time to collect our prey and we can'tfuck this up. Rich is already mad. He might actually put me out if I don't get this shit done right. Secure the package, then deal withher."

Giving myself a curt nod, I moved to the apartment's back bedroom, where all my equipment was stored. It was sparsely furnished, with three massive chests along one wall and a twin-sized bed in the center of the room. Ignoring the chests, I moved to the bed and shoved the frame until my stash was uncovered. When we outfitted the apartment for our purposes, I'd shoved everything I thought I might need haphazardly under the bed. Now, my eyes scanned it all as I considered what I might need to capture Colin alive.

"Smoke bombs, rope. Grenades? Nah, no grenades, I need him alive, not in bits." I mumbled to myself, cackling at the image of Colin confetti filling the air. "Oooh, gas mask. I think yes! Lock picking kit, wire, and my trusty blackjack. That should do it."

I grabbed a backpack from the closet and stuffed all my goodies inside, the thirty smoke bombs taking up most of the space. There was no telling how long I'd have before Colin returned to his shitty condo. Still, I intended to be inside waiting for him, like a pleasant little Leighton surprise. I still needed to figure out how to transport him once I had him incapacitated, but that was future me's problem.