Page 5 of Snow Blind (The Technicians #14)

T he ache to her jaw added to the dull throb in her belly, which churned with acid as she sat behind the wheel of her vehicle, attempting to listen to the universe. A feeling like this didn't come at her often, but when it did, Helen recognized it as the start of fear. Why she felt afraid, Helen wasn't sure, but life had taught her to listen.

Another issue of contention for her was having to use her money to buy clothes for a dude that wasn't her man. Instead of embarrassing him by asking his sizes, she had rummaged through the burn piles of trash to find any remnants of the cut away pants, shirt, and jacket. Finding none, she used Mustang’s sizes, cutting Bryan down by four, and Helen made a note in her handy dandy planner of his sizes, then used her phone to search for local stores.

She sat behind the wheel of the SUV wondering why she needed to be the one to go into town to buy Bryan some drawers. He wasn’t her man, and personally, she was offended Passion Fruit had given her such a task as if she were the hired help.

“Well, technically, I am, but that’s beside the fucking point,” she grumbled, starting up the Subaru.

She pressed the button to open the garage door where she’d been told to park out of sight and eased her way out of the garage onto the gravel drive. The nose of the vehicle pointed toward town, and she made her way down the road. An uneasiness came to her again as she reached for her personal cell phone. It rang in her hand, nearly making her jump. Helen hit the brakes and looked down at the device. It showed no number and only read unknown as the caller’s identification.

“Nope, not today,” she said, setting the device down.

A text message flashed and instructed her to take the call. She stared at it, watching it ring. A second text came.

G ENTLY, SHE SLID HER index finger across the screen, connecting the caller.

"Yes?" she said into the device.

“ Ola, Tia ,” the deep voice said.

“Bushmaster?” She softly spoke into the line.

“ Sí , it is I,” he said. “I understand you had a visitor yesterday.”

“Correct; we had a nice chit chat,” she said taking her foot off the brake. “Are you well?”

A loud sigh proceeded his next words. “As one can expect in such scenarios, he is angry, a predicament I often find myself in with him.”

Helen knew Micah Delgado was speaking of his relationship with his father. Father and son relationships were often as complex as the relationship between a father and daughter, which she understood well. She attempted to offer a bit of solace.

“He was curious as to what and why. I don’t understand the why myself,” she said to Micah Delgado, recently inked by the cartel and given the handle of The Bushmaster. He'd placed a tracker on her vehicle to keep tabs on her comings and goings. Currently, she was going, and he was tracking. She too wanted to understand the what and the why for his actions. Helen inquired again about his why in tracking her movements.

“Too many interested parties in you, Cranberry, which raises red flags. I am keeping watch to keep you safe,” Micah told her.

“Keeping me safe from whom, Bushmaster?”

“I find slight amusement,” he replied, “in the things we often look the hardest to find, which are usually right under the nose. Be careful today. Pay attention to those paying attention to you.”

“Okay, weird and cryptic. Hey, how is Alita?”

The pause came as if he were attempting to gather the complicated thoughts hovering on the periphery of his brain. The relationship between him and his personal guard Alita would be one that would grow in complication as they aged. At 18, the young man was navigating his own place in the world. A beautiful young woman as a bodyguard would change his life in ways he had yet to figure out, but that was for another conversation and another story.

“She wants to go to the winter formal. I would rather shoe the horses and muck the stalls, but we do what we must.”

“Bushmaster, be young while you can,” she told him. “Adulthood isn’t all that fun.”

“Hmm, neither are teenage rites of passage,” he said. “Stay safe.”

Micah Delgado ended the call.

She continued to drive toward town, storing the conversation for a mental vivisection later. The words he’d shared would have to wait. Her Technician phone was ringing.

“Please let it be an assignment,” she replied, taking the call. “Go for Cranberry.”

“This is the Operator; I have a request for a connect from The Bad Apple. Will you accept the call?”

"Yes," she said, holding the device, listening to the silence. A few clicks occurred, then a hiss, and finally background sounds.

"Cranberry?" the deep voice said. "You there?"

"I am here. How may I be of assistance?"

It was the pauses she hated. Life could be so much easier if people simply said what was on their minds instead of the coy games of cat and mouse. She wanted to know what he wanted from her.

"Uhm, Stephen has finally perfected his cranberry sweet potato souffle," Bad Apple said as he spoke of his young ward, a flamboyant chap who enjoyed cooking.

"Good to know," she replied, wondering what the hell that had to do with her.

"He's planning to make it for Thanksgiving," Bad Apple said. "I'm calling to offer you and The Mustang an invitation for dinner and a weekend of family fun. Can you guys make it?"

Helen sat on the lone back road not far from Passion Fruit's place. No one would be able to find the place unless they knew exactly where to look. Even with her vehicle stored in the barn, the cabin sat forlornly into the hillside, seemingly abandoned. She understood the request and call, but it wasn't her decision to make.

"Apple, you will need to place that request direct to the source," she said. "He will be able to provide you with an answer."

"You don't keep you guys’ calendar for stuff like that?"

"Again, you need to make the request directly to him. Anything else I can assist you with?"

"I guess not," Apple said, surprised at the coldness in her voice. "They miss you. I thought it would be nice...you know."

"Make the call; he will give you an answer," she said, feeling irritated for some reason. "Cranberry out."

She ended the call, scowling into the coldness in the car cabin although the heater was blaring on full blast. The heat seemed to only whisper hints of warmth, making her shudder. The drive from the homestead in Plainville, Indiana to where Bad Apple lived in Janesville, Wisconsin was nearly five hours and a different time zone. Even if they got up early to make the drive to arrive by dinner, an overnight stay would be required.

The idea also created issues. Her cousin Cherry more than likely expected her home for Thanksgiving, and in her heart, she'd rather have a pap smear than do that, but she also wasn't prepared to deal with Oscar, who lived with Bad Apple. The kid tugged at her Mom's heartstrings, and she wasn't prepared mentally to tango with that either, at least not now. There were so many issues to deal with just living full-time or whatever it was she was doing with Mustang and whatever future they had.

"It's just too much," she said softly, easing off the brake and beginning the drive into town.

Her personal cell phone rang, and she growled loudly at another person, wanting to connect. Angrily, she answered the call.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Cous, how are you?" Cherry’s voice came through the line. "I was calling to see if you were coming for Thanksgiving. I know Ruth is planning to put on a spread."

"Not sure right now," she answered truthfully. "There is a great deal happening on this end."

"Okay, I was also missing you. Naomi keeps asking about you; she misses you as well," Cherry said. "Michael was also wondering how the training was going."

"Every day is an adventure," Helen said, not wanting to say anything more over the line.

"Oh. Okay then. You'll let me know?"

"I will let you know. Love you," Helen said and ended the call. Before she made it to the store, two additional calls came in, one from her mother, which she refused to take, and oddly enough, the second call she answered.

"Hello," she said into the line.

"Been thinking about you a lot lately," the strong male voice said. "I know you moved, and I didn't know where to send my annual Christmas card. Are you doing okay?"

"I'm okay, Daddy," she said, gripping the steering wheel. "How is everything on your end?"

"Dunno. I am feeling nostalgic, I guess. Me and the holiday season," Darnell Nelson told his daughter. "It's been so long since I've seen you, Punkin. It would be nice to see you, be a real part of your life. Maybe when you have some kids, I can, you know, see my grandkids, be a part of their lives."

He went through this every holiday season. It was Seasonal Affective Disorder, and it also made her sad that this was the extent of her relationship with her father. Perhaps it was time for a change for them all. She'd talk to Mustang about meeting him and... who knew?

"Daddy, let me see what I can do. You have some time off that you could use for a visit. Would you like that?"

She could hear him smiling through the phone. "I'd like that, Punkin. I'd like that a lot. I am putting in my retirement paperwork soon and will have time on my hands. I just hope...I dunno what I'm hoping for really. I'm just hoping."

"I will call you back in a couple of days when I can work it all out," she told him.

"Love you, Punkin. I really do," Darnell said.

"Love you, back Daddy," she said and disconnected the blue tooth. "Well, fuck me sideways."

She wanted to turn off the phone but didn't. As she finally made it into town, a few thoughts crossed her mind. Bryan needed mental stimulation. A bookstore would be great if he liked to read. Possibly a few puzzles. It became the first stop.

The bookstore wasn't very large and didn't have a big selection of fiction, but it was enough to get a soul started on a few conversational reads. She thought of her ex, who fancied himself a reader of action-adventure stories for men. Helen located a Clive Cussler, a Clancy, and a James Patterson. For good measure, she added a Koontz.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she raised her eyes to spot the man following her about the store. For good measure, she circled back around the shelving unit and added a Garwood to the pile. Now he wasn't trying to hide following her about the place.

"Sir, it would be difficult to steal five of these thick books, which I can check out at the library for free if you don't want my business," Helen said, challenging him.

"Oh no, I'm sorry," he said, holding up his hands in defense. "You are simply...lovely."

"Excuse me?" Helen asked, wondering what fresh hell this creeper was about to unleash on her. She placed her hand in her jacket pocket, feeling for her knives.

"You're lovely," the man said. "You don't have any of those long fake acrylic nails or those caterpillar eyelashes or garish makeup. Your hair is natural without a bunch of extensions, and you are simply refreshing to look at. Just lovely."

"Thank you," she said, taking the last book to the register.

"I've never seen you here before. Are you new to the area?"

"Passing through," she told him.

"If you pass through again, would you be interested in lunch, maybe coffee, I mean I don't see a ring," he said, looking down at her fingers.

Helen blinked several times. He was asking her out on a date. It had been so long since a man had actually approached her like he had some sense and asked her out without yelling at her across a store or calling her Shawty or Miss Ma'am. She gave a slight smirk.

"Flattered, but I'm taken," she said, watching the sales lady ring up the sales.

"Just thought I'd shoot my shot. Pretty lady like you, I should have known," the man said, watching the clerk totaling her purchases.

Helen paid cash and left the store. She tossed the items on the backseat of the Subaru before making her way over to the local big box store. The uneasiness returned as she shopped for items for Bryan, thinking of function over form, including a button-down sweater and easy slip-on shirts. She felt she’d scored big when she located gym pants that snapped up the legs, creating an easy on and off situation for the cast. When she looked up, the man from the bookstore was also in the same aisle. She now looked at him differently.

Helen processed the man as a threat, a six foot, two-hundred-pound, solid mass of a threat. Passion Fruit's words came back to her; she would need to catch him off guard and drop him to get away if it came to such ends.

"I see you do have a man," he said.

"Listen, whatever you're thinking, you don't want none of this," Helen said. "My sweet appearance is a facade, and I will hurt you."

"Whoa? I spotted you when I came into the store. I wasn't following you," the man said. "No harm."

A security guard approached them, asking, "Miss, is this man bothering you?"

"Yes, he is," Helen said. "He's following me about the store and making me uncomfortable."

"Sir, this way please," the security guard said, ushering the man away. He looked back at Helen again. She couldn't read his eyes. It was a red flag, and this man was a danger to her.

Helen wasn't taking any chances. She hurried to the register, paid for her purchases, and left the store. She couldn't run the risk of the man following her to Passion Fruit's place, so she took another tactic.

"I heard your words, Bushmaster. I received them as well," she said, pulling into a coffee shop parking lot.

Helen parked the vehicle and waited. It didn't take long for the man to locate her vehicle, look inside, and search to see which direction she'd gone. For good measure, she peeked her head out, looking surprised at seeing him, and darted into an alley. Her body, pressed against the bricks in an entryway, was out of sight of the footsteps she heard coming down the alleyway.

She kept in mind her first lesson with Passion Fruit: energy equals mass times force squared. The element of surprise was on her side as the man walked past her. Helen sprung, taking him down to his knees. She used the butt of her 9mm to pop him in the temple, knocking him unconscious. For good measure, she took his wallet, removing any cash as well as a couple of credit cards and snapping a photo of his ID. For good measure, she took it anyway. Hurriedly, she left the alley, climbing into her vehicle and speeding away.

"What the frack is that about," she said, gripping the steering wheel.

She made good time, arriving back at the cabin when her phone rang again. This time, it was her man. Her heart rate was still high when she pulled into the garage and closed the door, cutting the engine.

"Hey," she said as she answered the call.

"Hey, how goes your day?" Mustang asked.

"Weird; yours?"

"Same," he said. "Got a call from Bad Apple, wanting us to come for Thanksgiving and spend the weekend."

"What did you say?"

"I said yes because he told me Stephen is making a special cranberry sweet potato souffle for you," Mustang said. "Who is Stephen, and can he cook?"

"Long story, but okay, we are heading to Wisconsin for Thanksgiving," she replied. "I will let Cherry know not to expect me."

"Good enough, but why did you say your day is weird?"

"Got a call from my Daddy," she said. "The holiday season makes him get all emotional. I want to invite him for a visit, but didn't know how you'd feel about that. Should I invite him to Kentucky instead?"

"Of course not. I want to meet him," Mustang said. "When are you thinking?"

"Let me get with Azreal and see what the schedule is. I know we have to be in Kentucky for Christmas," she said. "Maybe the week before?"

"Sounds about right, then I can ask him for your hand in marriage," Mustang said.

"You're so traditional. I like it," she said, smiling. She wanted to tell him about the man, but he'd go all Alpha male and want to rush to her rescue. Therefore, she kept it to herself. "Talk soon?"

"Talk soon and be safe."

"Roger that," she said, terminating the call. A better idea came to mind as she pressed one on her Technician phone. The call was answered on the second ring.

"State your need," the voice said.

"Got a bogey on my tail in Antioch," Helen said. "Picked it up in the bookstore, then again in Target, and it followed me to a coffee shop."

Azreal, her handler, asked, "Any idea what it is about or a description?"

"I can go you one better," Helen said, texting the image of the license to Azreal. "He also has a Chase credit card, and an American Express Platinum business card."

"How did you get these items, Cranberry?"

"He experienced an unfortunate incident, Boss. I lured him into an alley and knocked him the fuck out, that's how. I also robbed him of his cash, you know, working on staging accidents and shit. I couldn't take the chance of him following me back to Passion Fruit's place," she said. "Also, as a heads up, The Bushmaster placed a tracker on my vehicle. He said people are trying to find me."

"God help them if they do," Azreal said, shocked at the honesty of the slip of a woman. "Where is this man now?"

"I left him in the alley in a puddle of what I hope is piss water," Helen said. "Azreal, who is after me and why?"

"The Chrysalis," she said. "You've ruffled some feathers, and they want to know who and what you are."

"When they find out, let me know," she said, pausing. "You might want to get me implanted sooner rather than later. Just in case some shit goes sideways."

"I'll get Passion Fruit to do it today. It hurts," Azreal said.

"So does life."

"Lie low for a minute and stay out of sight until I can find out who this man is, Cranberry," Azreal said.

"Will do, but we are supposed to be at Bad Apple's for Thanksgiving, plus what is the schedule for the Holidays? Can you let me know?" Helen said. "I have some family issues; you know Daddy wants to have the whole Yuletide Cheer crap."

"You're a pain in the ass," Azreal said, disconnecting the call.

"She loves me," Helen said, gathering the items to head into the home, praying Passion Fruit and Bryan hadn't killed each other while she was gone.