Like a siren on the rocks, the message calls to me. I have to open it. I touch the holographic projection.
“Why are you following me, Jack?”
Shit. I run out of the store, barely even registering that the fat clerk is yelling at me. I’m at my car, fumbling through the glove compartment. An awkward second later I have my semi-automatic pistol in my hands, cold and familiar. It’s an old friend and the girl that never calls back all wrapped up in a stainless steel frame.
But it’s no use. Drake is not here. There’s no one around except the clerk glaring at me through the window of the store. Damn. That really rattled me. Can’t let myself get so shaken up. Got to be ready for anything in this line of work. The question is, what do I do now?