Like a siren on the rocks, the message calls to me. I have to open it. I touch the holographic projection.
ďWhy are you following me, Jack?Ē
Shit. I run out of the store, barely even registering that the fat clerk is yelling at me. Iím at my car, fumbling through the glove compartment. An awkward second later I have my semi-automatic pistol in my hands, cold and familiar. Itís an old friend and the girl that never calls back all wrapped up in a stainless steel frame.
But itís no use. Drake is not here. Thereís no one around except the clerk glaring at me through the window of the store. Damn. That really rattled me. Canít 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?