Running in the Dark by Regan Summers Page B

drink.”
    Tilde looked like crap, the lavender half-moons under her eyes visible through gold-tone makeup, her natural blush washed out by the harsh fluorescent lights of the garage. Her cherry-red lips were garish and dry. She gave Jace’s back the finger as she drained a liter bottle of water without pausing.
    “Good to see you back,” I said, heading toward the office. Carla wore a wrapped turquoise blouse, chunky orange beads, and had company. I waited outside, watching the pair of vampires. One filled out delivery slips for a pile of thick, off-white envelopes. The other faced the window, scanning the street. His eyes never stopped moving, back and forth, high and low, and his head canted at irregular angles. Listening. But I didn’t see any tension in his body. If Soraya was already following me, she was being more discreet about it. That, or she was out playing vigilante, righting the wrongs done to women with swift, bone-crunching justice.
    The vampires left. One moment they were there, the next they were simply gone. The bell on the front door jingled merrily as it swung shut on nothing. Carla glanced at me as she gathered the new deliveries. Her full lips were pressed tightly together.
    She locked the front door and pulled the chain on the neon light to show Closed, meaning that she wasn’t taking any more deliveries for the night. I wasn’t used to that. At I&O, we were always open. Runners tripped over each other, in the process of breaking laws and possibly transmissions, for last minute calls. The price tag went up the closer we got to dawn, and so did the couriers’ percentage. I missed my eighty percent—cut nights.
    “Tilde,” Carla said as she clicked into the garage on high, square heels. “So nice to see you. Tonight, we have some changes.” She handed out assignment sheets. Mine had returned to three pages, which meant I’d been shuffled back down to the low-rent run. I affixed the list to my clipboard, resigning myself to a pile of houses on Mediterranean, while Tilde got the reds and yellows and Jace smirked from the penthouse of her hotel on Boardwalk.
    “We will no longer be servicing the Vega account,” Carla said. I bit my lip to keep my mouth shut. “Vega has changed his house management, and the new male has other loyalties. He’s moved their contract to Perralta. Hijo de puta de mierda. ”
    I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but Carla hated Perralta and his bigger, flashier shop, so I assume it was bad. Jace laughed and I relaxed a bit.
    “Did Lalo…retire?” Tilde asked. A line burrowed between her eyebrows, and sweat glistened on her upper lip. My stomach flopped at the idea of what Lalo might have attempted with me had he not been interrupted. Maybe Tilde was tired and drinking heavily for a reason. Lalo had been her customer for weeks.
    “No.” Carla organized the papers in her hand as if she were sorting playing cards. “He is no longer there.”
    I stared down at my clipboard, pretty damn sure that Malcolm not only knew where Lalo had gone, but had something to do with it. He’d been so angry at the way that weasel had treated me. I didn’t feel bad exactly. Lalo was a menace. Still, the idea that I could mention something in passing and that he’d act on it—without even talking to me—didn’t sit well. What if I slipped and told him Jace irritated me, or that Soraya had manhandled me?
    Actually, I didn’t think he’d do anything to Soraya. He was too familiar with her, and she didn’t seem like the kind of person who made that easy.
    “This opens some space in our schedule, which is good.” Carla raised a handful of slips and smiled, dollar signs rising behind her eyes. “Because we have loads of last-minute packages tonight. Tilde will handle most of them. Jace, you have the four on the east side. Remember girls, keep your eyes on the road and your mirrors, and make sure you are in before dawn.” She turned back toward the office.
    Wait,