Hunters Matt Rogers (best inspirational books .TXT) 📖

rear of her house had glass sliding doors, and most of the lights were on inside.

Jada was at the dining room table, hunched over an array of instruments that King guessed comprised a forger’s arsenal. She was African-American, her skin darker than Slater’s. Maybe in her early fifties, so plump she was practically round. Even from this distance King could sense the motherly aura she exuded. There was a vacant half-smile on her face as she worked away at a document in her hands, running it under some kind of imprinter. He couldn’t tell from so far away, but he could imagine her humming to herself as she worked.

He lowered himself back down, slightly guilty that he’d invaded her privacy.

He was back at the car in seconds, keeping low as he ran at a jog, and he slipped back into the passenger seat. ‘We’re clear.’

Slater said, ‘That wasn’t long enough. You swept the whole area?’

‘I saw her,’ King said. ‘She’s just a normal woman.’

‘She forges passports for criminals.’

‘She was working at her dining room table. No tension. No stiffness. If she was colluding with anyone, planning an ambush, she would have shown it. I can read people.’

Slater said, ‘Thanks, Mr. Armchair Psychologist. If you don’t mind, I’ll do the real sweep.’

He left the car without another word, before any of the others could argue otherwise. King’s stomach was a dark knot, twisted in anticipation. He sat there like a statue until, ten minutes later, Slater returned, clambering back into the Ford. ‘Whole street’s clear. No snipers, no-one lying in wait.’ He reached forward and slapped King on the shoulder — the good one, without the patched-up bullet wound. ‘That’s a sweep.’

Violetta said, ‘Were you spotted?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

He said, ‘You used to handle me. What do you think?’

‘I think if you didn’t want to be seen, you weren’t seen.’

‘There you go.’

They looped around and came up on Jada’s house again. They kept their SIGs in their holsters but untucked their shirts and draped them over the weapons so as not to alarm Jada or her neighbours. If someone glanced out their window at the wrong moment and saw four armed strangers advancing toward a neighbouring property, there’d be sirens lighting up the street within minutes.

Violetta went first up the winding pathway to the front portico. King, Slater, and Alexis followed close behind.

A sign beside the door read: MI CASA ES SU CASA.

Violetta knocked.

There was shuffling from within, then the front door opened. Jada beamed a smile at them with one hand on the door and the other on her broad hip. She was even larger than the side-profile King had seen from the back fence. Warmer, too. Like a giant vortex of joy that sucked in everyone that came into contact with her.

‘Hello, baby,’ she said to Violetta, then turned to the others. ‘And how lovely to meet you three in the flesh. Violetta’s told me wonderful things about y’all.’

Violetta stepped over the front landing and hugged Jada. When she stepped back, she said, ‘No I haven’t.’

Jada smiled again, her eyes squeezed shut from the upward pressure of her bulging cheeks. ‘Sprung. Busted. But look at the four of y’all together. Gosh. Makes me want to hit that darn treadmill every now and then.’ She winked at them.

King smiled back at her. He couldn’t help himself. She radiated something their lives were missing. Innocent joy. It was doubly impressive given she lived and operated in the same murky underworld they inhabited.

As if reading his mind, Jada said, ‘Don’t worry, dear. I’d think the same if I were you. Wondering why I’m all lovey-dovey?’

King shrugged. ‘I couldn’t do it. I admire it.’

‘World is already fucked up enough, boo. No harm in adding a little light to it, especially if you’ve seen the dark places. The darker they are, the more of your own light you should let shine. It’s a counterbalancing act, you know?’

‘I like that. Pleasure to meet you, Jada.’

Jada cackled, slapping her enormous thigh. She looked at Violetta. ‘Your man’s a treasure. “Pleasure to meet you.” What is he, some nineteenth-century nobleman? Come on. Get in here and give me a hug, baby.’

King followed Violetta over the threshold and embraced Jada. She was warm, and smelled of good cooking. When he stepped aside, she hugged Slater and Alexis in turn, introducing herself to both.

Then she closed the front door and said, ‘Y’all are in some shit, huh?’

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Slater hesitated. ‘Has anyone been asking questions? Putting out feelers?’

Jada scoffed. ‘Not to me. You think I’m that important, baby?’

Slater said, ‘Sorry. We’re a little tense.’

‘I understand, sugar.’

The corner of Slater’s mouth upturned at the colloquialism.

Jada said, ‘You think that’s funny? Sugar? Boy, you look sweet as hell. It’d be a crime not to say it.’ Then she turned to Alexis. ‘Sorry, honey. I’m a straight-shooter. But don’t worry, I won’t be stealin’ ya man.’

Alexis smiled. ‘Thank you, Jada.’

Jada shook her head. ‘Y’all too polite. Come on, I got what you need.’

She led them down the poorly lit entranceway and into the big dining/living space. The house suffered from the modern issue of being too large and plain. Jada had barely decorated the walls and there were no rugs on the living room floor, giving the place a barren feel. It suited King and Slater just fine, but an interior designer would cringe. Slater understood her a little better from assessing her living conditions. Her priority was her work, not the superficial life around it. He liked that.

Jada evidently had little concern with leaving her workstation undisguised. The surface of the dining room table was a mess of embossing devices and authentic passport stamps.

King said, ‘Thank you for helping us.’

She waved a hand dismissively. ‘Of course, baby. I know you’re good people.’

Violetta said, ‘You’re a gem.’

Jada beckoned them over to the dining room table, where four shiny new passports lay closed, side-by-side at the edge. Instead of following the pack, Slater drifted away through the kitchen, entering a plain carpeted hallway with cream