Free PsyCop 6: GhosTV by Jordan Castillo Price Page B

change, and then struggling into their shoes. The woman who returned my gun and my phone wouldn’t meet my eye, and the guards around the VIP door all stood ramrod straight, and their faces were professionally blank. A dozen yards away, Jacob was on his cell phone, pacing like he was just about ready to snap. A bunch of emotions played over his face when he saw me come through the door behind Dreyfuss: relief, surprise...worry.
    The guards exchanged glances as he stormed past them and up to Dreyfuss and me. Maybe they were wondering if they were supposed to stop him. Probably they all hoped it was out of their jurisdiction.
    “Detective Marks,” Dreyfuss called out cheerfully. “Con Dreyfuss.
    Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
    He held out his hand for a shake. Jacob planted his hands on his hips and ignored it. And his jacket rode open and flashed the front edge of his holster. “You wouldn’t happen to know why a drug dog just went apeshit over my partner, would you?”
    “What’re you suggesting? That I had an invisible agent run over and plant something on Detective Bayne? Ha ha! That’d be a good trick, wouldn’t it?” He winked at me. How sleazy. “I’ve known a motley group of Psychs in my day, unfortunately I’ve never met anyone who could turn themselves invisible—and the amount of energy it would take a telekinetic to pull that trick from across the room would probably send his brains leaking out his ears.”
    I thought one of the airport security guards heard us. And I thought he was doing his best to pretend he was anywhere else but there.
    Dreyfuss checked his watch and said, “Detective Bayne just agreed to fly the FPMP skies to Santa Barbara, since that’ll put him in California by sundown. Care to ride along?”
    Jacob cut his gaze to me. I wasn’t quite sure how to convey, I know we hate him, but based on the circumstances, it was the most logical thing to do, with a nonverbal signal. I widened my eyes a little.
    Jacob blinked, just a smidgeon more pointedly than he normally would have. I took that to be shorthand for a drawn out, long-suffering sigh. And maybe an eye roll. “Let’s go.”
    Constantine Dreyfuss had his everyman persona down pat. His brown hair was long and curly, and I imagine that when he first started growing it out, it probably went through an afro state until it got heavy enough to weigh itself down. Currently, a black and gray striped scrunchie was holding it in a frizzy ponytail. He was a big federal so-and-so, but I’d never seen him in a suit. Probably because he was a big federal so-and-so. He wore T-shirts and sweats, and as far as I could tell, he didn’t even carry a gun. If you ran into him at the grocery store, you’d probably figure him for something low-rent and benign, like a minimart attendant or a library assistant. Unless you got a look at his running shoes and happened to know they would cost a month’s salary to either of those professions.
    We walked in a chevron formation, Dreyfuss on point, Jacob to his left. Since Jacob was right-handed, it would be easier for him to flatten Dreyfuss from that angle if the situation suddenly went south. I was right-handed too, but I was fine keeping Dreyfuss on my left. I trusted that if things got physical, it would be better to have Jacob in position than me. Given that I really wasn’t very athletic.
    For just a second, I was glad we’d checked our roller bags, because dealing with the carry-ons was bad enough. Then I realized my pills were in my checked luggage. And everything else I’d thought I would need for the trip. What would happen to our stuff? I had enough to worry about trying to keep up with Dreyfuss and Jacob without worrying about my bag.
    Dreyfuss moved fast and he didn’t get winded. I seemed to remember he was a runner. Jacob’s got incredible stamina, so he kept up without a problem. My long legs helped, some, but I needed to make a conscious effort to conceal the fact