Chapter Eleven -- Witchblade Karma

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Date Posted: 17:14:39 11/12/04 Fri
Author: moondreamer
Subject: Chapter Eleven
In reply to: moondreamer 's message, "The Ghost in the Machine - PG 13" on 08:45:09 10/07/04 Thu

Jake woke first. He stared at the television in surprise, wondering at it�s being off, before the events of the evening came back to him. He stretched as he walked hurriedly towards the kitchen. He had seen Sara in action enough to know that caffeine was going to be a necessity.

He decided some breakfast would be in order; maybe it would help break the awkward moments he knew would be ahead. Sara was fiercely independent, fiercely proud.

Whatever had driven her to his doorstep late last night would be forgotten in the cold light of morning and he knew she would not only regret it, but possibly lash out accordingly.

He on the other hand, had gotten enough sleep that he almost felt human this morning. Before he knew it he was humming as he pulled the ingredients for one of his special omelets out of the fridge. He hadn�t cooked in what seemed a really long time, not for anyone other than himself and was grateful the ingredients could be considered close to fresh.

The coffee had just finished brewing where Sara walked cautiously out of the bedroom. She looked around slowly; it was obvious nothing had registered last night. Her attention was caught by the poster on the far wall.

�Wow. I didn�t know you were �the� Jake McCartey.�

Jake looked down. �Ahh�yep.� Even though they had made it part of his cover he hadn�t really expected her to know who he had been. Why would a New York Cop follow surfing?

Sara sat gingerly on a stool at the counter. �As in, Jake McCartey, the surfing champ. That explains the nice place.�

Jake handed her a cup of coffee. �I�d appreciate it if you didn�t say anything about it at work.�

�About what, Jake?� She took a grateful sip of her coffee. Her discomfort at waking and finding herself at Jake�s was offset by this new bit of information on him. There was a lot to be said for a little mutual blackmail.

Jake was eager to change the subject. �You all right this morning?�

�I will be after more of this coffee. Hey, didn�t you have a bad spill in Hawaii before you retired?�

He turned his back, fiddling with the coffeepot as he answered her, his inner pain slicing through him at the bitter memories her casual question brought back. �Yeah. I did.�

That simple statement didn�t even begin to cover that bleak time in his life right after Carla�s death. The incident had been under investigation, he was still healing, and it had been stupid to try to compete.

But, he had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. The real truth was he had tried to kill himself in Hawaii. He had hoped to find some peace out there in the blue-green surf.

With an effort Jake pushed his ghosts away and turned back to the intense brunette. �Hey, I checked out a few things for you.�

�Like what?�

�Like the Rialto Theater.�

Sara raised one eyebrow. �And?�

�Turns out the building is owned by a multi-national corporation called Vorschlag Industries. Check out that folder right there. Ever hear of one Kenneth Irons?�

�Kenneth Irons the billionaire?� Sara whistled.

�Yep, he�s top of the Fortune 500, a major international player and supposedly owns the real estate in New York that Trump doesn�t.�

Sara started flipping through the folder. �He owns a huge art collection doesn�t he?�

�You know that exhibit at the Midtown Museum? The one you and Vespucci took out? Well, that was his.� Jake turned back to the food. �There are some photos there. What do you think?�

Jake looked back up at the sudden silence. The folder and Sara Pezzini were gone.

�Well, hell.� He muttered.

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Replies:

Chapter Twelve -- moondreamer, 16:57:53 11/21/04 Sun