Transitory Identities

Chapter 1It was close to eleven Wednesday night when Colt’s phone rang. He took it out while checking to be certain there was no traffic coming in either direction. There wasn’t, so he stepped out from between two parked cars to cross the street—frowning when he saw Blocked Number on the caller ID, which meant he had no idea who was calling. Seconds later he was being roughly hauled backwards, landing hard against the hood of one of the cars. “What the hell?” “That.” The man who had a grip on his arm pointed to a dark sedan driving without lights down the darkened street. “One step further and you’d have been roadkill.” “f**k!” Colt sucked in a harsh breath as he watched the car brake and make a fast U-turn before heading back in their direction. “Dude, I think we’d both better get a move-on,” the man said. Still holding Colt’s arm, he pulled him onto the pavement and then into an alley a few feet away. Colt decided the guy had good instincts when shots rang out, missing them by mere inches before the car vanished from sight. He started toward the alley’s entrance, wanting to see where it had gone, only to be roughly jerked back. “You got a death wish?” “Not really. More like I want to know who that bastard is.” “Too late. He’s probably a mile away by now.” “Or coming around for another try,” Colt replied tightly as he shoved his phone into his pocket. “That, too, so we might want to find a safer place to hang out.” Colt couldn’t debate that idea. He walked swiftly to the far end of the alley, hearing the man’s footsteps right behind him. Cautiously, he checked what he could see of the area. A few cars moved up and down the street—none of them black, all of them using their headlights. There was a bar across the street from him, the only place open for business other than an all-night convenience store on the corner. The rest of the area held low-rent apartment buildings, or small businesses and shops that had closed several hours previously. “Safe?” he heard the man ask. “Looks like,” Colt replied before leaving the alley, and rapidly crossing the street to the bar. When he opened the door, voices, music, and the smell of beer and sweat, assailed him. There were a few patrons seated at the bar and the tables scattered around the small room—primarily men dressed in work pants and shirts. Several of them turned to look at Colt and his companion when they entered before going back to what they’d been doing. Colt pointed to an empty table in one corner, saying, “I owe you a drink,” and then headed to the bar. When the bartender came over, he ordered two beers, in bottles as he quickly decided this wasn’t the sort of place where the glasses would be too clean. He paid when the bottles were put in front of him, picked them up, and walked to the table to join man who had probably saved him from a long stay in the hospital—or worse. “We haven’t been properly introduced,” he said, handing the man one of the bottles. “I’m Colt.” The man nodded. “Sax.” He smiled briefly. “Short for Saxton, not saxophone.” “Duly noted. Thanks for the rescue,” Colt said. Sax shrugged. “Right place, right time.” He took a pull on his beer. Colt took a drink as well while studying the man. He already knew Sax was close to his own six-one, but from his muscular build he figured he outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. He had a small scar on his temple, partially hidden by his brown hair. His eyes were dark brown, or so they appeared in the dim light of the bar. If he were to guess, he was in his late twenties to early thirties. Like Colt, he was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt—in his case blue as compared to Colt’s dark green—making them better dressed than most of the other men in the place. “Done checking me out?” Sax asked, lifting an eyebrow. “If so, I’ve got a question. Who wants you dead?” “I have no clue. Hopefully it was a case of mistaken identity.” “It wasn’t. The moment I saw you reach the curb, I heard him rev his engine. It didn’t really register what he planned until he pulled out from where he’d parked, with no lights.” Sax stared hard at Colt. “He was aiming right for you. Your phone lit up your face so I’m real sure he knew it was you. So, again, who has a hard-on for you?” “Before I answer, if I do, what were you doing there? There aren’t any clubs or restaurants on the street you could have been visiting. You don’t look like someone who would live in the neighborhood and all the businesses in the couple of the buildings that don’t house apartments are closed for the night.” “Same thing holds true for you,” Sax retorted. Colt tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I was visiting a friend,” he replied glibly. “You might want to take him off your friends’ list because unless someone followed you there, he set you up.” Colt leaned back, rolling the beer bottle between his hands. “How do I know you didn’t set it up? That you weren’t the person who called to get my attention just before everything went down?” “You don’t. Think about it, though. If I had, would I have saved your life?” “Possibly, if you wanted to become—” Colt smiled slowly, “—my new best friend.” “Could have, but no, I didn’t call. How could I? I don’t know your number.” Colt frowned. “So you say.” He looked long and hard at Sax, shrugged, and said, “Back to my original question. Why were you there?” “Looking for a restaurant a guy told me about that is supposed to have an excellent menu. I’m very partial to fish, which he said they do to perfection.” “It’s pretty late for dinner,” Colt replied with a trace of suspicion. “And boy are you in the wrong neighborhood, no matter the hour. You eat fish around here you’ll get food poisoning that’ll lay you out for a week.” “I went to a movie and was starving when I got out. It took me a while, but I figured that out. I mean that I must have had the wrong address. Then I saw you, and seconds later the car.” “Your bad luck was my good luck,” Colt replied with a brief grin. Not that he believed Sax, if that really was his name, but for the moment he figured he wasn’t going to get the truth out him no matter how hard he pushed. “Who wants you dead?” Sax asked, reiterating his question from earlier. “A pissed-off husband? A business contact who thinks you screwed him over?” “I don’t mess with married women, and I don’t do the kind of work where someone could think I took advantage of them.” “What do you do?” “I’m a bartender,” Colt told him—which was the truth at the moment, although not the full truth. “Where?” Sax asked, resting his elbows on the table after taking another drink. “A club on the west side you’ve probably never heard of.” “Try me.” “Vertex.” “Heard of it,” Sax said. “Never been there, but then I don’t hang out in that part of town. It’s only two steps up from this neighborhood.” Sax shook his head. “Why I thought that restaurant would be around here…Well, other than the address I was given.” “Never trust friends. They’ll steer you wrong half the time, intentionally or not.” Sax lifted an eyebrow. “Like the one you were visiting?” “Perhaps,” Colt replied with a pensive frown. He didn’t think the man would have, but then he’d been known to be wrong before. Leaning back, he asked, “Turnabout and all that. What do you do to keep food on the table?” “I’m a freelance photographer, primarily for the local newspapers at the moment.” “There’s more than one?” Colt asked as if he didn’t know the answer. He did, because there was damned little he didn’t know about the city, but he wasn’t about to let on to Sax. “I thought there was only the Observer.” “That’s the daily. There’s a couple of weekly ones, and the Chronicle, which is monthly.” “Okay, I guess I should have paid more attention. But then I rarely follow the news. I’ve got better things to do if I want to stress out.” Sax chuckled. “Like deal with drunks on the job?” “You have no idea.” “Then why work at a bar?” Colt shrugged. “It pays the bills.” “Maybe whoever tried to run you down, and shot at us, is someone you kicked out of there?” Sax asked. “I think that’s a bit of overkill for being eighty-sixed.” “True.” Sax gave Colt a thoughtful look and then said, “Maybe the guy thought you overheard something he said to someone that could have gotten him in trouble.” “How so?” “I know for a fact there are dealers in that neighborhood. Perhaps he was setting up a buy or a sale and then realized you were right there while he did.” “I can see how he’d think that was a problem, but it didn’t happen.” “He wouldn’t know that.” Colt nodded. “You have a point. But how would he know where I was tonight? Visiting my friend was totally unplanned.” “Okay, you got me on that one, unless he followed you.” “I don’t give out my address to customers and I came here straight from home.” “If you picked up some chick at the bar…” “If…I did, I’d go to her place. My private life is just that. Private.” “You’re not making this easy.” Grinning, Colt replied, “You playing detective?” Apparently Sax took that as a joke, as Colt had hoped he would, because he laughed. “Yep. You have to admit it’s an intriguing mystery, looking at it from my point of view.” “Yeah. Honestly, my guess is he had the wrong man.” “Nope. He was waiting for you. I told you that.” “Then I’d better hope he’s not hanging around when I go back to my car,” Colt said dryly. “Which is where?” “Right across the street from my friend’s place.” Sax grimaced. “In that case, maybe you should cab it home.” “We’ll see. It’s been—” Colt looked at the clock above the bar. “We’ve been here for at least half an hour. He’d have to be real persistent to still be hanging around there.” “He did try to kill you, so I wouldn’t count that out.” “You keep knocking down my arguments.” Sax nodded. “I saved your life. I don’t want to find out it was in vain.” “Okay, I’ll take your advice and call a cab. If you were parked close to where things happened, you might want to, too. He could have seen your face.” “The address I was looking for was two blocks east of here. When I didn’t find it, I started walking around, figuring I’d gotten the street name wrong. I should be safe enough as long as I go up and over.” “Your choice.” Colt took out his phone and called for a cab. “I should leave you to it,” Sax said, tossing back the last of his beer before getting up. “Be careful.” He grinned, clapping his hand on Colt’s shoulder. “I might not be around the next time someone tries to leave tire marks across your chest.” “Trust me, I will be. Thanks again for rescuing me.” “Anyone would have done it,” Sax replied. “Well, if there’d been anyone around other than me.” “There wasn’t, you were, so thanks.” “You bet.” Sax headed to the door. Colt followed a moment later, although he didn’t leave the bar until his cab drew up in front. He did a quick check to the right and left before hurrying across the pavement to jump in. He gave the driver an address and ten minutes later paid the fare and got out. When the cab was out of sight, he walked around the corner then called another company. Twenty minutes and yet a third cab later, he was back where he’d left his car. From there, even though he was fairly certain he didn’t have to, he took a circuitous route to his apartment. It wasn’t until he was inside that he felt completely safe. Then, he placed a call, leaving a coded message to the recipient that they needed to talk first thing in the morning. With that accomplished, he showered and went to bed, setting the alarm for five A.M.