Read Online Nowhere Safe by Nancy Bush - Free Book Online Page A

the mainstay of Mr. Blue’s stash. The deadlier plants were elsewhere. Mr. Blue didn’t want anyone knowing about them unless there was a particular deal to be made, and then it was at his choosing. He also traded in illegal drugs like Rohypnol—roofies—to the right person and since Rohypnol was sold legally in Mexico, he had his own connections that were outside the traffic of the vicious drug lords of that country. Mr. Blue had his own rules, and he was more of a connoisseur of rare and exotic botanicals than your ordinary dealer who only worked for money could ever hope to be. You had to have a damn good reason to come to Mr. Blue for help, and then he might, or might not, deign to offer you what you sought.
    She could smell chicken and herbs and realized Mr. Blue was making soup in the kitchen, so she removed her hand from the locked knob to her room and instead opened the door to the interior of the house, stepping inside.
    Mr. Blue, whose real name was Hiram Champs, was stirring a large pot on the stove. He looked over upon hearing her and said, “I’ve made us dinner.”
    She looked into his blue face and said, “I’ve got the sourdough loaf.”
    “Cut it up and put the butter on the table. It’s already set.”
    Lucky put the sack she’d carried from the car onto the counter, grabbed the bread knife and started slicing. At the last moment, Lucky had remembered she’d told him she would get some groceries and she’d pulled into a Safeway on the edge of Laurelton before turning west and heading home.
    She glanced over at Mr. Blue, whose hair was a light gray but whose skin was blue. For years he’d drunk a concoction of colloidal silver that he made for himself, believing in its medicinal properties. The silver had settled into his skin and turned him permanently blue. Though he pretended not to mind, he rarely went out in public, preferring not to be stared at. The color added to his overall mysticism and he had followers and minions who attended to all his needs, just wanting to be near him. But the only person he allowed to stay more than a few minutes at a time was Lucky.
    They ate in near silence, seated across from each other at the dining room table, which was placed in front of a picture window that faced out the back and onto his herb garden. Beyond that was a forest of Douglas firs, maples, and pine. Lucky’s room could be seen through the window to the south and the eaves were hung with bird feeders. Hummingbirds hovered, even on the coldest day, and when Lucky was outside they sometimes whirred past so fast it felt like a huge insect zooming near her ear.
    “Did you finish what you set out to do on this trip?” Hiram asked, ladling up the last of the soup in his bowl.
    Lucky hesitated. Normally, he didn’t ask questions that he might not want to know the answer to. “I was just thinking I’ve left some loose ends.”
    “Are you winning the battle?”
    Lucky froze, her spoon in midair. This was as close as he’d ever come to talking about her mission. Maybe he knew more than she suspected.
    She set down the spoon. “There’s no real battle. Well, there is. I just find people that need to be . . . neutralized . . . and then I neutralize them.”
    “The police used the term ‘neutralize’ when they killed the gunman who opened fire at Clackamas Town Center.” He looked at her over his own soup spoon as he ladled the broth into his mouth.
    “I’m on the front lines of a war that will never really end,” she said, stepping carefully. “I’m just trying to keep ahead of the enemy.”
    “Sounds like an arms race.” He put his spoon down and picked up his knife, deliberately buttering a thick slice of bread.
    “What?”
    “You’re at war, but your enemy is evolving.”
    “Do you know what I do?” she asked.
    He stared past her and out the window. “There’s a particular type of newt that lives in this area. The Pacific newt. I’ve seen them in the back.” He pointed to the