Shadow Men – 21 – Rafe and Steele

"The windy city, my ass," Rafe grumbled. "It could use some wind to blow away the heat."

Steele chuckled as he watched his partner fan himself with a flyer he'd found on the floor of their hideaway. Admittedly it was unseasonably hot but not as bad as Rafe was making it out to be. Steele knew him well enough to know it was nerves that were getting to him whether he'd admit it or not.

They had been in the city for a week now, first on the north side and now in a small apartment building in the Hyde Park area not far from the University. This was Rafe's first home, not the apartment but the city. He'd grown up here, in Little Italy, and that's where they'd headed the first day. Not to visit Rafe's family. They wanted nothing to do with him and hadn't for years. Instead, Rafe got in touch with an old and trusted friend, one who had nothing to do with the Colonel or his people.

Angelo had greeted him like a long lost brother. At Rafe's request and without asking him why, Angelo had found them this apartment. "Trust me," he'd said, "there ain't anybody who's going to question you being there because there ain't anyone living there. Just make certain no one sees you coming and going."

No one had and after four days they were still waiting, with varying degrees of patience, for their contact to let them know it was safe to come see him. Steele, because he was the calmer of the two, had spent his time with his nose buried in anything readable. Rafe was the high-strung one, he always had been. His idea of killing time, other than the obvious, was to range the vacant building until he knew it like the back of his hand, all five floors of it.

"We could always go down to the basement, it has to be cooler there," Steele suggested.

"Barely," Rafe growled. "When's the bastard going to call?"

"Temper, temper. You know it'll happen when it happens and not before."

"I'm about ready to go find him and the hell with what he said."

Steele refrained from replying because he wasn't certain but what he agreed with Rafe. He was not, however, going to tell him so until he gave it more thought. He crossed to the window, stood to the side to stay out of sight while still able to look out over the neighborhood. There would be one advantage, he thought, in going to their contact; no one would expect them to.

The man was powerful, the reason they'd chosen him, and when he gave an order he expected it to be followed. He had ordered them to wait until he gave them permission to come to him. Steele wondered if it would queer the deal if they disobeyed him. With the information they had about the Colonel, his gut feeling was that once their contact got past his anger he'd be willing to look at it and hopefully do what was necessary to stop the bastard.

Steele started to turn to tell Rafe they'd do it when something caught his eye. He couldn't have said why but it did, just a quick flash of light from the roof of the building opposite theirs. It would have meant nothing if he could have seen the cause—however, no one was visible. And as Rafe had pointed out in frustration, there wasn't even a breeze that might have caused something to move on the roof.

He turned, finger to his lips, and pointed to the backpack that held the information as well as some of their tools. With a nod Rafe grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder then checked his weapons. Steele took his sheathed knives from under the battered sofa pillows where he'd hidden them, strapping them to his forearms.