So, pick the brain of some brainy kid who worked with Professor Pasquali, couldn’t be that hard, right? Wrong.
Dean’s phone calls to Bill Summers had gone unreturned so Dean drove out to the University of Utah and started poking around. It turned out that the graduate student had been missing for over a week. It was in all the papers so Dean thought it was weird that the Professor hadn't seemed. When he called Professor Pasquali, the professor said that Bill had been in contact with him by e-mail. So had the kid just quit school to work on the professor’s project?
After Dean dug into the guy's background, he just knew he wasn't dealing with someone who would pick up and go on a whim. Disguised as an FBI agent, he'd talked to Bill's parents and everything they told him painted a picture of someone who was meticulous and ordered, who’d had planned out his life from when he was ten or so, and who'd never been irresponsible. Not someone who'd drop out of sight and make his family and friends worry while he got his research-kicks looking for the holy sword.
From some of the students, Dean found out something that didn't jibe well with what he knew about Bill. He was told that Bill had been seen with members of a biker gang called the Death Lords. He'd figured it must be some yuppie wanna-be-badass-on--weekends type of gang, but a little research showed quite the opposite. It was a gang that had been started in San Bernardino, California, in the 40’s or 50’s, and now it was spread across the country and was 30 chapters strong. The gang had been investigated by authorities a number of times and arrests and convictions had been made for dealing methamphetamine, racketeering and murder. They were the kind of people Dean would expect someone like Bill to stay the hell away from.
So now he found himself in South Salt Lake, a seedy area of town, but not quite suffering, in a strip club. He'd taken up a position at the end of the bar that curved along the wall all the way to the stage, so he was up against the stage and could listen in on conversation when the music wasn't so loud.
The place was crawling with big guys wearing leather jackets with red and white patches across the back depicting the grim reaper. Fights easily broke out and those punches weren't being pulled. This was no Disney biker gang, that was for sure.
First, he’d need to figure out which of these guys were in the know about shit, and face them alone rather than in a pack. He wished that Sam... yeah, those days were over unless he got what he needed. And he would.
Sydney couldn't hear the DJ announce her stage name over the pounding crash of the death metal beat, but an unceremonious shove from one of the gang thugs put her in motion. Taking a breath, the agent steeled her expression, using the hard line of her jaw to accentuate the bad-girl persona she'd adopted to infiltrate the Death Lords as an exotic dancer in a club owned by them. The soft leather body suit clung to her curves as she strutted onto the stage to a roar of catcalls. She tried to scan the crowd to see if her target was in sight, but the cheap flashing strobe and spotlight made it difficult to see anything beyond the edge of the stage. She'd have to wait until the point in her routine when she was in the dark and the audience was lit.
The lip of the beer bottle was touching his mouth and Dean had been ready to take a swig, when the next dancer came out. She hadn't even started to dance, but Dean could see she owned the stage, and the audience. He wasn't the only one to put his drink down and pay closer attention.
She wasn't even his type. Sure he liked his women sexy and unapologetic, but bright blue hair and a nose ring, not really his thing. Even as those thoughts ran through his mind, his eyes were focused on the way her hair brushed her shoulders each time she tilted her head to one side or the other and he knew there was no way he'd ever say 'no' if she offered him a lap dance. His gaze slide down her body. The black leather hot pants looked like they were painted on and left about nothing to his imagination. The moment she opened her long, lean legs in a wide stance and bowed backwards, reaching for the pole behind her, Dean felt the definite stirrings of lust.
He had all night, he could watch one dance without thinking about work, he told himself as she swayed back up and his eyes focused on her face. Thick black eyeliner gave her eyes a dramatic cat-like look and her scarlet lips were very hard to ignore. Something about her... yeah, she was different. Her eyes were anything but glassy and vacant like the other dancers, but there was something else. Something danced on the edges of his memory. Damn, it was hard to think as he watched her hips rock from side to side and her fingers grazed the spiked collar around her neck before moving to the zipper. Fuck yeah.
His fingers tightened around the bottle as he held his breath.
Even as she pulled the zipper down to her belly button and rolled her shoulders to liberate her body from the restrictive leather, Sydney's mind was working ten steps ahead. All she had to do was catch the eye of the leader of the Death Lords, to be his chosen girl for the night. Once she had access to the private rooms underground, it was just a matter of subduing him before he got too handsy. Then she'd be able to rescue Bill and hopefully get her hands on the spear, if it hadn't already been moved through the gang's black market connections.
As the music reached a pounding crescendo she stepped out of the hot pants until she was wearing nothing but a black leather bra and g-string. Her accessories were all compliments of Marshall -- the spiked collar, matching wrist bands and stiletto boots were all fully equipped with weapons and tech. She kicked high and hooked her leg around the pole, arching her body back and flipping her legs over her head as she worked her way higher and higher. When she reached the top, she was suddenly bathed in darkness and quickly scanned the crowd until she spotted the gang leader sitting at the end of the bar, but it was the man sitting next to him that caused her to falter and nearly lose her grip. What was he
In the next instant, the spotlight was back on her and Sydney fell backward, her body springing into a lithe flip. Without missing a beat, her hands stroked over her body, writhing to the rhythm of the music, but her mind spun ahead, playing out all possible scenarios. Was he working with them? Was he following the same lead she had? Was he following her?
Moving like a panther stalking her prey, she moved toward the leader, forcing herself to play to him as she bent over and her fingers teased under the string of her garment. But when her back was to him, she arched her neck and her eyes flicked to the guy she'd run into at UCLA. The look of recognition was instant and she pierced him with a menacing gaze.
If he wanted up close and personal with the dancers, Dean was in the right place since they all knew to play it up for the leader of the Death Lords, who'd moved up the bar and was now sitting next to Dean. Practically mesmerized by the blue haired chic's movements, Dean lost his grin and went slack jawed when she bent over and their eyes met. Her!
How... she was the exact opposite of demure-hot-librarian-chick.
He ran his hand over his face, trying to break the spell he seemed to be under. How? Well that was obvious. The same way he went from FBI agent to the kind of guy who'd spend hours at a strip club. Okay, maybe her change was more drastic, but still.
was here about Bill, and from what he could see, she was making points big time with Killer-dude on his left. Shit. And yeah, he meant that on multiple levels because he didn't think she was equipped to deal with these guys, even if she was good with pulling guns and playing around with computers. This was a whole other ballgame here and she didn't seem to realize it. And, determined as she was, and ahead of him for the moment, it seemed she had a shot at getting to Bill and finding the spear before him. Goddamnit...
The look Dean gave her the next time their eyes met showed his frustration, though, when her hand moved over her bra straps, he was quickly reduced to just one of the guys waiting to see if it was just a tease.
Hips swiveling, Sydney redoubled her efforts to get on with the mission despite the added complication of a meddling element. But holy cow, those beautiful green eyes were distracting. The way he was looking at her with a mixture of shock and awe and something else... But she couldn't worry about that now. She had a job to do.
The secret agent locked eyes with her target and teased him with every undulating movement. When she knelt before him and arched her back, she knew it was do or die time. Her hands moved around behind her back ready to release her bra, but a beefy arm reached out and dragged her off the stage before she could.
An almost victorious smile curled her lip as her eyes slid to the guy she only knew as bogus CIA Agent Beddington. Bruno had chosen his girl, and just like their source had told them, he never let anybody see the package before he got to unwrap it.
"You're with me, babe," the leader of the Death Lord's rumbled in her ear as he swept her into his arms and turned to take her toward the back of the club.
Dean's jaw tightened at the triumphant look in her eyes. Any reasonable woman would not be happy to have been pulled off the edge of the bar like that and at the mercy of a guy three times her size, even if she needed information. Hell, Dean hadn't looked forward to being alone with the guy, and that was saying something.
He tried not to react and just pretended to drink his beer, though he openly admired her assets, just like everyone else near them.
As they walked away, Dean saw Bruno's hand slide down over Sydney's ass and squeeze. It was more than detached displeasure that had him gripping the bottle tight and forcing himself to stay at the bar for a reasonable time so it didn't look like he was following.
"Anyone walks in here and I'll fuck his shit up," Bruno said to one of his guys as he headed to the stairwell and opened the door. "You and me, we're gonna party like it's the end of the world." He sniffed her neck as she walked past him and started heading down the stairs. "What's your name? I like to know whose name to shout out," he said, leering at her ass in the dark stairwell.
"Roxie," Sydney tossed over her shoulder in a sultry whisper as she walked in a way that was sure to keep his eyes on her backside leaving her free to slip the vial containing the truth serum from her thick leather wrist band. "And believe me, I'll give you something to shout about..." she smirked and continued on into the underground rooms, her eyes taking in every detail before she turned to face him.
"So you run this place?" Still palming the vial, she ran her hands inside his thick leather jacket and looked up at him with a spark of mischief in her eye. "Do I get the grand tour?" she probed, hoping to get an idea of where he might be holding the student captive.
"I'll give you the grand tour, every inch of me," he agreed, pulling her close so she was pressed up against him. "Right after you give me the best, dirtiest lap dance ya got." He pressed his already hard cock proudly against her belly and started to walk her down the hall. "My office," he nodded to the right. "Private rooms," he said as they passed a series of rooms with open doorways covered with sheer curtains, music and groans streaming out of some of them. "None of your business," he said as they passed a metal door, and then he pushed a door open and practically shoved her inside. "Welcome to my love nest."
Sydney suppressed the bile that threatened to rise in her throat and focused on staying one step ahead of the manhandling oaf. She'd been in grittier situations, but this guy was just about as unsophisticated as they came and she couldn't help but wonder how this idiot had managed to get involved in something this big. "Nice," she nodded as if she were impressed by the relative luxury of the bed that dominated the room. She made mental note of the number of steps it would take to reach the "off limits" room which looked to be equipped with standard lock and bolt, but the guards could prove to be a problem.
"Now you have a seat, big boy..." she flashed him a dimpled smile as she shoved him back into the large chair. Having tucked the vial inside her bra within easy reach, she raised her arms and started dancing, hips swaying from side to side, teasing him with seductive looks until she was sure his guard was down.
Turning, she planted her feet wide and bent over slowly, grinding over his lap without actually touching him. She used the opportunity to slip the syringe from her boot and load it with the serum so she was ready when he reached for her and pulled her into his lap.
"Yeah... yeah, that's it baby, closer," he said, a flush washing over him when she nearly sat in his lap but lifted up. He let her get away with it for another moment, then snarled, "I'm looking for full body contact here, bitch." When she didn't move fast enough, Bruno slapped a meaty hand over her ass and dragged her down hard onto his lip, "unzip it with your teeth," he demanded.
"Yeah, not happening," Sydney ground out with disgust as she countered his move and slipped back upright to jam the syringe in the artery that bulged from his thick neck. The serum was laced with a fast acting agent that would paralyze him in moments so all she had to do was step back out of his reach and wait.
What she didn't expect was the flash of speed and impossible strength that had her pinned to the bed before she had a chance to blink. Her heart raced as she looked up into eyes as black as night, but it wasn't until he snarled and revealed double rows of razor sharp teeth that she erupted in an uncharacteristic scream.
"Scream baby scream," he snarled, his hand slipping up her body to her throat. "Who are you, and what are you doing here," he snarled, leaving the useless syringe sticking out of his neck. "Talk, unless you want to see how you look without lips." He brought his mouth closer to hers, refusing to budge even as she kicked at him.
Eyes wild with genuine terror, Syd reacted on pure instinct. Fighting for her life, she managed to get the dagger from her boot and with adrenaline-charged strength, she plunged it into his spine.
Dean kicked the door open and had his gun out, pointing at Bruno's back. He'd followed her down and then chatted with a leather jacketed dude, an older guy who’d been more than willing to talk about classic bikes and cars as Dean pretended to wait for one of the dancers to change and get down here for his lap dance. He'd meant to stick around and find out what was going on, but the sound of a scream had him in action. He'd knocked the thug out and left his ass in one of the lap dance rooms.
When he broke into the room, he expected to find Bruno going farther than Miss CIA wanted. Instead, when Bruno turned, he found himself facing a vampire.
Goddamit, the world seemed to be crawling with them these days. Seeing the dagger in her hand, he shook his head. "You need a bigger knife," he said, shoving the gun into his waistband and pulling a long, serrated knife out of his inner jacket pocket.
Bruno backhanded Sydney across the face and was off the bed and onto Dean in a fraction of a second. Dean slammed his elbow into the vampire's face, took a hit to the gut and twisted around trying to position Bruno just right.
As soon as the weight was off her, Sydney sprang to her feet, grateful that the mystery guy chose that moment to horn in on her mission. She didn't know what was up with Bruno's dental issues, but he had to be on some freakishly strong drugs or something. If they could just hold him off long enough for the paralyzing agent to work...
In a swift motion Sydney grabbed lamp and smashed it over the back of the Death Lord's head. But instead of knocking him off balance, it only caused him to turn back to her and lunge.
"Sonova..." Dean went after him, this time getting his arm around the guy's shoulders from behind. Seeing as he didn't have a machete handy, instead of using the knife to slice across the vampire's throat, Dean stabbed the sharp end into his throat, from the front all the way through to his brain stem, then twisted it around and cut through to one side. Hacking the knife back the other way while holding the vampire by the hair, he decapitated the bastard and punted its head across the room.
If that was a flash of anger
in her eyes... of all things... "Look at the bright side, you didn't get your clothes dirty," Dean said, noting some blood had splattered over her, but not a whole lot. He, on the other hand, was partly covered in it. Wiping his hand, he told her, "I suggest you beat it, before all hell breaks loose."
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Sydney blurted, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. "I was about to interrogate him." Even as she spat out the words she knew something wasn't right. Blood should have been spurting everywhere, but instead it just pooled near the torso.
She spun around as the guy casually wiped the blood from his knife and hands onto the bedspread. "You have no
idea what you've just stepped into, mister." She activated the two way-radio on her spiked collar, her eyes remained fixed on the guy as she spoke. "Vaughn. Mission compromised. It's that guy again... the one from UCLA."
"Are you okay Syd?" her handler's concerned voice came back.
"Yeah, I'm fine. But the target is... dead..." she glanced down again at the torso that seemed to almost be caving in on itself as if it was decaying before her eyes. "Before I could get any intel."
Dean's eyes narrowed on her as he quickly assessed she had some sort of back up. "'Mission compromised?' How about 'ass saved?'" he asked. He was torn between getting out there and looking for Bill, and finding out who the hell she was and her goal. Was the CIA after the spear or did she work for some other group? Sliding the knife into his jacket, he glanced at door. How long before they discovered the body in the lap dancing room and came crashing in here?
"Do you need an extraction team?" Vaughn asked.
"No," Sydney shook her head, still not taking her eyes off the other guy. "I'll get the hostage and get out. But in the meantime, have Marshall run a face recognition on our mystery guy from the security footage last week. I'll check in when I'm clear." And with that, she severed the connection.
Holding her position, she lifted her chin and leveled her gaze on the guy. As she looked him over, she suddenly felt all too exposed and an unexpected flush colored her cheeks. Determined not let his disarming good looks affect her, she stalked over toward the bathroom and grabbed a skimpy robe off the wall and cinched it tight around herself.
"Since they're not already breaking down the door, I assume you took care of the guards," Sydney reasoned. "And since our dead friend Bruno here made sure we wouldn't be bothered, we should have a few minutes. So while they still think their boss is getting the grind of his life, why don't you start by telling me your name since I'm about to find out everything about you soon enough."
"Dan. Landis, though I doubt you'll find anything interesting on me. How about you give me your name. Your real one, and tell me what you're up to. You owe me at least that since I didn't hear a ‘thank you,’" he said, "Oh, the guard is in one of the pleasure rooms, so we don't have all day." He didn't miss the fact that the slinky robe did nothing to hide her curves. Damn, she sure had a way of making it hard for him to think.
The agent took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair. "Okay, Dan." She glanced back over at the head, its expression frozen in a gruesome rictus, rows of shark-like teeth making it look more like a monster than anything human. "Thank you," she said, turning a sincere gaze back on him.
"My real name is
Sydney... Sydney Bristow. And I really am a student," she told him with a slight shrug. "Though it's mostly my cover these days. I'm with the CIA. We've been working this operation for a while now and I can't let you interfere the mission -- despite your fortuitous timing," she added with a dimpled smile before her expression turned serious again. "I'm going to have to ask you to step aside."
"Are you hiding a machete in there," he nodded toward her skimpy outfit. "Because if there are any more of them
out there, I'd like to hear how you're going to handle them," he said, crossing his arms.
"I'm well-armed," she said, lifting her chin defensively. "And I can handle these thugs. Another few seconds and he would have dropped from the drug I gave him and I would have the answers I need. Seriously? A machete? What are you anyway... some kind of back woods Ninja?"
"Back woods ninja... I like it." He should just walk out, but he didn't. "So you didn't notice that your drug didn't work?" He assumed she'd been trying to immobilize Bruno. "And the fucked up teeth, that escape your notice, agent Bristow?" He could tell she was ready to climb up her high horse so he acted quickly, walking to the corpse and kicking it in the chest so it rolled over onto its back.
"How about that, would you call that a human
? Try vampire, and you will
need something sharp. Guns are useless, you know I'm packing," he said, noting he hadn’t used one. "Now you and me, we're looking for the same guy. You want to do it together and give me five minutes with the guy, then he's all yours?" He didn't mention the spear and didn't have any intention of letting her drag Bill anywhere unless he wanted to go with her, at least not unless he was sure she was CIA.
Sydney let out a bark of laughter, but as her eyes followed his, she realized that he wasn't making a joke. The corpse didn't
look normal. There had been absolutely no sign of arterial pumping after decapitation. And that head... she moved over to the head and crouched down to examine the teeth. There would have been no way he could have had some kind of denture to cover the multiple rows of razor-like fangs. She slowly rose to her feet and stared at the guy. "What is this? Some kind of cult?" she started to question, but a shout caught her ear and she realized they were out of time.
"Come on," she said as she darted for the door. They'd just have to sort this out later. With her dagger in one hand she pulled her tranq gun from her other boot and started out the door. She'd only made it two steps when she turned to see one of the Death Lords with those same fangs bearing down on them. "Dan!" she called the warning out, but she was already on it, walking to the thug and showing him a flash of her blade as she side stepped him, and forced him to turn to her.
This time, it wasn't a fluke. Dean knew she was drawing the vampire's attention on purpose so he had a chance to get behind it so he could put a choke hold on it. The vampire walked backwards, stepping away from her, and slammed it’s back into him, pressing him into the wall. Cursing, Dean held on and worked on getting the knife at the right angle. Course she picked that moment to kick the thing in the stomach so Dean's back was smashed against the wall twice more before he slit its throat.
Shoving it to the ground and stepping on its chest, he finished the job. "Get the door," he said, then rolled the body inside. "Get the head." He was sure she would tell him to take a hike.
Sydney grimaced, but grabbed a fistful of hair and tossed the head through the door after the rest of the body. "This way," she said and bolted down the hall.
Realizing she wouldn't have time to pick the lock, she slowed and slipped her hand behind her temporary partner to lift the pistol she knew would be tucked into the small of his back. In a swift motion, she shot the lock and slammed her shoulder into the door to push it open. "There's an underground passage that leads into the sewer system that way. Make sure our exit is clear," she said before ducking into the room.
He glanced inside the room, saw a startled clean-cut kid in front of a computer and realized she'd found Bill. "Alright, but I want my gun back. Both
of them," he added, leaving to make sure the coast was clear.
He hurried down the hall and saw where there was a grill on the ground. Bending, he put his fingers through the gaps and pulled it up, shoving it to the side and looking up as he heard her pushing Bill to hurry. Standing up, he made room for the two of them to head down the ladder while he scanned for more company. He hoped her intel was right but it wasn't like they could drag Bill upstairs and walk him out of the club, especially now that he knew vampires were involved. No wonder this gang had the rep it did.
Thanks to Marshall's mission briefing, Sydney was able to lead them through the maze of sewers. They emerged out of a manhole on a littered street where she had a car waiting. She entered the code for the keyless entry and the doors unlocked. "Get in," she told Dan as she put Bill in the back seat, promising him that he was safe now. As soon as she got behind the wheel, she put on her blue tooth and dialed her handler. "Vaughn, we're clear and I'm en route with Bill. What's the story on our mystery man?" she said flicking a glance over to the guy as he stood outside the passenger door, not yet willing to get in. "Get in the car... please.
His car was on the street in front of the club, but there was no way he was letting her take Bill. Opening the door, he locked gazes with her and put his hand out. "Give me my piece."
"What's going on, I thought you two were the cops," the shaken student said from the back seat, as he watched the tug of war between the pair. "Get me outta here, please."
Sydney's jaw hardened as Michael read off the rap sheet for the guy that had just saved her ass from something she still hadn't quite wrapped her mind around yet. Dean Winchester. Wanted by the FBI for murder, grand theft, and impersonation of an officer. She knew the Lords of Death would be combing the streets in a matter of minutes and she couldn't very well let the guy go, so she made a split second decision to hand him back his weapon. She knew he had a shotgun on him anyway, so it didn't make much difference. Once he was in the car, she peeled away from the curb.
"Sydney? Syd? Is everything okay?" Michael was saying urgently in her ear.
"Yes," she said evenly, giving no hint of the plan she was formulating. "Tell Cook I'll be at the transfer point in ten minutes. And keep trying to dig up intel on the mystery man," she added to make him believe she didn't know anything yet.
"Syd..." Vaughn said, recognizing the tone in her voice.
"I need you to check one thing for me," she cut him off. "Vampires. Do the Death Lords have some kind of underground cult going?"
"Just check it out," she said before ending the call.
"Ten minutes? We're stopping in five," Dean told her. She'd been using her earpiece this time so he hadn't heard what was being said to her, and that made him nervous. "Alright, pull over. I said pull over," he repeated, though he didn't raise the gun. He did have to hang onto the door handle as she brought the car to a careening stop in an empty parking lot. He shot her a glare, but turned bodily toward Bill.
"Bill, I'm a private investigator. I spoke with Professor Pasquali and also your parents, they're very worried. Obviously they want you home and we're gonna get you there, but you might need some protection because until those people get what they want, they won't stop." At the guy's nod, Dean continued. "Did they get it. The spear?" It was obvious she knew about it so there was nothing to gain in beating around the bushes about it.
"No, it's not in the states." Bill ran his hand through his hair. "I mean I told them, told them everything, but they wanted to monitor my emails anyway."
"Where is it?"
"Well after World War Two--"
"The short version. Please. Agent Bristow is anxious to be on her way, and before that happens, I need some answers."
"Um okay. My best guess is that by now it's en route to Vatican City. It's being shipped to Amsterdam first, for an expert to look at it," he added. "If it’s the right one. I mean we've tracked 3 of them so far and two of them have been frauds."
"Amsterdam and Italy... great. And they know about this? The Death Lords?"
Bill nodded. "I thought they were going to kill me. Besides, it's not even a secret. I mean it's a myth. The powers of the spear," he shrugged.
Dean got a few more details out of Bill with Sydney butting in with her own questions, which might have bugged him if they weren't good ones. It was kind of like having Sam along, though the thought of Sam in her getup... eesh.
When Dean was satisfied he'd gotten everything he needed, he looked at her. "Gimme your card. I want to call your information in, to confirm you are who you say."
Sydney shot Dean a steely glare. The jackass really had some nerve questioning her identity when he was still feeding her a load of total hooey. "Sorry, I don't have a card on me..." she gestured to her outfit. "You can call my handler," she handed over her cell phone. Just hit redial. His name is Michael Vaughn." She really hoped Vaughn had figured out where she was going with this and play along.
"I know that trick." A muscle throbbed in his jaw. He pulled out his own phone and called Bobby, giving him Sydney's name and description and asking him to call the CIA and see if they had an agent by that name. He didn't want to mess around with waiting on hold until they got him to the right department. A few moments later, his phone rang and Bobby told him she was legit. "Thanks, I'll tell you later," he said, ignoring the man's demand to know why it was so important to wake him up in the middle of the night.
"Alright, Agent Bristow, always a pleasure." He grinned, and he actually meant it. "If you give me your number and want to have a drink after... after your handler ‘handles you’ or whatever, I'll let you know where to meet me." Opening the door and stepping out, he leaned in, waiting on her answer.
Sydney grit her teeth and swallowed. He was a murderer and she had to remember that. She didn't want to let him just walk away, but delivering Bill to safety was her priority. "Give me your phone and I'll put it in for you," she reached her hand out, offering a sweet smile.
"Yeah? And what else will you put in?" he asked. "Tell you what, lemme see what's in your hands." The last thing he needed was for her to use her hi-tech-foo and put a bug in his phone or some sort of tracking device. When she showed him, he was sure he should still be doubting that innocent expression of hers, but he handed the phone to her and watched carefully to make sure didn’t play one of her tricks.
"Not very trusting, are you..." she said with a shake of her head. With just a few extra deft movements across the keypad, Sydney was able to retrieve the IP address so she' be able to track his location through the phone's GPS before handing it back with her number added to his contact list. "Just give me time to get changed and then let me know where you want to meet."
"Fine. Syd... don't bring anyone." His tone held a hint of a warning, before he pulled back, pocketed the phone.
Maybe he could catch a bus, or take one of the cars parked at the gas station/garage across the street. Formulating his plan, he pulled his jacket collar up and crossed the street.