Helping Jeanny [3]

"She's definitely a Genie!!" Thief exclaims happily before bursting into laughter. I squint my eyes in disapproval.

"She is not!" I deny with a pout.

"She is! She can magically disappear. Even better... she can make you look like a fool!" Thief laughs even louder.

This girl loves giving people nicknames—puns based on their names. She calls me Score, a play on Scorpion. She says it suits me because I've never failed to score a point when killing people. Rolled eyes.

She named herself Thief because she's an expert at stealing anything digital. Andy? He got the nickname Fake, from his surname Vaccaro—obviously because he's a master at faking people's appearances.

But Jeanny? No way. She's definitely not a Genie. I snort.

"So, can you open the file?" I change the subject.

Thief finally responds after subsiding her laughter.

"It was open within seconds of me receiving it," she says casually.

I sigh. She really lives up to her nickname.

"So... what is it?" I ask again.

"It's filled with numbers. Some kind of financial records," she replies, then pauses before asking, "Does Cougar Momma sound familiar to you?"

I frown. "Yeah, it's the name of the pub I used to hang out at."

Why would Jeanny need the pub's financial records? And more importantly, how did she even get them?

"There are thousands of transactions here," Thief continues, "but the ones marked with a highlight all have an X as their sender. And guess what? Every single one is over a hundred thousand dollars."

"X?" I mutter. "Could they be cash transactions from customers?"

"Hmm... nope. Cash transactions from the pub are marked as ch," Thief answers after analyzing the files for a few seconds. "But these are definitely cash, because the financial database logs every bank account that has ever done transactions with the pub. I even found your bank account here... and Andy's."

"That's suspicious," I murmur, thinking about those mysterious X transactions.

"Oh wow... did you know who owns the pub?" Thief suddenly asks.

"Nope," I answer.

"A politician named Antonio Belladrick. Just search him—you'll find something interesting," Thief instructs.

I type his name into a search engine. A few links to news articles appear. Clicking on one, I start reading.

Turns out, Mr. Belladrick is currently facing corruption and money laundering charges in my district. I click another article, scanning for more details about his case.

I gasp when I see a picture of a woman standing in a courtroom, pointing at Belladrick.

She looks a lot like Jeanny—except this woman has red hair and green eyes. Her lips also aren't as full as Jeanny's. But aside from those differences... they're nearly identical.

The article identifies her as the new District Attorney, Jennifer McCourtney.

For the umpteenth time, I glance at my watch.

It's already 4:30 PM.

I've been sitting on these courthouse stairs for nearly three hours, waiting. I hadn't expected her to take this long.

I sigh.

She has to walk past me sooner or later—her car is parked just a few meters away.

Finally, after another half an hour, I hear her voice from behind me. She's chatting with someone as they descend the steps.

"Only one more trial, Matt. We have to give our best tomorrow. I'm sure our evidence will shut them up for good."

"You're amazing, Jen. I can't believe you managed to get that evidence..."

"Hi, Jen," I call out.

Jennifer, who just passed me, stops mid-step. Her eyes widen when she sees me.

Slowly, I rise to my feet.

"Or should I call you Jeanny?" I mock.

"Jen, do you know this guy?" the man beside her—Matt—asks.

"I don't—"

I jump forward at the same time a bullet flies past, hitting Matt instead of her.

"Aaarrgghh!!" Matt screams in pain as I tackle Jennifer, rolling both of us down the courthouse steps.

"Matt!!"

As soon as we stop rolling, Jennifer shoves me off and scrambles to her feet, running back to Matt. I follow.

"Arggh!! What happened?" Matt groans weakly, lying flat on the stairs.

"Are you okay? Where did you get hit?" Jennifer asks frantically, panic written all over her face.

If this weren't an urgent situation, I would have rolled my eyes at her dumb question.

The guy was shot in the chest. Blood is pouring from the wound.

"Matt, hang in there! Hang in there, okay?!" Jennifer shouts in panic. Then she turns to me.

"What do we do?! We have to call 911, right?!"

I nod, then rip off my jacket and press it firmly against Matt's wound, applying pressure with both hands.

"Am I gonna die?" Matt asks weakly, fear in his eyes.

"You'll be alright, man. You'll be alright, okay? Just hang in there. Try your best to stay conscious," I reassure him.

A small crowd starts gathering around us.

"Call 911!" I shout.

Some people immediately pull out their phones, dialing.

"He's going to be okay," a doctor tells Jennifer.

"The bullet didn't hit any major organs. He's stable now."

Jennifer exhales deeply, the tension in her shoulders finally loosening.

"Thank you, doctor," she says weakly before sinking back onto the waiting room bench beside me, sighing in relief.

Her face is completely pale—she looks like she was the one who got shot.

"You good?" I ask.

She nods numbly.

I wrap an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her upper arm to comfort her.

"It was meant for me, wasn't it?" she murmurs.

I nod.

She trembles.

What I don't tell her is that the bullet was aimed for her head. If I hadn't jumped when I did... her chances of surviving would have been close to zero.

Jennifer starts crying—silent, shaken sobs.

I don't say anything. I just rub her arm again, letting her process the shock.

"Thank you," she whispers once her tears subside.

"Don't mention it," I say. "I just happened to see the guy pointing a gun at you while riding his bike."

"Did you get his license plate?" she asks.

I shake my head.

She sighs.

"It has to be Belladrick," she mutters.

Then, as if she suddenly needs to get everything off her chest, she starts talking.

"I was an assistant DA," she confesses. "We had been building a case against Belladrick for months. When we finally had enough evidence to take him to court... my boss died from a sudden heart attack. Every single piece of evidence in his possession vanished. So I had to start over."

She swallows hard before continuing.

"I knew Belladrick was using the pub to launder his dirty money, so I went undercover as a striptease dancer to steal the financial records."

I nod. That much I had already pieced together.

At that moment, two police officers approach us.

Of course.

We're witnesses to a shooting—they'll need to question us.

"After this, you should go home," I tell Jennifer. "You said tomorrow is the final trial, right? Don't give up now."

She looks up at me, fear still lingering in her eyes.

I hesitate for a second before offering—

"Do you want to stay at my apartment tonight?"

"Please..." she whispers.