I Spy a Dark Obsession by Jo Davis Page A

might believe he was being overly cautious. The awful memory of Michael bleeding out on the ground cured that notion. If he was being followed, he’d know soon enough.
    As Bastian pulled in to the Starbucks parking lot, the silver car turned in to a McDonald’s he’d passed about three businesses back, and got into the long drive-through line wrapped around the building. Bastian got out of his car, locked it, and strolled inside, the picture of a regular guy stopping for his daily jolt before heading to the nine-to-five. Not a care in the world.
    The Glock resting in the holster underneath his suit jacket told a different story. He hadn’t been quick enough to save Michael from the assassin’s bullets, and could have just as easily been the one dying because he hadn’t seen danger coming. Never again.
    Ten minutes later, he walked out carrying his caramel mocha and a small paper bag containing a cheese Danish, and casually glanced toward the McDonald’s. The silver car was almost to the pay window, if it was the same one. “Time to boogie,” he said under his breath.
    Sliding into his car, Bastian set his drink in the holder, the bag on the passenger’s seat, and got under way. As he left the parking lot, the silver car abandoned the line, headed for the exit, and eased into traffic, once again keeping several car lengths between them.
    “Bingo,” he muttered. “Now the question is, Who are you?”
    Could be Dietz, one of his henchmen, or anyone. Bastian had dozens of agents working scores of cases at the moment, all of which he was responsible for in Michael’s absence. Taking out a SHADO leader would be considered a coup for any of the country’s most wanted, not just Dietz, and he’d do well to remember that.
    The fact that the general public didn’t know of SHADO’s existence didn’t mean shit. Many who comprised society’s underbelly did, and that’s what counted.
    He was more than halfway to the compound and had turned onto the two-lane road several miles from his destination when the sedan made its move. In the rearview mirror, he saw the vehicle rapidly closing the distance, making no attempt to be discreet now that they were on an isolated stretch with help minutes away. Minutes that could prove fatal.
    Whipping out his cell phone, he placed a call to the emergency command center at SHADO, taking some comfort in the fact that those guys were ready to roll twenty-four/seven. The voice on the other end of the line was a godsend.
    “This is St. Laurent,” the man said in greeting, tense with concern. “Chevalier?”
    “Yeah, it’s me. I’m about six minutes out, got a visitor comin’ up my tailpipe and not in a good way. Silver sedan, no front plates. Must have something special under the hood to catch my Porsche. I need backup, Jude, five minutes ago.” The car continued to close the gap, and Bastian pressed hard on the accelerator.
    “You got it. Hang on.” The blind agent—one of the casualties in Dietz’s grab for power and money—exchanged a few brief words with someone on the other end, then returned. “Okay, we’ve got you on tracking. Stay ahead of the target and our team will intercept.”
    “Tell them to hurry, man. Things are about to get nasty.”
    With that he closed his phone and tucked it into his suit pocket—
    Just as the sedan rammed him from behind. Cursing, he fought to control his lightweight sports car as it fishtailed. While he had his hands full, the driver whipped to the left and put on a burst of speed, bringing the sedan even with his car. Bastian grabbed for the Glock under his jacket and palmed it. Glanced over to see the other driver already had his hand cannon pointed at Bastian’s window.
    “Fuck!”
    He ducked as the window shattered in a spray of glass. Felt his car get rammed again, jerking to the right. Sitting up, he intended to pop off a shot out the broken window, only to see that he was already on the shoulder of the road, barreling toward