street. She took one look at it, turned and ran.
The assassin then got up from the sidewalk. He wasn’t hurt. But somehow his face already looked dead. Despair welled in his black eyes. Even though there was no visible penetration of his flesh, he looked as if I’d just dealt him a mortal blow. He held out his hands. “Arrest me.”
Marco and I exchanged looks. What did he know about this weapon that we didn’t? As Marco pulled a pair of cuffs out of his back pocket, he said, “Why are you making this so easy?”
The sweating, bruised young man replied, “Because I’m dead already. You have a gun? Shoot me, please. It will be faster.”
“I’d shoot if I had my weapon,” Marco mutteredout of the side of his mouth. Then he marched forward, spun the assassin around and cuffed him. “Killing you would be too compassionate. You’re going to have to endure overnight lodging courtesy of the county of Cook.”
“ Govno ,” the gunman cursed in Russian.
“Just think of the jail as a bed-and-breakfast on a budget.”
I chuckled in spite of the circumstances. Marco shot me a smile, which I returned, then I frowned. It was time to start figuring out why the R.M.O. had tried to kill us. More important, I needed to know when the next attempt on our lives would be since they weren’t easily discouraged.
Chapter 7
The Long, Hot Night
M arco called into headquarters on his lapel phone. He got no answers as to why his backup had disappeared, but a squad car arrived quickly and took the R.M.O. assassin downtown. The APB on Lola had turned up nothing. And DNA results indicated the headless body was a Polish cleaning lady who took care of Lola’s apartment in exchange for future predictions. By the looks of the apartment, Lola and her cleaning lady had ripped each other off.
When Marco offered to give me a lift home, I made no attempt to decline. Granted, a niggling voice inside my head warned me that his insidious masculinity and good looks were a lethal combination. Therefore, I definitely should have returnedthe way I’d arrived, via public transportation. But I was dog-tired and didn’t want to fight a crowd. Besides, when you almost bite the bullet with someone, you want to talk about it over a couple of beers.
Marco took me back to my place in his old hydrogen-powered SUV. Because my back was sore from our scuffle outside Lola’s apartment, he took Lake Shore Drive. The land lanes on LSD were well paved, unlike the grid of neglected city streets. Just before we arrived in front of my two-flat, Marco received bad news. The backup he’d been counting on had gone missing under suspicious circumstances.
In the brooding silence, as cars whizzed by on the curved ribbons of pavement, I felt his sense of betrayal in my own gut. Not good. I could not afford to empathize with this man. I glanced at his profile—the strong, straight nose, the rugged jaw, the lush yet firm-set lips. My mouth almost watered.
Nope, there would be no beers tonight. We could commiserate about our brush with death another time. Right now I needed distance from him. When he pulled up in front of my two-flat and turned off his engine, I reached for the car door.
“Hey.” He grabbed my left arm. “I owe you a beer, remember? I can run to a store and come back.”
“No.” I was quick to answer and forced a bright smile. “No, it’s okay. I won’t hold you to that. I have to go.”
“But I want to.”
He still held my arm. His strong fingers felt like kindling catching fire on my skin. Amazed, I looked at his hand, then into his eyes, not even pretendingto be tough. “Detective, I know that when you face danger with someone, there is a sense of…closeness. But it’s a false sense of comfort. You don’t like me, remember? Besides, I’m bad luck. Someone wants to kill me and they almost took you down in the attempt. So let’s just call it a night.”
I whisked out of the car and shut the door before he could protest. I waved
The assassin then got up from the sidewalk. He wasn’t hurt. But somehow his face already looked dead. Despair welled in his black eyes. Even though there was no visible penetration of his flesh, he looked as if I’d just dealt him a mortal blow. He held out his hands. “Arrest me.”
Marco and I exchanged looks. What did he know about this weapon that we didn’t? As Marco pulled a pair of cuffs out of his back pocket, he said, “Why are you making this so easy?”
The sweating, bruised young man replied, “Because I’m dead already. You have a gun? Shoot me, please. It will be faster.”
“I’d shoot if I had my weapon,” Marco mutteredout of the side of his mouth. Then he marched forward, spun the assassin around and cuffed him. “Killing you would be too compassionate. You’re going to have to endure overnight lodging courtesy of the county of Cook.”
“ Govno ,” the gunman cursed in Russian.
“Just think of the jail as a bed-and-breakfast on a budget.”
I chuckled in spite of the circumstances. Marco shot me a smile, which I returned, then I frowned. It was time to start figuring out why the R.M.O. had tried to kill us. More important, I needed to know when the next attempt on our lives would be since they weren’t easily discouraged.
Chapter 7
The Long, Hot Night
M arco called into headquarters on his lapel phone. He got no answers as to why his backup had disappeared, but a squad car arrived quickly and took the R.M.O. assassin downtown. The APB on Lola had turned up nothing. And DNA results indicated the headless body was a Polish cleaning lady who took care of Lola’s apartment in exchange for future predictions. By the looks of the apartment, Lola and her cleaning lady had ripped each other off.
When Marco offered to give me a lift home, I made no attempt to decline. Granted, a niggling voice inside my head warned me that his insidious masculinity and good looks were a lethal combination. Therefore, I definitely should have returnedthe way I’d arrived, via public transportation. But I was dog-tired and didn’t want to fight a crowd. Besides, when you almost bite the bullet with someone, you want to talk about it over a couple of beers.
Marco took me back to my place in his old hydrogen-powered SUV. Because my back was sore from our scuffle outside Lola’s apartment, he took Lake Shore Drive. The land lanes on LSD were well paved, unlike the grid of neglected city streets. Just before we arrived in front of my two-flat, Marco received bad news. The backup he’d been counting on had gone missing under suspicious circumstances.
In the brooding silence, as cars whizzed by on the curved ribbons of pavement, I felt his sense of betrayal in my own gut. Not good. I could not afford to empathize with this man. I glanced at his profile—the strong, straight nose, the rugged jaw, the lush yet firm-set lips. My mouth almost watered.
Nope, there would be no beers tonight. We could commiserate about our brush with death another time. Right now I needed distance from him. When he pulled up in front of my two-flat and turned off his engine, I reached for the car door.
“Hey.” He grabbed my left arm. “I owe you a beer, remember? I can run to a store and come back.”
“No.” I was quick to answer and forced a bright smile. “No, it’s okay. I won’t hold you to that. I have to go.”
“But I want to.”
He still held my arm. His strong fingers felt like kindling catching fire on my skin. Amazed, I looked at his hand, then into his eyes, not even pretendingto be tough. “Detective, I know that when you face danger with someone, there is a sense of…closeness. But it’s a false sense of comfort. You don’t like me, remember? Besides, I’m bad luck. Someone wants to kill me and they almost took you down in the attempt. So let’s just call it a night.”
I whisked out of the car and shut the door before he could protest. I waved
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