to choose? He had to match the dye job and contacts. “Harry Smith. Now if you’ll step across the way our car awaits.”
Jordon stumbled over a stray glass bottle. “We don’t go out the back way anymore.” She waved a hand in front of her nose. “Besides, it stinks out here.”
Gordon gave the little snot a push as she fell into the backseatof his rented limo, which was far too easy to land without much of a background check.
Jordan reached out and jerked Olivia’s arm to follow her into the car.
A lanky teen tripped out the club’s back door. “Hey, mister, where are you taking my date?”
Gordon lowered Olivia’s head and thrust her into the car next to Jordon, locking the door with a button’s click. Their giggles ended as they watched out the tinted window.
The boy kept walking toward them. As he scanned the license plate, Gordon knew options were limited.
He pulled his silenced Glock 17 and aimed true.
Jordan screamed. He turned back to the car, and Olivia’s wide eyes searched his face.
The young fool never knew what hit him.
But these two girls would if they didn’t cooperate.
Gordon opened the door, blocking any escape attempt with his body “Give me your purses. Now.”
The two birds turned over their shiny treasures with quivering hands.
Gordon slapped cuffs on both their wrists. All remained quiet as he settled into the driver’s side and pointed the black car into traffic. Before they reached the expressway he threw Jordan’s purse out the window. Clue number one would take federal agents weeks to trace, buying him ample time for step two.
But Olivia’s purse had a message to deliver.
His calling card of sorts.
Right up to the British embassy front door.
6
T here a reason you won’t talk about Ryan’s funeral?”
Clint Rollins leaned on the partition and watched his long-time best friend stiffen like a poker. No matter. Steven needed to talk, or he’d be back like he was when Angela left. Clint had given his partner over a month to process Ryan’s death his way. It was time.
“It took all I had to look Ryan’s parents in the eyes.” Steven kept clicking away at his keyboard. “Besides, what good does it do to rehash it? Doesn’t help.”
“Neither does stuffing it.”
Steven looked up at him. “You’re an old mother hen.”
“And a darn good-lookin’ one at that.” He pulled his desk chair near Steven’s and sat down. “I figure pushing you might backfire, but it’s better than watching you close in like you did five years ago.”
“Did I tell you about meeting Gracie Lang? She’ll be James’s teacher next year.”
“Is this a clever diversion, or are you going to shoot straight with me?”
Steven held up his hands. “I’ll talk about Ryan if it’ll stop your bleeding heart.”
He shrugged. “Depends on what you say.”
“I’m still wrestling with the guilt about being too late to save him. Your praying doesn’t work for me, partner. It didn’t save my marriage and it doesn’t change the fact that kids die. On my watch.”
“God’s still in control, Steven.” Clint lifted his eyebrow. “Notgonna sermonize this, but if you can’t pray my way, pray like you did when we first met. With the passion that keeps your backside in that chair when you’d rather be anywhere else.”
“Too hard to live like that. It’s for younger men.” Steven adjusted his favorite photo. One of only two on his desk. “Remember graduation day at Quantico? Ten years ago. Man, we’re getting old.”
“Speak for yourself. Old is a state of mind and muscle.” And his were both in prime shape. So said his beautiful red-haired wife, who still looked as good as that picture his partner liked so much.
“You, me, and Sara bunched together looked like we could take on the world.”
“We still do.”
Steven sniffed. “A little worse for wear now.”
“I remember that my Irish princess tried to get Angela to join us for that photo. Tried for years to get
Jordon stumbled over a stray glass bottle. “We don’t go out the back way anymore.” She waved a hand in front of her nose. “Besides, it stinks out here.”
Gordon gave the little snot a push as she fell into the backseatof his rented limo, which was far too easy to land without much of a background check.
Jordan reached out and jerked Olivia’s arm to follow her into the car.
A lanky teen tripped out the club’s back door. “Hey, mister, where are you taking my date?”
Gordon lowered Olivia’s head and thrust her into the car next to Jordon, locking the door with a button’s click. Their giggles ended as they watched out the tinted window.
The boy kept walking toward them. As he scanned the license plate, Gordon knew options were limited.
He pulled his silenced Glock 17 and aimed true.
Jordan screamed. He turned back to the car, and Olivia’s wide eyes searched his face.
The young fool never knew what hit him.
But these two girls would if they didn’t cooperate.
Gordon opened the door, blocking any escape attempt with his body “Give me your purses. Now.”
The two birds turned over their shiny treasures with quivering hands.
Gordon slapped cuffs on both their wrists. All remained quiet as he settled into the driver’s side and pointed the black car into traffic. Before they reached the expressway he threw Jordan’s purse out the window. Clue number one would take federal agents weeks to trace, buying him ample time for step two.
But Olivia’s purse had a message to deliver.
His calling card of sorts.
Right up to the British embassy front door.
6
T here a reason you won’t talk about Ryan’s funeral?”
Clint Rollins leaned on the partition and watched his long-time best friend stiffen like a poker. No matter. Steven needed to talk, or he’d be back like he was when Angela left. Clint had given his partner over a month to process Ryan’s death his way. It was time.
“It took all I had to look Ryan’s parents in the eyes.” Steven kept clicking away at his keyboard. “Besides, what good does it do to rehash it? Doesn’t help.”
“Neither does stuffing it.”
Steven looked up at him. “You’re an old mother hen.”
“And a darn good-lookin’ one at that.” He pulled his desk chair near Steven’s and sat down. “I figure pushing you might backfire, but it’s better than watching you close in like you did five years ago.”
“Did I tell you about meeting Gracie Lang? She’ll be James’s teacher next year.”
“Is this a clever diversion, or are you going to shoot straight with me?”
Steven held up his hands. “I’ll talk about Ryan if it’ll stop your bleeding heart.”
He shrugged. “Depends on what you say.”
“I’m still wrestling with the guilt about being too late to save him. Your praying doesn’t work for me, partner. It didn’t save my marriage and it doesn’t change the fact that kids die. On my watch.”
“God’s still in control, Steven.” Clint lifted his eyebrow. “Notgonna sermonize this, but if you can’t pray my way, pray like you did when we first met. With the passion that keeps your backside in that chair when you’d rather be anywhere else.”
“Too hard to live like that. It’s for younger men.” Steven adjusted his favorite photo. One of only two on his desk. “Remember graduation day at Quantico? Ten years ago. Man, we’re getting old.”
“Speak for yourself. Old is a state of mind and muscle.” And his were both in prime shape. So said his beautiful red-haired wife, who still looked as good as that picture his partner liked so much.
“You, me, and Sara bunched together looked like we could take on the world.”
“We still do.”
Steven sniffed. “A little worse for wear now.”
“I remember that my Irish princess tried to get Angela to join us for that photo. Tried for years to get
Similar Books
