spent much of the drive sneaking peeks at her laptop.
“Don’t you have work to do?” Evie had asked him.
“I signed off on the German deal today, and right now, I’m focusing my energies on these bombings.”
Evie no longer bothered arguing with him. It was like arguing with a brick. Or herself, she realized with a smile.
Jack drove toward the library where her car was parked, but the police had blocked off the street. Hundreds of men, women, and children holding tiny flickering candles marched down the street in front of the L.A. Public Library where the third bombing had occurred, singing a song about hearts holding on until the end of their troubles.
She breathed in the song, let it seep through her body. That’s why she was here, to end the troubles. When they reached a roadblock, Jack turned into an alley.
“You can drop me off here,” Evie said. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“You can’t just take off in the dark in the middle of downtown Los Angeles.”
“Jack, what part of federal agent do you not understand?” She unlocked the door. “Anyone who looks crossways at me should be worried.”
“True.” He pulled into a loading dock, which was empty at this time of night. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
She hopped out. “You really are a control freak.”
“Also true.” He spoke with an unabashed authority that grated against her spine.
“Do you ever lose an argument?” she asked with a snap.
“Only when I choose to,” he said with a flash of white teeth.
She raised her hands but fought back the urge to strangle him. Jack Elliott was cut from the same cloth as her boss, Parker Lord. He was the self-proclaimed master of his universe, which right now intersected with hers, and she was grateful. Not only had he made the art connection, he offered a sizable reward and expedited her meet and greet with Brother North.
The night was cool, and she wrapped her denim jacket tighter about her as they wove through the concrete maze of the downtown financial district, a graveyard at this time of night. No business suits or messengers on bikes. No hot dog vendors offering a quick lunch. No—
Crack ! Something hot whizzed past her right shoulder. A chunk of the squat office building behind her shivered and exploded. She ducked and lunged at Jack just as he threw himself at her, curving his body around hers.
They slammed into the pavement. Her cheek ground into dirt and rock. Slivers of concrete and wood rained down on them. Jack’s chest pressed against her back, his heart booming as fast and hard as hers.
When the dust cleared, she pushed herself to her elbows, simultaneously pushing him off.
“What was that?” Jack asked.
“A bullet.” She scrambled to her feet and hauled out her Glock.
Jack bolted to her side. “What are you doing?”
“Going after the guy holding the gun.”
He grabbed her arm. “You’re running after someone who shot at us?”
“Yes, Jack. That’s what I do. Chase bad guys.” She pried his fingers from her arm and took off down the alley, calling over her shoulder, “Call Ricci. Tell him what happened and get me some backup.”
She sprinted down the alley and onto the street and swiveled her head. Key was finding someone moving fast. There. Big man. Brown bomber jacket.
“You’re mine, buddy.”
Evie sprinted down Olympic, her cowboy boots pounding. Bomber Jacket took off at a dead run. He hopped over a concrete bench and ducked into a small side street. She followed. The pavement grew uneven; the skyscrapers gave way to gray block buildings and deserted storefronts.
Footsteps clacked behind her. Her backup? The gunman’s buddy? She shot a glance over her shoulder and cursed. “I told you to call Ricci.”
Jack slipped his cell in his pocket. “Done.”
“Dammit, Jack, I don’t have time to look out for you.”
“Then don’t.”
She bit her bottom lip to keep from unleashing on him. Nothing could hurt this guy because he was
“Don’t you have work to do?” Evie had asked him.
“I signed off on the German deal today, and right now, I’m focusing my energies on these bombings.”
Evie no longer bothered arguing with him. It was like arguing with a brick. Or herself, she realized with a smile.
Jack drove toward the library where her car was parked, but the police had blocked off the street. Hundreds of men, women, and children holding tiny flickering candles marched down the street in front of the L.A. Public Library where the third bombing had occurred, singing a song about hearts holding on until the end of their troubles.
She breathed in the song, let it seep through her body. That’s why she was here, to end the troubles. When they reached a roadblock, Jack turned into an alley.
“You can drop me off here,” Evie said. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“You can’t just take off in the dark in the middle of downtown Los Angeles.”
“Jack, what part of federal agent do you not understand?” She unlocked the door. “Anyone who looks crossways at me should be worried.”
“True.” He pulled into a loading dock, which was empty at this time of night. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
She hopped out. “You really are a control freak.”
“Also true.” He spoke with an unabashed authority that grated against her spine.
“Do you ever lose an argument?” she asked with a snap.
“Only when I choose to,” he said with a flash of white teeth.
She raised her hands but fought back the urge to strangle him. Jack Elliott was cut from the same cloth as her boss, Parker Lord. He was the self-proclaimed master of his universe, which right now intersected with hers, and she was grateful. Not only had he made the art connection, he offered a sizable reward and expedited her meet and greet with Brother North.
The night was cool, and she wrapped her denim jacket tighter about her as they wove through the concrete maze of the downtown financial district, a graveyard at this time of night. No business suits or messengers on bikes. No hot dog vendors offering a quick lunch. No—
Crack ! Something hot whizzed past her right shoulder. A chunk of the squat office building behind her shivered and exploded. She ducked and lunged at Jack just as he threw himself at her, curving his body around hers.
They slammed into the pavement. Her cheek ground into dirt and rock. Slivers of concrete and wood rained down on them. Jack’s chest pressed against her back, his heart booming as fast and hard as hers.
When the dust cleared, she pushed herself to her elbows, simultaneously pushing him off.
“What was that?” Jack asked.
“A bullet.” She scrambled to her feet and hauled out her Glock.
Jack bolted to her side. “What are you doing?”
“Going after the guy holding the gun.”
He grabbed her arm. “You’re running after someone who shot at us?”
“Yes, Jack. That’s what I do. Chase bad guys.” She pried his fingers from her arm and took off down the alley, calling over her shoulder, “Call Ricci. Tell him what happened and get me some backup.”
She sprinted down the alley and onto the street and swiveled her head. Key was finding someone moving fast. There. Big man. Brown bomber jacket.
“You’re mine, buddy.”
Evie sprinted down Olympic, her cowboy boots pounding. Bomber Jacket took off at a dead run. He hopped over a concrete bench and ducked into a small side street. She followed. The pavement grew uneven; the skyscrapers gave way to gray block buildings and deserted storefronts.
Footsteps clacked behind her. Her backup? The gunman’s buddy? She shot a glance over her shoulder and cursed. “I told you to call Ricci.”
Jack slipped his cell in his pocket. “Done.”
“Dammit, Jack, I don’t have time to look out for you.”
“Then don’t.”
She bit her bottom lip to keep from unleashing on him. Nothing could hurt this guy because he was
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