eyeglasses that threw him for a moment.
Somehow she looked even sexier in them. If he had to write words under the mental picture, he would need only three. Intelligent. Ambitious. Stubborn.
He guessed she was single, very single. Too busy for a boyfriend, too serious to fool around. But gorgeous. All she had to do was give him half a chance and he’d be around.
Deke ran a hand along his jaw, feeling the stubble. He’d shave later, after he caught some sleep. He was more tired than he was willing to admit. Going back to the crime scene hadn’t netted more information. He’d been in the way of the detectives and cops marking spent shells and measuring distances between the bodies at the site, and his colleagues kept him sidelined out of concern for his health.
He’d checked in with a medic. No lasting damage. Nothing to do but follow up with Kelly. She’d seemed okay. He guessed the cameraman and the other one hadn’t been hurt either.
Kelly was sharp.
It was interesting that she had spotted the woman in the second car—he had told Kelly the truth about not knowing anything concerning her. No one at the scene had a clue. The bodies were all suits. Deke had seen the woman, too, but only for a second and not clearly.
Kelly would make one hell of a good investigator. He could teach her what she didn’t already know, fast. The problem would be handling her. She was smart but maybe too headstrong to take direction.
He looked down again, feeling a little dizzy this time. Generally speaking, he liked to sleep closer to the ground.
But he hadn’t had a choice of suites.
Deke moved away from the window to check the feed from the bug hidden in the wall. Nothing. The bug could have been disabled, but his gut told him no one was in the suite next door. He unlocked his door and exited to check and make sure.
A stocky housekeeper in a hairnet wearing a striped uniform over pants came out of the elevator, pushing a steel cart piled high with folded linens and towels. He thought about asking for extra soap and decided not to be annoying.
The housekeeper stopped the cart at a door up the hall as Deke used a master keycard to enter the neighboring suite. He flipped the inside bolt and took a moment to survey the scene. The occupants were gone. A room service tray on the coffee table held plates and cutlery covered with congealed grease and a few crusts.
Hungry, hungry hoodlums. They’d eaten everything.
Empty suitcases lay open on the carpet, the linings slashed. Deke snapped on a rubber glove he took from an inside pocket and ran a hand inside the nearest suitcase. Vinyl and cardboard. Cheap construction. No contraband. No nothing.
Still, the crime lab two states away might find microscopic evidence. He’d put in a request for techs to clear the room and retrieve the bugs in the lamps and walls. The audio would be analyzed and voiceprints made, fingerprints run through the national database.
They might get a hit or two. But the brains behind this operation preferred mules with no police records who often didn’t know what they were transporting.
The bunch in this room seemed to have figured it out and helped themselves to the goods. The body count would go up when the operation’s enforcers caught up with them.
What a bust.
Deke had followed his orders to the letter, getting into the abandoned building by afternoon, doing surveillance on the parking lot pinpointed by the informant, watching for a major drop. Then everything went haywire—why, he still didn’t know. Not because of the news crew.
The thugs in fancy cars started shooting at each other, not at Kelly or the two people with her. With the news crew out of the way, the real excitement began. Three dead. He didn’t have what it took to feel sorry for criminals with homicidal inclinations, but like Kelly, he wondered about the unknown woman in the car, now missing. Still, it was all over but the paperwork, which Deke hated filling it out.
A knock on
Somehow she looked even sexier in them. If he had to write words under the mental picture, he would need only three. Intelligent. Ambitious. Stubborn.
He guessed she was single, very single. Too busy for a boyfriend, too serious to fool around. But gorgeous. All she had to do was give him half a chance and he’d be around.
Deke ran a hand along his jaw, feeling the stubble. He’d shave later, after he caught some sleep. He was more tired than he was willing to admit. Going back to the crime scene hadn’t netted more information. He’d been in the way of the detectives and cops marking spent shells and measuring distances between the bodies at the site, and his colleagues kept him sidelined out of concern for his health.
He’d checked in with a medic. No lasting damage. Nothing to do but follow up with Kelly. She’d seemed okay. He guessed the cameraman and the other one hadn’t been hurt either.
Kelly was sharp.
It was interesting that she had spotted the woman in the second car—he had told Kelly the truth about not knowing anything concerning her. No one at the scene had a clue. The bodies were all suits. Deke had seen the woman, too, but only for a second and not clearly.
Kelly would make one hell of a good investigator. He could teach her what she didn’t already know, fast. The problem would be handling her. She was smart but maybe too headstrong to take direction.
He looked down again, feeling a little dizzy this time. Generally speaking, he liked to sleep closer to the ground.
But he hadn’t had a choice of suites.
Deke moved away from the window to check the feed from the bug hidden in the wall. Nothing. The bug could have been disabled, but his gut told him no one was in the suite next door. He unlocked his door and exited to check and make sure.
A stocky housekeeper in a hairnet wearing a striped uniform over pants came out of the elevator, pushing a steel cart piled high with folded linens and towels. He thought about asking for extra soap and decided not to be annoying.
The housekeeper stopped the cart at a door up the hall as Deke used a master keycard to enter the neighboring suite. He flipped the inside bolt and took a moment to survey the scene. The occupants were gone. A room service tray on the coffee table held plates and cutlery covered with congealed grease and a few crusts.
Hungry, hungry hoodlums. They’d eaten everything.
Empty suitcases lay open on the carpet, the linings slashed. Deke snapped on a rubber glove he took from an inside pocket and ran a hand inside the nearest suitcase. Vinyl and cardboard. Cheap construction. No contraband. No nothing.
Still, the crime lab two states away might find microscopic evidence. He’d put in a request for techs to clear the room and retrieve the bugs in the lamps and walls. The audio would be analyzed and voiceprints made, fingerprints run through the national database.
They might get a hit or two. But the brains behind this operation preferred mules with no police records who often didn’t know what they were transporting.
The bunch in this room seemed to have figured it out and helped themselves to the goods. The body count would go up when the operation’s enforcers caught up with them.
What a bust.
Deke had followed his orders to the letter, getting into the abandoned building by afternoon, doing surveillance on the parking lot pinpointed by the informant, watching for a major drop. Then everything went haywire—why, he still didn’t know. Not because of the news crew.
The thugs in fancy cars started shooting at each other, not at Kelly or the two people with her. With the news crew out of the way, the real excitement began. Three dead. He didn’t have what it took to feel sorry for criminals with homicidal inclinations, but like Kelly, he wondered about the unknown woman in the car, now missing. Still, it was all over but the paperwork, which Deke hated filling it out.
A knock on
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