intimidation tool meant for their enemy to make them believe otherwise—like they'd executed the wrong man that hot desert evening? But they hadn't. She'd seen the video a million times.
She shook her head. There had to be more to this story. That was the million-dollar question. But who killed Nick? Why did they hire The Alliance to protect her and not Nick? That was the part that stuck in her craw. That was yet another piece to the puzzle that made no sense. A fast but meticulous perusal gave her nothing. Still, she downloaded whatever Nick had on his computer into her flash drive before sneaking out of his apartment and into the street.
She'd been on her own many times before. Now was no different.
Her hands shook as she hooked her backpack over her shoulders. She pulled the hijab she stored in her backpack and wrapped it around her head as a makeshift disguise as she wandered onto the street, uncertain where to go next. Should she work her way back to Jake's and enlist his help, even if the very idea went against her grain? Why would she trust someone with dubious motives when she'd learned long ago to rely on only herself?
Instead, she walked into a café a couple of blocks away and took a chair in back. She did her best thinking under pressure.
* * *
Jake tracked her signal to Nick's apartment. But before he could get there, she was on the move. Going to Nick's place seemed to be the logical conclusion, which meant the guys who were tracking her would figure that out as well.
The cab left him off about a block away, as traffic had slowed to a crawl. As he got closer, he spotted the police barricades and the crowd that had formed in the middle of the block.
The family itch, as he and his two siblings called it, wormed along his skin until he couldn't ignore it. Something had gone wrong. Very wrong. Did it happen again? Did they mow her down in the middle of a busy New York street? Was he careless enough that once again he'd lost the person he was supposed to protect?
If he blew another assignment, he'd have to cash it in and call it done. What good were his protection services if his assignments kept ending up dead? Maybe Petrovich had gotten the whole thing about his inferior skills correct after all.
Three police cars, lights flashing, hovered in front of the address. Failure chilled his chest until he wanted to scream. He'd made a tactical error once again. Trusting she'd be compliant had led to failure.
Jake brushed off the wash of guilt as he stood with the gawkers anxious for a hint of information, all while hoping she wasn't the reason the ambulance had arrived. But he had to know. He turned to one of his fellow spectators. "What's going on?" The words stuck in his throat.
"Some guy named Nick. They found him dead in one of the apartments."
Jake blew out a breath as he realized it wasn't Tessa. But as the name circled his brain, he couldn't help but know there was a connection. "Burglary?"
"Nope, they think it was suicide. But somebody mentioned something about a strange woman hanging around. The police are looking at the surveillance"—she pointed to the cameras perched atop the building—"and are talking to the people who saw her."
Oh, crap. Was Tessa some kind of double-agent hit woman? Speculation about the whys behind her visit to her friend made him once again question what he'd gotten himself into.
Maybe he'd been lucky she only circumvented the burglar alarm at his place, when she could very well have killed him in his sleep. He needed to back out of this assignment fast and hard.
He'd felt sorry for her yesterday and, more than likely, played right into her hands. The idea he was protecting an assassin crawled around inside him. Yeah, he'd done that before, and he wasn't about to do it again.
But if she were as good as the powers that be would lead him to believe, she wouldn't have gotten tripped up by cameras outside a building. A cold-hearted killer planned in advance for
She shook her head. There had to be more to this story. That was the million-dollar question. But who killed Nick? Why did they hire The Alliance to protect her and not Nick? That was the part that stuck in her craw. That was yet another piece to the puzzle that made no sense. A fast but meticulous perusal gave her nothing. Still, she downloaded whatever Nick had on his computer into her flash drive before sneaking out of his apartment and into the street.
She'd been on her own many times before. Now was no different.
Her hands shook as she hooked her backpack over her shoulders. She pulled the hijab she stored in her backpack and wrapped it around her head as a makeshift disguise as she wandered onto the street, uncertain where to go next. Should she work her way back to Jake's and enlist his help, even if the very idea went against her grain? Why would she trust someone with dubious motives when she'd learned long ago to rely on only herself?
Instead, she walked into a café a couple of blocks away and took a chair in back. She did her best thinking under pressure.
* * *
Jake tracked her signal to Nick's apartment. But before he could get there, she was on the move. Going to Nick's place seemed to be the logical conclusion, which meant the guys who were tracking her would figure that out as well.
The cab left him off about a block away, as traffic had slowed to a crawl. As he got closer, he spotted the police barricades and the crowd that had formed in the middle of the block.
The family itch, as he and his two siblings called it, wormed along his skin until he couldn't ignore it. Something had gone wrong. Very wrong. Did it happen again? Did they mow her down in the middle of a busy New York street? Was he careless enough that once again he'd lost the person he was supposed to protect?
If he blew another assignment, he'd have to cash it in and call it done. What good were his protection services if his assignments kept ending up dead? Maybe Petrovich had gotten the whole thing about his inferior skills correct after all.
Three police cars, lights flashing, hovered in front of the address. Failure chilled his chest until he wanted to scream. He'd made a tactical error once again. Trusting she'd be compliant had led to failure.
Jake brushed off the wash of guilt as he stood with the gawkers anxious for a hint of information, all while hoping she wasn't the reason the ambulance had arrived. But he had to know. He turned to one of his fellow spectators. "What's going on?" The words stuck in his throat.
"Some guy named Nick. They found him dead in one of the apartments."
Jake blew out a breath as he realized it wasn't Tessa. But as the name circled his brain, he couldn't help but know there was a connection. "Burglary?"
"Nope, they think it was suicide. But somebody mentioned something about a strange woman hanging around. The police are looking at the surveillance"—she pointed to the cameras perched atop the building—"and are talking to the people who saw her."
Oh, crap. Was Tessa some kind of double-agent hit woman? Speculation about the whys behind her visit to her friend made him once again question what he'd gotten himself into.
Maybe he'd been lucky she only circumvented the burglar alarm at his place, when she could very well have killed him in his sleep. He needed to back out of this assignment fast and hard.
He'd felt sorry for her yesterday and, more than likely, played right into her hands. The idea he was protecting an assassin crawled around inside him. Yeah, he'd done that before, and he wasn't about to do it again.
But if she were as good as the powers that be would lead him to believe, she wouldn't have gotten tripped up by cameras outside a building. A cold-hearted killer planned in advance for
Similar Books
