Park. All right, I’ll be there,” she said tersely.
Lincoln Park? The gang-infested neighborhood? Who the hell would she be meeting there? He whipped open the records of her cell phone calls and tried to match the number to the time on the video. Nothing. No incoming calls that day at all. What the hell? He double-checked the date and time of the video, then returned to the cell phone log.
He replayed the video, listening to the amplitude of her voice, noting the way her eyes darted along the ceiling, as if she were looking for cameras.
Damn her. It was a ruse. But what was she up to? And then he understood—she was luring him out. This was her way of making contact with him. But now she needed him to protect her, and he was not even in the same country.
He picked up his phone and dialed Marcus.
“Ghostman.”
“I need your help.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s new?”
“It’s personal. Again.”
Marcus whistled. “Twice in one week. I’d say you have a problem, Ghost.”
“I know.”
“What is it?”
He sighed and rubbed the top of his closely shorn head.
“I need you to go to the northwest corner of Lincoln Park tonight and make sure nobody bothers El Demo’s daughter.”
“El Demo’s daughter, eh? If you’re asking for my help, you’d better own that she’s more than El Demo’s daughter to you.”
He blew his breath out through his teeth, but didn’t answer.
Marcus chuckled. “All right, I’m just giving you a hard time, Ghost. I’ll be there to keep an eye on your girl, but what’s the game?”
“No game. Well, that’s not true—it is a game. I think she’s hoping I’ll show up.”
“Ah. Smart girl. She’s got your number, hasn’t she?”
He didn’t answer.
“Mmm hmm,” Marcus said knowingly. “What happened with the stinging bee, is he onto it?”
“Yeah, he saw the kid and there’s no hiding the resemblance. He’s got my balls in a sling now. All the more reason not to be there tonight, I guess. I can count on you to handle it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Thanks. Listen, did you get any more on who called the Angel? From the inside, I mean?”
There was a silence on the other end that made his senses sharpen, a sense of foreboding creeping over him.
“I can’t be sure.”
“Who?” he demanded, raising his voice, his adrenals popping into gear and sending his body into hyper-drive.
When Marcus didn’t answer, he snapped, “Tell me, Marcus!”
“It might have been Beatty. But I can’t verify.”
Goosebumps stood up on his arms as a kind of white heat flooded his veins. “Mother fucker,” he swore softly. “Why would he put out a kill on El Demo from the outside, when he already has one on the inside?”
“I don’t know,” Marcus said. “Because he has something to hide? Something he wouldn’t want El Demo to tell another agent?”
He stood up and paced his hotel room. “Maybe. Or could it be he already knew about me and he doesn’t think I’d do it?”
“Would you?” Marcus asked.
Zac didn’t know the answer to that. Becca thought her father was dead already. And the man had sold state secrets, although they hadn’t caused much harm. It wasn’t like he leaked the identities of his fellow agents—he had turned over plans for an operation that had already been called off, which could mean he had been trying to minimize damage. But that could also mean he had some reason for doing it that he might want to tell another agent about…
“I don’t know, Marcus. A week ago I would have said yes. But now it’s more personal.” He blew out his breath with a hiss, still pacing the room. “I’m in deep, aren’t I?”
Marcus was silent. “Family comes first,” he said with uncharacteristic gruffness.
He remembered the reason Marcus worked an analyst job rather than in the field was because he had a wife and two girls. It had been the reason he’d trusted Marcus with the secret of his son. It was Marcus who’d known how to plant Zac
Lincoln Park? The gang-infested neighborhood? Who the hell would she be meeting there? He whipped open the records of her cell phone calls and tried to match the number to the time on the video. Nothing. No incoming calls that day at all. What the hell? He double-checked the date and time of the video, then returned to the cell phone log.
He replayed the video, listening to the amplitude of her voice, noting the way her eyes darted along the ceiling, as if she were looking for cameras.
Damn her. It was a ruse. But what was she up to? And then he understood—she was luring him out. This was her way of making contact with him. But now she needed him to protect her, and he was not even in the same country.
He picked up his phone and dialed Marcus.
“Ghostman.”
“I need your help.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s new?”
“It’s personal. Again.”
Marcus whistled. “Twice in one week. I’d say you have a problem, Ghost.”
“I know.”
“What is it?”
He sighed and rubbed the top of his closely shorn head.
“I need you to go to the northwest corner of Lincoln Park tonight and make sure nobody bothers El Demo’s daughter.”
“El Demo’s daughter, eh? If you’re asking for my help, you’d better own that she’s more than El Demo’s daughter to you.”
He blew his breath out through his teeth, but didn’t answer.
Marcus chuckled. “All right, I’m just giving you a hard time, Ghost. I’ll be there to keep an eye on your girl, but what’s the game?”
“No game. Well, that’s not true—it is a game. I think she’s hoping I’ll show up.”
“Ah. Smart girl. She’s got your number, hasn’t she?”
He didn’t answer.
“Mmm hmm,” Marcus said knowingly. “What happened with the stinging bee, is he onto it?”
“Yeah, he saw the kid and there’s no hiding the resemblance. He’s got my balls in a sling now. All the more reason not to be there tonight, I guess. I can count on you to handle it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Thanks. Listen, did you get any more on who called the Angel? From the inside, I mean?”
There was a silence on the other end that made his senses sharpen, a sense of foreboding creeping over him.
“I can’t be sure.”
“Who?” he demanded, raising his voice, his adrenals popping into gear and sending his body into hyper-drive.
When Marcus didn’t answer, he snapped, “Tell me, Marcus!”
“It might have been Beatty. But I can’t verify.”
Goosebumps stood up on his arms as a kind of white heat flooded his veins. “Mother fucker,” he swore softly. “Why would he put out a kill on El Demo from the outside, when he already has one on the inside?”
“I don’t know,” Marcus said. “Because he has something to hide? Something he wouldn’t want El Demo to tell another agent?”
He stood up and paced his hotel room. “Maybe. Or could it be he already knew about me and he doesn’t think I’d do it?”
“Would you?” Marcus asked.
Zac didn’t know the answer to that. Becca thought her father was dead already. And the man had sold state secrets, although they hadn’t caused much harm. It wasn’t like he leaked the identities of his fellow agents—he had turned over plans for an operation that had already been called off, which could mean he had been trying to minimize damage. But that could also mean he had some reason for doing it that he might want to tell another agent about…
“I don’t know, Marcus. A week ago I would have said yes. But now it’s more personal.” He blew out his breath with a hiss, still pacing the room. “I’m in deep, aren’t I?”
Marcus was silent. “Family comes first,” he said with uncharacteristic gruffness.
He remembered the reason Marcus worked an analyst job rather than in the field was because he had a wife and two girls. It had been the reason he’d trusted Marcus with the secret of his son. It was Marcus who’d known how to plant Zac
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