Casper into the marine pension system and it was Marcus who had dressed in a uniform and delivered the fake death notice to Becca. In exchange, he’d made sure Marcus had become rich along with him, as field agents often received the benefit of seized currency or goods that couldn’t be traced. It was unofficially considered part of their compensation for being non-existent and risking their lives on a daily basis for their country.
He looked at his watch. “It’s 9 p.m. your time. Get there early, okay?”
Marcus snorted. “I think I can handle it.”
“I know. Thanks.”
Chapter Four
Becca drove around Lincoln Park in her car, the windows and doors locked tight, her heart slamming in her chest. Not unlike her peaceful Golden Hill neighborhood, people were out on the street, lounging on porches and steps, walking the sidewalks. Except here, she could feel a menacing energy from them. No, maybe she was just making that up. Poor didn’t translate to mean. But they were all watching her because she was out of place. She probably looked suspicious driving so slowly, looking out her windows like a nervous old lady. She pulled her inhaler out of her purse and took a puff, fortification against the closing walls of her lungs.
Look confident. She pulled over, finding a spot to parallel park on the street and inched the car back and forth until it fit, feeling a dozen eyes watching her progress. She got out and slammed the door too loudly, trying not to make a show of setting the alarm. Crossing the street, she walked quickly up the block toward the park.
Fuck. Was she being followed? But wait, it could be Zac. Except no, two men were walking a half a block behind her, appearing to be looking for trouble. Quickening her pace, she walked to the northwest corner of the park, looking around for a bench to sit and wait. There was nothing, and as she stood there, she realized she probably looked like she was waiting to make a drug deal or something. Jesus, what had she been thinking? This had been a stupid idea. There was no guarantee Zac even heard her faked phone conversation, much less that he would show up. She looked around, scanning all the people for the right height and general appearance. No match.
The two men who had been behind her arrived and stood in her personal space, giving her a bold once-over. “What’s a pretty lady like you doing on a night like this?” one of them drawled. The other snickered, and picked the strap of her purse off her shoulder, sliding it down her arm.
“Hey,” she protested, but her voice was barely a squeak, her breath leaving her as her lungs constricted. She looked around wildly—for Zac—for anyone who might help her. Nobody even seemed to notice. She couldn’t let them have her purse; they’d get everything—her wallet, her phone, her keys, and her car—and then she’d be completely screwed. She yanked back on the purse and the man backhanded her across the mouth. She lost the purse, stumbling back. She expected them to run, now that they had what they wanted, but they didn’t. Instead, the one who didn’t have her purse lunged forward and grabbed her arm, yanking her up against him. “Where you going so fast?” he demanded, running the backs of his fingers down her cheek, then snatching her around the neck.
She was seeing stars, not so much from being choked, but because her own traitorous lungs had closed long before the fingers tightened around her neck. Another man appeared, a ball cap pulled sideways on his head, silver chains around his neck. He pulled a gun and the vision left her eyes completely for a moment, but a deep voice said, “Let her go and give me the bag, or I blow both your brains out.”
The fingers crushing her throat released and she stumbled to keep her footing.
“Don’t turn around. Just walk away and don’t look back. Don’t look motherfucking back, I said!”
As her vision cleared, she saw the two would-be attackers
He looked at his watch. “It’s 9 p.m. your time. Get there early, okay?”
Marcus snorted. “I think I can handle it.”
“I know. Thanks.”
Chapter Four
Becca drove around Lincoln Park in her car, the windows and doors locked tight, her heart slamming in her chest. Not unlike her peaceful Golden Hill neighborhood, people were out on the street, lounging on porches and steps, walking the sidewalks. Except here, she could feel a menacing energy from them. No, maybe she was just making that up. Poor didn’t translate to mean. But they were all watching her because she was out of place. She probably looked suspicious driving so slowly, looking out her windows like a nervous old lady. She pulled her inhaler out of her purse and took a puff, fortification against the closing walls of her lungs.
Look confident. She pulled over, finding a spot to parallel park on the street and inched the car back and forth until it fit, feeling a dozen eyes watching her progress. She got out and slammed the door too loudly, trying not to make a show of setting the alarm. Crossing the street, she walked quickly up the block toward the park.
Fuck. Was she being followed? But wait, it could be Zac. Except no, two men were walking a half a block behind her, appearing to be looking for trouble. Quickening her pace, she walked to the northwest corner of the park, looking around for a bench to sit and wait. There was nothing, and as she stood there, she realized she probably looked like she was waiting to make a drug deal or something. Jesus, what had she been thinking? This had been a stupid idea. There was no guarantee Zac even heard her faked phone conversation, much less that he would show up. She looked around, scanning all the people for the right height and general appearance. No match.
The two men who had been behind her arrived and stood in her personal space, giving her a bold once-over. “What’s a pretty lady like you doing on a night like this?” one of them drawled. The other snickered, and picked the strap of her purse off her shoulder, sliding it down her arm.
“Hey,” she protested, but her voice was barely a squeak, her breath leaving her as her lungs constricted. She looked around wildly—for Zac—for anyone who might help her. Nobody even seemed to notice. She couldn’t let them have her purse; they’d get everything—her wallet, her phone, her keys, and her car—and then she’d be completely screwed. She yanked back on the purse and the man backhanded her across the mouth. She lost the purse, stumbling back. She expected them to run, now that they had what they wanted, but they didn’t. Instead, the one who didn’t have her purse lunged forward and grabbed her arm, yanking her up against him. “Where you going so fast?” he demanded, running the backs of his fingers down her cheek, then snatching her around the neck.
She was seeing stars, not so much from being choked, but because her own traitorous lungs had closed long before the fingers tightened around her neck. Another man appeared, a ball cap pulled sideways on his head, silver chains around his neck. He pulled a gun and the vision left her eyes completely for a moment, but a deep voice said, “Let her go and give me the bag, or I blow both your brains out.”
The fingers crushing her throat released and she stumbled to keep her footing.
“Don’t turn around. Just walk away and don’t look back. Don’t look motherfucking back, I said!”
As her vision cleared, she saw the two would-be attackers
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