to prepare. Time to talk to her brother, Sam, and their attorney. Explaining why she had been in the bar would be easy. Explaining why she had been in the condo…She massaged her temple. If forced, she’d call in favors, play her ace in the hole. She’d get out of it, but her career would be in the crapper.
All for one night of fucking. A knot rose in her throat. She had to get out of here, get some air. Standing quickly, she knocked over her chair. “Crap.”
Everyone in the room stared.
“Are we done here? I’m damn tired.” She strode to the door and stopped, waiting for an answer from the AIC. Shit. She shot him a hard look over her shoulder.
The fed leaned back, tipping his chair on its back legs. She hoped he’d fall.
“Yeah. You can leave.” The sound of chairs scraping the floor filled the room. “One other thing, Commander.”
Olivia turned to look the man in the eyes. Was this it?
“Yes?”
“Damn fine job out there tonight.”
“Thank you,” she said, as if she cared what he thought.
Chapter Five
Olivia kept the Ducati under the speed limit. She wanted to open it up, take it to the 200 mph she knew the bike would do, and scream the whole time. Get all her anger and frustration out. She didn’t. No use tempting fate any further. She dodged a bullet tonight. Tomorrow would be different. Once they spoke with Rico it would be over.
She parked the Duc in the out building that served as the garage and slowly walked to the house. Inside she locked the kitchen door, leaning back against it. What have I done? Her legs refused to carry her any farther. She sank to the floor and drew her knees to her chest.
A tear tracked down her cheek. Angrily she brushed it away. She didn’t cry. Crying was for fools. Too shaken and tired to move, Olivia rested her head on the cabinet beside her, closed her eyes and thought of Danny.
The phone ringing jarred her. She didn’t get up. They could leave a message.
“Commander. You there?” Crenshaw’s voice said. She looked at her watch. A little after ten.
“The guy we picked up last night is gone. Walked out of the emergency room. Slipped out, vanished before the feds could get a guard on him.”
“Shit!” She struggled to her feet and walked stiffly to the phone.
“The feds are going crazy looking for him,” Crenshaw continued. “I don’t know how he could move with the injuries Defoe said he has.” A moment of silence. “Commander, pick up.”
She reached for the phone but paused as a sensation of uneasiness overcame her. Her skin crawled. Someone else was in the room. Before she could turn, a hand covered her mouth and pulled her head back.
“Don’t answer.”
She grabbed at the phone. The man dragged her away.
“It’s me, Rico,” he hissed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Olivia yanked his arm, twisting it down and away from her. He cried out. Remembering his injuries, she turned, punching him hard in the ribs. His breath escaped in a cough as he doubled over. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she rammed her knee into his chest and felt him go limp. She released her grip and he sank to the floor.
She spun around to get her gun and froze. The box she kept her Heckler & Koch .45 in lay open on the kitchen table…empty. She turned back to see Rico rise to his knees, leaning slightly forward, his left arm wrapped around his chest. His right hand pointed the H&K at her.
“Stay right there.” He attempted to stand.
“You son of a bitch.” The man responsible for all her trouble had broken into her home and had the nerve to aim her own gun at her. And he was ordering her around. Hell no. She took three quick strides, kicked his hand and sent the gun skittering across the floor, knocking him off balance. Before he could recover she delivered a hard blow to his chest with her boot. His head hit the floor with a resounding thud and he sprawled awkwardly, not moving. The H&K in hand, she inched closer and nudged him with her foot. He
All for one night of fucking. A knot rose in her throat. She had to get out of here, get some air. Standing quickly, she knocked over her chair. “Crap.”
Everyone in the room stared.
“Are we done here? I’m damn tired.” She strode to the door and stopped, waiting for an answer from the AIC. Shit. She shot him a hard look over her shoulder.
The fed leaned back, tipping his chair on its back legs. She hoped he’d fall.
“Yeah. You can leave.” The sound of chairs scraping the floor filled the room. “One other thing, Commander.”
Olivia turned to look the man in the eyes. Was this it?
“Yes?”
“Damn fine job out there tonight.”
“Thank you,” she said, as if she cared what he thought.
Chapter Five
Olivia kept the Ducati under the speed limit. She wanted to open it up, take it to the 200 mph she knew the bike would do, and scream the whole time. Get all her anger and frustration out. She didn’t. No use tempting fate any further. She dodged a bullet tonight. Tomorrow would be different. Once they spoke with Rico it would be over.
She parked the Duc in the out building that served as the garage and slowly walked to the house. Inside she locked the kitchen door, leaning back against it. What have I done? Her legs refused to carry her any farther. She sank to the floor and drew her knees to her chest.
A tear tracked down her cheek. Angrily she brushed it away. She didn’t cry. Crying was for fools. Too shaken and tired to move, Olivia rested her head on the cabinet beside her, closed her eyes and thought of Danny.
The phone ringing jarred her. She didn’t get up. They could leave a message.
“Commander. You there?” Crenshaw’s voice said. She looked at her watch. A little after ten.
“The guy we picked up last night is gone. Walked out of the emergency room. Slipped out, vanished before the feds could get a guard on him.”
“Shit!” She struggled to her feet and walked stiffly to the phone.
“The feds are going crazy looking for him,” Crenshaw continued. “I don’t know how he could move with the injuries Defoe said he has.” A moment of silence. “Commander, pick up.”
She reached for the phone but paused as a sensation of uneasiness overcame her. Her skin crawled. Someone else was in the room. Before she could turn, a hand covered her mouth and pulled her head back.
“Don’t answer.”
She grabbed at the phone. The man dragged her away.
“It’s me, Rico,” he hissed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Olivia yanked his arm, twisting it down and away from her. He cried out. Remembering his injuries, she turned, punching him hard in the ribs. His breath escaped in a cough as he doubled over. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she rammed her knee into his chest and felt him go limp. She released her grip and he sank to the floor.
She spun around to get her gun and froze. The box she kept her Heckler & Koch .45 in lay open on the kitchen table…empty. She turned back to see Rico rise to his knees, leaning slightly forward, his left arm wrapped around his chest. His right hand pointed the H&K at her.
“Stay right there.” He attempted to stand.
“You son of a bitch.” The man responsible for all her trouble had broken into her home and had the nerve to aim her own gun at her. And he was ordering her around. Hell no. She took three quick strides, kicked his hand and sent the gun skittering across the floor, knocking him off balance. Before he could recover she delivered a hard blow to his chest with her boot. His head hit the floor with a resounding thud and he sprawled awkwardly, not moving. The H&K in hand, she inched closer and nudged him with her foot. He
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