All the Way Read Online Free PDF

arrived.
    Becoming an unwilling witness, she’d gone straight to the police station. After hours of questioning, she was released. Shaken and exhausted, she collapsed into a fitful sleep until the next morning. Local news reports were covering the story by noon. The Skye club in Charlotte was closed down while the police searched for forensic evidence. Sherman was called in for questioning the next day. Twenty-four hours later he was posing for the cameras, smiling while he commended the police on their attempts to dole out swift justice. At dawn the next morning, Payton was being stuffed into the back of an unmarked police car “for her own protection.”
    Her apartment was as she’d left it: giant duffel bag consuming the entryway, correspondence lying on the floor under the mail slot, living room needing a good dusting, no lights left on to welcome her home.
    She turned to Adriano. “Thank you.”
    â€œYou realize you can’t stay here.”
    She nodded. Where would she go?
    He watched her, dark eyes blazing with unused energy. It pulsated off his hard chest, barely constrained by the black Chicago City newspaper T-shirt. He didn’t want to go. And she didn’t want to be alone.
    â€œYou promised to tell me who these guys are who are chasing you,” he said.
    The way she calculated it, she had twenty minutes tops to get changed and get out of her apartment. If the hit men were headed this way, it would take them no longer than that to find her address and weave their way through the maze of one-way streets leading to her apartment complex. She didn’t have time to share her story. Nor did she want to.
    â€œI can listen while you change,” Adriano prompted. “Reporters have unlimited resources. You’d be surprised who I might know that could help you out of this jam.”
    A bump came from down the darkened hallway.
    â€œCat? Dog?” Adriano whispered, dragging her behind him. “Roommate?”
    â€œNo.”
    He stepped backward, pushing her toward the front door.
    â€œHold it right there.”
    Adriano’s hands went up.
    â€œYou one of Sherman’s men?” The body attached to the voice emerged from the shadows. Payton peered around Adriano’s broad chest and saw the barrel of a gun.
    â€œSherman?” Adriano questioned.
    â€œWho are you?”
    â€œAdriano Norwood, Chicago City newspaper.”
    â€œWhat are you doing here?”
    â€œWorking the story,” Adriano answered, but his voice was strained, not the smooth cadence she’d heard before. “Are you police?”
    â€œFBI,” the man answered.
    FBI. They’d stationed an officer at her apartment in case she showed up. She exhaled a long-held breath, releasing her tension with it. The FBI was expert at hiding witnesses and keeping them safe. Look at all the mobsters they’d protected over the years, offering them a new life in exchange for their testimony.
    â€œShow me your credentials,” Adriano said, “and I’ll show you mine.”
    â€œLike I need to see ’em with you busting out of that T-shirt.”
    â€œStill, I’d like to see yours,” Adriano pressed.
    Payton interrupted the battle of wills. “Would you stop being macho? Officer, I’m Payton Vaughn.”
    She stepped out from behind Adriano’s protective chest, but he grabbed her upper arm and yanked her back. She stumbled, smashing into his chest.
    â€œAgent, isn’t it?” Adriano asked the man.
    â€œHonest mistake,” the FBI man said with a kindly smile directed at Payton. “You’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”
    Payton disentangled herself from Adriano. “If you could give me a minute to change, I’ll be ready to go with you.”
    â€œNo need to change,” the agent said.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWhy were you hiding in the bedroom?” Adriano asked, moving his body to partially