Last Call Read Online Free PDF Page B

memories and they don’t like rats.”
    “I see your point, but I hate making deals with these kinds of conditions.”
    “It’s not negotiable. I gave him strict orders not to tell anyone—not even his uncle, who lives with him.”
    LAST CALL
    31
    The line was silent. She seemed to be considering it.“All right.
    The source isn’t important, as long as I’m able to vouch for the fact that the information is reliable.”
    “It’s totally reliable,” said Jack. He was speaking in his former-prosecutor voice again.
    “Then we understand each other.Talk to me.”
    Andie Henning was in a downward-facing dog pose, wearing only a black exercise leotard, struggling to get her breathing under control. It was her Saturday morning routine: yoga class to the soothing sound of breaking waves on Miami Beach.Watching the sun climb up above the Atlantic was totally invigorating, and if you could do it with your ankles up around your ears, you were among a privileged few.
    The class ended by 7:30 a.m., and even though it was early May, Andie could feel summer in the air. She pulled on sweatpants, more out of modesty than necessity, and then packed up her workout bag and slung it over her shoulder. Inside were the standard yoga props, her cell phone, and her Sig Sauer 9-millimeter pistol.
    Andie was in her ninth year with the FBI; she’d spent the first six in Seattle and the balance in the Miami field office. Hardly a lifelong dream of hers, the bureau had been more of a safe landing for a self-assured thrill seeker. At the training academy, she became only the twentieth woman in bureau history to make the Possible Club, a 98 percent male honorary fraternity for agents who shoot perfect scores on one of the toughest firearms courses in law enforcement. Her supervisor in Seattle saw her potential, and she didn’t disappoint him—at least not until personal reasons prompted her to put in for a transfer to Miami, about as far away from Seattle as she could get.
    “Nice look, babe,” said the jogger as he passed her on the sidewalk.
    32
    James Grippando
    Dumb-ass remarks were one thing she didn’t like about South Beach. At least they came in about nine different languages—part of the panoply of contradictions that made for the crude-cosmopolitan, chic-chauvinist ambience of Ocean Drive.
    Lincoln Road Mall was her destination, a pedestrian-only thoroughfare lined with eclectic shops, restaurants, bars, and galleries. Andie had a breakfast meeting with an acquaintance who fancied herself an expert on computer dating. With such a busy career,Andie had resigned herself to trying something new.At one of the many outdoor cafés on the mall she found Maria Cortina smoking a cigarette at a small table beneath the shade of a Cinzano umbrella. Maria was wearing a tight red dress and evening makeup that needed to be refreshed or removed. Either she hadn’t made it to bed at all last night or she hadn’t made it to her own bed.
    Maria borrowed a pen from the waiter and took notes on a napkin while slurping highly caffeinated coffee.
    “So, what was your last serious relationship?” Maria asked.
    “Not exactly my favorite subject,” said Andie. “I was engaged when I lived in Seattle. He slept with my sister.”
    “Ouch.” Maria took a drag from her cigarette.“Have you dated at all since coming to Miami?”
    “Some.”
    “Anyone you really liked?”
    “Is this personal dating history really important?”
    “Absolutely,” she said, smoke pouring out with her words.“I’m trying to get a feel for your target mate. Juicy details aren’t necessary. But if there’s a guy in your recent past who you thought had some promise, tell me about him.”
    Andie considered it.“I guess that would be Jack Swyteck.”
    “The former governor’s son?”
    “Yeah.We met while I was working a big kidnapping case out of central Florida, and we ended up going out a couple times after it wrapped up. Believe me, my expectations were