No One Heard Her Scream Read Online Free PDF

jotted some more notations into her casebook and walked around the building, still thinking about the murdered woman. When she rounded the corner at the front of the theater, she caught sight of her mystery man's Mercedes, but he wasn't in sight. For an instant, she felt—
    "Disappointed, Beck? Get over yourself. With my luck, I'll find him in one of the mug books back at headquarters, with priors as long as my arm." She heaved a sigh.
    Reaching into her jacket pocket, she retrieved her car keys and walked across the street. After unlocking her car door, she noticed movement near the corner of the Imperial. Becca recognized the man, even under his designer shades. But instead of crossing the street toward his expensive ride, the guy headed in the opposite way, as if he had somewhere else to be. Doubts crept into her mind. Maybe the Mercedes wasn't his.
    No way! The man definitely fit the ride.
    "So what are you up to, GQ?" She pursed her lips and thought for a moment, giving in to her impulse to follow. With enough people around, she could blend in and tail him from her side of the street. Mostly, Becca was too damned curious to let him walk away. She slipped on her sunglasses. On instinct, she felt for her Glock, lodged in a holster at the small of her back.
    Speaking to her weapon, Becca muttered, "Let's you and me take a stroll, shall we?"

CHAPTER2
    The man walked with purpose, hands in his pockets. A sexy swagger. If she'd known the name of his tailor, Becca would have sent a thank-you note. His suit accentuated every asset the man had. Her target moved with a certain power and grace she always associated with a Grade A male. Yet with his head lowered in boyish charm, his body was a contradiction. Navigating the streets with eyes looking down, he seemed to know where he was going. A man on a mission. His face stern, he looked preoccupied and deep in thought. And although people noticed him, they avoided eye contact, maybe sensing a trace of danger. Eye candy tinged with risk.
    Becca felt it, too. Gut instincts as a cop . . . and as a woman.
    The guy never turned her way. When he slowed and sat down at a small table in front of a sidewalk cafe, she ducked into a bookstore on her side of the street. With her nose in a book, Becca stood by a large window, maintaining surveillance. GQ placed his order. Before long, the waiter brought two hot beverages. He expected someone to join him.
    "This could be interesting," she muttered.
    Raising the book to cover her face, she peeked over the top of her sunglasses. In a simple gesture, her well-dressed target raised a hand and waved. His guest had arrived. Becca looked up and down the street, waiting to spot the newcomer to the scene. No one stood out. But he waved again. This time, with a faint smile on his face.
    Eyes wide, she almost dropped her book. What the hell? She glanced over her shoulder. No one stood behind. Is he waving at me?
    When she turned back, he had removed his sunglasses and stared at her, a definite invitation—or a challenge. Her face heated with embarrassment, but in no time, her blush dissolved into anger at being caught. Becca jammed the book back on the shelf and took a deep breath.
    "Don't let him get to you, Beck. And don't underestimate him again."
    Outside the bookstore, she stood on the curb, waiting for the traffic light to change. GQ hadn't moved. Sprawled at the small wrought-iron table for two, he had his arms crossed over his ample chest, looking plenty smug.
    With the breezy day, no sane person would have chosen a seat outside. So without a doubt, the mystery man and Becca would have their privacy. She gritted her teeth, determined not to give in to his not-so-subtle game of intimidation. Hiding behind her sunglasses, she glared at him as the light changed. He reminded her of an old tomcat about to play with his next meal.
    Becca took her time crossing the intersection. What would she say? After all, she'd been caught in the act of following