She refused to consider the alternative. Her baby was alive. She had to be.
When Alex met her on the sidewalk, he grabbed her arm. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no business saying anything to you.”
Knowing Alex was only trying to help and that he was looking out for her mental well-being, she mustered a smile. “It’s okay. But I’m starting to think that maybe you’re the one who’s been getting together with Dante.”
“Ask your cousin, I can be one of those deep-thinking kinda guys, too.”
“Right. When it comes to who the Cubs are trading, you get all kinds of deep-thinking.”
He grinned. “Now you really sound like Dante.” He looked to the street when a patrol car pulled along the curb. “There’s our warrant.”
Thank God. She’d rather focus on the Palmers, than continue carrying on their conversation about her obsession. But as they made their way through the family’s home, her mind kept drifting. To her baby girl, to Dante. Damn it. To her ‘devil’s own sell.’
*
Dante Russo sat in the idling Chevy Camaro, the air-conditioning blasting. Drumming his thumbs along the steering wheel, he kept his focus on Lucky’s Pawn Shop. His trainee, Lola, had gone inside to do a little recon more than twenty minutes ago and should have been out by now. Then again, she could have wound up bullshitting with the store’s owner. During the past few weeks he’d been working with her, he’d learned she didn’t have an off switch. The woman definitely knew how to fill the silence. Not that he minded her chatter. Her Japanese father had been a Hollywood stunt man, specializing in martial arts and action films, and her blonde bombshell mom an actress. Lola had plenty of interesting and amusing stories to tell, and with the boring case they’d been working, he’d had plenty of time to listen.
But it was nearing two in the afternoon, and they had several more stops to make before calling it a day. One, in particular, that needed to happen sooner rather than later. He glanced to his cell phone sitting in the Camaro’s center console cup holder. He’d already received two texts from Jessica about the damned vegetable garden and didn’t want another. Before resentment could take root, he spotted Lola finally exiting the pawn shop.
When the traffic lightened, she quickly crossed the busy street with the grace of a dancer and headed for his car. While he’d been irritated his boss and owner of CORE, Ian Scott, had saddled him with another new recruit, Lola had already proven she was more than a pretty face. She was smart, caught on easy and wasn’t afraid to take risks. The woman also had mad acting skills. She could change her voice, her appearance and posture and become another person. A talent that could come in handy with certain cases.
What concerned him though, was how she would handle herself in a deadly situation. At the firing range, she’d proven she knew how to shoot a gun and he’d been impressed with the way she’d hit the targets—dead on—every time. But she’d never fired a weapon outside of a range. She’d never had to chase down a suspect or been caught up in hand-to-hand combat. According to Ian, Lola’s father had taught her martial arts and, before her dad’s untimely death, she’d earned her black belt in Jujutsu. But could she apply her training in the field? When it came to a life or death situation, could she push her fears aside and kick some serious ass?
Jessica could. Not with the grace of a dancer, but with cheap, effective shots. Yeah, his wife might fight dirty, but as long as the job was done and she came out on the winning end, he saw no need for grace.
He glanced at the phone again, just as Lola reached the passenger door. Damn, Jessica needed to stay out of his head. Which was hard to do when she constantly sent him texts. When she was constantly on his mind.
“Well, that was interesting,” Lola said, slipping into the passenger seat and closing
Janwillem van de Wetering