“Or maybe she sucks too,” he said.
“Hey, who wants a drink?” Riley asked.
“Me!” they all said.
27
9:21 p.m., Monday, October 28
Nick scanned the block in front of him. The townhouse he was watching sat in the middle of one of those neighborhoods that was designed like a small city. Usually it wasn’t easy to lurk in a vehicle in a place like this. Too much foot traffic. Too many nosy neighbors. But good fortune was on his side, planting him across the street in the parking lot of the neighborhood’s brewery.
The windows were cracked so he could enjoy the crisp autumn air…and so his SUV wouldn’t smell like the crappy burger and fries he’d snagged on his way from the security gig hours ago.
He was on his third episode of a murder podcast, and his legs were dying for a good stretch.
Surveillance was boring as hell. A lot of the job was boring as hell. The paperwork. The waiting. The watching.
But the parts like tracking down a corpse in an abandoned house or getting into a gunfight with a murderous politician standing in knee-deep water provided the sort of balance that he liked. He’d take the boring in exchange for a few adventures as long as he came out alive in the end and the bad guy got what he deserved.
Though now he was a little less enthusiastic about the gun fights and rescuing hostages from bomb-wielding serial killers than he once would have been.
He blamed Riley for that.
It was one thing for him to put himself in the line of fire. But with Riley involved in every dangerous caper, he found himself being more cautious.
His phone buzzed in the cupholder, and he picked it up.
Brian: Gym Rat just sealed his own fate and DM-ed Lady Assistant District Attorney a dick pic. I’m a goddamn hero.
Nick: I’ll get you a cape. Does this mean you can start on those background checks that came in this afternoon?
Brian: And give up this vigilante justice?
Nick: You can wear your cape while you do them.
Brian: Deal.
Josie: Keep it down. I’m lying in wait.
Nick jolted in his seat when he saw the selfie attached to Josie’s text. He must have also yelped because the Rottweiler sitting in the passenger seat of the car next to him shot him a suspicious look.
“Boof,” the dog said from its cracked window.
“Sorry, buddy. My cousin’s wife is dressed like a murder clown.”
The dog cocked his huge head.
“Didn’t your mother teach you not to talk to strangers?”
Nick blinked at the dog whose mouth hadn’t moved. “Uhhhh.”
The passenger door opened, and a grinning Riley climbed in. “Did you think you were hallucinating, or did you really think he was talking to you?”
“I knew it was you all along,” he lied.
“Liar.” She leaned across the console and gave him a kiss.
“This is a nice surprise. What are you doing here?” he asked, checking her out. She was beyond cute in a ball cap, leggings, and the other girlie staple of the season—a puffy vest.
