“I doubt that,” Connor says. “Did you have him the whole time, Trick?”
“More or less,” Trick says. “In the lot, everyone was on the move, including me. I had to move fast when you baited him.”
“He got a shot off, C. Could’ve grazed you or ricocheted up and got you,” Anvil says.
I look at Connor, who only shrugs.
“Dennis was sweating and twitchy. I thought the gun might go off anytime,” I say. “Is that what you thought, Connor?”
C says nothing.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Felt like you had to draw his fire? Who says chivalry is dead?” Trick whispers, then he chuckles softly. “Zoe, there’s something I need to say to you.”
“Yes?”
“You were grace under fucking pressure. Did you say anything? Like even one word that whole time?”
“One or two,” I say, still feeling stunned.
“You’re a great dancer. Phenomenal,” Trick says. “But when you retire from that, for second careers, I’m thinking air traffic controller, hostage negotiator, CIA agent.”
“Agreed,” Anvil says. “If not for her calm, that would’ve gone sideways on the street, eighty-five percent odds.”
“Ninety-five,” Trick says.
Connor squeezes my hand in his.
“Frank didn’t think you were in Boston. Why?”
“I might have created a social media smoke screen. Digital can look live even when it’s not.”
“I’m so glad you were all here,” I say.
Connor leans over and kisses me. “Are you all right?” he asks.
“I am. Because of you. Thank you.”
