Craig could feel the man on the ground staring bullets at their backs as he hurried Stephanie away.
“Can we stop at my house?” she asked.
Tommy Ladreau heaved himself out of the car and stretched.
He’d been watching Stephanie Swift’s house for hours, and he was sure he wasn’t going to find out anything new by knocking on her door.
But those were his orders, so he ambled across the street and knocked.
When there was no answer, he looked back toward his partner.
Marv Strickland also got out of the car and joined him.
“Now what?”
“Let’s see if her car’s really there.”
They walked around the back of the house. The vehicle was still sitting where Stephanie had left it when she’d come home.
They exchanged glances, then crossed the enclosed patio and knocked on the side door. Still no response.
Marv pulled out his cell phone and called their boss.
“Stephanie Swift’s car is here, but she’s not answering her door. What do you want us to do?”
There was a long silence before Reynard answered.
Craig sighed. “We’re already pressing our luck. You can pick up some clothes at a discount department store outside of town.”
“It would be a lot more efficient for me to just take some stuff from my house.”
He thought about it, knowing that she’d be more comfortable with her own things. “If you’re quick,” he finally said.
They drove toward her house, and he slowed as he came to the cross street. The car where the two men had been watching the house was still there, but he couldn’t see anyone inside.
“Duck down,” he said to Stephanie.
She slid down in her seat as he turned the corner and drove by the car. It was empty, but as he drew abreast of her front door, it opened, and one of the men who had been in the vehicle stepped out. He saw Craig, and their eyes met.
Craig swore under his breath and stamped on the accelerator. The man shouted to his partner who also dashed out of the house. Both of them ran for their vehicle as Craig sped away.
Stephanie popped up in her seat, trying to see what was going on.
“Stay down,” he shouted, but he had the feeling the damage was already done.
He wove through the French Quarter, trying to avoid pedestrians. A truck pulled in front of them, blocking their way.
Craig leaned on the horn. Stephanie looked in back of them and dragged in a strangled breath. When he looked in the rearview mirror, he could see the car gaining on them. It pulled up behind them, and one of the bodyguards jumped out.
“Make sure your door is locked,” Craig shouted.
Stephanie pressed the button seconds before the man reached her side of the vehicle and yanked on the door handle.
Just then, the truck moved a couple of feet, giving Craig room to maneuver around it by putting his left wheels on the sidewalk.
“Turn down the alley,” Stephanie told him.
He took her advice, turning right and heading for the next street. They came out on Esplanade, and he turned right again. Although the bodyguards were no longer behind them, he kept up a circuitous route through the city, thankful that there was no tracking device on his rental.
