Chapter 1
Sebastian Sutcliff
“Checkpoint Alpha, all clear.” Adjusting my comm unit to my ear, I load my little client’s playlist and swivel around to double check she’s buckled in her car seat.
Los Angeles isn’t my favorite city but the six-year-old makes it plum enjoyable. She sings to the first song at the top of her lungs as I laugh, easing onto the highway.
“Lawd, I’m comin’ home to you.” My southern drawl joins with her Russian accent.
The trip from her school to home takes about thirty minutes, during which, she never hesitates to amuse. It’s difficult to believe anyone would try to harm the tyke but I’ve witnessed the depths of her father’s depraved enemies.
The image of last Halloween and the bomb attached to her small frame, makes me refocus. No one’s hurting this little girl while I’m in charge. When traffic increases, I ease over many dotted lines and into the fastest lane.
“Mr. Sudsy, sing.” Giggling, Stacy claps her hands and I join in, keeping an eye open for trouble.
My spidey senses tingle as a dark sedan races toward my back bumper.Shit.He’s going to rear end us if I don’t move out of the way.
Following procedure, I alert my dispatcher. “Homebase. I may have a problem.”
“Good copy.” My handler’s next step will be to contact the local authorities but they’re unlikely to arrive in time to be of much help.
The child grins when I glance up into the mirror and wink. “Hang on, sugar pie.”
“Sure thing, honey-lamb.” Hands, the smartass in New York, chuckles at his clever repartee.
Normally, I’d find a snappy comeback but I’m sort of busy at the moment. Touching the brakes, I veer right, and sneak between a semi and a white repair van. Too late I realize my deadly mistake. The car in question comes alongside my SUV on the left. Tinted windows give no indication of how many are inside the black Mercedes, but clearly, they’re a threat.
Waiting for an opening in the slow lanes, I speak into my chest and grip the wheel. “How long before the next exit?”
“Five miles. Want to tell me what’s going on?” If the East Coast is following protocol, my dashcam is up on their monitor and they know I’m in deep shit.
“The car to my left came from behind like a bat out of hell. Now, it’s keeping pace.”
I turn up the music in the back so Stacy can’t hear. For a little kid, she’s way too perceptive but I’m not all that concerned. Patten Security chauffeurs are equipped with bulletproof SUV’s. How bad could it be? The minute I pose the question, I take it back. If you tempt the devil, he’ll come a-knockin’. On cue, a window opens and the tip of a rocket launcher points at the side of my head.
“You mother-fu…dger.” Somehow, I remember not to swear in front of the kid.
Cranking the steering wheel to the left, I slam into the Benz, and it bounces into the grassy meridian. As I swing back, an asshole in a red sports car thinks he has time to get by.
He was wrong.
I race forward but the lighter car careens off my back right side. Behind me, metal crunches, tires squeal, and rubber burns. Stacy shouts something in Russian and points outside her window where another vehicle pulls alongside.
“On it, sweetheart.” I swerve onto the shoulder, stop abruptly, and watch as the dark sedan is swept away by the bumper-to-bumper flow of cars.
“Status.” In New York, Slate, my boss, now has the comm.
“Just a sec.” I twist around, turn down the music, and check my precious cargo. “Are you scared, sweetie?”
The happy-go-lucky kid laughs and claps her hands. “That was fun, Mr. Sudsy. You said fudger. You’re silly.”
I chuckle at her moxie and lower my chin to speak. “Did you hear?”
“Copy that. Stand by. Sending you a new route home.” The dry tone doesn’t bother me none. He’s more than a boss, he’s a rare friend and I trust him with my life.
“Do me a favor, eh? Call the kid’s dad?” The drop off will be easier if I don’t have to explain what happened to an arms-dealer.
“On it.”
