“Okay.” Once again, he lifted his hands, palms out. “It’s just that I noticed you carry a Glock 19, which has the double trigger safety instead of the external lever, so?—”
“I might shoot you just for being a condescending asshole.”
His lips twitched, but he wisely shut his mouth.
For a couple of seconds, they simply stood there, staring at each other through the darkness. He watched her seesaw with indecision, and she watched him for any false move.
He didn’t make any.
When her shoulders finally relaxed, he figured it was time to put the cherry on top of the sundae. “It’ll be one hell of a feather in your cap if you’re the one to uncover the rat inside that joint operation. And since you’re in the business of putting bad guys behind bars, think how good it’ll feel to pull a reverse Uno card and keep an innocent manoutsideof them.”
He breathed a secret sigh of relief when she finally lowered both weapons. “You’re lucky my natural curiosity always gets the best of me.”
Warmth spread through his chest. He offered her a wide grin. “In my experience, there’s no such thing as luck.”
She didn’t disappoint. She immediately picked up on the quote fromA New Hope.But she didn’t come back with a quote of her own. Instead, she said, “Okay, Obi-Wan. So you’ve got me where you want me. Now what?”
“Now we ride out of here so I can introduce you to my brother.” He looked expectantly at the rusting truck.
Her gaze followed his. Skepticism colored her face. “There’s no way that thing’s engine works. I’ll be surprised if it evenhasan engine.”
He hadn’t been sure either. But he’d ducked his head under the front bumper to get a look at the truck’s condition in the seconds before she’d pushed her pistol into the back of his head. To his delight, instead of seeing rusting metal and frayed wires, he’d spied a recently replaced crankshaft and a brand-spanking-new battery.
He gently patted the hood. “Don’t be so sure. The Millennium Falcon wasn’t much to look at. But she made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs.”
Annoyed by his continued effort to make her smile, she shot him a dirty look.
Hey, that was better than shooting him in the chest. He’d take it.
After opening the passenger door—and wincing slightly when the rusty hinges groaned—he motioned for her to climb inside. She hesitated, just for a moment. Then she holstered her weapon, slipped his pistol into the pocket of her suit jacket, and slid easily onto the threadbare bench seat.
Had it not threatened to draw the tactical guys' attention, he would have whooped in victory. Instead, he quickly skirted the hood, climbed into the driver’s side, and pulled down the visor.
No keys.
He next tried the glove box, the ashtray, and the top of the dash and came up empty-handed each time.
“Guess we’re doing this the old-fashioned way,” he muttered as he popped off the plastic casing around the steering column.
Thumbing on the flashlight still taped around his forearm, he shone the beam onto the exposed wires before slipping his multitool from his pocket. When he flicked open the knife, Julia edged closer to the door, her hand automatically going for the weapon she’d stowed in her holster.
“Easy,” he told her, doing his best to concentrate on the scents of aged metal and spilled oil so hewouldn’tget distracted by the faint smell of her perfume. “I’ll give you my multitool after I finish.”
She didn’t say anything, but he heard the breath she released. He took that as his cue to proceed.
After finding the correct wires, he quickly stripped their insulation. True to his word, as soon as he was finished, he folded the knife back into the casing and handed it over.
A part of him thought she might wave him off. After all, what was a multitool against two pistols? But she didn’t hesitate to snatch the gadget from his hand and slip it into her jacket pocket.
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Then he sobered and said, “And now it’s time for some quid pro quo.”
Her expression hardened. “I should’ve known this deal was too good to be true.”
He refrained from thinking too long about how easy it would be to slide across that bench seat, take her in his arms, and prove she’d been a fool when she’d so easily dismissed the electric connection that sparked between them.
“You need to toss your phone.” When she balked at the idea, he pressed on. “I can’t have your colleagues tracking you before I show you my proof.”
Her jaw sawed back and forth in indecision.
