“Sam and I are working on a case that’s... well, complicated and the client is currently in Palm Springs with hisgirlfriend, although she’s probably not his girlfriend anymore,” Jules started.
“Bottom line,” Sam cut in, “we’ve got two civilians, one male, one female, neither with any law enforcement training or military skills, who we believe are being targeted by some very nasty people. We need help getting them to safety—someplace they can hide until we arrive and figure out what-the-fuck.”
“That’s easy enough,” Rod said. “I can pick ’em up, make sure we’re not followed, bring ’em back here. I’m in a gated community—we inherited this house from Connie’s parents. It’s... cloyingly safe.”
“That would be so great,” Jules said. “But I need to be very clear, the people who are looking for them are armed and dangerous. They unloaded assault rifles in Sam’s and my direction just this morning.”
“Well, shit,” Rod said. “Won’t take much for me to be armed and dangerous, too.”
“I love this guy,” Sam said.
“It works a tad better for me,” Jules said, “if you can get them to safety covertly.”
“Less fun, but can do,” Rod said.
“Danger,” Hobbit said dramatically, “is my middle name. Well, actually it’s John, but?—”
“Kevin, whoa,” Jules said. “I’m having a conversation here with the formerhighlyskilledDEA agent.”
“Yeah, but I’m currently his pithy sidekick,” Hobbit said. “So, I’m in, too.”
“Rod, I’ll let you handle that,” Jules said as Sam’s phone rang.
“It’s Mick,” Sam announced.
“Whoops, the client’s on the phone, I’ll call you right back,” Jules said. And as he hung up his phone, they couldhear Hobbit, indignant, in the background: “Excuse me, I am not athatto behandled!”
“Meeting your high school friends explains... a lot,” Sam told Jules as he handed over his phone.
Jules laughed as he answered it and put it on speaker so Sam could hear that conversation, too. “Hello, Mick?”
Palm Springs, California
Emily was pushed by Milt into the back of a car being driven by a large, grim-faced stranger with a man-bun.
He was clearly on high alert, his gaze sweeping the deserted area around them, but there was no movement, no people, not even any other cars.
His stern silence was in direct contrast with the smaller man with the first aid kit who greeted them from the back seat. “Good, Emily, skooch over me so that I’m the middle, Mick close the door, Rod—we’re good,go.”
Rod started driving, but he met Emily’s eyes in the rearview mirror, giving her a quiet but absolute order—“Fasten that”—to use her seatbelt.
Meanwhile, the smiling man in the backseat with them was still talking as he used the flashlight on his phone to look at Milt’s arm. “My name is Kevin and I’ll be your paramedic this evening. I’m currently an ER nurse at Desert Hospital, and wow, Mick, you sure got lucky, as far as gunshot wounds go, that could’ve been much worse. Let’s just apply a bit more pressure to stop the bleeding—are you on blood thinners, by any chance?”
“Yeah, I am.”
Emily leaned forward to look over Kevin, who was now applying pressure to Milt’s wound. He was on a blood thinner?
He met her gaze. “A-fib,” he said. “That plus heart disease runs in the family. My mother’s side.”
Because, yes, his father had lived to be a million years old. “Just another thing you failed to tell me?” she said.
He actually looked surprised. “You... knew I took pills in the morning and at dinner, too.”
“I thought it was vitamins,” she said, and burst into tears.
“Oh, shit,” Milt said.
Oh, shitwas right. She’d held it together as they’d run from downtown, as far and as fast as they could, while Milt bled all over his shirt and his jeans.
