Muffled—but tense—words make the hair on the back of my neck prickle.
None of your business. You’re a civilian, remember?
The phone call from Ferrier’s office the other day—the one that had me contacting Trevor for intel—warned me the Chief of Station wasn’t happy with an ex-CIA officer starting up P.I. work in his territory.
My neighbor’s angry voice carries through the open patio door, but before I figure out what she’s saying, the entire wall shakes.
A man with a rough, local accent says something in Spanish I can’t make out, then adds, “Shut up! Or you will be sorry!”
“Let me go!” my neighbor cries.
“Quiet, bitch!” Something crashes—close to the balcony. Whoever’s in her apartment made it past the front door.
Shit. Ferrier’s warning be damned. She’s in trouble. The soda can tumbles from my hand, landing on the small table with a hollowplink. Staring between her balcony and my kitchen table—where my chest harness hangs from one of the chairs—a dozen scenarios race through my mind.
Until her choked cry clears them all away and training takes over.
I lunge for the strap. Precious seconds pass as I struggle to get my right arm through the damn thing.
The sound of a fist hitting flesh sends my heart rate spiking.
Move it. Now.
Nerve pain arcs across my shoulder as the harness settles into place. I race back out to the patio. This is a bad fucking idea. But I want the element of surprise. Wrapping my hands around the railing on my neighbor’s side of the divider, I grit my teeth, bracing for the pain.
I vault around the wall and land in a crouch on the concrete. Pure adrenaline and the sight in front me are the only things that keep me from collapsing in agony.
The man’s at least six-three, wearing a rumpled suit, complete with wingtip shoes. But then I zero in on his hand around the woman’s throat. She claws at his arm. “You’re hurting me!”
“Back away, shithead,” I growl and cock the hammer of my Glock. My neighbor’s brown eyes widen. As the man focuses on me, she screams at the top of her lungs.
For all of a second until he squeezes her neck so hard, he cuts off her air.
“Let the lady go or you’ll find out how hard it is to piss when you’re missing half your dick.”
“Listen,American,” he growls as he shoves my neighbor to the ground and advances on me, “you shoot, and you’ll spend the rest of your life rotting in jail.”
He’s not wrong. I may have a license for this gun, but that doesn’t mean the National Police won’t send my ass to prison and throw away the key for killing a Panamanian citizen. If the Chief of Station doesn’t murder me first.
With a shrug, I holster the weapon. “Have it your way. Less blood to clean up.”
The man rushes me, and I duck my shoulder to catch him in the solar plexus. But my right leg wobbles, and we fly back, landing next to a low coffee table with him on top of me. His fist connects with the side of my face. Pain sings along my jaw. The edges of my vision shimmer.
“Fuuuck,” I groan.
A flash of dark hair moves behind him. I roll away just as something shatters. Dirt scatters over the polished tile floor.
“Stupid bitch!” he roars. A cactus tumbles off his back, all spindly leaves and silvery barbs. Before I can grab his legs, he throws a lamp, catching the woman in the side of the head. She crumples to the ground with a tiny moan.
This is bullshit. I’d rather take my chances with Ferrier than let this fuckwit go free. Lucky for me, nerve damage stole most of the sensation from my right hand. Tightening my fingers around the cactus stalk, I push to my feet. “Hey, asshole.”
He turns, and I hit him square in the face with the plant. “My eyes!” he cries.
Dropping the cactus, I let loose with an uppercut to his chin. He staggers back, then lands on his ass.
Slamming one of my shitkickers down on his family jewels, I relish the way his face twists in pain. “You picked the wrong apartment to break into.” A swift kick to the head, and he’s out.
Panting, I turn in a circle, scanning the rest of the living room. Along the back of the couch, a plain, dark blue throw blanket is folded neatly. I make quick work of ripping three long strips from it, flip the guy onto his stomach, and hogtie him. He won’t be going anywhere for a while.
