“Where will you place it?”
“In an ideal situation, it would be somewhere inside the vehicle or in the trunk, but I’ll settle for anywhere I can get it.”
“I’m sure he’ll lock it.” She worries her lip with her teeth while looking out the windshield.
“I’m guessing it will be behind the rear or front bumper. If I placed it behind the grill, it would probably get too hot.”
“Do you do this kind of stuff often?” She seems curious.
“No.” A small snort leaves me. “I usually don’t waste time with subtlety.”
“You followed me home,” she says as if to prove I do.
“You were different.”
“Why?” she questions.
“I don’t know, but you being a woman had something to do with it. If I found a man standing outside my house, I would have killed him without a second thought, but I let you walk away that night, went in the house, and then waited for someone else to show up and try to blow my head off.”
“You underestimated me.” She grins, seeming very pleased with herself.
“I did, but I won’t make that mistake again.”
MAXINE
“There he is.” I point excitedly when I see the white sedan slow at the exit of the garage, waiting for the gate to lift.
Winger gently pushes my hand down to my lap and leaves his fingers over mine. There’s a moment when I think about pulling away, just because that’s what I would have done previously, but I leave the warmth of his palm over mine and think about how I feel or, more importantly, how I don’t feel. I don’t feel trapped. I don’t feel disgusted. I don’t feel ready to attack.
I miss Ian turning out of the garage because I’m too busy gawking at our hands. When Winger glides the car away from the curb, I look up. The Mercedes is several car lengths ahead, stopped in city traffic.
“He might suspect something’s weird if you turn right behind him,” I warn since he said he doesn’t do this often.
“I’m just making sure he’s heading in the right direction,” he tells me, keeping several cars back. When we slow to allow people to cross the street, Winger pulls his phone out of his pocket, brings it to his ear, and instructs, “Do not lose him.”
I look behind us, then to the left and right. “You had someone else here the entire time, and I didn’t even realize it.” I’m a little in awe.
“I wasn’t going to take any chances.”
“Damn, I should have cultivated a criminal enterprise years ago. Do you know how many times shit like this would have come in handy? When I killed Cloven, I was thinking how awesome it would have been to have help hoisting his big ass around.”
“Now you do.” He states it so plainly and makes it seem so simple that I allow myself to believe him.
As soon as he’s able, he hits the gas, no longer paying attention to Ian’s car, and pushes his way past the traffic until he’s turning down another street, leaving the Mercedes behind us. The park is only a few blocks away, but it takes us nearly fifteen minutes to get close and another few to find parking.
Winger doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, so I don’t either. There’s a definite air of anticipation in the cab as I find myself looking out all the windows to see if I can spot Ian. “What kind of car is following him?”
“A white Toyota,” Winger supplies quickly.
“My white Toyota?” A sense of betrayal washes over me. Not because someone else might be driving my car, but because it could get traced back to me.
“No, same make and model with a stolen plate.” He’s not even looking in my direction, distracted with checking out the mirrors.
I deflate quickly with a huff. I should have known better. He always seems to be three steps ahead of me. “Am I going to be bait?”
That makes his head snap in my direction. “Fuck no! I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
I lift my hands in surrender. “Okay, I just thought I might be able to get him to tell me if he hired stinky from the parking lot.”
