Z glanced up, desk phone receiver pressed to his ear. Surprise had his eyebrows jutting into his forehead. He pointed to a guest chair.
“Why would local law enforcement tiptoe around a serial killer?” Z barked. “Wasn’t that the third death in—what—less than two fucking months? Which Special Agent? She’s too slow. No, he’s too brash. The public needs to know ASAP. They’re calling him the what?” Z listened, then exhaled a growl. “Handle it.”
He hung up, shifted his attention to her. “Britain, what are you doing here?”
She fished her burner out of her handbag, dropped it on his metal desk, the clang echoing in his shoebox-sized office.
“I quit,” she said.
His eyebrows pinched together. “What are you talking about?”
“Joaquin Dillinger showed up at my assignment.”
“What?”
“My targets were already there when I arrived. Then, the door opens, a fourth enters?—”
“And it’s him?”
The agitation she’d forced down leapt to the surface and she started pacing.
“Tell me you didn’t shoot him.”
Brit glared at him. “Theonlyreason I didn’t take him out was because I met him at Thanksgiving. If I hadn’t…” Her stomach roiled, and she rubbed her midsection. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”
Z pulled a small trash can from beneath his desk and set it nearby. Strangely, that comforted her. He’d done that for her so many times as a child. After her mom left, she’d struggled with terrible tummy aches.
“Where is Joaquin?” he asked, pulling her back to the moment.
“No idea.”
“Did he make you?”
“I’m not sure,” she replied.
Z jumped on his computer, his fingers flying over the keys. Several clicks later, and he mumbled, “He’s off the grid.” He lifted the receiver on his desk phone and made a call. “Where’s Dillinger?” He cradled the phone between his ear and his shoulder, then continued typing. “I’m here.” More silence, then he hung up.
“Looks like he set up the meeting, but no one knew that,” Z explained.
“So, he’s undercover?” she blurted.
“You know I can’t?—”
“We’re way past the need-to-know,” Brit pushed back.
“He is, but he’s so far off the grid, his behavior is considered reckless.”
Brit snickered. “That’s ironic, coming from you.”
He held out her burner. “C’mon, Britain, think about it for?—”
“—a few days. I knew you’d say that.” She paused. “I could havekilledhim.”
“It was a one-off.”
She shook her head. “I love you, Daddy, and I love working for you, love my job more than I can say, but I almost took out one ofourguys.”
“He’s a rebel, and he knows the risks.”
