Drawn in Blood (Burbank and Parker 2)

“That sounds like heaven.” Diane stood up as well, ready to get back to the mounds of paperwork on her desk. “Stay in touch.”

“I will.”

Sloane had stopped outside the precinct to glance at her watch, and to make sure Xiao’s guy was still there.

He was. And her watch told her it was time to head over to HSS and her hand therapy appointment with Connie.

She chose to walk. He followed her all the way there.

But he was gone when she came out, and no one followed her to the garage where she’d parked her car.

Purposely, she took her time getting behind the wheel. She even slipped out of her jacket and tossed it into the backseat, giving herself an extra moment to scan the area. Nope. No shadow.

Interesting. He’d probably rushed off to fill in Xiao Long. And she’d know soon enough just how rattled the Dai Lo was.

The drive home was uneventful, although she did glance in her rearview mirror a few times just to make sure. When she was certain she was alone, she turned her thoughts to Derek, and how she was going to handle him.

He was going to be furious. Not only had she overstepped her bounds without consulting him but she’d also thrown herself right in front of the very moving train he’d warned her against. Professionally and personally, he was going to blast her. And telling him that she was fighting the odds, that she was trying to figure out who’d helped the Red Dragons break into her parents’ apartment while he was working to implicate her father’s closest friends—that wasn’t going to fly. What she’d done today, after questioning the names on her parents’ list, had been totally unrelated to her original task. Instead of hunting down Xiao’s helper, she’d spent the majority of the day intentionally baiting Xiao.

She steeled herself as she drove through the wooded back roads of Hunterdon County. Connie’s advice had been great—in theory. But Sloane knew that her relationship was about to take another whopping hit.

Turning up the secluded hill that led to her cottage, Sloane continued the steep climb until she was just one wide curve away from home. She spotted a row of blinking lights blocking the road and she slowed down. It was a line of sawhorses with blinkers closing off the rest of the road. Breaking to a stop, she gave an inward groan. Construction work. There’d obviously been some going on here today. And given the sparse population of the area, no one had bothered moving the barriers for the few vehicles that accessed this section of the hill each night.

Well, there was no point in bitching, silently or otherwise. At this point, all Sloane wanted to do was to get home and get this fight with Derek over with. Bearing that in mind, she shifted her car into park, put on her hazard lights, and got out. She headed over to the sawhorses to drag them away one at a time.

She’d just pulled the first sawhorse out of the way when she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye.

She whirled around just as the punk who’d been following her all day got in her face. Only this time, he was carrying a long switchblade.

He didn’t pause. He pivoted slightly, and his arm plunged downward in a sharp diagonal slash. The silver switchblade flashed in the night, and even though Sloane lurched backward instinctively, it managed to slice her right forearm. A burning pain shot through her.

In that fraction of an instant, she realized her assailant’s intent.

Xiao Long had ordered him to go for her injured hand.

Sloane’s Krav Maga training took over and she snapped into defensive mode. The blade was already on its return upward swing, this time aiming directly for her palm.

Blocking out the pain, Sloane acted. Simultaneously, she shot her feet back, arching forward and thrusting her left forearm down to block his ascending blow, breaking his momentum and halting his arm as it swung up toward her. Her left arm then wound around his blade-wielding hand, trapping it between her left shoulder and wrist.

The blade toppled from his grasp and clattered to the ground.

Sloane slammed her right elbow into his nose. He gave a hoarse shout of pain and swore in Fukienese. She ignored both. Still holding his arm immobilized, she grabbed the back of his neck with her right hand, jerking him down and smashing her knee into his groin.

He made an agonized sound. She released him, and he doubled over and staggered back. As he straightened, she drew her knee up to her chest and shot her leg straight out, connecting squarely with the center of his torso.

He flew backward from the impact, crashing to the concrete.

Sloane seized her opportunity. She rushed over, bent down, and snatched up the blade. Turning, she raced back to her car and jumped inside. She floored the gas, swerving around the miserable bastard as he half limped, half crawled toward the woods and escape. Never glancing back, she sp

ed the rest of the way home.

It was only when she was inside the garage, the car ignition turned off, and the garage door safely down that she became aware of the searing pain in her arm. Reflexively, she glanced down—and went rigid as she saw the stream of blood trickling down her arm to her hand, coating her palm and fingers in that sickly shade of red she remembered all too well.

For one paralyzed instant she just sat there, horrifying memories flashing through her mind, waves of nausea rolling over her.

Dizzy and lightheaded, she began to gag, then to retch uncontrollably. Drenched in sweat, she scrambled out of the car and reached for the nearby trash container.

She vomited until there was nothing left inside her.