Wild Justice (Nadia Stafford 3)

"Jack . . ."

He turned his gaze back on me. "You really think I'd let this slide? Fuck, no. I was sure it was him? I'd put a bullet in his brain while he slept beside his wife. Wouldn't take the chance he'd call another hit first thing tomorrow. As it is . . ." Another shrug. "Just leaving a message."

"What?"

He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. I presumed they were the hitman's, though I hadn't seen him take them.

"Don't worry," he said. "Gonna wipe them down. Before I leave them."

"I'm not concerned about that. It's a house with four people in it, plus security, maybe a dog . . ."

"I won't kill the dog."

I gave him a look.

"Yeah. I know. Not easy. I can do it. Done worse. Brought tools. Not a problem."

There was little I could say to that. As pissed off as Jack was, he wouldn't take an unnecessary risk with me standing watch outside.

Jack got in and out without incident. Koss was in bed. Jack had done a little searching in Koss's office, too, but found nothing.

In the car, we both got quiet. Now that the rush of the last few hours had passed, I realized what had happened. Someone tried to kill me. And that assassination attempt killed my romantic evening with Jack.

I know the two things shouldn't weigh equally on the scale. Yet people have shot at me before. I'd like to say I'm used to it, but afterward, there's always that "holy fucking shit" moment when I realize I could have died. Still, it's not much different from avoiding a car accident. I could have died; I didn't; I'd be more careful now.

As for Jack, I'd spent the past year wanting to be with a guy who didn't seem the least bit interested. Then he gives me the most perfect date I could imagine. The dress, the hotel, the car, the restaurant, and then the park with that moment of complete, unbridled--and, yes, unexpected--passion.

The night should have ended back in our penthouse hotel suite, where I'd watch the sun come up from the king-size bed. Instead, I was watching it rise through the window of our tiny rental car, my dress dirty, my hair bedraggled, makeup smeared, even my shoes on the backseat because one of the heels was nearly broken off. We were looking for a hotel, any hotel, not to finish what we'd started, just to sleep. Shower off the filth of the night and collapse, probably into separate beds, as if it was any other hard night of work. I thought of that and I wanted to cry.

"Ther

e's a Holiday Inn," I said, pointing at the sign ahead.

Jack glanced over. It was indeed a Holiday Inn, and not even a particularly nice one. His lips tightened.

"Gotta be more up here," he said. "Better."

I sighed. "We haven't passed anything else since we left the suburbs. Let's just take it."

He glowered at the hotel, as if it had committed some unspeakable offense by existing. Then he turned in.

CHAPTER 38

I hovered by the elevators while Jack got the room. The lobby was, thankfully, empty. When I saw Jack coming, I hit the button, got on, and held it for him as I hid out of view.

He stepped on, shaking his head at me. "You look fine."

"No, I look chewed up and spit out."

"You look fine to me."

I smiled. "Thank you." The doors closed. "And thank you for tonight. It was memorable."

A low chuckle. "Yeah, that's one way to put it."

He stepped toward me tentatively, his gaze sharp, evaluating my reaction. When I smiled, he eased a little closer.

"Did I tell you I liked your dress?" he said. "I'm not good at that. Saying the right thing."