as I passed through the reception area and went outside. I speed-walked back toward the car, purse clutched tightly against me. It would be just my luck to get mugged at this point, although I had to admit the odds for that sort of thing at this time of day were pretty low.
But I made it back to the car without incident, and slid into my seat, then made a point of locking the door as soon as I could.
Paul had been sending a text on his phone when I entered the car. He continued with the message, tapping away furiously, then closed the phone and turned to me. “Did you get it?”
In answer I reached into my purse and held up the vial. “Piece of cake.”
“You are truly an amazing woman,” he said, and it didn’t sound as if he were teasing me.
I shook my head, but he continued, even as he turned the key in the ignition and started up the car, “No, really. You’ve been through things in the last twenty-four hours that would be enough to put anyone off, and yet you seem completely unfazed by it all.”
“Oh, I’m fazed,” I told him. “Trust me. But I couldn’t just walk away from this, could I?’
“Definitely not after that shootout with the agent,” he replied, with what looked like an actual grin pulling at his mouth. “Even so, I want you to know I appreciate all the help you’ve given me.”
Compliments had been few and far between as of late, and I really didn’t know how to respond to his praise. So I just lifted my shoulders and said, “So what now? Meet with Jeff and hand over the loot?”
“Something like that. He wants us to meet him.”
“Let me guess. Dodger Stadium.”
Paul laughed. “No, someplace a little less public this time. Apparently he has some contacts at a lab out in—” He squinted down at the phone, which was lying in his lap. “—Fontana?”
All the way back to where we’d started in Pomona, and then some. I hoped Paul had gotten unlimited mileage on the car. “Keep heading east on Santa Monica, then turn right on Fairfax. I guess we’ll have to take the 10 Freeway and hope for the best. Maybe the traffic hasn’t gotten too bad yet.”
“You make an excellent GPS,” he remarked, and pulled over into the right lane.
Maybe not the sort of praise most women would want, but I’d take it. My father always said I had a bump of direction. Might as well put it to good use. “More reliable than the one in your first rental car?”
“Infinitely.” He turned the car down Fairfax, eyes fixed on the traffic, thick even at barely two in the afternoon. “But I suppose I should be grateful for that malfunctioning GPS.”
“Oh?” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
Then he did glance away from the road, just for a second, but that second was enough. The hazel eyes met mine and shifted away. He said, “If the GPS hasn’t stopped working, I wouldn’t have met you.”
A rush of warmth moved through my midsection, and I found myself staring at the choked streets of Little Ethiopia passing by as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. “Oh, I don’t know. Otto might’ve still found a way to get me over to the Sheraton Universal.”
“Ah, Otto. Any advice from the world of the spirits?”
“Absolutely nothing. Dear Otto, it seems, has taken a powder.”
“Does he do that often?”
“Occasionally, but usually not as long as this.” Again I tried to tell myself that it was just Otto being difficult—something he excelled at—but I was beginning to wonder. He’d always made the spirit world sound as if it were a serene place, for the most part. Not a world where you could be detained or held captive or any of the other awful things that might happen to those who were still corporeal. Most likely my worries were for nothing, and I was being neglected because one of his other gigs was allowing Otto to hold forth, which would be much more interesting to a being with his sort of ego.
“And you’re worried.”
“A little. It’s
But I made it back to the car without incident, and slid into my seat, then made a point of locking the door as soon as I could.
Paul had been sending a text on his phone when I entered the car. He continued with the message, tapping away furiously, then closed the phone and turned to me. “Did you get it?”
In answer I reached into my purse and held up the vial. “Piece of cake.”
“You are truly an amazing woman,” he said, and it didn’t sound as if he were teasing me.
I shook my head, but he continued, even as he turned the key in the ignition and started up the car, “No, really. You’ve been through things in the last twenty-four hours that would be enough to put anyone off, and yet you seem completely unfazed by it all.”
“Oh, I’m fazed,” I told him. “Trust me. But I couldn’t just walk away from this, could I?’
“Definitely not after that shootout with the agent,” he replied, with what looked like an actual grin pulling at his mouth. “Even so, I want you to know I appreciate all the help you’ve given me.”
Compliments had been few and far between as of late, and I really didn’t know how to respond to his praise. So I just lifted my shoulders and said, “So what now? Meet with Jeff and hand over the loot?”
“Something like that. He wants us to meet him.”
“Let me guess. Dodger Stadium.”
Paul laughed. “No, someplace a little less public this time. Apparently he has some contacts at a lab out in—” He squinted down at the phone, which was lying in his lap. “—Fontana?”
All the way back to where we’d started in Pomona, and then some. I hoped Paul had gotten unlimited mileage on the car. “Keep heading east on Santa Monica, then turn right on Fairfax. I guess we’ll have to take the 10 Freeway and hope for the best. Maybe the traffic hasn’t gotten too bad yet.”
“You make an excellent GPS,” he remarked, and pulled over into the right lane.
Maybe not the sort of praise most women would want, but I’d take it. My father always said I had a bump of direction. Might as well put it to good use. “More reliable than the one in your first rental car?”
“Infinitely.” He turned the car down Fairfax, eyes fixed on the traffic, thick even at barely two in the afternoon. “But I suppose I should be grateful for that malfunctioning GPS.”
“Oh?” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
Then he did glance away from the road, just for a second, but that second was enough. The hazel eyes met mine and shifted away. He said, “If the GPS hasn’t stopped working, I wouldn’t have met you.”
A rush of warmth moved through my midsection, and I found myself staring at the choked streets of Little Ethiopia passing by as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. “Oh, I don’t know. Otto might’ve still found a way to get me over to the Sheraton Universal.”
“Ah, Otto. Any advice from the world of the spirits?”
“Absolutely nothing. Dear Otto, it seems, has taken a powder.”
“Does he do that often?”
“Occasionally, but usually not as long as this.” Again I tried to tell myself that it was just Otto being difficult—something he excelled at—but I was beginning to wonder. He’d always made the spirit world sound as if it were a serene place, for the most part. Not a world where you could be detained or held captive or any of the other awful things that might happen to those who were still corporeal. Most likely my worries were for nothing, and I was being neglected because one of his other gigs was allowing Otto to hold forth, which would be much more interesting to a being with his sort of ego.
“And you’re worried.”
“A little. It’s
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