Identity Unknown (A Parker & Coe, Love and Bullets Thriller Book 1) by Alana Matthews
Authors: Alana Matthews
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isn't after any of us. It's actually the other way around."
A look of complete bafflement washed over Cody's face. "You're trying to catch a hit woman? A freaking hit woman?"
"That's what it boils down to, yeah."
"I told you you wouldn't believe it," Parker said, as he gestured to the screens. "What's in the newspaper clipping? What did I miss?"
I caught him up on the Ukrainian prostitution ring and Anastasia's supposed death in a motel fire.
He said, "What do you bet that was her first hit. And she was so desperate to get out of there, she didn't care who she had to kill to do it." He thought for a moment. "It also puts a whole new spin on the Papanov assassination. If he was part of the ring, killing him may have been personal instead of business."
"But why wait so long?" I asked.
"We're talking organized crime here. The more distance she puts between her so-called death and Papanov's, the less chance the Ukrainians will figure it out."
"Especially if she can pin it on someone like me," I said.
Cody's bafflement deepened. "Could somebody please rewind and tell me what's going on?"
Parker shook his head. "The less you know, the better. What we need from you right now is the address of that condo Anastasia bought."
Cody looked at Parker, then at me. "Why do I get the feeling I'm never gonna get that date?"
TWENTY-SIX
It was almost nine a.m. when we climbed into Parker's rental car.
As he started the engine, he handed me a cell phone. "I bought a couple of cheap burners. My number's stored in the memory, in case we get separated again."
I nodded and tucked it into the pocket of my new jeans. In addition to the burners, Parker's plastic bags had been full of clothes from a local thrift store—jeans, T-shirts, jackets, baseball caps, sunglasses and, for me, a worn pair of running shoes. The fit wasn't perfect, but it was close enough, and should Taggart and his friends happen along, they might be thrown off by the change of attire.
At least temporarily.
Of course, we had no reason to believe they'd find us before we left town. Not with Taggart's tracker lying at the bottom of the Dumpster. But Parker told me it was better to be safe than sorry, and I couldn't disagree.
That sentiment only carried so far, however. Before we left Cody's place, Parker had a change of heart and tried to convince me to stay and let him go after Emily alone.
But I refused—with a big hell no.
I wanted to be there when he slapped the cuffs on her.
I wanted to see the look on her face when she realized the world she had constructed to hide her crimes—and make me her fall guy—had come crashing down around her.
Was that foolish of me?
I don't think so, but I'll let you be the judge.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The drive from Hunter City to Houston is a long one, through small towns and seemingly endless stretches of empty landscape. We were nearly an hour into it and rolling toward a town called Cedardale, when the rental car's engine suddenly cut out and Parker swore under his breath.
"What happened?" I asked.
"I'll tell you when I know," he muttered as he wrestled with a steering wheel that had lost most of its power and pulled to the side of the highway.
A moment later he had the hood up and was poking around inside. I got out and stood next to him, and while I don't consider myself a clueless female, I might as well have been staring at the engine of a space shuttle.
"I can't tell what's what," I said.
Parker smiled. "I used to work on cars with my dad, but technology has ruined all that. These days, you need an advanced degree in engineering just to…" His eyes narrowed as he spotted something amiss. "Uh-oh."
"What? What's wrong?"
He leaned forward for a closer look. "The car's been rigged with a kill switch."
That didn't sound good. "What's a kill switch?"
"A mechanism that rental agencies install in case one of their cars gets stolen. They can cut power remotely and stop the thief in his tracks."
"And you think
A look of complete bafflement washed over Cody's face. "You're trying to catch a hit woman? A freaking hit woman?"
"That's what it boils down to, yeah."
"I told you you wouldn't believe it," Parker said, as he gestured to the screens. "What's in the newspaper clipping? What did I miss?"
I caught him up on the Ukrainian prostitution ring and Anastasia's supposed death in a motel fire.
He said, "What do you bet that was her first hit. And she was so desperate to get out of there, she didn't care who she had to kill to do it." He thought for a moment. "It also puts a whole new spin on the Papanov assassination. If he was part of the ring, killing him may have been personal instead of business."
"But why wait so long?" I asked.
"We're talking organized crime here. The more distance she puts between her so-called death and Papanov's, the less chance the Ukrainians will figure it out."
"Especially if she can pin it on someone like me," I said.
Cody's bafflement deepened. "Could somebody please rewind and tell me what's going on?"
Parker shook his head. "The less you know, the better. What we need from you right now is the address of that condo Anastasia bought."
Cody looked at Parker, then at me. "Why do I get the feeling I'm never gonna get that date?"
TWENTY-SIX
It was almost nine a.m. when we climbed into Parker's rental car.
As he started the engine, he handed me a cell phone. "I bought a couple of cheap burners. My number's stored in the memory, in case we get separated again."
I nodded and tucked it into the pocket of my new jeans. In addition to the burners, Parker's plastic bags had been full of clothes from a local thrift store—jeans, T-shirts, jackets, baseball caps, sunglasses and, for me, a worn pair of running shoes. The fit wasn't perfect, but it was close enough, and should Taggart and his friends happen along, they might be thrown off by the change of attire.
At least temporarily.
Of course, we had no reason to believe they'd find us before we left town. Not with Taggart's tracker lying at the bottom of the Dumpster. But Parker told me it was better to be safe than sorry, and I couldn't disagree.
That sentiment only carried so far, however. Before we left Cody's place, Parker had a change of heart and tried to convince me to stay and let him go after Emily alone.
But I refused—with a big hell no.
I wanted to be there when he slapped the cuffs on her.
I wanted to see the look on her face when she realized the world she had constructed to hide her crimes—and make me her fall guy—had come crashing down around her.
Was that foolish of me?
I don't think so, but I'll let you be the judge.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The drive from Hunter City to Houston is a long one, through small towns and seemingly endless stretches of empty landscape. We were nearly an hour into it and rolling toward a town called Cedardale, when the rental car's engine suddenly cut out and Parker swore under his breath.
"What happened?" I asked.
"I'll tell you when I know," he muttered as he wrestled with a steering wheel that had lost most of its power and pulled to the side of the highway.
A moment later he had the hood up and was poking around inside. I got out and stood next to him, and while I don't consider myself a clueless female, I might as well have been staring at the engine of a space shuttle.
"I can't tell what's what," I said.
Parker smiled. "I used to work on cars with my dad, but technology has ruined all that. These days, you need an advanced degree in engineering just to…" His eyes narrowed as he spotted something amiss. "Uh-oh."
"What? What's wrong?"
He leaned forward for a closer look. "The car's been rigged with a kill switch."
That didn't sound good. "What's a kill switch?"
"A mechanism that rental agencies install in case one of their cars gets stolen. They can cut power remotely and stop the thief in his tracks."
"And you think
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