Say No To Joe? by Lori Foster Page B

saluted him, and Luna pulled away. To Joe’s surprise, he was sleepy. Maybe he would just rest his eyes for a little while. Luna was certainly capable of following the directions and getting them there safe and sound without his assistance.
    Minutes later, Luna smiled over at Joe as he began to softly snore. His hands were over his hard abdomen, his fingers laced together. His head had slid off the pillow to slump against the door window, and the early morning sunshine glinted off the small gold hoop in his ear. His long, dark lashes softened his features, a sharp contrast to the beard shadow on his chiseled jaw and the slight kink to his once-broken nose.
    Even mountains had moments of weakness, it seemed. She sighed.
    Why, oh, why did that have to make him more appealing?
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    Given the simple clothes and shoddy residence, he’d assumed Joe Winston was broke. That assumption had to be reassessed when the expensive black muscle truck drove past the alley where he’d set up. Joe Winston was either truck poor or selective in where he spent his money. And with Joe’s reputation, he’d bet it was the latter. The man didn’t strike him as a fool.
    With a covert attention to detail, he watched the flashy truck pass. He’d already turned off the “big ear” and removed the headphones. Good thing, too, or the rumbling of that powerful engine would have deafened him. The eavesdropping device was set to click off at any loud noise, but sometimes it wasn’t quick enough to keep him from having his brain rattled.
    When he’d first bought the “big ear,” it had taken him a while to figure out how to use it effectively. From a distance, it picked up the slightest whisper. But it also picked up everything else, making it difficult to use in congested areas. Luck was with him this morning, because Winston had decided to slip away with the dawn. There’d been some disruption with the waking birds, but he’d heard what he needed to hear.
    So, Winston was aware of Bruno. He supposed that wasn’t really a big surprise. Winston couldn’t have lived so long by being an idiot. The fact that Joe knew might complicate his job, but he wouldn’t let it get in his way.
    Not this time.
    Now that the area was clear, he stepped out of the car and went to the front to remove the phony plates and replace them with the originals. He did the same at the back of the car, then tucked both fake plates into his satchel, along with the “big ear” and an assortment of other tools. For this mission, he’d packed a stun baton that delivered five hundred thousand volts of discouragement to assailants, night-vision goggles, a supply of nonlethal ammunition and the general assortment of hand and foot restraints, both steel and nylon.
    He paused for only a moment. There’d been some mention of kids. That made his stomach feel a little icy and caused him a few cramps. His conscience was so old and rusty, he sometimes doubted its existence, but he wasn’t so hardened that he could discount the possible threat to kids. Hell, he didn’t want any innocents caught in the crossfire, but definitely not kids.
    He pressed a fist to his guts and told himself he’d just have to trust Winston to keep them out of it. He had more important issues to concentrate on, like the fact that Winston had claimed his destination. North Carolina. He glanced at his watch. Yep, he’d have to haul ass to catch up.
    He left the Sebring in the alley, assuming the cops would locate it soon enough and return it to its rightful owner. If he found a minute or two, why, he’d even give them an anonymous tip. But not yet.
    Before setting up this morning, he’d parked his well-used and nondescript brown sedan only a few yards away. The car was part of his necessary equipment. With a thick metal mesh screen securely fastened between the front and back seat, it served as an adequate cage for