man who looked to be in his late forties, with round cheeks and a shadow of beard stubble, was at the wheel. He held a cell phone in one hand and worked the steering wheel with the other.
Silence reigned until the car disappeared down the street. Gabby realized her heart had sped up and was slamming against her ribs, about to crack them. He’d been there all along. What if she and Sean hadn’t waited? What if they’d been spotted?
“So we know no one was inside his house, holding a gun to his head and peeking out the windows,” Sean said. Then, without giving her time to reply, he resumed their previous conversation. “So what did little Gabby want to be when she grew up?”
Not what she’d become, that was for sure. “A stripper. Aren’t you concerned about the guy?”
“No. And the truth, please. I’ve realized I like it.”
And what Sean liked . . . “Fine. I wanted to be a ballet dancer. I’d taken lessons and everything.” Those lessons had stopped after her parents died, ofcourse. Her uncle had deemed the expense frivolous.
“That explains the way you move,” Sean said huskily. “Graceful, as if you’re walking on clouds.”
“Thank you.” Her skin heated with pleasure, and she frowned. The man was good, seducing her without touching her. “Now shut up. I need some me time.”
He laughed. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. God, she loved that. They sat in silence for an eternity, both of them watching the neighborhood for any sign of activity. Nothing changed. Everything remained calm. Finally, Sean was satisfied that they were safe and happy with the dimming light.
“Let’s do this,” he said, and exited the car.
Now trembling, she followed suit. Part of her expected to be shot without the car to shield her. As if someone had been lying in wait for this very moment. She stood very still, limbs heavy, nibbling on her bottom lip. Soon a throb began in her temples, and she grimaced.
“None of that,” Sean said, and shadows danced their way toward her. Enveloped her, cool and welcome, but cutting her off from the rest of the world. “I don’t want you scared.”
Because of the others, she recalled. The ones like her—the ones who had self-destructed and died. Again, that only increased her fear.
“I’ll take care of you, Midnight Lynn. That’s your new stripper name, by the way.” He stepped into the darkness, becoming her everything. “Come on. We’re safe. No one can see us.” Down the sidewalk and around cars they maneuvered.
Gabby relaxed a bit and maintained a firm grip on the waist of his jeans, careful not to touch the gun he had stored there. “Do people not notice the big black blob floating along the street?”
“To them, it’s like a cloud. A gloomy mist or fog. The human eye is funny that way. It sees what it wants, what it understands.”
They must have reached Bill’s house, because Sean stopped. He withdrew a black velvet pouch from his back pocket, unrolled it, and pinched a silver pin. He worked the knob for several minutes.
“Might be easier to unlatch the back door,” she said. “Those locks are never as good.”
He chuckled. “Done this before, I take it?”
Because there was no judgment in his voice, she answered honestly. “A few times.”
“An agent’s home is a little different from the average American’s. Guess we’re just more paranoid. Every door and window is hooked to an alarm. The one on the front door is less sensitive because it’s used the most and even agents like to have people over. Guaranteed there’s a trap set at the back door and all the windows.”
“Oh.” Thank God she’d never tried to break into an agent’s home, then. She would have been toast.
“We’ll only have a few minutes once I open the door, so be ready to download.”
“Okay.”
A moment later, hinges squeaked as the door swung open. Sean already had his gun palmed and pointed ahead. “Damn,” he said. “The alarm should
Silence reigned until the car disappeared down the street. Gabby realized her heart had sped up and was slamming against her ribs, about to crack them. He’d been there all along. What if she and Sean hadn’t waited? What if they’d been spotted?
“So we know no one was inside his house, holding a gun to his head and peeking out the windows,” Sean said. Then, without giving her time to reply, he resumed their previous conversation. “So what did little Gabby want to be when she grew up?”
Not what she’d become, that was for sure. “A stripper. Aren’t you concerned about the guy?”
“No. And the truth, please. I’ve realized I like it.”
And what Sean liked . . . “Fine. I wanted to be a ballet dancer. I’d taken lessons and everything.” Those lessons had stopped after her parents died, ofcourse. Her uncle had deemed the expense frivolous.
“That explains the way you move,” Sean said huskily. “Graceful, as if you’re walking on clouds.”
“Thank you.” Her skin heated with pleasure, and she frowned. The man was good, seducing her without touching her. “Now shut up. I need some me time.”
He laughed. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. God, she loved that. They sat in silence for an eternity, both of them watching the neighborhood for any sign of activity. Nothing changed. Everything remained calm. Finally, Sean was satisfied that they were safe and happy with the dimming light.
“Let’s do this,” he said, and exited the car.
Now trembling, she followed suit. Part of her expected to be shot without the car to shield her. As if someone had been lying in wait for this very moment. She stood very still, limbs heavy, nibbling on her bottom lip. Soon a throb began in her temples, and she grimaced.
“None of that,” Sean said, and shadows danced their way toward her. Enveloped her, cool and welcome, but cutting her off from the rest of the world. “I don’t want you scared.”
Because of the others, she recalled. The ones like her—the ones who had self-destructed and died. Again, that only increased her fear.
“I’ll take care of you, Midnight Lynn. That’s your new stripper name, by the way.” He stepped into the darkness, becoming her everything. “Come on. We’re safe. No one can see us.” Down the sidewalk and around cars they maneuvered.
Gabby relaxed a bit and maintained a firm grip on the waist of his jeans, careful not to touch the gun he had stored there. “Do people not notice the big black blob floating along the street?”
“To them, it’s like a cloud. A gloomy mist or fog. The human eye is funny that way. It sees what it wants, what it understands.”
They must have reached Bill’s house, because Sean stopped. He withdrew a black velvet pouch from his back pocket, unrolled it, and pinched a silver pin. He worked the knob for several minutes.
“Might be easier to unlatch the back door,” she said. “Those locks are never as good.”
He chuckled. “Done this before, I take it?”
Because there was no judgment in his voice, she answered honestly. “A few times.”
“An agent’s home is a little different from the average American’s. Guess we’re just more paranoid. Every door and window is hooked to an alarm. The one on the front door is less sensitive because it’s used the most and even agents like to have people over. Guaranteed there’s a trap set at the back door and all the windows.”
“Oh.” Thank God she’d never tried to break into an agent’s home, then. She would have been toast.
“We’ll only have a few minutes once I open the door, so be ready to download.”
“Okay.”
A moment later, hinges squeaked as the door swung open. Sean already had his gun palmed and pointed ahead. “Damn,” he said. “The alarm should
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