he? “I could stop by right now if you have them ready.”
“Sure. I’m going to the store with my dad in a couple minutes. I’ll put the bag on the bottom step. You can just walk in.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“There’s something else. I need you to promise you won’t tell Nicky anything, okay?”
Dani rubbed the nagging ache in her left temple. “I can’t give you a blanket promise, Rena, but I can promise I won’t say a word unless I see you’re in real danger.”
“Well then I can’t—”
“Immediate danger, I mean. If someone’s pointing a gun at you I’m not going to keep quiet.”
“Oh.” Rena’s laugh was shaky. “I guess I’d want you to do something then. It’s just that I saw him give you his phone number, and the more I thought about it…”
“I don’t know why he gave me his number. I don’t have any intention of calling him.”
“I think you should.” Rena’s voice sounded suddenly older than seventeen.
“Why?”
“Because I heard him talking to somebody last night.” She paused, a bit of melodrama Dani was coming to see as a Rena trademark. “I think he knows where China is.”
“How would he—”
“I have to go. See you tomorrow night.”
Dani glanced at the time in the bottom corner of her monitor. 1:03. Four minutes since the last time she’d checked. She picked up her phone, wiped her palms on her knees, and scrolled through her contacts until she reached the Ns and the number she’d added just yesterday. Why, she couldn’t have said at the time. Pushing the little green phone icon, she held her breath.
“Hey, it’s Nick. I’m either sleeping or up to my armpits in marinara. Yeah, disgusting, I know. Anyway, leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon—”
Her desk jarred. She jammed her finger onto the E ND button and jerked around.
A stack of books sat on her desk.
“I’m really getting into this.” Evan parked his derriere next to her monitor.
Dani wiped the dampness from her top lip and slid her phone into her purse. She picked up the top book.
“Gang Slang.”
Arching an eyebrow, she looked at the second one.
“Gang Intelligence Manual— Identifying and Understanding Modern-Day Violent Gangs in the United States.”
On the third title she gave up trying not to laugh.
“My Bloody Life: The Making of a Latin King.
” She put one hand over her face, fingers splayed. “Evan. They’re just kids.”
He grabbed another book and held it up, his expression dead serious. “So were some of these.”
“Home of the Body Bags?”
Maybe it was a week and a half of lousy sleep. Maybe it was the constant second-guessing. Whatever the cause, the result was laughter on the brink of hysterics. Tears streamed down her face, and she doubled over. “I’m s-sorry.” She tried twice to quell the spasms but only succeeded in making things worse.
“Come on. Let’s go get fresh bad coffee, and I’ll tell you all I’ve learned.”
She followed him to the elevator. The door opened and two men in perfectly pressed shirts got out. One held a camera case. Evan exchanged several lines of chitchat then tugged on his rumpled shirt as the door closed. “You think I should dress more professional?”
“Nah. You wouldn’t be you.” She nodded toward the door. “I can’t imagine asking one of them to come with me tomorrow night. You’re adaptable. They’re way too GQ.”
“Wait till you see me tomorrow night. I be wearin’ creased khakis-and-a-cuff wit’ ice in ma grills.” Grinning, he pointed to his teeth. “Urbandictionary.com. Very handy.”
“Don’t you
dare
talk like that. You’ll get yourself killed, pseudo-gangsta.” They walked into the cafeteria and made a beeline to the coffee. “That would be a good name. Hey, cool ta meet ya, name’s Pseudo-G, homey.” She picked up two paper cups and filled them.
Evan rolled his eyes. “Name’s Razzi, chick.”
“Rotsy? How’d you come up wi—oh! Razzi! As in
“Sure. I’m going to the store with my dad in a couple minutes. I’ll put the bag on the bottom step. You can just walk in.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“There’s something else. I need you to promise you won’t tell Nicky anything, okay?”
Dani rubbed the nagging ache in her left temple. “I can’t give you a blanket promise, Rena, but I can promise I won’t say a word unless I see you’re in real danger.”
“Well then I can’t—”
“Immediate danger, I mean. If someone’s pointing a gun at you I’m not going to keep quiet.”
“Oh.” Rena’s laugh was shaky. “I guess I’d want you to do something then. It’s just that I saw him give you his phone number, and the more I thought about it…”
“I don’t know why he gave me his number. I don’t have any intention of calling him.”
“I think you should.” Rena’s voice sounded suddenly older than seventeen.
“Why?”
“Because I heard him talking to somebody last night.” She paused, a bit of melodrama Dani was coming to see as a Rena trademark. “I think he knows where China is.”
“How would he—”
“I have to go. See you tomorrow night.”
Dani glanced at the time in the bottom corner of her monitor. 1:03. Four minutes since the last time she’d checked. She picked up her phone, wiped her palms on her knees, and scrolled through her contacts until she reached the Ns and the number she’d added just yesterday. Why, she couldn’t have said at the time. Pushing the little green phone icon, she held her breath.
“Hey, it’s Nick. I’m either sleeping or up to my armpits in marinara. Yeah, disgusting, I know. Anyway, leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon—”
Her desk jarred. She jammed her finger onto the E ND button and jerked around.
A stack of books sat on her desk.
“I’m really getting into this.” Evan parked his derriere next to her monitor.
Dani wiped the dampness from her top lip and slid her phone into her purse. She picked up the top book.
“Gang Slang.”
Arching an eyebrow, she looked at the second one.
“Gang Intelligence Manual— Identifying and Understanding Modern-Day Violent Gangs in the United States.”
On the third title she gave up trying not to laugh.
“My Bloody Life: The Making of a Latin King.
” She put one hand over her face, fingers splayed. “Evan. They’re just kids.”
He grabbed another book and held it up, his expression dead serious. “So were some of these.”
“Home of the Body Bags?”
Maybe it was a week and a half of lousy sleep. Maybe it was the constant second-guessing. Whatever the cause, the result was laughter on the brink of hysterics. Tears streamed down her face, and she doubled over. “I’m s-sorry.” She tried twice to quell the spasms but only succeeded in making things worse.
“Come on. Let’s go get fresh bad coffee, and I’ll tell you all I’ve learned.”
She followed him to the elevator. The door opened and two men in perfectly pressed shirts got out. One held a camera case. Evan exchanged several lines of chitchat then tugged on his rumpled shirt as the door closed. “You think I should dress more professional?”
“Nah. You wouldn’t be you.” She nodded toward the door. “I can’t imagine asking one of them to come with me tomorrow night. You’re adaptable. They’re way too GQ.”
“Wait till you see me tomorrow night. I be wearin’ creased khakis-and-a-cuff wit’ ice in ma grills.” Grinning, he pointed to his teeth. “Urbandictionary.com. Very handy.”
“Don’t you
dare
talk like that. You’ll get yourself killed, pseudo-gangsta.” They walked into the cafeteria and made a beeline to the coffee. “That would be a good name. Hey, cool ta meet ya, name’s Pseudo-G, homey.” She picked up two paper cups and filled them.
Evan rolled his eyes. “Name’s Razzi, chick.”
“Rotsy? How’d you come up wi—oh! Razzi! As in
Similar Books
