Dear Gage,
I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you more last night. I just need you to know this isn’t my choice. Please accept this hangover cure as a token of my remorse. Trust me, it really works. Take care of yourself, 6A.
Still your favorite neighbor (I hope, although I understand if I’m not),
6B
I stared at the green liquid, then back at the note. How was dumping me not her choice? I didn’t know if I should take any of this seriously, the mysterious drink and the more mysterious note. Maybe she was punking me. But why would anyone do that to someone they’d just met? More likely, maybe Will and Rex and some of the other guys had set up this whole damn thing. I didn’t know to what end, though, and as much as they all liked a good prank, they were never mean about it. Convincing my beautiful neighbor to lead me on seemed like an exercise in cruelty that they would never undertake.
If this was a game, the only way to get to the end of it was to play along, so I uncapped the bottle and took a swig. It wasn’t bad. A little fruity, a little spicy. If I could keep it in my stomach, it might give me some electrolytes and calories to help me recover.
I lay down on the sofa and waited. Twenty minutes later, the room had stopped spinning. Ten minutes after that, my stomach had calmed, and my headache eased. I climbed into a steamy shower, and by the time I climbed back out, I felt human again. Kat’s hangover cure was the real deal. Maybe her note was, as well. Maybe there was something else going on. It couldn’t hurt to ask.
I shaved off my stubble, dressed in jeans, a black sweater, and loafers, and went straight to the source. I knocked on 6B’s door. It opened a minute later, and I was looking down at a short, wiry, gray-haired woman.
“Good morning, Florence. Or afternoon.”
“Gage.” She smiled up at me. “Were you looking for me, or…?”
“Actually, I was hoping to speak with Kat.”
“She went out for a couple of hours. I’m keeping Mr. Whiskerbottom Fuzzypants company. You could try calling her.”
I shook my head. I needed to look Kat in the eye when I asked what the hell was going on. “Could you ask her to stop by my place when she gets home? I have to pick up some groceries and one more Christmas gift for my mom this afternoon, but I should be home by five.”
“Of course, I’ll tell her. If you’re shopping at Sammi’s, you might run into her.” She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. “She mentioned Janie’s going to help her pick out some catnip toys for someone.”
“Oh, she’s not at work?”None of my business, I reminded myself. “Never mind.”
The last thing Kat needed was me keeping tabs on her like some heartbroken 4B. And I didn’t need to try to run into her while we were out and about when we lived next door to each other. Then again, I did have a sudden craving for the free-trade chocolate I could only get at Sammi’s.
CHAPTER 18
KAT
Iwas a block from Sammi’s Grocer, weaving in and out of the crowds on the sidewalk, heading toward a quiet street where Volkov’s thugs could make a play for me. I was dressed in standard operational black from head to toe, including low-heeled boots with rubber treads, perfect for running, and a long, black trench coat with deep pockets, perfect for concealing my Glock. But the most important weapon I had was my team. Their eyes and ears were all around me.
“How are we doing, Penn?” I asked our team leader, using the tiny comms unit in my ear that transmitted both ways.
“Tactical has eyes on two likely targets,” he answered. “They’ve snapped photos, and Pasco should have IDs on them momentarily.”
Ten seconds later, Pasco’s voice was in my ear. “KitKat, we have an ID on both suspects. Two blocks out and closing in fast. They’re hired guns, so likely your dates for this aftern—”
“Kat, you have company,” Kessler, who was the tactical team leader for today’s operation, broke in.
“A third hired gun?” I asked, picking up the pace. I needed to be on a less populated street before the shit went down in order to protect civilian lives.
“A neighbor,” she answered.
“What?”
“Kat!” Gage’s voice called from behind me. “Kat, wait up!”
“What’s the call, Kessler?” I asked. I moved faster, anticipating hers would be the same as my inclination, which was to put as much space between him and me as possible before the shooters came for me.
“Don’t start a chase,” Kessler said. “We don’t need chaos on the street right now. Try to convince him to leave.”
Shit, she was right. My agent’s head knew it, but my heart just wanted to keep him safe.
