1
The Stakeout
Sinclair Develin eyed the young woman in the first-floor apartment before handing over the binos to Maria Sanchez. “That’s her.”
“I don’t get it,” Sanchez said from the back seat. “Why do people leave their blinds open at night, especially when they live on the first floor?”
“Because they don’t think anyone’s watching their every move.” Jacoby Jones killed the engine. “We’ve got company.”
A lone scumbag slinked down the street. “Probably on his way home from a bar,” Sin replied. It was just after midnight.
After glancing around, the guy vanished inside the garden apartment building located in a low-rent area of Baltimore.
“Good work finding the girl, Jacoby,” Sin said.
“That’s why you pay me the big bucks. I find people…amongst other things.”
“Ah, Christ,” Sin ground out, his gaze trained on his target. “That guy just entered her apartment. Who the hell is he?”
“I did a complete workup on her,” Sanchez replied. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
Sin pulled out his Glock and attached a silencer. “Sanchez, you’re with me. Jacoby, you know what to do.”
“When I confirmed her location last night,” Jacoby said, “I also confirmed her bedroom window is locked. It faces the alley.”
“This isn’t our first rodeo,” Sanchez replied. “I’ve got your back.”
“Let’s do this.” Sin exited the warm car and the cold December air slapped his cheeks. Ignoring the chill, he tucked his weapon under his coat and into his pants as Jacoby lifted a duffle from the trunk. Sin and Sanchez made their way toward the entrance while Jacoby slipped into the shadows.
Sin tried the doorknob to the young woman’s apartment.Dammit. Using his pick, he jimmied the lock, thrust open the door, and stepped into the living room.
The girl and the guy jerked their heads in his direction. The guy’s hand froze in mid-air, a thick, white envelope in his outstretched fingers. Sin swept the room and found his second target. A sleeping baby tucked in its car seat on the floor. As soon as Sanchez shut the door behind them, she hurried toward the bedroom.
“What the fuck—” blurted the guy, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Who the hell are you?” Sanchez breezed past him. “And where the fuck does she thinkshe’sgoing?” A swirling cloud of smoke hovered in his face as he shoved the envelope into his parka.
“I’m your worst fucking nightmare,” Sin replied as Sanchez pulled up alongside him.
The young woman’s shoulders slumped. “Are you cops?”
Ignoring her, Sin cemented his full attention on the punk. “Get lost, if you know what’s good for you.”
The guy’s eyes narrowed and he pointed a tattooed finger at the infant. “That’s my property.”
“That’s a baby, asshole,” Sin bit out. “And she’s not for sale.”
“Who ya callin’ asshole?”
“You,asshole.”
“Fuck off, man. I’m doing business here.” Though he was small in stature, he got up in Sin’s face. “You’re a dead man walkin’. Uncle Charlie will rip your throat out if you fuck with his business.”
“You tell Uncle Charlie he can’t kill the devil.” Sin glared down at him. “And I’m the devil.”
In one swift move, the guy reached behind his back, pulled out a twenty-two, and pointed it at Sinclair. On a gasp, the girl jumped back.
Sin’s pulse stayed steady while a smile made his lips twitch. This loser didn’t have a clue who he was dealing with.
But Sin needed to keep things chill, so he raised his hands. “Let’s take this down a few notches.” He slid his gaze to Sanchez. “Take the girl outside.” He shot the man a cold, hard stare. “She doesn’t need to see me take you out.”
