Page 32 of Lethal Danger

Jazz switched her phone to speaker and turned on the flashlight function to shine on the casings.

“They didn’t hit you?”

“No. Flash warned me, so I ducked in time.”

“Thank the Lord for Flash.”

Nev’s wording made Jazz pause in her study of the nine millimeter casings. Nev hadn’t even been a Christian for a year yet, and she already sounded as churchy as the rest of the PK-9 team’s Bible thumpers. Must be part of fitting in with her new crowd.

Used to be Nev had been happy with Jazz as her bestie, as the only peer that really mattered. And they’d always fit in with each other, without having to become anything different than who they were. Without having to believe in fairytales people only used to look good and—

“I’m headed to you now.” Nev’s pronouncement, backed up with the sound of an engine starting, interrupted Jazz’s thoughts.

“You don’t need—”

“Don’t be crazy. Of course, I need to be there.”

“Okay. Police are pulling in now.” Jazz rose to her feet as two squad cars turned into the lot, cutting their sirens while the colored lights continued to flash. “I found some nine-millimeter casings. Sounded like handguns with suppressors.”

“Definitely planned. I don’t like this.” Nev’s tight tone said she was taking this more seriously than Jazz was. “I wish Phoenix was here. She’d know what to do.”

But would the boss do anything for Jazz? She was still the new kid at PK-9. And she had the undeniable impression Phoenix didn’t like her. Maybe didn’t trust her either.

“You’re definitely coming to stay with me tonight. And until we figure out who’s after you and put a stop to it.”

“I don’t—”

“No choice, girl.”

Jazz shut her mouth since two police officers approached her at that moment anyway. She lifted her hand in a still wave, friendly and showing she wasn’t a threat.

And for a second, it sank in. This threat had been too close. If not for Flash, she’d have more than one bullet in her now. Probably be dead.

A scarier thought flared in her mind and stuck there—would anyone have cared?

Hawthorne’s fingers flew across the keyboard, inspiration flowing like a waterfall as Jazz Lamont chased down a killer.

She stopped the bad guy’s flight with a throw of her knife, her accuracy dead-on.

The space ringtone of Hawthorne’s phone—the closest he’d been able to find to anything mysterious—sounded just as the villain fell to the ground.

With a groan, Hawthorne angled the steno chair away from his laptop on the desk and checked the phone’s screen.

Rebekah.

So much for early morning being the best time to avoid interruptions. He glanced at the computer’s clock. 6:00 a.m. At least he’d managed to write for an hour. An amazing hour. Writing hadn’t been that fun in a long time.

The persistent tone reminded him he needed to answer the call.

He slid the icon upward on the screen. “Hi, Rebekah. You’re up early.”

“Don’t get me started.” Her tone conveyed both self-pity and fatigue. “Early class.” Hopefully, she wasn’t driving there, given the way she sounded.

“On Saturday?”

“Yeah. My program offers classes at weird times for people like me who work fulltime.”

“I see.” He searched for something helpful to say. Poor kid was doing all this adult stuff on her own. Though he and Nathaniel had done the same thing after military service. At least he hoped his younger brother had followed through with joining the Navy and getting an education. “It’s great you’re putting yourself through school. You won’t regret it.”

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