Page 31 of Shadows of Justice

“Don’t touch me,” I say lowly, as Chase makes a repetitive whimpering sound that reminds me of a yelping dog.

“Hey!” his buddies yell, stomping over to come to his rescue. I release him and Chase falls to his knees, cradling his wrist. I step around him and head out of the range, trying not to laugh.

That felt good.

Especially after the Tim fiasco, which I will admit, was quite a hit to my pride.

I leave the range and feel a buzzing coming from my bag that’s slung over my shoulder. I hear the tinny blast of Enrique Inglesias’s Hero coming from within. Confused, I rifle around, trying to find the source, and scoff when I find that it’s coming from the prepaid cellphone that Leo gave me.

I’ve got one guess for who is calling.

“Funny,” I say, when I answer the call from No Caller ID.

I recognize the deep, velvety chuckle on the other end of the line and, despite myself, my toes curl at the sound of it.

“Buenos dias, chica. Have I made you smile?” I can hear the sexy smirk in Leo’s voice.

I pull my lips into my mouth to try and subdue my grin.

“Nope, not at all,” I say breezily, continuing the walk to my car. “What’s going on? Have you heard something else for me to give to Jennings?”

I hear him tsk at me. “If I’m to trust you, you shouldn’t lie to me.”

I stop short. “Huh?”

“You are smiling, have been from the moment you saw me calling, in fact.”

I straighten, turning in all directions to look around. I eventually spot him across the street. He’s leaning against an F150, his white v-neck pulled deliciously across his pecs and shoulders. He’s smiling at me, but his eyes are hidden by aviator sunglasses.

I’d be lying if I said my stomach didn’t erupt into butterflies at the sight of him.

“Are you following me?” I exclaim into the phone, even though I’m looking right at him.

“Of course not,” he says. “But I do need to talk to you.”

“So, you followed me.” I start to cross the street towards him.

“No, not here, go to your car,” he says quickly, and turns back to climb into the truck. “Meet me at Davidson and Crowley. Park in the middle of the lot.”

“What? Why?” I ask, stopping in my tracks and waving the car forward that had slowed for me to cross.

“Just do it, Genevieve,” he says. “Take your time, and use an indirect route to make sure you’re not followed.” He ends the call and I blink, turning back to walk toward my parked Camry.

That was strange.

Who the hell would be following me?

I discreetly peer around to mentally catalogue all of the makes and models of the cars that are parked around mine. My pulse picks up, wondering if all of this gray area business I’ve involved myself in is about to bite me in the ass.

I don’t think Leo’s a danger to me, but the people he associates with could be another story.

I wind through the streets, taking intentional wrong turns, but the streets are slow on this weekday midmorning so it’s pretty easy to tell that no one is following me.

Leo must just be paranoid.

The old parking lot on Davidson and Crowley is abandoned, grass and bushes growing throughout the cracked pavement. I pull in and park underneath a tree, the shade blanketing my windshield. The AC is blasting, but the interior of my car is only just now starting to cool.

I can’t wait for winter.

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