Page 52 of Fast Kill

“Out? I can’t go out.”

“Sure you could, if I was with you and we took some precautions. We’ll take a rental car, and you’ll wear a disguise.”

He could see her turning the idea over in her mind as she watched him. She had to be feeling trapped here. “Just for the day,” he promised. “I’ll call your boss and clear it with him personally, and have you back by dinnertime.” Chris would sign off on it.

A little smile tugged at her mouth. “I’d love to get away for a few hours,” she said, her expression wistful.

He’d move heaven and earth to make her happy. He kissed her slow and tender. “Then I’ll make it happen.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, the alert to remind him of his physio appointment across town. “Damn, I have to go already.”

She nodded, but going by the disappointment in her eyes she wanted him to stay, and that made him so freaking happy. He was impatient to take things to the next level with her, but something warned him not to move too fast. No way he was screwing this thing up with her. “Okay. What about tomorrow?”

He dropped a final kiss on her upturned lips and pushed to his feet. “Be ready to roll by eight. I’ll take care of everything.”

****

Shit, someone was coming out of her apartment. The one he’d finally figured out was hers after almost blowing his cover once already. Coming up here again so soon was plain stupid, but desperation was one hell of a motivator. He was acutely aware of each minute that slipped past without him achieving his objective. Of the deadline placed upon him by the cartel, hurtling toward him at what felt like warp speed.

Halfway down the hall from her apartment, Dillon did an abrupt about-face as Taylor’s door opened, and kept his head lowered as he pretended to check his phone while casting subtle glances out of the corner of his eye. When he saw the big dude who’d been at her place the other night, a spurt of alarm shot through him and he immediately headed for the stairwell he’d just come from. His maintenance worker uniform and ball cap would help disguise him, but only if the guy didn’t get a good look at him.

Dillon didn’t dare look back until the stairwell door had shut behind him. Through the small rectangular window, he risked a glance down the hallway.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, his heart sinking.

One of the security agents had entered the hallway and was talking to the big guy. Dillon edged back so they couldn’t see him, aligning his body so he could see what was going on. The agent laughed at something the guy said, then knocked on Taylor’s door and went in.

Shit, that had been close.

Dillon set his jaw and hurried down the stairs, his pistol rubbing against his lower back with each step. Even with a silencer, attacking now was too risky. Other agents were already prowling the building and grounds, their movements too unpredictable to form a pattern.

Fucking hell. All he’d needed was a solid ten-minute window of time to get into the apartment, put a bullet through Taylor’s skull without her ever knowing what had hit her, and then use the rest of the time to make a clean getaway.

Wasn’t happening now. His disguise was useless because of the security cameras positioned throughout the building. With the guards constantly rotating, it made finding a window of opportunity impossible.

He’d have to find a new disguise before coming back here. And instead of killing just Taylor, it looked like he might have to take out a few DEA agents along with her…

Then pray he could make it out of the building alive.

Chapter Fifteen

“Jamie lent you his truck?” Taylor said in surprise as Logan walked with her into the underground parking garage the next morning.

“He did. Because he trusts me like a brother.” That’s the way things were in a unit like theirs. Even if he was the new guy. Logan opened the passenger door for her.

She tugged the brim of her ball cap lower over her forehead before climbing into the cab, her hair tucked up into the hat. “He must. According to Charlie, this truck is his baby.”

“I’ll take good care of it.” He’d take good care ofher. “An agent is going to tail us just past the city limits to make sure no one’s following us.” Neither of them were carrying anything that could track them, and he and Jamie had swept the truck just to be cautious.

“Good.”

He slid in behind the wheel and cranked the engine. Strains ofBack in Blackblasted out of the stereo where he’d left his phone connected and he shot out a hand to turn it down.

“AC/DC?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Yep. You like them?”

“They’re okay.”

“Just okay?” He shot her a horrified look. “They’re the best bandever.”

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