Page 7 of The Ghost Assassin

“I need you to get in your car and drive until I get you help. I’ll call you back. Understand?”

“Yes. I’m scared, Lilah.”

“Good. You’ll be smart then. Don’t trust anyone, and I mean anyone, Tic Tac. Homeland Security came and got me. They don’t seem to want the Feds involved.”

“You are the Feds.”

“We all know I’m a beast of my own name. Get moving.” I disconnect and call the only person in LA I know to call. Rich. Who is probably still in Europe, but I have to try. He knows Tic Tac. He likes him. He’s Clark Kent all the way—never dirty, never bad—which was half our problem as a couple, I suspect. But bottom line, if he’s not stateside, he may have someone he trusts, who I’ll have to trust by default, which sucks, but it’s where I’m at right now. I punch in his number, and he answers on the first ring. “Lilah.”

“Are you in Europe?”

“I just got back to LA. Why? You finally come to your senses and want me over that gangster Mendez?”

I breathe out. “Thank God.”

“Well, that’s not the reaction I expected. Oh, shit. That wasn’t about me. What’s going on?”

“I can’t explain much right now, but I trust you. Don’t trust anyone else, okay?”

“What is this, Lilah?”

“Director Murphy’s dead,” I say.

“Holy shit. What the fuck?”

“A professional hit. Homeland Security called me in to run the case.”

“What the hell?”

Obviously, his vocabulary shrunk while he was in Europe, or it was always smaller than I realized but I push past his limitations. “I’ve been working with Murphy to take down some very powerful, very dangerous people who’ve infiltrated our law enforcement.”

“Don’t trust anyone. Got it. What am I doing?”

“Tic Tac’s been helping me,” I say. “He could be a target. Can you get him and keep him safe?”

“Why the hell would you involve him? He’s not that guy, Lilah.”

“Are you in or out, Rich?”

“I’m in. I love that little dude.”

“Well, then go give him a hug, because that’s just so sweet.”

“Fuck you, Lilah.”

“Finally, we’re talking language I understand. Get a burner, and text me the number. Then I’ll send you Tic Tac’s number. He’s got a burner already. Also, don’t tell him he can’t handle this. He’s strong. He’s not a little bitch.”

“And I am?”

“Guilty much? Get a burner,” I repeat.

“I have one. Give me five. And I was never a little bitch, Lilah, or you wouldn’t be calling me. I just didn’t bury bodies. Apparently, that made me not your type.” He disconnects.

He wants it to be that simple, but it never was. And I don’t like how targeted that comment is, as if he knows bodies were buried. I’ll deal with Rich and Kane’s hatred of him soon enough. For now, I dial Danica Day. She answers on the first ring.

“Agent. What’s going on?”

“Put on your thinking cap, DD. I’m going to need you to prove you’re more brains than beauty.”

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