Lethal

He bent over her and dug his fingers into her neck, looking for a pulse. She reacted by slapping at his hands and screaming bloody murder. He was glad she was alive, but at the same time furious with her for endangering herself. He hooked one arm around her waist, scooped her off the ground and up against him.

“Stop screaming! It’s me.”

Her legs gave way and she slumped.

“Are you hurt?”

He turned her and, holding her upright by her shoulders, looked her over. She didn’t have any wounds that he could see, nothing grisly like shards of glass protruding from her torso, or shattered bones poking through her skin, no deep gashes. Her eyes were open and staring at him, but unfocused.

“Honor!” He shook her slightly. “We’ve got to get away from here. Now come on!”

He jerked hard on her hand as he struck out running, trusting her to come along. She did, although she stumbled several times before gaining her footing. When they reached the garage, he opened the door, shoved her inside, then rolled the door shut. He didn’t even wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but guided her by feel to the car. He secured her in the passenger seat, then went around and got in on the driver’s side.

He pulled off his T-shirt and used it to wipe off the grease camouflaging his face and arms. The shirt came away blood-smeared. He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He looked exactly like what he was: a man who had barely escaped becoming a human Roman candle by clambering beneath a freight train.

He reached into the backseat and retrieved the ball cap that he’d found in the pickup truck. It helped some to conceal his face. But he figured that anyone on the streets of Tambour in the next half hour would be curious about the explosion, not about a man in a ball cap driving an old sedan.

He looked over at Honor. Her teeth were chattering, and she was hugging herself tightly as though to hold herself together against the violent shudders that seized her. He didn’t even attempt to snap her out of her daze. For the time being it was just as well that she had shut down.

He got out of the car and opened the garage door. Once in the car again, he placed his hand on the top of Honor’s head and pushed it down below the level of the window. “Stay out of sight.” He started the engine and drove out of the garage, his destination the only place he knew to go.

This job sucked.

By now, Diego should have been washing Coburn’s blood off his razor.

Instead, the whole day, wasted.

He could have spent it with Isobel. He’d even thought it was safe enough now to take her out into the open. They could have gone to a park, sat on a bench and fed ducks, shared a blanket under a tree. Something like that.

He’d seen people doing things like that, and he’d scorned such unproductive pastimes. But he realized now why people enjoyed them. It was all about being close to another person and letting nothing distract you from the joy of simply being near them.

He could have spent the day gazing into Isobel’s lovely eyes, teasing small, shy smiles out of her, perhaps daring to hold her hand. He could have seen for the first time how her hair and skin looked in sunlight, how a breeze from off the river would mold her clothes to the dainty body that tantalized him.

He would have enjoyed that.

He would have enjoyed killing the fed.

Instead, he’d wasted all day babysitting the fat guy’s car.

Bonnell Wallace hadn’t even left the bank for lunch. He’d parked his car in the bank employee lot that morning, and there it had stayed until he left for home at ten after five. The Bookkeeper had said to follow him, so Diego had followed him through rush-hour traffic. He’d gone straight home.

Fifteen minutes after he got to the mansion, a black woman driving an SUV and wearing a domestic’s uniform had left. She drove through the property gate, and it had closed behind her automatically.

That had been hours ago, and no one else had come or gone.

Diego was bored stiff. But if The Bookkeeper wanted to pay him to watch a gate, that’s what he would do. For now. But never again. After collecting his pay for this job, plus the five hundred he was being paid for Isobel’s believed extermination, he’d get himself a new phone and disappear off The Bookkeeper’s radar.

As though conjuring up a call, his cell phone vibrated. He pulled it off his belt and answered.

“Are you ready for some action, Diego?”

“You hafta ask?”

The Bookkeeper issued him new instructions, but they were a far cry from what he had waited all day to hear. “You’re shitting me, right?”

“No.”

“I thought I was on standby to do the fed. ‘Be ready, Diego. At a moment’s notice, Diego,’ ” he mimicked. “What happened to that?”

“Change of plans, but this is related.”

“How?”

“It’s been a busy and trying night. Just do as I tell you without giving me an argument.”