Page 108 of Summer Heat
Ding, ding again. The woman unlocked the door, and she crawled in. Thank God her traveling companion was a woman. Maybe there would be some camaraderie when she asked for a clothing related pit stop.
“Gabriella.” The familiar voice made her skin tighten. The butler. He was in the backseat. Nicola jumped forward, her breath punched from her lungs. The door locks secured.
“Why are you here?” she demanded. How is this happening?
The butler’s face smiled. “What happened last night?”
Nicola’s hand went to the door. “Pull over. Now!”
The driver stared at her like she’d spouted purple slime from her ears. “What?”
“Pull over.”
“Gabriella? Are you okay?” the butler asked. “My name’s David. We’re the team pulling you out.”
Nicola pulled her gun from her waistband, and pointed it at the soccer mom lookalike. “Stop the car.”
The woman eased off the gas pedal and pulled toward the sidewalk.
“Now unlock the door.”
“Gabriella, you’ve got this all wrong,” he said.
“My name’s not Gabriella.”
“And I’m not really a butler. Your handler sent us.”
She moved the gun at him, point-blank range. “You walked me into an ambush last night, jackass.”
“Wrong.” He looked smug despite her finger on the trigger.
“No directions on the cocktail napkin.”
“Yes, the—”
“Open the car door now.” No move from the soccer mom. Nicola swung her aim back to the driver’s seat. “After last night, I’ll have no problem saving my ass and explaining why your skull’s in pieces. Open. The. Door.”
The woman blanched like Casper but unlocked the door. Nicola jumped out, landing on her good foot. The back door cracked open. “Drive away, soccer mom. David, don’t try it.”
He got out of the SUV, hands up. “Gabriella. You need to come in.”
“Like I said, I’ve got no problem with paperwork. And there’s going to be a ream’s worth if you don’t get back in that car. I’ll leave you bleeding out in the streets of suburbia.”
Soccer mom moved fast in the corner of her eye. Worst case scenario was the woman moving for her piece.
Bam! Nicola fired, shattered the window, warning shot style, and pivoted straight into the barrel of the butler’s Smith and Wesson. Fuck.
Nicola heard the slide on soccer mom’s gun. Two against her one. Her odds sucked right now.
“Get in the car, Gabriella. I don’t want to kill you,” David growled.
“Just like you gave me extraction directions.”
“Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong.”
“I know if you’re on CIA payroll, you’re a fucking double-dipping dick.”
“You want a showdown on fucking Main Street? Some minivan’s going to drive by and call local cops. Then we’re all screwed.”
