Page 10 of Long Past Deadly

“Get the plate. We’ll find it.”

Mackey pursed his lips. “Or we could wait.”

“For what? Another attempt? A bystander getting hurt? A death? No.” Frank’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?”

“Quaid has sources all over the fucking globe. If he even got a glimpse of the guy, he’ll figure it out. Give him space.”

“I can’t give you any. My superiors are not happy about this shooting and want an identification made.”

“They aren’t alone, Frank. We only differ on the how.”

“Mine is centered on protecting the public and not having to explain why the SDPD couldn’t find a billionaire’s grandson.”

“We’re giving an experienced operative space to sort out who, what, and where. We’re working on what’s he’s driving. I’ll notify you as soon as we get more information. That’s the best I can do until he calls.”

Frank rose, rubbing his temple. “I guess that’ll have to do. Send me the picture of our assassin, and we’ll check official sources.”

Mackey text Harrison for the pictures. “Done. We’ll talk soon.”

Frank’s phone dinged and he glanced at the picture. “Enhanced?”

“A bit, but it’s close.”

“How about the video?”

“I’ll check with Harrison and get a copy for you.”

“I guessing you’re not telling me everything.” Frank grimaced. “Not that I expected you to.”

“We’re good at this, Frank. It’s not our first dance either. Let’s be friends and work this the best way for both of us.”

“Nice olive branch, Reynolds. Follow your own advice.” Swift strides to the door and he was gone.

Mackey gazed across the quiet office. There wasn’t a day when Quaid didn’t plant himself in the visitor’s chair and gripe about it’s lumpiness. Elizabeth would arrive and curl up on the sofa. Harrison frequently stood and paced, stretching his back, and anxious to get back to the Operations Center. Cait always kicked off her shoes and sat with Elizabeth. He missed them.

And the silence wasn’t helping. No one came after his best friend and lived to tell the story. That was the one thing he hadn’t admitted to Frank. The assassin, whoever he was and whatever his reason, was a dead man.

Chapter Three

QM International Flash Alert: 02:58:44 PST 12/15 – San Diego HQ. Threat confirmed. Security assessment active. All domestic and international personnel maintain Security Level 3. Ϙ

With her back to the closed door, Alanna eyed the ivory embossed wallpaper, the gold silk comforter laid precisely over the king-size bed, and the rich gold and blue color scheme of the bedroom. Alanna flipped the switch on the crystal lamp next to the bed and studied the way the light fused the blues and golds together.

Beautiful, but not her.

And all of this was going to put her need to find out what happened to Whit on the back burner. He’d already been missing two weeks, and every intuition told her time was running out. The man was her family and had taken her in when nobody else did. He’d stuck. So had she.

Aching in every muscle, the bathroom beckoned. Dread and anxiety rolled with hunger, and she pressed a hand against her stomach to make it stop. She hated the mystery part of every case. She could track clues as well as anyone, but her favorite part was achieving justice and putting the culprit away. She could help Quaid find answers, but first clean and repair.

Alanna flicked on the bathroom light. Gaping, she surveyed the room. Her poor girl attitudes were showing, and she usually took great pains to keep those locked away. She was used to having unexpected things thrown at her and keeping her cool. What was wrong with her?

Out of her element…

The bathroom was bigger than her entire LA apartment. A custom-designed hot tub bubbled in gentle invitation. Maid service must be spectacular at this place. There had only been a few minutes between checking in and walking into the hotel room, yet it was stocked and inviting. Creamy walls, gold fixtures, green plants, tons of lights, and a large shower added to the intimacy of the room.

Miles of mirrors, stacks of thick white towels, and all sorts of little bottles of shampoos and lotions were by the sink. Dipping her finger into the water, she tested the heat of the tub and groaned loudly when her shoulder disputed the movement. She’d slammed her left side pretty hard on the ground tackling Quaid. Locking the door, she assessed security and wished her gun was handy. But, if she was partnering with Quaid, she had to trust him to cover her while she did this. She shed her clothes, checked for glass, then flicked the gold handles on the room size shower. Four shower heads came on simultaneously.

Swearing softly at the luxury, Alanna slowly entered. The mirrored tiles strategically placed distorted her image, but she checked her hair again for glass fragments. Carefully, she put her head under the spray and used the shampoos and body gels that were lined in the little nooks. The pinprick water streams pelting her was too much stimulation for skin already over sensitized by adrenaline. Scrubbing earnestly, she noted several little pricks from glass, but none were bleeding.