The doorbell rang.
Alex appeared in the doorway, and although he knew Vaughnne wouldn’t see it, the boy’s face was taut, tense with nerves.
With that easy smile on her face, Vaughnne said, “It’s about damn time. You two sure you don’t want some? There are plates and stuff in the kitchen.”
As Alex crossed to stand by him, Gus mentally ran through the layout of the house. The kitchen was just up the hall. They could stay out of sight of the front door. Although the backpack was by the front door. Careless . . . he’d gotten careless. A look at Alex’s face had him thinking it through again. Alex was nervous . . . nervous, not scared.
This would work. They’d stay out of sight in the kitchen, and if he had to go through bodies to get the bag, then he’d do it. He had the Sig Sauer tucked into place at his back, regardless.
“I don’t know . . . you hungry, Alex?”
VAUGHNNE wondered if that pizza delivery kid would have been so obnoxious if he knew there was a man with a very loaded, very dangerous weapon lurking just about twenty feet away from him.
Granted, she had her own weapons, although she’d wisely left them out of sight, and off her body, as much as she hated it. The man saw too clearly, though, and if he’d seen a weapon on her, he would have been gone.
Hard to guard a body when the body was hauling ass to the state line.
As she sauntered into the kitchen, one large pie in her hands and a box of wings on top, she kept her focus on the kid. Wasn’t hard, since Gus wasn’t in the kitchen just yet. The first thing he’d done once the front door shut was move out of the kitchen. All lazy, easy moves, from the way he looked, but he’d wasted no time getting the bag he’d tucked behind the front door.
Whatever he carried in that thing, it must be important. As he came back into the kitchen, his gaze sought out Alex. The kid gave him a wan smile and she could all but feel a pop in the air as some of the tension drained away.
Pretending not to notice their preoccupation, she dumped the pizza on the table. “I kept it basic,” she said, flipping the lid up. “I was kind of figuring you might want something—I hear about how boys your age always have room for food and I figured it was the least I could do to say thanks. I doubted you’d want the garbage truck approach I take to my food.”
Alex wrinkled his nose, relaxing a little more as he leaned in and eyed the pizza. “Garbage truck?”
“Yeah.” She grinned at him. “I get it loaded with just about everything.”
She found the cabinet where she’d already put the plates. One thing about moving in—if you didn’t get the basic stuff out, toiletries, dishes, books—books were very basic—then it just made it that much more annoying. She grabbed three of them and passed them out before moving to the fridge. “All I have is sugary stuff,” she said, shooting Gus a wry smile. “I’ve got the appetite of a six-year-old boy. Coke, Big Red, some root beer. I do have milk, but it’s chocolate.”
“I’ll take a Big Red,” Alex said.
She glanced at Gus. He shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll have water.”
“I have beer,” she offered. She snagged a Big Red for Alex, another Mike’s Hard Lemonade for herself. “And these?”
He snorted and shook his head. “I’ll pass.”
SHE shouldn’t have had the second lemonade.
Vaughnne could admit that nearly two hours after they left as she emerged from a deep, deep sleep to the sound of her alarm.
She’d set her phone to go off because she wanted to take a good look around and get a feel for things when she wasn’t going to be seen. So that meant . . . at night.
But she was exhausted. If she didn’t plan on trying to get some more sleep, she might have gone and chugged a few of the Monsters she had stashed in the fridge, but she was damned well going to get sleep unless all hell broke loose.
She didn’t think that was going to happen.
Everything inside her body was just screaming for bed, and if there were problems, adrenaline would be crashing through her and clearing away the clouds. That only made it harder to drag her tired ass out the door once she’d donned a black tank top and some black jogging shorts. She’d thought about going for something a little more concealing, but that kid already had her reevaluating things.
She’d come up with something if they woke up and saw her snooping around. Vaughnne was nothing if not clever and quick on her feet, but if she was dressed up all ninja-like, that was not going to set the oh-so-sexy Gus or the oh-so-scared Alex at ease.
Why are you so scared, anyway, kid? she wondered as she started down the street. Right now, the plan was to get the lay of the land. Nothing like a midnight jog for that. Even had an excuse. She couldn’t sleep. They didn’t have to know she was lying.
It was a quiet neighborhood, she decided. Run-down and tired, but trying to cling to nice, and it looked like everybody here still tried to take care of what they owned.
And . . . each other, she figured out not even eight minutes into her run.
A cop car came around the corner and she grimaced, slowing to a stop, keeping her hands at her sides. She’d put her license in her pocket before she left—not her license, but one of the fakes she carried for working so she was in the clear there. Even as the two cops climbed out of the car, she figured it wasn’t a total irritation that they’d been called.
She had another piece of the puzzle. The people around here did watch things. Would make it harder for her to do what she needed to do. Harder. But not impossible. Also made it safer for the kid. A little, at least.
As the younger cop loitered off to the side, she focused on the older one. A tall guy, his skin nearly as black as the night, smiled at her, a nice, professional smile. “Ma’am.”
“Evening.” Then she grimaced and looked around. “I guess I should say night.”
“Guess so.” He smiled a little more naturally. “It’s kind of late for a jog. Had a call about a strange woman prowling around.”
Damn. Glad I didn’t go for the prowling method, Vaughnne thought. Even as she thought, she gave a disgruntled sigh and swiped a hand over the back of her brow. “Do I really look like I’m prowling around, Officer? I’m running.”
“At one in the morning?” his partner asked.
Younger. Rookie, Vaughnne decided. Still had the shine on him, and the stupid.
“I had a hard time getting to sleep,” she said mildly. “I just moved into my new place today and I don’t know where a gym or anything is around here. The only thing that helps me sleep when I’m having insomnia is a workout. So I went for a run.”
“Where did you move into?”
The response that leaped to mind was, None of your damned business. But instead of going with that, she shrugged and waved off to the east. “Westbrook Avenue, a few blocks over.”
Somebody who had never had trouble with the law, or didn’t work in law enforcement, was just going to answer that sort of question, because they automatically thought cooperating made everything better. Sometimes it did. Sometimes it didn’t. Right then, it didn’t hurt her to cooperate. Vaughnne was an old hand at dealing with law enforcement . . . from both sides. She carried a badge of her own now, but there had been a time when she was the one having trouble with the law. Lessons that had served her well more than once.
“Just moved into a new area and you’re out running around in the dead of night.”
She looked back at the rookie and lifted a brow. “I was told it was a safe area. Was I told wrong?”