Beyond Limits (Tracers #8)(28)

Luke grabbed a pile of junk mail. “I’ll think about it. Hey, I got a question for you. You noticed anyone on your six today?”

“No. Why?”

“I’ve got someone following me.”

“Who?”

“Feebies, I think. You haven’t noticed anyone?”

“No, man. Why would feds be tailing you?”

It was a good question. And he was beginning to think it had something to do with the meeting he’d had with all the suits the other day. In which case, they might only be tailing him and Derek. Or maybe just him. Luke glanced around and spotted a second familiar vehicle, a white Toyota he could have sworn had been in his rearview mirror when he stopped at the store. So two cars following him. No silhouette in this one.

“Jones?”

“Yeah, forget it,” he told him. “It’s probably nothing.”

“What the fuck do they want?”

“Who knows?”

“Bring ’em on down to O’Malley’s, and we’ll ask ’em.”

“Yeah, maybe I will. Catch you later.”

“Later.”

Luke dropped his phone into his grocery bag and glanced at the car one last time as he headed back toward the stairs. Gonzo had a good idea. Maybe he’d screw with these guys a little before giving them the slip.

Luke’s apartment building was a two-story square. All four sides looked out over a central courtyard that was basically a patch of asphalt ever since the el cheapo management company decided to fill in the pool that used to be there. The place had two staircases and a walkway that surrounded the second floor. His unit was closest to the west staircase. Luke took the steps at a deliberately slow pace, unlocked his door, and paused to listen.

Footsteps on the other staircase. He set his stuff inside the door and loudly pulled it shut. Then he crept soundlessly around the corner and waited.

More footsteps.

He slipped past the north-facing units and around the other side. He reached the south units just as a dark form disappeared around the corner.

Rookie. Luke would have loved to tackle him right there, but he’d probably piss his pants or maybe fire off a shot. He’d settle for letting him know he’d been made. A few more steps. He listened. Nothing.

Luke rounded the corner and smacked into the guy, sending him sprawling on his ass.

Only it wasn’t a guy. Luke’s heart damn near stopped.

“Holy shit, Hailey?” He dropped to a crouch beside her. “Are you okay?” He noticed the cast peeking from the sleeve of her windbreaker. “Shit, did I hurt your arm?”

She rolled to her knees. “It’s okay.”

He wanted to help her to her feet, but he was scared to touch her. She got up on her own, and then they were standing there, and she was gazing up at him with those blue eyes that had been haunting him for weeks.

“Hi.” She smiled. Sort of. It was more like a grimace.

“Really, did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” She glanced around. “I didn’t mean to crash into you.”

She met his gaze again. Hailey Gardner. It was freaking bizarre. At first he’d thought he was hallucinating, but she was right there, staring up at him from beneath the brim of a Boston Red Sox cap. What the hell was she doing here?

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Is there a place we can talk?” She glanced over her shoulder. “There’s something I need to tell you.”





Chapter Eight





Luke was hyperaware of the fact that he hadn’t shaved in three days and he smelled like ass from his six-mile run. But Hailey didn’t seem to notice as she took a seat at the graffiti-covered picnic table in the middle of the courtyard. He’d considered taking her to his apartment . . . for about a nanosecond. But the place was a mess, and he was pretty sure he’d left a condom wrapper on the table by the couch.

He sat downwind of her on the bench. She wore a black windbreaker that swallowed her and probably belonged to her dad or maybe her boyfriend, and she’d flipped the cuffs up. Under the jacket, she had on one of those clingy black yoga outfits. She also wore Adidas running shoes, no socks, and she had her hair pulled back in a ponytail. The sporty look had always done it for him, and her stretchy top showed off a very nice rack. And he was probably going straight to hell for thinking about her breasts right now, but they were right there in front of him, and he couldn’t help it.

“You look surprised to see me,” she said.

“You could say that.”

Last time he’d seen her, she’d been sitting on a gurney in the base infirmary waiting to have her arm set. Her face had been tear-stained and filthy, and Luke had been trying for weeks to forget the shattered look in her eyes.

“One of my college roommates lives here,” she said. “She thought maybe I could use a break, so . . . she invited me out for a visit.”

He just looked at her.

“She lives up in La Jolla,” she added, because he was sitting there like a moron, not making this any easier for her.

“So you’re staying up there, or . . . ?”

“I’m at the Del.”

The Del. As in the Hotel Del Coronado. He remembered that she came from money—at the time of the raid, her family had actually been trying to help MedAssist come up with the ransom money. Ten million dollars. They had to be seriously loaded to think they could even get near an amount like that.