A Righteous Kill by Kerrigan Byrne Page A

closed with crime scene tape.
    “It’s difficult to explain a Federal tail to those in your social group or professional life, and it tends to make people jumpy,” Director Trojanowski was saying.
    Hero squinted at him, trying to reach his point before he did.
    “Which poses a public safety issue. Also, a uniformed body guard might scare off the perpetrator.”
    “Wait.” Hero worried about where this was going. “Isn’t that the idea?”
    “Well Ms. Katrova-Connor, Hero, ah, our best chance of catching John the Baptist is if he attempts to… contact you again.”
    “You mean attempts to kill her again,” Luca interjected. His demeanor had been stormy before. Now it was thunderous. “We’re not using her as live bait. There has to be another option that doesn’t involve—”
    “I’m sorry, but does your name title have ‘Director’ in front of it? Because it damn well better if you’re issuing orders, Ramirez.” Trojanowski stood and drew himself up to his full height, which was still considerably shorter than Luca.
    Luca’s jaw set forward, a muscle working furiously on the left side, “No sir , but we can’t—”
    “Yes,” Hero interrupted. “I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you think is best.”
    “Hero, you should think carefully about this.” Luca insisted, his black eyes glittering with warning.
    “What’s there to think about? I’m not living like this. And I don’t want another woman to go through what I did. For whatever reason, this ass hat picked me, and I intend for that to be the biggest mistake he ever made. You know, other than killing people.” She stood up, because it seemed like the thing to do. “I’m in. I’ll be your bait.”
    “Right on, sister.” Di Petro clapped her on the back. “You’ve got a pair on you.”
    Hero smiled at Agent Di Petro. She’d had an easy rapport with the East Coast transplant since they’d met at the Bureau offices when she’d given her first statement. She liked his sharp, lanky Italian good looks and his laid back, easy smile. He reminded her of a thirty-something Mark Wahlberg and she got the impression that he hid his keen intelligence behind his thick Southie accent and inappropriate humor. He liked people to underestimate him. And that made him dangerous.
    “Excellent.” Trojanowski looked pleased. “So, like I said, an obvious agent would be difficult, but if he were to be something closer, like say, an artist’s assistant or a boyfriend, it would explain their constant presence. Agent Di Petro has consulted for Interpol on some international art theft cases back in Boston and Philadelphia. I feel that he’s more suitable to act as your protégé.”
    Vince nodded, eyeing his partner with a knowing smirk.
    That left Luca as the love interest.
    Hero bit her lip. Her temperature spiked. How could it be that her body responded to him even in the middle of such chaos and danger?
    The agent in question looked like he could spit nails.
    Every cloud really did have a silver lining. Sure, a psychopath wanted her dead, but she’d also get to watch the tight-assed Agent Ramirez squirm. He’d spent weeks infiltrating a human trafficking operation without complaint, but he was pissed about pretending to be her boyfriend? What was so wrong with her? Better yet, what was his problem? She was an excellent girlfriend. In whatever capacity. He should be so lucky.
    “Sounds perfect,” she agreed. “Agent Ramirez can sleep on my couch.”
    The men all dubiously eyed the couch in question.
    The director shrugged. “He’s slept on worse, I’m sure.”
    “Yeah, he has.” Vince clapped Luca on the shoulder, losing the battle with his mocking smile.
    Luca just glared at the couch in pure disgust, his crossed arms straining the sleeves of his suit coat.
    Hero looked over her shoulder. What? Her couch was comfy. Well, it was more pretty than practical. And now that she looked closely, she doubted Luca could stretch his six foot plus frame