Dangerous Master by Tawny Taylor Page A

of the booth, trying not to think about what was probably spattered all over the wall behind her, and flipped the camera to view mode to check the shot.
    Oh, yes, it was a money shot. She’d gotten him in flagrante delicto, pounding into some young woman.
    Unfortunately, he wasn’t Clark.
    “Dammit,” she whispered, listening for signs that the angry subject of her photograph had left. She didn’t hear anything, so she inched open the door and peered out into the hall.
    The door to Booth A swung open, and Clark and his friend—looking freshly fucked, her hair askew, her clothes mussed—stepped out. Mandy pulled her door shut as they walked by, then followed them out into the alley. They ducked into a car parked in the alley and sped away.
    She stood there, cussing.
    Just her luck, it wasn’t just raining; it was pouring. A flash of lightning startled her as she dodged the biggest puddles on her way around the west side of the building, where she’d parked her car. Her gaze locked on her destination, she scurried to her car. Rain dripping from her hair, she unlocked the door and dove into the seat, but just as she pulled the door closed, a fist pounded on her window.
    Uh-oh!
    She hit the locks.
    The fist hit the window again.
    Something hard slammed into the side of the door.
    She shoved the key into the ignition and jerked it.
    “You bitch! You were the one who took the picture!”
    Oh, shit!
    She shoved the gearshift into drive and hit the gas. Tires screeched on the wet pavement. Two seconds later, the car zoomed forward. She probably hit a new record for acceleration of a 1998 Focus as she careened down the street, took the first corner at an insane speed, and rocketed toward the freeway. She didn’t breathe easier until she was well outside of the city limits.
    She’d said it before, but this time she meant it. It was time for a career change.
    Her cell phone rang. Hands still a little shaky, she checked the number, then answered.
    “I’ve got her!” Sarah yelled into her ear.
    “Got who?” Mandy asked as she checked the right lane. Her exit was a mile up ahead. The lane was packed, bumper to bumper. This was going to be fun. She flipped on her turn signal and zoomed past a few cars, looking for a gap.
    “Your missing old lady, the one with the clown hair.”
    “Ah, that ‘her.’ ”
    “Who else would I be talking about?” Sarah asked.
    “I don’t know. I’m a little distracted.” Making her third attempt at a lane change, Mandy positioned her car in front of a semi. The gap between the truck and the pickup in front of it was on the small side, but with only a quarter of a mile left before her exit, it was do or die.
    “Distracted with what?”
    “Hang on.” She set her phone in her lap, wincing as her car drifted into the lane. Her Ford was small. That truck was huge. In an accident, she’d be the clear loser.
    Fortunately for her, there was no accident. The truck driver, anticipating her move, slowed down slightly. But he wasn’t happy to have done that. The semi’s headlights flashed in her rearview mirror. Huffing a sigh of relief, she gave the truck driver an I’m-sorry wave over her shoulder as she maneuvered into the exit lane to her right.
    She scooped up her phone and tucked it between her shoulder and ear. “I’m back. Are you still there?”
    “Yes. Anyway, where are you?”
    “Why?”
    “Because Ruby Belton’s plane leaves in two hours. I figure she’s probably already at the airport.”
    “Plane?”
    “Yeah. She’s headed to Vegas. And she’s not alone. She bought two-round trip seats. First class.”
    “Cool. I’m only fifteen minutes away from the airport.” Currently on the freeway service drive, Mandy changed lanes, preparing to get back on the highway. “What airline is she flying?”
    “US Airways.”
    “Got it. Thanks!”
    Fifteen minutes later, she was pulling into the short-term parking lot. After squeezing her car into the only parking spot she could