Mint Juleps and Justice by Nancy Naigle Page B

ripped the circle-and-wave-covered page from his notebook and crumbled it in his palm when the girl walked out. Mike was right at her heels. Goto’s tongue flicked across his dry lips as he watched her flip her long hair over her shoulder as she moved gracefully down the block.
    His eyes narrowed as he watched her walk away. Mike was watching her too.
    Goto pulled his binoculars to eye level and twisted them into focus. Mike wore a goofy-ass smirk.
    “Stupid bastard.” Goto lifted his hand in a gun-like motion and pulled the fake trigger with his forefinger.
    He could picture the six-foot-something bastard gasping and grabbing for a pool of red in the center of his chest, then falling to the sidewalk. He could do it right now and be done. Too easy, though. No sport to that. “Soon, my friend. Soon.”
    Maybe that girl would factor into the final plan. Could he be that lucky? He dropped the binoculars into his lap and grabbed the notebook. Balancing it on the steering wheel, he started sketching. He pushed the pen, first lightly brushing it against the paper, then pressing hard to refine the image.
    Pretty damn good, if he said so himself. The girl stared back at him from the page. Okay, so she had some extra cleavage now, but it looked good that way. And then it dawned on him. This was the girl that he’d met at the yoga studio the other night. Brooke Justice. I knew I’d seen her before.
    He shoved the notebook back under his seat, finally feeling satisfied with the surveillance mission and himself. According to the digital clock on the dash, he had just enough time to stop and get a lottery ticket and get to work at the pizza shop on time—if he hurried.
    Holding down the job was a pain, but he needed to be close to his prey to make the plan, and he sure didn’t want to send up any red flags with his parole officer. As long as he was on time for his check-ins there shouldn’t be any problem.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    T he moment Brooke clicked Accept on the computer at Hartman Security and Investigation earlier that morning, state-of-the-art software was at work unraveling the recent events of Keith Farrell’s life and hers.
    On Monday morning, armed with the information on Brooke’s case, Mike headed out early to Virginia Beach to begin following the leads. He couldn’t go to Virginia Beach without stopping to see Perry, so he picked up a box of bear claws from Mac’s Bakery on the way out of town.
    Almost two hours later he pulled up in front of Perry Von’s office. It was just a little shotgun house-turned-office building, but it served the purpose. Mike walked inside to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee and an adorable little blonde working Perry’s phone.
    “He in?” Mike asked.
    “Yes, sir.”
    Mike’s ego deflated a little. Sir? Really ? He eased on past the girl, went into Perry’s office, and dropped the bakery box on the desk. “Better than doughnuts. This is what guys in your line of work eat, right?”
    “I think you mean our line of work. I see all those years in the Marines couldn’t grind the smart-ass out of you.”
    “Never at risk.” Mike opened the box and stuffed half a bear claw into his mouth. “You’re one to talk.”
    “I’m sure Riley would agree with you on that one.”
    “Where is that beautiful wife of yours? Didn’t you tell her I was coming to town this morning? Or are you keeping us apart so she doesn’t fall for a real man?”
    “She’s in Nashville with Kasey. Again. You know those two are inseparable. I’m on my own this week.”
    “Not totally alone.” Mike lowered his voice. “When’d you get the cute secretary? And does Riley know about her?”
    “That’s Riley’s handiwork. When she heard Mrs. Reynolds was going to Nebraska to help her daughter for a few weeks, she offered up the position to one of the local college kids.”
    “Tell Riley she can hire workers for me anytime, and since the little woman is out of town, you can buy me dinner