Staying Cool by E. C. Sheedy Page A

warming."
    Of course, if the sex angle failed, she might have to kill the bastard. But so be it. There was a first time for everything.
    You're damn cavalier about killing someone, Gina Argento; maybe you've been in the game too long. Getting cold. Getting callous.
    She lifted her head off the steering wheel. "I said might ," she argued with her coward self. "Might."
    If he finds out who I am, what I want...
    Her heart thudded and hurtled in her chest, like a boulder thundering down a hill.
    Coleman had already tried to kill Marco, and he'd do her in a nanosecond if he perceived her as a threat. And if it came down to him or her, she had to be prepared for it. Her next thought was how pissed off Tanner would be. Coleman ending up dead would draw heat and attention, both of which he took great pains to avoid.
    Tanner wanted Coleman for his own reasons, and worthy reasons, they were, but all Gina wanted was Marco safe from a dangerous and determined predator.
    If that took sleeping with the devil—or killing him—that's what she'd do.
    * * *
    From a safe distance, Patrick watched Silver get out of her car.
    That she was tall, slender, and blond was all he could make out. Head down and shoulders hunched against the rain, she hurried into the house. Tiny and ranch-style, it wasn't the kind of place where he'd expect a classy hooker to live. Nor did the neighborhood fit the image. Middle class all the way, one tidy home after another, on a tree-lined street. Not luxurious, but a big step up from his place: a one-bedroom apartment over an Asian corner store.
    A series of lights came on in the house, then a couple of them went out. It looked as if she'd settled in. Patrick moved the Ford to a spot where he could keep an eye on the house and hear the Mercedes if she started it up again. Almost one a.m. After marking the time in a small notebook, he rolled his shoulders. He had a long stakeout ahead of him, which had him wishing like hell that he'd picked up a coffee on the way. His caffeine level was dangerously low.
    His cell phone rang.
    "Byrne," he answered.
    "Where is she?" It was Coleman. Jesus, the guy must be obsessed. This was his second call in the last three hours.
    "Home. And for the night, it looks like."
    "Address."
    Patrick reeled off the street and house number.
    Coleman paused. "And before that?"
    "Exactly where you said she'd be."
    The silence on Coleman's side of the phone stretched out, then, "Good enough. You're done."
    What the hell? "The contract is for a week's surveillance."
    "You'll be reimbursed as agreed. Just move on. Now."
    A week's pay for a day's work? It sounded good, but it also made ye olde cop nose twitch. "Okay by me."
    "I thought it would be." The phone went dead.
    Patrick clicked OFF, tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, and put his hand on the key still in the ignition. Didn't turn it. His other hand on the wheel, he tapped the leather with his thumb. The engine didn't turn over, but his mind did.
    He started the car, drove around the block, parked, and got out. In under three minutes, he was back outside Silver's house, standing behind a tree, getting his ass soaked. All the lights in her house were now out. He pulled his collar up against the rain and rubbed his hands together for warmth.
    If he was right, he wouldn't have to wait long.
    Turned out he was right.

 
     
     
    Chapter 2

     
    Gina curled into herself under a down quilt, convinced she wouldn't sleep no matter how exhausted she was. But sleep was necessary, as was being sharp tomorrow. Seducing the enemy was no small task. She closed her eyes against the repellant image and focused on the sound of wind and rain against the window, determined to force herself to sl —
    A big, hard hand clapped over her mouth. Her eyes flew open to stare into a shadowed face.
    "Don't want to do. Sorry. I be fast. Won't take long." The voice was foreign, soft. The breath was last night's garlic.
    She strained against his grip, screamed. The