for anything that would connect to her.
The discovery of the body she’d left in her L.A. apartment had warranted a three-inch article buried deep in the L.A. Times. She’d hoped that a revelation of the assassin’s identity would provide clues to her own. She’d even called the news desk at the Times on a couple of occasions, talked to the crime reporter who had covered the story. By feeding him some careful details, she was able to whet his interest enough to have him digging further. But the dead man had remained a John Doe, and the case had eventually been shelved as unsolved. The only thing of value she’d learned was that neither of their fingerprints had been on file in the national Automated Fingerprint Identification System. Whoever the would-be killer had been, his death had caused as little stir as had her own disappearance.
Because new identities didn’t come cheap, she’d used almost every dime she had left on establishing hers. And she’d been aided, at first unknowingly, by the one person who’d been allowed to get halfway close to her, Benny Zappa.
Something inside her softened at the thought of Benny, with his gangly scarecrow walk and too large Adam’s apple. His narrow black-rimmed glasses had been meant to be stylish, but they couldn’t disguise what he was—a computer geek through and through, and proud of his abilities, if not of the persona that he could never quite shed. In his awkward, bumbling way he’d offered to help her—in an attempt to hit on her, she’d thought. And at first she’d seen his shy overtures through purely shrewd eyes, as a means to an end. It wasn’t until later that she discovered in the process she’d made an invaluable friend.
His genius with computers was coupled with a hacker’s love of a challenge. No database—university, state or federal—seemed impenetrable with him at the keyboard. With the information he was able to access for her, she’d chosen a new identity and followed every lead she could think of. And what she appreciated most about him, in all this time, was his willingness to use his skills without asking questions she had no intentions of answering.
Although he must have put some details together about what drove her, he didn’t press her about it, and she appreciated his discretion as much as his friendship.
Refilling her cup, she sipped, watching the river churn sluggishly by, as evening turned to dusk. If she headed back now she could get a couple hours of work in. Not at the sheriff’s office, but in the office she’d set up in a spare bedroom in the house she’d bought in Tripolo.
Each lead she’d followed about her identity, every fact she’d discovered, was carefully encrypted and kept on her home computer. After six years she had a substantial file with a copy downloaded to CD monthly and sent to a mail drop across the country for safekeeping. So far she had plenty of dead ends, plenty of threads that apparently went nowhere. But she wasn’t giving up. She’d never give up.
There were some who would consider her existence lonely. But she thought she must be used to being alone, because it had never bothered her overmuch in the last half-dozen years. What had seemed strange was the openhearted generosity of Luz, the puppy-dog friendliness of Benny. The fact that Ria had first regarded both of them with suspicion was surely an indictment of who, or what, she’d been.
Catching the waitress’s attention, she summoned her over, ready to leave. Whatever else she’d learned about herself, she wasn’t one to make the same mistake twice. Benny lived halfway across the country and she was excruciatingly careful on the rare occasions she allowed herself to contact him on an untraceable cell phone. She didn’t think she’d be able to bear it if another person died because of her.
“Oh, there’s no bill, ma’am,” the waitress said. “Jake said it’s on the house.”
Jake. She’d like to pretend she’d already forgotten him, but she wasn’t in the habit of lying to herself. He’d hovered in the back of her mind since he’d left, a haunting reminder of a fascinating man she would never see again. Ria opened her purse, took out some bills. “I told him that wasn’t necessary. I’d like to pay for my own meal. Could you please tell me how much it was?”
But the woman was backing away, a faintly alarmed expression on her face. “Oh, no, ma’am, I couldn’t do that. Jake said specifically, and ’round here, we do what he says.”
With a mental shrug, Ria gave up. She folded the bills and handed them to the server. “Then this is for you.”
The woman gave her a shocked look, but whisked them into a pocket in her apron quickly enough. “Thank you, ma’am. Hope you come back real soon.”
But thoughts of returning were far from Ria’s mind as she made her way to the large parking lot outside, keys in her hand. It was full now, much more crowded than it had been when she’d arrived. Walking purposefully toward her car, she heard her cell phone ring and took it from her purse, checking the caller ID. Eldon Croat. With a grimace, she decided against answering it. Tomorrow would be soon enough to meet with the county commissioner and try to talk him out of the press conference he’d want to call about the latest drug busts. Even after all these years, and the attempts she’d taken to change her appearance, she was leery about getting—
He seemed to come out of nowhere, looming from between two cars and taking quick steps toward her. Her hands were full, slowing her response, and before she could react he was behind her, grabbing her nape and smashing her face into the roof of her car.
It was telling in that instant, with stars bursting behind her eyes, that her first thought was of the assassins. And that they’d finally caught up with her.
Chapter 2
Jake Tarrance cruised into the lot and pulled into his private parking spot. Not even to himself was he willing to admit he’d hurried through the problem-solving meeting this evening. It was doubtful the copper-haired woman with the incredible eyes was still at Hoochees, even more doubtful that she’d changed her mind about keeping him company. Still, the memory of taut curves and a tight body had him dispatching his troublesome supplier, Roy Hastings, more quickly than usual. Tonight’s solution had been temporary, at best. Hastings was getting to be too much a liability. And Jake had no conscience about dispensing with liabilities.
There were some who would swear he had no conscience at all. More and more frequently these days, he was inclined to agree.
Lights were visible from the security booth installed in the center of the lot, but he didn’t see anyone inside. He got out of the car with his hand on the gun nestled at the base of his back. Security might be making rounds, but for a man with a price on his head, caution was a way of life.
After taking a couple of steps, he paused, hearing sounds of a struggle. He withdrew the gun and thumbed off the safety, running in that direction.
He didn’t have to go far before he saw the fight going on. He reholstered the gun and reached for his cell phone to alert the still-absent security. But in the next second Jake realized the struggle involved a man and woman, and something inside him went glacial. The phone remained in his pocket. He’d deal with the matter himself.
Racing forward, he became aware of two things simultaneously. One was that the guy was definitely getting the worst end of the battle; the second was that the female beating the hell out of him was none other than the intriguing woman he’d shared a drink with.
The other man rushed at her, his head lowered. She kicked out, catching him in the jaw with enough force to snap his head back. The blow made him stagger, and he stumbled against a nearby car. While he leaned there dazedly, she closed the distance between them, grabbed his shirt to pull him forward and rammed her knee into his groin.
