Undercover Justice. Nico Rosso

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      TWO HOURS DRIVING through the early morning in a “stolen” car with Arash had stripped the insulation from her defenses. The chase through San Francisco hadn’t rattled her as much as the cautious conversations they’d used to learn about each other. Not that either was revealing all their truths. She knew he was hiding as much of himself as she was, though he probably wasn’t working secretly for an underground vigilante group. But she kept having to remind herself that this man, who listened with interest when she spoke, was part of the evil she was tasked with defeating.

      “The next right.” Arash’s low, gravelly voice was more suited to the bedroom. He’d navigated them off the highway and toward a generic Sacramento suburb. The light from his phone revealed weary eyes. He took a long breath and sat up straighter, rallying. More life shined in his expression as he scanned the area.

      She reset her focus. A new day was about to begin. She was about to meet Olesk. Any mistakes she made now would be deadly.

      The workday around them had started before the sun, with cars and trucks and vans already on the road. The neighborhood she turned into seemed like it was still sleeping. Lights off. Cars cold. She tried to predict which house was her target but couldn’t make any of them seem more criminal than another. Olesk was slick.

      But not perfect. “I see it.” She aimed for a two-story house covered in taupe stucco. A pickup truck parked on the street in front of it had a wider stance than what rolled off the factory floor.

      Arash chuckled. “You’re good.” He put his phone away. “Someone threw some spacers on their pickup wheels.”

      “The only nonstock car on the block.” She slowed the Mercedes and turned into the driveway. As soon as they crossed the sidewalk, the garage door opened. A line of white light widened ahead, until the space inside the two-car garage was completely exposed. A sport-tuned compact import car took up one spot.

      “I hope they have a real shop to work in.” Arash cocked his head with a disapproving frown.

      She pulled in next to the cluttered workbench, with only basic tools and a scattering of bottles of motor oil and detailing supplies. If Olesk and his crew were breaking down cars, they were doing it somewhere else. Nothing in the garage seemed illegal. Stacks of boxes, a rolling rack hanging with clothes covered in plastic. All perfectly normal to anyone who might be driving or walking past when the door was open.

      The Mercedes purred to a stop and she shut it down. She didn’t have a moment to take a breath with the resting car before the garage door started closing behind her and Arash. He swung out of the car and faced a door at the back of the garage. She could see that the car ride hadn’t locked him up too much. His body was balanced, ready.

      She took her time, collecting her bag from the back seat before getting out of her Mercedes one last time.

      The door at the back of the garage opened. A tall white man in his thirties with shaggy blond hair filled the frame. His head was cocked to one side confidently, like he was looking at a piece of art he already understood. While his smile was friendly enough, if a little aloof, his eyes were hard. When he stepped down into the garage, Stephanie saw that a woman stood behind him. Blunt bangs dyed dark blue and a high black ponytail. This white woman in her late twenties didn’t move into the garage, but stared long, her mouth a thin line.

      “Arash, Stephanie.” The man moved closer, hand extended. “Ronald Olesk.” Arash stepped to him and shook his hand. Stephanie did the same, happy it was just a brusque gesture, without a lingering touch. Olesk checked his watch. “Right on time.” His smile cooled. “Heard there was a little extra rubber laid on the ground.”

      “We handled it.” Arash shrugged it off.

      Stephanie tipped her chin up, not backing down from Olesk. “Just a little something to get the blood flowing.” The first step of her mission was in play. Now that she knew this location, she could start to put a target on Olesk’s back. But taking him down wouldn’t give her what she ultimately wanted. This deadly game wasn’t going to end quickly.

      “You have good taste.” Olesk put his hands on his hips and assessed the Mercedes.

      “I do.” She nudged the car with her hip, sorry to see it go.

      The woman in the doorway craned her neck to look in. “Did you nick the fob off of someone?” She had an English accent and a judgmental sneer.

      Stephanie answered as dryly as she could. “I pulled the factory key code off the CAN bus.”

      “She’s got the tech.” Arash hooked a thumb toward Stephanie with a grin. “Thing of beauty.” His energy was so different than the other two. Comfortable and loose, he didn’t have to posture to prove he was tough.

      The woman in the doorway narrowed her eyes on Stephanie, ignoring Arash. Olesk chuckled and said to Stephanie, “You’ll have to show Ellie that trick.”

      “After some sleep.” It might be Olesk’s crew, but she didn’t have to act like a minion.

      “Of course.” Olesk waved his hand toward the doorway. Ellie slipped away into the house. Stephanie stepped first to the door. As Arash passed Olesk, the blond man put his hand out. “You have my paperwork?”

      Arash pulled the folded page from his jacket and slapped it into Olesk’s palm. It might’ve just been early-morning frayed nerves, but the move seemed somewhat aggressive to Stephanie, though Arash kept the smile in his eyes. If Olesk felt it the way she did, he didn’t show it.

      Olesk unfolded the paper and looked it over, nodding. “You guys deliver good stuff.”

      Arash picked up one of the empty bottles of motor oil from the workbench as he passed it. “I hope you didn’t bring me here just to do oil changes.” He tossed the bottle back; it clunked against the others, knocking them over in a noise too loud for this hour of the morning.

      Olesk stopped walking and both Stephanie and Arash turned to him. Warning tension prickled up her spine. Her back was to the open doorway where Ellie had disappeared. Olesk ran his hand through his hair in what appeared to be a practiced move. “We’re the Slick Track Racers,” he explained. “Anyone mentions STR and you know that we’re the best at stealing cars, breaking down cars, fixing them up, moving them without being caught.” He took a dramatic pause. “Sometimes we do oil changes. Sometimes we get paid a lot of money to get someone’s merchandise from one place to another without a scratch, and without anyone knowing anything about it.”

      She forced a casual look on her face while her blood boiled. The merchandise he was talking about were human beings, people trafficked by the Seventh Syndicate.

      “I’m here for all that.” Arash nodded with approval, lowering her opinion of him.

      “Good.” Olesk waved them toward the doorway again and they all moved into a featureless mudroom. “Because we need reliable people for a very important gig.” They passed a laundry room, then emerged into the kitchen. Empty packages of convenience food were stacked on the counters. There was no aroma of fresh cooking. “We had a problem with a conscience.” Olesk drew a horizontal line in the air with a long finger, as if demarking a border. “And we don’t want those.”

      Ellie emerged from the other side of the kitchen with two white envelopes. She handed them to Stephanie and Arash, eyes still wary.

      Olesk СКАЧАТЬ