Page 65 of Missing Justice

Don’t let him steal the briefcase!

Her job, as well as the life of an innocent boy, depended on the information she had in it.

Of course, Ski Mask could be the key to both as well.

She sent another roundhouse kick at him, knocking the briefcase from his hands. The case slid under her car.

Safe.

It might be safe, but she wasn’t.

It was time to end this escapade.

Another growl erupted from Ski Mask’s mouth as he lunged at her. Taylor had just enough time to send an elbow toward his face, connecting with his cheek.

He saw it coming and deftly avoided the worst of the jab, knocking her onto the trunk of her car.

“Hey!” she heard a man yell from the area near the elevators. “Let go of her!”

The security guard must have seen them on the video feed.

Better late than never.

Ski Mask grabbed her ponytail and jerked her head back, his mouth coming close to her ear. “You’re screwed, bitch. I’m going to make you pay.”

He slammed her forehead down onto the car twice in quick succession. As Taylor’s vision whited out, she heard the security guard’s footsteps running toward her as the heavy thud of Ski Mask’s boots went the other way.

Her legs wouldn’t hold her and she slipped to the ground, blackness taking her under.

* * *

Taylor was banged up good. At least she’d had the sense to call him. She sat in the back of an ambulance summoned by the security guard, arguing the whole time with an EMT surveying the damage to her forehead.

“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s barely a scrape.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“I don’t. Not even dizzy.”

“Taylor,” Matt said. “Quit breaking the guy’s balls and let him do his job.”

“I’m not going to the hospital. This is silly. I’m sure someone, somewhere in this city, just got shot. You guys should be treatingthatperson, not me.”

The corner of the EMT’s mouth quirked. Encouraging her pissy behavior by laughing wouldn’t help.

“Look,” the guy said, “I can’t force you to go to the hospital. All I can do is recommend it. Which I do. Strongly.”

Taylor waved a hand. “Yep. Got it. You’re off the hook. Now let me out of here.”

The guy looked at Matt, his face a cross between frustration and good-luck-pal. “She’s all yours.”

Matt whipped out a toothy smile. “Thanks for that.”

The EMT helped Taylor off the back of the bus and she immediately started moving toward her car where a DC cop waited.

“We put out a BOLO,” the cop said, “but…”

“I know,” Taylor said. “It’s not likely my guy is running through the streets of DC in a ski mask, leaving a nice breadcrumb trail of blood from his bullet wound for us to follow.”