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Cobble thought he’d mastered the art of patience over the past fourteen years, but waiting for Andy to arrive back from her meeting had him pacing and swearing, even though he was currently in contact.

“Don’t worry,” she told him as he strode back and forth across the floor.

Right. Why was he so anxious, anyway? Andy had finished the meeting, gotten her car on the road, and she’d called him exactly as he’d requested. She actually sounded upbeat at the moment, still reassuring him.

“Mistah Prancingdeer and Mistah Seingold are tailing me, and…” She trailed off, humming strangely.

“Andy? What’s wrong?” He knew that overbright reaction of hers, and it was hiding something.

“Not a thing,” she stated heartily.

“Bullshit,” Cobble returned, his guts twisting into knots. “I know you. What aren’t you telling me?”

He heard a huge sigh.

“Well, there might be a gray sedan on my tail, but if that’s the case and I’m not imagining it, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Seriously?” Cobble spouted. “Do you need me to meet you somewhere?”

“Uv course not, doll.”

Her reply—which had incorporated the accent that popped out whenever she was nervous or excited—did nothing to dispel the dread rising in Cobble’s stomach.

She went on breezily. “Youze are on Bluetooth, so don’t worry. And I have my hands at ten and two.”

Cobble was not comforted.

“How about I come get you?” he barked. He didn’t have a car, but he’d damned well find one. He couldn’t simply sit and wait. He wanted to be at Andy’s side, protecting her. Which was completely irrational, since—as she’d told him many times—she’d been taking care of herself for years. But flying solo was no longer necessary. Cobble wasn’t stuck in East Bumfuck anymore; he was within striking distance of Andy’s position, and he couldn’t abide the thought of her handling danger by herself.

“That’s nice of you, Cobble, but no,” she told him.

“Do you need to call your guys, then?” He couldn’t let it go.

“Chill, Cobble. I don’t have to call them, I have them on comms. And they’re the ones who told me I’m being followed.”

What the fuck ?

This clearly wasn’t the right time to get into semantics, but…

“Which one is it, Andy?” Cobble growled. “First you said you ‘might’ have a tail, now you’re saying you are being followed.”

“Fine,” she groused. “There’s definitely someone on my ass. But so far, whoever it is seems to be staying outta my line of sight, and of course,” she laughed, “they have no idea that my guys are up their tailpipe.” She snickered. “They’re driving a shitty white Camry and an old blue Civic. My stalker isn’t gonna notice them in traffic.”

At least that was something.

“So, what’s your move?” Cobble asked nervously, making another pass across the living room. It was a good thing Tucker was going to tear this bungalow down. Cobble’s relentless pacing was going to wear a hole in the floor.

“Drive around for a while,” Andy replied nonchalantly. “Lead whoever it is in the opposite direction from where you’re staying. Then once me and the boys get the suspect out of the city, I’m gonna play his ass.”

“Play his ass, how?” Did Cobble even want to know?

She chuckled. “I bet you don’t know that a few years back I participated in a defensive driving course. And I don’t mean the kind the RMV makes new drivers take. I’m talking the evasive maneuvers kind.”

That didn’t do much to calm Cobble. “Wouldn’t any agent who is after you have taken that same course?” he rebutted.

“Yeah, but not to get cocky. I taught the class, and I’m better than whoever it is.”

Cobble detected a smirk in Andy’s voice.

He was glad one of them was enjoying themselves.

Cobble tried again. “It won’t do me a bit of good to ask you to let Wiley and Billboard handle this, will it?” he posed as a last-ditch effort.

“Not remotely,” she confirmed. “I want to nail this SOB.”

“Where are you now?” Cobble asked, needing to keep track of something .

“Chelsea, headed north toward Boxford. Mistah Seingold says there’s a buncha roads there where we can test our perp’s skills; fairly remote, windy, and unpopulated. It’s only a few miles of rough pavement, but I think that should be enough.”

She sounded positively gleeful.

“What happens then?” Cobble held his breath.

“I’m gonna test this guy’s driving skills. See if he can keep up.”

Cobble groaned. “Andy. Please don’t do anything stupid.”

“Who, me?” she responded cheerfully, then a second later, she laughed. “Mistah Seingold says not to worry. I’m not the one who’ll be ass over teakettle in the end.”

“Yeah. That makes me feel a lot better,” Cobble moaned.

“Don’t worry, doll. The idea here isn’t to get anybuddy hurt, but to make sure I leave my erstwhile hanger-on in the dust, then my two partners will move in and nail the prick’s heinie to the asphalt.”

That sounded…okay, Cobble guessed. He attempted to concentrate on logistics in order to keep his hands from shaking.

“How long before you get to the spot where you think you can lose your shadow?”

“Twenty-eight minutes. If I obey the speed limit,” she answered cheekily.

“So, twenty minutes,” Cobble amended with a huff.

“Give or take,” Andy confirmed, not sounding at all penitent. “Do you wanna stay on the line, or have me call you back when it’s all ovah?”

“Don’t you dare hang up,” Cobble barked, then softened his stance. “Unless I’m going to distract you.”

“Are you kidding? Hearing your voice cheering me on will be the delicious icing on the frickin’ cake.”

****

Cobble couldn’t even say what they talked about over the next quarter hour, but he knew the minute Andy left the highway and found that deserted stretch of winding roads.

“Okay. Here we go.” She switched things up to talk to Wiley. “Mistah Prancingdeer, I now have eyes on that gray sedan. Good job pickin’ it out of a crowd. It’s certainly nothing special.”

There was silence for a moment while Wiley obviously replied.

Andy snorted and filled Cobble in. “He sez the black-out windows were a dead give-away.”

“Yeah. That’d do it,” Cobble sniffed. Damn , he wanted to have eyes on this operation.

“Okay. I’m pedal to the metal,” Andy gave warning, then…

“Wheee!”

Cobble didn’t want to ask just how fast she was going. Andy needed to keep her attention focused on the road since she was clearly flying.

“Oh, they know they’ve been made, now,” she finally stated gleefully. “They’re keeping up. Mistah Seingold, Mistah Prancingdeer. Hang back. I can see youze, which means our perp can too if he looks back. There’s no need to alert him that three of us are on the road. I’ll let you know when he reaches the limit of his skills, then I’ll boogie off, and you can take ovah.”

If that was the plan, it meant Andy was even now picking up her pace.

Cobble held his breath.

He heard wheels screech; he heard Andy chuckle. Cobble was glad someone was relaxed enough to be amused.

“Two wheels on that cornah,” Andy whooped, then less than a minute later he heard, “Oh, yeah? It’s gonna be like that?”

“What?” Cobble couldn’t stay quiet.

“He’s decided to play tag,” she apprised, without an ounce of fear in her voice. “He just tried to ram my bumper, but because I have more in the tank than he knows, I hit the gas and his kiss only amounted to an itty-bitty love tap.”

Cobble swallowed. He wasn’t liking this one bit.

“Huh. Wouldn’t you know it,” she said amusedly. “The asshole’s coming back fah more. Well, it’s time to make him eat it.” Her tone grew sharp. “Wiles, BB, there’s a sharp curve coming up. I’m going to use it.”

Cobble knew Andy was concentrating hard because it was one of the only times he’d ever heard her call her operatives by anything other than their last names.

“I’m going to slow down and let him catch up to me just before the bend,” she continued, telling them her thoughts. “He’ll think I’m too chicken to take the turn fast, which will be his mistake. When he gets within inches of my ass, I’ll punch it and do a controlled slide, which will move me sideways out of his hit-zone. He’ll shit his pants when he finds out there’s no bumper to tap, and his unchecked momentum will send him into a spin.

“While he’s trying to recover, I’ll goose it and find a place to hide. Then he’ll be all yours, youze guys.”

Even though Cobble couldn’t hear the response from the pair, he imagined it was in the affirmative because the next thing he knew…

“Here we go,” she hooted.

Cobble closed his eyes and pictured it, hoping that if he made shit happen successfully in his head—just as she’d described it—it would assure that the stratagem worked.

“Suweeet!” she chortled a minute later, and if Cobble weren’t so scared, he’d be totally turned on by her badassery.

The seconds after her cry of glee seemed to draw out forever until—

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit,” Andy screeched.

“Dammit,” Cobble yelled. “Are you okay?” He couldn’t keep a lid on his angst any longer.

“Yeah. I’m fine, and clear. But the dumb-ass just plowed straight into a tree,” Andy told him. “I’m heading back.”

“Have your gun ready,” Cobble cried out.

Andy actually snorted after a short silence. “Really? All three of you are going to tell me my business like a freakin’ chorus?”

Cobble would thank the pair of SOS operatives later.

“My Glock is in my hand,” she assured them all.

That made Cobble feel a little better.

“Cobble. Listen. I’m not trying to ditch you, but I’m at the site of the crash, and I’m ten seconds from getting out of my car. That means I’m probably going to lose you since you’re on Bluetooth, so…”

“Don’t hang up,” Cobble yelped hurriedly. “I’ll be able to hear at least something if you leave the line open.”

If it were a gunshot, though, he might just die of fright.

“Okay. But please don’t panic.” Yeah. She knew how he rolled. “I’ll be fine.”

Fingers crossed.

Cobble heard the click of her seatbelt, then…

He pictured her door opening, her weapon in hand, raised. He imagined her going over to the wrecked car, and…that’s all he had.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, he heard her voice. Then he heard male voices. Was it her SOS teammates? Was it the traitor or traitors in the car?

At least there hadn’t been a shoot-out. That had to count for something.

****

Missy approached the smashed up, smoking vehicle cautiously, gun poised.

There was no movement within that she could see, but with a lot of the black-out glass smashed and spidered, it was difficult to tell if anyone inside was stirring.

Behind her she heard a couple cars skid to a stop. She knew it was Billboard and Wiley, but she wasn’t going to wait for back-up. After so many years of murder and frustration, she needed to see who was inside. Right the hell now.

Keeping her firearm raised, she reached for the passenger side back door handle closest to her. The one at the front would have been her first choice, but it was quite obviously too crumpled to be operational.

“On three,” she mumbled to herself. “One… Two…” She yanked the door open, ducked inside, and …

“Man down,” she yelled to Wiley and Billboard who were closing in fast.

Andy stashed her weapon in her underarm holster and scrambled forward on her knees. There wasn’t much room to wiggle. The whole left side of the vehicle had accordioned to the point where the back seat was smushed up against the rear of the driver’s position. She was just able to position herself mid-chassis. She glanced over the seat.

The driver was slumped over the wheel, his chest clearly compressed from the crash.

Son of a …

“Who is it?” Wiley asked from behind her. “Can you tell? Is he alive?”

Andy growled. “Fuck. It’s Oliphant, and it sure looks like…”

An agonizingly wet wheeze came out of the trapped man.

Still alive .

Andy didn’t give a fuck that he was in pain and probably close to death. The asshole had made everyone’s lives suck for nearly a decade and a half.

There was only one thing she wanted from him before he took his last breath.

Andy reached over and grabbed him by the hair, jerking his head back.

His eyes barely focused on hers.

“Is Beranger working with you?” she growled, giving him a shake.

A bloody smile appeared on Oliphant’s lips. “That…asshole? Don’t…make me…laugh.” He choked, then gasped for air. “He’s just…stupid prick.”

“Who, then?” Andy demanded. “Who in the FBI?” She manhandled him again.

“Fuck…you,” Oliphant managed, coughing the words out weakly.

Before she could get anything else out of him, his eyes widened, a final breath escaped from between his lips, and his body went completely slack.

“Goddammit.” Andy slammed the man’s head back into the steering wheel, snarling.

She inched her way from the car, fuming.

“Well?” Billboard asked when she finally had her feet on terra firma.

Andy was pissed. She hated that Oliphant had escaped justice, but she hoped he rotted in hell for all of eternity.

“You want the good news?” she asked Billboard.

“Yeah,” Wiley spoke for both of them.

“The prick is dead.”

“And the bad news,” Billboard asked.

Andy glowered. “Beranger isn’t our man.”