And I crossed my fingers and hoped like hell that we were quick enough to catch the bastard.

CHAPTER 9

Risley Street was narrow and lined with warehouses on one side and a parking lot on the other. At the far end, there was a small park surrounding a high-rise building—community housing, I knew, having seen the ugly design in other inner-city areas.

Jackson and I climbed over the fence protecting the vacant lot opposite the park, then ran for the nearest building. I was once again wearing my shoes, but I’d burned a hole in the left one to take the pressure off my injured digit and, in case that wasn’t enough, was keeping it fire rather than flesh. If anyone happened to be looking our way, they’d catch little more than a flicker of light no bigger than a match flame. It was better that than being left in the car because I couldn’t damn well walk properly.

We pressed against the sidewall of a graffiti-covered building and peered down the narrow lane that divided the Risley Street buildings from those of the street behind it.

No cars, Jackson said. And no lights evident in any of the buildings.

I hope Frederick wasn’t feeding us a lie.

I doubt he was capable of even thinking up a lie, Jackson said. There’s another fence to climb—barbed wire on top.

I hated barbed wire. No matter how careful I was, the damn stuff always snagged either me or my clothes. Anything we can use to throw over it?

Nothing I can immediately see.

Well, fuck. I took a deep breath and released it slowly. I could no doubt melt the damn wire, but that might just give Rinaldo a warning that we were coming. Go. I’ll follow.

He disappeared around the corner; a heartbeat later, there was a slight rattle as he climbed the fence. I scanned the area for any unwanted interest in what we were doing, and then followed him. The barbed wire snagged his jacket and ripped one side open as I jumped down on the other side.

Sorry about that. I tucked the torn bit under the T-shirt I was now wearing.

He shrugged. It’s only a jacket.

Yeah, but it’s a nice one.

His grin flashed. So buy me a replacement. Or compensate me in some other way.

Now that’s the Jackson I know and love.

Seriousness can only last so long. He paused. Which isn’t to say I’m not still furious over what happened—

To both of us, I cut in softly. And we’ll talk, but not now.

He didn’t say anything to that, and I had to wonder if talking was something he was actually willing to do.

We moved on, keeping close to the grimy, graffiti-strewn redbrick wall. Rinaldo’s warehouse began at the end of it. Beyond it lay a more modern-looking building; then the lane swept around the corner and joined Risley Street.