Alex swung over the curb and swore. He couldn’t leave her in the car here, damn it. Any of the hustlers or junkies on the streets would take one look, then eat her alive.

“You listen to me.” He turned, leaning over the seat to make his point. “Stay close to me, and keep your mouth shut. No questions, no comments.”

“All right, but where—”

“No questions.” He slammed out of his door, then waited for her. With his hand firm on her arm, he hauled her to the sidewalk. “If you step out of line, I swear, I’ll slap the cuffs on you.”

“Romantic, isn’t he?” she said to Judd. “Just sends shivers down my spine.”

“Keep a lid on it, McNee,” Alex told her, refusing to be amused. He pulled her through a grimy door into an airless shop.

It took her a minute to get her bearings in the dim light. There were shelves and shelves crowded with dusty merchandise. Radios, picture frames, kitchenware. A tuba. A huge glass display counter with a diagonal crack across it dominated one wall. Security glass ran to the ceiling. Cutting through it was a window, like a bank teller’s, studded with bars.

“A pawnshop,” Bess said, with such obvious delight that Alex snarled at her.

“One word about atmosphere, I’ll clobber you.”

But she was already dragging out her notebook. “Go ahead, do what you have to do. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Sure, he thought. How would anyone know she was there, simply because that sunshine scent of hers cut right through the grime and must? He stepped up to the counter just as a scrawny man in a loose white shirt came through the rear door.

“Stanislaski.”

“Boomer. What have you got for me?”

Grinning, Boomer passed a hand over his heavily greased black hair. “Come on, I got some good stuff, and you know I make a point of cooperating with the law. But a man’s got to make a living.”

“You make one ripping off every poor slob who walks through the door.”

“Aw, now you hurt my feelings.” Boomer’s pale blue eyes glittered. “Rookie?” he asked, nodding at Judd.

“He used to be.”

After an appraising look, Boomer glanced over at Bess. She was busy poking through his merchandise. “Looks like I got me a customer. Hang on.”

“She’s with me.” Alex shot him a knife-edged look that forestalled any questions. “Just forget she’s here.”

Boomer had already appraised the trio of rings on Bess’s right hand, and the blue topaz drops at her ears. He sighed his disappointment. “You’re the boss, Stanislaski. But listen, I like to be discreet.”

Alex leaned on the counter, like a man ready to shoot the bull for hours. His voice was soft, and deadly. “Jerk my chain, Boomer, and I’m going to have to come down here and take a hard look at what you keep in that back room.”

“Stock. Just stock.” But he grinned. He didn’t have any illusions about Alex. Boomer knew when he was detested, but he also knew they had an agreement of sorts. And, thus far, it had been advantageous to both of them. “I got something on those hookers that got sliced up.”