His protestations were just making her more wary. “What’s he being charged with?”

“Tax evasion. He owes enough that the judge set his bail high.”

That was promisingly non-violent. “Send over his file, and we’ll consider it.”

Barney’s grunt didn’t sound too happy that she wasn’t accepting the job immediately, but he just said, “Fine,” and hung up.

Cara had barely gotten into her car before her phone alerted her that she had an email. Still suspicious why Barney was so desperate to have them bring in a simple tax-evading skip, rather than siccing his own bounty-hunting dogs on the guy, she opened the file on her phone. After scanning the information, she was frowning more deeply. The skip, Geoffrey Abbott, appeared to be an easy job on the surface, but the name teased her brain. It sounded oddly familiar.

Setting down her phone, she turned on her car, eager to get home and research the guy. He might be just what she was looking for to replace Henry Kavenski as her first successful capture. Her mood lifting for the first time since Stuart had popped out of the shadows, she backed out of her parking space and headed home.

* * *

Climbing out of her car, she paused, pretending to check her phone as she fought to push away the urge to jump back in and drive away as fast as she could. She’d only been to Dutch’s Bar once, but that had been in the middle of the day with Molly. At night, it was exponentially creepier. The warehouses surrounding the bar seemed to loom over the space, creating shadowed places where any number of dangerous people could be lurking. The bar, which had looked nondescript and slightly dingy in the full sunlight, now gave off a menacing air, making Cara sure she wouldn’t be welcome or safe there. That didn’t matter, though. She was determined to follow through on this job, and that meant checking out his possible hangouts…including Dutch’s.

She slid her hand over the lump the Taser made in her jacket pocket. The presence of the weapon gave her courage, and she pulled up the photo of Geoffrey Abbott, getting his image freshly lodged in her brain. Slipping her phone back in her other pocket—the Taser-less one—she pulled back her shoulders and strode toward the entrance.

Her confidence wavered as the bouncer eyed her suspiciously, his sharp gaze running over her as if he could see the Taser despite it being hidden in her jacket pocket. She hoped that he wouldn’t conduct a pat down, and then wondered if that would be legal for a civilian. Making a mental note to look up the Colorado statute as soon as she had a quiet moment, she focused on the big guy in front of her.

His hand extended, palm out, and Cara offered her driver’s license, bracing herself for what she knew was coming. Even though she was legal by almost four full years, she was used to the disbelieving squints. Her small stature and baby face—including dimples—made her appear younger than she was. She’d pulled her dark hair back into a severe bun, to keep it out of grabbing range as well as to make her look more like a serious professional, and she hoped it didn’t make her look like a teenager playing dress-up.