I WAS SUPPOSED to meet her at a parking lot. From there, we’d walk to a newly opened club a block away. This area of downtown Miami was peppered with office towers and didn’t see much of a nightlife. Scores of lights illuminated every building, but the sidewalks and roads were nearly empty, giving the street an eerie, deserted look. I shivered and blamed the cooler night air. The Metromover whirred past, making me jump.

As we approached the parking lot, Jaz spoke. “So you’re okay with the plan, right?”

“Meet her out front and cut down the laneway to the east. If she balks at taking the service road, circle the block and you’ll grab her from the other end of the lane.”

“Good, good.”

Another half-block, then he laid his hand on my arm. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay, Hope?”

“I’m not—”

He stepped in front and lowered his face closer to mine. Worry creased a line between his eyes. “I mean it. Please, please, please, don’t screw this up. I made a deal with Sonny. He’s not happy about bringing you in, but I swore you’d be smart, and if you aren’t…” He rubbed his throat and cleared it. “Just don’t. Please, Hope. Sonny will have you guys covered the whole time. If he sees anything go wrong—you deviate from the plan, Paige takes out her cell phone…He’s a crack shot.”

“I know.”

He nodded, squeezed my arm, then sent me on my way.

RIGHT ON SCHEDULE, Paige emerged from the dark depths of the lot. As she approached, her gaze tripped along the street. Every few seconds, a car passed, more when the lights two blocks down changed. Across the road, a couple walked, presumably heading to the club. Jaz had been meticulous choosing this location. Empty enough to avoid witnesses. Busy enough that it wouldn’t spook her.

I’d worried whether the parking lot itself would be a problem. It was almost empty, and only sprinkled with lights, as if they didn’t do enough business after dark to warrant more. For a guy, not a problem. A woman might think differently.

Paige blinked as she stepped from the shadows and the streetlights hit her.

“I hope you locked your car,” I called as she approached.

She started and pulled up short. Lost in her thoughts?

“Your car,” I said. “Did you lock it?”

“Um, right. Yes.”

Her voice was pitched higher than her usual contralto and her gaze kept darting along the road. Nervous, and not doing a very good job of hiding it. I told myself I was projecting my own tension on her. But as she drew closer, I could feel her anxiety, the chaos tickling along my nerves. I caught snippets of her thoughts. Random worries that she was making a mistake, that she never should have agreed.