TWAIN, CALIFORNIA

TUESDAY, MAY 30, 4:00 P.M.

Liza contorted her body so that she could reach her shoe. Raeburn had been good as his word, hiding that slick James Bond blade in the sole. Tom had made her practice retrieving it a few times that morning, and she was grateful for that now.

“You bastard!” a man shouted. “You ungrateful little bastard. I taught you everything and you stole from me!”

That would be the infamous Kowalski, she thought. Tom and Croft had been chasing him for nearly a week, and he’d just dropped into Liza’s lap. Lucky me.

“You tried to kill me!” DJ roared back. “I went to Stockton. I saw you.”

Yes, Liza thought triumphantly. She now held her shoe in her hands. She hoped her numb fingers could slide the blade free. DJ had pulled the zip tie really tight.

Two gunshots cracked the air, one after the other.

Luckily Dominic the Suave had given her cover. She assumed he was dead, having not returned from finding DJ. Hopefully they’ll kill each other.

Ignoring them all, she focused on the task as she’d done in the field, treating injured soldiers while bullets flew and bombs exploded around her.

“Of course I wanted to kill you!” Kowalski yelled. “You led the cops to me, you moron. And then you steal from me?”

Liza exhaled when the blade slid from the sole of the shoe. Thank you, Agent Raeburn. My own Q. She flinched when a bullet penetrated the Jeep’s windshield.

That was too close.

There had been no percussion before the windshield was hit. One of them had a silencer. Probably DJ. There’d been no audible shot when Dominic the Suave had gone looking for DJ and hadn’t come back, nor had there been when DJ had shot the ambulance driver at Sunnyside.

Gripping the ceramic blade between her numb fingers, she sawed at the zip tie, stifling a whimper when the blade cut into her finger. Ignoring the pain, she redoubled her efforts. They were still shooting at each other, but their conversation had taken a different tone.

“I heard you trying to steal from my father. How dare you? How did you even find me?”

“You’re a moron, Belmont. The rifles you stole were chipped. As soon as you left my house, I was on your tail.”

Which seemed like a lie to Liza. If Kowalski had known, he would have killed DJ already.

“You’re lying. You would have killed me already.”

Ha! She sawed harder.

“And I will,” Kowalski said. “Now that you’ve pulled your daddy out of Sunnyside.”

Another gunshot cracked the air, followed a second later by a scream.

Fuck you, assholes, she thought. Kill each other. Just don’t kill me.

The zip tie finally split, the pieces flying to the floor of the Jeep. Blood rushed into her hands and it was all she could do not to cry. Crying is a waste of time. Think.