She didn’t see me flip her off. Too busy nattering away on her cell phone to do something safe, like pay attention to pedestrians and traffic signals. And she’d cost me any chance I’d had of catching the girl. Up ahead, the cab had already pulled out into traffic. Five seconds later, it turned right, disappearing from sight.

Gone. The girl was gone.

And I had no idea where she went or more importantly, why someone had tried to kill her.

I stood there a moment, cursing my own stupidity. I should have known the second the girl asked for the Tin Man that something was seriously wrong. That it wasn’t just a fluke or an accident or dumb luck. That trouble had just walked into the Pork Pit.

Trouble that had gotten away from me.

“Fuck,” I snarled again before turning and heading back to the restaurant.

———

I tucked my knives up my sleeves and slowly, calmly, quietly strolled the block and a half back to the Pork Pit.

No need to draw any more attention to myself today. If I kept this up, somebody might call the police and report a crazy woman. Not too long ago, I’d spent several days in Ashland Asylum on one of my jobs. I had no desire to pay the facility a return visit.

A couple minutes later, I stepped into the Pork Pit.

Sophia was adding some red pepper and paprika to her macaroni salad. Finn sat on his usual stool, sipping another cup of chicory coffee and reading the rest of the financial section.

“Problems?” he quipped.

I gave him a sour glare.

“I only ask because a) you’re not smiling and covered in someone else’s blood, and b) I saw you run out of the building across the street like there were a pack of hungry vampires after you,” Finn said. “I take it Jake McAllister managed to allude you?”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t McAllister. The shooter wasn’t even gunning for me. He was aiming at the girl.”

I filled Finn and Sophia in on my theory about the shooter being a pro and my conclusion his target had been the girl, not me.

Finn let out a low whistle. “Someone hired an assassin to take out the girl? She must have really pissed somebody off.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Behind the counter, Sophia grunted her agreement.

“I don’t care who she’s pissed off right now,” I snapped. “I just need to find her before the assassin decides to make another run at her.”

“Why?” Finn asked. “It’s her problem, not yours.”

I stared at him. “Because she comes in here asking about the Tin Man, asking about Fletcher, and a minute later, somebody’s shooting at her. I want to know why. Why she came here, what her connection to Fletcher is, all of it.”