photo of the man involved, even if he hadn’t yet been identified. Any minute now, the governor would arrive. The Hunter Agency would save the day and return to being nothing more than a benign local presence. Kimmer could go back to sorting out her life—to building something new for herself.
Today she wore professional bland. Black tailored blazer, black slacks, black dress shoes comfortable enough for running. Her silk V-neck shirt came in deep forest-green, and no one had to know that she’d painted her toenails in something closer to lime—or that they matched her underwear. Her scent of the day had almost been mentholated muscle rub, but she’d opted for a more subtle ginger destiny powder. Unlike the others working security here, Kimmer had a tiny walkie-talkie in her pocket but no coil of wire up to her ear. Nothing nearly so obvious. She was Hunter’s secret weapon, and the coil of wire was really obvious.
She’d left Rio preparing for a real estate run, drive-bys of those properties that had intrigued him from the listings he’d been gathering. Her house had never been meant for two. Not when they consisted of one woman fiercely protective of her turf and a man who had longer legs and a larger personal presence than most.
But she had mixed feelings about the results of his search. She loved her little house, the remodeled interior built just to her tastes. She loved drowsing in the same bed and sitting in his lap to do his crosswords, even if she rarely sat still long enough to make it through a whole puzzle. She wasn’t sure she wanted to give up any of it.
Moving easily through the edges of the crowd which now waited with growing impatience, Kimmer spotted the man who didn’t want to be there but who’d been towed by his significant other, the woman who had a crush on the governor, and the older woman who waited, intense and ready to deride everything the man had to say. Kimmer slipped a sinus-tingling mint into her mouth and checked her watch. Any minute now.
And then she looked up and met the eyes of the man for whom she’d been watching. Not a face she knew, not features she knew. But a man waiting for the right moment, poised for action and impatient in spite of his apparent outward repose. She saw his eyes—muddy brown even from fifteen feet away—widen slightly.
Knows I’ve pegged him as trouble ….
Just what kind of trouble she didn’t know or care—she couldn’t let the governor walk into it. She pulled her tiny radio from her pocket and put it to her mouth. “Chimera here. Abort, abort. Hostile spotted.” But as she held the device to her ear, the crowd noise swelled and a spatter of applause built to as much enthusiasm as a small crowd in a small park in a small town could generate. She didn’t think the governor had actually appeared—no, a quick glance showed her he’d merely been spotted on the far side of the bandstand—and though he’d stopped and bent his silvered head to listen to the brief words of his escort, the audience still anticipated his imminent arrival. The escort gestured out toward the crowd and the governor gave a sharp shake of his head.
“Chimera, report!” the radio crackled, barely intelligible over the crowd noise no matter how closely she held it.
The man hadn’t moved. The crowd surged briefly around him; he held his ground. Ugly brown suit, blue tie that didn’tmatch. Muddy brown eyes that did. Hand dipping inside his coat in a move Kimmer knew too well—a move she couldn’t make sense of. Why give himself away? If he knew he’d been spotted, he might well have tried to quietly walk away before she could reach him. If he didn’t know, why expose himself before the governor was anywhere near the range of a handgun?
Her own hand twitched for her waist, where a streamlined belt holster held the equally streamlined SIG Sauer she carried in dress mode. But the crowd, spontaneously renewing its applause, changed her mind. She slipped her
Today she wore professional bland. Black tailored blazer, black slacks, black dress shoes comfortable enough for running. Her silk V-neck shirt came in deep forest-green, and no one had to know that she’d painted her toenails in something closer to lime—or that they matched her underwear. Her scent of the day had almost been mentholated muscle rub, but she’d opted for a more subtle ginger destiny powder. Unlike the others working security here, Kimmer had a tiny walkie-talkie in her pocket but no coil of wire up to her ear. Nothing nearly so obvious. She was Hunter’s secret weapon, and the coil of wire was really obvious.
She’d left Rio preparing for a real estate run, drive-bys of those properties that had intrigued him from the listings he’d been gathering. Her house had never been meant for two. Not when they consisted of one woman fiercely protective of her turf and a man who had longer legs and a larger personal presence than most.
But she had mixed feelings about the results of his search. She loved her little house, the remodeled interior built just to her tastes. She loved drowsing in the same bed and sitting in his lap to do his crosswords, even if she rarely sat still long enough to make it through a whole puzzle. She wasn’t sure she wanted to give up any of it.
Moving easily through the edges of the crowd which now waited with growing impatience, Kimmer spotted the man who didn’t want to be there but who’d been towed by his significant other, the woman who had a crush on the governor, and the older woman who waited, intense and ready to deride everything the man had to say. Kimmer slipped a sinus-tingling mint into her mouth and checked her watch. Any minute now.
And then she looked up and met the eyes of the man for whom she’d been watching. Not a face she knew, not features she knew. But a man waiting for the right moment, poised for action and impatient in spite of his apparent outward repose. She saw his eyes—muddy brown even from fifteen feet away—widen slightly.
Knows I’ve pegged him as trouble ….
Just what kind of trouble she didn’t know or care—she couldn’t let the governor walk into it. She pulled her tiny radio from her pocket and put it to her mouth. “Chimera here. Abort, abort. Hostile spotted.” But as she held the device to her ear, the crowd noise swelled and a spatter of applause built to as much enthusiasm as a small crowd in a small park in a small town could generate. She didn’t think the governor had actually appeared—no, a quick glance showed her he’d merely been spotted on the far side of the bandstand—and though he’d stopped and bent his silvered head to listen to the brief words of his escort, the audience still anticipated his imminent arrival. The escort gestured out toward the crowd and the governor gave a sharp shake of his head.
“Chimera, report!” the radio crackled, barely intelligible over the crowd noise no matter how closely she held it.
The man hadn’t moved. The crowd surged briefly around him; he held his ground. Ugly brown suit, blue tie that didn’tmatch. Muddy brown eyes that did. Hand dipping inside his coat in a move Kimmer knew too well—a move she couldn’t make sense of. Why give himself away? If he knew he’d been spotted, he might well have tried to quietly walk away before she could reach him. If he didn’t know, why expose himself before the governor was anywhere near the range of a handgun?
Her own hand twitched for her waist, where a streamlined belt holster held the equally streamlined SIG Sauer she carried in dress mode. But the crowd, spontaneously renewing its applause, changed her mind. She slipped her
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