Shades of Gray (6 page)

DANNY staggered up the last flight of steps to his apartment, three sacks clutched in his arms, his fingers cramping as they clasped the brown paper in a death grip. Mentally he cursed whoever invented grocery bags without handles. Goddamn morons.

He groaned around the keys clamped between his teeth as the sharp edge of a cereal box rubbed against his still-tender wound. He lurched down the hall and maneuvered one of the sacks between his knees, managing to unlock the door on the second try.

Once he was through the door, he let one of the sacks drop not-so-gently to the floor, too late remembering he’d gotten eggs. He pushed the door shut with his hip, tossed his keys onto the couch, and locked the door behind him. Never used to bother locking his door, but Miller had mentioned it yesterday when he’d called to set up another 38 | Brooke McKinley

meeting. As though doors couldn’t be kicked in. “If locking my door is the best the FBI has to offer in the way of protection, then I’m seriously hosed,” Danny had felt compelled to point out. As usual, Miller had ignored him.

The day was warm for this time of year, the open windows bringing the scents of fall inside, along with weak sunlight that illuminated dust motes hanging heavy in the air. The pungent tang of car exhaust, rotting leaves, the crisp apple smell of autumn, and the musky aroma of cologne all mingled together in Danny’s nose.

Danny went still, bile rising in his throat.
Cologne? I don’t wear
cologne.
He stumbled forward a step, caught himself. He could still detect the faintest hint of fragrance wafting toward him on the breeze blowing from the open windows at the back of the apartment.

Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! They’re in here. Okay, calm…breathe…
He couldn’t go out the front door. By the time he unlocked it they’d be on him.
Get into the kitchen. Go now, asshole. Move! But slowly.

Danny walked into the kitchen with his bags of groceries, an even pace, humming lightly under his breath. Like everything was normal.

Like there wasn’t at least one someone in his apartment who was seconds away from blowing his brains out through his forehead.

Danny set the sacks on the counter, moved out of the sight line of the living room. Quickly and quietly, he crossed to the large window next to the refrigerator and peered out at the rusted fire escape. He’d never tried to open this window. Never tried putting his weight on the fire escape, either. But when you have no options, your choices are easy.

One, two, three… do it!
He heaved against the frame and the window opened in a screech of flaking paint and groaning wood. He could hear feet pounding toward the kitchen and someone yelling in Spanish as he vaulted onto the fire escape, throwing himself down the steps and pitching forward to miss busting his mouth against the ancient metal by mere centimeters.
Run, don’t look back. Run!

But of course he looked back; how could he not? One floor from the ground he jumped clear of the fire escape and took off at a dead run Shades of Gray | 39

around the corner, but not before he glanced over his shoulder and saw two men racing down the steps after him. The man in the lead kept coming, but the one behind stopped. Danny would have known that face anywhere; it haunted his dreams almost as often as Hinestroza’s did. Madrigal. The man Hinestroza always sent to clean up a mess. The man Danny had known for more than a decade. The man who never left the house without cologne. Madrigal gave Danny a smile made wolfish by too many pointed teeth crowding against thin red lips. He didn’t seem bothered that Danny was getting away, saluting Danny rakishly with his silencer-tipped gun. Danny’s escape only made the hunt more fun.

Danny winged out of sight, suddenly grateful for all the exercise the guards had made them do in prison. He plowed through the mass of people lining the street for the local farmers’ market, for once not bitching about the commotion. Halfway down the block he ducked into a tiny bookstore, weaving his way through the stacks until he was hidden in the back.

He pulled the cell phone from his jacket pocket, sweat running down his face to drip onto the key pad as he hit the button for Miller’s number.
Answer, goddamn it! Pick up the fucking phone!

“Sutton here,” Miller answered after the fourth ring.

“They know,” Danny panted. “They were in my apartment.”

“Where are you?”

“That little bookstore right around the corner from my place.” Danny paused to suck in a lungful of air. “On Walnut.”

“Are you safe there?” Miller’s voice was tight and matter-of-fact.

“Fuck, Miller, I don’t know!” Danny flung his hand outward, sending a spray of books toppling to the floor. “Shit!” The woman up front gave Danny a suspicious glance over the rim of her glasses.

“Sorry,” he called, bending over to gather the books in his arms. “I thought you said I’d be safe in my apartment!” he hissed into the phone cradled between ear and shoulder.

“Stay put, out of sight. I’ll be there in ten minutes. When you see 40 | Brooke McKinley

my car, come out and get in the front seat. Don’t hesitate.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on taking the scenic route.” Nine minutes and forty seconds later according to Danny’s watch, the blue Crown Victoria pulled up at the curb. Danny walked quickly from the back of the store and crossed the sidewalk in two long steps, unconsciously hunching over and bracing himself for gunshots. He threw himself into the passenger seat and Miller accelerated away in a screech of tires before Danny’s door was fully closed.

They drove in silence. Danny’s pulse gradually returned to normal, neck-craning backward glances tapering off from every five seconds to once a minute.

“Nobody’s following us,” Miller assured him when they stopped at a red light.

Danny laughed, a harsh, pained sound. “Well, you told me I’d be fine too. So forgive me if I check things out for myself.”

“You okay?” Miller asked, looking at Danny from behind his mirrored shades.

Danny could see his own reflection staring back at him, eyes too wide, hair sticking up at crazy angles. He ran a hand over his head, smoothing down the unruly strands. “Another five seconds, I was dead.”

“How’d you get out?”

“Fire escape. Ran like hell. I got lucky.”

The light turned green and Miller shifted his gaze back to the road. “Do you know who it was?”

“One of them I didn’t recognize. The other was Juan Madrigal.”

“Jesus, Danny,” Miller breathed.

“His reputation precedes him, I’m guessing.”

“I’ve seen his handiwork a time or two.” Miller’s voice was grim.

“Yeah, you’re not the only one. I’ve had a ringside seat.” Danny turned his head away, closing his eyes against memories he spent every waking hour trying to erase. “Where to now?” He was so tired he Shades of Gray | 41

thought maybe he could live happily just driving around in this car where he would never have to think about anything again.

“Someplace safe,” Miller said. He sounded in control.

“We tried that before.”

Miller shook his head. “No. It’s going to be different this time.” He turned to glance at Danny. “From now on, I’ll be the one protecting you.”

42 | Brooke McKinley

“IF YOU eat the worm, you get to drink for free.”

“What?” Danny raised his eyes from the battered wooden bar, a
smile already tugging at his lips.

The girl, who had been watching him from the corner of her eye
for the last hour, hopped up onto the stool next to his. Her long hair
swung into his face with a blast of pineapple scent, her lightly bronzed
skin radiating coconut tanning lotion. She smelled like a pina colada,
sticky and sweet.

“I said, if you eat the worm,” she pointed to the mammoth bottle
of tequila perched behind the bar, “you get the rest of your drinks on
the house.”

Danny laughed. “No, thanks. I’m not that poor.”

“Ah… but I’ll bet you’re that crazy,” she said with a wink.

Danny grinned around his shot glass. “You may have me there.”

“My name’s Amanda.” She offered him slim fingers, cool in his
palm. Her thumbnail scraped along his life line when she eased her
hand away.

“Danny.”

“So, what are you doing in Mexico, Danny?”

“I’m working.”

Amanda’s eyebrows shot up, her face registering friendly
disbelief. “Working?”

Shades of Gray | 43

“Yep.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“This and that.”

Now it was Amanda’s turn to smile, her eyes sparkling with
untamed ideas. “You’re very mysterious.”
She had no idea. “What are you doing down here?” Danny
asked, steering the conversation to more neutral territory. “Vacation?”

“Yeah, a trip with friends.” She nodded her head toward the
gaggle of girls crowded at the end of the bar, all of them sneaking
glances at Danny when they thought he wasn’t looking, waiting for
their chance if Amanda couldn’t close the deal.

“Hey, you two want anything?” the bartender asked, using a
dirty rag to wipe the space in front of Danny’s elbow, succeeding more
in smearing around the remnants of previously spilled drinks than in
actually cleaning anything away.

“Yeah, a couple of tequila shots,” Amanda said. “You game?”
Danny didn’t need anyone to tell him this was a bad idea. The
last thing he wanted was a complication. But there was something
about Amanda he liked, something fearless in her eyes, a kind of manic
joy he was already drawn to, curious to see if he could capture some of
it for himself. She reminded him of the wild girls he’d known in high
school who moved too fast and laughed too loud and didn’t give a shit
what the town thought of them
because all they cared about was getting
out, getting away. Just like Danny. He could feel
the beginning sparks
of attraction settling in his fingertips and groin; he wondered if
Amanda’s neck would taste the way she smelled, if her fruity scent
would linger on his tongue. It was all such a bad idea.

“Sure.” He smiled, plucking a red rose from the vase on the bar
and tucking it behind Amanda’s ear. “I’m game.”
IT WAS after nine o’clock when Danny finally appeared in the 44 | Brooke McKinley

bedroom doorway, his white T-shirt wrinkled and obviously slept-in, his jeans still unfastened at the waist.

“Morning,” he mumbled to Miller, who was sitting on the couch, a lukewarm mug of coffee in his hand.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Miller said. “Some cereal too.

But I’m going to have to run out later for groceries. This place isn’t exactly stocked.”

After he’d picked up Danny at the bookstore the day before, they’d come directly to this apartment, one of several the FBI kept for just this purpose: hiding witnesses and informants away from the world. Miller had been lucky this one was available; at least it had two bedrooms and was in a decent part of town. There was even a small balcony off the living room. The last time he’d had to babysit someone like this, he’d slept on a lumpy couch for four days. This stint with Danny promised to last a lot longer; he was glad to have a room of his own.

When they’d arrived, Danny hadn’t asked any questions. Still shell-shocked, Miller had presumed; because during their short acquaintance, he’d already discovered that silence was not Danny’s natural state. Danny’s cut had been oozing blood, and he’d taken a wet washcloth and retreated to his bedroom within minutes. Miller had stayed up late flipping channels on the TV, but Danny hadn’t reappeared.

Now Danny shuffled into the kitchen, clanking dishes so loudly Miller expected to hear the telltale chime of shattering glass.

“Scoot over,” Danny ordered when he returned, waiting until Miller swept his legs off the couch to sit down with his own mug of coffee and a box of Fruit Loops. “Nice cereal selection,” he said.

“What am I, five?”

“I said I’d go shopping later.” Miller took a sip of coffee, studying Danny in quick, sidelong glances. “How’s your side?”

“Okay. Think I ripped it open a little when I was running, but it’ll be fine.”

Shades of Gray | 45

“Do you need to go back to the doctor?”

“Nah. Stitches will be coming out soon anyway.” Danny munched his way through a handful of cereal. “So, this is where we stay from now on?”

“Yeah.” Miller nodded. “You’re not setting foot out of here for a while.”

Danny groaned. “I’ll go crazy cooped up in here!”

“There’s a TV. I can bring in movies and books. There’s a treadmill so you can get some exercise, and—”

“Whoop-dee-do,” Danny said, making a little twirling motion with his index finger.

“The alternative is dead, Danny,” Miller reminded him, hanging onto his patience by the thinnest of strings.

“Yeah, and whose fault is that? I told you assholes your shitty plan would never work.” Danny set his mug on the floor, tossing the cereal box aside. “How’d he find out about me rolling over anyway? It had to be one of your people.” He stood and took a few agitated steps away from the couch. “Someone from the inside had to have told him.