Night Shield Read Free Page A

time, Allison.”
    “I know. I learned that from the best. I guess the first step is to go dig up a short black skirt.”
    Boyd winced as she walked to the door. “Not too short.”
    *  *  *
    Ally had the eight-to-four shift at the precinct, and even if she left on the dot and sprinted the four blocks from the station to her apartment, she couldn’t get home before 4:10 p.m.
    She knew. She’d timed it.
    And leaving at exactly four was as rare as finding diamonds in the mud. But damned if she wanted to be late for her next meeting with Blackhawk.
    It was a matter of pride and principle.
    She slammed into her apartment at 4:11 p.m.—thanks to the delay of a last-minute briefing by her lieutenant—and peeled off her jacket as she raced to the bedroom.
    Blackhawk’s was a good twenty minutes away at a brisk jog—and half again that much if she attempted to drive in rush-hour traffic.
    It was only her second undercover assignment behind her detective’s shield. She had no intention of screwing it up.
    She released her shoulder harness and tossed it onto the bed. Her apartment was simple and uncluttered, mostly because she wasn’t there long enough for it to be otherwise. The house where she’d grown up was still home, the station house was second on that list of priorities, and the apartment where she slept, occasionally ate and even more rarely loitered was a far-down third.
    She’d always wanted to be a cop. She hadn’t made a big deal of it. It simply was her dream.
    She yanked open her closet door and pushed through a selection of clothes—designer dresses, tailored jackets and basketball jerseys—in search of a suitable black skirt.
    If she could manage a quick change, she might actually have time to slap together a sandwich or stuff a handful of cookies into her mouth before she raced out again.
    She pulled out a skirt, winced at the length when she held it up, then tossed that on the bed as wellto dig through her dresser for a pair of black hose.
    If she was going to wear a skirt that barely covered her butt, she would damn well cover the rest with solid, opaque black.
    Tonight could be the night, she thought as she stripped off her trousers. She had to stay calm about it, cool, controlled.
    She would use Jonah Blackhawk, but she would not be distracted by him.
    She knew a great deal about him through her father, and she’d made it her business to find out more. As a kid he’d had light fingers, quick feet and a nimble brain. She could almost admire a boy with barely twelve years under his belt who’d managed to organize a sports-betting syndicate. Almost.
    And she supposed she could come close to admiring someone who’d turned those beginnings around—at least on the surface—and made himself into a successful businessman.
    The fact was she’d been in his sports bar and had enjoyed the atmosphere, the service and the truly superior margaritas Fast Break provided.
    The place had a terrific selection of pinball machines, she recalled. Unless someone had broken her record in the last six months, her initials were still in the number one slot on Double Play.
    She really should make time to get back there and defend her championship status.
    But that was beside the point, she reminded herself. Right now the point was Jonah Blackhawk.
    Maybe his feathers were ruffled because she’d made it clear that two of his employees were on her short list of suspects. Well, that was too bad. Her father wanted her to trust the man, so she’d do her best to trust him.
    As far as she could throw him.
    By 4:20 p.m., she was dressed in black—turtleneck, skirt, hose. She shoved through the shoes on the floor of her closet and found a suitable pair of low heels.
    With a nod to vanity, she dragged the clip out of her hair, brushed it, clipped it back again. Then she closed her eyes and tried to think like a waitress in an upscale club.
    Lipstick, perfume, earrings. An attractive waitress made more tips, and tips had to