The Littlest Target by Maggie K. Black

Author:Maggie K. Black
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-12-07T19:45:18+00:00

EIGHT

He’d tried to tell her earlier. He’d tried to ease her into realizing that Gerry was a criminal back at the diner, to help her see why she should cooperate with Trent and Chloe’s investigation, even if they ended up arresting her.

But he could tell in a glance that she still didn’t believe it.

“What we need to worry about right now is getting your handcuffs off,” she said. Daisy undid her seat belt, then she reached over and undid his. Her hair brushed softly against the scruff of his day-old shadow.

The scent of her filled his senses. She was so close that all he’d have to do was bend his head and his lips would brush hers. Jane’s voice echoed in his mind, asking him just how well he thought he knew her. “Now, if you want to turn your back to me, I’ll see if I can open them.”

He shifted around in his seat. “They’re metal, not plastic zip ties. We’ll need a key.”

“Don’t worry, I might be able to do something.” Her fingers ran along the edges of the handcuffs and brushed over his skin. “I just need something from your jump bag.”

“Help yourself,” he said, though he wasn’t sure what she was going to find in there.

She rummaged around and came up with a long, thin safety pin. She bent it. “Now, hold your hands as straight as you can.”

He did as she asked. Scattered raindrops fell, splattering the windows in thick drops. He felt her slender fingers of one hand hold his hands together, as the other slowly and carefully worked the pin into the handcuff lock like a key. “How did you learn to do that?”

“My stepfather is a retired police constable,” she said. “He started living with my mother and me when I was about nine or ten. He taught me a few things.”

“Is he why you don’t trust cops?”

The gentle movement of her fingers against his skin stopped again. He looked up into the passenger window and saw her reflection there, looking back at him from the tinted glass. Her reflected eyes held his gaze for a long moment. Then she turned back to the handcuffs.

“He’s why I don’t trust people,” she said. “He’s a horrible man, but he was charming at first. Something changed after my half sister was born. He was rough with my mother. He was tough on me. I’m not sure how or why he lost his job, but suddenly he was home every day, drinking and gambling on whatever he could bet money on. I was eleven.”

Something metallic clicked. He felt her fingers run along the inside of the handcuffs, brushing against the insides of his wrists. The cuffs didn’t move. She sighed.

“Please keep going,” he said. “I like listening. I think it keeps me from fidgeting.”

He watched as raindrops fell heavier against the window, running in long lines down the reflection of her face. She went back to working on the lock.

“My mother and stepfather had

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