Wilson didn’t even look at the girl. He was smiling at Quinn, who was moving Jennifer out of the room, going around Tracy, careful not to impede the sight line of her gun.
“Next time,
Tracy heard their footsteps out in the hall. She heard them going out the open window. The sound of their bodies knocking the window frame faded. She kept her gun arm straight.
“You got a name, too?” said Wilson.
Tracy waited. She could hear them on the fire escape and soon that sound faded, too. Then there was the man talking from the radio and Wilson’s stare and smile.
Wilson studied her shape. “Look here, I didn’t mean nothin’, callin’ you a man like I did. Blind man can see you’re all woman. I mean, you got some fine titties on you, baby. Can tell by the up-curve, even through that shirt. I bet they stand up real nice when you unfasten that brassiere. Do me a favor, turn around and let me get a look at that pretty ass.”
Tracy felt a drop of sweat slide down her forehead. It snaked off her brow and stung at her eyes.
“You got a nice pussy, too?”
Tracy snicked back the hammer on the .38.
“Go on, now,” Wilson said softly. “I ain’t gonna follow you or nothin’ like that. I don’t care to hurt a woman ’less she makes me. You ain’t gonna make me, are you, darlin’?”
She backed out of the room. She backed down the hall and backed through the open window. She quickly looked down at the idling van in the alley as she got onto the fire escape, but she kept her eyes on the third floor and her gun pointed at the window all the way as she backed herself down the iron stairs.
chapter 15
QUINN drove out of the city, keeping to the speed limit and stopping for yellow lights. He had thanked Tracy when she got in the van, but they had barely spoken since. She knew that he was grateful for what she’d done. She also knew what kind of man Quinn was, and that he had been shamed.
Jennifer and Stella argued loudly, sitting beside each other on the back bench, for most of the way out of D.C. But as they crossed the line their voices grew quieter, and their conversation softened further still as Quinn took the ramp onto the Beltway. By the time Quinn was on 270 North, he looked in the rearview mirror and watched them embrace. For the first time since the row house snatch, Quinn loosened his grip on the wheel.
Tracy lit a cigarette and dropped the match out the window. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Can I have my radio back?”
Quinn took it from his jacket and handed it over. “This thing works for shit, y’know it?”
“Next time turn it on.” Tracy moved her hand to the tray and tapped ash off her cigarette. “You don’t have a problem with what happened back there, do you?”
“No problem,” lied Quinn. “I’d be a class-A jerk if I did. I mean, you saved my ass.”
Tracy grinned. “And the rest of you, too.”
“That was pretty smooth, you bustin’ in like that. And you didn’t even tell me you were carrying a gun.”
“My father gave it to me a long time ago. He bought it hot downtown. It’s an old MPD sidearm, before they went to the Glocks.”
“It’s, uh, illegal to have one of those in the District. You know it?”
“Really.”
“Yeah, you could get in a world of trouble, you get caught with it on your person. You could lose your license.”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
“Just letting you know, is all.”
“I wouldn’t walk into a situation like that without it.”
“Okay.”
“You tellin’ me you don’t own one?”
“I do own one. I’m just surprised that
“I wanted to kill him, Terry. I mean, I was close. It scared me a little, back there. Even more than he did, you know? You ever get a feeling like that?”
“All the time,” said Quinn.
In fact, Quinn was visualizing the room in the row house and Worldwide Wilson now.
“Anyway,” said Tracy, “nice work. You found her quick. Even the hero stuff you pulled back there. Good, solid work.”
“Hero? Christ, what about you?”
Tracy smiled crookedly. “What?”
Quinn looked her over. “Bad-ass.”
Tracy pointed to the detention center across the highway that had become visible on their left. Quinn put the van into the right lane and took the next exit.
