No, if she had to live here, she’d stun herself inside a week.
She came to full alert when the duplex door opened.
There you are, she thought. There you are. All dressed up for him. Sylvia this fine morning, hair all blond and shiny, pink sundress showing lots of skin, plenty of cleavage. Matching sunshades, high pink and white heels, big-ass pink purse.
All dolled up for him.
“We got her,” she said into her com. “Give her room. She’s going for the van.”
It happened fast. From her screen angle she couldn’t see it all. But she saw enough.
The dog snapped the leash, and off balance, Yapping Dog Lady landed on her ass. Yard Work Man reached down to her.
And the dog raced straight for the kid. Even from her post, Eve could hear the wild, high-pitched b
arking.
The suspect turned as she opened the driver’s side of the van.
The boy, startled, let out a yelp and swerved the bike, bumping it off the sidewalk, veering straight out into the street. And into the path of an oncoming car, one moving too fast for a quiet, family neighborhood.
“Shit, oh shit.”
As the kid did a header off the bike, one of the surveillance team—Price—bolted out of his vehicle, sprinted like an Olympian toward the kid while the oncoming car hit the brakes. The cop scooped the boy up, never breaking stride until he hit the sidewalk.
The car sent the bike flying as the cop and boy went down.
Price’s jacket fell open. Eve clearly saw his badge, his weapon.
And so did the suspect.
“She made us!” Eve shouted. “Move in, move in!”
Even as the woman leaped into the van, Eve was punching the accelerator.
“Cut her off. Abort op and apprehend.”
She swung around the stalled, damaged car and flattened bike with a harsh squeal of tires on hot pavement. Screams and shouts and the little boy’s wails followed her. And the van had her by half a block.
She tuned into the chatter now—the directions, the street names, and kept her eye on the van.
The woman would contact McQueen, Eve thought, as soon as she got a little distance. And that couldn’t happen.
Take her now, right now.
She hit vertical, pushed for more speed, and took back everything she’d said about Roarke and his fancy rides as the car soared. Sirens ripped through the morning air as she yanked the wheel, made the turn with the van, then edged over it.
A little more, a little more, she thought, gaining, gaining.
She nipped over the van, took the car down fast and hard, yanking the wheel again to block the road.
She saw the woman’s face, just for an instant, saw the lips peel back in shock and rage. The van swerved, but there wasn’t time.
It rammed into the rear of the car, sending Eve into a shrieking three-sixty while air bags exploded. She heard the crash as she shoved the seat back, pushed free.
The van tilted half on the street, half on the sidewalk where it had jumped the curb after smashing into a parked car.
Weapon drawn, Eve walked toward the van.