At The City's Edge

CHAPTER 1

When the man pointed a gun at him, Jason Palmer was cooling down after his daily five and picturing the first beer of the day, a sweating Corona-and-lime that he figured he'd drink in the shower. Happy hour had been coming early lately, but he'd decided not to worry about it. To pretend this was summer vacation. Spend it ru

Maybe twenty, with dark skin and predator's eyes. A sharp-edged soul patch cropped the same length as his hair. A chromed-up Beretta with the safety off. He held the weapon wrong, elbow cocked out and wrist twisted sideways, but his hand was dead steady.

"Yo, I wa

Adrenaline tingled up the back of Jason's legs. His heart, still racing from the run, thudded louder as he stared at the black hole pointed at his chest. He tried to remember everything he'd heard about getting mugged, how you weren't supposed to look at the guy, that it could make him nervous. "Easy." Jason slowly unwound his hands from his head. "It's no problem. Take the money."

Soul Patch tilted his head slightly, the smile wider. "I say anything about money?"

Jason froze. He'd never seen the man before, and didn't suspect they had much to talk about. He stood at the mouth of the tu

Then Soul Patch narrowed his eyes. "Further than you think." His finger curled against the trigger. "You don't want to be playing."

Reluctantly, Jason stepped forward. Soul Patch nodded down the underpass. "Slow." He draped his track jacket to cover the pistol. A tattoo curled on his forearm, a six-pointed star with letters inside, a G, maybe a D.

Jason's sneakers crunched sand as he walked toward the far end, Soul Patch falling in behind. The sound of their passage echoed in the closed space, scuffing back mingled with the faint rumble of cars above. His shirt went cold and clammy. Keep it easy, he thought. Get him off balance.

"You know," Jason said, voice light, "I like the Cadillac myself."

"What?"

"Saw your necklace, is all."

Suddenly, he heard voices. For a minute, he was relieved. Then two girls turned from the ramp to the hallway, their voices young, college freshmen maybe, laughing like the whole world was their keg party. Soul Patch stiffened at the sight of them.

Jason's fingers tingled. One thing when it was just him on the line; this was responsibility he didn't need. He had to keep the situation under control. "Yup. Beautiful vehicles." Dry tongue forcing the words. "I got a '72 Eldorado. Convertible."

"Shit, one of those old boats? I don't roll that way."

"What do you like, the Escalade?"

"I'm black, I gotta drive an Escalade?"

"I don't know," Jason said. The girls were ten feet away. "Just guessing."

"Man, I got me a XLR."

Jason looked over his shoulder. "No shit?"

"Leather interior and a DVD in the dash."

He nodded, trying to ignore the tension in his muscles. "Nice." The girls drew parallel, and Jason clenched to jump if Soul Patch even looked their direction. But the blonde and brunette passed smooth-faced and oblivious. Jason let out a relieved breath, walked another dozen feet, out of earshot, and then stopped. Enough. "Listen, I've only got twenty bucks on me."

"So?"

"So, take it." He started to reach, froze when Soul Patch shook his head slow.

"Son, I wanted your money, you think you'd still have it?"

"What do you want?"

"I want to talk." He cocked his head. "About what your brother's up to."

Michael.

Jason felt his fingers go to fists. He fought the urge to jump the fucker right there. But the man's gun was steady and his smile was cruel. "What do you mean?" Jason's voice thi

Soul Patch cleared his throat in a sticky gurgle and spat a chunk of phlegm against the wall. "Move."

He forced himself to obey, biting at his lip, limbs raw with adrenaline. Ten more steps took him out of the tu

Jason climbed, mind working furiously. What could possibly co

So what are you going to do about it, soldier?

A delivery truck was parked forty yards up, the angular rear jutting out past the car beside, and he began to drift toward it, rolling on the balls of his feet to fight adrenaline-stiffness. Six cars to go: A couple of imports, a big SUV, one of the new Beetles, and then his truck. A lunge would get him behind it. Soul Patch might snap a shot off, but it would be hurried. And after that, it was just a matter of staying low and weaving. Killer or no, a man who held his weapon sideways didn't have the skill to hit a moving target at any distance. Just a few more steps, and he'd be clear.