Deadly Pursuit by Ann Christopher Read Free Book Online Page A

this one.
    Adrenaline pumping, he hugged the wall and edged toward the office door. At the broom closet he paused to reach inside for his Louisville Slugger, which he kept propped in the corner for just such an occasion.
    Holding it cocked and ready over his shoulder—he didn’t want to hurt the kids, just surprise them enough to wet their pants and scare them straight—he poked his head inside the office door and assessed the scene.
    The corner lamp was on.
    The cash box was sitting, untouched, atop the pile of crap on his desk.
    A slight figure stood in front of the tall file cabinet at the far end of the room, the one where J-Mart kept his employee records, trying to jimmy the lock with controlled, efficient movements.
    Sweatshirt. Jeans. Knit cap pulled low so no hair was visible.
    Purple rubber gloves—the kind the technician wore whenever he had blood drawn—covering small but steady hands.
    Those gloves puzzled him. Worried him.
    That wasn’t a neighborhood kid.
    The burglar made an indistinct noise of unmistakable triumph, slid the top drawer open and, after pocketing the metal tool, began to rifle through J-Mart’s files.
    In his surprise—
what kind of dumb fuck of a burglar ignored the cash box so he could rummage through employment and insurance records?
—J-Mart forgot himself and spoke.
    “What the hell are you doing?”
    The burglar wheeled around.
    J-Mart tightened his grip on the comforting weight of his Slugger, but then their gazes connected and his jaw dropped.
    It was Baby Blue, the cute little cherry pie eater with the GIVE PEACE A CHANCE sweatshirt and world-class tits. Only her cuteness had been swallowed up by a cold intensity that had him wondering, with increasing dread, if maybe he should’ve called the police.
    “You shouldn’t have come back, old man,” she said, and there was something in her icy eyes that made his bowels loosen.
    “What do you want?” If he’d been in his right mind, he’d’ve been embarrassed by his croaky voice, but he had more important things to worry about because he had the strong feeling he was about to die.
    “Where’s Jackson Parker?” asked Baby Blue.
    Who the hell was Jackson Parker?
    For one uncomprehending moment J-Mart stared at her, but then he understood with a sudden violent clarity. There was no Jackson Patterson. It was
Parker.
And here was Jack’s past, caught up with him at last.
    She’d broken into the file cabinet to find Jack’s address.
    Only—funny thing. Jack’s real address wasn’t in there; the one he’d listed on his employment application belonged to a pizzeria two blocks from here. Jack had told him he’d had some problems in hispast and J-Mart didn’t give a damn about his fake address because he was a fine cook who showed up for work when scheduled.
    Maybe he should have asked another question or two about Jack’s troubles, but it was way past too late now, wasn’t it? Now the only thing that mattered was protecting Jack. As long as he didn’t crack, Jack would remain safe from this little demon. And J-Mart had promised he’d help.
    The prayer came back to him though he hadn’t stepped foot in church in a thousand years. Whaddaya know. The nuns had drilled a little religion into him after all.
    Hail Mary, full of grace…
    “I’ve never heard of Jackson Parker.”
    This was technically true, not that he expected it—or anything he said or did—to save his life now that he’d seen this woman’s face.
    That expression didn’t change. Those wide blue eyes didn’t blink. That small body didn’t have one ounce of mercy in it, but then assassins weren’t known for their tender hearts.
    J-Mart thought of Jenny. He thought of children she might one day have that he would never see. He hoped his son-in-law would take care of them.
    And he prayed.
    The Lord is with thee, blessed art thou amongst women…
    Reaching behind her back, Baby Blue produced a weapon and, without hesitation, aimed it at his leg and