Flawless by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

We’re thieves. We don’t even use real guns!”
    Craig spun around toward him and then bent down to pick up the thieves’ guns.
    It was an incredibly real copy of a Smith & Wesson. And it was made out of plastic.
    He grabbed the other weapon off the floor of the van; it, too, was an excellent copy and, like the first, made of plastic.
    â€œWhere the hell did you get these?” Craig demanded.
    The driver laughed. “Toy store,” he said. “Check that one out. It’s a water pistol.”
    â€œYou idiot. Don’t you know that the police would shoot you, whether these were real or not?”
    â€œPolice never should have caught us,” the driver said.
    â€œAm I hearing this right?” Mike demanded over the earpiece.
    Craig wasn’t sure how Mike could hear anything, frankly. By now sirens were ripping through the air and police cars were surging around them.
    He slid open the panel door, holding out a hand with his badge showing. “Lower your weapons. FBI. The situation is under control.”
    He looked back at the driver.
    The guy wasn’t wearing a ski mask or a hoodie. He looked like any other blue-collar worker in a Yankees’ beanie and a plaid flannel shirt. He was about thirty-five, Craig estimated. Brown hair, neatly trimmed beard and mustache.
    Someone’s all-around good old boy uncle, perhaps, come to the big city.
    Craig realized that he and the woman were no longer in danger—not as far as this crew went. He regretted the fact that he was now certain he had been right.
    There was a copycat group working the streets. With real guns—guns that killed.
    He’d won the bet with Mike.
    He wished that he’d lost.
    Two groups...
    And the one that killed was still out there.

CHAPTER
THREE
    ALL KIERAN WANTED to do was escape, but getting away wasn’t going to be that easy.
    The police and the FBI and everyone else who had shown up where the van had stopped needed to speak with her.
    At least half of them were convinced that she needed medical attention.
    She was somewhat banged up. There weren’t seats in the van—the back had been empty except for some tools, including the tire iron she’d used on the thief when he’d had a gun trained on the FBI agent.
    Except that it hadn’t been a gun at all; it had been a water pistol. However, she didn’t feel quite so foolish, because Mr. FBI hadn’t known it was a water pistol, either.
    Why the hell did companies make such accurate children’s toys? Were they trying to help raise the next generation of crooks?
    She needed to leave. She needed to get back to the pub before Declan started worrying about her.
    But instead she was stuck sitting in the back of an ambulance, wrapped in a blanket and drinking coffee while desperately trying to convince the police and EMTs and whoever else was there that she was fine and just needed to leave.
    Finally one cop told her, “Sorry, miss, you’re not going anywhere. You’re the best witness we’ve got against these guys.”
    â€œBut I really need to go to work.”
    She hadn’t seen the agent who had leaped into the van like a fullback since the cops had sounded and he had jumped out again. An officer had helped her out, and then others had entered the van to gather up the thieves, who were now on their way to a police station somewhere to be held for arraignment. She’d overheard the driver, a good old boy with a beard and flannel shirt, inform them that he wasn’t talking to anyone until he had a lawyer.
    She had turned over all the diamonds to the police—including the one her brother had pinched.
    She realized that she was now actively afraid of explaining to Declan what she had been doing. She had promised to work that night, and while Daniel might manage for a few hours, he wasn’t up to handling the night crowds.
    One of the EMTs came over to her. “You should really go to the