t'hear it again."
"It's your life," Soraya said. "That makes it different from anything I've heard."
Tyrone snorted, but by his look she knew he was pleased.
"Me, though I was trained for the street, I was born with an engineer's mind. What's that mean?" He shrugged and pointed into the distance. "Down Florida, they puttin' up a shitload a high-rises. I go there every chance I get, see how it all goin' up, y'know?"
Soraya met his eyes for a moment. "Will you think me a fool if I say there're ways for you to take advantage of your mind."
"Fo yo maybe." A slow smile spread across his face, an expression considerably older than his years. "We walkin' in my prison, girl."
Soraya considered answering that, but decided she'd pushed him far enough for the moment. "I gotta go."
Tyrone pursed his lips. "Yo, just so you know, yo. It's about the car that followed you here."
Soraya stopped in her tracks. "Tell me you're putting me on."
His head swiveled, and he looked at her as a cobra stares down its prey. "Straight dope, like before."
Soraya was furious with herself. She'd been so wrapped up in her own personal fog, she hadn't even considered that someone might tail her. She had failed to check, which was usually second nature to her. Obviously she was more upset about that sonovabitch Lerner benching her than she'd realized. Now she'd paid the price for her lack of vigilance.
"Tyrone, I owe you one."
He shrugged. "It's what Deron pays me t'do. Protection doan come cheap, but loyalty ain't got no price."
She looked at him, but for the first time seemed to really see him. "Where is it? The car that tailed me?"
They began to walk again. "Up ahead, at the corner of Eighth," Tyrone said. "Far side, so the driver get a good look at what yo up to." He shrugged. "My crew'll take care a him."
"Not that I don't appreciate the offer, Tyrone." She gave him a serious look. "But I brought him here. It's on me."
"Yo, I admire that, yo." He stopped, stood facing her for a minute. His expression was as serious as hers. There was no mistaking the grim determination in it. Around here, he was the immovable object. "Understand, it's gotta be done 'fore he get any idea 'bout Deron. Afta that, nuthin can save him. Even yo."
"I'll take care of it right now." She ducked her head, abruptly shy. "Thanks."
Tyrone nodded, headed back to his crew. Taking a deep breath, she kept on the way she had been going, down to the corner of 8th Street, where Detective Overton sat in his car, scribbling on a slip of lined paper.
She rapped her knuckles on the glass. He looked up, hastily jammed the paper into his shirt's breast pocket.
When the window whispered down, she said, "What the hell d'you think you're doing?"
He put away his pen. "Making sure you don't get hurt. This a helluva neighborhood."
"I can take care of myself, thank you very much."
"Listen, I know you're on to something-something important Homeland Security doesn't have a clue about. I gotta have the info."
She glared down at him. "What you have to do is leave. Now."
All at once his face turned into a granite mask. "I want what you know soon's you know it."
Soraya felt the heat of combat in her cheeks. "Or what?"
Without warning, he swung the door open, catching her in the stomach. Down she went to her knees, gasping.
Slowly, Overton climbed out of the car and stood over her. "Don't fuck with me, little lady. I'm older'n you. I don't play by the book. I've forgotten more tricks than you'll ever learn."
Soraya closed her eyes for a moment, to show him that she was trying to regain both her wind and her composure. Meanwhile her left hand had pulled a compact no-snag ASP pistol from its slim holster at the small of her back, aimed it at Overton. "This is loaded with nine-by-nineteen-millimeter Parabellum bullets," she said. "At this range, one of them will most likely tear you in two." She took two deep breaths. Her gun hand was steady. "Get the hell out of here. Now."
He backed up slowly and deliberately, sitting down behind the wheel without taking his eyes off her. He shook out a cigarette, stuck it between his bloodless lips, lit it with a languid motion, drew down on it.
"Yes, ma'am." There was nothing in his voice; all the venom was in his eyes. He slammed the door shut.
He