Page 121 of Hard Rain

Whip didn’t answer. He walked to the host stand instead.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

The young woman looked from Whip to the others before giving the smallest shake of her head.

Without taking his eyes off her, Whip eased his jacket back just enough for her to see the badge on his belt.

“Deputy U.S. Marshal,” he murmured.

Axel shifted, resting his hand on the weapon beneath his jacket. He didn’t pull it, but kept it there like he was waiting for the threat.

Knox spun and faced the door, covering their flank like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Relief flooded her face.

She reached beneath the podium and slid a crumpled cocktail napkin across the counter.

Axel glanced down as Whip unfolded it.

HELP ME.

Whip looked back up.

“Who?”

The hostess’s eyes flicked toward the dining room.

Not her head.

Just her eyes.

Whip followed her gaze, dismissing a couple by the window, an older pair near the bar, then two businessmen halfway through dinner before his attention settled on a booth tucked into the corner.

A woman sat rigidly across from a man, her hands folded in her lap. She wasn’t looking around. She was staring at the tabletop.

“What are we going to do?” Alvarez asked.

“We go over there,” Whip answered.

“What if he’s armed?” Alvarez argued.

“Then we disarm the fucker,” Axel said.

“I got it. Follow my lead,” Knox said.

“Knox,” Whip hissed, but the young marshal was already halfway across the room.

“Oh my God, Jeff? I can’t believe it’s you!” Knox crowed as he walked right up to the booth.

The guy looked surprised as hell.

Whip circled behind the booth while Axel moved in from the opposite side.

“Wrong guy, pal.”

“What? Dude…you could have a twin out there.” Knox laughed, then turned to the woman. “I’m Knox.”

“Fuck off,” the guy snarled, making the mistake of lifting his shirt just enough to reveal the pistol tucked into his waistband.