Page 63 of Drilled

“Wait!” Lane called us back. We both paused, and I ignored the itch to shoot upstairs anyway and confront him. “You guys aren't even supposed to be here. If Sandy realizes that, it'll only make things worse.”

She had a point. Miller must've come to the same conclusion because he stepped away from the door, his face still dark.

I looked at Lane. “So what are you thinking we do?”

It was amazing how her old mask, the one we'd seen her don every morning when she was about to go kick ass in court, slipped on so easily. You'd have never guessed the expressions she wore less than half an hour ago, or the sounds she was making.

She looked completely and utterly in control.

“You guys should go home, and make sure you aren't seen. Leave Manning to me.”

23

Lane

True to form, Nance rocked up outside my house at 0900 hours, sharp.

Two brief, polite honks from her old Camry announced her arrival, and I quickly grabbed a jacket, two cups of coffee and my tote before speeding out the door. She gave me a huge grin as I slid into the passenger seat and handed her one of the mugs.

“Thanks, Laney,” she said, taking a sip despite the steam still rolling off the rim. “And you got my order exactly right, too.”

“After how long we’ve been friends, I would personally have fired myself from the position if I didn’t know how you like your coffee,” I pointed out, letting the tote drop into the footwell as I shut the car door. Then I took a deep breath, nervous butterflies in my stomach. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Welcome to my domain,” she said mischievously, wiggling her eyebrows. “The wonderful world of espionage.”

“A tad dramatic, no?”

“How else would you describe a stakeout?” she challenged me.

Nance pulled away from the curb and jerked her head over her shoulder to a bag in the backseat. “Have a look.”

I reached back and pulled it onto my lap, my eyes widening in surprise when I opened it up. “What is all this stuff?”

“Supplies,” she said simply, her eyes still fixed on the road ahead. “How do you think I get the dirty work done?”

“You’re telling me that every time I task you with finding out some info for me, you’re driving around the city with a little vigilante bag?” I asked incredulously, reaching inside and bringing out a clipboard and long-lens DSLR camera. “This is insane.”

“The work isn’t easy,” she said with a theatrical flourish. “But it’s honest.”

“For the most part,” I shot back with a snort.

“Hey. That subscription I have to the public records database is paid for. That’s as honest as it’s gonna get,” she replied.

I laughed, leaning back into my seat and turning on the radio for some background music. As I rooted through the stations, she stopped me when “Outta Love” blared on.

“Oh, that’s my song. Let it play,” she said, and I turned up the volume. Nance proceeded to belt the chorus out, staying somewhat in key but the confidence is what really sold the performance.

“You and Sy would be besties,” I said, shaking my head with an amused smile on my face.

Nance raised an eyebrow and sent a quick sidelong glance my way. “Sy?”

“Silas,” I corrected myself, my face heating up. “The, uh…”

“Hmm, yes, the blond,” Nance interrupted. “I remember. I just didn’t think you were on a nickname basis already. Interesting, that.”

“Not as interesting as chasing my landlord around town,” I said airily, trying to redirect the conversation back to less intimate matters. “Speaking of which, where’s our first stop?”

“The Kedzie Hearth,” Nance answered without missing a beat. But I could tell from the subtle gleam in her eyes that she wasn’t done with the topic just yet. “He’s meeting a developer contact.”