Hollywood Secrets (41 page)

He watched Anya pull out a newspaper, the redhead wave her arms in the air in response. Not a surprise. From what he’d seen, she seemed the high strung type. Anya was harder to read, though the line of her back seemed straighter, more tense. Whatever they were discussing upset her. Finally the redhead raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. Anya responded with her back to him. Then she leaned forward and passed the dog to the redhead.

Bingo.

Dade felt his muscles relax, his heart speed up, his body focusing, narrowing in on his target. His finger closed around the trigger, his eyes riveted to a spot at the back of Anya’s head.

Then she whipped around, her enormous blue eyes turning his way. For a second, he could swear she was looking right at him. Which was impossible, of course – he’d checked and double checked to make sure nothing on the roof was visible from the ground.

He blinked hard, shook off the feeling, refocused on his site. His finger hovered over the trigger.

He counted off one, two…

But he never got to three.

Instead, as his finger lay loose on the trigger, the plate glass window in his scope exploded into a million pieces.

Dade jerked his head up. Bits of broken glass spewed onto the sidewalk, passersby scattered, screaming, covering their heads as if being attacked from all sides. A man came running out of the hardware store next door, yelling in some foreign language, waving his arms. It was exactly the scene he’d envisioned.

Only a second too early.

Dade grabbed a pair of binoculars from his bag, training them on the broken storefront. Neither the redhead nor Anya were visible, though he spotted the tail of that rat dog peeking out from behind the front counter.

Another shot rang out and Dade watched the telephone on the counter explode, chunks flying every which way. He dropped the binoculars, left the scope, reached into his bag and grabbed his M9, shoving the handgun into the waistband of his pants as he hurtled himself over the fire escape. His legs pumped down the rusted flights, one thought racing through his mind.

He hadn’t pulled the trigger.

So who the hell was shooting at Anya?

* * * * *

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^th
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