FORTY-EIGHT

THE autumn night was chilly, but not nearly cold enough to dispel the alcohol vapors from my brain. My knees felt wobbly—although strong drink was not to blame.

It was these darned cruel shoes.

Traffic was fairly light on 52nd Street, with not a cab in sight and a line of well-dressed patrons waiting for one in front of 21.

Matt took my arm. “Let’s walk to Fifth and grab a cab there.”

Unfortunately, the far end of the block might as well have been the summit of Everest. The cruel shoes had finally done me in.

As hobbled as a geisha, I halted in front of Halftime, the sports bar frequented by off-duty policemen, where I once joined Quinn.

“I can’t go any farther, Matt. Hail a cab and swing around to pick me up.”

“Clare, just take off those heels and keep moving.”

“Sorry, these feet may be made for walking, but they do not walk bare on New York City pavement. I’d have to get them sterilized before I opened the coffeehouse tomorrow.”

“Hyperbole, anyone?”

“Just get the cab.”

With the noise of revelers and throb of music from inside the busy bar, we had been speaking loudly. Now he leaned into my ear and lowered his voice.

“Are you going to be safe wearing all that bling?”

“This place is full of off-duty cops. Believe me, no one is going to mug me here.”

As if to prove me right, two red-faced, middle-aged men in rumpled suits stepped outside and lit up cigars. A third joined them to argue local football. When he opened his coat to tug up his pants, Matt and I both noticed the gun in his belt and the badge hanging from his neck.

“See,” I mouthed. “Armed guards.”

With a nod, Matt sauntered off, and I texted Quinn to make sure he opened my first text and the attachment.

Will I see you tonight? I have more info.

Quinn’s reply came immediately.

U R amazing. Luv the pictures. DEA surprised. Almost done here. Cannot wait to C U.

Despite the long and stressful day, I suddenly felt awake again. Quinn’s text was a lot warmer than the last one, like a sweet gust of oxygen amid the choking cigar smoke. I felt so happy some of my alcohol fog began to dissipate.

Yes, all was right with the world—

Until a sudden string of explosions shattered the night.