"Keep your voice down, baby," Jack whispered. "We're being followed."

My eyes widened as I realized Jack already had my back. He'd positioned himself directly behind me, shielding me from any blow or bullet that might come our way.

"What are you going to do?" I whispered.

"Well, I'm not waiting for him to decide," Jack replied. "You see that sharp turn off the sidewalk up ahead?"

"The alley?"

"Turn down it, baby."

"What? Why?"

"Question me again, and the next time I bring you back to my time, your gumshoe work will be limited to typing and filing."

I got the message and kept moving forward. The sidewalk was deserted, the street quiet. The only sound was the click of my heels along the broken concrete. Jack's footsteps were silent as the grave, and apparently so were the steps of the man tail-lng us.

A single car rumbled down the road. It cruised by us quickly. I waited for it to pass and then I turned into the alley.

"Wait up, sweetheart!" Jack called loudly enough for our tail to hear. "What about that kiss you promised me?"

We were between streetlights, so the shadows were pretty thick and the darkness overwhelmed me as I moved farther down the narrow passage. Suddenly, Jack's hot breath grazed my ear. "That's good, baby." His hand pressed my backside. "Keep walking." Then the warmth of his body vanished.

I gnawed my lower lip as I continued walking forward. What I wanted to do was turn around and ask him what he planned on doing. But I knew a good detective wouldn't question his partner in a situation like this. A good shamus would assume his partner had a plan-and trust it.

And that's exactly what I did: I trusted Jack and kept walking. My heels clicked loudly along the alley's cobble-stones, echoing up the walls of brick on either side of us. It smelled rank back here between the buildings, like spoiled food. I bumped a metal garbage can. Farther down the alley, a cat meowed loudly. I heard scurrying. Mice? Rats? I shuddered in the dark but kept going until I heard- Smack! Thwack! Smack!

Fists were hitting flesh behind me. There was a loud grunt, a body fell, and I worried whether Jack was okay. But when I turned around, it was Jack's dark silhouette that was still standing.

I backtracked quickly to get to Jack's side. The man who'd been following us was now crumpled against the alley wall. "Do you know him?" I asked.

Jack shook his head. He crouched low and patted the man down, coming up with two handguns. "Here," he said, shoving one at me and then another. The first was a snub-nosed revolver. The second had a long, narrow barrel. I think it was a German Lugar.

"Whoa, Jack," I said, holding up my palms. "I don't know how to shoot these-"

"Good because I just want you to hold them, okay?"

"Oh, okay." I juggled the weapons, finally getting a firm hold of each gun butt.

Jack noticed my awkward maneuverings. "Fingers off the triggers, okay?"

I vigorously nodded.

Jack turned back to the man. He was groaning now, coming to, and Jack started his interrogation. "Who are you?"

The man shook his head. "Buzz off."

Jack searched the man's pockets, pulled out a wallet, and flipped it open. "Well, well, well… this little license says you're a private dick, just like me… Egbert P. King."

"Bert," the man muttered. "Nobody but my mother calls me Egbert."

"Okay, Egbert, who sent you to tail me?" The man snorted, rubbed the back of his head. "You got it all wrong in the tail department, fella. I wasn't tailing you." Jack squinted. "Oh, you weren't?"

"No. See, I saw that piece o' tail you're with-" he pointed at me-"and I thought I'd grab me some, too. She's not too expensive, is she? Looks like cheap goods to me."

Jack's meaty fist cocked back. "You son of a-" "Jack, don't!"

Too late. He'd knocked the other PI unconscious. I sighed. "That wasn't too smart, Jack. Now he can't tell you a thing."

Jack grabbed the guy's lapels and shook him. "Wake up, shitbird."

The man groaned.

As Jack shook him again, I heard something suspicious. In the street beyond the alley, a car was rumbling closer, only it wasn't rolling at a normal pace. It was cruising slowly, as if the driver were looking for something or someone.

"Jack, listen," I whispered.

"You made a mistake, Shepard," muttered the PI named Egbert. "A big one."

Just then, three gunshots came in succession. Someone was opening fire on us.

It was too dark to see anything but a few white flashes from a dark car window. Above us, an old fire escape pinged as bullets ricocheted off the rusting structure.

Jack reacted instantly. While I was still gaping in shock, he was pulling out his own weapon, returning fire, and pushing me farther into the darkness.

"Move, baby! Go!"

I did, stumbling farther down the alley a few feet before I realized I was holding weapons, too! I dropped the revolver into my pocket, and pointed the Lugar with two hands.

Before I could fire, Jack was next to me, pushing the gun's barrel toward the ground. "I said run. Not shoot!"

"But-"

"Let's go!" Jack hustled me the length of the alley and we turned down the next street. Then he stashed me in a dark doorway and told me to stay put until he returned. A few minutes later, he was back.

"They're gone," he told me, returning his weapon back to the shoulder holster inside his jacket. "Egbert and his ride both hightailed it out of here. But I'm not surprised."

"Why?"

"Those shots landed a mile over our heads. Whoever fired them didn't want to hurt us. They just wanted to scare us." "But who hired them?"

"Something tells me I'll find out soon enough."

"Here," I said, holding out Egbert's weapons. "You want these?"

Jack took them from me. He checked the safeties then pocketed them both. "You did good, sweetheart. Stop shaking." "I thought we were dead."

Jack touched my cheek, gave me the slightest smile. "Only one of us is dead, Penelope. And I'm glad about that."

I was, too, because life was short. I forgot sometimes, but this moment reminded me.

Jack reached over and drew me into his arms. His touch wasn't playful, like it had been in the car; it was tender, his expression ardent. This time, I didn't pull away; and when his mouth covered mine, I closed my eyes and let him drive

CHAPTER 12. Murder by the Book

"PEN, WAKE UP! Come on, wake up!"

Someone was patting my hand. I tasted dirt, felt a sharp pain in my back and a dull throbbing in my head. "Where am I?"

"You're in the woods beyond Charity Point," a male voice replied. "Don't you remember?"

"What year is it?" I murmured, wondering where Jack had gone.

"Uh-oh, she's acting goofy, Fiona."

I opened my eyes to find Seymour crouched over me, his face pinched with concern. I tried to sit up.

"Wait, maybe you shouldn't move," he said. "Something might be broken."

"I've got to sit up, Seymour. Rocks are digging into my spine, and I think I have a bug in my blouse!"

Seymour called over his shoulder. "I think maybe Pen has a concussion."

I pushed Seymour away. "I don't have a concussion. And who are you talking to, anyway?" I sat up, did a double-take.

Fiona was pale faced, standing beside the mud-splattered golf cart. Grass stains streaked the cart's bright finish. Torn vines clung to the headlights and dangled from the rearview mirror. A low-hanging branch had ripped a ragged hole in the pink-and-white pokka-dotted canvas top. Taking the golf cart off-road and into the woods had obviously exacted a toll on the fragile vehicle.