“Hailey Roarke smiled at the moody male voice echoing in her ear as she peered into the darkness. “Define trying,” she said into the mike attached to her turtleneck. “Trying,” Billy Sullivan grumbled in her earpiece, the frown in his voice as obvious as his perpetual sarcasm. “As in, doing whatever the hell you can to make sure I get caught and you walk away scotfree.” Hailey flashed her light around the cement walls of the steam tunnel, no more than four feet wide and six feet tall. A dim hiss ...echoed all around her. Above, pipes filled with blistering hot water ran just under street level from house to house in the historic Chicago neighborhood. Trying to get his ass kicked? From where she stood, Billy had the cake job, sitting in the van running surveillance while she did the down and dirty work. “I don’t need to ‘try’ to kick your ass, Billy. I could do it anytime I wanted.” “Don’t I know it,” Billy mumbled. “No wonder you’re single. Take a right at the next intersection.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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