I couldn’t argue with her and I had the info I needed for now. I tipped my chin at her and let the grimy glass door swing shut behind me as I walked back to the parking lot. I glanced at the Runner to make sure the kids hadn’t touched her and then back at the building that held my prey.

“Hey, man, you got a smoke?”

The biggest of the kids grew some balls and approached me. He was probably all of thirteen years old. Too bad I saw so much of a younger me in him.

“You’re too young to smoke.”

“Are you shitting me?”

I lifted an eyebrow and he took a step back.

“No, I’m not.” I pointed at the Skylark. “You know a redhead that lives there?”

His eyes narrowed at me suspiciously.

“Why?”

“ ’Cause I’m asking is why.” Little punk. I wondered if I was that annoying when I was running the streets off the leash.

“Will you give me a smoke if I do?”

I fought an eye roll. “Sure, kid.”

He grunted and shuffled his worn-out tennis shoes on the asphalt. “Dovie. She lives on the same floor as me. She’s wicked nice. She cooks dinner for me and Paulie sometimes.” He hooked his thumb at another kid, this one had to be ten or eleven. What the fuck was wrong with the world we lived in that these kids were out hustling me and not in bed waiting for school to start the next morning?

“What floor?”

“Why?”

I frowned at him. “We gonna do this all night?”

He shifted nervously and his gaze slid to my car. “That’s a sweet ride.”

I gritted my back teeth. “It is.”

“You steal it?” I wondered if he had any idea who I was. I used to be a legend. Now I was just a cautionary tale.

“No. That’s about the only thing I didn’t steal.”

“Can I go for a ride in it?” This kid. I had to give him credit. He had what it was going to take to make it in this part of town.

“Maybe. If I can find the girl and she can help me find my friend.”

We stared at each other in silence for a long moment. His little crew of hooligans was getting restless, though. I clearly wasn’t a mark; they didn’t want to tangle with me, but they didn’t really want to help me out either.

“You promise?”

Did I promise? Did this kid think I looked like the kind of guy who kept promises? I shrugged.

“Sure, kid. I promise.”

“She’s on the second floor. Apartment twelve. The last guy that asked told me he would spot me a hundred. He lied.”

Jesus. Benny had bribed the kids to get her info as well. Out here it was every man for himself, and that bastard knew it. I sighed and fished out a hundred-dollar bill. I had a stash of cash left from before the bust that was going to have to last me until I figured out my next move, and handing any of it over to a punk kid didn’t thrill me. I passed it to the kid and turned to go across the street to the dingy apartment complex.

“Smoking is bad for you. Go buy some groceries, or some new shoes or something.”

“What about the ride?”

“We’ll see, kid. We’ll see.”

I jogged across the deserted street, and stepped over the sleeping bum on the front walk. I pulled open the rusty security door and took the stairs, which smelled like stale beer and something I didn’t want to think too much about, to the second story of the building. The hallway was empty, but I still pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up over my beanie and tried to make as little noise as possible. No one with any kind of common sense was going to open their door to someone who looked like me after the sun went down. Luckily I never met a closed door I couldn’t open, save for the one that kept me separate from my freedom for the last five years.

This apartment was crap, which meant the door was crap. I could have jimmied it open with a credit card, but it also gave under a little pressure from a well-placed shoulder and a hard shove. There was a loud pop and a soft creak but no one stuck their head out of their apartment to see what was going on. Most people who lived in places like this didn’t have anything worth stealing in the first place, and most single girls forced to live like this invested in better locks. I pushed the door open and went to slink inside in the darkness. I knew I was going to scare the shit out of the girl, but surprise was key, and nothing was going to stop me from finding Race.

I had awesome night vision. It came from running around after dark, living my life on the wrong side of the law, and keeping my ass safe in prison. I saw the heavy object flying toward my head before it had a chance to make contact. I heard a soft voice swear and heard a dull thud as whatever it was hit the ground. I dodged around a swinging fist and moved just a fraction fast enough to avoid the static charge of a Taser that was shoved toward my side. I swore, got a hand around a delicate wrist, and twisted the weapon away. I saw her open her mouth to scream and clamped a heavy hand over it. She fought me all the way as I hauled her farther into the apartment.

“You call the cops already?” She nodded vigorously in my hold, which told me she hadn’t. If she had, she would’ve been stalling, buying time for them to get there, because it took forever for the police to show up in the Point.

“I just want to know where Race is. I know you know.”

She went still and stopped clawing at the back of my hand with blunt fingernails. She really did have coppery-red hair, a whole lot of it that was all up in my face as she tried to tilt her head back to look at my face.

“I’m not with the guy in the suit. Race and I go way back. If he’s in trouble, I want to help him, okay?”

I waited for what felt like an hour until she gave a stiff nod.

“If I let you loose, are you going to make me regret it?” She vehemently shook her head in the negative and I felt her hands fall to her sides. She was kind of tall for a girl. When I set her away from me and she spun around to glare at me in the dark, I noticed she just had to tilt her chin a fraction to look me in the eye.

“I’m getting real sick and tired of people thinking they can just bust in here and demand answers from me. Next time, I’m shooting them.”

She was pale, her milky skin a bright shadow in the darkened room. Her hair was a mess of red and gold curls and she had freckles. She looked like a kid. No older than sixteen or seventeen. She also looked like she should be on a farm somewhere in the Midwest. All kinds of earnest wholesomeness poured off of her, and there was no way her baggy jeans and frumpy plaid shirt belonged on someone used to making and taking in this part of the city.

“Get a better lock.”

She glared at me and pushed a handful of that wild hair out of her face.

“Good locks cost money and I still don’t know anyone named Race. So you and your buddy in the suit can still go fuck yourselves.”

Mouthy and brave. That was a dangerous combo when faced with a man who had nothing to lose. I didn’t have time to play games with her, so I took a threatening step forward just as she whirled around to turn on the light. I blinked for a second and saw her mouth tighten as we saw each other clearly. Her gaze locked on my face, but not on the battered and bruised part . . . on the star tattooed next to my eye.

“Carmen called me the second you left the diner. You don’t think when a guy who looks like you comes around we don’t warn each other? Paulie and Marco took down your plate number, and if I don’t flick the lights in five minutes, the cops are getting called and you don’t want to know what’ll happen to your very pretty car.”

I blinked like an idiot. No one ever got the drop on me. Not ever, and this girl, who looked like she should be out on a farm, sure as hell shouldn’t have been able to be the first one to do it.

“Why am I here, then?”

The cops didn’t scare me. Wild kids around my baby did.

She crossed her arms over an entirely unimpressive chest and narrowed eyes that were a pretty, leafy green at me. I tilted my head to the side, because for some reason, I thought she looked vaguely familiar.