Read Outlaw Justice (Decorah Security Series, Book #13): A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novella for Free Online

motored toward one of the Fells Point piers. After one of the nearby boat owners attached the line for him, Steve went down and called Decorah Security on the company’s secure line.
    Frank answered, and before Steve could say anything, his boss warned, “The cops came here. They’ll looking for you and Leah.”
    “Shit.”
    “Don’t stay on the line. We see your location from your phone. Turn it off. You can pick up the car that’s parked near the Visionary Arts Museum.”
    “Thanks.”
    When he clicked off, he saw Leah staring at him.
    “It looks like you got some bad news.”
    “Yeah. That was Frank Decorah, my boss. He says the cops came there looking for us, which means that we can’t go to a Decorah safe house because I can’t implicate them in this.”
    “I understand,” she said in a thin voice. “Warren was pretty clever—the way he cut me off from help.”
    “Yeah. But you have me. And there’s a Decorah car in the area.”
    “Why?”
    “One of Frank’s contingency plans. It’s across the harbor. But before we go over there, you probably want to buy a hat and maybe a different shirt from one of the shops on Broadway.” He thought for a moment. “Actually, I could use a change of clothes and a toothbrush.”
    “You think the cops know we’re here?” she asked.
    “I hope not, but I’m not taking any chances.”
    Steve made a quick call to Jerry to tell him where the boat was moored. From the dock, they walked over to a funky apparel shop where Leah bought a loose-fitting gauze shirt and a wide-brimmed sun hat and Steve picked up an Orioles cap and a dark tee shirt. There was a dollar store a few doors down where he bought a cheap carry bag, underwear, and a toothbrush. After changing in the rest rooms, they took the water taxi across the harbor to the street below Federal Hill where the Decorah car was parked.
    Steve stooped down to get the keys from the right front wheel well. Once he’d opened the car, he reached into the glove compartment where he found an envelope with a thousand dollars in small bills.
    Leah eyed the money
    “Decorah leaves that kind of cash lying around?”
    “Yeah, they figure that if you need to pick up a car, you might not be able to use your credit card either.”
    “What would we have done without a car?”
    “Maybe stolen one.”
    “Seriously?”
    “If it was my only option.”
    “And the money? Were you going to rob someone?”
    He laughed. “I don’t think I’d go that far.”
    “But you’re not sure?”
    “Let’s be glad Decorah came through for us.”
    “It sounds like you hooked up with an interesting outfit.”
    “I thank my lucky stars that Frank Decorah found me.”
    “How?”
    He laughed. “In a bar. He started a conversation with me, and I realized it wasn’t just a coincidence.”
    “Are you going to tell me more about that?”
    “When we’ve got the time.”
    As he drove away from the parking spot, she asked, “What now?”
    “We need to get off the street.”
    Steve had been a cop in this city, much of the time patrolling Pig Town, a working class area in the southwest section of the city. It had gotten its name in the second half of the nineteenth century when it was filled with butcher shops and slaughterhouses.
    Now it was a mixed neighborhood of condos, apartments and typical Baltimore row houses, some with original brick facades and others modernized with the artificial mica-specked stone that was popular in the fifties and sixties.
    Steve headed for the older section of town and cruised slowly down a street of row houses. He slowed when he saw The Hot Spot bar.
    “It’s a little rough in there,” he told Leah. “But they have rooms upstairs for rent.”
    As he spoke, the door of the Hot Spot opened and two guys came out, swinging at each other. One turned and fled. The other took off after him.

Chapter Seven
    “You’re sure this is where you want to stay?” Leah asked.
    “Yeah. The high-class atmosphere makes