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and seemed embarrassed by it. Part of me was flattered he’d opened up to me, but another part knew the closer I got to Nick, the more dangerous things would become. And no matter how sexy Nick was, no matter how attracted to him I felt, he wasn’t a sure thing. Brett was. And I wasn’t about to risk what I had for something that might or might not ever be. Still, a part of me wondered where things would stand today if I’d met Nick first, before Brett.
    Truth was, if I’d met Nick first, I’d have jumped in with both feet. I would probably never have gotten to know Brett. He would’ve been no more than an attractive ticket taker at the Arboretum’s charity event.
    But I had met Brett first, and he was a wonderful, caring, considerate guy. He made me feel special, made me happy. I’d be a fool to throw that away. When it got down to it, I hardly knew Nick. Still, I felt an odd connection to him, an instinctual understanding, as if the two of us connected on some primitive level.
    Nick paid the tab and we left the bar. He drove the car to the federal building, parking it in the building’s lot next to a hail-dented Chevy Silverado pickup. I’d bought the truck a few weeks ago to smuggle Nick out of Mexico. He’d later taken it off my hands as a sign of his appreciation, paying me every cent I’d dropped on the thing plus a ten percent markup. Nick might be a badass, but he was a good guy, too.
    He made no move to get out of the car. Instead, he turned to me. “You and I make a good team.”
    “Sure. We’re both skilled and well trained.”
    He tilted his head, eyeing me. “Maybe there’s more to it than skills and training.”
    Uh-oh. Where was he going with this? And did I want to go there? I wasn’t sure what to say, so I said nothing.
    He didn’t say anything, either. After a few seconds, he turned away, looking out the front windshield. “See you tomorrow.” With that, he climbed out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition and leaving me hot and bothered.

 
    CHAPTER SIX
    Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
    Friday morning, I drove to the Lobo’s house, a green brick number with lavender shutters and trim. Needless to say, her neighborhood had no homeowners’ association with a persnickety paint approval committee. Also needless to say, Lu had a style all her own.
    I stepped to her door and rapped seven times in a quick beat. “Shave and a haircut, two bits.”
    After a moment, the Lobo opened her door.
    I forced a smile. “Hi, Lu,” I said. “You look great,” I lied.
    Bright orange go-go boots graced her feet, while a royal-blue minidress with a flared hem covered her pear-shaped body. The dress didn’t fit as snug as I remembered, though, and her cheeks looked sunken, her skin dull. What’s more, her always perky strawberry-blond beehive seemed to slump on top of her head. And was it just my imagination or was her hair thinner?
    Although the tumor the doctors found on Lu’s lung was small, its location near her heart made it inoperable. They’d decided to attack it with chemo. Today would be the Lobo’s second chemo treatment.
    Like Nick’s mother, Lu was a widow. Her middle-aged son had taken her to the hospital for her first appointment, but he’d had an important business meeting today. Since she had no other family in the area, I’d offered to drive Lu to and from the hospital and she’d grudgingly taken me up on it. Lu had always been a strong, independent woman and the fact that a cancerous tumor had dared invade her body made her madder than hell. She didn’t like being dependent on other people and she sure as hell didn’t want them feeling sorry for her. She was like Nick in that way. No wonder the two of them got along so well.
    Lu gripped a large purple can of extra-hold hairspray in her right hand. “I’m just finishing up.” She held the can aloft and pushed the nozzle, spraying a large cloud of the sticky substance into the air. I took a step back, waving the fumes out