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throng, and to his great annoyance Veronica stayed with him.
    When he reached the other side he turned. “Look. I’ve got a number of appointments today. I don’t have time to chat.”
    “Why don’t we—”
    She broke off. Three men had split from the crowd and approached them. The one in the middle, a huge man with a tattooed neck and a ponytail, grabbed Veronica by the elbow and tried to shove a sign into her hand. He reeked of alcohol, and was wearing an Army for Life T-shirt underneath a biker jacket. She tried to pull away, and he gripped her.
    Grey pressed his thumb into the hollow of the man’s throat, just enough to make him gag and let go. The man cursed and came at Grey with a wild swing. Grey stepped back to avoid the swing, but the man kept coming. Grey ducked the next swing and jabbed the man straight in the groin.
    The man’s head lowered as he sucked in air. Grey had already started rising, and he splayed the man’s nose with an upward knee. He then grabbed a fistful of ponytail and yanked him down by his hair at the same time he swept his legs out. The man crashed to the ground and stayed there.
    A man with thick arms and a beer gut stepped forward to check on his friend, while more men in biker jackets edged forward. Grey took Veronica by the elbow and backed away. “Just keep walking,” he murmured. “Gangs are like dog packs. They freeze if their leader’s taken out.”
    They kept backing away until they rounded a corner. They put some distance between themselves and the crowd, and Grey was surprised to see Veronica unruffled. “Thanks,” she said. “Heading back to Manhattan?”
    Grey nodded, and they continued walking briskly towards the train station. The din of the mob receded, replaced by the manufactured calm of the suburb.
    “Army for Life is a joke,” Veronica said, without breaking stride. “I know the name of the company you’re looking for, but I want to know why you’re looking for them. Does it involve the Minotaur, or something else?”
    “What’re you talking about?”
    “When you were fighting your jacket shifted. I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t carrying a gun. I don’t know any federal agents that don’t carry on assignment, or that take the train, even to Manhattan.”
    He kept walking. “Now you do.”
    She touched his arm. “I know biotech. Meet me for a drink, and maybe we can have an information tradeoff.”
    Grey saw the train station in the distance. He couldn’t wait to leave this place and its perfect lawns behind. Veronica slid a card into his pocket. “Look. Meet me for thirty minutes. I’ll give you the name whether or not you tell me anything. I don’t give a damn why you were here, or who you work for. You can’t lose.”
    She turned and began walking back the way they’d come. Grey called after her. “Not taking the train?”
    “My car’s a few streets back.”
    He watched her sway down the sidewalk, her high-heeled boots clacking her along faster than most people walk in flats.
Competence
, he thought,
that’s what that woman exudes
.
    He also thought that a woman like that didn’t go out of her way to walk a random man to his train. Not without a very good reason.

– 6 –
     
    T he woman next to Jax on the plane asked him if he always flew first class, and he shifted to answer her, looking her in the eyes to establish trust.
    Venezuela produced some remarkable examples of feminine perfection, including the Caraceña next to him: creamy beige skin, a hand resting on the inner curve of a firm thigh, flickering eyelashes hiding smoky moons, a chest that swelled up and down beneath her blouse as she gesticulated her words.
    “It’s my first time flying first class with such a lovely traveling companion.” He slipped in a grin. “Normally I get stuck with overweight gringos.”
    “You’re not a gringo?”
    “Only by birth.” He extended a hand. “Jax.”
    She smiled. “Graciela.”
    Maybe it was her hazel eyes, but