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find Igor."
    * * *
    Fifteen minutes later, they were in Patrick's old Ford, heading to Coleman's mansion. Patrick's plan was bold and risky: an old-fashioned break and enter—with Igor's help, voluntary or not.
    "You're sure the big boy lives on the property?" He slanted her a glance.
    "I'm sure. Coleman bought the place five years ago by amassing four developed half-acre lots and tearing down the houses. But he kept one—the one farthest from the main house—as security central. And for Igor."
    "What about other staff?"
    "Lots of them. Gone by eight. After that, it's lockdown."
    "Yet no one else in the guardhouse?"
    "You've seen Igor." She raised a brow. "You don't think he's enough?"
    He half-smiled.
    She frowned. "You know this plan of yours is crazy. What makes you think Igor hasn't reported in already?"
    "Wake his boss from a sound sleep with the news he fucked up and you're still alive? I'm thinking there's a good chance that didn't happen."
    "Odds? Fifty-fifty at best."
    "Maybe so, but we'll find out soon enough—during our chat with Igor."
    She looked out the window. "And won't that be fun."
    "Did you call for backup?"
    She nodded. "They wanted to know my plan."
    "Did you tell them?"
    "Only what they needed to know—pretty much the same as you told me."
    "Trust me."
    The truth was Patrick's quickly formulated plan—obviously an epiphany while he was making her hot enough to combust—was pretty damn good. The plan was lean, direct, and immediate. Even though it did rely heavily on the element of surprise and a huge dollop of luck, it worked for her.
    What didn't work for her was what had happened back in her bedroom. Maybe he was right to pull away, but... Forget it, Gina, now's not the time to think about what might have been. You've got a job to do.
    Right.
    She got back in the game. "How about I trust the luck of the Irish?"
    "Good enough."

 
     
     
    Chapter 6

     
    A half hour later, they were parked a few yards from the Coleman estate. Gina pointed out a tidy, cottage-like house at the entrance to the property. "That's Igor's place."
    An unobtrusive security gatehouse, it was close to the street, on the left side of a long, curved driveway that led to the main estate.
    Patrick took a good look. "Damn." The house sat within the estate perimeters, behind mile-high, Transylvania-inspired iron gates that butted into hedges equally high on either side.
    "There has to be security triggers all over that gate and fence," she said.
    "Then it's a good thing we're not going over it."
    "What then?"
    "You, darlin', are going to ring Igor's gate bell. My bet is, he'll open it for you."
    She smiled, nodded. "A nice, friendly home invasion. I like it."
    "I figured you would."
    "In that case, if I'm the front man, you'd better have this." She dug into her tote, pulled out a Glock, and handed it to him.
    Patrick eyed the gun as if it were a coiled cobra. "And here I was hoping I'd never see one of those again." He took it and shoved it into the pocket of his leather windbreaker. He might not like it, but he'd use it without hesitation if Igor laid one meaty paw on Gina.
    "Some kind of cop you are."
    "Not a cop. Remember? Not anymore."
    After giving him a hard stare, and taking a moment of silence, she said, "Right—and when this is over, maybe you'll tell me why."
    "Maybe. Maybe not."
    Apparently, she had no answer for that, so all she said was, "We'd better go. Stay close. We get through the Dracula gate, and we're home free."
    * * *
    Patrick stood back, well out of camera range, as Gina pushed the gate's buzzer, and put her face squarely on camera. He heard every word.
    "What you want? Dumb crazy ." The big guy sounded rattled. Probably wasn't every day an intended murder victim rang his bell.
    Gina said, "We need to talk."
    "No talk. You go way."
    "Have you told your boss I'm still alive yet?"
    Silence.
    She went on, "That's good. Because you know how he deals with failure, Igor."
    Another beat of silence, then, "Name