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She must have been mid twenties I would guess. She began to look towards me and pout full ruby colored lips.I took all this detail in on the first instant I had seen her. The next instant I had bailed from the bike and dived under the tailgate of an abandoned pickup, rolling into cover.She was an obvious trap bait. I rolled over, drawing my revolver from my hip holster (the rest of my artillery being strapped to the bike that was plowing through a florists window across the street. I saw him just as I heard the shots, lifted the revolver and fired. I got lucky and he toppled from the window above the door where the girl had stepped out of. Another glance and she was nowhere to be seen. I scanned everywhere trying to figure out whether there was another shooter or if the girl was on her own.“Anyone in there, come out with your hands up before I throw a grenade in!” I yelled. I didn’t have a grenade. They didn’t know that.A moment later I could see the legs of the girl from the knees. "Lena says the same thing. And that she can fill us in, if necessary."After another interminable pause, her mother asked "Why didn't you tell us all this before?" You were already so worried, and there was so much going on, and there were the things I can't talk about ... it just seemed like the right thing to do. I'm sorry." she ended, miserably.She found herself engulfed in hugs from both sides."We just worry, Angel. As I said before, it's in the job description. I understand there are things you can't tell us, about the spa and the theater, and maybe some other things. But I don't want you to hesitate to tell us the other things." She gave a little laugh. "Ok, there will always be things you don't want to share with your poor old parents, but I mean the important things. I would really rather find out about something dangerous from you than see it on the tube. Or hear about it around the office."They put the dishes in the sink, and moved into the living room. Angel's father.
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