Trapezoid (The Base)

Chapter 17

Levi raised an eyebrow at the sight of the face behind Tony staring back at him. He might as well let the mask drop. His eyes darkened, a sinister grin pulling at his lips. He glanced behind the man once more time—then locked eye contact. "Seems like backup's here."

Tony's eyes flickered, a bit of color draining from his face. Levi could see the temptation to glance back etched in his steel blue eyes. He gave in for a quick glance—just the opening Levi needed.

He ripped the firearm from the gangster's hand—just as it went off—missing his bare foot by inches. Young's eyes turned void of emotion as a black-booted foot came into knockout contact with his head. His body crumbled onto the carpeted floor.

Levi found himself stunned, the unconscious form on the ground. Who had done that? As far as he knew, only two people were in the apartment—Tony and him. He'd been looking at his reflection in the mirror to trick the man into thinking someone else was in the room even though there wasn't—but then again, maybe there was.

His keen eye caught a dark figure flash past. He stuck his head out the doorframe, looking down the short hallway that led to the small living room and kitchen.

"Hey!" he almost screamed at the person escaping through the third-floor window of the living room. Someone had lost their wits! He cursed when the window's sash slid down, slamming on the hand. He hurried to the window, tightening the towel around his waist as he made his way over. He yanked it back up and closed his hand around the surprisingly delicate one. He pulled, almost frantically. The person dressed in a black one-piece outfit slumped into the floor like a wet noodle, long dark hair flowing down her back.

A woman.

He'd never uttered so much profanity in his life.

She rose to her feet, pulling her hair back out of her face. "Someone forgot to use mouthwash."

Levi stood several safe paces back. Was she a wannabe ninja? But she hardly had the looks of a felon. He was wary of the smile that crept on her pretty face—though she looked terribly familiar.

She made her way back over to the bedroom where Tony lay unconscious—like it was her territory. Levi followed her. Who was this? She went down on her haunches, injecting something into his neck. She rose, turning chirpily to face him. She placed her hands on her hips. "Smith gave me instructions to keep him alive."

She stepped out, brushing past him. She went back over to the window. She paused and turned to face him. A wide smile stretched across her face. "I'm Lisa Troy, by the way."

Oh. So D. Smith had decided to use the diner girl—the same one who couldn't pull a trigger. How pathetic. He made no effort to hide his thoughts. "Don't tell me you're the same woman who fainted at the sight of cops storming in."

He felt the fiery glare in her dark eyes. He returned it with a smirk. She tugged at the sleeve of her outfit, head held high. "I'll have you know that a lot has changed since then. And I always take my jobs seriously."

"Yeah, if knocking someone cold is the best you can do." He felt an inexplicable need to drive her cool away. He could've handled Young on his own. He had needed to for some reason—maybe to drive away some of his haunting thoughts. He needed to feel better about himself some way. Getting rid of the bad guys was the best way he could think of. The thoughts of Chris seemed to resurrect every other thing linked.

He felt pleasure in seeing her do her best keeping cool. "I gotta go." She didn't bother to suppress a grimace as she looked him up and down. "It ain't pretty fighting in a bath towel, anyway."