Free Hard to Stop by Wendy Byrne

with a guy who wore a sweatshirt and baseball cap. Leverage was impossible on the ground. They exchanged punches. Blood oozed into his mouth when the guy landed a hit to Max's jaw.
    A whistle sounding, along with shouting, broke into his awareness. The guy used the opportunity to skirt through the crowd and run through the door. Max took off after him but lost him within a few blocks once he hit Third Avenue.
    Shit.
    No doubt camera phones had captured the moment for prosperity. He could only hope it wouldn't lead to some kind of charges being leveled against him. He rolled back his shoulders and continued walking down the street before he snatched a cab for a ride into Brooklyn. He'd seen that guy before. He was betting that was where he might get some answers.
    Once again he hung out by the school, letting his duties as a trader fall to the wayside for a couple of hours. He kept his phone open for any alerts from Amanda, but he planned on getting the job done from afar for the foreseeable future.
    The lunch bell went off, and the students piled outside, gravitating to local fast food places. Seconds later Mick appeared, his hands stuck into the black hoodie covering his blue shirt and tie. Max waited outside when Mick ducked into a small grocery store.
    While he waited for the kid to come back outside, he took in the scene. Everyone in the neighborhood seemed to be engaged in normal lunchtime activities on a beautiful spring day—moms walking babies in strollers, teens chatting in groups while they munched on food. Nothing seemed unusual.
    At least until he spotted her. She wore tight black jeans and a loose-fitting sweatshirt top, with a hoodie covering her hair. The good detective was in disguise and spying on her own brother. If she weren't so focused on her brother, she would have spotted Max long ago.
    He examined her body language and spotted anxiousness in the way she fidgeted as she watched the storefront. Based on that alone, he knew this wasn't about her brother picking up a sandwich for lunch. Did they run numbers out of there? Or were they selling drugs out of the place? Maybe there was something else going on there he wasn't privy to.
    Before he could contemplate the matter any further, the kid rushed outside and started running. His sister charged after him, and Max brought up the rear.
    The detective caught up with her brother about a half block from the school. She was doing that finger-pointing thing at him. The way the kid's head kept shifting back and forth as if looking for something or someone made Max believe the kid was scared of something besides his sister.
    She grabbed the kid's arm. He shook her off and jutted out his chin. Even still, his expression remained a mixture of fear and anger. Her expression and body language told Max her nerves were frayed. Something big had happened, but at this point he could only speculate.
    Every time the kid went to walk away, she'd grab his arm and yank him back toward her. It seemed that neither of them was willing to let the other have the last word—or maybe he wasn't responding to the questions she asked.
    Finally, a bell rang at the school, and kids loitering outside made a beeline for the door. Mick did the same after a few more words from his sister, accompanied by yet another pointing-finger gesture.
    In order to find out if what just went down had anything to do with his search for Damon's killer, Max needed to confront her head-on. He came out of his hiding spot and stood in the middle of the sidewalk, arms crossed over his chest.
    Maybe he should be more uncomfortable about falling back into the saddle of his former life. If it weren't brought about by Damon's death, he might feel good about the easy transition.
    "Nice disguise, Detective."
    With a sense of distraction playing so clearly across her face, he wasn't surprised she would have missed him if he hadn't said something. Although he hadn't known her long, he couldn't help but know that was out