Free For the Love of Pete by Julia Harper

know her cared about her safety. The thought kind of made her shiver.
’Course protecting people is his job,
a practical voice inside her head drawled.
    Practical voices could be such downers.
    Zoey replied totally without thinking. “Okay.”
    Okay
was a simple everyday word, but it felt like more in this case. Like she’d made a pact with him. He’d keep her safe; she’d trust him to do it. Which was weird, because it wasn’t like she did the whole male-protector thing, as a rule. Actually, it was usually the opposite—she hadn’t totally trusted a man since Dad had done his walkout when she was a teenager.
    “Okay,” he replied, and now it was too late. Their pact—if it even was a pact—was sealed.
    Dante signaled and turned off the main road, passing little shops lit by strings of white Christmas lights. He drove a couple of blocks and then turned into an upscale mall. Even though it was evening, the lot was crowded; one end of the mall was anchored by a twenty-four-hour health club. Dante slowed the BMW and started cruising up and down the parking lot.
    “What are you doing?” Zoey asked. Maybe he felt an overwhelming urge to do bench presses when he was under stress. Except he wasn’t parking the car.
    “I’m looking.”
    “For what?”
    “Hush,” he said absently. “Can’t you be quiet for more than two minutes?”
    “Hey! I’m a real quiet person. You just don’t—”
    “Aha!”
    “Aha?” Zoey looked at him incredulously. “Who says
Aha?
”
    “Bitch, bitch, bitch,” he muttered, but he said it lightly, not really paying attention to her because he was parking the car. He set the emergency brake and jumped out without explanation.
    “Hey!” Zoey scrambled out of the car, wrapping her arms around herself as the cold winter wind hit her. With the sun down, the temperature had dropped ten degrees or more. Dante was at the rear of the BMW, popping the trunk. She watched as he pulled out a soft-sided toolbox and started rummaging in it. “What—?”
    “Really. Try to be quiet now.”
    Zoey rolled her eyes. He was enjoying being mysterious, she could tell. This silence stuff was just to impress her.
    He found a screwdriver and walked to the nearest car. Only now did she notice that it was a black convertible Beemer and . . . She squinted. It looked like the same model as Dante’s car.
    “Hey.”
    “Shhh.”
    He squatted by the back of the car, the skirt of his black trench coat pooling at his feet, and started working on the license plate cover. He had it off in a few seconds and walked over to his Beemer, taking his plates off and switching them with the other black Beemer’s. In another few minutes he’d completed the job, stowed away the screwdriver, and slammed the trunk lid shut.
    Zoey glanced at Dante as she got back into the car. He had a satisfied expression on his face—not quite a smile, but the kind of look that guys got when they thought they’d been very clever.
    “Nice,” she said.
    He shrugged modestly as he put the car in gear and drove out of the health club parking lot.
    “’Course I’ve seen that in the movies,” Zoey continued carelessly.
    His too-handsome face fell.
    She took pity. “But it was pretty smart anyway.”
    “Thanks.”
    She grinned at him.
    “I’m hungry.” He signaled to get back on the main road. “Let’s get something to eat.”
    “You’re taking me out?”
    “Yup. To a drive-thru.”
    “Be still my heart,” Zoey muttered.
    “Then I’m going to find these old ladies.” He looked at her. “And get your niece back.”

Chapter Eleven
    Thursday, 8:34 p.m.
    T hat is not the correct way to fasten a diaper such as this one,” Savita-di said bossily to Pratima over the wailing of the blond baby she held on her hip.
    They were in a tiny basement apartment belonging to Abdul. Abdul was the janitor at their restaurant—a kindly old man who did not seem to have a word of English. He worked extremely slowly, but he was prompt and