The Governor’s Suite, for Christ’s sake. The kid was nothing if not ballsy. Nine-fifty a night, no less, plus another three grand in clothes and sundries. How in the world did either of them think that they were going to get away with this? He supposed it made sense for Brad—it was probably the way he was wired—but Nicki knew better. This was grand larceny! Was she out of her mind? He was already planning her legal defense. First things first, he told himself. Get her away from that killer boyfriend, and everything else will be negotiable. Could the elevator ride possibly take any longer? They’d waited in the downstairs lobby just long enough for members of the Tactical Unit to arrive with their machine guns and battering rams. The air in the car reeked of sweat and gun oil. Carter felt woefully small and under-armed among these men. “Please be careful when you go in,” Carter begged. “She won’t be armed.” The biggest man on the team—Brooks, according to his embroidered name badge—said to Warren, “Lieutenant, I really wish we had not brought him along for this.”
