The smile in the dark moved closer, like it had its own gravity.

Raven’s back hit the wall. Cold brick. Nowhere to go. The pistol lay two feet away, a mocking glint in the half-light.

A gloved hand appeared first, sliding into view before the rest of him followed tall, lean, dressed head-to-toe in black. The air around him carried the faint, expensive bite of cologne.

“You run pretty well for someone wearing those boots,” the man said, voice low and smooth, the kind that could slip ...