Author - Skip Williams

she carried the cups back to the bedroom.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting
soft patterns on the bedroom walls.

Jake stirred as Julianna entered, her footsteps quiet
but deliberate.

She held two steaming mugs of coffee, the
rich, dark aroma filling the room.

“Coffee delivery,” she said with a sly smile,
handing him one of the mugs.

Jake sat up, his hair mussed and his
eyes still heavy with sleep.

He took the mug, inhaling deeply before taking
a sip.

“You’re spoiling me,” he said, his voice low
and rough.

“Don’t get used to it,” she replied, sitting
on the edge of the bed.

Jake reached out, his hand curling around hers.

His thumb brushed over the fresh bandage on
her wrist.

“How’s the hand?” “It’s better,” Julianna admitted.

“Not great, but better.” Jake’s gaze softened, and
he tugged her closer, setting the mug aside.

“You’re tougher than you look, you know that?”
Julianna arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging
at her lips.

“I think you’ve mentioned that once or twice.”
She laughed softly, her cheeks warming as they
locked eyes.

There was something unspoken between them, a shared
understanding that went beyond words.

The tension of the past days melted away
as Jake pulled her into a firm embrace,
their lips meeting in a deep, passionate kiss.

His expression softened further, and he brushed a
strand of hair from her face.

“Maybe, you bring out the best in me,”
he said simply.

Julianna leaned into Jake, resting her head against
his chest.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a
stark contrast to the chaos that had defined
their recent days.

“You were incredible yesterday,” Jake murmured, his fingers
brushing a stray strand of hair from her
face.

Julianna looked up at him, her eyes glinting
with a mix of warmth and determination.

“And you?

You’re a better partner than I give you
credit for.” Jake’s lips quirked into a small
smile.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” For a
while, they sat in comfortable silence, the weight
of the world temporarily held at bay.

The danger was still out there, but for
now, in this small, quiet house, they found
a fleeting moment of peace.

Chapter 25: She Was Hot Later that afternoon
and evening, Jake and Julianna shared an unspoken
agreement: they needed a break.

The relentless chase, gunfire, and tension of the
past days had taken their toll.

For the rest of the day, they decided
to shed the weight of their troubles and
let the world outside their bubble fade, and
Julianna needed time to heal.

Over the rim of her coffee mug, Julianna’s
gaze softened.

“Let’s play tourists today,” she said, her tone
almost wistful.

“Take the day off.

See the city like normal people.” Jake leaned
back in his chair; one eyebrow raised.

“Tourists, huh?

You think strolling through the sights is going
to fool anyone?” Julianna smirked.

“Sometimes, blending in means living like you belong.

We could use a reset.

Even you need a day off now and
then.” Jake’s lips quirked into a reluctant smile.

“Fine.

But no souvenir photos.” He understood the importance
of a reset, and blending in was part
of survival.

They hired a cab driver for the day,
a friendly middle-aged man named Raul, who spoke
enough English to navigate their requests and delighted
in sharing tidbits about his city.

The streets of Mexico City were a vibrant
symphony of life, from the staccato honks of
weaving taxis to the melodic calls of street
vendors peddling tamales and trinkets.

Raul, their cab driver for the day, navigated
the chaos with the precision of a maestro,
weaving through narrow lanes and gesturing to landmarks
with practiced ease.

“That’s the Palacio de Bellas Artes,” Raul said,
gesturing grandly toward the gleaming white building with
its colorful domed roof.

“Diego Rivera’s murals are inside.

A true

---

Part 41 of Sympathy for the Devil

Next part drops in two days.

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his movements deliberate and quiet.

The kitchen was small but functional, with a
chipped tile backsplash and mismatched wooden cabinets.

A single overhead light cast a warm glow
over the room, softening its worn edges.

Jake pulled out a frying pan and set
it on the stove, the clatter making Julianna
stir slightly but not wake.

The rich aroma of garlic and onions sizzling
in a pan wafted through the small house,
mingling with the faint scent of rain on
warm pavement drifting in through the open window.

Julianna stirred in the armchair, blinking groggily as
her senses caught up with her.

She stretched, wincing slightly at the pull in
her wrist, and looked toward the kitchen.

Jake stood at the stove; his movements uncharacteristically
relaxed as he stirred the pan.

“You’re full of surprises,” she murmured, her voice
raspy with sleep.

Jake glanced over his shoulder, a faint smile
playing on his lips.

“Figured you could use a proper meal.

Ice and coffee only get you so far.”
Julianna smirked, then set up straight.

“If this is your way of impressing me,
you’re off to a good start.” She flexed
her fingers experimentally, wincing.

“It helps, I think.

What are you cooking?” Ignoring the question, Jake
walked over with a glass of water and
the pain pills.

“Take two of these and let me wrap
your wrist.” Julianna accepted the pills with a
raised eyebrow, swallowing them quickly.

She watched as Jake crouched beside her, carefully
winding the ace bandage around her wrist.

His touch was firm but gentle, his focus
uncharacteristically tender.

“You’re full of surprises,” she said softly, her
lips curving into a small smile.

“Didn’t know you had a nursemaid streak.” “Don’t
get used to it,” Jake replied, though the
corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“You’re lucky I’m a sucker for tough women.”
She laughed quietly, the sound more a breath
than a chuckle.

“I’ll take it.” Jake returned to the stove,
stirring the contents of the pan while they
talked about the last 24 hours.

They replayed the chase, the gunfire, and the
tension, their voices low and reflective.

Julianna’s fatigue caught up with her mid-sentence, her
words trailing off as her head lolled back
against the chair.

When Jake turned around, she was sound asleep
again, her wrist resting on her lap, now
securely bandaged.

He shook his head, a mixture of amusement
and affection softening his expression.

Gently, he lifted her into his arms, her
body warm and pliant against him.

The bedroom was small, its furnishings sparse but
clean.

Jake laid her on the bed, tucking a
blanket around her before brushing a stray strand
of hair from her face.

She murmured something unintelligible but didn’t wake.

Back in the kitchen, Jake sat at the
table with his plate of food, the room
was quiet except for the faint hum of
the refrigerator.

He ate slowly, his thoughts churning.

The events of the last day played out
in his mind like a reel, each moment
sharp and vivid.

Despite the temporary respite, he knew the danger
was far from over.

But for now, he let the stillness wash
over him, grounding him for the battles yet
to come.

The next morning, Jake and Julianna both slept
well into the day, their bodies demanding rest.

It was Julianna who woke first, her wrist
still tender but slightly less swollen.

She padded quietly to the bathroom, wincing as
she flexed her hand, then showered under the
warm spray, letting the water wash away the
grime and stress of the last two days.

After dressing and carefully re-wrapping her wrist, she
made her way to the small kitchen.

The house smelled faintly of the dinner Jake
had made, now just a memory in the
quiet morning.

She brewed coffee, the rich aroma filling the
space as she poured two steaming mugs.

Balancing them carefully,

---

Part 40 of Sympathy for the Devil

Next part drops in two days.

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charge,” she muttered, her tone half-heartedly sharp.

Jake smirked, shouldering the gear.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She glared at him,
her pride evident in the tightness of her
jaw, but relented, stepping aside as Jake hefted
the bags over his shoulder.

She fished the keys from her pocket and
moved to unlock the front door.

The key slipped from her fingers and clattered
to the ground.

“Damn it,” she hissed, bending down awkwardly to
retrieve it.

Her hand shook as she tried to slot
the key into the lock, her movements clumsy
and pained.

“Here,” Jake said, taking the keys gently from
her.

“Just get inside.” He opened the door and
carried the bags in, setting them down in
the living room.

Julianna sank into a worn but comfortable armchair,
cradling her injured wrist.

Jake returned from the kitchen with a makeshift
ice pack, condensation already forming on the dish
towel.

He knelt beside Julianna, gently taking her hand
in his.

“This will help with the swelling,” he said,
his voice unusually tender.

She winced as he placed the ice on
her wrist, but a faint smile tugged at
her lips.

“You know, for someone who spends most of
his time breaking things, you’re surprisingly good at
fixing them.” Jake chuckled.

“Don’t get used to it.

This is a one-time deal.” Julianna leaned back,
closing her eyes as the ice numbed the
pain.

“You’re a liar,” she murmured, a teasing lilt
in her voice.

“And you’re stubborn, you know that?” Jake said,
a hint of a smile tugging at the
corner of his mouth.

“Takes one to know one,” she shot back,
though her words were tinged with fatigue.

Jake stood, stretching his back.

“I’m going to go ditch the truck and
grab some supplies.

Do you need anything?” Julianna opened her eyes,
the corners crinkling slightly as she gave a
tired smile.

“More ice.

And coffee.

Lots of coffee.” “Got it,” he said, grabbing
a second set of keys from the counter.

“Rest.

I’ll be back soon.” As the front door
clicked shut behind him, Julianna exhaled slowly, leaning
further back in the chair.

The dull throb in her wrist was growing
more insistent, each pulse a reminder of their
chaotic escape.

She glanced around the room, taking in the
familiar surroundings of the safe house.

It had been a refuge for her before,
and now a place where they could catch
their breath, plan their next moves, and feel,
if only temporarily, removed from the dangers that
constantly shadowed them.

But tonight, the sense of safety felt tenuous.

Every creak of the house, every distant car
engine, set her nerves on edge.

Her hand throbbed, but she barely noticed as
her mind drifted back to the events of
the evening, the chase, the gunfire, the tension.

She closed her eyes again, willing herself to
relax, but sleep wouldn’t come easily.

Jake parked the truck three blocks away, his
movements methodical as he wiped down the interior
and handles with a rag.

Every action was calculated, a routine etched into
muscle memory.

As he locked the truck, he took one
last look at the vehicle before vanishing into
the shadows.

At the corner tienda, Jake moved swiftly, grabbing
bandages, painkillers, and a few staples to tide
them over.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh
glow over the neatly packed shelves.

The cashier barely glanced at him, accustomed to
late-night visitors with hurried steps and quiet voices.

When Jake returned to the house, Julianna was
slumped in the chair, her head tilted to
one side.

Her chest rose and fell in the steady
rhythm of sleep.

The bag of ice had slipped from her
wrist, melting into a damp spot on the
fabric of the armchair.

Jake smiled faintly, shaking his head.

Even stubbornness had its limits.

He set the groceries on the kitchen counter
and began unpacking,

---

Part 39 of Sympathy for the Devil

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door as Julianna floored the gas.

The huge pickup truck’s engine roared to life,
almost catapulting them down the street instantly.

Julianna gripped the wheel tightly as they went
sideways around the corner, the tires squealing in
protest.

The pursuit was on.

Every nerve in Jake’s body was electric, his
mind racing with calculations.

He glanced at Julianna, her jaw tight and
her eyes locked on the road ahead.

“We can’t lose him,” she said through gritted
teeth, weaving the truck through the streets in
pursuit of the battered sedan.

“We won’t,” Jake assured her, loading a fresh
clip into his rifle.

“Not tonight.” “There!” Jake’s voice cut through the
tense silence as he spotted the battered sedan
limping further down the street, its rear bumper
dragging sparks against the asphalt.

Julianna gritted her teeth, her knuckles white against
the steering wheel.

“Let’s finish this.” She pressed the accelerator, the
truck’s engine roaring as they closed the gap.

The sedan swerved erratically, the injured driver struggling
to maintain control.

As the chase barreled toward a busy intersection,
Jake’s sharp eyes caught the telltale flash of
a garbage truck’s headlights from the left.

“Julianna…” “Got it,” she snapped, her focus razor-sharp.

With precision honed by years of high-stakes escapes,
Julianna slammed the truck into the back of
the sedan, the force sending the smaller car
skidding into the intersection.

The garbage truck had no time to stop.

It plowed into the sedan, the sound of
crunching metal and shattering glass filling the air.

Julianna quickly veered right, guiding the truck into
the morning traffic and blending seamlessly with the
commuters.

Jake glanced back, the wreckage receding into the
distance.

“Well,” he said, his voice tinged with dark
humor, “that’s one way to take out the
trash.” Julianna smirked, but her eyes remained on
the road.

“Let’s hope they don’t have backup.” Chapter 24:
Gimme Shelter The silence inside the truck was
heavy, punctuated only by the rhythmic hum of
the tires on the asphalt.

Julianna kept her eyes on the road, her
jaw set in concentration, while Jake occasionally glanced
her way.

The adrenaline that had propelled them through their
escape was wearing thin, leaving behind an almost
palpable exhaustion.

As they drove further, the rough edges of
the city began to soften, the barrios giving
way to tree-lined streets and modest homes with
tidy lawns.

Jake noticed Julianna’s right hand resting on the
wheel, her left hand doing most of the
work.

She rubbed her wrist absentmindedly, her movements tense.

“Did you get hurt?” Jake asked, his voice
cutting through the quiet.

Julianna flexed her fingers and winced.

“I think I sprained it pretty bad in
that collision.” Jake frowned.

“Pull over, let me drive.” “I’m fine,” she
snapped, then softened her tone.

“We’re almost there anyway.” He didn’t push further,
though his eyes lingered on her wrist, now
visibly swollen.

They turned onto a quiet cul-de-sac, the houses
modest but well-kept.

The safe house, an unassuming one-story home with
a red-tiled roof and ivy climbing the front
facade, came into view.

The truck rolled to a stop in the
driveway, the engine ticking as it cooled.

Julianna gripped the wheel for a moment longer
than necessary, her fingers trembling slightly.

The ivy-covered house stood quiet and unassuming, the
promise of safety within its modest walls beckoning
them.

Jake noticed the tension in her shoulders as
she exhaled sharply, the exhaustion of the night
finally catching up to her.

“We made it,” he said softly, his voice
carrying a note of reassurance.

Julianna nodded, but when she reached back for
the duffel bag, her injured wrist betrayed her,
shaking under the strain.

“Stop,” Jake said firmly, stepping out of the
truck and coming around to her side.

“I’ve got it.

You’re done for tonight.” She hesitated, pride warring
with practicality, before conceding.

“Fine.

But don’t start acting like you’re in

---

Part 38 of Sympathy for the Devil

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take shotgun.” A sedan was parked in front
of the house.

One of the Sicarios was helping his injured
partner into the passenger seat, their movements hurried
but purposeful.

The sound of distant sirens pierced the air,
growing louder with each passing second.

“The cops are on their way,” Julianna said,
her voice low.

“What’s the play?” Jake’s eyes narrowed.

“Just play it cool and follow them.

Let’s see where they lead us.” Julianna nodded,
pulling the truck onto the road.

She took a side street, circling back with
a right turn and then two lefts until
they were comfortably behind the sedan.

The Sicarios wove through the city streets, their
route erratic but with a clear destination in
mind.

The neighborhood began to change as they moved
deeper into the city.

The lights grew dimmer, the roads rougher.

Graffiti-covered walls and abandoned buildings loomed on either
side.

Julianna tightened her grip on the wheel, her
jaw set.

“This isn’t exactly the scenic route.” “No,” Jake
agreed.

“But it’s exactly where I’d expect them to
go.” The Sedan finally slowed, pulling into the
cracked driveway of a dimly lit veterinary clinic.

The neon sign buzzed weakly, its letters flickering
and casting an eerie green hue over the
scene.

The building was small and decrepit, its windows
barred and its paint peeling.

Jake parked the truck a block away, tucked
into the shadows of an abandoned warehouse.

He turned to Julianna, his expression serious.

“We’ve got them cornered.

Let’s make it count.” “I’ll take the high
ground,” Jake said, grabbing his rifle from the
back.

“You stay here and cover the entrance.

Let’s make sure they don’t leave.” Julianna nodded,
retrieving her hunting rifle and settling into the
back seat of the truck.

Her heart pounded as she adjusted her scope,
her breaths coming slow and steady.

Jake moved silently through the factory, finding a
broken window with a clear line of sight
to the clinic.

He spoke into his earpiece, his voice calm
but firm.

“Let me take the first shot on the
uninjured one.

You finish what I didn’t with the wounded
guy.” “Got it,” Julianna replied, her tone steady
despite the tension coiling in her chest.

Through his scope, Jake watched the uninjured Sicario
placed near the entrance, his hand resting on
a pistol.

The injured man remained slumped in the passenger
seat, his head leaning back against the headrest.

Jake’s finger hovered over the trigger; his mind
razor-focused.

“Steady,” he muttered to himself, exhaling slowly.

The crosshairs aligned with the target’s chest.

Julianna’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Jake squeezed the trigger.

The bullet hit its mark, spraying blood across
the clinic’s front door.

The previously uninjured Sicario crumpled instantly, his body
collapsing onto the pavement.

Julianna shifted her focus, expecting the first wounded
Sicario to exit the sedan and check on
his partner.

Instead, he slid across the seat into the
driver’s position and started the engine, the car
lurching forward with erratic, jerky movements.

“Damn it!” Julianna hissed, steadying her aim.

She fired twice, the shots ringing through the
night, but the car fishtailed violently, throwing off
her trajectory.

Sparks flew as the sedan sideswiped a parked
car, its rear bumper hanging precariously.

Jake, still in the factory, attempted another shot,
but the wounded Sicario swerved the car sharply,
disappearing into the narrow side street.

“He’s getting away!” Julianna called through the earpiece;
her voice tight with frustration.

She climbed back into the driver’s seat of
their truck, gripping the wheel.

“Get your ass down here, Jake.

Now!” “Already on my way,” Jake replied, his
voice calm despite the rush of adrenaline surging
through him.

Jake sprinted down the factory stairs, rifle slung
over his shoulder.

As he reached the truck, Julianna had already
started rolling forward.

Jake swung the passenger door open and dove
inside.

“Go, go!” he shouted, slamming the

---

Part 37 of Sympathy for the Devil

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food truck, their senses sharp despite the calm.

The air inside the car grew heavy with
the scent of spicy meat and diesel fumes.

“Do you ever think about doing something else?”
Julianna asked suddenly, her voice softer than usual.

Jake raised an eyebrow.

“Something else?

Like what?

Accountant?

Librarian?” She smirked.

“You’d make a terrible librarian.” “True,” Jake said,
grinning.

“What about you?” Her smile faded slightly.

“I’ve thought about it.

But what’s the point?

This life… it’s all I know.” Jake was
about to reply when he noticed a pair
of headlights creeping slowly down the street.

He sat up straighter, his muscles tensing.

“Hold that thought.” The car crawled past them;
its occupants hidden behind dark-tinted windows.

Jake and Julianna exchanged a glance but said
nothing.

Minutes later, the car looped back around, parking
in front of the house where Julianna’s phone
was located.

Two men stepped out, their movements deliberate and
unhurried.

“That’s them,” Jake murmured, sliding out of the
passenger seat.

“Stay here and be ready to move.” Julianna
nodded, her eyes following Jake as he crouched
low and moved toward the rear of their
car.

From the shadows, he rested his rifle across
the trunk, steadying his aim.

The two men walked toward the house, their
postures rigid, almost mechanical.

Jake exhaled slowly, his pulse steadying as he
lined up his shot.

His rifle rested on the car’s trunk; its
scope locked on one of the two men
walking toward the house.

The faint sound of their boots crunching against
gravel carried through the still night.

When he squeezed the trigger, the rifle’s muffled
crack shattered the silence.

The bullet struck true, and the man staggered
backward before crumpling to the ground.

The second man spun around instantly; his pistol
drawn.

Muzzle flashes lit up the darkness as he
fired wildly, the shots sparking off the car
and sending Jake diving for cover.

“Get ready to move!” Jake yelled over his
shoulder.

Julianna didn’t hesitate.

She slammed the car into gear, the tires
squealing as they tore away from the curb.

Jake barely managed to slide into the passenger
seat, the door slamming shut behind him as
bullets ricocheted off the rear bumper.

“They’re still shooting!” Julianna yelled, gripping the wheel
tightly.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Jake replied, his voice dry,
despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

He twisted in his seat, watching the figures
recede in the distance.

“Keep going.

They won’t be catching up anytime soon.” Julianna
glanced at him; her knuckles white against the
steering wheel.

“So much for a quiet stakeout.” Jake laughed,
the tension easing slightly.

“Yeah, not exactly by the book.” Jake rubbed
his temples, thinking fast.

“We don’t have time to regroup.

Quick, let’s find another car and circle back.”
Julianna nodded; her gaze focused on the road
ahead.

“Let’s hope they’re licking their wounds and not
ready for battle.” Jake’s lips curved; his smile
grim.

“They may be relentless, but they’ll regret coming
after us.” As they rounded a corner, Julianna’s
sharp gaze landed on a battered 4X4 pickup
truck sitting beneath a flickering streetlight.

She hit the brakes, the sedan skidding slightly
as she pointed to the vehicle.

“That one,” she said, already calculating how quickly
Jake could get it running.

Jake jumped out, darting toward the truck with
practiced efficiency.

Within moments, the door was open, wires exposed,
and the engine growled to life.

Julianna pulled up beside him, tossing their gear
into the truck bed before sliding into the
passenger seat.

“Let’s see if our friends are still around,”
Jake steered the truck back toward the scene
of the shootout.

The pickup’s engine growled as they navigated the
quiet streets, tension crackling between them.

When they arrived, the neighborhood was eerily silent.

Jake parked in the shadows of an alley,
his eyes scanning the area.

“There,” he whispered, pointing, and added, “You drive,
I’ll

---

Part 36 of Sympathy for the Devil

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flanked by two armed guards.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his bravado
had been replaced by raw fear.

“Patrón, I… I can explain.” “Manuel,” El Patrón
interrupted, his voice a low growl.

“How could you betray me?” Manuel, wrists bound,
stood flanked by two armed guards.

He swallowed hard, his bravado from the night
before replaced with fear.

“Patrón, I didn’t betray you.

I was expanding opportunities” “Expanding opportunities?” El Patrón
interrupted, slamming his fist on the table.

“You were lining your pockets and jeopardizing my
operations.

Do you take me for a fool?” Manuel
shook his head desperately.

“No, Patrón.

I swear.

It was a deal…” “What deal?” El Patrón
demanded.

“Speak.” Manuel hesitated; his throat dry as he
searched for words.

The guard to his right raised his pistol,
the barrel cold against Manuel’s temple.

“Talk,” the guard ordered, his tone devoid of
mercy.

Manuel stammered, his voice cracking under the weight
of the moment.

“It was… it was the A***n Circle.

They approached me.

They wanted our product to establish dominance in
the southern cities.

They paid well, very well.” El Patrón’s expression
darkened, his hand curling into a fist.

“The A***n Circle,” he repeated, his voice dripping
with disdain.

“You allied with white supremacists?

Betrayed my organization for their blood money?” “It
wasn’t betrayal!” Manuel protested.

“It was… business.

Their methods were effective.

They helped secure territory quickly.” “Quickly,” El Patrón
said, standing slowly.

The air in the room seemed to shift
as his towering presence loomed over Manuel.

“And how much of this blood money did
you skim for yourself, Manuel?” Manuel stammered, but
the guards behind him yanked him back by
the collar.

“Speak!” one of them barked.

Chapter 23: Street Fighting Man As Jake stirred
his coffee absently, the realization hit him like
a punch to the gut.

Sitting at the café table with Julianna, he
couldn’t shake the weight of his mistake.

They had broken the cardinal rule of their
trade: plan, strike, and vanish.

Instead, they had lingered, giving their enemies time
to regroup and close in.

“We stayed too long,” Jake muttered, his voice
low, more to himself than to Julianna.

He glanced at her, her calm demeanor belying
the tension simmering beneath the surface.

“We’ve trapped ourselves here until we finish this
war.” Julianna tilted her head slightly, her sharp
eyes studying him.

“Then let’s finish it,” she said simply, her
tone steady and resolute.

Jake leaned forward in his chair, stretching his
elbows back in preparation for the next step.

“Do you think we can track the phone
you tossed earlier?” he asked Julianna.

She smirked, opening her laptop and typing quickly.

“Of course.

GPS should still be active unless someone’s tampered
with it.” A map flickered to life on
the screen, a blinking dot marking the phone’s
location.

“Here it is, pinging from where I dropped
it all the way to where it is
now.” Jake’s eyes narrowed as he studied the
map.

“Let’s stake it out.

Better we chase them, than the other way
around.” Julianna grinned; her sharp features alight with
anticipation.

“You always know how to make a girl’s
day.” An hour later, they were parked in
a dusty gray sedan that Jake had hotwired
without breaking a sweat.

The car, with its peeling paint and cigarette
burns in the upholstery, was perfect for disappearing
into the city’s patchwork of forgotten neighborhoods.

The blinking dot on Julianna’s laptop screen marked
their target’s location, less than a block away.

Jake leaned back in the driver’s seat, scanning
the quiet street through the rearview mirror.

“Not exactly the Beverly Hills,” he said, his
tone dry.

Julianna smirked; her eyes fixed on the screen.

“No, but it’s where the trouble is.” Jake
added.

“Yeah, perfect for keeping a low profile.” The
hours passed slowly.

They passed the time with idle chatter and
burritos from a nearby

---

Part 35 of Sympathy for the Devil

Next part drops in two days.

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