CHAPTER 7
THE ENGINE IN Jed’s vintage Porsche 911 grumbled as he steered through traffic and hit the brakes for a red light. He caressed the steering wheel sympathetically. This car wasn’t designed for city driving. He’d spent two years restoring the silver beast, and normally he’d take any excuse to get behind the wheel, but today he was on autopilot. Good thing he’d made the journey to Washington, DC so many times.
Beside him, Emmy, a friend, colleague, ex, and occasional irritation, shifted her stocking-clad feet on the dashboard. The high-heeled pumps she’d kicked off lay in the footwell. “Why’d you stop?”
“Because the light was red?”
“Barely. You could’ve made it.”
And she undoubtedly would have, but today Jed was the one in the driver’s seat. They’d begun the trip arguing about
