Chapter 3

“In living color,” Brody said tightly. “I was thirty-four and they finally let me go undercover to bring down a drug dealer we were after. A feather in my cap, as far as I was concerned, since I’d been trying to get them to let me do undercover work. Anyway, I was walking down the street, about a week after I made it into the dealer’s gang. It was around two in the morning and I was heading to a meet. Some bastard shot me—once in the back, once in the shoulder. Irrsquo;d bled out by the time someone found me. rdquo;

“Damn,” Jon whispered. “You were a cop?”

“Yeah.” Brody almost smiled. “A good one, until that happened. It made all the papers. They never found out who did it, even though it probably had to be someone in the gang who figured out I was a cop and decided to eliminate me. I guess I wasn’t as good at undercover work as I thought I was,” he added dryly.

“That sucks.”