The smile vanished. His hand drifted toward his coat pocket. Milena didn't flinch. She just squeezed the pressure washer trigger at her hip. A thin, high-pressure jet of water shot past his knee and shattered a ketchup bottle on the diner patio table behind him.
Then, a low growl echoed off the concrete walls. Milena Velba Car wash
"Forgetting something?" she asked.