What's next?

The fire escape.

The fire escape clanked.

The drone buzzed.

Phone cameras clicked and flashed. The busy Brooklyn street was full of people, all looking up and pointing and laughing at Detective Rosa Diaz. Who was not happy. And also not wearing any clothes. The cafe hipsters cheered and came to the edge of the rooftop to watch her rattle down the iron stairs as fast as she could go, one hand gripping the rail for balance, the other pressed firmly between her legs.

Every window she came to was locked from the inside. Gina wasn't going to let her off that easily.

She lowered herself down the ladder, well-toned brown bottom flexing with exertion, and dropped down onto the street, near the mouth of an alleyway. Her back was turned, but she could see the reflection of the street in the building window. She growled with inarticulate rage as a pair of cyclists zoomed by her, one of them almost falling off his bike as he realised he'd just passed a beautiful naked woman. People were still pointing.

This wasn't acceptable. Nobody played Rosa Diaz like this. She had to get out of here. When she got her clothes back, Linetti was going to pay. But first, she had to get her clothes back.

She heard a familiar voice from the mouth of the alleyway.

"Rosa! Come on!"

"Santiago? How did you get in there?"

"No time to explain! Hurry up!"