SomethingAboutYou

JulieJames

Publisher:PenguinGroup(USA)
*ISBN-13:9781101185803
*ISBN-10::1101185805
*Categories:Fiction-Romance-Suspense

Acknowledgments

Tomyamazingeditor,WendyMcCurdy,forherinputandwisdom,andforknowingwhatIwantedtodowiththisbookbeforeIfully
realizeditmyself.ThanksalsotoKathrynTumen,KatherinePelz,andtheentireteamatBerkleyforalltheirsupport.

To my agent, Susan Crawford, for her encouragement and unflagging enthusiasm, and to Christine Garcia for all her great ideas and
dedication.

AspecialthankstoKatiDancy,forherfantasticinsightandfeedbackonthemanuscript.EvenifsheisoffherrockerwhenitcomestoMr.
Reynolds.

ThankstoJohnMehochko,foransweringmyquestionsaboutthedailylifeofanAssistantU.S.Attorney,andtomyfather-in-law,forhis
knowledgeofthetechnicalaspectsofcriminalinvestigations.

I’ve been very blessed to have met, both in person and online, the greatest group of reviewers, bloggers, readers, and fans an author
couldaskfor.Youladies—andyouknowwhoyouare—trulyrock.

Tomyfriendsandfamily,foralltheirloveandsupport.Andtomyson,whoalwaysputsasmileonmyfaceandwhoistoodarncutefor
words.

Andlastly,thanksespeciallytomywonderfulhusband,Brian,whohonestlyseemstoknowjustabouteverything(boy,amIgoingto
regretputtingthatinwriting),andforhisnever-endingencouragement.

One

THIRTY THOUSAND HOTEL rooms in the city of Chicago, and Cameron Lynde managed to find
onenextdoortoacouplehavingasexmarathon.

“Yes!Ohyes!YES!”

Cameronpulledthepillowoverherhead,thinking—asshehadbeenthinkingforthepasthourand

ahalf—thatithadtoendsometime.Itwasafterthreeo’clockinthemorning,andwhileshecertainly
had nothing against a good round of raucous hotel sex, this particular round had gone beyond
raucous and into the ridiculous about fourteen “oh-God-oh-God-oh-Gods” ago. More important,
even with the discounted rate they gave federal employees, overnights at the Peninsula weren’t
typicallywithinthemonthlybudgetofanassistantU.S.attorney,andshewasstartingtogetseriously
POedthatshecouldn’tgetalittlepeaceandquiet.

Bam! Bam! Bam! The wall behind the king-sized bed shook with enough force to rattle her

headboard,andCameroncursedthehardwoodfloorsthathadbroughthertosuchcircumstances.

Earlierintheweek,whenthecontractorhadtoldherthatshewouldneedtostayoffherrefinished

floorsfortwenty-fourhours,shehaddecidedtotreatherselftosomemuch-neededpampering.Just
last week she had finished a grueling three-month racketeering trial against eleven defendants
charged with various organized criminal activities, including seven murders and three attempted
murders.Thetrialhadbeenmentallyexhaustingforeveryoneinvolved,particularlyherandtheother
assistantU.S.attorneywhohadprosecutedthecase.Sowhenshe’dlearnedthatsheneededtobeoutof
herhousewhilethefloorsdried,shehadseizedontheopportunitytoturnitintoaweekendgetaway.

Maybe other people would have gone somewhere more distant or exotic than a hotel three miles

from home, but all Cameron had cared about was getting an incredibly overpriced but fantastically
rejuvenatingmassage,followedbyatranquilnightofR&R,andtheninthemorningabrunchbuffet
(againincrediblyoverpriced)whereshecouldstuffherselftothepointwheresherememberedwhy
shemadeitageneralhabittostayawayfrombrunchbuffets.Andtheperfectplaceforthatwasthe
Peninsula.

Orsoshehadthought.

“Suchabig,badman!Rightthere,ohyeah—rightthere,don’tstop!”

Thepillowoverherheaddidnothingtodrownoutthewoman’svoice.Cameronclosedhereyesin

asilentplea.DearMr.BigandBad:Whateverthehellyou’redoing,don’tyoumovefromthatspot
untilyougetthejobdone.Shehadn’tprayedsohardforanorgasmsincethefirst—andlast—time
she’d slept with Jim, the corporate wine buyer/artist who wanted to “find his way” but who didn’t
seemtohaveacluehowtofindhiswayaroundthekeypartsofthefemalebody.

Themoaningthathadstartedaround1:30A.M.waswhathadwokenherup.Inhergroggystate,her

first thought had been that someone in the room next door was sick. But quickly following those
moans had been a second person’s moans, and then came the panting and the wall-banging and the
holleringandthenthatpartthatsoundedsuspiciouslylikeabuttcheekbeingspanked,andsomewhere
aroundthatpointshehadcluedintothetruegoings-onofroom1308.

WhaMA-WhaMA-WhaMA-WhaMA-WhaMA-WhaMA...

The bed in the room next door increased its tempo against the wall, and the squeaking of the

mattress reached a new, feverish pitch. Despite her annoyance, Cameron had to give the guy credit,
whoever he was, for having some serious staying power. Perhaps it was one of those Viagra
situations,shemused.Shehadheardsomewherethatonelittlepillcouldgetamanupandrunningfor
overfourhours.

Sheyankedthepillowoffherheadandpeeredthroughthedarknessattheclockonthenightstand

nexttothebed:3:17.Ifshehadtoendureanothertwohoursandfifteenminutesofthisstuff,shejust
might have to kill someone—starting with the front desk clerk who had put her in this room in the
firstplace.Weren’thotelssupposedtoskipthethirteenthfloor,anyway?Rightnowshewaswishing
shewasamoresuperstitiouspersonandhadaskedtobeassignedanotherroom.

Infact,rightnowshewaswishingshe’dnevercomeupwiththewholeweekendgetawayideaand

insteadhadjustspentthenightatCollin’sorAmy’s.Atleastthenshe’dbeasleepinsteadoflistening
to the cacophonous symphony of grunting and squealing—oh yes, the girl was actually squealing
now—thatwasthecurrentsoundtrackofherlife.Plus,Collinmadeameancheddarandtomatoegg-
whiteomeletthat,whilelikelynotquitetheequivalentofthedelicaciesonemightfindatthePeninsula
buffet,would’veremindedherwhyshe’dmadeitageneralhabittolethimdoallthecookingwhen
thethreeofthemlivedtogethertheirsenioryearofcollege.

Wheewammawamma-BAM!Wheewammawamma-BAM!

Cameronsatupinbedandlookedatthephoneonthenightstand.Shedidn’twanttobethatkindof

guestthatcomplainedabouteverylittleblemishinthehotel’sfive-starservice.Butthenoisefromthe
roomnextdoorhadbeengoingonforalongtimenowandatacertainpoint,shefeltasthoughshe
was entitled to some sleep in her nearly four-hundred-dollar-per-night room. The only reason the
hotel hadn’t already received complaints, she guessed, was due to the fact that 1308 was a corner
roomwithnooneontheotherside.

Cameron was just about to pick up the phone to call the front desk when, suddenly, she heard the

mannextdoorcallouttheglorioussoundsofhersalvation.

Smack!Smack!

“Ohshit,I’mcooommmminnggg!”

Aloudgroan.Andthen—

Blessedsilence.Finally.

Cameronfellbackontothebed.Thankyou,thankyou,Peninsulahotelgods,forgrantingmethis

tiny reprieve. I shall never again call your massages incredibly overpriced. Even if we all know it
doesn’tcost$195torublotiononsomeone’sback.Justsaying.

Shecrawledunderthecoversandpulledthecreamdownduvetuptoherchin.Herheadsankinto

thepillowsandshelaythereforafewminutesasshebegantodriftoff.Thensheheardanothernoise
nextdoor—thesoundofthedoorshutting.

Camerontensed.

Andthen—

Nothing.

All remained blissfully still and silent, and her final thought before she fell asleep was on the

significanceofthesoundofthedoorshutting.

Shehadasneakingsuspicionthatsomebodyhadjustreceivedafive-starbootycall.

BAM!

Cameron shot up in bed, the sound from next door waking her right out of her sleep. She heard

muffledsquealingandthebedslammedagainstthewallagain—harderandlouderthanever—asifits
occupantswerereallygoingatitthistime.

Shelookedattheclock:4:08.She’dbeengivenawhoppingthirty-minutereprieve.

Not wasting another moment—frankly, she’d already given these jokers far too much of her

valuablesleeptime—shereachedoverandturnedonthelampnexttothebed.Sheblinkedashereyes
adjustedtothesuddenburstoflight.Thenshegrabbedthephoneoffthenightstandanddialed.

Afteronering,amanansweredpleasantlyontheotherend.“Goodevening,Ms.Lynde.Thankyou

forcallingGuestServices—howmaywebeofassistance?”

Cameronclearedherthroat,hervoicestillhoarseasherwordstumbledout.“Look,Idon’twantto

beajerkaboutthis,butyouguyshavegottodosomethingaboutthepeopleinroom1308.Theykeep
bangingagainstthewall;there’sbeenallsortsofmoaningandshoutingandspankingandit’sbeen
going on for, like, the last two hours. I’ve barely slept this entire night and it sounds like they’re
gearingupforroundtwentyorwhatever,whichisgreatforthembutnotsomuchforme,andI’m
kindofatthepointwhereenoughisenough,youknow?”

The voice on the other end was wholly unfazed, as if Guest Services at the Peninsula handled the

falloutfromfive-starbootycallsallthetime.

“Ofcourse,Ms.Lynde.Iapologizefortheinconvenience.I’llsendupsecuritytotakecareofthe

problemrightaway.”

“Thanks,”Camerongrumbled,notyetwillingtobepacifiedthateasily.Sheplannedtospeaktothe

managerinthemorning,butfornowallshewantedwasaquietroomandsomesleep.

Shehungupthephoneandwaited.Afewmomentspassed,thensheglancedatthewallbehindthe

bed. Things had fallen strangely silent in room 1308. She wondered if the occupants had heard her
calling Guest Services to complain. Sure, the walls were thin (as she definitely had discovered
firsthand),butweretheythatthin?

Sheheardthedoortoroom1308open.

Thebastardsweremakingtheirescape.

Cameronflewoutofbedandrantoherdoor,determinedtoatleastgetalookatthesexfiends.She

pressedagainstthedoorandpeeredthroughthepeepholejustasthedoortotheotherroomshut.For
abriefmoment,shesawnoone.Then—

Amansteppedintoview.

Hemovedquickly,appearingslightlydistortedthroughthepeephole.Hehadhisbacktowardheras

hepassedbyherroom,soCamerondidn’tgetthegreatestlook.Shedidn’tknowwhatthetypicalsex
fiendlookedlike,butthisparticularonewasonthetallersideandstylishinhisjeans,blackcorduroy
blazer,andgrayhoodedT-shirt.Heworethehoodpulledup,whichwaskindofunusual.Astheman
crossedthehallwayandpushedopenthedoortothestairwell,somethingstruckherasoddlyfamiliar.
Butthenhedisappearedintothestairwellbeforeshecouldplaceit.

Cameron pulled away from the door. Something very strange was going on in room 1308 . . .

Maybethemanhadfledthescenebecausehe’dheardhercallGuestServicesandwasabandoninghis
partnertodealwiththefalloutalone.Amarriedman,perhaps?Regardless,thewomanin1308was
goingtohavesomeserious’splainingtodooncehotelsecurityarrived.Cameronfigured—sinceshe
alreadywasawake,thatis—thatshemightaswelljustsititoutrightthereatthepeepholeandcatch
thefinalact.Notthatshewaseavesdroppingoranything,but...okay,shewaseavesdropping.

She didn’t have to wait long. Two men dressed in suits, presumably hotel security, arrived within

the next minute and knocked on the door to 1308. Cameron watched through the peephole as the
securityguardsstaredexpectantlyatthedoor,thenshruggedateachotherwhentherewasnoanswer.

“Shouldwetryagain?”theshortersecurityguardasked.

Thesecondguynoddedandknockedonthedoor.“Hotelsecurity,”hecalledout.

Noresponse.

“Areyousurethisistherightroom?”askedthesecondguy.

Thefirstguycheckedtheroomnumber,thennodded.“Yep.Thepersonwhocomplainedsaidthe

noisewascomingfromroom1308.”

HeglancedoveratCameron’sroom.Shetookastepbackasiftheycouldseeherthroughthedoor.

ShesuddenlyfeltveryawareofthefactthatshewaswearingonlyherUniversityofMichiganT-shirt
andunderwear.

Therewasapause.

“Well,Idon’thearathingnow,”Cameronheardthefirstguysay.Hebangedonthedoorathird

time,louderstill.“Security!Openup!”

Stillnothing.

Cameron moved back to the door and looked out the peephole once again. She saw the security

guardsexchangelooksofannoyance.

“They’reprobablyintheshower,”saidtheshorterguy.

“Probablygoingatitagain,”theotheroneagreed.

The two men pressed their ears to the door. On her side of the door, Cameron listened for any

soundofashowerrunninginthenextroombutheardnothing.

Thetallersecurityguardsighed.“Youknowtheprotocol—wehavetogoin.”Outofhispockethe

pulledwhatpresumablywassomesortofmasterkeycard.Hesliditintothelockandcrackedopen
thedoor.

“Hello?Hotelsecurity—anyoneinhere?”hecalledintotheroom.

Helookedoverhisshoulderathispartnerandshookhishead.Nothing.Hesteppedfartherinand

gesturedforthesecondguytofollow.Bothmendisappearedintotheroom,outofCameron’sview,
andthedoorslammedshutbehindthem.

There was a momentary pause, then Cameron heard one of the security men cry out through the

adjoiningwall.

“Holyshit!”

Herstomachdropped.Sheknewthenthatwhateverhadhappenedin1308,itwasn’tgood.Uncertain

whatsheshoulddo,shepressedhereartothewallandlistened.

“TryCPRwhileIcall9-1-1!”oneofthemenshouted.

Cameron flew off the bed—she knew CPR—and raced to the door. She threw it open just as the

shortersecurityguywasrunningoutof1308.

Seeing her, he held up his hand, indicating she should stop right where she was. “Ma’am—please

getbackinyourroom.”

“ButIheard—IthoughtIcouldhelp,I—”

“We’vegotitcovered,ma’am.Nowpleasestepbackintoyourroom.”Herushedoff.

Perthesecurity’sguardorder,Cameronremainedinherdoorway.Shelookedaroundandsawthat

otherpeopleinthenearbyroomshadheardthecommotionandwerepeeringintothehallwaywith
mixedexpressionsoftrepidationandcuriosity.

After what seemed like forever but what was probably only minutes, the shorter guy returned

leadingapairofparamedicspullingagurney.

As the trio raced past Cameron, she overheard the security guard explaining the situation. “We

foundherlyingthereonthebed...ShewasnonresponsivesowebeganCPRbutitdoesn’tlookgood
...”

Bythistime,additionalstaffhadarrivedonthescene,andawomaninagraysuitidentifiedherself

asthehotelmanagerandaskedeveryonetoremainintheirrooms.Cameronoverheardhertellthe
other members of the staff to keep the hallway and elevator bank clear. The thirteenth floor guests
spokeamongstthemselvesinlowmurmurs,andCameroncaughtsnippetsofconversationsasaguest
fromoneroomwouldaskanotherifheorsheknewwhatwashappening.

A hush fell over the crowd when the paramedics reappeared in the doorway of room 1308. They

movedquickly,pullingthegurneyoutintothehall.

Thistime,therewasapersononthatgurney.

AstheyhurriedpastCameron,shecaughtaglimpseoftheperson—aquickglimpse,butenoughto

see that it was a woman, and also enough to see that she had long red hair that fanned out in stark
contrasttothewhiteofboththesheetonthegurneyandthehotelbathrobeshewore.And,shesaw
enoughtoseethatthewomanwasn’tmoving.

While one of the paramedics pushed the gurney, the other ran alongside it, pumping oxygen

throughahandheldmaskthatcoveredthewoman’sface.Thetwosecurityguardsracedaheadofthe
paramedics,makingsurethehallwaywasclear.Cameron—andapparentlyseveraloftheotherhotel
guestsaswell—overheardtheshorterguardsayingsomethingtotheotheraboutthepolicebeingon
theirway.

At the mention of the police, a minor commotion broke out. The hotel guests demanded to know

whatwashappening.

Themanagerspokeabovethefray.“Icertainlyunderstandthatallofyouhaveconcerns,andIoffer

youoursincerestapologiesforthedisturbance.”Sheaddressedtheminacalm,genteeltonethatwas
remarkablysimilartothatofthemanfromGuestServiceswhoCameronhadspokenonthephone
withearlier.Shewonderediftheyalltalkedthatwaytoeachotherwhennocustomerswerearound,
or if they dropped the charm routine and that vague, quasi-European-even-though-I’m-from-
Wisconsinaccenttheminutetheyhitthelunchroom.

“Unfortunately,atthispointIcantellyouonlythatthesituation,obviously,isveryseriousandmay

becriminalinnature,”themanagercontinued.“Wewillbeturningthismatterovertothepolice,and
we ask that everyone remain in their rooms until they arrive and assess the situation. It’s likely the
policewillwanttospeakwithsomeofyou.”

The manager ’s gaze fell directly upon Cameron. As the crowd fell back into their murmurs and

whispers,shewalkedover.“Ms.Lynde,isit?”

Cameronnodded.“Yes.”

The manager gestured to the door. “Would you mind if I escorted you back into your room, Ms.

Lynde?”ThiswasPolite-Peninsula-Hotel-speakfor“Youmightaswellgetcomfortablebecauseyour
eavesdroppingassisn’tgoinganywhere.”

“Ofcourse,”Cameronsaid,stillsomewhatshell-shockedbytheeventsthathadtranspiredoverthe

lastfewminutes.AsanassistantU.S.attorney,she’dhadplentyofexposuretothecriminalelement,
but this was different. This was not some case she was reviewing through the objective eyes of a
prosecutor;therewerenoevidencefilesneatlypreparedbytheFBIorcrimescenephotostakenafter
thefact.Shehadactuallyheardthecrimethistime;shehadseenthevictimfirsthandand—thinking
backtothemanintheblazerandhoodedT-shirt—verypossiblythepersonwhohadharmedheras
well.

Thethoughtsentchillsrunningdownherspine.

Or,Cameronsupposed,maybethechillhadsomethingtodowiththefactthatshewasstillstanding

intheair-conditionedhallwaywearingnothingbutherT-shirtandunderwear.

Classy.

Withasmuchdignityasonecouldmusterwhilebralessandwithoutanypants,Camerontuggedher

T-shirtdownanextrahalf-inchandfollowedthehotelmanagerintoherroom.

Two

SOMETHINGWASN’TRIGHT.

Cameron had been trapped inside her hotel room for nearly two hours while the Chicago Police

Department supposedly conducted their investigation. She knew enough about crime scenes and
witnessquestioningtoknowthatthiswasnotstandardprotocol.

For starters, nobody was telling her anything. The police had arrived shortly after the hotel

manager escorted her back into her room. A middle-aged, slightly balding and extremely cranky
DetectiveSlonskyintroducedhimselftoCameronandtookaseatinthearmchairinthecornerofthe
hotelroomandbegantotakeherstatementaboutwhatshehadheardthatnight.Althoughshehadat
leastbeengiventwosecondsofprivacytothrowonyogapantsandabra,shestillfounditawkward
tobequestionedbythepolicewhilesittingonahastilymadehotelbed.

The first thing Detective Slonsky noticed was the half-empty glass of wine that she had ordered

from room service still sitting on the desk where she’d left it hours before. That, of course, had
prompted several preliminary questions regarding her alcohol consumption over the course of the
evening.AftersheseeminglymanagedtoconvinceSlonskythat,no,shewasnotaragingalcoholic
and,yes,herstatementatleasthadamodicumofreliability,theymovedpasttheboozeissueandshe
commentedonthefactthatSlonskyhadintroducedhimselfas“Detective”insteadof“Officer.”She
askedifthatmeanthewaspartofthehomicidedivision.Iffornootherreason,shewantedtoknow
whathadhappenedtothegirlinroom1308.

Slonsky’s sole response was a level stare and a curt, “I’m the one asking the questions here, Ms.

Lynde.”

Cameronhadjustfinishedgivingherstatementwhenanotherplain-clothesdetectivestuckhishead

intotheroom.“Slonsky—youbettergetinhere.”Henoddedinthedirectionoftheroomnextdoor.

SlonskystoodandgaveCameronyetanotherlevelstare.Shewonderedifhepracticedthelookin

hisbathroommirror.

“I’dappreciateitifyouwouldremaininthisroomuntilIgetback,”hetoldher.

Cameron smiled. “Of course, Detective.” She was debating whether to pull rank in order to start

gettingsomeanswers,butshewasn’tquiteatthatpoint.Yet.She’dbeenaroundcopsandagentsallher
lifeandhadalotofrespectforwhattheydid.ButthesmilewastoletSlonskyknowthathewasn’t
gettingtoher.“I’mhappytocooperateinanywayIcan.”

Slonskyeyedhersuspiciously,probablytryingtodecidewhetherheheardahintofsarcasminher

voice.Shegotthatlookalot.

“Juststayinyourroom,”hesaidashemadehisexit.

ThenexttimeCameronsawDetectiveSlonskywasahalfhourlater,whenhedroppedbyherroom

toletherknowthat,duetocertain“unexpecteddevelopments,”shewouldnotonlyhavetoremainin
herroomlongerthananticipated,butthathewaspostingaguardatherdoor.Headdedthat“ithad
beenrequested”thatshenotmakeanycallsfromeitherhercellphoneorthehotellineuntil“they”
hadfinishedquestioningher.

Forthefirsttime,Cameronwonderedwhethershepersonallywasintrouble.“AmIconsidereda

suspectinthisinvestigation?”sheaskedSlonsky.

“Ididn’tsaythat.”

Shenoticedthatwasn’tofficiallya“no.”

AsSlonskyturnedtoleave,shethrewanotherquestionathim.“Whoare‘they’?”

Hepeeredoverhisshoulder.“Excuseme?”

“YousaidIcan’tmakeanycallsuntil‘they’finishquestioningme,”Cameronsaid.“Whowereyou

referringto?”

Thedetective’sexpressionsaidthathehadnointentionofansweringthatquestion.“Weappreciate

yourcontinuedcooperation,Ms.Lynde.That’sallIcansayfornow.”

AfewminutesafterSlonskyleft,Cameronlookedoutherpeepholeand—sureenough—wastreated

totheviewofthebackofsomeman’shead,presumablytheguardhehadstationedoutsideherdoor.
Sheleftthedoorandwentbacktosittingonthebed.Cameronglancedattheclockandsawthatitwas
nearly7:00A.M.Sheturnedonthetelevision—Slonskyhadn’tsaidanythingaboutnotwatchingTV,
afterall—andhopedthatmaybeshewouldseesomethingaboutwhateverwashappeningonthenews.

She was still pushing buttons on the remote, trying to figure out how to get past that damn hotel

“Welcome”screen,whenthedoortoherroomflewopenoncemore.

Slonskystuckhisheadin.“Sorry—notelevisioneither.”

Heshutthedoor.

“Stupidthinwalls,”Cameronmutteredunderherbreath.Notthatanyonewaslistening.Thenagain.

..

“CanIatleastreadabook,DetectiveSlonsky?”sheaskedtheemptyroom.

Apause.

Thenavoicecamethroughthedoor,fromthehallway.

“Sure.”

And indeed the walls were so thin, Cameron could actually hear the faint trace of a smile in his

answer.

“THISISGETTINGridiculous.Ihaverights,youknow.”

Cameron faced off against the cop guarding the door to her hotel room, determined to get some

answers.

Theyoungpoliceofficernoddedsympathetically.“Iknow,ma’am,andIdoapologize,butI’mjust

followingorders.”

Maybeitwasherfrustrationatbeingcoopedupinherhotelroomforwhatwasnowgoingonfive

—yes, five—hours, but Cameron was going to strangle the kid if he ma’am-ed her one more time.
She was thirty-two years old, not sixty. Although she’d probably given up the right to be called
“Miss”somewherearoundthetimeshehadstartedthinkingoftwenty-two-year-oldman-boypolice
officersaskids.

Decidingthatthrottlingacopwasprobablynotthebestwaytogowhenpresumablydozensmore

stood right outside her door (she couldn’t say for sure; she hadn’t been permitted to even look out
into the hallway, let alone step a toe out there), Cameron tried another tactic. The man-boy clearly
respondedtoauthority,maybeshecouldusethattoheradvantage.

“Look,Iprobablyshould’vementionedthisearlier,butI’manassistantU.S.attorney.Iworkoutof

theChicagooffice—”

“If you live in Chicago, what are you doing spending the night in a hotel?” Officer Man-Boy

interrupted.

“I’mredoingmyhardwoodfloors.Thepointis—”

“Really?”Heseemedveryinterestedinthis.“BecauseI’vebeentryingtofindsomebodytoupdate

mybathroom.Thepeoplewhoownedtheplacebeforemeputinthiscrazyblackandwhitemarble
andgoldfixturesandtheplacelookslikesomethingoutofthePlayboyMansion.MindifIaskhow
youfoundacontractortotakeonajobthatsmall?”

Cameroncockedherhead.“Areyoutryingtosidetrackmewiththesequestions,ordoyoujusthave

someweirdfascinationwithhomeimprovement?”

“Possiblytheformer.Iwasunderthedistinctimpressionthatyouwereabouttobecomedifficult.”

Cameronhadtohidehersmile.OfficerMan-Boymaynothavebeenasgreenasshe’dthought.

“Here’s the thing,” she told him, “you can’t keep me here against my will, especially since I’ve

already given my statement to Detective Slonsky. You know that, and more important, I know that.
There’s clearly something unusual going on with this investigation, and while I’m willing to
cooperate and give you guys a little leeway as a professional courtesy, I’m going to need some
answersifyouexpectmetokeepwaitinghere.Andifyou’renotthepersonwhocangivemethose
answers,that’sfine,butthenI’dlikeitifyoucouldgogetSlonskyorwhoeveritisthatIshouldbe
talkingto.”

OfficerMan-Boywasnotunsympathetic.“Look—Iknowyou’vebeenstuckinthisroomforalong

time,buttheFBIguyssaidthatthey’regonnatalktoyouassoonastheyfinishnextdoor.”

“Soit’stheFBIwho’srunningthis,then?”

“Iprobablywasn’tsupposedtosaythat.”

“Whydotheyhavejurisdiction?”Cameronpressed.“Thisisahomicidecase,right?”

OfficerMan-Boydidn’tfallforthebaitasecondtime.“I’msorry,Ms.Lynde,butmyhandsaretied.

TheagentinchargeoftheinvestigationspecificallysaidI’mnotallowedtotalktoyouaboutthis.”

“ThenIthinkIshouldspeaktotheagentincharge.Whoisit?”AsaprosecutorfortheNorthern

DistrictofIllinois,shehadworkedwithmanyoftheFBIagentsinChicago.

“Somespecialagent—Ididn’tcatchhisname,”OfficerMan-Boysaid.“AlthoughIthinkhemight

knowyou.Whenhetoldmetoguardthisroom,hesaidhefeltbadforstickingmewithyouforthis
long.”

Camerontriednottoshowanyreaction,butthatstung.True,shewasn’texactlybuddy-buddywitha

lot of the FBI agents she worked with—many of them still blamed her for that incident three years
ago—butwiththeexceptionofoneparticularagentwho,fortunately,wasmilesawayinNevadaor
Nebraskaorsomething,shehadn’tthoughtthatanyoneintheFBIdislikedherenoughtoopenlybad-
mouthher.

OfficerMan-Boylookedapologetic.“Forwhatit’sworth,Idon’tthinkyou’resobad.”

“Thanks.Anddidthisunknownspecialagentwhoallegedlythinksheknowsmehaveanythingelse

tosay?”

“OnlythatIshouldgogethimifyoustartactingfussy.”Helookedherover.“You’regoingtostart

actingfussynow,aren’tyou?”

Cameronfoldedherarmsacrossherchest.“Yes,IthinkIam.”Anditwouldn’tbeanact.“Yougo

find this agent, whoever he is, and tell him that the fussy woman in room 1307 is through being
jerkedaround.AndtellhimthatIwouldappreciateitverymuchifhecouldwrapuphislittlepower
tripandcondescendtospeaktomehimself.BecauseIwouldliketoknowhowlongheexpectsmeto
sithereandwait.”

“ForaslongasIaskyouto,Ms.Lynde.”

Thevoicecamefromthedoorway.

Cameronhadherbacktothedoor,butshewould’verecognizedthatvoiceanywhere—lowandas

smoothasvelvet.

Itcouldn’tbe.

Sheturnedaroundandtookinthemanstandingacrosstheroomfromher.Helookedexactlythe

sameashedidthelasttimeshe’dseenhimthreeyearsago:tall,dark,andscowling.

She didn’t bother to mask the animosity in her voice. “Agent Pallas . . . I didn’t realize you were

backintown.HowwasNevada?”

“Nebraska.”

Fromhisicylook,Cameronknewthatherday,whichhadalreadybeenofftoamostinauspicious

start,hadjustgottenaboutfiftytimesworse.

Three

CAMERONWATCHEDWARILYasJack,akaFBISpecialAgentPallas,lookedoveratOfficerMan-
Boy.

“Thankyou,Officer,Icantakeitfromhere,”hesaid.

Thepoliceofficermadeahastyretreat,leavingheraloneinthehotelroomwithJack.Hisgazewas

stonecold.

“Thisisquiteamessyou’vegottenyourselfinvolvedin.”

Cameronstraightenedup.Threeyearshadpassed,andhestillmanagedtoputherimmediatelyon

the defensive. “I wouldn’t know. Thanks to you, I have no clue what I’m involved in.” She paused,
hatingbeingoutofthelooponwhateverwasgoingon.“Whathappenedtothewomannextdoor?”

“She’sdead.”

Cameron nodded. The presence of CPD detectives had pretty much given that away, but the

confirmation of the woman’s death shocked her nevertheless. She suddenly felt an overwhelming
urgetogetoutofthathotelroom.ButsheforcedherselfnottoshowanyreactioninfrontofJack.

“I’msorrytohearthat,”shesaidsimply.

Hegesturedtothechairinfrontofthedesk.“Whydon’tyoutakeaseat?Ineedtoaskyousome

questions.”

“Doyouintendtointerrogateme,AgentPallas?”

“Doyouintendtobeuncooperative,Ms.Lynde?”

Shelaughedhollowly.“Why?Areyougoingtogetroughwithme?”

Hiseyesremainedsteelyanddark.Cameronswallowedandmadeamentalnotetobecarefulwhen

tauntingamanwhocarriedagunandblamedherfornearlywreckinghiscareer.

Sherememberedthedaythreeyearsagowhenthey’dfirstmettodiscusstheMartinocase.She’d

neverworkedwithJackbefore;atthatpointshe’donlybeenaprosecutorforayearandhehadbeen
working undercover that entire time. She had been surprised—but eagerly so—when her boss
assignedhertheMartinoinvestigation,oneofthemosthigh-profilecasesinthedistrict.RobMartin
(akaRobertoMartino)waswidelyknownbyboththeBureauandtheU.S.attorney’sofficetobethe
headofoneofthelargestcrimesyndicatesinChicago.Theproblemhadalwaysbeengettingenough
evidencetoprovethis.

Which is precisely where Special Agent Jack Pallas came in. Prior to their meeting, Cameron

learned from her boss that Jack had worked undercover for two years to infiltrate Martino’s
organization,untiltheFBIhadbeenforcedtopullhimoutwhenhiscoverwasblown.Herbosshad
nottoldhermuchabouttheextractionotherthanthatJackhadbeencorneredinawarehousebytenof
Martino’s men, had fought his way out, and had been shot in the process. She’d learned one other
thing—bythetimeFBIbackuparrived,JackhadalreadymanagedtokilleightofMartino’smen.

He made quite an impression on her the first time he and his partner walked into her office.

Cameron suspected nearly everyone who met Jack Pallas had the same reaction: with predatory
browneyes,nearlyblackhair,anddarkfacialscruff,helookedlikethekindofguythatwomen—and
men—shouldavoidindarkalleys.Hehadacastonhisrightforearm,presumablyaninjuryinflicted
byMartino’smen,andheworeanavyT-shirtandjeansinsteadofthestandard-issuesuitandtiemost
agentswereexpectedtowear.Fromthelookofhim,shewasnotatallsurprisedtheFBIhadchosen
himforundercoverwork.

Andthreeyearslater—ashestoodacrossfromherinthathotelroomthatsuddenlyseemedfartoo

small,withhiseyesglitteringwithalow-simmeringanger,and,yes,evendespitethestandard-issue
suitandtieheworethistime—helookednotonebitlessdangerous.

“Iwanttotalktoalawyer,”Cameronsaid.

“You are a lawyer,” he said. “And you’re not considered a suspect, so you’re not entitled to one,

anyway.”

“WhatamIconsidered,then?”

“Apersonofinterest.”

This was bullshit. “Here’s the deal: I’m tired and not in the mood to play games. So if you don’t

starttellingmewhat’sgoingon,I’mwalking,”Cameronsaid.

JackeyedheryogasweatsandMichiganT-shirt,lookingunconcernedwithherthreats.ThankGod

shewasn’tstillhangingoutinherunderpants.

“You’renotgoinganywhere.”Hepulledthechairoutandgestured.“Takeaseat.”

“Thanks,butno.IthinkI’lljuststickwiththeplanwhereIwalkout.”Beforehecouldcallherbluff,

Camerongrabbedherpurseandheadedforthedoor.Thehellwithherstuff,she’dgetitlater.“Itwas
nice catching up with you, Agent Pallas. I’m glad to see those three years in Nebraska didn’t make
youanylessofanasshole.”

She threw open the door and nearly ran into a man standing in the doorway. He wore a well-cut

graysuitandtie,appearedyoungerthanJack,andwasAfricanAmerican.

He flashed Cameron a knock-out smile while precariously balancing three Starbucks cups in his

hands.“Thanksforgettingthedoor.What’dImiss?”

“I’mstormingout.AndIjustcalledAgentPallasanasshole.”

“Soundslikegoodtimes.Coffee?”HeheldtheStarbucksouttoher.“I’mAgentWilkins.”

Cameron threw a knowing glance over her shoulder. “Good cop, bad cop? Is that the best you’re

capableof,Jack?”

Hestalkedacrosstheroomandstoppedinthedoorway,toweringoverher.“Youhavenoideawhat

I’mcapableof,”hesaiddarkly.

AshereachedoverandtookoneofthecoffeecupsfromWilkins,Cameronmadeamentalnoteto

becareful when tauntinga man whocarried a gun, blamedher for nearlywrecking his career, and
whowasoveraheadtallerthanshewas.Sheinternallysaidafewprofanitiesforherearlierdecision
toputongymshoes;sheneededatleastthree-inchheelstofaceoffagainstJackPallas.Althoughthat
stillwouldhaveonlyputherathischinlevel.Nottomentionthatshewould’velookedlikeamajor
jackasswearingManolosandyogapants.

Wilkinsgesturedwiththecoffeecups.“Doyoutwoknoweachother?”

“Ms.LyndeandIalmosthadthepleasureofworkingonacasetogether,”Jacksaid.

“Almost? What does that mean?” Wilkins turned to Cameron with a look of realization. “Wait a

second—Cameron Lynde? I knew that name sounded familiar. Of course, from the U.S. attorney’s
office.”Hislightbrowneyeslitupashelaughed.“You’retheonethatJacksaidhad—”

“IthinkweallrecalljustfinewhatAgentPallassaid,”Cameroninterrupted.Threeyearsago,his

wordsinfamouslyhadbeenbroadcastalloverthenationalnewsfornearlyaweek.Shedidn’tneedto
hear them again, particularly not with him standing right beside her. The experience had been
embarrassingenoughthefirsttimearound.

Wilkinsnodded.“Sure,noproblem.”HelookedbetweenherandJack.“So...thisisawkward.”

Changingthesubject,Cameronpointedtothecoffee.“Isthatregularordecaf?”

“Regular.Iheardyouhadalongnight.”

She took one of the cups from him. She’d been up for twenty-three hours and adrenaline wasn’t

cuttingitanymore.Shetookasip,sighinggratefully.“Thankyou.”

Wilkinstookasipofhiscoffee.“See,that’sallweare,justthreepeoplehavingcoffeeandtalking.

Sowhatdoyousay—thinkyoumightwanttostayandchatwithusaboutwhathappenedlastnight?”

That almost got a smile out of Cameron. Wilkins, at least, appeared to be a pleasant, reasonable

man.Toobadhe’ddrawntheshortstickinhispartnerassignment.

“That’snothalf-bad,”shetoldhim.

Wilkinsgrinned.“Thecoffeeorthegood-coproutine?”

“Both. If you would like to ask me some questions, Agent Wilkins, I’d be happy to cooperate.”

Cameron brushed past Jack as she turned and headed back into the room. He and Wilkins followed
herasshetookaseatinfrontofthedesk.ShecrossedherlegsandfacedthetwoFBIagentshead-on.

“Allright.Let’stalk.”

IF IT HAD been anyone other than Cameron Lynde, Jack probably would’ve found her attitude
amusing.

But since it was Cameron Lynde, he wasn’t laughing. In fact, there wasn’t anything about the

situationthathefoundevenremotelyfunny.

HedecidedtoletWilkinstaketheleadinquestioningherabouttheeventsofthenightbefore.Not

becausesheveryclearlywantednothingtodowithhim—hecouldcarelessaboutCameronLynde’s
wishes—butratherbecause,notsurprisinggiventheirhistory,sherespondedbettertohispartnerthan
tohim.Theinvestigationwashisfocus,andhewasnotabouttoletpersonalissuesgetintheway.

WhenheandWilkinshadfirstarrivedatthePeninsulaandDetectiveSlonskytoldthemthenameof

thewitnessinroom1307,forasplitsecondJackhadthoughtthewholethingwasasetup,somesort
ofwelcome-backprankforhisreturntoChicago.Andhestillhadconsideredthisapossibilitywhen
theyenteredthecrimescene.Therewasnobody,afterall—Slonskysaidtheparamedicshadtakenthe
victimtoNorthwesternMemorialinanattempttoreviveher.

Thenhesawthevideotape.

Afterthat,itwasprettycleartoJackthatthecallhehadreceivedat5:00A.M.fromhisboss,asking

himtocheckoutCPD’sclaimsofwhattheythoughttheymighthavestumbledinto,wasindeednot
partofsomeelaboratejoke.AndhisfirstpriorityatthispointwastodeterminewhethertheFBIhad
jurisdictionoverthematter.

Cameron Lynde was the key to answering that question. If Jack believed her story, the FBI would

havenochoicebuttoconductitsowninvestigation.Forthatreason,asmuchashemight’vewanted
nothingmorethantopawnheroffontoWilkins,asthesenioragentonthesceneheknewthatwasn’t
anoption.

Fromhispostinthecorneroftheroom,Jackstudiedher.Notsurprisingly,shelookedexhausted.

Andforsomereason,sheseemedshorterthanheremembered.Probablybecauseallthetimeshe’d
seenherthreeyearsagohadbeenduringworkhoursandshe’dbeenwearingheels.

Yes,herememberedCameronLyndeandherhighheels...Infact,despitethefactthatithadbeen

threeyearssincehe’dlastseenher,Jackwassurprisedathowaccurate—anddetailed—hismemory
ofherhadbeen:thelongchestnuthair,thecrystallineblue-greeneyes,theattitudethathe’donce—
verybriefly—foundadmirable.

Thenagain,heshouldn’tbesurprisedhe’drememberedthosethings.Afterall,hewasanFBIagent

anditwashisjobtorememberdetails.

And,hesupposed,itdidn’thurtthatCameronLyndewas—somemenotherthanhimmightsay—

fuckinggorgeous.

Which,toJack,onlymadeitthatmuchmoreannoyingthatshealsohappenedtobeatotalbitch.

Thankfully,thelongchestnuthaircurrentlywaspulledbackintoaponytail,andtheblue-greeneyes

had dulled a little given her lack of sleep. The yoga pants and Michigan T-shirt she wore were
actuallykindofcute,butbecauseoftheaforementionedbitchfactor,heignoredthis.

“Sowhen they wokeme up thesecond time,” Cameron wassaying, “that’s whenI decided to call

GuestServices.”

“I want to step back for a moment.” Jack’s interruption from the corner of the room startled

Cameron;itwasthefirsttimehe’dspokensinceshe’dbegungivingherstatement.

“Tellmewhatyouheardrightbeforeyoufellasleep.Beforethenoisesnextdoorstartedupagain,”

hesaid.

Cameronhesitated.Heknewshedidn’twanttoanswerhisquestions—sheprobablydidn’twantto

say anything to him at all, in fact—but now that she’d started cooperating, she didn’t have much
choice.

“Iheardthedoorshut,asifsomeonewasleavingtheroom,”shesaid.

“Areyousureitwastheexteriordooryouheard?”Jackasked.

“Yes.”

“Butyoudidn’tchecktoseeifanyoneleftatthattime?”

Cameronshookherhead.“No.Thentheroomwentquietforawhile.Foraboutahalfhourorso.”

“Tellmeaboutthenoisesthatwokeyouup.”

Cameronturnedtofacehimnowthathehadtakenoverthequestioning.“Whatwouldyouliketo

know,AgentPallas?”sheaskedmock-politely.

“Ijusttoldyou.I’dliketoknowwhatyouheard.”

“PrettymuchthesamethingsIheardcomingfromtheroomthefirsttime,”shesaidwithanairof

defiance.

Jackcockedhishead.“Really?Yousaidthefirsttimearoundyouheardthepeoplenextdoorhaving

sex.”

“Yes,Ithinktheassslappingandthescreamsof‘I’mcoming’gavethataway.”

Jacksteppedoutfromthecornertoapproachher.“Sowhenyouwokeupthesecondtime,didyou

hearanyassesbeingslapped?”

“No.”

From her expression, he could tell she didn’t enjoy being on the receiving end of a cross-

examination.“Howaboutthe‘I’mcoming’screams?Anymoreofthose?”

“Iheardsquealing.”

“Butnoproclamationsofimpendingorgasms?”

Sheglared.“Youmadeyourpoint,AgentPallas.”

Hedrewcloserandstareddownather.“Mypoint,Ms.Lynde,isthatIknowyou’retired,butthat’s

noexcuseforgettingsloppy.”

Cameron’seyesfilledwithanger.Butthenshepausedforamoment,andnodded.“Fairenough.”

Shelookedoveratthewallshesharedwithroom1308.“WhenIwokeupthesecondtime,Iheard

the bed banging against the wall, louder than before. But only a couple of times. Then like I said, I
heardsquealing.”

“Amanorawoman’svoice?”Jackasked.

“Awoman. The soundwas muffled, asif her face wascovered by ablanket or pillow.” Cameron

turned back to him with a look of sudden realization. “She was suffocated, wasn’t she?” she asked
softly.

Jackdebatedwhethertoanswerthisbutknewheeventuallywouldhavetofillherinanyway.“Yes.”

Cameronbitherlip.“Ijustthoughttheyweretryingtobequieteraboutit.Ididn’trealize...”She

tookadeep,steadyingbreath.

“Youcouldn’thaveknown,”Wilkinsassuredher.

Jackthrewhimalook—enoughwiththegood-copalready.Shewasabiggirl,shecouldhandleit.

“YoutoldDetectiveSlonskythatyoucalledsecurityandtheroomwentquietagain?”

“AndthenIheardthedooropen,soIranandlookedoutthepeephole,”Cameronsaid.

“Justbeingnosy?”

Thesarcasmseemedtoreinvigorateher.“Andthankgoodnessforthat,”shesaid.“Otherwiseyou

wouldn’t have whatever information I know that I don’t yet realize I know.” She smiled ever so
sweetly. “Besides, if I hadn’t been so nosy, Agent Pallas, you and I never would’ve had this lovely
chancetoreconnect.”

Wilkinscoughedwhiletakingasipofhiscoffee.Itsoundedsuspiciouslylikeachuckle.

Jackfoundhersarcasmlaughable.BackwhenhewasinSpecialForces,beforehe’djoinedtheFBI,

he’dinterrogatedforeignoperatives,suspectedterrorists,andmembersofvariousguerillamilitias.
HecouldcertainlyhandleonecheekyassistantU.S.attorney.“I’mgladtoseethecoffee’sputalittle
firebackinyou,”hesaiddryly.“Nowwhydon’tyoutellmewhatyousawwhenyouweredoingyour
civicdutyandspyingthoughthepeephole?”

Wilkinshelduphishand.“Um,I’mthinkingmaybeIshouldpickbackupwiththis.”

CameronandJackansweredsimultaneously.“We’refine.”

“Isawamanleavetheroom,whichI’msureyouknow,”shetoldJack.

“Describehim.”

“IalreadydescribedhimtoSlonsky.”

“Doitagain.”

Jacksawhereyesflash.Shedidn’tlikebeingtoldwhattodo.Toobad.

“Fivefooteleven,maybesixfeettall,”shesaid.“Mediumbuild.Heworejeans,ablackblazer,anda

grayhoodedT-shirtpulledoverhishead.Hehadhisbacktometheentiretime,soIneversawhis
face.”

“Didn’tyouthinkthehoodedT-shirtwasalittleodd?”Jackasked.

“I heard butt cheeks being slapped and walls that were banged so hard my teeth nearly rattled.

Frankly,I’vefoundthiswholeeveningtobealittleodd,AgentPallas.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack could see Wilkins glance up at the ceiling while fighting off

anothersmile.

“Areyoucertainabouttheman’sheight?”Jackcontinued.

Cameronpaused,thinking.“Yes.”

“Howabouthisweight?”

Shesighed.“I’mreallybadatguessingthatkindofthing.”

“Makeaneffort.Pretendthisissomethingimportant.”

Anotherglare.

CameronglancedoveratWilkins.“Howmuchdoyouweigh?”

“Wait—howcomeJackdoesn’thavetoanswerthat?”

“ThemanIsawseemsclosertoyourbuild.”

“Oh,sohe’sasmallerguy,then?”Jacksuggestedhelpfully.

Wilkinsturnedaround.“Asmallerguy?I’maninchabovethenationalaverage.Besides,I’mspry.”

“Let’strytonarrowthisdown,”Jackregrouped.“Iweighone-eighty-five,AgentWilkinsisabout

one-sixty.Giventhat,wherewouldyousaythisguyfalls?”

Shelookedbetweenthetwomen,consideringthis.“Aboutone-seventy.”

JackandWilkinsexchangedlooks.

“What?”Cameronasked.“Whatdoesthattellyou?”

“So just to make sure we’re clear on this, the man you saw leave the room right before security

arrivedwasaboutfive-elevenorsixfeettall,andaroundonehundredandseventypounds.Isthatwhat
you’resaying?”

“That’swhatI’msaying,”sheagreed.“AndIseethatyou’vegottenwhateverinformationitisyou

wanted out of me. So I would like some information in return.” She looked to Wilkins first, who
lookedtoJack.

Afterdebatingamoment,heleanedagainstthewall.“Okay.Here’swhatIcantellyou.”

“ANDJUSTSOwe’reclear:everythingI’mabouttotellyouneedstobekeptconfidential,”Jacktold
her.“Infact,ifyouweren’twiththeU.S.attorney’soffice,Iwouldn’tbetellingyouanything.”

Camerongotthemessage:hedidn’twanttotellherjack-shit,buthisbosshadorderedhimtoshare

informationasaprofessionalcourtesy.

“Crystalclear,AgentPallas,”shesaid.

“You’veobviouslyputafewthingstogether,soI’llspeedthroughthepreliminaries,”Jackbegan.

“Youcalledhotelsecurity,theyfoundthedeadwomannextdoor,sotheycalledtheparamedicsand
the police. CPD arrived at the scene, saw there were signs of a struggle, and began their
investigation.”

“Whatsignsofastruggle?”Cameronasked.

“To save time, you should assume going forward that anything I don’t tell you is a deliberate

decisiononmypart.”

Cameron looked up at the ceiling, biting her tongue. Of all the murder and she-had-no-friggin’-

clue-what-else-but-something-that-apparently-involved-the-FBIcrimescenesinallthehotelsinallof
Chicago,JackPallashadtowalkintothisone.

“WhileCPDwasconductingtheirsweepoftheroom,theystumbledontosomethinghiddenbehind

thetelevisionacrossfromthebed.Avideocamera.”

“Do you have the murder on tape?” Cameron asked. If only all crimes came to prosecutors so

neatlywrappedup.

Jackshookhishead.“No.What’sonthetapeisthestuffthattookplacebeforethemurder.”

“Beforethemurder?”Cameronthoughtabouttheraucoussexnoisesshe’dheardthroughthewall.

“Thatmustbequiteatape.”

“Itis,”Jackagreed.“EspeciallysincethemanonthetapeisamarriedU.S.senator.”

Cameron’s eyes widened. She had not expected that. She asked the obvious next question. “Which

senator?”

Agent Wilkins pulled a photograph out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket and handed it to

Cameron.

Sheglancedatthephotograph,thenbackatJack.“ThisisSenatorHodges.”

“Soyourecognizehim?”

“OfcourseIrecognizehim,”Cameronsaid.BillHodgeshadrepresentedthestateofIllinoisinthe

U.S.Senateforovertwenty-fiveyears.Andlatelyshe’dseenhisfaceinthenewsmorethanusual—he
had just been appointed the chairman of the Senate Committee on Banking, Housing, and Urban
Affairs.

Cameron thought back to the redheaded woman she had seen on the paramedics’ gurney. “That

wasn’tthesenator ’swifeinroom1308,wasit?”

“No,itwasn’t,”Jacksaid.

“Whowasshe?”

“Let’sjustsaythatSenatorHodgeswaspayingtohavealotmorethanhishardwoodfloorsdone

lastnight.”

Nice.“Aprostitute?”

“Ithinkwomenatherlevelgenerallyprefertocallthemselves‘escorts.’”

“Howdoyouknowthisalready?”

“Wehavetheescortservice’srecords.Thesenatorhadbeenseeingherregularlyforalmostayear

now.”

Camerongotupandpacedbeforethebed,workingthescenariolikeanewcaseshe’dbeenhanded.

“Sowhat’swiththecamera?Don’ttellmethesenatorwasstupidenoughtothinkhecouldkeepasex
tapesecret.”Shestopped,thinkingquickly.“No...ofcourse.Blackmail.That’swhyCPDcalledyou
guys.”

“Having reviewed the tape, it’s obvious that Senator Hodges had no clue he was being filmed,”

Wilkinssaid.

“You’retheonewhogotstuckreviewingthetape?Luckyyou,”Cameronsaid.

“Notexactly.ButJackwasbusyplayingbad-copwithSenatorHodges.”

“AndhereIthoughtthatwasspecialforme.”

Wilkins grinned. “Nah—he likes to break that out with everybody. It usually works, too, with that

wholedarkandgloweringthinghe’sgotgoingon.”

Cameron peeked at Jack, who was back at his post in the corner of the room. “Glowering”—she

liked that description. It was certainly more insightful than the generic “asshole” she’d been going
withforthepastthreeyears.

ShewonderedifJackPallaseversmiled.

Thensherememberedthatshefranklydidn’tgiveadamnwhetherhedidornot.

“Given the content of the tape, Senator Hodges would normally be CPD’s primary suspect,” Jack

saidtoher.“Infact,thepoliceprobablywould’vearrestedhimalready,ifitwasn’tforyou.”

“Isthatso?”

Jackpushedawayfromthewallandstormedover.HeyankedthephotooutofCameron’shandsand

helditinfrontofherface.

“Let’s cut through the crap. The guy you saw leave the room five minutes before hotel security

foundthegirldead—isthereanypossibilityit’sthisman?”

Cameronhesitated,momentarilycaughtoffguardbythesuddennesswithwhichJackhadgoneinto

attackmode.

Heshovedthephotoevencloser.“Comeon,Cameron—isthereanypossibilityitwasthisman?”

Cameronfeltanoddflipinherstomach,hearingJacksayherfirstname.They’donce,verybriefly,

beenonafirst-namebasisbefore.Shebrushedthisoffandfocusedonthephotoheheldbeforeher.
Really, she didn’t even need to look. Senator Hodges was not only a shorter man, but if she had to
guess—and apparently she did—she’d say he weighed at least two hundred and fifty pounds. She
mightnothavegottenthebestlookthroughherpeephole,butsheknewenoughtoknowonething.

“It’snothim,”shesaid.

“You’resure?”Jackasked.

“I’msure.”

Jacksteppedawayfromher.“ThenSenatorHodgesowesyouonehellofathankyou.Becauseyour

wordistheonlythingkeepinghimfrombeingarrestedformurder.”

Asilencefellovertheroom.“Doesn’thehavesomesortofalibi?”Cameronasked.

Jackremainedsilent.ThatclearlyfellintotheI’m-not-answering-no-stinking-questionscategory.

“I’lltakethatasano,”Cameronsaid.“Howaboutifinsteadofquestions,IjustseeifIcanfillinthe

blanks? So this escort who’s been sleeping with Senator Hodges, the married senior senator from
Illinois—”

“WhojusthappenedtobeappointedthechairmanoftheSenateBankingCommittee,”Wilkinsthrew

in. When he caught the look of death Jack shot him, he shrugged. “What? I don’t have your issues
withher.Besides,IheardwhatDavissaid—we’resupposedtoshare,remember?”

Muchgloweringensued.

“Sothisescortdecidestogetthesenatorontapeanduseitasblackmail,”Cameroncontinued.“He

meetshertonight,theydothedeed—manytimes—I’mstillgoingwiththeViagratheoryonthat,by
theway—andthesenatorleaves.Twentyminuteslater,ourmysterymanshowsup.There’sastruggle,
andhekillsthewoman.Andsincethere’snosignofforcedentry,wecanassumethegirlknewthe
murdererandlethimintotheroom.HowamIdoingsofar?”

Wilkinsnodded,impressed.“Notbad.”

“What I think,” Jack told her, “is that you’ve had a long night, and we don’t want to take up any

more of your time. The FBI appreciates your cooperation, Ms. Lynde. We’ll be in touch if there’s
anythingfurtherweneed.”

Cameron watched as he turned and headed toward the door, apparently with the mistaken

impressionthattherewasnothingleftforthemtodiscuss.

“Actually,Idohaveanotherquestion,AgentPallas,”shesaid.

Helookedbackather.“Whatmightthatbe?”

“CanIfinallygetoutofthishotelroom?”

Four

WHEN AGENT WILKINS suggested that he and Jack drive her home from the hotel, Cameron
reluctantly accepted. As much as she was eager to put some distance between herself and Jack, she
didn’twanthimtothinkthathisattitudewasgettingtoher.

SittinginthebackofWilkins’scar—atleastsheassumeditwasWilkins’scarsincehewastheone

drivingandshecouldn’tpictureJackowningaLexus—sherestedherheadagainstthecoolleather
seatandlookedoutthewindow.She’dbeenstuckinthathotelroomforsolongthatthebrightnessof

thedaylighthadbeenjarringandsurrealwhenshe’dfirststeppedoutside.Itwasnearlynoon,which
meantshenowwasgoingonalmostthirtyhourswithoutsleep.ShedoubtedevenStarbuckshadafix
forthat.

Fightingthelullingmotionofthecar,sheturnedawayfromthewindow.Withherheadagainstthe

backseat,sheobservedthemansittinginfrontofherthroughhalf-liddedeyes.

JackPallas.

Shemighthavelaughedattheironyofthesituation,ifshewasn’tsodamnedtired.Andalso,asa

generalrule,shefounditprudenttorefrainfromstrangelylaughingtooneselfwhilesittinginacar
withtwoFBIagents—oneofwhomalreadydistrustedherwithanintensitythatwaspalpable.

NotthatCameronwassurprisedJackstillfeltthatway.Sherecalledalltoowellthelookonhisface

whenshe’dtoldhimtheyweren’tgoingtofilechargesintheMartinocase.

Ithadbeenthreeyearsago,lateonaFridayafternoon.Earlierintheday,shehadbeencalledintoa

meetingwithherboss,SilasBriggs,theU.S.attorneyfortheNorthernDistrictofIllinois.He’dtold
her that he wanted to talk about the Martino case, and she assumed they were going to discuss the
charges she planned to pursue against the various members of Martino’s organization. What Silas
toldherinsteadcameasashock.

“I’vedecidedagainstfilingcharges,”hedeclared.Hesaiditassoonasshesatdown,asifwanting

togetthroughtheconversationquickly.

“Against Martino’s men, or Martino himself?” Cameron asked, assuming at first that Silas meant

he’d made an immunity deal with somebody—or several somebodies—in exchange for their
testimony.

“Againsteverybody,”Silassaidmatter-of-factly.

Cameron sat back in her chair, needing a moment to process this. “You don’t want to file any

charges?”

“Irealizethatyou’resurprisedbythis.”

Thatwastheunderstatementoftheyear.“TheFBIhasbeenworkingonthiscaseforovertwoyears.

With all the information Agent Pallas gathered while undercover, we have enough evidence to put
Martinoawayfortherestofhislife.Whywouldn’tweprosecute?”

“You’reyoungandeager,Cameron,andIlikethataboutyou.It’soneofthereasonsIsnatchedyou

away from Hatcher and Thorn,” Silas said, referring to the law firm she had worked at prior to
comingtotheU.S.attorney’soffice.

Cameronheldupherhand.True,shewasnewtothejob,andshedefinitelywaseager,butshe’dhad

fouryearsoftrialexperienceasacivillitigatorbeforebecomingaprosecutor.Nevertheless,ifSilas
didn’tthinkshewasready,shewouldn’tletpridegetintheway.“Holdon,Silas.Ifthisisbecauseyou
don’tthinkIhaveenoughexperiencetotrythiscase,thenjustgiveittosomebodyelse.Sure,I’llbea
little testy, I’ll probably mope dramatically around the office for a day or two, but I’ll get over it.
Hell,I’llevenhelpwhoeveryoureassigntothecasegetupandru—”

Silas cut her off. “No one in this office is going to file charges. Period. I’ve been around long

enoughtoknowthatatriallikethiswillquicklyescalateintotwothings:amediacircus,andablack
fucking hole for the United States government. You think you have enough evidence now, but just

wait: after we openly declare war on Martino, you’ll have witnesses flipping on you—or worse,
mysteriouslydisappearingordying—andbeforeyouknowit,you’llbetwoweeksintotrialwithouta
shredofhardevidencetobackupallthepromisesyoumadetothejuryinyouropeningstatement.”

Cameron knew that she probably should’ve just backed off at that point. But she couldn’t help

herself.“ButAgentPallas’stestimonyalonewillbeenoughevidenceto—”

“Agent Pallas saw a lot of things, but unfortunately his cover was blown too early,” Silas

interruptedher.“AndwhileIcertainlyappreciatethetwoyearshespentinvestigatingthiscase,ifwe
goforwardwithpressingchargesandwedon’tgetaconviction,thefalloutwillbeonus—notAgent
PallasoranyoneelseattheFBI.I’mnotwillingtohavemyofficetakethatrisk.”

Now Cameron did fall quiet. Roberto Martino and his minions were responsible for nearly one-

third of all drug trafficking in the city of Chicago; they laundered their money through more than
twentyshamcorporations;andtheyextorted,bribed,andthreatenedanyonewhogotintheirway.Not
tomention,theykilledpeople.

GoingaftercriminalslikeRobertoMartinowasthereasonshehadjoinedtheU.S.attorney’soffice

in the first place. In the dark time surrounding her father ’s murder, that decision had been the one
thing—inadditiontoCollinandAmy’ssupport—thathadkeptherdrivenandfocused.

Generally,shehadlikedworkingatheroldfirm.Withherfatherhavingbeenapoliceofficer,and

her mother having worked as a court reporter until she divorced Cameron’s father and married a
pilotshe’dmetduringadepositionshewastranscribing(inhisdivorcecase,noless),herfamilyhad
gotten by reasonably well. But they certainly hadn’t been wealthy. Because of that, Cameron had
appreciatedtheindependenceandsecuritythathadcomewiththe$250,000salaryshe’dbeenearning
byherfourthyearinprivatepractice.

Herfatherhadbeenproudofhersuccess.AsCameronhadlearnedagainandagainfromthepolice

officers who offered their condolences at her father ’s wake and funeral, he’d apparently bragged
incessantlytohispartnerandothercopfriendsaboutherachievements.

She’d remained close to her father and his side of the family after her parents’ divorce—

particularly after her mother moved to Florida with her new husband, who retired from the airline
shortlyafterCameronenteredlawschool.

Hisdeathhadhitherhard.

OnelateafternoonduringCameron’sfourthyearatthefirm,thecaptaininchargeofherfather ’s

shift called her at work with the grave words anyone with a family member in law enforcement
dreadshearing:thatsheneededtocometothehospitalrightaway.Bythetimeshe’dburstfrantically
throughthedoorsoftheemergencyroom,ithadbeentoolate.She’dstoodnumblyinaprivateroom
asthecaptaintoldherthatherfatherhadbeenshottodeathbyadrugdealerwhilerespondingtowhat
theyhadbelievedtobemerelyaroutinedomesticdisturbancecall.

Thosefirstcoupleofweeksafterherfather ’smurder,she’dfelt...graywasthewordshe’dusedto

describeitwhenCollinhadaskedhowshewasholdingup.Butthenshe’dpulledherselftogetherand
wentbacktothefirm.Inmanysenses,knowinghowproudherfatherhadbeenofherhardworkhad
madeiteasiertodothat—sheknewhewouldwanthertocarryon,tokeepgoingwithhercareeras
farasshecould.Butsomethinghadbeenmissing.

Fourweeksafterthefuneral,shewasincourtwhenshefiguredoutwhatthatsomethingwas.She’d

been waiting to argue an evidentiary motion that once would’ve seemed particularly important, but
after her father ’s death had felt dismayingly insignificant. Then the court reporter called the case
beforehers.

United States versus Markovitz. A simple felon-in-possession of a firearm case. It had been a

straightforward court appearance, nothing flashy, a motion to suppress evidence filed by the
defendant. Procedurally the motion was very similar to the one Cameron herself was scheduled to
argue that day, so she’d paid attention, wanting to gauge the judge’s mood. After a brief oral
argument,thejudgeruledinfavorofthegovernment,andCameronsawthelookofsatisfactionin
theassistantU.S.attorney’seyes.

Sinceherfatherhadbeenkilled,shehadn’toncefeltthatsamekindofsatisfaction.

But that morning, as she watched the defendant being escorted out of the courtroom wearing his

handcuffsandorangejumpsuit,shefeltasthoughsomethinghadbeenaccomplished,nomatterhow
small the degree. Justice had been served. The man who had shot and killed her father had been a
felon,too.Maybeifmorehadbeendone,maybeifthatgunhadn’tbeenonthestreets,maybeifhe
hadn’tbeenonthestreets...

Shecoulddosomethingaboutthat,she’drealized.

Thatveryweek,sheappliedforanassistantU.S.attorneyposition.

OneaspectofbeingaprosecutorCameronhadn’tanticipated,however,wasthepoliticsthatoften

cameintoplaywithgovernmentjobs.WhilesittingacrossfromSilasthatday,discussinghisreasons
forpullingoutoftheMartinocase,sherealizedthattheU.S.attorney’sofficewasnoexception.She
couldguessSilas’srealproblem:simplyput,hedidn’twanttostickhisneckoutandpotentiallylosea
trialthatwouldbecoveredbyeverynationalnewspaper,television,andradiostation.

Shewassurprisedbyhisdecision.Andfrustrated.Anddisgustedbythethoughtthatsomeonelike

Roberto Martino would be allowed to go on, unchecked, with business as usual. But unfortunately,
unlesssheplannedtohandoverherassistantU.S.attorneybadgerightthenandthere,herhandswere
tied.She’dbeenwiththeofficeforonlyayear—openlychallengingherbossonsuchanissuewould
notbethesmartestmoveifshewantedtoremainanemployedcrime-fighter.Soshekeptherthoughts
toherself.

“Okay.Nocharges.”Shegotapitinherstomach,sayingthewordsoutloud.

“I’mgladyouunderstand,”Silassaidwithanodofapproval.“Andthere’sonelastthing:Ihaven’t

hadthechancetospeaktoanyoneattheBureauaboutthis.SomebodyneedstotellAgentPallasand
theothersthatwe’repullingoutoftheMartinocase.Ithought,sinceyouseemtohaveagoodrapport
withhim,thatitshouldbeyou.”

NowthatwasaconversationCameronwantednopartof.“Ithinkitmightbemoreappropriateif

AgentPallasheardthisdirectlyfromyou,Silas.Especiallygiveneverythinghewentthroughinthis
investigation.”

“HewasdoinghisjobasanFBIagent.That’showthesethingsturnoutsometimes.”

Sensing from his tone that the matter was no longer open for discussion, Cameron nodded. She

wasn’tsureshetrustedherselftospeakatthatmoment,anyway.

Silasheldhereyes.“Andjustsowe’reonthesamepage,theonlythingtheFBIneedstoknowis

thattherearen’tgoingtobeanychargesbroughtagainstMartinoandhismen.Thisofficehasastrict
policythatwedonotcommentonourinternaldecision-makingprocess.”

When Cameron still said nothing, Silas cocked his head. “I need you to be a team-player on this,

Cameron.Isthatunderstood?”

Oh,sheunderstoodallright.Silaswassellingherout—lettinghertakethefallforhisdecisionto

back off of Martino. But that was how the game was played. He was her boss, not to mention an
extremelyimportantandwell-connectedmemberoftheChicagolegalcommunity.Whichmeantthere
wasonlyonethingshecouldsay.

“Consideritdone.”

JACKWATCHEDASWilkinscheckedhisrearviewmirror.Thepassengerinthebackseathadbeen
silentforawhile.

“Issheasleep?”heasked.

Wilkinsnodded.“Beenalongnight.”

“True.Let’spickupanotherroundofcoffeebeforeheadingback.Thestufftheyhaveintheoffice

tasteslikeshit.”

“Imeantthatit’sbeenalongnightforher.”

JackknewexactlywhatWilkinshadmeant.Buthewastryingtoavoidthinkingaboutherasmuchas

possible.

“Kindofstrange,thetwoofyoumeetingagainunderthesecircumstances.”

Wilkinsapparentlyhadnotreceivedhislet’s-just-drop-the-issuememo.

Jackglancedinhismirrortodouble-checkthatCameronwassleeping.“Itwould’vebeenstrange

nomatterwhatcircumstanceswe’dmetunder,”hesaid,keepinghisvoicelow.

Wilkinslookedawayfromtheroad.“Youhaveanyregrets?”

“AboutwhatIsaid?”

“Yeah.”

“Onlythattheyhadacamerathere.”

Wilkinsshookhishead.“Remindmetonevergetonyourbadside.”

“Don’tevergetonmybadside.”

“Thanks.”

JacklikedworkingwithWilkins.He’dhesitatedatfirstwhenhisbosshaddecidedtopartnerhim

with a guy who’d just graduated from the Academy. He’d hesitated even more when he’d gotten a
lookattheexpensivesuitWilkinshadbeenwearingthefirstdaytheymet.Butunderneaththegrins
andjokes,WilkinswasalotsavvierthanJackhadfirstgivenhimcreditfor,andherespectedthat—
evenifthetwoofthemcouldn’thavebeenmoredifferentintheirapproachtomostthings.Besides
that,Jackwelcomedhavingapartnerwhoactuallytalkedforachange,consideringhislastpartnerin

Nebraska had spoken an average of about six-point-three words a day and had the personality of a
doorknob. Stakeouts with the guy had been a real hoot. Not that stakeouts in Nebraska were all that
interestingtostartwith.He’dbeenboredoutofhismindthelastthreeyears—which,ofcourse,had
beenthewholepointofthedisciplinaryactiontheDepartmentofJusticehadtakenagainsthim.

JackglancedagaininhismirrortocheckoutCameronsleepinginthebackseat.

He wasn’t being entirely truthful, telling Wilkins that he had no regrets about what had happened

threeyearsago.Ofcoursehedid—whathesaidhadbeenuncalledfor.Heknewthatallofabouttwo
secondsafterthewordshadflownoutofhismouth.

Whenhe’dfoundoutthathewasbeingtransferredbacktoChicago,he’dvowedtoputeverything

behindhim.Unfortunately,hehadn’tcountedonrunningintoCameronLyndewithinhisfirstweekof
beingback.Beingaroundherbroughtbackalotofoldmemories.

For starters, he still couldn’t forget the way she had refused to look at him the day she told him

abouttheMartinocase.

LatethatFridayafternoon,threeyearsago,Cameronhadcalledtosayshewascomingtohisoffice

tospeakwithhimandhispartneratthetime,JoeDobbs.Whenhehadheardtheknockandseenher
standinginhisdoorway,he’dsmiled.Jackdistinctlyrememberedthat,probablybecauseofhowrare
itwasthathesmiledbackinthosedays—therehadn’tbeenalottobechipperaboutduringthetwo
yearshe’dworkedforMartino.Hewasstill,toputitbluntly,prettyfucked-upfrombeingundercover
forsolongandhavingtroublegettingbackintotheroutineofnormallife.Healsowasn’tsleepingat
night,andthatcertainlydidn’thelpmatters.

Butasmuchashehadbeenfindingitdifficulttotransitionbacktoanofficejob,therewasonepart

ofithedidn’tmind:workingwithCameronLynde.He’dbeguntoworry,infact,thathewasstarting
tonotminditalittletoomuch.They’donlyevertalkedbusiness—theMartinocase—yetthecouple
oftimesthey’dbeenalonetogether,hefeltsomesortofundercurrentbetweenthem.Hedidn’tknow
howtodescribeit,excepttosaythatwhatevertheundercurrentwas,itwasenoughtomakehimwish
hewasn’tstillsoscrewedup.

“Comeonin,”Jackhadtoldher.

WhenCameronsteppedintohisofficethatFridayafternoon,foronceshedidn’treturnhissmile.

“WillAgentDobbsbejoiningus?”sheasked.

“He’sonhisway.Whydon’tyouhaveaseatwhileyouwait?”Jackgesturedtothechairsinfrontof

hisdesk.

Cameronshookherhead.“I’mfine,thanks.”

Overthecourseofthelastmonth,Jackhadgottentoknowherwellenoughtoknowthatshewas

not fine right then. Something was wrong—she had skipped over the tough-as-nails-but-not-really
sarcastic/semi-flirtatious pleasantries he had come to expect and enjoy as part of their usual
discourse.Nottomention,sheseemedskittish.

Hehadabadfeelingaboutthis.

“YousaidyouwantedtotalkaboutMartino—isthereaproblemwiththecase?”Hewatchedasshe

hesitated.

Bingo.

Cameron’seyes shifted tothe door. “Ithink we should waituntil Agent Dobbsgets here.” She bit

herbottomlipworriedly,andJackcouldn’tdecidewhatwasmoretroubling—hersuddendisplayof
vulnerabilityorthefactthathenowcouldn’ttakehiseyesoffherlips.

Hegotupfromhisdesk,walkedover,andshuthisofficedoor.Hestoodbeforeher.“Something’s

gotyouupset.”

“AgentPallas,Ithink—”

Hecutheroff.“It’sJack,okay?Ithinkit’sprobablytimeforustobeonafirst-namebasis.”When

hergazedartedagaintohisofficedoor,hedidsomethingthatsurprisedthemboth—hereachedout
andtouchedherchingently.

Heturnedherfacetohis.“Talktome,Cameron.Tellmewhat’swrong.”

Whenherincredibleaquamarineeyesmethis,hefeltit—somethingakintothejoltsofelectricity

Martino’smenhadhithimwithduringhistwodaysofcaptivity.Onlyinfinitelymoreenjoyable.

“Jack,”shewhispered.“I’msosor—”

Aknockatthedoorinterruptedthem.

Jack and Cameron sprang away from each other as the door to his office opened. Joe walked in,

surprisedtofindthembothstandingthere.

“Oh,hey—sorryI’mlate.”HetookaseatinoneofthechairsinfrontofJack’sdesk—theyhadbeen

partnersforfouryearsandwerecomfortableineachother ’soffices.Hecrossedhislegandlooked
upatCameron.“JacksaidyouwantedtotalktousaboutMartino?”

“Ido,”Cameronsaid.Shesoundedstiffandnervousagain,andoddlyfocusedherattentiononJoe.

“I wanted to let you know that we’ve made a decision. We won’t be filing charges against Roberto
Martino.Oranyoneelseinhisorganization,forthatmatter.”

Therewasasilenceintheroom.

Jackbrokeit.“Youcan’tbeserious.”

Cameronstilldidn’tlookathim.“Irealizethisisn’ttheresulteitherofyouexpected.”

“What do you mean, you’re not going to file any charges?” Joe asked. He had been the liaison

between Jack and the Bureau during the two years Jack had been undercover and knew all the dirt
they’dduguponMartino.

“Ourofficehasdecidedthereisn’tenoughevidencetotakethecasetotrial,”Cameronsaid.

Jackwasstruggling—hard—tokeephisangerincheck.“Bullshit.Whomadethisdecision?Wasit

Briggs?”

Joestoodupfromhischairandpaced.“Thatfuckingguy.Allhecaresaboutishisownreputation,”

hesaiddisgustedly.

“Iwanttotalktohim,”Jackdemanded.

Cameronfinallyturnedtofacehim.“There’snoneedforthat.This...ismycase.Itwasmycall.”

“Screwthat—Idon’tbelieveyou.”

Joeglancedover,acautionarynoteinhisvoice.“Jack.”

Cameronremainedcool.“Irealizehowfrustratingthis—”

Jacktookasteptowardher.“Frustrating?Frustrationdoesn’tbegintocoverwhatI’mfeelingright

now.You’vereadthefiles—atleastIassumedyouhaduntilaboutaminuteago—nowI’mnotsosure
whatyouoranyoneelseintheU.S.attorney’sofficehasbeendoing.YouknowwhoMartinoisand
thethingshe’sdone.Whatthehellareyouguysthinking?”

“I’msorry,”shesaidwoodenly.“Iknowhowmuchyouputintothisinvestigation.Unfortunately,

there’snothingmoreIcantellyou.”

“Surethereis.YoucantellmewhothehellMartinopaidoffintheU.S.attorney’sofficetomake

this miracle happen. If Briggs didn’t make this decision, then . . .” Jack paused to give Cameron a
scrutinizing once-over. “What do you think, Joe, should we do a little digging into Ms. Lynde’s
accounts?Seeifshe’shadanyunusuallylargedepositslately?”

Cameron walked over and stared him dead in the eyes. “You are way out of line with that, Agent

Pallas.”

Joe moved between them. “Okay, I think we all need to take a step back for a moment and cool

down.”

Jackignoredhim.“Iwantanexplanation,”hesaidagaintoCameron.

Shestoodherground,holdinghisgazeangrily.“Fine.Youblewyourcovertooearly.Ihopethat

explanationsatisfiesyou,becauseit’stheonlyoneIcangiveyou.”

A wave of fury washed over him. And guilt. Her words struck a nerve—although he’d had no

choice,hestillblamedhimselfeverydayforthefactthathiscoverhadbeenblown.

Jack’svoicewasice-cold.“Getoutofmyoffice.”

“Iwasjustleaving,”Cameronsaid.“Butonelastthing—ifyoueverhaveanyconcernsaboutwhere

myloyaltieslie,orregardingmydedicationtomyjob,youcanjustaskmeyourself,AgentPallas.
But if you poke around in my bank accounts, you better have either a court order or one hell of a
defenseattorney.”ShenoddedatJoeingood-bye.“AgentDobbs.”Thensheturnedandleftwithout
furtherword.

Joewatchedhergo.“Iknowyou’reangry,Jack,andI’mmadashell,too,butbecareful.Cameron

Lyndemightbenewtotheoffice,butshe’sstillanassistantU.S.attorney.Probablynotsuchagood
ideatoaccuseherofcorruption.”

Barelylistening,Jacksaidnothing.Allhecouldthinkaboutwasonething.

Twoyearsofhislifedownthefuckingdrain.

Joesprangintoaction.“Allright—I’mgoingtotalktoDavis,”hesaid,referringtotheirboss,the

specialagentincharge.“I’llseeifIcanfindoutwhat’sreallygoingon.”Hewalkedoverandputhis
handonJack’sshoulder.“Inthemeantime,youneedtocalmthehelldown.Gohome,gogetdrunk,
whatever—justgetoutofthisofficebeforeyousayanythingelseyou’llregret.”

Jacknodded.

Twoyears.

Intheelevatoronhiswayout,hestarednumblyatthedoors,wonderingifCameronLyndehadany

cluewhathe’dgonethroughtogetallthatevidencethatshehadjustrenderedmeaningless.Yes,his
cover had been blown, but only because—in a move that was two parts plain stupid and one part a
piss-fight over jurisdiction—the DEA had sent in their own undercover agent to make contact with
Martino.Jackhadfiguredoutwhotheguywasinallofaboutfiveseconds.IttookMartinoten.

He’dorderedJacktokillhim.

Now Jack had done a lot of not-so-nice things in order to maintain his cover while working for

Martino, but up to that point he’d always managed to avoid actually killing anyone. But this time
Martinowantedtheagent’sbodybroughtbacktohim—heplannedtosendamessagetotheDEA—
andnoamountofcraftinesscouldgetJackoutofhavingtoproduceanactualcorpse.Sohestalled.
HewasonhiswaytomeettheDEAagent,warnhim,andgetthemboththehelloutofDodge,when
Martino’smengrabbedthem.

TheykilledtheDEAagentimmediately.Martinostucktohisplanandhadhismendumpthebody

ontheChicagoDEAoffice’sdoorstepthatnight.

WithJack,hewaslessforgiving.

Enoughsaid.

OntheseconddayofJack’scaptivity,however,Martino’smenmadeafatalmistake.

Actually, it was one man in particular who made the mistake: Vincent, one of Martino’s

interrogators, wanted to take his questioning up a notch and decided to untie Jack’s hands. Sure, he
immediately re-disabled one of those hands by ramming a nine-inch carving knife all the way
throughJack’sforearm,pinningittothechair.Buthemomentarilylefthisotherhandfree.

Forsuchstupidity,Martinosurelywould’vekilledVincenthimself.Thatis,ifJackhadn’tchoked

theguywithhisfreehand,slidtheknifebackoutofhisforearm,andbeatenhimtoit.

LuckilyforJack,Vincenthadbeencarryingagunalongwithhisknife.AlsoluckyforJackwasthe

factthathehadbeentrainedinSpecialForcestoskillfullyhandleagunwitheitherhand.

These things, however, were not as fortuitous for Martino’s men. True, one of them was lucky

enough to shoot Jack in the middle of the gunfight that ensued, but he certainly didn’t live long
enoughtobragaboutit.

Butunlikehismen,Martinohimselfseemedtohavealltheluckintheworld.Notonlywashenot

amongtheeightdeadbodiesFBIbackupcollectedwhentheyfinallyshowedupatthewarehouse,but
apparently, Lady Luck was smiling down on him a second time when she steered his case into the
inexperiencedhandsofAssistantU.S.AttorneyCameronLynde.

Twoyearsofhislifedownthedrain.

Jackdidn’twanttobelieveit.Butshesaidthatthedecisionnottoprosecutewashers.Andifthatwas

true,then...thehellwithher.

Theelevatorhitthegroundfloorandthedoorssprangopen.Jacksteppedoutandwasimmediately

accostedbyathrongofreporters.Unfortunately,thiswasnotanunusualoccurrence;heunwittingly
hadbecomethefocusofmediaattentionaftertheshoot-outatthewarehouse—eightdeadgangsters

tended to pique people’s interests—and ever since, reporters had come calling whenever Martino’s
namepoppedupinthenews.

“AgentPallas!AgentPallas!”Thereportersshoutedovereachother,tryingtogettohim.

Jack ignored them and headed toward the front door. The female reporter from the local NBC

affiliate,whoseinterestinhimlatelyseemedtogobeyondamereprofessionallevel,fellintostride
alongsidehimwithhercameramanintow.

“Agent Pallas—we just got word about the Martino case. As the FBI agent in charge of the

investigation,whatdoyouthinkaboutthefactthatRobertoMartinowillcontinuetowalkthestreets
ofChicagoasafreeman?”SheshovedhermicrophoneinJack’sface.

Maybeitwasduetoextremesleep-deprivation.Ormaybeitwasbecauseofthefactthat(according

to the psychologist he had been ordered to see every week) he had some lingering “rage” issues
relatedtohisundercoverworkandcapture.Ormaybe,possibly,ithadsomethingtodowiththefact
thathe’dbeentorturedfortwodaysbytheguy.Butbeforeherealizedwhathewasdoing,Jackfired
backareplytothereporter ’squestion.

“I think the assistant U.S. attorney has her head up her ass, that’s what I think. They should’ve

assignedthecasetosomebodywithsomefuckingballs.”

EverytelevisionstationinChicagoledofftheirsixo’clockeveningnewswithhistirade.

Andthentheyre-aireditagain,ontheteno’clocknews.Ofcoursebythatpoint,wordhadspreadto

the national correspondents that a Chicago FBI special agent had verbally bitch-slapped an assistant
U.S. attorney on live camera, and then his comments were everywhere: CNN, MSNBC, the Today
show,Nightline,LarryKingLive,andeverythinginbetween.Nottomentionthatthefootageearned
thedubiousdistinctionofbeingthemostdownloadedvideoonYouTubefortheentireweek.

Needlesstosay,Jack’sbosswasnotpleased.

“Areyououtofyourfuckingmind?”DavisdemandedtoknowwhenhehauledJackintohisoffice

the following morning. “You’re the one with your head up your goddamn ass, Pallas, making a
commentlikethatonnationaltelevision!”

Things pretty much went downhill from there. Some feminist group began making noise in the

media,claimingthatJack’scommentaboutassigningthecasetosomebodywith“balls”was—taken
literally—asexiststatementthatonlyamaleprosecutorcould’vehandledsuchatoughcase.

WhichiswhentheDepartmentofJusticesteppedin.

Despite his initial outburst over the situation, Davis worked for two days to appease the DOJ. He

emphasized that Jack was Chicago’s most talented and dedicated agent and suggested, in terms of a
disciplinaryaction,thatJackissueaformalapologytoMs.LyndeandtheU.S.attorney’sofficeand
be put on six months’ probation. The lawyers at the DOJ said they would take Davis’s
recommendationunderadvisement.

ThatMondaymorning,Jackgotintotheofficeearlytostartworkingonhisapology.Heknewhe’d

been out of line, both with the comments he’d made to the reporter and the things he’d said to
Cameronbeforethat.Admittedly,he’dhandledthesituationpoorly.Verypoorly.Ontopoftheshock
andfrustrationhe’dfeltwhenhearinghernews,thefactthathe’dcometotrustherhadonlyincreased
hisanger.Butatthispoint,hehopedthattheycouldsomehowfigureoutawaytogetpastthesituation

andmoveon.

He had left the door to his office open while he worked, and after a few minutes of staring at a

blankcomputerscreen—apologiesdidn’texactlycomeeasytohim—hewassurprisedtohearvoices
comingfromDavis’soffice.He’dthoughthewastheonlypersoninthatearly.

Davissoundedangry.Fromacrossthehall,Jackcouldn’tpickupmuchoftheconversation,other

thantohearhisbosssaythewords“bullshit”and“overreacting.”SinceJackdidn’thearanyoneelse
speak, he wondered if Davis was on the phone. But regardless of whomever Davis was talking to,
Jackhadaprettygoodideawhohewastalkingabout.Hegotupfromhisdeskandheadedtohisdoor
when—

Davis’sofficedoorflewopenandCameronLyndesteppedout.

CatchingsightofJack,shestoppedinhertracks.Alookcrossedherface,onethatJackknewwell.

Overtheyears,he’dseenthatexpressionmanytimeswhensomeonesawhimapproaching.

Caught.

Cameroncoveredthelookquickly,andcoollymethisgazeacrossthehallway.Sheturnedandleft,

sayingnothing.

WhenDavissteppedoutofhisofficenext,healsosawJack.Heshookhisheadsomberly.

That afternoon, the Department of Justice issued an order that Special Agent Jack Pallas be

transferredoutofChicagoimmediately.

Jackhadafeelingheknewjustwhohecouldthankforthat.

“WHATEVERYOU’RETHINKINGabout,you’dprobablybebetteroffleavingitinthepast.”

JackglancedoverandsawWilkinsstaringathim.“Iwasn’tthinkingaboutanything.”

“Really?’Causethecarstoppedthreeminutesagoandwe’vejustbeensittinghereinfrontofthis

house.”

Jack looked around to get his bearings—shit, they were just sitting there. Nice to see his

exceptionallyfine-tunedspecialagentpowersofobservationwereintact.Heblamedtheirwitnessin
thebackseatforthis.Shedistractedhim.Itwastimetoputanendtothat.

Hecalledoverhisshoulder.“You’refreetogo,Ms.Lynde.”

Noresponse.

Heturnedaround.

“She’soutlikealight,”Wilkinstoldhim.

“Sodosomethingaboutit.”

Wilkinspeeredintotherearviewmirror.“Yoo-hoo,Cameron—”

“Yoo-hoo?That’sreallyFBI-ish.”

“Hey,I’mthegoodcop.Imakeitwork.”Wilkinsturnedbacktothetaskathand.“Cameron—we’re

here.”HeglancedoveratJack,whispering.“Doyouthinkshe’dmindifIcallherCameron?”

“RightnowIthinkyoucouldcallheranythingandgetawaywithit.”Heevenhadafewsuggestions

onthatfront.

“Okay,timeforplanB,”Wilkinsdecided.“Someoneneedstogobackthereandwakeherup.”

“Soundsgood.Hopethatworksoutforyou.”

“Imeantyou.”WhenWilkinssawJack’sexpression,hegesturedinnocently.“Sorry.Ihavetostay

hereandmanthewheel.”

Grumbling under his breath, Jack opened the car door and stepped out, catching his first good

glimpseatCameronLynde’shome.Oratleast,theplacethatwassupposedlyherhome.

Hestuckhisheadbackintothecar.“Areyousurethisistherightplace?”

“Shesaid3309NorthHenderson.Thisis3309NorthHenderson,”Wilkinssaid.

“Yeah,butthisis...”Jackturnedaroundandtriedtodecidehowbesttodescribethesightbefore

him.

“Onehellofanicehouse,”Wilkinssaidapprovingly.

Thatprettymuchcoveredit.AsJackstoodthereonthestreet,theeleganthouserosegrandlybefore

him,threestoriesabovetheground.Therewasanarchedporticoframedbycolumnsthatflankedthe
entranceway.Sprawlingivyadornedmuchofthehouse,andagardenwrappedaroundtherightside
andstretchedallthewaybacktothegarage.Heguessedtheplacehadtobesittingonatleastacitylot
andahalf.

Thefirstquestionthatpoppedintohisheadwashowagovernment-salariedprosecutorcouldever

affordahouselikethat.

Wilkins appeared to be of a similar mindset. He leaned over the seat and peered through the

passenger-sidewindow.“Whatdoyouthink?Richhusband?”

Jackconsideredthis.Therewasarichsomebody,becauseshecertainlycouldn’taffordthatkindof

houseonherown.Eitherthat,orhehadn’tbeenthatfaroutoflinewhenhe’dmadethecrackthree
yearsagoaboutherbeingonMartino’spayroll.

Wilkinsreadhismind.“Don’tevengothere.That’sexactlythekindofcrapthatgotyouintrouble

lasttime.”

JackpointedtoCameron,stillconkedoutinthebackseat.“TheonlyplaceI’m‘going’isbacktothe

office,assoonaswefixthissituationhere.”Hegrabbedthehandleandopenedherdoor.“Let’sgo,
Ms.Lynde,”hesaidinacommandingtone.

Noresponse.

“She’sstillalive,right?”Wilkinsasked,turningaroundtolook.

Jack leaned into the backseat. He lowered his face toward Cameron’s and listened for sounds of

breathing.“She’salive.”Henudgedhershoulder.“Comeon.Wakeup.”

Stillnoresponse.

“Maybeyoushouldkissher.”SeeingJack’sglare,Wilkinsgrinnedslyly.“Hey—itworkedforthat

onedude.”

JackturnedbacktoCameronandconsideredhisoptions.Hecouldpokeherafewtimes.Tempting.

Douse her with ice-cold water. Extremely tempting. But then knowing her, she’d slap him with a
batterychargeandhe’dbebackinNebraskabysundown.Whichlefthimwithonlyoneoption.

HereachedpastCameronandtossedherpurseovertheseat.“Seeifyoucanfindherkeys,”hetold

Wilkins.

“Areyoukidding?Whatifshewakesupandseesmerummagingaroundinthere?Youdon’ttouch

thepurse.Thepurseissacrosanct.”

“Eitherfindthekeysorgetbackhereandcarryheryourself.”

Wilkins eyed the purse for a moment, then reached in. “It’s worth it. I gotta see you try this. Ten

buckssaysshewakesupandclocksyoubeforeyouhitthefrontsteps.”

Jackgavethataboutseventy/thirtyoddsaswell.HetoldWilkinstopopthetrunk,thengrabbedher

suitcaseandranituptothefrontdoor.Whenhegotbacktothecar,hetookthepurseandsetiton
Cameron’slap.HegotthekeysfromWilkinsandputtheminhisownpocket.Withoutfurtherado,he
scoopedherupintohisarmsandeasedheroutofthecar.

Shesettledagainsthim,stillsleeping,andherheadfellagainsthisshoulder.Hecarriedhertothe

house, thinking that out of all the possible scenarios he had envisioned if he ever again ran into
CameronLynde,thisdefinitelyhadnotbeenamongthem.Hewonderedwhatherneighborsmustbe
thinkingatthesightofhimcarryingherupthefrontstepsinbroaddaylight—ifanyofthemhadthe
friggin’telescopethey’dneedtoseeacrossherlittleurbanestate,thatis.

Jack glanced down. She looked so peaceful right then, and for a split second, he found himself

sympathizing over the long night she must have had. She’d held up amazingly well, all things
considered.

With one hand, he opened the wrought iron gate and carried her up the stairs to the front door.

Becauseofthesizeofthehouse,hethoughtitwasaprettysafebetthatshelivedwithsomeone,andhe
wonderedifthatsomeonewasabouttocomerushingout,allconcerned,andscoopherawayfrom
him.

Itdidn’thappen.

Jack reached into his pocket, pulled out her keys and opened the front door. Still no half-crazed-

with-worryboyfriend/husband/lover.HelookeddownatCameron,snuggledupagainsthischest.Not
thathecared,butwhoevertheguywas,hewaskindofanassholefornotnoticingthatshe’dbeenout
ofcontactforthelasttenhours.

“Cameron,wakeup.”Hisvoicesoundedoddlysoft.Heclearedhisthroat.“You’rehome.”

Shestirredthistime,andJacksetherdownonthestoop,quicktoputspacebetweenthem.Shestood

thereforamoment,groggyanduncertain,andpeeredupasifseeinghimforthefirsttime.

“You.”

“Me.”

Sheblinked,thenthrewanarmintotheair,slurringherwordstiredly.“Go.Pishoff.”

NowJackwasmorethanhappytopishoff,butfirstheneededtomakesureshewassafe.Shewas

hiskeywitness,afterall.Hetossedherthepurse,whichshebarelycaught,andsethersuitcaseinside

thefrontdoor.

“Your keys are in the lock—don’t forget them. Are you alone here?” He asked this last question

solelyoutofprofessionalresponsibility.“You’vehadastrangenight—youmightnotwanttobeby
yourself.”

Hewatchedasshepulledherkeysoutofthelockandputthembackin,thenpushedonthedoorand

staredinconfusionwhenshefounditalreadyopen.

“Yeah...nowI’mthinkingyoureallyshouldn’tbeherebyyourself,”Jacksaid.

Despite being out of it, she had no problem managing to throw a dirty look his way. “I’ll call

Collin,”shemumbled.Thenshesteppedinsideherhouseandslammedthedoorinhisface.

So.

TherewasaCollin.

Jackdidaquickchecktomakesurethehouselookedsecure.Thenheheadedbacktothecarand

climbedin.

Wilkinsheldouthishands.“Well?”

“We’regoodtogo,”Jacksaid.

“Yousureweshouldjustleaveherherealone?”

“She’sgoingtocallCollin.”

“Oh,that’sarelief.Who’sCollin?”

Jackshrugged.“Noclue.AllIknowisthatshe’shisproblemnow,notmine.”

“Ouch.That’salittleharsh.”

“Actually,Iwasgoingforalotharsh,butImightbeoffmygame,”Jacksaid.“Beenalongnight.

Don’tforgetthecoffeeonthewaybackintotheoffice.”

Wilkinsgrinnedashethrewthecarintodrive.“Youknow,IthinkI’mgonnalearnalotfromyou,

Jack.”

Jackwasn’texactlysurewherethatwascomingfrom.Butofcourseitwasverytrue.“Thankyou.”

“You’reamanwhospeakshismind—Irespectthat.AndIbetyourespectthatinothers,too.”

Ah. . . . now he saw where this was going. “Just spit it out if there’s something you want to say,

Wilkins.”

Wilkinsstoppedthecaratafour-wayintersection.“Yourproblemswithherareyourbusiness.Ijust

needtohearyousaythatthoseproblemsaren’tgoingtoaffectthewaywehandlethiscase.”

“Theywon’t.”

“Good.Andformyownpersonaledification—doyouplantobegrumpyandtaciturneverytime

hernamecomesup?”

Jackstudiedhispartnersilently.

Wilkinssmiled.“Ipusheditwiththatone,didn’tI?”

“Commonrookiemistake.Theonequestiontoomany.”

“I’llworkonthat.”

“Seethatyoudo.”Jackturnedbackandlookedoutthewindow,enjoyingthefamiliarviewofallthe

sights he hadn’t seen since leaving Chicago three years ago. After a few moments, he broke the
silence.“Andanotherthing:you’renotsupposedtoactuallytellwitnessesaboutthegloweringthing.
Itruinstheeffect.”

“Soyoudothatintentionally?”

“Oh,I’vebeenworkingonmygloweringskillsforyears.”

Wilkinslookedawayfromtheroadinsurprise.“Wasthatactuallyajokethere?”

“No. And keep your eyes on the road, rookie. Because I’ll be really pissed if you crash this car

beforeIgetmycoffee.”

Five

“ISTILLCAN’Tbelieveyoudidn’tcalleitherofusfromthehotel.”

CameroncouldtellfromthetoneinCollin’svoicethathewasvacillatingbetweenbeingconcerned

aboutherinlightoftheeventsofthenightbefore,andpissedthatthiswasthefirsthe’dheardabout
them.

Inherdefense,afterJackandWilkinshaddroppedheroffathome,herfirstplanhadbeentocall

bothCollinandAmy.Thethreeofthemhadbeenfriendssincecollege,andnormallyshetoldthem
everything. But then she’d remembered that it was Saturday, which meant that Collin would be
workingandAmywouldbeknee-deepinwedding-relatedtasks,especiallysinceherbigdaywasonly
twoweeksaway.Soinstead,Cameronhadshoteachofthematextmessageaskingiftheywantedto
meetfordinneratFrascathatnight.Thenshe’dcrawledintobedandpassedoutforthenextsixhours.

At the restaurant, as soon as the hostess had seated them, Cameron began to tell Collin and Amy

abouttheoccurrencesofthenightbefore—omittinganymentionofSenatorHodges’sinvolvement,
since the FBI was keeping that under wraps. From across the table, she’d watched as Collin grew
moreandmoreagitatedasherstoryprogressed.Andafewminutesago,he’drunhishandthrough
hissandybrownhairandfoldedhisarmsacrosshischest—hisusualgesturewhenworkingthrough
somethingthatbotheredhim.

To Cameron’s left was Amy, who looked as sophisticated as always in her tailored brown shirt-

dressandshoulder-lengthblondehaircutinanangledbob.Shewasmorediplomaticinherresponse
than Collin. “It sounds like you had a pretty intense night, Cameron. You shouldn’t have had to go
throughallthatalone.”

“Iwouldhavecalled”—CameronsaidpointedlytoCollin—“iftheFBIhadn’trestrictedmycalls.”

She turned to her left. “And yes, it was an extremely intense night. Thank you for your concern,
Amy.”Shestartedtogoforherwineglass,butCollinreachedacrossthetableandgrabbedherhand.

“Stop—youknowI’mconcerned,too.”

Cameronglaredathimbutdidn’tpullherhandaway.“ThenstopcomplainingaboutthefactthatI

didn’tcallyou.”

He gave her one of his trademark but-I’m-so-innocent smiles. She’d seen that smile many times

overthelasttwelveyears,andyetitstillworkedonher.Usually.

“I apologize,” Collin said. “I freaked out hearing your story and inappropriately expressed my

emotionsthroughanger.It’saguything.”Hesqueezedherhand.“Idon’tlikethatyouwereoneroom
awayfromamurder,Cam.Strangenoises,watchingamysterious,hoodedmanthroughapeephole—
thiswholethingisfartooHitchcockianforme.”

“AndIhaven’teventoldyouthetwist,”Cameronsaid.“JackPallasisoneoftheagentshandlingthe

casefortheFBI.”

IttookAmyamomenttoplacethename.“Wait—AgentHottie?”

“AgentAsshole,”Cameroncorrectedher.“AgentHottie”hadbeenherformernicknameforJack,

onelongsincedropped.EversinceheaccusedheroftakingbribesfromRobertoMartino.

“Thatisatwist.HowisAgentAssholethesedays?”Collinaskeddryly.AsCameron’sbestfriend,

hewasdefactorequiredtoexhibitanimositytowardJackPallasaswell.

“Moreimportant,howwasitseeinghimafterallthistime?”Amyasked.

“Wetradedsarcasticbarbsandinsultsthewholetime.Itwasnice,catchinguplikethat.”

“Butishestilljustashot?”AmyexchangedalookwithCollin.“Well,oneofushadtoask.”

“That’skindofirrelevant,don’tyouthink?”Cameronmanagedacoollydisdainfullookasshetook

asipofherwine.Thensheswallowedtoofast,nearlychoked,andcoughedwhilegaspingforair.

Amysmiled.“I’lltakethatasayes.”

CamerondabbedherwateringeyeswithanapkinandturnedtoCollinforhelp.

“Don’tlookatme—I’mstayingoutofthisone,”hesaid.

“Iwouldliketoremindbothofyouthatthejerkembarrassedmeonnationaltelevision.”

“No,thejerkembarrassedhimselfonnationaltelevision,”Amysaid.

Cameron sniffed, partially mollified by this. “And I’d also like to point out that because of him,

virtuallyeveryFBIagentintheChicagoareahascarriedagrudgeagainstmeforthepastthreeyears.
Whichhasmadethingstonsoffun,consideringIworkwiththeFBIonanear-dailybasis.”

“Youdon’thavetoseehimagain,doyou?”Collinasked.

“Ifthereisagod,no.”Cameronthoughtaboutthismoreseriously.“Idon’tknow,maybeifthere

aresomefollow-upquestionstheyneedtoask.ButI’lltellyouthis:ifIdoseeJackPallasagain,it
willbeonmyterms.Hemayhavecaughtmeoffguardlastnight,butnexttimeI’llbeprepared.And
atleastI’llbedressedappropriatelyfortheoccasion.”

“Whatwaswrongwiththewayyouweredressed?”Amyasked.

“Iwaswearingyogapantsandgymshoes.”Cameronscoffed.“Imightaswellhavebeennaked.”

“Certainlywould’vemadeforamoreinterestinginterrogation.”

Collin sat back in his chair, all haughty manlike. “You and your high heels. You’re lucky you

weren’tstillinyourunderwear.Betweenthatandbeinginterrogatedinyourgymshoes,whichwould
youprefer?”

Cameronthoughtaboutthis.“DoIstillgettowearhighheelsintheunderwearscenario?”

“Thatwassupposedtobearhetoricalquestion.Youhaveaproblem,”Collinsaid.

Cameronsmiled.“SoIliketoverticallyenhance...I’mafive-foot-three-inchtriallawyer.Cutme

someslack.”

AMYLEFTAPOLOGETICALLYassoonasdinnerwasover,sayingthatsheneededtogetupearly
the following morning to meet with her florist. Cameron and Collin stayed at the restaurant for
anotherroundofdrinks,thenwalkedthefiveblockstoherhouse.

ItwasacrispOctoberevening.Cameronpulledherjacketclosed,beltingitatherwaist.“I’mnot

sureAmy’sgoingtomakeittotheweddingwithouthavinganervousbreakdown.Ikeeptellingherto
letmehelpoutmore.”

“You know how she is—she’s been planning this since she was five,” Collin said. “Speaking of

planning,how’sthebachelorettepartycomingalong?”

“Hercousinsthinkweneedastripper,”Cameronsaid,referringtotheothertwobridesmaids.“But

Amypracticallymademeswearanoathinblood:nostrippers,notackyweddingveil,andabsolutely
nopenisparaphernalia.SoI’mdoingawinetastinganddessertsatmyhouse,andthenwe’llgotoa
barafterward.Ihopeshelikesit.Ifshefiresmeasmaidofhonor,youhavetotakeonthejob,you
know.”

Collinthrewhisarmaroundhershoulders.“Notinamillionyears,babe.”

Cameronsmiledandleanedagainsthim,takingcomfortinthefirmsolidnessofhischest.Inturn,

Collinpulledhertighter,turningserious.“Youknowwewerejustkiddingaroundattherestaurant,
don’tyou?”

“Iknow.”

“Becausewe’reverybothworriedaboutyou.”

“Iknowthat,too.”

Theycametoastopinfrontofherhouse.Collinfacedher,andshecouldseetheworryinhishazel

eyes.“Seriously,Cam—youwereaneyewitness,earwitness,whateveryouwanttocallit,toamurder.
Andyousawthekillerleave.Ihatetogodownthisroadbut...isthereanychanceheknewyouwere
watching?”

Cameronhadaskedherselfthisveryquestionseveraltimesoverthecourseofthelasttwelvehours.

“Iwasbehindthedoorthewholetime.AndevenifheheardmeorsomehowotherwisesuspectedI
was watching, there’s no way he’d know my identity. The FBI and CPD have kept my name
confidential.”

“Notexactlyagoodnightforyou,wasit?”

“That’sputtingitmildly.”

Collincockedhisheadinthedirectionofherhouse.“So,then...wouldyoulikesomecompany

tonight?”

Cameron thought about it. After the bizarre occurrences of the night before, the idea of spending

the night alone in that big house was not particularly appealing. But she knew that if Collin stayed,
therewouldbeproblems.“Thanksforoffering.ButRichardalreadythinksyouspendtoomuchtime
withme.I’llbeokaybymyself.”

TherewasaflickerofemotioninCollin’seyes.“Actually,RichardandIdecidedtotakeabreak.”

Cameron was shocked. She knew they’d been having problems—personally she blamed Richard;

he’d always been a little arrogant and strangely unappreciative of Collin, whom half the male
populationinChicagopracticallyworshipped—butthetwoofthemhadbeentogetherforthreeyears
andshejustassumedthey’dworkthingsout.

“Whendidthishappen?”sheasked.

“Lastnight.HesaidhechangedhismindaboutgoingtoAmy’swedding.Heusedtheold‘But-I’ll-

be-uncomfortable’excuse,butreallyhejustdidn’twanttosacrificeawholeweekendinMichigan.”
Collinemphasizedthislastpartinmockhorror.“Itoldhimthattheweddingisatanicehotel,butyou
knowhim—ifit’snotaFourSeasons,hethinkshe’sroughingit.Anyway,wearguedaboutthat,and
thenwearguedaboutalotofthings,andnow...well,hereweare.”

“Doyouthinkthere’sanychanceit’llallblowoverinafewdays?”Cameronaskedgently.

Collinshookhishead.“Ifhecan’tdothisforme,thenno.Heknowswhatthisweddingmeansto

me,andIthinkthat’stheproblem.It’sallpartofhisstupidcompetitionwithyouandAmy.Sohe’s
movinghisstuffoutofthecondotonight.Probablyrightatthisverymoment.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Cameron hugged him. “So I guess the real question is: do you want some

companytonight?”

“Yes.”Collinheldopenthegateforher.“Butyouhavetopromisetogetmeverydrunk.”

Cameronwalkedupthesteps.“Aslongasyoupromisetostillmakebreakfastinthemorning.”

“Babe,Ialwaysmakebreakfast.Youcan’tevenwarmanEggo.”

“Thatwasonetime.”Theirsenioryear,andCollinhadneverletherliveitdown.“Thestupidbox

said one to two cycles—I did two cycles. How the toaster caught on fire is just as big a mystery to
me.”

SITTINGINTHEIRunmarkedcaracrossthestreet,OfficersPhelpsandKaminwatchedasthecouple
headedupthefrontstepsofthehouse.

“Andthatwillbethelastanybodyseesofthemtonight,”OfficerKaminsaid,satisfied.Hefoldedup

hisSun-TimesasPhelpsstartedthecar.“Foraminutethere,Iwasn’tsureourboywasgonnagetthe
go-aheadsignal.Lookslikehe’shomefreenow.”

Phelpssquinted,tryingtogetabetterlookatthepairastheysteppedinsidethehouse.“Areyousure

Slonskysaidtocheckoutthegirl?”

“Yep.”

“’Cuztheguylooksreallyfamiliartome.Can’tplacehim,though.”

Kamin shrugged. “Can’t help you there. Slonsky said to drive by the girl’s house, make sure

everythinglookssecure.That’sallIknow.”

“Maybeweshouldsithereforamoment,justtobecertainwe’reallclear.”

Notexactlyinahurrytoseekoutmoredangerousassignments,Kaminlikedthereasoningbehind

that.“Worksforme.”

They passed the next twenty minutes in silence, the only noise being the occasional crinkling of

newspaperfromKamin.Hewasreadingthesportssectionwhenhestopped.

“Well,lookatthat.”HeheldthepaperoutsoPhelpscouldsee.“That’stheguywejustsaw,isn’tit?”

Phelpsleanedover,thensatbackinthedriver ’sseat,satisfied.

“Itoldyouhelookedfamiliar.”

ACROSS TOWN, JACK was in his office, once again listening to the muffled sounds of Davis’s
yelling. At least this time, he was pretty sure the ruckus had nothing to do with him. Not directly,
anyway.

HeandWilkinsweretheonlyothertwoagentsintheoffice,giventhatitwasnearlyeleveno’clock

onaSaturdaynight.Sittinginoneofthechairsinfrontofhisdesk,Wilkinsgesturedinthedirection
oftheirboss’soffice.“Ishealwayslikethis?”

“You get used to it,” Jack said. Actually, he didn’t mind Davis’s occasional flare-ups; back in the

army he’d served under several commanders who’d had their fair share of those. Like his former
commanders,Daviswasprettymuchastraightshooter—andloyalashelltotheagentsinhisoffice.
He’dfoughthardtogetJacktransferredbacktotheChicagoofficeassoonasthepositionopenedup.

AfewminuteslaterthecommotiondieddownandDavis’sdoorflewopen.Hestuckhisheadout

andlookedover.“Pallas,Wilkins—you’reup.”

TheytooktheirseatsinDavis’soffice,whichJackhadalwaysfoundoddinnotbeingmuchbigger

thanthosetherestoftheChicagoagentshadbeenassigned.HefiguredtheBureaucouldatleastget
theguyaviewofsomethingmoreinterestingthanthebuilding’sparkinglotforallthecraphehadto
dealwithasspecialagentincharge.Thenagain,knowingDavis,he’dprobablyspecificallyrequested
thatofficeinordertokeeptrackofeveryoneelse’scomingsandgoings.Therecertainlywasn’tmuch
thatslippedpasthim.

“IjustgotoffthephonewithoneofSenatorHodges’sattorneys,”Davisbegan.“He‘requested’that

theybekeptapprisedofanyandallupdatesrelatedtoourinvestigation.”

“Whatyou’dtellhim?”Wilkinsasked.

“That I’m an old man. I tend to forget things. And that if anyone from Senator Hodges’s camp

called me again tonight, I might just so happen to forget the promise I’d made to keep this
investigationconfidential.Therewasagooddealofswearingafterthat,butsofar...”Davisgestured
tothesilentphoneonhisdesk.“Now—let’sfigureouthowwe’regonnahandlethismess.”Helooked

toJack.“What’shappeningwithCPD’sinvestigation?”

“OurcontactisDetectiveTedSlonsky,twentyyearsonthejob,thelastteninhomicide.According

tohim,theonlyprintstheyfoundinthehotelroombelongtothevictimandSenatorHodges.They
foundtracesofsemeninthebedandontopofthedeskandbathroomvanity,andtherewereseveral
usedcondomsinthebathroomgarbage.Allofitfromthesameman.”

“At least we know Senator Hodges practices safe sex when cheating on his wife,” Davis said.

“Anythingelse?”

“Therewerebruisesonbothofthevictim’swrists,presumablyinflictedbythekillerashepinned

herhandsdownwhilesuffocatingher.”

“Anybloodatthescene?Hair?Clothingfibers?”

“No traces of blood. We’re waiting to hear back from the lab on everything else,” Jack told him.

“Andwedidn’tgetmuchluckierwithhotelsecurity.Theydon’thavecamerasinthefloorhallwaysor
thestairwells—andalthoughtheydohavetheminthelobby,thegarage,andotherpublicareasofthe
hotel,there’snosignofourguyinanyofthefootage.Whichmeansthatsofar,Ms.Lynde’sstatement
isouronlyevidencethatthismysterioussecondmanexists.”

Jack saw Davis raise an eyebrow at the mention of Cameron’s name, but his boss refrained from

commenting.Atleastforthetimebeing.

“Allright,here’swherewestand,”Davissaid.“Officially,theBureauonlyhasjurisdictionoverthe

suspected blackmail aspects of this investigation. Unofficially, however, we’ve got a U.S. senator
havingsexontapewithacallgirlwho,justmomentslater,getssmotheredtodeathinthatveryhotel
room—there’snowaywe’resittingonthesidelines.DoyouthinkthisDetectiveSlonskyisgoingto
beaproblem?”

“Notlikely.Heseemedrelievedtohaveourassistanceinlightofthesenator ’sinvolvement,”Jack

said.

Davisnodded.“Good.Theories?”

Jackpaused,lettingWilkinstakethelead.

Wilkinssatupinhischair.“We’recurrentlyworkingontwotheories,bothbasedontheassumption

thatthevictim,MandyRobards,wasinvolvedinaplantoblackmailthesenator.”

“Dowehaveabasisforthatassumption?”Davisasked.

“Thevideotapewasfoundinherpurse.Onthetape,she’stheonewhoshutoffthecameraafterthe

senatorleft.SounlessshewasmakingthetapeforhimasanearlyChristmaspresent,Ithinkit’ssafe
tosayshehadnefariousmotives.”

DavislookedoveratJackwithabemusedgrin.“Nefarious.ThisiswhatwegetwhenwehireaYale

boy.”

“Youmissedsacrosanctearlier.Andtaciturnandglowering,”Jacksaid.

“What’sglowering?”

“Me,apparently.”

Wilkinspointed.“Nowthathastobeajoke.”HeturnedtoDavis.“Youheardthat,right?”

Davisdidn’tanswerhim,havingspunhischairaroundtotypesomethingathiscomputer.“Let’ssee

whatGooglesays...Ah—hereitis.‘Glowering:dark;showingabroodingillhumor.’”

Davisspunbackaround,withanodatWilkins.“Youknow,IthinkMerriam-Websterhereisright,

Jack—youdohaveagloweringwayaboutyou.”ThenheturnedtoWilkins.“Andyes,thatwasajoke.
ItnormallytakesaboutayeartoaccuratelydetectAgentPallas’ssmallforaysintohumor,butyou’ll
getthere.”

About this time, Jack was trying to remember why the hell he’d been so eager to get back to

Chicago. At least in Nebraska a man could brood in peace. “Perhaps we should get back to our
theories,”hegrumbled.

“Right. So our first theory is that the girl set up the blackmail scheme—maybe working with

someoneelse,maybenot—andsomeoneconnectedtothesenatorfoundoutandkilledhertokeepthe
affairfrombecomingpublic,”Wilkinssaid.

“Buttheyleftthevideotapebehind,”Davisnoted.

“Maybetheydidn’tknowthetapewasactuallyintheroom.Ormaybetheypanickedafterkillingthe

girl,ormaybesomethingscaredthemoff,likehearingMs.Lyndecallingsecurityinthenextroom.”

Davidtoyedwithhispen,consideringthis.“Andthesecondtheory?”

“Our second theory is that the whole thing was a set up and someone killed the girl to frame the

senatorformurder.Whattheydidn’tcountonwasMs.Lyndeseeingtherealkillerleavingthehotel
room.”

“Goingwiththosetwotheoriesforthemoment,whodoesthatputonourlistofsuspects?”Davis

asked.

“PrettymuchanyonewhoeitherlikesorhatesSenatorHodges,”Wilkinssaid.

“Gladtohearwe’renarrowingitdown.”Davisleanedbackinhischair,musingaloud.“Whatdowe

makeofthefactthatHodgeswasrecentlynamedchairmanoftheBankingCommittee?”

“It’s an angle we’re looking into,” Jack said. “What bothers me are the contradictions: the crime

sceneisclean—nophysicalevidencewasleftbehind.Thatwouldsuggestaprofessional,somebody
who knew what they were doing or at least thought about it in advance. But the murder itself feels
amateurish.Angry.Suffocationisalotmorepersonalthanabullettothehead.Somethingdoesn’tadd
up.IthinkourfirststepistotalktoHodges’speopleandfindoutwhoknewhewashavinganaffair.”

“I’mnotsureSenatorHodgesisgoingtolikethatidea.Orhisattorneys,”Davissaid.

“Perhapswhenwemakeitclearthatthesenator ’scontinuedcooperationistheonlythingkeeping

himfrombeingarrestedformurderingacallgirl,he’llwarmuptoit,”Jacksaid.

“All right—let me know if you need me to run interference with Hodges’s lawyers. Last thing—

what’shappeningwithourwitness?SoundslikethesenatorcaughtabreakhavingMs.Lyndeinthe
roomnexttohim.”

“For starters, very few people outside this room know there is a witness,” Wilkins said. “We’re

keeping that quiet for now. As a courtesy, Detective Slonsky sent a squad to drive by her house
tonight, although the officers haven’t been given any specifics about the case. They called in just a
fewminutesagoandreportedthatMs.Lyndereturnedtothehousewithamalecompanionandthat

everythinglookedsecure.”

“DowehaveareasontobelieveMs.Lyndeisindanger?”Davisasked.

“Notaslongasheridentityiskeptconfidential,”Wilkinssaid.

DavissawJackhesitate.“Youhaveadifferentopinion,Jack?”

“Idon’tliketheideaofourkeywitness’ssecuritybeingdependentonourbeliefthateveryonewill

keepheridentityconfidential.Seemslikeanunnecessaryrisk.”

Davisnodded.“Iagree.AndgivenMs.Lynde’sposition,I’dliketoerronthesideofcautionhere.

Politically,itwouldbeanightmareifsomethinghappenedtoanassistantU.S.attorneyaspartofan
FBIinvestigation.”

“We’llsetupaprotectivesurveillance,”Jacksaid.“WecancoordinatewithCPDonthat.”

“Good.”Davispointed.“Ialsowanttwice-dailyreportsfromyoutwo.AndIhaveacallscheduled

forMondaymorningtoupdatethedirectorontheinvestigation—Iexpectyoubothtobepresentfor
that.Now,Wilkins,ifyoudon’tmind,I’dliketospeaktoAgentPallasalone.”

Jackwasnotsurprisedbythis.He’dhadafunnyfeelingtherewasalectureloomingonthehorizon

eversinceCameron’snamehadcomeup.

DaviswaiteduntilWilkinsshutthedoorbehindhim.“ShouldIbeworried,Jack?”

“No.”

Davis watched Jack with sharp gray eyes. “My understanding is that Ms. Lynde has been very

cooperativeinthisinvestigation.”

“Shehas.”

“Iexpectustoreciprocate.”

“Ofcourse.”

Therewasamomentofsilence,andJackknewDaviswastakinginthetautsetofhisjawandthe

tensionthatrolledoffhisbodyinwaves.

“I’mnottryingtobeahard-asshere,”Davissaid,notunkindly.“Ifit’sgoingtobeaproblemfor

youtoworkwithher—”

“Therewon’tbeanyproblem.”Jackstaredhisbossstraightintheeyes.CameronLyndemayhave

beenaproblemforhimonce,butthatwasnotamistakehe’drepeat.“Thisisjustanothercase,and
I’llhandleitlikeanyother.”

“Ms. Lynde should be made aware of the protective surveillance. I’d like her to feel comfortable

withthis.It’sgoingtobesomewhatofanintrusion.”

“Notaproblem.I’lltalktoheraboutitfirstthingtomorrow.”

After studying Jack for a moment, Davis appeared satisfied. “Good. Done.” He pointed in the

directionofWilkins’soffice.

“Now—tellmehowthekidisdoing.”

Six

ASCOLLINUNPACKEDthegroceries,heheardCameronstarttheshowerinthemasterbathroom
upstairs.Frompastexperience,heknewthismeanthehadapproximatelytwenty-twominutesbefore
shemadeanappearance.Plentyoftimetowhipsomethingupforbreakfast.

Itneverceasedtoamusehim,asithadearlierthatmorningwhenhe’dfirstcheckedthefridge,how

little her culinary skills—or lack thereof—had changed since college. Actually, what amused him
mostwasjusthowpredictableshewas.Aftertwelveyears’experience,he’dknownexactlywhathe
wouldfindwhenheopenedtherefrigeratordoors:onesolitaryunopenedEggBeatercartonthathad
expired four weeks earlier; a bag of bagels and three tubs of different-flavored cream cheeses, all
oneschmearawayfromempty;andtwodozenLeanCuisineentreesinthefreezer,neatlyorganized
accordingtothefourmajorfoodethnicities:Italian,Asian,Mexican,andmacaroniandcheese.

Which was why a trip to Whole Foods had been in short order that morning, if Collin had any

intention of keeping his promise to make breakfast. Luckily the grocery store was only two blocks
away. Even more convenient, it happened to be right across the street from an independent coffee
shop, The Fixx, whose six-shot specialty latte, the “Smith and Wesson,” packed enough punch to
knockthehangoveroutofeventhesorriestoflate-nightdrinkers.Intruth,Collinknewhe’donlyget
throughaboutfivesipsofthestuffbeforethrowingtherestoutindisgust.Butwhatcouldhesay—he
gotakickoutoforderingadrinknamedafteragun.Anotherguything,perhaps.

Helocatedatwelve-inchskilletinthecabinetabovethestove—actuallyitwasn’tatallhardtofind;

itwasinexactlythesamespothe’dleftitthelasttimehe’dsleptover.Hecoatedthepanwithsomeoil
and added zucchini and mushrooms to sauté while he fired up the broiler. He’d decided to make
frittatasinsteadoftheomeletCameronhadrequestedasthey’dpartedwaysatthetopofthestairslast
night. With frittatas, he figured, she could always reheat the leftovers and might actually have two
wholemealsinonedaythatdidn’tcomeoutofabox.

CollinwasfeelingveryprotectiveofCameron,moresothanusual.Forhersake,hewastryingnot

toshowit,buthestillfeltuneasyabouthernearbrushwithakillertwonightsago.Ofcourseshe’d
playedtheroleofthenerves-of-steelprosecutortothehilt—partofthewallshehadputupafterher
father ’sdeath—buthesuspectedshewasmorefreakedoutthansheleton.Anditcertainlydidn’thelp
thattheFBIhadassignedJackPallastotheinvestigation.Giventheirhistory,hisinvolvementinthe
case undoubtedly had sent Cameron’s insecurities about showing “weakness” into maximum
overdrive.

ThesuddenreappearanceofJackPallasinChicagowasindeedaninterestingdevelopment.Collin

remembered how furious Cameron had been, rightfully so, over the infamous “head up her ass”
comment.Buthealsoremembered,despiteheranger—andhewasonlyoneofahandfulofpeople
whoknewthisjuicytidbit—howhardshehadtriedtodissuadetheDOJfromtransferringPallasout
ofChicago.

Hehadalwaysfoundthatparticularcontradictionquitecurious.

Collin was sprinkling cheese on top of the frittatas when the doorbell rang. Considering that it

wasn’t his house, and also considering that Cameron hadn’t mentioned that she was expecting
anybody, he ignored it. Just as he was putting the skillet under the broiler, the doorbell rang again.

Twice.

Collinshuttheoven.“Allright,allright,”hegrumbled.Hecutthroughthediningandlivingrooms

andheadedtothefrontdoor.Itwaswhenhereachedtounlockthedeadboltthatherealizedhewas
stillwearingtheovenmitts.Hetookoneoffandopenedthedoor.Hefoundtwoguysonthedoorstep,
staringathiminsurprise.

Collin’seyespassedoverthemaninthetailoredsuitandrestedonthetallerguy,theonewearing

jeansandablazer.

Well,well,well...ifitwasn’tSpecialAgentJackPallasintheflesh.

Collin straightened up. It may have been three years, but no introduction was necessary. He knew

exactlywhotheguywasfromallthemediacoveragesurroundingtheMartinoinvestigationandthe
subsequent fallout with Cameron. Not to mention, Jack Pallas was not a man who was easily
forgotten.Definitelynothistype—meaningstraight—butthatdidn’tmeanhecouldn’trecognizethat
hewaslookingatonedamngood-lookingindividual.Withalean,muscularbuildandafacethatwas
justbarelysavedfrombeingalmosttoohandsomebythatfiveo’clockshadowthatprobablystarted
somewhere around 9:00 A.M., Jack Pallas was one of those men that made other men wish they
weren’tstandingonadoorstepwearingred-checkeredovenmitts.

But just as he was starting to feel a bit territorial and defensive, Collin noticed that Pallas was

similarlystudyinghim.Andmaybethescrutinizingonce-overwassimplytheinstinctivereactionof
theFBIagent,butamancouldusuallysensewhenhewasbeingsizedup.

Feelinggoodabouthavingtheupperhand,Collinsmiled.“Gentlemen.CanIhelpyou?”

Jack’seyeslingeredontheovenmitts.Whathemadeofthemwastoughtosay.

He pulled a badge out of his jacket. “I’m Special Agent Jack Pallas with the FBI, this is Agent

Wilkins.We’dliketospeakwithCameronLynde.”

“She’s in the shower. Been in there for a while, so I don’t think it’ll be much longer.” Collin

gesturedinsidethehouse.“I’vegotsomethingintheoven.Youguyswanttocomein?”

Leavingthedooropen,Collinturnedandheadedbacktothekitchentocheckonthefrittata.Ashe

tooktheskilletoutoftheovenandsetitonthecounter,hewatchedoutofthecornerofhiseyeasthe
twoagentssteppedintothelivingroomandshutthefrontdoorbehindthem.HecouldseeJackdoing
a quick survey of the house, taking in the relative lack of furniture in the front two rooms. Due to
budgetary constraints, Collin knew, Cameron was furnishing the house in a piecemeal fashion. The
livinganddiningroomswerelowonhertotempolegiven,asshehadoncesaid,thatshedidn’tdoa
lotofformalentertaining.

Being there as often as he was, Collin had gotten used to the sparseness of the decor, the simple

leatherarmchairandreadinglampoppositethefireplacethatwerethesolefurnishingsintheliving
room,andthemodestfour-persontableandchairsthatlookedpracticallyLilliputianinthespacious
tray-ceilingdiningroom.He’dhazardaguessthatJack,however,wasspeculatingrightthenaboutthe
circumstancesunderwhichapersonwouldownsuchabighouseandleavehalfofitsittingempty.

Collinpulledtheovenmittsoff.“Youguysaremakingmenervousbyhoveringthere.Whydon’t

youcomein—I’llgocheckonCamandletherknowyou’rehere.”

He felt Jack’s eyes on him as he made his way up the wide, open staircase that led to the upper

floors.Onthesecondfloor,heenteredthefirstroomontheright,themastersuite.Theshowerwas
stillrunning,soheknockedandopenedthedooracrack.

“You’vegotvisitors,babe,”Collinsaid,tryingnottolethisvoicecarry.“FBIwantstotalktoyou.”

Heshutthedoorandwentbackdownstairs,wherehefoundthetwoagentswaitinginthekitchen.“It
shouldn’tbemuchlonger.CanIgeteitherofyousomethingtodrink?”

“I’mfine,thankyou,Mr....”Jackcockedhishead.“I’msorry,Ididn’tcatchyourname.”

“Collin.”

HesawthatthisregisteredwithJack.AlookofrecognitioncrossedWilkins’sface.

“That’sit!You’reCollinMcCann,”Wilkinssaid.

Collingrinned.Ah...fans.Henevergottiredofmeetingthem.“Guiltyascharged.”

Wilkins rocked back on his heels excitedly. “I thought you looked familiar when you opened the

door,butittookmeamoment.Something’sdifferentfromthepicturethey’vegotinthepaper.”

“It’sthegoatee.Anunfortunatechoiceinmylatetwenties.I’vebeentryingtogetthemtochangethe

photo,butapparentlyittestswellwiththeeighteentothirty-fourdemographic.”

Jack’seyesdartedbetweenthem.“I’mmissingsomethinghere.”

“He’sCollinMcCann,”Wilkinsemphasized.“Youknow,thesportswriter.”

Jackshookhishead.Noclue.Collintriedtodecidehowoffendedhewasbythis.

Wilkins explained. “He does a weekly column for the Sun-Times where he writes directly to the

teams—you know, ‘Dear Manager,’ ‘Dear Coach So-And-So’—and he makes recommendations on
trades, what players to start, how to improve the team, those kinds of things.” He turned back to
Collin.“ThatwasonehellofaletteryouaddressedtoPiniellalastweek.”

Collinchuckled.He’dpissedoffalotofCubsfanswiththatone.“Neededtobesaid.Whenpeople

stopdroppingthousandsofdollarsinseasonticketsforateamthathasn’twonaWorldSeriessince
1908,maybetheownersandmanagementwillfinallybemotivatedtoputtogetheraballclubthat’s
worthyofitsfans.”

Wilkinsglancedover,embarrassedforhispartner.“Seriously,Jack,Ithinkyoumightbetheonly

guy in this city who hasn’t read his stuff. Collin McCann is like the Carrie Bradshaw of Chicago
men.”

“YoumeanTerryBradshaw,”Jackcorrected.

“No,Carrie,”Wilkinsrepeated.“Youknow,SarahJessicaParker.SexandtheCity.”

AsilencefellovertheroomasCollinandJackstaredatWilkins,seriouslyfearingforthefateof

men.

Wilkinsshiftednervously.“Myex-girlfriendmademewatchtheshowwhileweweredating.”

“Sure,youkeepstickingwiththatstory.”JackturnedtoCollin.“SorryIdidn’trecognizethename.

I’vebeenoutoftouchforawhile.”

“Oh?TheSun-Timesdoesn’tdelivertoNebraska?”Collinquippedwithoutthinking.

Oops.

He saw the flicker in Jack’s eyes and could read the agent’s thoughts as clearly as if there was a

cartoon bubble above his head. So . . . he knows where I’ve been the last three years. She’s talked
aboutmetothisjoker,then.Whoishe,andhowmuchdoesheknow?Exceptontheissueofsports,a
subjectonwhichheclearlyisall-knowing.

“Actually,ImeantthatI’dbeenworkingundercoverthelasttimeIlivedinthiscityanddidn’thave

much time to read the paper.” Jack eased back against the counter and took in the kitchen, a room
much higher on Cameron’s totem pole that recently had been remodeled. His gaze fell to the
hardwoodathisfeet.“Thefloorsturnedoutgreat.Youhaveaveryniceplacehere.”

“I’llbesuretopassyourcomplimentsalongtoCameron,”Collinsaid.

“Oh,Iassumedyoulivedhereaswell.”

“Nope,justvisiting.”

A smoky, feminine voice interrupted them. “And apparently letting unexpected visitors into my

house.”

ThethreementurnedandfoundCameronstandinginthedoorway.SheworejeansandagrayT-

shirt that hugged tight to her chest, and she had her long hair pulled up into some sort of
ponytail/bun-typething.Shelookedadorableinafresh-faced,kicking-back-on-the-weekendkindof
way.

Collinstoodfartherfromthedoorway,wherehehadaviewofJack.Andalthoughitwassubtle,he

wasprettysurehesawtheagentrunhiseyesoverCameronbeforeresuminghisguardedexpression.

Interesting.

Cameronfoldedherarmsacrossherchest.“AgentPallas...thisisasurprise.Iwasn’tawarewe

hadanappointmentthismorning.”Shepeeredaroundhimandherexpressionturnedwarmer.“Hello,
AgentWilkins.Nicetoseeyouagain.SorryifIkeptyouwaiting.”

“Noproblem—wewerejustcatchingupwithyourboyCollinhere,”Wilkinssaid.

CameronturnedherattentionnexttoCollin.“CanIspeakwithyouforamoment?”

“Of course, dear.” Collin followed Cameron into the living room. When they were safely out of

earshot,shepokedhiminthechest.

“Whatishedoinginmyhouse?”shewhispered.

“Therewasabadge.Andsomemildlyintimidatinggazes.Ifeltitwasbesttocooperate.”

Shepokedhimagain.“Idon’twanthiminmyhouse.”

“I’msorry,Ididn’trealizeyou’dgetthisflusteredoverJackPallas.”

Cameronscoffedatthis.“I’mnotflustered.Ijustprefertohandlehimonmyterms.Asin,atmy

office,atatimewhenI’mmorepreparedforabusinessmeeting.”

Collin’sgazefelltoherbarefeet.Herecalledhervowtobemoresuitablydressedthenexttimeshe

encounteredJackPallas.“You’relosingclothingeverytimeyouseehim.Atthisrate,you’llbenaked
infrontofhimbeforeyouknowit.”

Thenthestrangestthinghappened.

Cameronblushed.

“I’m perfectly capable of keeping my clothes on around him, thank you,” she said, her cheeks

tingedrosypink.

Collinwasintrigued.Hecouldn’trecallthelasttimehe’dseenCameronblushbecauseofaguy.

Theplotthickened.

“He’s even better looking in person,” Collin said, seizing the opportunity to probe deeper. “No

wonderyounicknamedhimAgentHottie.”

Cameron threw him the evil-eye. “He’s in the next room. We are so not going to have this

conversationrightnow.”

Collinlookedherover.“Youseemprettytense.Areyougettinganysexthesedays?”

“MyGod,Collin...timeandplace.”

Hegrinned.“Fine.We’llcontinuethisconversationlater.Ishouldgetgoinganyway—leaveyouand

theboystodiscusswhateveritisyouneedtotalkabout.”

Cameronfrowned.“Butyoumadebreakfast—youshouldatleaststaytoeat.Itsmellsfantastic.”

Collin leaned in and kissed her forehead affectionately. “There’ll be more for you this way. You

needahome-cookedmealahellofalotmorethanIdo.”

Shechuckedhimunderthechin.“Youwerepokingaroundinmyfreezeragain,weren’tyou?”

“It’spathetic,babe.Trulypathetic.”

ASCAMERONHEADEDbackintothekitchenwithCollin,thefirstthingshenoticedwasthatJack
lookeduncomfortable.ProbablynotparticularlythrilledtobespendinghisSundaymorningwithher.

“Iapologizeifwe’reinterrupting,”hesaid.

“Actually,it’sfine—Iwasjustleaving,”Collinsaid.“Gotsomeworktocatchupon.”

Wilkins’sfacelitup.“Nextweek’scolumn?Canyougivemeahint?I’mahugefan,”heexplained

toCameron.

Because Wilkins was such a nice person, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Guys geeked out

over Collin all the time and, frankly, his healthy ego was a testament to that. “He’s a very talented
writer,”sheagreeddiplomatically.

Collinsnorted.“Likeyouwouldknow.When’sthelasttimeyoureadoneofmycolumns?”

Shepooh-poohedthiswithawave.“Ireadyourcolumnallthetime.”

“Oh?Whatwaslastweek’sabout?”heasked.

“Sportsstuff.”

CollinturnedtoWilkinsandJack.“ThisiswhyIsticktomen.”

CameronwatchedasJackandWilkinsprocessedthemeaningofCollin’sremark.Wilkinsblinked.

“Holyshit,Ididn’trealizeyouwere...”hetrailedoffuncomfortably.

“A Sox fan? I get that a lot,” Collin said teasingly. He gave Cameron a quick peck on her cheek.

“Thanksforthehospitality,Cam.Ifyoucanhandleaseconddrowningofthesorrows,I’llcallyou
later and let you know how it went with Richard. Hopefully when he moved his things out of the
apartment,heatleasttookhisCDs.Imean,wemightbegay,but...Enya?Really?”Withanodin
farewell, he addressed each of the two men. “Wilkins—it was a pleasure; it’s always nice to meet a
fan.Ihopetheotheragentsdon’tmakefunofyoutoomuchwhenyourpartnerheretellsthemabout
theCarrieBradshawcomment.AndasforyouAgentPallas—man-to-man,ifyoueverinsultmygirl
onnationaltelevisionagain,I’ll...”hestopped.

Everyoneintheroomwaited,hanging.Jackraisedaneyebrow.“Yes?”

Collin turned to Cameron with a look of astonishment. “I’ve got nothing. I had this whole exit

speechgoingandIwasgonnaendwithsomebigmachothreatbutwhenIgotthere,itwaslike—bleh
—nothing.That’sapisser.”Heappeareddisgustedwithhimself,thenshruggeditoff.“Ohwell.Catch
youguyslater.”

Hestrodeoutwithoutasecondglance.

Seven

AFTERCOLLINSHUTthefrontdoorbehindhim,CameronshruggedatthetwoFBIagents.

“He gets a little protective sometimes.” She said this not as an apology, more an explanation.

Althoughintruth,itwouldtakealotmoretimethananyofthemhadthatmorningtofullyexplainthe
wonderthatwasCollin.

“Howlonghaveyoutwobeenfriends?”Wilkinsasked.

“Sincecollege.Welivedtogetheroursenioryear,alongwithourfriendAmy.”Cameroneyedthe

frittataandrealizedshewasstarving.SheglancedoveratJack,whostoodagainstthecounterlooking
as though he didn’t plan to leave anytime soon. She sighed. Apparently she’d be having a side of
scowlingFBIagentwithhereggsthatmorning.

“I assume this has something to do with the Hodges investigation?” She walked over to the

overhead cabinet to the left of the sink and pulled out three plates. She handed one to Wilkins and
gesturedtothefrittata.“Helpyourself.Ifit’shalfasgoodasCollin’somelets,youwon’twanttopass
thisup.”

SheofferedaplatetoJack,catchinghislookofsurprise.Sure,shehadhershareofflaws,butbeing

rudetoguestsinherhomewasn’toneofthem.Correction:beingobnoxiouslyrudetoguestsinher
homewasn’toneofthem.Whensaidguesthaddeclaredonnationaltelevisionthatshehadnoballs,
shestillconsideredvagueaspersionsandsemitransparentsnubstobewithinbounds.

“No,thanks,”hesaidawkwardly.“I...ateearlier.”

CamerongrabbedforksandnapkinsforherandWilkins,feelingJack’seyesonher.Sheignored

this and paused for a moment at the utensil drawer, debating over what one might use to slice a
frittata.Apizzaslicer?Apiecutter?

“Howaboutaspatula?”

CameronsawJackwatchingherwithamusement.

“It’sthatflatmetalthingwiththehandlebyyourlefthand,”hesaid.

“I know what a spatula is,” she assured him. And she actually knew how to use one, too—for

flipping grilled cheese sandwiches. One of the few things she could make without burning. Fifty
percentofthetime.Maybeforty.

She served herself a hearty slice of the frittata and took a position against the counter on the

oppositesidefromJack.Itfeltoddstandingclosetohimintheconfinesofherkitchen.Toointimate.

“Doyouhavealeadintheinvestigation?”Cameronaskedbetweenbites.

“Not yet,” Jack said. “We’re waiting on the lab reports, and we’re going to interview Senator

Hodges’s staff over the next few days. The purpose of this visit is to discuss some security issues
relatedtoyou.”

Cameronstoppedeatingandsetherplatedownonthecounter,notlikingthesoundofthat.“What

kindofsecurityissues?”

“We’dliketoplaceyouunderprotectivesurveillance.”

Shefeltherstomachtightenintoahardknot.“Youthinkthat’snecessary?”

“Consideritaprecautionarymeasure.”

“Why?DoyouhaveareasontobelievethatI’mindanger?”

“I would put anyone who witnessed this high-profile of a murder under surveillance,” Jack said

vaguely.

“That’snotananswer.”Cameronturnedtohispartner.“Comeon,Wilkins—you’rethegoodcop.

Levelwithme.”

Wilkinssmiled.“Surprisingly,Idon’tthinkJack’stryingtobethebadcopthistime.He’stheone

whosuggestedthatyoubeprotected.”

“Ifthat’sthecase,thenImustreallybetoast.”

Shockingly,Cameroncould’veswornshesawJack’slipstwitchatthecorners.

“You’renottoast,”hesaid.“Ifitmakesyoufeelbetter,therearepoliticsinplayhere.Davisisn’t

goingtoletanythinghappentoafederalprosecutorwho’sassistinganFBIinvestigation.”

“You’restillskirtingaroundtheissue.WhyisiteventheoreticallypossiblethatI’dbeindanger?

Thekillerneversawme.”

“Wehaveacoupleoftheoriesaboutwhatwentoninthathotelroom,”Jacksaid.“Myinstinctisthat

someone was trying to frame Senator Hodges for murder. If that’s the case, when that someone
realizesthattheFBIhasn’tarrestedHodges,he’sgoingtostartwonderingwhy.Andalthoughyour
involvement in this case is being kept confidential, we’d be foolish to ignore the risk of a leak. I’d
liketobepreparedforthatpossibility.”

“ButIbarelygotalookattheguy,”Cameronsaid.“HecouldwalkrightuptomeonthestreetandI

wouldn’trecognizehim.”

“That’sexactlywhyyou’reunderprotectivecustody.”

Cameron fell silent. Sure, she’d always known the situation was serious—a woman had been

smotheredtodeath,afterall—butinthehoursthathadpassedsinceFridaynight,she’dbeenhoping,
perhaps naively, that her involvement in the mystery surrounding Mandy Robards’s death and the
blackmailingofSenatorHodgeswasprimarilyover.

Shereachedupandpinchedbetweenhereyes,feelingaheadachecomingon.“Icould’vestayedat

anyotherhotelthatnight,butno—ithadtobethePeninsula.”

“We’llkeepyousafe,Cameron.”

She peered up at the unexpected words of reassurance. Jack seemed about to say something else,

thenhisexpressionturnimpassiveonceagain.“You’reourkeywitness,afterall,”headded.

“Sowillitbejustyoutwowatchingme,orwilltherebeotherfederalagentsinvolved?”Cameron

asked.

“Actually,sincetheBureauhasprimaryinvestigativeresponsibility,CPDwillhandletheprotective

custody,”Wilkinssaid.

Soitwouldn’tbeJackguardingher.“Oh.Good.”Theideaofbeingincontinualcontactwithhim

unnervedher.Notbecauseshecouldn’thandlehim,butbecauseshedidn’tneedhimglaringatherall
daylong.Thosedark,watchfuleyeswereenoughtoputanyoneonedge.

“Howwillthisprotectivesurveillancework?”Asaprosecutorshe’dhadcaseswhereshe’dplaceda

witnessinprotectivecustody—usually,asJackhadsaid,merelyasaprecautionarygesture—butshe’d
neverbeenonthisendofthings.

“There’llbeacarpostedinfrontofyourhousewheneveryou’rehere,andtheofficerswillfollow

youtoandfromwork.Whenyougettoyouroffice,you’llbeprotectedtherebybuildingsecurity,”
Jacksaid.

Cameronnodded.TheU.S.attorney’sofficeswerelocatedintheDirksenFederalBuilding,along

with the U.S. District Court for the Northern District of Illinois and the Seventh Circuit Court of
Appeals.Everyoneenteringthebuildinghadtopassthroughmetaldetectors,andanyonewantingto
access her floor needed proper identification. “What about when I go places other than work or
home?”

“Suchas?”

“Idon’tknow,alltheplacespeopleusuallygo.Tothegrocerystore.Tothegym.Ortomeetmy

friends for lunch.” She deliberately didn’t mention that she also had a date on Wednesday evening,
thinkingthatparticularinformationwasnobody’sbusinessbutherown.Well,CollinandAmyknew,
buttheydidn’tcount.Theykneweverything.

“Iguessyou’lljusthavetogetusedtohavingapolicecaroutsidethegrocerystore,thegym,and

whereveritisyougoforlunchwithyourfriends,”Jacklectured.“Andthisgoeswithoutsaying:you
needtobecareful.Thepolicesurveillanceisaprecautionarymeasure,buttheycan’tbeeverywhere.
Youshouldsticktofamiliarsurroundings,andbevigilantandalertatalltimes.”

“Igotit.Nowalkingthroughdarkalleyswhiletalkingonmycellphone,norunningatnightwith

myiPod,nocheckingoutsuspiciousnoisesinthebasement.”

“Iseriouslyhopeyou’renotdoinganyofthosethingsanyway.”

“Ofcoursenot.”

Jackpinnedherwithhisgaze.

Sheshiftedagainstthecounter.“Okay,maybe,sometimes,I’vebeenknowntolistentoaBlackEyed

Peassongortwowhilerunningatnight.Theygetmemovingafteralongdayatwork.”

Jack seemed wholly unimpressed with this excuse. “Well, you and the Peas better get used to

runningindoorsonatreadmill.”

ConsciousofWilkins’spresence,andthefactthathewaswatchingherandJackwithwhatappeared

tobeamusement,Cameronbitbackherretort.

ThirtythousandhotelroomsinthecityofChicagoandshepickedtheonethatwouldleadherback

tohim.

Eight

“AREN’TYOUTHEleastbitcurioustoknowwhatthehelltheFBI’sdoing?”

Despitethefactthatthelightwasdim—theyhaddeliberatelychosenatableinadarkcornerofthe

bar—Grant Lombard could tell that Alex Driscoll, Senator Hodges’s chief of staff, was one very
nervousman.FromboththeedgeinDriscoll’svoiceandthewayhiseyeskeptdartingaroundthebar,
Grantknewhewaslookingatamanwhowasstrugglingtokeephisshittogether.

“OfcourseI’mcurious,”Granttoldhim.“ButpushingtheFBIisn’tgoingtogetusanyanswers.

AnditmightlandHodgesinjail.”

Driscollleanedin,loweringhisvoicetoahiss.“Idon’tlikeit—they’rehidingsomething.Iwantto

knowwhyhehasn’tbeenarrested.”

“Whatdothelawyerssay?Forthemoneyyouguysarepayingthem,somebodyshouldbeableto

tellyousomething.”

“Thelittlepricksaretellingustolaylow.”

“Thenmaybethat’swhatyoushoulddo.”Granttookasipofhisbeer—notnormallyhisdrinkof

choice,butanythingstrongercouldimpairhisperceptionandabilitytoreadDriscoll.

“I would think, as the senator ’s personal security guard, that you might want to muster up some

interest in this,” Driscoll spat out. He grabbed one of the cocktail napkins the waitress had brought
withtheirdrinksanddabbedhisforeheadwithit.

ThegesturedidnotgounnoticedbyGrant.Frankly,hewassurprisedDriscollhadsurvivedwithout

havingsomesortoffitorbreakdownwhentheFBIquestionedallofthem.

“AllI’msayingisthatweneedtobeverycautiousinhowwehandlethis.DidHodgesaskyouto

come talk to me?” Grant asked, even though he already knew the answer to that. Hodges didn’t do
anythinghedidn’tknowabout.

“Of course not. He’s so grateful the FBI hasn’t arrested him, he doesn’t take a piss nowadays

without first clearing it with Jack Pallas.” Driscoll took a heavy swig of his whiskey rocks, which
seemedtohelpcalmhim.Eitherthat,orhewaschangingtacticsandabetteractorthanGrantthought.

“Look, Grant, we’ve worked together for a while now. So you’ve been around long enough to

know that a scandal like this can’t be contained forever. Eventually somebody’s going to leak
somethingtothepress.Asthesenator ’stopadvisor,Ineedtoflushoutthoseleaks.Maybeevencatch
thembeforethey’resprung.”

Grantfeignedhesitation.Justashehoped,Driscolltookitupanothernotch.

“Forchrissakes,Grant,it’snotlikeyou’reafuckingboyscout.You’vebeencoveringupHodges’s

affairwiththatwhoreforoverayearnow.”

GrantstaredDriscollintheeyes.“Whatisityouwantmetodo?”

“FindoutwhattheFBIknows.”

“Ifyourtwenty-fivelawyerscan’taccomplishthat,whatmakesyouthinkIcan?”

“Youhaveotherways,”Driscollsaid.“You’vealwayscomethroughforusinthepast.”

“Mywaysrequireincentives.”

“Use whatever incentives you want—as long as I get my answers. I want to know what the FBI’s

hiding,andIwanttoknowfast.”Driscollstoodupandpulledouthiswallet.Hethrewafewbillson
the table. “And remember, you report directly to me. Hodges doesn’t know and will never know
anythingaboutthis.”

“Thesenatorisluckyhehasyoutocleanuphismesses,”Grantsaid.

Driscoll picked up his glass and stared at the amber liquid. “If he only knew the half of it.” He

finishedhisdrinkinoneswallow,settheglassdown,andwalkedoff.

Granttookanotherswigofhisbeer,thinkingabouthowconvenientitwasthatDriscollwassucha

paranoidasshole.

Withthechiefofstaff’sordersasacover,hewasnowfreeandcleartogoaboutusinghiswaysto

find out what the FBI knew, and more important, how concerned he needed to be about their
investigation. They were holding something back, even an idiot like Driscoll could tell that. And
given what Grant personally knew about the crime scene—which of course, was pretty much
everything—the only explanation for the fact that the FBI had not yet arrested Senator Hodges for
Mandy’s murder was that they found something that Grant had overlooked. And as calm as he
might’ve seemed on the outside, that possibility was starting to make him pretty fucking nervous.
Probablybecausethepossibilitythathehadoverlookedsomethingwasnotentirelyfar-fetched.

Hehad,afterall,beeninabitofahurryafterkillingthebitch.

MandyRobards.

Ifhisasswasn’tontheline,Grantwould’vegottenagoodchuckleoutoftheironyofthesituation.

Evendead,shewasstillscrewingpeople.Tookonehellofatalentedprostitutetodothat.

Andtalentedshehadbeen,ifatleasthalfthestoriesHodgeshadtoldaboutherweretrue.

He’dbeenworkingforHodgesfornearlythreeyearsnow.BecauseHodgeswasbothaU.S.senator

and an extremely wealthy man (CNN’s most recent list had estimated his net worth at nearly $80
million),hehademployedaprivatesecurityguardforyears.Whenhispriorbodyguardhadleftthree
years ago to work for the Secret Service, a friend of a friend had recommended Grant as a
replacement.

Generally, Grant liked working for Hodges. It certainly was an interesting job. In a nutshell, he

handledallactualandpotentialthreats,bothdirectandimplied,againstthesenatorandhispolitical
career.ThismeantthatheactedasHodges’spersonalbodyguard,traveledwiththesenatorwherever
he went, and was the liaison between Hodges and the various outside security and investigative
agencies they worked with—everyone from the state and federal officials who handled the death
threatsthesenatoroccasionallyreceived,tothesecuritystaffsatboththeCapitolandSenateOffice
Building.

Overthelastthreeyears,Granthadbecomeoneofthesenator ’smosttrustedconfidants.Infact,he

knewthingsevenDriscolldidn’tknow.

LikehowithadallstartedwiththatdamnViagra.

AccordingtoHodges,he’dstarteddownthelittle-blue-pill-poppingpath“tohelpthingsoutwiththe

wife,”andGrantbelievedthatwastrue.Thesenatorwasessentiallyagood-heartedman,betterthan
most politicians Grant had met (and in his line of work he’d met quite a few), but like most
politicians, he was susceptible to flattery and had a misguided sense of invincibility. So when those

littlebluepillskickedin,andHodgesgotabitmoreviminhisverve,hebegantoavailhimself,soto
speak,offemalecompanionship—ofthepaidvariety.

Withinafewmonthsapatterndeveloped:whenbusinessrequiredthesenatortobeinthecitylateat

night,hewouldspendthenightatahotelinsteadofmakingthefiftyminutedrivebacktohisNorth
Shore estate. On those nights, Grant would arrange for one of the girls to stay in the same hotel.
Hodgeswaseithersmarterthanmostcheatingmen,moreparanoid,orboth—hewouldneverallow
the girls to come to his room. Nor would he buy a condo in the city to use as home base for his
extramaritalaffairs,outoffearthatreporterswouldwatchhisplaceandkeeptrackofthecomings
andgoingsofanyvisitors.

MandyRobardswasnotthefirstgirltheescortservicesent,butafteronlyonenight,shebecame

Hodges’sfavorite.Unbeknownsttothesenator,Granthadtakenuponhimselfthetaskofwaitingin
hiscaroutsidethehotelinordertomakesurethatthewomen“exitedsafelyfromthepremises”(aka
got the hell out of the hotel in the dead of night when no one was watching). In the beginning, his
reasonsforwatchingthegirlshadbeensomewhataltruistic—itwashisjobtoprotectthesenatorafter
all—butquicklyhebegantoseethevalueinhavingasmuchinformationaspossibleaboutHodges’s
dirtysecret.

Fromthecar,hehadobservedthehandfulofwomenthesenatorrotatedthroughastheywentinand

outofthehotel.Mandywasn’ttheprettiestofthebunch—infact,exceptforherflamingredhair,her
looksweregenerallyunstriking—butGrantsuspectedthatwaspartofherappeal.Perhapsthefactthat
shewasn’tdrop-deadgorgeousmadeiteasierforthesenatortobuyintothefour-hourfantasythat
shewastherebecauseshegenuinelylikedhim,notforthetwothousanddollarsincashhehandedher
onthewayoutthedoor.

WhatGranthadseeninMandy,ontheotherhand,wasanopportunist.

It was after her third visit with the senator, probably about the time she felt safe in assuming that

she’dbecomeoneofhisregulars,thatshe’dstartedthingsinmotion.Althoughitwouldbemonths
beforeGrantrealizedit.

Shehadexitedthehotel—theFourSeasonsthattime—nearlyfourhourstotheminuteaftershe’d

arrivedand surprised himby ignoring theopen cabs that droveby. Normally, thegirls made a fast
getaway from the hotel, probably to shower. Instead she lingered for a moment, then turned and
strodetowardhiscarinherhigh-heeledblackleatherboots.Sheknockedonhiswindowandcocked
herheadatananglewhenheunrolledit.

“Wanttojoinmeforadrinkatthebar?”sheaskedinherpack-a-dayvoice.

While normally such a suggestion from a woman would have certain connotations, Grant had

sensed this was more than a casual invitation. True, he was a good-looking guy and worked out
everyday to maintain the muscular build he’d acquired in his Marine Corps days, but seeing how
she’djusthadsexwithanotherman—hisboss,noless—theideaofherhittingonhimrightthenwas
justgross.

Thus assuming there was more to it, Grant had agreed. Truthfully, he was intrigued. And he was

moreintrigued,anhourlater,whenheleftthehotelbarhavinggottennothingfromMandyotherthan
thedistinctimpressionthatshe’dbeenchattinghimupoverdrinks.She’dseemedeagertolearnabout
himandhisbackground,yetallshe’drevealedaboutherselfwasoneminor(andfrankly,notexactly
jaw-dropping)detail.

“It’snotlikeIwanttobeanescortforever,youknow,”shesaidwithasigh.

Noshit,really?Andherehe’dthoughtprostituteshadsuchgood401(k)plans.

ButGrantkepthismouthshut.Andafterhernextvisitwiththesenator,Mandyaskedhimtojoinher

for another drink, and then the visit after that, too. It became an arrangement between them, and it
wasn’tlongbeforetheirtalkbecamelesscasual.Nevertheless,outofanabundanceofcautiononboth
their parts, it took about five months of circular conversations, the loops of which gradually grew
smallerandsmaller,beforetheyfinallygotdowntothepoint.

Blackmail.

What made it work, in essence, was that they were both gamblers. Grant’s game was poker, and

some unfortunate losses at high stakes tables had put a real stress on his credit. Mandy’s game was
sex,andshe’dbeenwaitingfortheescortservicetothrowhertheperfectscore.Whenthemarried
seniorsenatorfromIllinoisshoweduponherhotelroomdoorstep,sheknewshe’dfoundhim.

Theplantheydevisedhadthreeparts:theywouldcatchHodgesonvideoperformingthoseactsof

service generally considered outside the traditional senator/constituent relationship. Mandy would
thenpresentHodgeswithacopyofthevideoandherdemand.WhenHodgesbalkedattheblackmail
andturnedtohispersonalsecurityguardandmosttrustedconfidantforadvice,Grantwouldmakea
bigshowofexploringalltheoptions.Hewouldthenusehisinfluencetosteerthesenatorawayfrom
goingtotheauthorities,andwouldultimatelyandmostreluctantlyinformhimthathehadnochoice
buttopay.

Theywerecarefulintheirplanning,onlymeetinginperson.Noexchangesbyphoneoremail.No

records that could link them together. They decided it would be a one-time deal, after which they
would go their separate ways. Mandy would quit the escort service and get out of town, and Grant
wouldcontinueonwithbusinessasusual,withthesenatornonethewisertohisinvolvementinthe
scheme.

Theyagreedtoaskforfivehundredthousanddollars.

Thentheyagreeditwasn’tenoughandbumpedituptoacoolmillion.

NotanexorbitantsumtoHodges,whosefamilyhadfoundedoneofthelargestgrocerystorechains

inthecountryandownedanNFLfootballteam,andcertainlyanamounthecouldpaywithoutmuch
doing. But it was enough to get Grant back on his feet after the gambling losses and more than
enoughtogetMandyoffherback.Theprofitswouldbesplitfifty-fifty,theyagreed.

OrsoGranthadthought.

The time to strike came when the senator was invited to a thousand-dollar-per-plate charity fund-

raiserforachildren’shospitalthatwouldkeephiminthecitylateintotheevening.Hodgesaskedhim
tomakethe“necessaryarrangements”andGrantsetaboutdoingexactlythat.Theywouldbestaying
at the Peninsula, where Hodges was a frequent visitor, and Grant knew the layout of the hotel well.
He’dbeengivenatourbyhotelsecurityearlierintheyearwhenthesenator ’sson,daughter-in-law,
andtwograndchildrenhadstayedtherethathadprettymuchtoldhimeverythingheneededtoknow,
includingthatwhichwasmostimportant:wherethehotelkepttheircameras.

Mandyrequestedroom1308,aroomshe’dstayedinbefore.Givenitslocation,itsuitedtheirneeds

perfectly.Itwasinacornerandrightacrossthehallfromastairwell,providingGrantalow-visibility
meanstosneakinandoutoftheroom.And,personally,hegotakickoutofthesinisterconnotations

that came with the number thirteen. Another man in his position might have felt guilty, planning to
screwhisbossoutofamilliondollars,especiallywhenthatbosshadbeenfairandrespectfultohim.
ButGrantwasnotthatman.

SenatorHodgeswasweak.Sure,Granthadvices,everyonedid,butthesenatorhadputhimselfina

positiontobepreyeduponbyothers,andthatmadehimafool.Plustheguyhadmoremoneythansin
andGrantdidn’tseeanythingwrongwithredistributingsomeofthatwealthinhisdirection.Given
whatheknewaboutthesenator ’sprivateaffairs,he’dearnedthatmoneyjustforkeepinghismouth
shut.

Whenthenightfinallyarrived,everythingstartedoutsmoothlyenough.AfterHodgesheadedtothe

hotelafterthefundraiserto—howthoughtful—callhiswifetosaygoodnight,Grantdrovehiscar
intoadarkalleyafewblocksawayandquicklyshedthetrademarksuitandtiehealwaysworewhen
workingwiththesenator.Hethrewonanondescriptblackblazer,hoodedT-shirt,andjeans,anoutfit
thatwouldmakehimlessidentifiableontheoffchanceanyonespottedhimaroundroom1308.Afew
minuteslater,heparkedthecarandenteredthehotelthroughitsbackentrance,locatedthestairwell
that would lead him to Mandy’s room, and hurried up the thirteen flights of stairs. Having timed
things nearly to the minute, Mandy had just arrived herself and was waiting in the room. She had a
smallvideocamerashehadpurchased,perhisinstructions,fromaspyshoponWellsStreet.

Grant set up the camera, gave Mandy a thirty-second tutorial, and hid it behind the television that

wasconvenientlylocatedinfrontoftheking-sizedbed.

“What’swiththegloves?”Mandyasked,takinginhisblackleather-cladhandswhileheworked.

Inhindsight,Grantprobablyshould’vegiventheanswertothisquestionalittlemoreconsideration,

asitwasthefirstsignoftrouble.

“Just being careful,” he’d said matter-of-factly while opening the armoire doors another quarter

inchandcheckingtomakesurethecamerawasn’tvisible.

“Justbeingcarefulhow?”Mandyasked.

WhenGrantturnedaround,hesawshehadherarmsfoldedacrossherchest.

Hereyesnarrowedsuspiciously.“Youmean,justbeingcareful,asin,ifHodgesdoesn’tgoforthis,

and he turns me in to the cops, there’s no proof you were ever involved? Is that the kind of being
carefulyou’retalkingabout?”

She might not have been the prettiest call girl Grant had ever seen, but she wasn’t the dumbest,

either.Unfortunately,hedidn’thavealotoftimetofinessethesituation.

“We’reblackmailingaUnitedStatessenator,Mandy.Yes,I’mbeingcareful.Andsoshouldyou.But

it’snotexactlygoingtobeasecrettoHodgesthatyou’reinvolvedinthis.You’retheonescrewing
him,remember?Nottomention,theonewho’smakingthedealwithhimforthemoney.”

“Funny how, when you say it like that, it sounds like I’m the one who’s doing all the work,” she

said.“Nottomention”—shemimickedhim—“theonetakingalltherisks.”

Fuckingwomen.Heshould’veknownshe’dstartbitchingaboutsomethinglastminute.

Grant took her by the shoulders, tempted to give her a good shake. “This was your plan, Mandy.

Andit’sagoodone.Justkeepcool,andlet’sdothis.”

IttookamomentbeforeMandynodded.“You’reright.”Sheexhaled.“I’msorry,Grant.IthinkI’m

gettingnervousaboutallthis.”

“Don’tbenervous,”hetoldher.“AllyouneedtodoisturnthecameraonwhenyouhearHodges

knock—make sure you put the armoire doors back in the exact spot they’re in now, then turn the
cameraoffwhenheleaves.Therestofitisnodifferentthananyotherjob.I’llbewatchinginmycar
fromthestreetbelow.TurnthelampbythewindowonandoffthreetimessoI’llknowwhenyou’re
done.I’llcomeup,checkthetapetomakesureeverything’sokay,andthenyou’llleavejustlikeyou
wouldanyothernight.”

“Thanks,boss.Anythingelse?”sheaskedsarcastically.

“Yes.Makeitlookgood.”

Anddidsheever.

Asplanned,Grantre-enteredthehotelassoonashesawthesignalinthewindowandhurriedback

up to her room. When Mandy let him in, he pulled the camera out from behind the television and
checkedthetape.Hestartedatthebeginning,thenplayedthetapebackonfast-forward.Hestopped
intermittentlytowatch,beingsuretokeepthevolumedown.Soon,SenatorHodgeswouldverylikely
cometoregrethiseverhavingmetMs.MandyRobards,butforthatnightatleast,hewasquitevocal
inexpressinghispleasurewiththeiracquaintance.

“Seeanythingyoulike?”Mandydrawledasshereclinedonthebedinoneofthehotelbathrobes.

“Just making sure the tape’s clean all the way through,” Grant told her. The beauty in blackmail

videographywasinthedetails.Thosedoggie-stylespankswereprobablyworthfivehundredgrand
alone.

Grantcontinuedtowatchthereplayonfast-forward,thesenatorpumping,Mandybouncing,andthe

bedalla-shakingatcomicalspeeds,untilhegottotheend.HeslowedtowatchapprovinglyasMandy
very cleverly maneuvered herself and Hodges in front of the camera as he paid her in cash before
leaving.ThelastshotonthetapewasMandyturningoffthecamera.

Whenitwasfinished,GrantpulledoutthetapeandhandeditovertoMandy.Asthey’dagreed,she

wouldmakeacopybeforeshowingittoHodges.“Nicework,”hesaid.

Mandysmiledassheslidoffthebed.“Thanks.”Shegrabbedherpurseoffthedeskandputthetape

inside.Sheleanedagainstthedesk,takinghimin.

“SorryIwasabitchearlier.”Shenoddedathishands.“Thegloves,theythrewmeoffforasecond.

Butyouwereright,thisisseriousbusinessandweneedtobecareful.Iunderstandwhyyouneedto
takeyourprecautionarymeasures,andIknowyou’regoingtounderstandwhyIneedtotakemine.”

TherewasasuddengleaminhereyesthatGrantdidn’ttrust.“Understandwhat,exactly?”

Inanswer,MandyreachedintooneofthedeeppocketsofherbathrobeandinstinctivelyGrantwent

forthegunintheshoulderharnesshealwayswore.Butshebeathimtothepunchasshepulledher
handoutoftherobeandGrantsawtheflashofsilver—

Ofasmalltaperecorder.

Heletoutadeepbreathinfrustratedrelief.“JesusChrist,Mandy.Whatthehellisthat?”

“I told you—my precautionary measures.” She hit play on the tape recorder, keeping the volume

low,buthighenoughsoGrantcouldhearwellandclear.

“I’msorry,Grant.IthinkI’mgettingnervousaboutallthis.”

“Don’tbenervous.AllyouneedtodoisturnthecameraonwhenyouhearHodgesknock—make

sureyouputthearmoiredoorsbackintheexactspotthey’reinnow,thenturnthecameraoffwhenhe
leaves. The rest of it is no different than any other job. I’ll be watching in my car from the street
below.TurnthelampbythewindowonandoffthreetimessoI’llknowwhenyou’redone.I’llcome
up,checkthetapetomakesureeverything’sokay,andthenyou’llleavejustlikeyouwouldanyother
night.”

“Thanks,boss.Anythingelse?”

“Yes.Makeitlookgood.”

Mandyshutoffthetapewithasmuggrin.“ThatspyshoponWellsStreetyousentmetowasquitea

find.”Shehelduptherecorder.“It’samazinghowsmalltheycanmakethesethingsnowadays.The
wholetimeyouwerehereearlier,younevernoticedIhaditinmypocket.”

“I’ll have to remember to frisk you next time,” Grant said sarcastically. “What’s with the tape,

Mandy?”

“Iwanttorenegotiatethetermsofourarrangement.”

“Youthinkyoushouldgetmorethanhalf?”

“IthinkIshouldgetitall.”

“WhythehellwouldIeveragreetothat?”

“Becauseifyoudon’t,I’mgoingtoHodgeswiththistapeandtellinghimthiswholethingwasyour

idea,”shesaid.

“Asifhe’deverbelievethat.”

“Menbelievealotofthingstheyshouldn’twhenthey’rethinkingwiththeirdicks.”Mandygavethe

tapealittleshakeforhisbenefit.“Besides,hedoesn’thavetobelieveme.Ihaveitallrighthere.Ilove
howthislittleclipmakesitsoundlikeit’syouridea—likeyouhadtotalkmeintothewholescheme.
Andthat,ofcourse,willbeexactlywhatItellHodges.Andthepolice.”

Grant knew he should’ve been nervous. Panicking, even. But instead, he felt a cold blue flame of

angerbeginningtoburninsidehim.Andhefeltstrangelycalm.

“I’mnotgivingupmyhalf,”hesaid.

Mandylaughedscornfully.“Half.Asifyouevendeserveone-tenthofthismoney.Isetthisup.Idid

allthework.TheonlythingI’veeverneededyouforistomakesureHodgesdoesn’tgotothecops.
And that you will still do, unless you want to do twenty years in jail for blackmailing a federal
official. Because if I go down in this, trust me—you will, too.” She flashed him a smile. “Sorry,
Grant.Butlikewesaid,thisisaone-shotdeal.Ihavetomakethemostofit.”

Shewassoproudofherselfrightthen.Sosmugandconfident.

Tooconfident.

AsGrantstoodthere,pointinghisgunather,hehadonethoughtonhismind.

Hewouldnotbeout-smartedbyafuckingwhore.

Mandy slipped the tape recorder back inside the pocket of her robe and eyed his hands

unconcernedly.“Youcanputthegunaway,Grant.Webothknowyou’renotgoingtoshootme.”She
turnedherbackonhimandbeganheadingtowardthebathroom.

Grantreachedunderhisblazerandtuckedthegunbackinsidehisshoulderharness.“You’reright.

I’mnotgoingtoshootyou.”Withoutwarning,helungedforher—pleasedsheneversawitcoming—
andgrabbedherbythethroatandthrewherontothebed.Shehititwithenoughforcetobangthebed
loudly against the wall. Before she could scream, Grant was on top of her, and the bed slammed
againstthewallasecondtimeashepinnedher.Heslappedhishandoverhermouth.

“Youdon’tknowwhoyou’remessingwith.Youneedtounderstandwho’sincontrolhere,bitch,”

hehissed.

Mandy’s eyes widened—his sudden burst of rage finally put some fear and respect into her—and

shebegantofightback.Grantgrabbedoneofthepillowsnexttoherheadandbroughtitdownover
herface.Herarmsflailed,herhandsclawedforhisface,andshekickedoutwithherlegs,tryingto
buck him off. Probably not the way she was used to being ridden in bed, Grant thought, using his
elbowsandchesttoholdthepillowdownwhilehegrabbedforherwristsandpinnedthemunderhis
knees.

Shefoughtreallyhardatthat.

Grantletitgoonforanicelongmoment,findingherpanicandthepowerheheldoverhertobe

strangelythrilling.Intoxicating.Hewasabouttopullthepillowaway,readytoseethesubmissionin
her eyes, when it hit him that she was such a dumb-ass scheming bitch that she would never really
submit,andheknewthenthathenevershould’vetrustedherinthefirstplaceandinthatmoment,he
hated himself for being so naive. He knew that, no matter what she might say, no matter what she
might promise right then, he’d never be able to believe anything that came out of her lying mouth.
Foralltheirplotting,hewasn’tgoingtogetafuckingdimebecauseofher,andworse,nowshehad
him.Sure,hecouldtakethetapeawayfromher,buthecouldnever,evertrusthertokeephermouth
shut,she’dalwayshavethisthingshecouldholdoverhim,thathe’dplannedtoblackmailthesenator.
Andevenifhecouldconvincehertowalkaway,he’dalwaysbewonderingwhenthedaywouldcome
whenshe’dbeback,wantingsomething.

Heknewthisforcertain:hedidnotwanttospendtherestofhislifelookingoverhisshoulder.He

didn’twanthertohavethatkindofpoweroverhim.Theyweresupposedtobepartners,butnowit
seemedtobeeverymanandwomanforhimorherself.Andhedidn’tseeanyotheroption.

Sohekeptthepillowrightwhereitwas.

It took longer than he expected. Her struggles grew weaker, feeble, but still she persisted, and it

wasn’tuntilagoodtwominutesorsohadgonebywithoutanymovementthatGrantdaredtoliftthe
pillowwithhisglovedhands.

Hereyeswereopenandempty.Staringdownatherlifelessbody,Grant’sfirstthoughtwasthathe

was surprised he didn’t feel more. No remorse, just . . . nothing. Though he’d been in the Marines,
he’dneveractuallykilledanyoneandhe’dalwaysassumeditwouldbekindofabigdeal.

Hmm.Apparentlynot.

Grantsatupandsmoothedbackalockofhairthathadfallenintohiseyes.HeclimbedoffMandy’s

body,thinkinghe’dbettergetoutofthathotelroom.Fast.Hismindraced,theadrenalinekickedin,
andittookhimasecondortwotoclearhisthoughts.Heneededaplanandwasimpressedbyhow
quicklyonecametohim.

Thesenator.

Hodges’sfingerprintswereallovertheroom.Theescortservicewouldhavearecordthathewas

the one who’d been with Mandy that night. And if he left behind the videotape of the senator and
Mandyhavingsex,thatwouldgivetheauthoritiesenoughofapotentialmotive.Acrimeofpassion,
they’d guess. She’d tried to blackmail the senator and when he found out, he’d panicked and killed
her.

It would be enough, Grant told himself. It had to be. It wasn’t like he had a lot of options. There

wereonlysomanyscenariosonecouldexplorewhenunexpectedlyfindingoneselfinahotelroom
withadeadhooker.PlanA:getthefuckout.BonusplanB:pinitonsomeoneelse.

GrantreachedintothepocketofMandy’srobeandfoundthetaperecorder.Heslippeditintothe

backpocketofhisjeans,makingsureitwashiddenbyhisblazer.Heputthevideotapeandrecorder
backbehindthetelevision,thenhurriedtothedoor.HeflippedupthehoodonhisT-shirt.

Afterall,oneneverknewwhomightbewatching.

ANDNOWHEneededtofinishwhathe’dstarted.

Grantsethisemptybeerbottleofftothesideandtookouthiswallettoaddafewbuckstothecash

Driscollhadthrowndownearlier.Asheleftthebarandsteppedoutside,heflippedupthecollarof
hiscoattoguardagainstthecrispfallwindthatcamerollinginoffthelake.AnLtrainroaredbyon
unseentrackssomewhereintheneardistance.

GrantthoughtbacktoDriscoll’sorders.

FindoutwhattheFBIknows.

Hehadeveryintentionofdoingjustthat.

Itwasn’tgoingtobeeasygettingtheinformation,heknew,buthismindwasalreadyworking.Jack

Pallascouldpotentiallybeaproblem—ifthestoriesgoingaroundabouthimwereevenpartiallytrue
—butPallashadmadeenemieswithsomepeoplethatnooneshouldmakeenemieswith,andGrant
hadafeelinghecouldusethattohisadvantage.

The FBI obviously had something. Although not enough to point them in his direction—yet—he

didn’tlikehavinganylooseendslyingaround.Andassoonashefoundoutwhatthelooseendwas,
heplannedtotakecareofit.Fornearlyfifteenyearshe’dbeencoveringupotherpeople’ssecretsand
lies.Hewouldhandlethiswiththesameobjectiveprecision.Nomorebeingplayedthefool.Nomore
mistakes.Fromnowon,hewasincontrol.

Andhewoulddowhateverittooktokeepitthatway.

Nine

BY WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, as Cameron headed off to court for a preliminary hearing, she
couldalmostconvinceherselfthatherlifewasgettingbacktonormal.Almost.

Fortunately,thepolicesurveillancehadturnedouttobelessintrusivethanshe’dfeared.Shebarely

sawtheofficersassignedtothedayshift—theystarteddutyoutsideherhouseat6:00A.M.whileshe
wassleeping,noddedtoherasshepulledhercaroutofthealleyonherwaytowork,followedher
downtowntoheroffice,thenhadvirtuallynothingtodountiltheycededallresponsibilitytothenight
shiftat6:00P.M.She’dhadseveralcourtappearancesthatweek,butbecausethecourtroomsforboth
the Northern District of Illinois and the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals were located in the same
buildingastheU.S.attorney’soffices,there’dbeennoneedfortheofficerstoaccompanyher.Nota
badgigforthem,Cameronsupposed,tobeassignedtoprotectsomeonewhoworkedinoneofthe
mostsecure,heavilyguardedbuildingsinthecity.Maybetomorrowshe’dgetcrazyandmakearun
toStarbucksjustsotheycouldseealittleaction.

Theguysonthenightshiftwereadifferentstory.They’dtakenthetimetointroducethemselvesthe

firstnightoftheirsurveillance,andCameronfoundherselfwarmingquicklytoOfficersKaminand
Phelpsdespitetheoddityofthesituation.They’destablishedsomethingofaroutineoverthecourse
ofthelastthreenights:theyfollowedherhomefromwork,checkedinsideherhousetomakesureall
was secure, waited outside in their unmarked car while she changed into her workout clothes, then
walkedherbackandforththethreeblockstothegym.Sure,itwasalittlestrange,lookingupfrom
thetreadmillandseeingtwopoliceofficerswatchingherfromthejuicebar,butthensherecalledthat
thealternativewasgettingherselfmurdered,andthatprettymuchgotherpasttheawkwardnessofthe
situation.

Countless times in her head she had replayed that moment when she saw the killer through the

peepholeasheleftroom1308.Andthemoreshethoughtaboutit,themoreshewasconvincedthere
wasnowayhecouldpossiblyknowshehadbeenwatching.Hedidn’tlookonceinthedirectionofthe
door,andnothingabouthisactionssuggestedhesuspectedshewasthere.

That being said, this certainly wasn’t a point on which she had any desire to be proven wrong.

Generallyspeaking,whenitcametoanypossibleconnectionbetweenherandakillerwhosmothered
women with pillows, she firmly believed that an overabundance of caution was best. And until they
caughttheguy,shewasmorethanhappytohavetheFBIandCPDwatchingoutforher.

Asexpected,thepreliminaryhearingCameronhadscheduledthatafternoonwentsmoothly.Itwas

her first court appearance since her trial victory the prior week. It felt good to be back in court,
although not necessarily for this particular case. The defendant was a cop from the Cook County
Sheriff’s Office who had been charged with “freelancing” his security services in twelve purported
drugtransactionsstagedbytheFBI.

ItgaveCameronabsolutelynopleasuretohavetoprosecuteapoliceofficer.Yetshe’dinsistedon

taking the case nevertheless—if there was anything that offended her more than a regular criminal
thug, it was a criminal thug who wore a uniform. The defendant was a dishonor to her father ’s
profession, and because of that Cameron had absolutely no sympathy for him. The case certainly
wasn’tgoingtomakeherpopularwiththeSheriff’sOffice,butshewouldhavetolivewiththat.Ifshe
tookcasesjusttobepopular,well,thenshe’dbenobetterthanSilas.

“Anyredirect,Counselor?”

Cameronstooduptoaddressthejudge.“Yes,yourhonor—justafewquestions.”Shewalkedover

tothewitnessstandwhereAgentTraskwaited.Hewasherfinalwitnessthatafternoonandshesensed
thejudgewaseagertowrapthingsupfortheday.

“AgentTrask,duringcross-examination,thedefendant’sattorneyaskedyouseveralquestionsabout

the arrangement you had with the defendant while you were working undercover. In your
conversationswiththedefendant,didyouhavespecificdiscussionsthathewouldbeprovidingyou
withsecurityfordrugdeals?”

The FBI agent nodded. “Our arrangement was crystal clear. I paid the defendant five thousand

dollars.Inexchange,heagreedtoserveasalookoutandtobereadytointerveneintheeventother
policeofficersattemptedtointerferewiththedrugtransfer.”

“Is there any possibility the defendant was not aware that you were purportedly transferring

narcotics?”Cameronasked.

Agent Trask shook his head. “None. Before each transaction, I confirmed that the defendant was

carrying his firearm, then I would discuss with him the specific amount of cocaine or heroin
involved. My partner would then arrive at the scene pretending to be the buyer, and the defendant
wouldassistmeincarryingtheduffelbagsofnarcoticstothecar.Onetime,heevenjokedwithme
andmypartnerthatwewerestupidtobedoingtheexchangesinfastfoodparkinglotsinthemiddle
of the night—he said that would be the first place he and his fellow police officers would look for
trouble. He informed us that if we wanted to deal drugs, the better location to do that was the train
station.”

Thedefenseattorneyrosefromhischair.“Objection,hearsay.Movetostrike.”

Cameronturnedtothejudge.“It’sapreliminaryhearing,yourhonor.”

“Overruled.”

Cameronwrappedupherredirectandtookherseatattheprosecutor ’stable.Becauseherofficewas

swampedandunderstaffed,andbecauseitwasapreliminaryhearingforwhatsheconsideredtobea
virtuallyopen-and-shutcase,shesatalone.

Thejudgeglancedoveratthedefenseattorney.“Anyrecross?”

“No,yourhonor.”

Agent Trask stepped down from the witness stand. Then, as he passed by Cameron’s table, the

strangestthinghappened.

Hegaveherapolitenod.

Cameron blinked twice, not sure she’d seen that correctly. Maybe he had some sort of tic she’d

never noticed. Because for the last three years, the Chicago FBI agents she’d worked with hadn’t
givenherthetimeofdayoncetheysteppedoffthewitnessstand,letalonethecourtesyofaheadbob.
ApparentlynowthatJackwasback,they’ddecidedto“forgive”hersupposedcrimes.

“Counselor?”thejudgeaskedher.

Shestood.“Ihavenofurtherwitnesses,yourhonor.”

Thejudgeissuedhisruling.“InlightofthetestimonyI’veheardtoday,alongwiththedetailedFBI

affidavit the government submitted with its complaint, I find there is probable cause to bind this

matteroverfortrial.TrialissetforDecemberfifteenthattenA.M.”

Theywrappedupthefewremaininghousekeepingitems,theneveryoneroseasthejudgeexitedthe

courtroom.Thedefenseattorneywhisperedsomethingtothedefendantbeforemakinghiswayover
toCameron’stable.

“We’dliketotalkaboutapleabargain,”theattorneysaid.

Cameronwasnotsurprised,butalsonotinterested.“Sorry,Dan.It’snotgoingtohappen.”

“TherewereseveralotherCookCountySheriff’sofficersdoingtheexactsamething.Myclientcan

giveyounames.”

“I’vealreadygotnamesfromAlvarez,”shesaid,referringtoanothermantheFBIhadarrested,a

civilian,whohadprovidedadditionalbackup“security”forseveralofthefakedrugdeals.

“ButAlvarezwasn’tatthemeetingonJunefourth,”Danargued.

Cameron packed up her briefcase. “If I cared that much about the meeting on June fourth, I

would’vecometoyouwiththedealinsteadofAlvarez’slawyers.”

Danloweredhisvoice.“Comeon,Cameron—givemesomethingIcantellmyclient.Anything.”

“Okay.TellhimIdon’tmakedealswithdirtycops.”

Dancalledherabitchandwalkedoff,takinghisclientwithhim.

Cameronshruggedandwatchedhimleave.

Ah...itwasgreatbeingbackincourt.

WHEN SHE GOT back to her office later that afternoon, Cameron spent a couple hours returning
phonecallsandkiddingherselfthatshe’dsomehowsqueezeinthetimetoworkonanappellatebrief
shehadduethefollowingweek.Atsixthirty,shegaveinandwrappedthingsup.Neverenoughhours
intheday,particularlynotthisone.

AfterclearingitwithOfficersPhelpsandKamin,shewassetthatnightforherdatewithMax-the-

investment-banker-I-met-on-the-Bloomingdale’s-escalator. They’d seemed to get a kick out of the
story—a few weeks ago she’d been doing some shoe shopping on her lunch break and was on her
way back to the office, on the down escalator, when her phone vibrated, indicating she had a new
message. She saw it was a notification from the court on a ruling she’d been waiting for, so she’d
gotten off at the landing to read the decision. When she’d finished, she forgot where she was and
stepped right into the path of a man getting off the escalator. They’d collided, and her purse and
shoppingbagwentflying.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry,” Cameron said as she stumbled, then righted herself. “I wasn’t

looking.”

Shecaughtsightofthetalldrinkofwaterstandingbeforeher.Notjusttall,butalsoblond,bronzed,

andgorgeous.Shewaslookingnow,allright.

Shesmileddemurely.“Oh.Hello.”

Hespoke.“Ithinkyoudroppedsomethings.”

He bent down to scoop up her purse and shopping bag and Cameron practically felt the breeze

comingoffhereyelashesastheyfluttered.Suchagentleman.Andhelookedgreatinhisnavysuit—
anexpensiveone,judgingfromthecut.

Theshoeboxhadspilledopenandoneofhernewfour-inchsilverstrappyMiuMiuheelspeeked

out.

“Niceshoes,”thebronzedgodsaidapprovingly,handingoverthebagandherpurse.Heraisedan

eyebrow.“Foraspecialoccasion?”

“My best friend’s wedding,” Cameron said. “I’m the maid of honor. She said we could wear any

silvershoeswewant,butnowI’mnotsosure.Ihopesheapproves.”

Thebronzedgodgrinned.“Well,Idon’tknowaboutthebride,butIthinkyourdatewilldefinitely

approveofthem.”

“Mydate,right...I’mstillworkingonthatpart,”Cameronsaid.

Thebronzedgodstuckouthishand.“Inthatcase,myname’sMax.”

Fiveminuteslater,hewalkedawaywithhercellphonenumber.

“And what would his name have been if you’d already had a date to the wedding?” Collin teased

whenshecalledhimlaterthatevening.

ShehungupandcalledAmy.

“Four-inch heels? Are you sure you’re going to be able to walk down the aisle in those?” she

wantedtoknow.

“Youguysaremissingthepointofthisstory,”Camerontoldher.

“Areyoubringinghimtothewedding?”

“Youknow,intheallofsixminuteswespoke,Isomehowforgottoask.”

“Right, of course.” There was a pause on Amy’s end of the line. “But hypothetically speaking, in

caseyoudobringhimtothewedding,doyouthinkhelookedlikeasteakorasalmonkindofguy?
BecauseI’mkindofsupposedtogivethecatereracountbyFriday.”

As if Cameron already hadn’t been feeling enough pressure to find a date, now her single-hood

threatened to throw the finely tuned inner workings of The Most Perfect Wedding Ever into utter
chaos.

“CanIgetbacktoyouonthat,Ame?”she’dasked.

But nearly three weeks later, she still hadn’t given Amy an answer. And not just on the steak vs.

salmon issue. Despite the fact that they’d been on a few dates, she hadn’t even made a decision on
whethershewantedtoaskMaxtogowithhertothewedding.IfithadbeeninChicagoitwouldbea
no-brainer.Butshewasonthefenceaboutwhethershewantedtospendtheentireweekendwithhim
in Michigan, sharing a hotel room. Sure, he would look oh-so-fine on her arm at the wedding—a
factornottobeentirelydiscounted—butpersonality-wise,hewasturningouttobenotwhatshehad
expectedfromtheirinitialmeeting.

Atfirstshe’dthoughtMaxhadgottenherphonenumbersoquicklybecausehewasconfident.Now

she realized he moved that fast because he had to. The man was a workaholic—he ate, slept, and

breathed his job. Cameron understood being committed to one’s career—she’d put herself in that
same category—but in the three weeks they’d been seeing each other, Max had already needed to
rescheduletwooftheirdates.He’dapologized,butstill,itwasawarningsign.

Sotonightshewoulddecide.Shewasasinglewomaninherthirties,shedidn’thavetimetoplay

aroundwiththesethings.Maxwaseitherinorout.

Callingitaday,Cameronpowereddownhercomputerandpackedupherbriefcase.Shehadjust

gathered her coat and was on her way out when her phone rang. She saw it was Silas calling and
momentarilythoughtaboutnotanswering.Butseeinghowhehadthecornerofficedownthehall,he
undoubtedlyknewshewasin.

Cameron grabbed the phone. “Hi, Silas—another minute and you would’ve missed me. I was just

headingout.”

“Great.Stopbyonyourway.”Hehungup.

Cameronlookedatthereceiver.SheandSilasalwaysdidhavethenicestchats.

Someofthatcouldbeherfault,shesupposed.She’dnevergottenpastthefactthatSilassoldherout

ontheMartinocase.Andfromwhatshe’dseenwiththeotherassistantU.S.attorneys,thatwasn’tthe
firsttimehe’dpulledastuntlikethat,orthelast.Overthelastthreeyears,she’dwatchedseveraltimes
asSilaslethisassistantprosecutorstaketheheatforanycriticismdirectedattheirofficebutstolethe
limelightfromthemwhenevertherewasasignificantvictory.

Many of the other AUSAs accepted this as part of office politics, and to some extent, Cameron

understoodwhy.Severalofhercoworkers,likeher,hadbeenassociatesatlargelawfirmspriorto
comingtotheU.S.attorney’sofficeandunderstoodthatthiswassimplyhowthingsoftenworked:the
lawyersatthetopofthefoodchaingotalltheglory,whilethegruntsatthebottomdidallthework,
waitingforthedaywhentheywouldrisetothetopandinevitablydotheverysamethingtothegrunts
workingforthem.Thelawyercircleoflife.

Additionally,therewasn’tmuchtheycoulddoaboutSilas,anyway.Aligninghimselfwithpowerful

peoplewasthethingSilasdidbest(sincehecertainlydidn’ttrycasesanymore);itwashowhe’drisen
tohispositioninthefirstplace.AndbecauseU.S.attorneyswereappointedbythepresidenthimself,
barring some unforeseen circumstance, Cameron and everyone else in the Northern District of
IllinoiswasstuckwithSilasataminimumuntilthenextelection.

Thatwasn’ttosaythatCameronsimplytookallhiscrap—farfromit.Alothadchangedintheir

relationship over the last three years. She wasn’t a junior prosecutor anymore; in fact, she had the
highest caseload in her office and managed nearly seventy-five cases at any given time, some
charged, some in the investigation stage. She also had the best trial record among the nearly 130
prosecutorsinthecriminaldivisionoftheNorthernDistrictofIllinois—afactthatmadeherpretty
darnindispensableandgaveheralotmoreleverage.Becauseofthat,asortofunspokenagreement
existedbetweenherandSilas:aslongashercourtroomvictoriescontinuedtoreflectwelluponand
bring praise to his office, he basically stayed out of her way. In this, they’d developed at least a
tolerableworkrelationship.

Butitwasatrickyrelationship,nodoubt.Silasdemandedloyalty—oratleasttheappearanceofit—

fromhisassistantU.S.attorneys,andCameroncontinuallyfeltasthoughshehadtokeepherguardup
aroundhim.Althoughshe’dtakenthefallfortheMartinocase,Silasknewshehadn’tlikeditandhad
watchedhercloselyeversince.

Whichwaswhyshecouldneverlethimfindouthowshe’dsteppedintohelpJackthreeyearsago.

Silas had raised holy hell with the Department of Justice, demanding that Jack be fired for

inappropriate conduct because of his comments. Cameron suspected this had less to do with Silas
beingoffendedonherbehalf,andmoretodowithkeepingeveryone’sfocusonsomethingotherthan
therealissue:hisdecisiontonotfilechargesagainstRobertoMartino.

What Silas hadn’t known was that Cameron had a contact at the DOJ—an old friend from law

school—andthatshehadworkedbehindthescenes,tryingtogethimtoagreetotransferJackinstead
ofanoutrightdismissal.Tohelpstrengthenhercase,she’dgonetoDavis’sofficeearlyonemorning
a few days after Jack’s comments. It was a risk, she’d known, but she’d also known that Davis had
beenfightingforJackandherinstinctshadtoldhershecouldtrusthim.Sheexplainedthesituation,
thatSilaswasanglingforJack’sdismissal,andpassedalongthenameofhercontactattheDOJ.Two
people working behind the scenes were better than one, she’d told Davis, then asked that he never
discusswithanyonethepurposeofhervisit.

“Whyareyoudoingthis?”Davishadaskedashewalkedhertohisofficedoor.“AfterwhatJack

saidaboutyou,Iwould’vethoughtyou’dbehappytoseehimdismissed.”

Cameronhadaskedherselfthisveryquestion.Theanswer,simply,camedowntoherprinciples.No

matter how angry she was with Jack for his comments, when it came to her job, she put personal
differencesaside.Eveninthiscase.

She’d read the files. Silas hadn’t read them, and the higher-ups in the DOJ hadn’t, either, but she

doubted anyone could know the things she knew about those two days Jack spent in the hands of
Martino’smenandnothavecomplete,utterrespectforhisdedicationtohisjob.Hemayhavehada
lotofroomforimprovementinthepersonalitydepartment,buthewasanincredibleFBIagent.

“DoyouwanttoseeJackgetfired?”she’daskedDavisinresponsetohisquestion.

“Ofcoursenot.He’sprobablythebestdamnagentintheBureau.”

“Iagree.”Withthatbeingsaid,Cameronhadopenedthedoorandwalkedoutofhisoffice—

AndspottedJackstandingacrossthehall,staringather.

She’d had a moment of panic—no one was supposed to know she was there. But she kept her

expressionflatandemotionless,andwalkedoutwithoutaword.

SheknewwhatJackthought,theassumptionshe’dmadethatday.Hethoughtshe’dbeentheoneto

gethimtransferred—probablyassumedthatshe’dgonetoDavisthatmorningtocomplainabouthim.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much she could do about that. She’d gone over Silas’s head to defend
Jack,andinhisbookthatwasamajorbreachofloyalty.ShehadnodoubtthatSilaswouldfireheron
thespotifheeverfoundout.Soshe’dbittenthebulletandletJackgoonbelievingtheworstabout
her.

After all, he’d already despised her because of the Martino case. Adding another log to the fire

wasn’tgoingtomakemuchdifference.

WHENCAMERONGOTtoSilas’sofficesheknockedonthedoor.Hegesturedforhertocomein.

“Cameron—haveaseat.”

Shesteppedintotheoffice—alargeone,bygovernmentstandards,andrichlydecorated,too—and

took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Silas’s desk. “Sorry that I’m going to have to keep this
short.IhavetobesomewhereinlessthananhourandIneedtostopathomefirst.”

“Iwon’tkeepyoulong,”Silassaid.“Ijustwantedtomakesureyou’redoingokay.Youknow,with

everything you went through last weekend.” Although his words were polite, there was a hint of
annoyanceinhiseyes.Perhapsanger,even.

Cameronansweredcautiously,unsurehowmuchheknew.“I’mdoingfine.Thanksforasking.”

“Youcanknockoffthevagueroutine,Cameron—IknowallabouttheRobardsinvestigation.The

FBI director called me from D.C. this afternoon to say how much he appreciated our office’s
cooperationinthematter.OfcourseIhadnoideawhathewastalkingabout.Iguesshejustassumed
thatIwouldbeintheloopwhenoneofmyAUSAsisaneyewitnesstoacrimethatinvolvesaU.S.
senatorandisplacedunderprotectivesurveillance.IguessIwould’veassumedthat,too.”

Since the cat was out of the bag, Cameron tried to smooth things over. She could imagine how

muchSilashaddislikedbeingcaughtunawarewiththeheadoftheFBI.“I’msorryifyouwerecaught
inanawkwardpositionwithGodfrey,”shesaid.“TheFBIagentsinchargeoftheinvestigationsaidI
wasn’tsupposedtodiscussthespecificsofwhathappenedwithanyone.”

“Iunderstandit’saconfidentialmatter,butIneedtobeawarewhenthreatshavebeenmadeagainst

oneofmyattorneys.”

“And if I receive any actual threats, I’ll let you know. But so far this is just a precautionary

measure.” Cameron couldn’t tell if he was appeased or not. She thought it might be best to distract
him, get him off topic. “I don’t know if the director mentioned this, but Jack Pallas is running the
case.”

Silas’seyeswidenedwithsurprise.“Pallasisback?Whendidthathappen?”

Cameronshrugged.“Ithinkjustrecently.”

Thepoint,inhermindanyway,wasthathewasbackand—atleasttemporarily—tangledupinher

lifeonceagain.

“SOWHATAREyouthinking?”

Jack rubbed his hand over his face and looked across his desk at Wilkins. “I’m thinking that if I

neverseeanotherlawyeragainfortherestofmylife,it’llbetoosoon.”

Asexpected,thefootagefromthehotel’svideocamerashadn’tproducedanyleads,andthey’dnow

turned their attention to questioning Senator Hodges and his staff. Of course, his team of attorneys
hadmadethingsasdifficultaspossible.Butatleastthey’dlearnedafewthings:severalmembersof
Hodges’s team had admitted knowing about his various affairs with call girls, and a handful even
acknowledgedknowingaboutMandyRobardsspecifically.

ThefirsttwopeopletheyhadinterviewedwereAlexDriscoll,thesenator ’schiefofstaff,andGrant

Lombard,hispersonalsecurityguard.Whenquestioned,bothDriscollandLombardclaimedtohave
beenathomesleepingatthetimeofMandyRobards’smurder.Forbothmen,thereappearedtobeno
evidence to either contradict or confirm this. They both acknowledged that they were aware of
Hodges’saffairwithMandyRobards;infactbothadmittedknowingthatHodgesplannedtoseeher

thenightofhermurder.Lombardhadmadethearrangementswiththeescortagency(whichHodges
admittedwassomethingheaskedLombardtodo“fromtimetotime”),andDriscollhadattendedthe
charity dinner with the senator and claimed to have learned then of Hodges’s plans to see Robards
laterintheevening.

NeitherLombardnorDriscollhadbeenparticularlyforthcomingaboutHodges’saffairs,butasthe

senator ’sbodyguardandchiefofstaff,theyweren’texpectedtobe.Andthoughneitherhadanalibi,
seeing how both men claimed to be home at the time of the murder, sleeping alone (Driscoll was
divorced and Lombard had never married), this again was not unusual. However, both did fit the
roughphysicaldescriptionCameronhadgivenofthemanshehadseenleavingroom1308.

Itwasn’talot,Jackknew,butitwasenoughtolookintobothmenfurther.

“Let’s get Driscoll and Lombard’s phone records and cross reference them with the numbers we

haveforMandyRobards,”JacktoldWilkins.“Andweshouldpulltheircreditcardstatementsforthe
pasttwoyears—seeifanythingunusualturnsup.Inthemeantime,weneedtogetstartedonthatlist
Hodgesgaveusofpeoplehebelievesmighthaveagrudgeagainsthim.”

Wilkinsnoddedinagreementjustasthephonerang.Jacksawthecallwascomingfromthelobby

securitydesk.

“Pallas,”heanswered.

“OfficersKaminandPhelpsfromtheChicagoPoliceDepartmentareheretoseeyou.Theysaythey

havesomethingforyoufromaDetectiveSlonsky,”saidtheeveningsecurityguard.

“Thanks—sendthemup.”

Jack hung up the phone and looked at Wilkins. “Kamin and Phelps are on their way up.” He

frowned.“Aren’tthosetheguysSlonskyputonCameron’ssurveillance?”

Wilkinsglancedathiswatch.“They’retheeveningshift,Ithought.”

“Sowhataretheydoinghere?”

“You’ll have to ask them that.” Wilkins seemed to sense the dark cloud of displeasure that was

quicklymovingin.“Let’strytoplaynicehere,Jack—rememberthatwe’reworkingwiththeseguys.”

WhenKaminandPhelpsarrivedathisoffice,Wilkinsrosefromhischairandgreetedthemwitha

cordialsmile.“Hello,officers.Whatbringsyoubythisevening?”

The older cop introduced himself and his younger partner. “I’m Bob Kamin, this is my partner,

DannyPhelps.”Heheldoutalargesealedenvelope.“DetectiveSlonskyaskedustobringthistoyou.
Hesaysit’sthelabreportyou’vebeenwaitingfor.”

Jack got up from his desk and took the envelope from Kamin. “Thanks.” He caught Wilkins’s

sideways glance and shot him a look to let him know that everything was cool. “So . . . for some
reason we thought you were the guys assigned to Ms. Lynde’s surveillance. Guess we were
mistaken?”

“Nope,yougotitright,”Kaminsaid.“Wedothenightshift.Nicegirl.Wetalkalotonthewayto

thegym.”

“Oh.ThenIguessAgentWilkinsandIarejustcuriouswhyyoutwoarehereinsteadofwithher.”

Kaminwavedthisoff.“It’scool.Wedidaswitcheroowithanothercop,see?”

“Aswitcheroo...right.Remindmeagainhowthatworks?”Jackasked.

“It’sbecauseshe’sgotthisbigdatetonight,”Kaminexplained.

Jackcockedhishead.“Adate?”

Phelps chimed in. “Yeah, you know—with Max-the-investment-banker-she-met-on-the-

Bloomingdales-escalator.”

“Imust’vemissedthatone.”

“Oh, it’s a great story,” Kamin assured him. “She crashed into him coming off the escalator and

whenhershoppingbagspilledopen,hetoldherhelikedhershoes.”

“Ah...theMeetCute,”Wilkinssaidwithagrin.

Jackthrewhimasharplook.“Whatdidyoujustsay?”

“You know, the Meet Cute.” Wilkins explained. “In romantic comedies, that’s what they call the

momentwhenthemanandwomanfirstmeet.”Herubbedhischin,thinkingthisover.“Idon’tknow,
Jack...ifshe’shadherMeetCutewithanothermanthatdoesnotbodewellforyou.”

Jacknearlydidadoubletakeashetriedtofigureoutwhatthehellthatwassupposedtomean.

Phelpsshookhishead.“Nah,Iwouldn’tgothatfar.She’sstillonthefenceaboutthisguy.He’sgot

problemskeepinghisjobfromintrudingonhispersonallife.Butshe’sfeelingalotofpressurewith
Amy’swedding—she’sonlygotabouttendayslefttogetadate.”

“She’sthemaidofhonor,see?”Kaminsaid.

Jackstaredatallthreeofthem.Theirlipsweremovingandsoundwascomingout,butitwaslike

theywerespeakingadifferentlanguage.

KaminturnedtoPhelps.“Frankly,IthinksheshouldjustgowithCollin,sinceheandRichardbroke

up.”

“Yeah, but you heard what she said. She and Collin need to stop using each other as a crutch. It’s

startingtointerferewiththeirotherrelationships.”

Unbelievable.Jackranahandthroughhishair,temptedtotearitout.Butthenhe’dhaveabaldspot

to thank Cameron Lynde for, and that would piss him off even more. “Can we get back to the
switcheroopart?”

“Right,sorry.ItwasSlonsky’ssuggestion.TurnsoutherdatetonightisatSpiaggia.Youknowit?”

Phelpsasked.

Jacknodded.He’dneverbeen,butheknewofit.Afive-starrestaurant—oneofthetopinthecity—

itwaslocatedatthenorthernmostpointoftheMagnificentMileandknownforitsromanticviewsof
LakeMichigan.

“Well,Slonskyknowsacopwhodoessecuritythereintheevenings—sayshefiguredhe’dputthat

guyonMs.Lynde’sdetailwhileshe’sattherestaurant,sincehealreadyknowsthelayoutoftheplace
andeverything,”Kaminsaid.

Phelpsnudgedhim.“Tellhimabouttheotherpart.”

Kaminfoldedhisarmsacrosshischestinahuff.“Slonskyalsosaidthisguywillblendbetterthan

wewouldattherestaurant.Whateverthat’ssupposedtomean.”

Jack’seyesweredrawntothecuffsofKamin’sfaded-bluedenimshirt,bothofthemstainedwith

somesortofmysteryredsauce.He’dputhismarkeronachilidogasthelikelyculprit.

“So we dropped her off at the restaurant and made sure she got in okay, and we’ll go back when

she’sreadytoleave.She’sgonnacallus,”Phelpssaid.

Jackdidnotlikethesoundofthisplan—hewasn’texactlythrilledaboutSlonskysendinginsome

newguytowatchoverCameron.AlthoughafterspendingthreeminuteswithPhelpsandKamin,he
wasn’t sure he felt much better about them watching her, either. Still, he supposed he didn’t have
anything specific he could complain about—Slonsky was in charge of this side of the investigation
and they seemed to have thought things through—but the whole idea of this date just generally put
himinafoulmood.

Instead of saying anything that would give this away, however, he thanked Phelps and Kamin for

bringingbythelabreportandsentthemontheirmerryway.Beforetheystartedbabblingonagain
aboutCameronandMax-the-guy-he-couldn’t-give-a-crap-aboutandtheirMeetCuteorwhatever.So
hetoldherthathelikedhershoes—sowhat?ThewholethingsoundedmorelikeaMeetLametohim.

“I’mproudofyou,Jack,”WilkinssaidafterKaminandPhelpsleft.“Notasinglegloweringlook.”

“We’restillonthegloweringthing?”

BeforeWilkinscouldanswer,Jack’sphonerangagain.Hepickeditup.“Pallas.”

Ontheotherend,theoperatorwhoansweredtheoffice’smainphonenumberinformedhimthatshe

hadCollinMcCannonthelineforhim.

Jackfrowned.“Puthimthrough.”

“I’msorrytobotheryou,”Collinstartedrightinassoonastheconnectionwentthrough,“butit’s

aboutCameronandIdidn’tknowwhoelsetocall.Iknowthisthingshe’sinvolvedinisconfidential.”

“Issomethingwrong?”Jackasked.Hearingthis,Wilkinslookedover.

“It’sprobablynothing,”Collinsaid.“She’sonadatetonight.Maybeshe’sjust...preoccupied.”

Jackgrittedhisteeth.Ifonemorepersonmentionsthisdamndate...“But?”

“She’snotansweringhercellphone.I’vecalledherseveraltimesandIkeepgettinghervoicemail.”

“She probably turned it off,” Jack said. Wouldn’t want anything to interrupt her night with Max-

who-apparently-has-a-fetish-with-women’s-shoes,afterall.

“That would certainly be a first,” Collin said. “She’s never once turned that thing off as far as I

know.Shekeepsitonforwork.”

Jackpausedatthis.“Okay—we’lllookintoit.”

HehungupandturnedtoWilkins.“ThatwasMcCann.HesaysCameron’snotansweringhercell

phone.Probablyjustadroppedsignal,butweshouldcheckitout.”Hepickeduphisphoneandcalled
Slonsky.Whenthedetectivedidn’tanswer,Jackpagedhimandleftamessagetocallback.

Jackfrowned.“DideitherPhelpsorKaminmentionthenameofthenewguythey’vegotwatching

Cameron?”

Wilkinsshookhishead.“No.”

Jack quickly looked up the number for Spiaggia restaurant and dialed. Twenty seconds later, he

hungupthephone,hisfrustrationlevelhavingrisenabouttennotches.“IgotarecordingthatsaysI
shouldtryagaininafewminutesifI’mcallingduringnormalbusinesshours.Veryhelpful,”hesaid
toWilkins.“DowehavenumbersforeitherPhelpsorKamin?”

“No.”

Great. Clearly, that would have to change ASAP. “Let’s call the station and have them paged, too.

Howniceitwouldbeifwecouldfindsomebodywhoknowssomething.”

“Therestaurantisonlytwomilesaway,”Wilkinssaid.“Whydon’tIstayhereandkeeptryingthem,

CPD,andCameron,whileyouheadoverandcheckthingsout?Withyourride,you’llbethereand
backinfifteenminutes.”

Jacknodded—he’dbeenthinkingalongthosesamelines.Therewereplentyofperfectlyinnocuous

reasons Cameron might not have been answering her phone. But the thought of that one not-so-
innocuousreasongothimmoving.Fast.Hegrabbedhiskeysandshovedtheminthebackpocketof
hisjeans.“PhelpsandKaminsaidtheysawhergointotherestaurant,soatleastweknowthatmuch.If
yougetthroughtotherestaurant,confirmthateverything’sokaywiththiscopSlonsky’sgotwatching
her,whoeverthehellheis,thencallme.Mostlikely,thisisallalotofnothing.”

“Andifitisn’tnothing?”Wilkinsasked.

Jack yanked open the top right drawer of his desk and pulled out his backup gun, a subcompact

Glock27.Hestrappeditintoaharnessaroundhisankle.“ThenI’llmakeitnothing,assoonasIget
there.”

Becausenoonemessedwithhiswitnesses.

Noteventhisone.

SIXMINUTESLATER,havingracedthroughthecityatvastlyillegalspeedsonlyaskilleddriverand
badge-carryingFBIagentcouldpulloffwithoutfearofdeathorbeingarrested,Jackpulledupatthe
One Magnificent Mile building. He left his Triumph parked out front and flashed his badge to the
lobbysecurityguardinordertoavoidbeingtowed.Afteraquicksprintuptheescalator,heentered
themarblefoyerofSpiaggiarestaurant.

Themaîtred’camearoundthecorner,lookingharried.“Sorry—Ihopeyouhaven’tbeenwaiting

long.Abusiercrowdtonightthanwehadanticipated.CanIhelpyou?”Whilehecaughthisbreath,he
tooknoticeofJack’sjeansandeyedthemskeptically.

Jackstillhadhisbadgeinhishand.“JackPallas,FBI.I’mlookingforoneofyourguests,Cameron

Lynde.Dark-hairedwoman,earlythirties,aboutfive-three.”

Themaîtred’studiedhisbadge.“AndytoldmeI’mnotsupposedtogivethatkindofinformation

out.AndhespecificallysaidI’msupposedtocallhimifanyoneasksforittonight.”

AtleastCPDgotthatright.“I’lltellyouwhat—youcallhim,andwhileyou’redoingthat,I’mgoing

to have a look around.” Without further delay, Jack entered the main dining room and quickly

surveyedhissurroundings.Therestaurantspannedtwolevels:theprimarydiningarea,andalower
level where tables were flanked by impressive floor-to-ceiling windows. Despite the ornate
chandeliersabove,thelightingintherestaurantwaslow—presumablytoenhancetheviewsofthecity
andLakeMichigan—andittookhimafewmomentstoscanthroughtheguestsonthefirstlevel.Not
seeingCameron,heheadedtothebalconyrailingandlookedforheratoneofthetablesbelow.He
spottedheratthesecondtablefromtheleft,sittingnexttothewindow.Alone.

For a moment, he had to pause and just . . . look. Because the view he had from the balcony was

stunning.

Andhewasn’treferringtothelake.

Thesoftcandlelightonthetablepickedupthegoldhighlightsinherlongchestnutbrownhair.She

worea sleeveless blackdress that showedoff every curve ofwhat Jack supposedhe would have to
acknowledgewasanincrediblebody.

She sat at the table, looking out the window next to her. He watched as she took a sip from the

wineglasssheheld.Shelookedsubdued.Shecheckedherwatch,thencrossedonelegovertheother,
revealingaslitinthedressatherthigh.

Onlyonewinemenuonthetable,Jacknoted.Itdidn’ttakeaspecialagenttofigureoutwhathad

happened.Notthathecaredoranything,buttheinfamousMaxwaskindofadumbasstoleaveagirl
likethatsittingaloneinarestaurant.

Hiscellphonevibratedinthepocketofhisblazer.JackpulleditoutandsawitwasWilkins.

“Ijusttalkedtothecopattherestaurant.Name’sAndyZuckerman.He’stellingmethatCameronis

fine,”Wilkinssaid.

“I’ve got a visual,” Jack confirmed. “She seems okay. I’ll find out what the problem is with her

phoneandgetbacktoyou.”

Hehungupandmadehiswayovertohertable.

Ten

CAMERONCHECKEDHERwatch,wonderingwhatthestatuteoflimitationswasbeforeawoman—
clearlydressedforadate—sittingaloneatatableinoneofthemostromanticrestaurantsinthecity
begantolookwhollypathetic.

She would finish her glass of wine, she told herself. She’d treated herself to a 2006 Stags’ Leap

petitesyrah,unwillingtolettheeveningbeatotalwaste.

Maxhadstoodherup.

Technically,shesupposed,hehadn’tactuallystoodherup,becausehe’dtextedher—ohyes,atext

message,asifhedidn’thaveamomenttospareforaphonecall—toletherknowthathewasstuckin
ameetingwithaclientandwouldn’tbeabletomakeit.Alotofhelpthathadbeen,seeinghowshe’d
alreadyarrivedattherestaurantandbeenseatedatthetimehesenthismessage.She’dorderedadrink

whenthewaitercamebyhertable,hopingtopulloffsomesortofchic,nonchalant,“Ohno,justone
tonight—afteraharddayofwork,Ioftenunwindaloneinfive-starrestaurantswitharichlyaromatic
Rhonevarietal”typevibe.Giventheslitinherdressandherknock-outhighheels(ifshedidsayso
herself),shedoubtedanyone,includingthewaiter,wasfooled.

Whenshehadn’timmediatelyansweredMax’stextmessage,wantingtocalmdownfirst,he’dsent

her another message asking when they could reschedule their date. Again. In response, she’d sent a
messagesayingthatshewouldcheckhercalendarforthemonthofProbablyNever,Buddyandget
backtohim.Then,thinkingMaxmighthaveathingortwototextinresponsetothat,she’dturned
down the ringer on her phone, not wanting to disturb the other restaurant guests with further
incomingmessagebeeps.Frankly,atthatpoint,shedidn’twantMaxbotheringher,either.

As Cameron finished her wine, she looked out the window, taking in the view of the lake and

reflectinguponthosethingsasinglewomaninherthirtiestendedtothinkaboutwhensittingalonein
arestaurant.Herbestfriendwasgettingmarried,andshehadnoonetotaketothewedding.Nooneto
sharethemomentwith,otherthanCollin,butthatwasdifferent.Itwasn’tthebiggestdeal,sheknew—
particularlywiththemuchmoreseriousissuesshe’dfacedlately—butshecertainlywouldn’tkickup
toomuchofafussifFatewantedtothrowheraboneortwointhemandepartment.

“WhathappenedtoMax?”

Surprisedtohearthevoice,CameronlookedoverandsawJackstandingathertable.

Fatewassoclearlymockingher.

Cameronfrowned.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Perfect.Justthemanshewantedtorunintoright

then.

“You haven’t been answering your phone. Are you having problems with it?” Jack looked

displeased.Bigsurprisethere.

“It seems to be working fine.” Cameron reached into her purse and pulled it out to check. She

realizedwhatshe’ddone.“Oh...Iturnedtheringerdown.Imustnothaveheardthecallsoverthe
noiseoftherestaurant.”Shepeeredupathim.“Wereyoutryingtocallme?Issomethingwrong?”

“Collincalled.Hecouldn’treachyou,gotnervous,andcalledme.Thenwecouldn’treachyouor

getthroughtotherestaurant,sohereIam,”Jacksaid.

Cameronranherhandsthroughherhair,feelingverytired.Ithadbeenalongday—she’dgoneone

roundwithheropposingcounselincourt,anotherroundwithSilas,andthenhadbeenditchedbyher
date.FromthelookonJack’sface,hewasgearingupforanothersparringmatchandshewasn’tsure
shehaditinherrightthen.

“I’msorry,”shesaid.“Iwasn’tthinkingwhenIturneddownmyphone.Iapologizethatyouhadto

runallthewayoverherefornothing.Gloweratmeallyouwant—you’veearneditthistime.”

Jacktookaseatinthechairacrossfromher.

“Thatbeingsaid,”Cameroncontinued,“IwouldliketopointoutthatOfficerZuckermanhasbeen

overthereatthebar,watchingmeallnight,soit’snotasthoughIhadanyreasontobelieveIwasin
danger.AndI’dalsoliketostate,fortherecord,thattherewasneveranydiscussionaboutmekeeping
my cell phone on at all times. If that was something you expected as part of this surveillance, you
shouldhavestateditclearlyupfronttoavoidexactlythistypeofscenario.”

Okay,somaybeshehadjustatinybitleftforonelastround.

Jackrestedhisarmsonthetable.“ThathastobetheworstapologyI’veeverheard.”

“I’vehadachancetothinkthingsthrough.SeeinghowIwasonlyaboutthirtypercentatfaulthere,

yougetthirtypercentofanapology.”

“Isee.”

Cameronwaitedforhimtosaysomethingfurther.“That’sit?Iexpectedtheretobealotmore.You

know,withthegrowlingandscowling.”

“Icouldaddafewcursewordstothat,ifyoulike.”

Cameroncheckedhergrinjustintime.“Notnecessary,butthanksfortheoffer.”

Theysatinsilenceforamoment,eachonestudyingtheotherwarily.

“Soyouneversaidwhathappenedtoyourdate,”Jackledin.

“Hehadalast-minuteconflictwithwork.Forthethirdtimeinthreeweeks.”Cameronhadnoidea

whyshe’daddedthatlastpieceofinformation.

Jack’sdarkeyesstudiedher.“Ihopeyouhadbetterluckpickingoutshoesthatday.”

Heneverceasedtoamazeher.“HowdoyouknowhowImetMax?”Cameronasked.

“KaminandPhelpsareawealthofinformation.Theyseemtobehavingablastbeingassignedto

yourdetail.”

“Shockingly,somepeopleactuallyfindmecharming.”

“Ioncefoundyoucharming,too,”Jacksaidquietly.

Itwasasthoughtheproverbialrecordhadskippedtoastop,silencingtheroom.

Forthelastweek,sheandJackhaddancedaroundthisveryissue,neveractuallydiscussingthepast.

But now that he had launched the first salvo, she could either retreat or face him head-on. And she
wasn’taretreatingkindofgirl.

“Thefeelingwasoncemutual.”

Jackmulledthisoverforamoment.“Nowthatwe’reworkingtogether,maybeweshouldtalkabout

whathappenedthreeyearsago.”

Camerontookasipofherwine,tryingtolookcasual.Shechoseherwordscarefully.“Idon’tthink

there’sanythingthatcouldbesaidthatwoulddousanygood.”

Jack surprised her with his response. “I was wrong to say those things to that reporter. I knew it

rightafterIsaidit.Thatwas...aroughtimeforme.Iwasgoingtoapologizetoyou.Ofcourse,I
nevergotthechance.”

It was as she’d expected. He blamed her for his transfer, never realizing how close he’d come to

beingdismissedfromtheFBI.Partofherwastemptedtotellhimthetruthandjustgetitalloutthere.
ButhewassoangrywithherabouttheMartinocase—abouteverything—thatshedidn’tknowhow
he’dreact.Logically,therewasnogoodreasonwhysheshouldtrustJack.Soshecontinueddodging
the issue. “I appreciate your apology,” she said matter-of-factly, hoping that would end the

conversation.

Hisfacehardened.“That’sit?”

“There’s not much more I can say about what happened back then.” Without taking a risk that the

informationwouldgetbacktoSilas.

“Youcantellmewhyyoudidit.IknowyouwerepissedoffaboutthethingsIsaid,butdidthesight

ofmereallyoffendyousomuchthatyouneededtohavemethrownoutoftheentirecity?”

Cameronknewitwastimetoendthisconversation.“Thisisn’tagoodidea,ustalkingaboutthis.”

Jackleanedforward,hisdarkeyesglitteringinthesoftlightcomingoffthecandlesinthecenterof

thetable.“IsawyoucomeoutofDavis’sofficethatmorning,Cameron.”

Angergotthebetterofher.Sheleanedin,meetinghimhalfway.“Yousawwhatyouwantedtosee,”

shesnapped.

CameronsawsurpriseregisteronJack’sfaceandknewshehadsaidtoomuch.“Dammit,Jack.Just

letitgo.”Shestoodupfromthetableandwalkedaway,notdaringtoutteranotherword.

Eleven

WHILEWAITINGINthelobby,Cameronslippedonherjacketandtiedthebeltaroundherwaist.It
wasawarmnightforOctoberinChicago,butgiventhatitwasneverthelessstillOctoberinChicago,
theconceptof“warm”whenwearingasleevelessdresswasrelative.

“Icantakeitfromhere,officer.Thankyou.”

At the sound of Jack’s voice, both Cameron and the police officer Slonsky had substituted for

KaminandPhelpsturned.ShewatchedasJackstrodedowntheescalator.

“Thank you, Agent Pallas, but there’s no need,” she replied coolly. “I’ll stick with Officer

ZuckermanuntilKaminandPhelpsarrive.”

JackignoredherandshowedhisbadgetoZuckerman.“JackPallas.Youspokewithmypartneron

thephoneafewminutesago,soyou’reawarethattheFBIhasjurisdictionovertheinvestigationMs.
Lyndeisinvolvedin.I’llmakesureshegetshomesafely.”

Cameron watched as Officer Zuckerman nodded and wished her a good night. After he left, she

glaredatJack.“Whydidyoudothat?”

“Becausewe’renotfinishedwithourconversation.”

“Believeme,we’refinished.”

He shook his head. “No.” He moved toward her, close enough that Cameron had to tilt her head

backtolookathim.

“Whatdidyoumean,whenyousaidthatIsawwhatIwantedtoseethatmorning?”Hestudiedher

face,searchingforanswers.“WhatelseshouldIhaveseen?”

Cameronheldherground.“Ifthisissomekindofinterrogationtechnique,it’snotworking.”

“I’mawfullygoodatthiswhenIneedtobe,youknow.”

“HowfortunatethenthatIdon’tplanforustodoalotoftalking.”

“Maybeyou’llwarmuptotheideaonthewayhome.”

IttookCameronasecondtocatchthat.“I’mnotgoinghomewithyou.”

Jacknodded.“IalreadycalledKaminandPhelpsandtoldthemtomeetusatyourhouse.”

“Why?”

“I told you, we’re not finished with our conversation.” He smiled slightly. “What’s wrong? Don’t

trustyourselfaroundme?”

Cameronraisedaneyebrow.Hardly.“Fine.Let’sgetthisoverwith.Where’syourcar?”

“Parkedonthestreetinfrontofmyapartment.”Hepointedbehindher.“We’retakingthat.”

Cameron turned and saw a motorcycle parked in front of the building. She was no expert on

motorcycles—far from it—so later when Collin interrupted her at this point as she recounted the
details of the evening to ask her five thousand damn questions about what kind of motorcycle Jack
drove, the best she could tell him was that, no, it wasn’t a Harley, and no, it wasn’t one of those
crotch-rocketsportbikeseither.

Itwassilverandblack,anditwasdefinitelyabad-boybike,shedecidedasshelookeditover.But

bad-boyinarefined,understatedsortofway.ItsuitedJackwell.

Butstill.Itwasamotorcycle.

“I’mnotgettingonthat,”shetoldhim.

“Neverbeenonabikebefore?”heguessed.

“Ah,no.Notmything.”

“Howdoyouknowthey’renotyourthingifyou’veneverbeenonone?”

“Forstarters,they’redangerous.”

“Notintherighthands.”Jackwalkedovertothemotorcycleandclimbedon.

Cameronhadaretortready,butitdiedonherlips.Holyshit,helookedridiculouslyhotonthebike.

Jacknodded.“Comeon—let’sgo.”

Shewalkedover.“HowamIsupposedtoridethatthinginadress?”

Hedidn’tsomuchasblink.“Thatslitatyourthighshoulddothetrick.”

So.

He’dnoticedtheslitofherdress.

Cameronhikedupherdressandclimbedon,showingalotoflegintheprocess.Oops.Sheadjusted

her jacket to cover up, wondering how much Jack had seen. From the look on his face when she
glancedup,he’dseenplenty.

“Ohyeah—thedressworksjustfine,”hesaidwithawarmergleaminhiseyesthanshewasusedto

seeing.

Cameronloopedherpursearoundherwristandsettleditintoherlap.Shesearchedaroundtheseat

forherhandles.“WhatdoIholdonto?”

“Me.”

Howconvenient.“MaybeIshouldjuststickwithPhelpsandKamin,”shesaidnervously.

“Toolatetobackoutnow.”Jackreachedaroundherandpulledahelmetoffthebackoftheseat.

“Youneverknow,maybeyou’llsurpriseyourselfandactuallylikeit.”Hehandedherthehelmet.“Put
thison.”

“Whataboutyou?”sheasked.

“I’llgetby.”

Atleastitwouldmakehimdrivemorecarefully.Orsoshehoped.Sheslidthehelmetoverherhead

asJackfireduptheenginewithaloudroar.Withoutthinking,shegrabbedhiswaistandslidcloserto
getabettergrip.

Beforetheytookoff—sincethesecouldverypossiblybeherlastwords—sheflippedupthehelmet

visorandleanedforwardtospeakoverthebike’sengine.“Don’tdoanythingcrazy.I’mthemaidof
honorinmyfriendAmy’swedding,andshe’llkillmeifIhavetobewheeleddowntheaisleinabody
cast. Plus I got these new four-inch heels just for the occasion and they will not go well with
crutches.”

Sheflippedthevisordown.

Jack spun around in his seat and flipped the visor back open. “Don’t worry—since it’s your first

time,I’llbeextragentle.”Withawink,heflippedthevisorshut.

Sheflippedthevisorbackopen.“Niceinnuendo.AmIsupposedtobecharmedby—”

Jack reached around and cut her off by flipping the visor shut again. “Sorry, no more talking, it

distractsthedriver.”

Frombehindthehelmet,Cameronclampedhermouthinfrustration.Ifhekilledthembothonthe

stupidbike,itwasreallygoingtopissheroffthatshedidn’tatleastgetthelastwordin.

Butastheydroveawayfromthebuilding,herfearofmotorcyclesquicklysurpassedherannoyance

withJack.Shewrappedherarmstightlyaroundhiswaist.TheydrovedownMichiganAvenueforless
than half a block before pulling to a stop at the light that would take them onto Lake Shore Drive.
Throughthehelmetvisor,shewatchedasthelightforthecrossstreetturnedyellow,thenred,andshe
closedhereyesastheirsignalturnedgreenandtheytookoffatabreathtakingspeed.

When she opened her eyes, they were shooting through the Oak Street underpass, then suddenly

they were up and out in the open air with nothing but the wide expanse of Lake Michigan on their
right. The formidable waves of the lake crashed against the breakers and, unable to help herself,
Cameron glanced over her shoulder at her favorite view of the city: the Hancock building and the
other sky-scrapers rising majestically next to the lake along with the twinkling lights of the Ferris
wheel at Navy Pier. Every bitterly cold February when she asked herself why she lived in Chicago,
thisviewwastheanswer.

SheturnedaroundandpulledclosertoJackastheyracedalongthedrivepastLincolnParkZooand

theharbor.Theairwasbrisk,butshehadherjacketandheblockedmostofthewind.Andasmuchas
shehatedtoadmitit,theridewas...exhilarating.Heradrenalinewasflowing,andseveralminutes
laterwhentheyslowedtoexitoffLakeShoreatBelmontHarbor,sheflippedopenthevisorofthe
helmet.

“Takethelongway,”shesaidbreathlesslyinJack’sear.

It was hard to tell over the motorcycle engine, but she was almost certain she heard him chuckle.

Whentheysloweddown,sherelaxedandloosenedhergriparoundhiswaist.Withoutthinking,her
right hand just sort of happened to graze along his stomach, and she felt his abdominal muscles
tighteninresponse,firmandhardasarock.

Andthatwasprettymuchthemomentshestartedthinkingaboutsex.

In her defense, to start things out, he was the hottest man she’d ever laid eyes on—and now her

hands,too—anditcertainlydidn’thelpthatshewasstraddlinghimbetweenherlegs.Astheydrove,
niceandslowalongthesidestreets,Camerontriedtopullhermindoutofthegutter.Butthenthey
stoppedatanintersectionandshenoticedhowJack’shandsworkedthehandlebar/clutchthingyashe
revved the engine—almost like a caress—and she began imagining other things his hands could
caress,stronghandsthatcouldliftherup,holdherdown,flipherover,pinheragainstawall...and
sherealizedthenthathermindwasalreadysofardownintheguttershe’dneedanextensionladderto
getitoutsoshemightaswelljustgiveintothewholedarnfantasy.

Theywerejustgettingtothegoodpartinherhead—inhermindshehadrevisedthescenefromthe

otherdaywhenJackandWilkinscamebytotellheraboutthesurveillance,onlythistimeitwasonly
herandJack(nocluehowheactuallygotinsideherhouse,uselessdetails)andthistimeshehadjust
stepped out of the shower (with perfect makeup and hair, of course) and he was waiting in her
bedroom(anactthatwouldbestalker-ishinreallifebutwasnecessarytoadvancethestoryline)and
hesaidsomeslybitaboutwasshegoingtobeacooperativewitnessandshesaidsomethingequally
slyback(shehadn’tcomeupwiththeexactlineyetbutatthispointthedialoguebecamesuperfluous)
and then she dropped her towel to the floor and walked over and without saying anything else they
tumbledontothebedand—

Pulledinfrontofherhouse.

The motorcycle came to a stop, and Cameron blinked as she came back to reality. She sat there,

needingamomenttoregroup,tryingtofocusonthefactthatthemanshewaswithwasJackPallas,
whohadonlymeanttroubleforherintheirbrief,butbad,historytogether.

Noticingthatshehadn’tmoved,heturnedaroundandflippedopenthevisorofherhelmet.

“Youokayinthere?”

Cameronsnappedoutofit.“Sure—I’mfine.”Shepulledoffthehelmet,handeditovertohim,and

evenmanagedanonchalantlook.Orsoshethought.

Jacklookedatherclosely.“Areyoublushing?”

Cameronshrugged.“Idon’tthinkso.Maybethere’salittlecoloronmycheeksfromthewind.”

“Youwerewearingahelmet.”

Right.

Timetogo.

She climbed off the bike as quickly as she could in her dress and heels. Jack had parked the

motorcyclenexttothecurb,andtheaddedinchesmadeiteasierforhertogetdown.Withanefficient
nod, she said her good-bye. “Thanks for the ride. Good night.” She turned and headed toward her
frontgate.

“Holdon—Ineedtocheckoutyourhouse.”

She stopped, having forgotten about that. “Well, let’s hurry up, then,” she said over her shoulder.

Shegottothegateandreachedforthehandlewhenhishandcamedownoverhers.

“Anxioustogetridofme,areyou?”heasked.

Cameronturnedaround.“Yes.”

Jackpaused, as ifseeing something hehadn’t expected. He tooka step towardher. “Why are you

lookingatmelikethat?”

Uh-oh...trouble.

Shetriedtoplayitoff.“Likewhat?”Sheopenedthegateandbackedtowardthefrontsteps.

Jackcontinuedtoadvanceonher.“Likethat.”

Cameron put her hand on the stone ledge and slowly climbed up the stairs. “You’re imagining

things.”

Heshookhisheadslowly.“No.”

“Imust’vegottenworkedupfrommyfirstmotorcycleride,”shelied.Andpossiblyfromthinking

aboutridingsomethingelse,too.

Shameless.

Jack clenched his jaw. “Christ, Cameron.” As he backed her toward the door, his expression was

partangry,part...wow—somethingelseentirely.“WhatthehellamIsupposedtodowhenyoulook
atmelikethat?”

“Ignoreit.Stayfocusedonthefactthatyouhateme.”

“I’mtrying.I’mreallytryinghere.”

Hehadhertrappedagainstthedoor.Cameronwonderedifhecouldhearthepoundingofherheart,

itwasbeatingsofast.

Jackputhishandonherhip.Suchasimpletouch,butCameron’sbreathcaughtnevertheless.With

herbackpressedagainstthedoor,theonlymovementofherbodycamefromherchest,herbreathing
shortandquickinanticipation.

Jack’sgazefellonherpartedlips.Heslidhisotherhandtohernapeandtiltedherhead,pinningher

withdarkeyessohotshefelttheburninherstomach.

Sheknewshecouldpushhimawayifshewantedto.

Shedidn’twantto.

His gaze softened. “Cameron,” he said huskily, and she felt as though she melted right there.

Knowingwhathewasabouttodo,sheclosedhereyesandfelthislipsbrushlightlyagainsthersright
beforehe—

Stopped.

Blinkinginconfusion,CameronwatchedasJackpulledback.

“We’vegotcompany,”hesaidinathickvoice.

Shelookedoverhisshoulderandsawafamiliarunmarkedcarparkedonthestreetinfrontofher

house.PhelpsandKamin.

“Whendidtheygethere?”sheasked.

“Justnow.Iheardthecarpullup.”Jackgesturedtoherdoor.“Doyouhaveyourkeys?”

Shenodded,tryingtoclearherhead.“Inmypurse.”Shepulledthekeysoutandunlockedthedoor.

Jack moved past her and stepped inside. “Stay in the doorway, where Kamin and Phelps can see

you.”Thenhewenttosearchherhouse.

Cameron stood there and waited, trying to process what had happened between her and Jack. Her

mind was quickly coming to terms with the fact that she’d almost just made a very big mistake,
althoughherbodyseemednotaswillingtoacceptthisasfact.

Getagrip,shetoldherselfasJackcamedownthestairsfromthesecondfloor.

“Allclear,”hesaidasheapproached.

Cameronsteppedoutofthedoorway,knowingthatphysicaldistancewasherbestdefenseagainst

himrightthen.

Jacknoticedherquickretreat.“Don’tforgettolockthedoorbehindme,”hesaidtersely.

Hewalkedoutthedoor.

JACKHURRIEDDOWNthesteps,tryingtofigureoutwhen,exactly,hehadbecomesuchanidiot.

He’dalmostkissedher.AndifPhelpsandKaminhadn’tpulledupwhentheyhad,hewouldhave.

Clearly,abadidea.Onthis,atleast,theyseemedtoagree.

He’d been momentarily caught off guard by that look she’d given him when she’d gotten off the

bike—whateverthehellthathadbeen—butnowhewasfocusedonceagain.Shewashiswitness.More
important,shewasCameronLynde,andthatmeanthandsoff.Thelasttimehe’dgottentoocloseto
her,he’dgottenburned.Bigtime.Notsomethinghewantedtogothroughagain.

He liked being back in Chicago. Being a solitary person, he didn’t have a ton of friends, but his

younger sister and two-year-old nephew lived close to the city. He planned to stay in Chicago for
goodthistime,andthatmeantnoscrewups,particularlyincaseswhereCameronwasinvolved.

Jackwalkedtheperimeterofthehouseandconfirmedthatallthewindowsanddoorsweresecure.

Whenhefinished,heclosedthefrontgateandheadedovertotheunmarkedcarparkedatthecurb.He
had no idea how much Kamin and Phelps had seen, but they weren’t smirking or gawking as he
walkedup,sohetookthatasagoodsign.

Thewindowofthepassengersideunrolledashewalkedup.Jackknewhewasintroubleassoonas

hesawtheoldercop’sexpression.

Kamingrinnedapprovingly.“Sothat’swhyyouwantedtodriveherhomefromtherestaurant.”

Phelps leaned across the seat. “Does this mean she’s not going to the wedding with Max-the-

investment-banker?”

Somuchforhopingtheyhadn’tseenanything.

Twelve

ON THE WEST side of the city, Grant put on his game face as he approached the bar with the red
neonsidethatblinked“ClubRio.”Hefeltnakedwithouthisgunandshoulderharness,butonlyaman
withadeathwishwouldattempttobringapieceintothiskindofplace.

Heopenedthedoorandtheloudrhythmicbeatofsalsamusicspilledout.Almostimmediatelyupon

stepping inside, a bouncer dressed in black and wearing an ear wire frisked him. He asked the
bouncerwherehecouldfindMr.Black—thatwasallhiscontacthadtoldhim,toaskforaMr.Black.
Thebouncernoddedinthedirectionofthefewemptyboothsinthebackoftheclub.

Grantchosetheboothinthecornerandtookaseat.Itwasdoubtfulthatanyonewouldhearhimand

“Mr.Black”overthemusic,butgiventhestakesandthepurposeofhisvisit,hedidn’twanttorisk
havinganyeaves-droppers.Awaitresscameforhisorder,andheaskedforawhiskeyneat.Hedidn’t
plantodrinkit,butappearancewaseverythinginsituationssuchastheseandhedidn’twanttolook
overlynervousorsuspicious.

Afterthewaitresscamebackwithhisdrink,hesatbackintheboothandfeignedinterestinwatching

thedancersoutonthefloorinthecenteroftheclub.Inthemiddleofthesecondsong,atall,thinman
inhisfortiesshowedupathistable.Heworeanopen-neckwhitecottonshirtthathunglooselyover
darkjeansandhadshortlycroppedbleached-blondhair.Hisarms,exposedbyhisrolled-upsleeves,
werecoveredwithtattoos.Notexactlytheimagehe’dhadinmind.

“AreyouMr.Black?”Grantasked.

“Goodguess,”themansaidinaslightlyraspyvoice.Hetookaseatacrossthetable.“Ihearyou’re

lookingforinformationaboutanFBIinvestigation,Mr.Lombard.”

Grantdecidedagainstaskinghowheknewhisname.“IheardthatRobertoMartinomightbeableto

assistme.”

Mr.Blacklitupacigaretteandexhaledsmokeacrossthetable.“Mr.Martinodoesn’tassistpeople,

Mr.Lombard.Peopleassisthim.Tellmesomething—doesSenatorHodgesknowyou’rehere?”

Grantalsodecidedagainstaskinghowtheyknewwhoheworkedfor.“Hedoesn’tneedtoknow.His

chiefofstaffsentme,”hesaid,playingupthecharadethathewasthereonlyonDriscoll’sorders.Not
thatanyonewaslikelytofindoutaboutthismeeting.ClubRiowasnotabarthattolditssecrets.

“WhyshouldIcareaboutSenatorHodges’schiefofstaff?”Mr.Blackasked.

“Hehastheearofaveryinfluentialman.HavingaconnectiontoSenatorHodgescouldbeusefulto

yourbossoneday.”

Mr.Blackconsideredthisashetookanotherdragofhiscigarette.“Maybe.Maybenot.”

“Perhapsyou’dbemoreinterestedtolearnthatSenatorHodgesandMr.Martinoshareacommon

enemy.”

“Martinohasmanyenemies.You’llhavetobealotmorespecific.”

“JackPallas.”

GrantcaughtthequickflashofrecognitioninMr.Black’seyes.“Soyouknowhim.”

Mr.Blacknodded.“Yes...IknowJackPallas.AlthoughhehadadifferentnamewhenIknewhim.”

Heappearedfarmoreinterestednow.“WhatdoyouknowaboutPallas?”

“Iknowthathegotinsideyourorganization,”Grantsaid.“ThathebetrayedMartinoandtookout

severalofyourmenintheprocess.”

Mr.Blackpausedforamoment.“Whatisityouwant,Lombard?”

“Pallas is the lead agent in a murder investigation that implicates Hodges. The FBI is hiding

somethingfromus.Thesenator ’schiefofstaffhasaskedmetofindoutwhatthatsomethingis.He
would,ofcourse,beverygratefulforyourhelpwiththismatter.Asthesenator ’sprimaryadvisor,he
wouldhopetobeabletoreturnthefavorsomeday.”Sure,he’dembellishedonDriscoll’sorders,but
the way Grant figured it, if Roberto Martino ever came to collect on the favor, that would be
Driscoll’sproblem,nothis.

Asifsilentlybeckoned,awaitressappearedoutofnowhereandsetanashtraybeforeMr.Black.He

flicked the ash off his cigarette then rolled it against the ashtray, rounding off the cherry. He took
anotherdrag,andGrantcouldtellhewasconsideringhisoffer.

“Lookatitthisway—byhelpingusout,yougettofuckwithPallas’sinvestigation,”Grantadded.

“Whateveritishe’shiding,it’simportantenoughthathedoesn’twantanyonetoknowaboutit.”

Mr.Blackeasedbackintheboothwithahumorlessgrin.“Youseemprettyconfidentthatwe’llgive

youthisinformationjustforthehellofit.Ithinkyou’veoverestimatedMartino’sdislikeofPallas.”

“HaveI?”

Mr.Blacksaidnothingatfirst.Afteranotherdragofhiscigarette,hestoodup.“Waithere.”

Grantslowlyexhaled.Assuminghedidn’treturnwithacoupleofgoonsandacarwithaplastic-

linedtrunk,itlookedlikehemightbeonhiswaytogettingsomeanswers.

Mr.Blackreturnedafewminuteslater.Hetossedafoldedpieceofpaperontothetable.“Thisman

willhelpyou.Meethimatthisaddressatteno’clockonSaturdaynight.Younowoweus,Lombard.
Notsomechiefofstafforanyoneelse—you.SoIhopewhateverinformationthismanhas,it’sworth
it.”

Grant felt the anger rise in him, although he refused to show any reaction. He hoped the

informationwasworthit,too.Hewascountingonit.

He unfolded the paper and saw a name and an address. He looked up, sure he was being played.

“Thiscan’tberight.”

“It’sright.”Mr.Blackwalkedawayfromtheboothanddisappearedintothecrowd.

Grantglancedbackdownatthepaperinhishand.Thiswasasurprisingturnofevents.Hedidn’t

know the man personally, but of course he recognized the name. Anyone connected to U.S. politics
andlawenforcement,especiallyinChicago,wouldrecognizeit.

SilasBriggs.

Thirteen

JACKCHECKEDHISwatchasheandWilkinssteppedofftheplane.Thedelayintheirflighthadput
themoverthreehoursbehindschedule.Thejoysofairtravel.

Granted,he’dalreadybeeninabadmoodbeforetheflightdelay.Davishadcalledtocheckinwhile

heandWilkinshadbeenwaitingtoboard,wantinganupdateontheinvestigation.JackknewDavis
was getting pressure from the director, which meant Davis was pressuring him. And, unfortunately,
Jackhadn’thadmuchtoreport.

They’dspentthelastthreedaysinterviewingwitnessesandnotlearningmuchintheprocess.First,

they’d tracked down Mandy Robards’s old clients and ex-boyfriends, looking for anyone who
might’vebeenjealousoverherliaisonswithSenatorHodges.They’dgottenzeroleadsonthatfront.
AlthoughMandyseemedtobeafavoriteamongstherclientsforherprofessionalskills,noneofthem
—noranyofherex-boyfriendsforthatmatter—seemedparticularlytroubledbythefactthatshehad
sexwithothermen.Few,ifanyofthem,appearedtohaveanysignificantemotionalconnectiontoher.
Shedidwhatsheneededtodoaspartofherjob—quitefantastically,apparently—buthadmadevery
fewpersonalattachmentsalongtheway.

Inanoddway,JackrelatedsomewhattothepicturepaintedofMandyRobards.Somejobsrequired

a certain level of detachment; a turning off of emotions in order to do the things that needed to be
done.ThatwasoneofthereasonshisoutbursttothereporteraboutCameronhadsurprisedhimmore
thananyone—herarelylosthiscool,evenunderthemosthigh-pressureofsituations.She,however,
hadthemostinfuriatingabilitytogetunderhisskin.

And “infuriating” was apparently the theme of the week. Lately, it seemed like Jack couldn’t take

twostepswithoutbumpingintosomebodywhoclearlyhadnothingbettertodothantoseriouslypiss
himoff.HistripwithWilkinshadbeenonefrustrationaftertheother.

Yesterday they’d flown to New York to follow up on the list of individuals who might hold a

grudge against Hodges, a list based primarily on his recent appointment as chairman of the Senate
Committee on Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs. Hodges was a staunch proponent of increased
regulation and oversight of financial institutions—most notably Wall Street investment banks and
hedgefunds.HisfirstinitiativeaschairmanhadbeentoopenaseriesofSenateinvestigativehearings
into improper trading practices and the stock market collapse, an act that had made him extremely
unpopularwithWallStreetCEOs.

Jackhadn’tthoughthecouldpossiblyfindamoredifficultteamoflawyerstodealwiththanthose

representing Hodges. This trip to New York had proven him wrong. While he and Wilkins had

eventually been able to meet with most of the hedge fund and investment bank CEOs on their list,
getting face-to-face time with them hadn’t been easy. Most had eventually caved because of Jack’s
persistence,othersbecauseofWilkins’scharm.Afewstubbornones,however,justflat-outrefusedto
speaktoanybodyfromtheFBI.Allinall,ithadbeenalongcoupleofdays.

WhileheandWilkinswereinNewYork,he’dhadoneoftheinvestigativespecialistsattheiroffice

pull together a file of photographs of all the people they had interviewed over the last week. The
originalplan,beforetheirflighthadbeendelayed,hadbeenthatheandWilkinswoulddropbythe
office to pick up the file, then swing over to Cameron’s place to show her the photographs. Jack
hopedshemightrecognizesomeoneshe’dseenearlierintheevening,priortothemurder—perhaps
someoneshe’dnoticedinthelobby,therestaurant,orevenbetter,onthethirteenthfloor.

“Whatdoyouthink?”WilkinsaskedastheystrodethroughtheUnitedterminal,headingtowardthe

overnight parking garage where they’d left his car the morning before. He checked his watch. “It’s
sevenfifteen.Thinkit’stoolatetoheadovertoCameron’s?Itoldherwe’dbetherehoursago.She
saidshehadplansthisevening—shemightnotevenbehomeanymore.”

Jackglancedover.“Whatkindofplans?”

Wilkinsshrugged.“Shedidn’tsay.Why?”

“No reason. Just asking.” Jack pulled out his cell phone and called Kamin. After the fiasco on

Wednesday,he’dgottenbothhisandPhelps’snumberssothathecouldreachthematanytime.

KaminansweredhisphoneandconfirmedthatCameronwasstillhome.“Shouldbehereforawhile

—she’sgotafewgirlfriendsoverandtheylooktobesettlingin,”hesaid.

Jackthankedhimandhungup,notwantingtogivethecopanychancestocommentonwhathe’d

nearly seen Wednesday night. The “nearly” part was key in Jack’s mind—if he’d actually kissed
Cameron,he’dhavetoacknowledgethatfact,evenifonlytohimself.Butwhenitwasonlynearlya
kiss,hecouldgoonpretendingthatnothinghadeverhappened.Whichwasexactlywhatheplannedto
do.

“Whydon’tyoujustcallCameronandaskifshemindsifwestopby?”Wilkinsasked.

“Becauseshe’llsayno,andIcan’tdothistomorrow,”Jacksaid.Itwouldbehisfirstdayoffsince

he’d gotten back to Chicago and he’d made plans to take his nephew to the Shedd Aquarium. “And
Mondayshe’llbebackinherofficeandI’dprefernottotalkthere.Noone’ssupposedtoknowshe’s
workingwithusonthiscase.”

“Ifyouwanttoseeher,Jack,it’sokaytojustadmitit.”

“Sure,Iwanttoseeher—sothatshecanlookatthesephotographs.”

Wilkinspattedhimontheshoulder.“Youkeepstickingwiththatstory,buddy.”

SOMETIMES,BEINGAstubbornSOBreallycamebacktobitehimintheass.

Thiswasoneofthosetimes.

Jack stood outside Cameron’s house, eyeing the scene. From what he could see through the

windows,therehadtobeatleastfifteenortwentywomeninside.

“Ithoughtyousaidshehadafewgirlfriendsover,”hesaidtoKamin.Thetwoofthem,alongwith

Phelps and Wilkins, stood in a row against the undercover car, watching from the street as another
womaninherlatetwenties/earlythirties,wearingjeansandhighheels,andcarryingapinkgiftbag,
walked up the front steps of Cameron’s house and rang the doorbell. A slender, stylishly dressed
blondewomanansweredthedoor.Therewasaflurryofloudsquealingandhugging,thenthedoor
shutandallwasquietagain.

Kaminshrugged.“Atthetime,itwasjustafewgirlfriends.”

“You didn’t think it was worth mentioning on the phone that she was having a bachelorette party

tonight?”

“Didn’trealizeyouwereplanningonracingoverhere,AgentPallas.”

Jackshutup,realizinghe’dsethimselfupforthatone.

“Whatdoyouthinkthepinkbagsarefor?”Wilkinsasked,hisvoicefilledwithwonder.

Phelpsstoodnexttohim,similarlywide-eyedandawe-struck.“It’sagame.Eachgirlbuysapairof

underwear,somethingshewouldnormallywearherself.Thebridehastoguesswhobroughtwhich
pair.Ifthebrideguesseswrong,shehastodoashot.Ifsheguessesright,theothergirldrinks.”

“CameronwasafraidAmywouldthinkthegamewastacky,butthecousinsinsisted,see?”Kamin

said.

Jackglancedover.“Youguyssurearegettingintoallthis.”

Phelpsgrinned.“WhenagirllikeCamerontalksaboutunderwear,youlisten.”

“Howaboutyou,Jack?Couldyoudoit?”Wilkinsasked.

“Dowhat?”

“Twentypairsofunderwear.ThinkyoucouldfigureoutwhichpairbelongstoCameron?”

Jackhadbeeninterrogatedatknife-point,gun-point,prettymuchatall-pointsamancouldthinkof,

buthellifaquestionhadevermadehimsquirmasmuchasthatone.

Becausenowhewasthinkingaboutherunderwear.

“Idon’tseewhyI’dhaveanyparticularinsightintothat,”heansweredgruffly.“Thinkyoucould

figureitout?”

“No,butIdidn’ttrytokissherthreenightsago,”Wilkinssaid.

JackglaredatKaminandPhelps.“Youtwotellallsortsoftales,don’tyou?”HenoddedtoWilkins.

“Weshouldgetgoing.”

Wilkins shook his head. “No way. We came to show Cameron those photographs, and that’s what

we’regoingtodo.”

Jackpointedtothehouse.“Youcan’tseriouslybethinkingaboutgoinginthere.”

Wilkins’seyessparkledwithexcitement.“Oh,I’mgoinginallright.Andyouare,too,partner.”

“You thought going into a purse was sacrosanct? Infiltrating a bachelorette party is way beyond

that.”

Wilkinsrubbedhishandstogethereagerly.“Iknow.AndI’llneverhaveanexcuselikethisagain.”

“You’reanFBIagent,Sam,”Jackremindedhim.

“I’malsoasingleman,Jack.Andinsidethathousearetwentygorgeouswomenwhoaredrinking

andshowingofftheirpanties.It’sano-brainer.”Hepushedoffthecarandheadedtowardthehouse.

“Easyforyoutosay,goodcop.I’mtheonewho’sgoingtocatchhellforthis,”Jackgrumbledashe

followed.

Wilkinsgrinned.“Iknow.That’swhatmakesitsoperfect.”

CAMERONSTOODINfrontofherrefrigerator,tryingtofindaplacetoputalltheleftovertraysof
cheeses,fruits,andtruffles.Amy’scousin,Jolene,sidledupfrombehindthedoor.

“Sowhenisthestrippercoming?”

Cameronshookherhead.“Itoldyou—nostripper.”Shekepthervoicelow.IfAmyevenheardthe

word“stripper”thatevening,there’dbehelltopay.Asmaidofhonor,shehadbeengivenadetailed
listofacceptableactivitiesandeventsforthebacheloretteparty,andnakedman-fleshunequivocally
hadnotbeenonit.

Notsurprisingly,Amy’sothercousin,Melanie,poppedherheadaroundtherefrigeratordoornext.

Likebook-ends,theycameasapair—ifyousawone,theotherwassuretobebringinguptherear
closeby.

“WethoughtyouwerejustsayingthatsoAmydidn’tsuspectanything,”Melaniesaid.

Cameron had noticed that the cousins had an odd, passive-aggressive way of using the collective

“we”whenexpressingdispleasurewithsomething.

“Yes,weassumedthatwasallabigcharadesothateveryonewouldbesurprised,”Joleneadded.

“Ifitwasanissueofmoney,wewould’vebeenhappytopayforit,”Melaniethrewin.

Cameronhadtobitehertongue.Oh,forthenakedman-flesh,theywerewillingtochipintheirtime

and money. Two things they certainly hadn’t been forthcoming with thus far. But in the spirit of
bridesmaidcamaraderie,sheplasteredonasmile.

“It’snotanissueofmoney.IpromisedAmynostrippers.Sorry.”Inexchange,shehadextracteda

similar no-nudity clause from Amy in the event that she ever got engaged. Something that did not
lookparticularlylikelyasoflate,consideringthatshehad(a)noboyfriend,and(b)noprospects.She
was definitely going through some sort of rough patch, first with Max, and then with that bizarre
almost-kisswithJackonherdoorstep.

Post-traumatic stress, she had decided. Definitely. She’d ear-witnessed a murder, after all—one

couldpracticallybeexpectedtobehaveinbizarre,erraticwaysundersuchcircumstances.

Amywalkedintothekitchen.“There’ssomeoneatthedoor,Cameron.Aman.”

Thecousins’eyeslitupastheyexchangedgreedylooks:thenakedman-fleshhasarrived.

AmypointedatCameronaccusingly.“Youpromised.IfthisiswhatIthinkitis,beforewarned:you

willpayforitten-foldwhenit’syourturn.”

CameronsmiledasshebrushedpastAmytoanswerthedoor.“Relax.It’sprobablythelimodriver

lettingusknowhe’shere.”Amyfollowedheroutofthekitchen,thenmadeasharpleftandboltedup
thestairs.

“Seriously,Ame—it’snotastripper.”Cameronlaughed.

“Justtouchingupmymakeup,”Amycalleddownasshehigh-taileditoutofsight.

Cameroncheckedthepeephole.Surprisingly,itwasn’tthelimodriver.Sheopenedthedoor.

“Agent Wilkins.” She stepped outside and partially closed the door behind her for privacy. “Is

everythingallright?”

Wilkinssmiled.“Lookslikeyou’vegotsomepartygoingoninthere.Isitaspecialoccasion?”

“MyfriendAmy’sbacheloretteparty.”

“Abacheloretteparty—youdon’tsay?Wow,Iwishedwe’dknown.”

“We?”Cameronasked.

“Jack’s skulking around somewhere. Said something about checking the security of the outside

perimeter. That’s FBI code for ‘stalling.’ Anyway, we’re here to show you those photographs we
talkedabout.”Heshiftedtotheside,tryingtopeekaroundthedoor.

“Ithoughtweweregoingtodothatearlierthisafternoon.”

“Darn flight delays. It’s okay—you’re busy, I can see that. We can come back some other time.”

Wilkinsflashedherwhatundoubtedlywasoneofthebestgood-copgrinsshe’deverseen.

Cameronnoddedapprovingly.“Notbad.Andthistimeyoudidn’tevenhavetobringmecoffee.Can

wegetthisdoneintwentyminutes?”

“Fifteen,”Wilkinspromised.

She gestured for him to come in. “I’ll tell everyone you’re here to talk about one of my cases. I

obviouslyhaven’ttoldtheothergirlsaboutallthis.”OtherthanAmy,who,likeCollin,knewshewas
beingwatchedasaprecautionarymeasure.

Thedoorbehindherflewopen.JoleneandMelaniestoodinthedoorway.

“Haven’t told the other girls about what?” Jolene demanded to know. She spotted Wilkins and

smiled.“Iknewit!Cameron,youreallyhadusgoingthere.Weknewyouwouldn’tletusdown.”With
a careful eye, she sized Wilkins up from head to toe. “Hmm. You look a little skinny. You better at
leastdofull-frontal.”

“Excuseme?”

“Theythinkyou’reastripper,”Cameronexplained.

Wilkinsseemedflatteredbythis.“Oh—sorry,ma’am.I’mjustanFBIagent.”

Melaniewinked.“Sureyouare.”

“Shouldn’tyouhavesomekindofuniform?”Joleneasked.“Itmakesthingsseemmoreauthentic.”

“ButI’maspecialagent.Onlytraineeswearuniforms.”

JolenesharedalookwithMelanie.“That’sanewone.”

CameronwasjustabouttosuggestthatWilkinsshowthecousinshisbadge,whenJackwalkedup

thestepsandstoppedinherdoorway.

“Sorrywe’relate,”hesaidwithacurtnod.

The cousins’ mouths dropped open as each of them caught their first glimpse of Jack. He wore

jeansandadarkblazerwithanopen-neckedshirt.Objectively,Cameronknewwhattheysaw:thetall,
dark,whatever-ness;thegorgeousface,blah,blah;thesexy,lean,bodythatwastailor-madeforall
kindsofsin—whocared?Certainlyshewasn’tpayinganyattentiontothosethings.

JolenereachedoutandgrabbedCameronbyhersleeve.Shepulledherofftotheside.

“Holyshit—howmuchdidyouhavetopayforthatone?”shewhispered.

Cameron paused. “You know, the agency didn’t say. Someone should probably ask him what he

chargesforfull-frontal.”

JoleneandMelanielookedateachother.“We’reonit.”

CameronsmiledtoherselfasthecousinsmadetheirwayovertoJack.

Fourteen

“IT’SANEGOTIABLErate.”

Cameron turned around from the cabinet she’d been reaching into and saw Jack standing in the

doorway.

Ittookherasecond,thenshesmiled.“Sorryaboutthat.”

She adjusted her sweater, a thin, deep V-neck black wrap that tied at her waist. When she’d been

reachingfortheglasses,theneckofthesweaterhadslippedoffhershoulder,exposingthecamisole
sheworeunderneath.

Jack said nothing as she pulled the sweater back up. He gestured to the shelf she’d been reaching

for.“Needsomehelp?”Hewalkedoverandsetdownthefilehe’dbeencarryingonthecounterbelow
thecabinet.

“Um...sure.Weneedmoreglasses.And,apparently,Ineedtostartwearingfive-inchheels.”She

pointed.“Theonesontheleft.Ididn’trealizeI’dhavesomanywhitewinedrinkers.”

“Howmanydoyouwant?”

“Twofornow.”

Jackbarelyhadtolifthisarmashepluckedtheglassesofftheshelfandhandedthemtoher.

Cameron took the glasses, surprised that the two of them momentarily had managed to have a

normalconversation.Hopinghewasn’tgoingtosayanythingabouttheothernight,sheturnedaway
andsettheglassesontothecenterisland.

“So,doyouandWilkinsoftencrashbacheloretteparties?”sheaskedasshepouredtwoglassesof

wine.Ifsheactednormal,maybehewould,too,andthentheycouldjustforgetaboutthatoddlittle
encounteronherfrontstoop.

Jackrestedagainstthecounter.“Fortherecord,itwasWilkins’sideatocomeinside.”

“WhereisWilkins,anyway?”Cameronasked.

“Inthelivingroom,beingaccostedbyeighteenwomenwhothinkhe’sastripper.Ithoughtitwas

besttoduckinhere.”

“Somuchforneverleavingamanbehind.”

“Ifhestartsscreaming,I’lllaydownacoverfireandgopullhimout.”Jackheldupthefile.“Ready

todothis?Idon’twanttokeepyoufromyourparty.”

Cameron nodded and took a seat at the counter. Jack began spreading out photographs on the

granite in front of her. He set down the first two photos, then paused, giving her a thorough once-
over.

“What?”sheasked.

“Howmuchhaveyouhadtodrinktonight?”heaskedsuspiciously.

“Notenoughtobeyourconcern.”

Hownice,thescowlingwasback.Cameronhadalmostbeguntomissit.

“Howmuch?”Jackrepeated.

“Just one glass of wine,” she said. “I wasn’t planning on doing a photo lineup in my kitchen

tonight.”

“Whatabouttheshot?”heasked.

“Whatshot?”

“Youknow,fortheunderweargame.”Jackshifteduncomfortably,asifhe’dsaidtoomuch.

Cameron raised an eyebrow. “What do you know about the underwear game, Agent Pallas?” she

asked,mock-interrogationstyle.

Jackscoffed.“MorethanIwantto.Now—thephotographs.”

Heplacedthreemoreinfrontofherbeforepausingagain.“Whathappenstotheunderwearafter

thegame?”

“Thebridekeepsthemforherhoneymoon.”

“Oh.”Hecontinuedonwiththephotographs,aboutfifteentotal.“Nowtakeyourtime,andlookat

eachonecarefully.Maybeit’ssomebodyyousawinanelevator.Orsomeoneyoupassedinthelobby
orinthehallway.Ifwecouldputanyoftheseguysatthehotelonthenightofthemurder,thatwould
beahugebreakinthecase.”

“ItakeitallofthesepeopledenybeingatthePeninsulaonthenightinquestion?”

“At the time of the murder, yes.” Jack pointed to two of the photographs. “These two men are

members of Hodges’s staff: Alex Driscoll, his chief of staff, and Grant Lombard, his bodyguard.

They both say they went to the hotel early the following morning. According to their statements,
HodgescalledthemafterIfinishedinterrogatinghim.”

Cameron focused first on Driscoll and Lombard’s photographs, then went through each of the

others,oneatatime.Whenfinished,shesetthestackbackdown.“I’msorry.Noonelooksfamiliarto
me.”

“Inthepastweek,haveyourememberedanythingelseaboutthemanyousawthatnight?”

Cameronthoughtforamoment—theredidseemtobesomethingthere,somethingrightattheedge

ofhermemory...butwhateveritwas,itremainedjustoutofgrasp.“Ican’tthinkofanythingelse.It
allhappenedsofast.”

Jackranhishandthroughhishairandbrieflyclosedhiseyes.Thegesturesuddenlymadehimseem

so...normal.

“Youlooktired,”shesaid.

Heopenedhiseyes,hisexpressionsofterthanusual.“Justalongcoupleofdays.”

“Thereyouare.”Amystrolledintothekitchen.“Cameron—what’sthisaboutanunderweargame?I

don’trecallthatbeingonthelistofapprovedactivities.”

“Talktoyourcousins—itwastheiridea.”

“Asmaidofhonor,it’syoursworndutytotakechargeofthesekindsofthings.”

Cameronlaughed.“Myswornduty?Youdorealizehowcrazyyou’vebecomewithallthis,right?”

“Oh,I’mtotallyoffthedeependatthispoint.”AmyturnedherattentiontoJack.“AgentPallas...

hownicetomeetyouinperson.Irecognizeyoufromthattimeyouwereonthenews,ofcourse.Gee,
whatwasthatfor?Oh,right—whenyoutoldhalftheworldthatmybestfriendhadherheadupher
ass.”

JackturnedtoCameron.“Doyoujustlinethemup,waitingtoyellatme,ontheoffchanceI’llstop

by?”

“No,butthat’sareallygoodideafornexttime.”CameronexplainedtoAmy,“HemetCollinlast

Sunday.”

“Ooh—whodoesabetterAngryFriend?MeorCollin?”

“Greatstarts.Thenyoubothfizzledoutattheend.”

“Damn.”

Outofthecornerofhereye,CameronwasprettysureshesawJacktryingnottosmile.

“IshouldprobablygograbWilkins,”hesaid.“Ifhehearstheunderweargameisstarting,I’llnever

gethimoutofhere.Cameron—thanksforyourtime.Icanseemyselfout.”

AmywaiteduntilJackhadleftthekitchen.“Hecouldbarelykeephiseyesoffyouinthatcamisole.”

Cameronlookeddownandsawhersweaterhadfallenoffhershoulderagain.Thestupidthinghad

lostitsshapeaftershetriedhandwashinginsteadofdrycleaningit.Shepulleditup.“Ididn’tseehim
lookatmeonce.”

“Helookedwhenyouweretalkingtome,”Amysaid.“Bytheway,AgentWilkinssuggestedthathe

andJackgowithustothebarinsteadofthoseguysoutfront.”

Cameronpointedfirmly.“No.”

“It’stoolate.Ialreadysaidyes.”

“Whyintheworldwouldyoudothat?”

“BecauseI’mcurioustoseehowthisallplaysouttonight.IwasstandingonthestairswhenJack

firstshowedupatthedoor,andIsawthewayyoulookedathim,Cam.”

Cameron threw her hands up in frustration. “What is this so-called ‘look’?” Whatever it was, she

wasgoingtohavetostarttakingextrememeasurestoguardagainstit.

Amy grinned. “You know the Tom and Jerry cartoon where Tom hasn’t eaten for days and he

imaginesJerrylookinglikeaham?Kindoflikethat.”

“ABSOLUTELYNOT.”

JackstoodonCameron’sfrontstoop,arguingwithWilkins.Partnersornot,hehadtodrawtheline

somewhere.Nomorebacheloretteparty,nomoregamesinvolvingunderwear,nomoreCameronin
that black sweater, gray silky camisole, and pencil-thin skirt that showed off many, many inches of
her sleek legs. Any more of that, and he might start getting a little fuzzy on all the reasons why he
didn’tlikeher.

“Toolate.IalreadytoldPhelpsandKaminthatwe’dcoverCameronforthenextcoupleofhours,”

Wilkinssaid.

Jack checked. Their car was still parked on the street. “They haven’t left yet. I’ll tell them we’re

goingbacktotheoriginalplan.”

“HaveyoueverbeentoManorHouse,Jack?”

Hescoffedatthequestion.“Ourassignmenthereisn’ttogetintosomehotclub.”

“I’lltakethatasano,”Wilkinssaid.“I’vebeenthere.Openedjustacouplemonthsago.It’sbig—

threestories.Originallyamansionbuiltattheturnofthecentury.Youknowthoseoldhouses.Lotsof
rooms and hallways. And dark corners, too, especially since the club keeps the lights low for the
ambience.Tonsofplacesforsomeonetohide.Theclubwillbepacked,andthemusicwillbeloud.
It’dbereallyeasyforapersontofindherselfintroubleinaplacelikethat,iftherightpeoplearen’t
watching out for her.” Wilkins expression was serious. “Cameron’s my witness, too. Kamin and
Phelps are good guys, but this is the kind of assignment I’d rather handle on my own. If you don’t
mind.”

Jackremainedsilent,needingafewsecondstofinishchewingthebigpieceofhumblepiehe’djust

beenserved.

“Caughtyouoffguardwiththatone,didn’tI?”Wilkinsgrinned,backtobeingWilkins.

“Let’snotmaketoobigadealoutofit.Shockingly,onceadecadeorso,evenIcanbewrong.”

ATTENO’CLOCKthatevening,GrantwaitedinhiscaratthelocationMr.Blackhadgivenhim.The

address had turned out to be an abandoned warehouse on the city’s west side. It took about five
minutesofwaitingbeforeitoccurredtohimthatthewarehousewasthesameonethathadbeeninthe
news three years ago, the site of the legendary shoot-out between Jack Pallas and Martino’s men.
Also,ifrumorwastrue,thesitewherePallashadbeentorturedfortwodaysbeforeescaping.

Grant grew uneasy. It was possible he was being set up. Then he discarded the thought, finding it

more likely that Mr. Black had chosen the location as a reminder of what happened to those who
betrayedMartino.Notthathehadanysuchintentions.

Hehadkilledawoman.

Grant wasn’t particularly bothered by this fact, if anything he was more annoyed by the

inconvenienceofhavingtocleanupthemesshe’dleftbehind.Hehadturnedacorner—inhislineof
work he’d dealt with many an unsavory character, but doing business with the likes of Roberto
Martino’smenwasanentirelydifferentmatter.Unfortunately,itwasanecessaryevilgiventheFBI’s
involvementinthemurderinvestigation.Hefeltconfidentthathecould’vehandledthesituationhad
onlytheChicagopolicedepartmentbeeninvolved.ButheworriedaboutJackPallasandwhateverit
wasthattheFBIagentknew.

Hedidn’tlikehavingtoworryaboutthesethings.

GrantheardthecrunchofgravelandsawablackMercedespullupinfrontofthewarehouse.He

gotoutofhiscarandwalkedover.

ThedooroftheMercedesopened,andthedrivergotout.Grantgrinned.Martinoreallydidhave

friendsinhighplaces.

“Mr.U.S.Attorney.Howironicthatweshouldmeetunderthesecircumstances.”

Silas Briggs glanced around, looking both annoyed and nervous. Martino must’ve kept him on a

verytightleash.

“Thisisn’thowIusuallydothings,Lombard,”hesaid.

Grant leaned casually against the Mercedes. “It’s a first for me, too. But the senator needs your

assistance,andI’vebeentoldbyMr.Blackthatyoucouldbehelpful.”

“Whatisitthesenatorislookingfor?”

“Information.TheFBIishidingsomething,andweneedtoknowwhatthatis.”

Silas laughed scornfully. “So Hodges really killed that girl, huh? Hell, I didn’t think he had it in

him.Andyou’restuckwithcleanupdutynow,isthatit?”

“Somethinglikethat.”

SilaslookedGrantovercarefully.“Hmm...ormaybeit’snotthesenatoratall.Maybeyou’vegot

amessofyourownthatneedstobecleanedup.”

Granttookastepcloser.“Maybeyoushouldn’tasksomanyquestions.Maybeinsteadyoushould

justtellmeabouttheRobardsmurderinvestigation.”

Silasmadeabigshowoftryingnottolooknervous,butGrantcouldseeitinhiseyes.Noballs.

Frankly,hewasanembarrassmenttohisoffice.HedoubtedittookmuchforMartinotobuyhimoff.

“Thatinvestigationisbeingkeptconfidential,”Silassaid.

“Gladtohearit.NowcutthecrapandtellmewhatPallasknows.”

GrantsawbeadsofsweatformingonSilas’sforehead.

“Itoldyou,it’sconfidential.EvenI’mnotintheloop.”

“Whydon’tIbelieveyou?”Grantasked.“I’dhatetohavetoleakittothepressthatChicago’sU.S.

attorneyhasbeenacceptingbribesfromoneofthecountry’sbiggestcrimelords.”

Moresweat.ArivulettrickleddownSilas’shairline.

Grantcockedhishead.Thiswasgettinginteresting.“What’swiththehesitation?”

Silasclearedhisthroat.“There’sawitness.”

Grant’sself-preservationinstinctsimmediatelykickedinandthecoldblueflameofangerwasback.

Awitness.

HegrabbedSilasbythecollarandwassatisfiedwhenhesawthelookofsurpriseandfearinhis

eyes.

“Whatdoesthiswitnessknow?”henearlyspatinhisface.

“I don’t know. That’s the truth,” Silas stammered. “Pallas is protecting her. That’s all I know. I

swear.”

Her.Soitwasawoman.Anotherfuckingwoman.

GrantcurledhisfingerstighteraroundSilas’scollar.“What’shername?”

WhenSilascontinuedtostall,Grantgavehimanothershakeforgoodmeasure.“Answerme.”

Silasswallowed.

“CameronLynde.”

Fifteen

AS SOON AS they arrived at Manor House, thanks to the reservation Cameron had made several
weeks prior (and, possibly, also thanks to a flash of Jack’s trusty FBI badge) their entire party was
shuffledinsideandpromptlyescortedtotheVIProom.

JackwalkedbyCameron’ssidealongthecandelabra-lithallway,takingintheirsurroundings.

“Interestingplace,”hesaid.

Indeed it was. Manor House fit true to its name. The club had several rooms on each of its three

floors,andeveryroomcontinuedtheturn-of-the-centurythemeintheoriginalstyleofthemansion.
Therewasalibrary,astudy,andevenabilliardroom.KindofliketheboardgameClue,Cameron
hadjokedtoCollin,afterdroppingbytochecktheplaceoutforthebacheloretteparty.

As she knew from the tour she’d been given when she made the reservation, the VIP room—the

“mastersuite”—wasupstairs.Theirpartyclimbedupthewideoakstaircase,withWilkinsinthelead
andJackandCameronbringinguptherear.WhentheygottothetopandsteppedintotheVIProom,
shesawaglimmerofamusementinJack’seyes.

“Very interesting.” He focused on the ornate wood canopied king-sized bed—yes, a bed—in the

corneroftheroom.

Cameron watched as Amy and the other girls headed over, settled themselves on the bed, and got

downtotheseriousbusinessofdrinkorders.ThecousinsstartedholleringforButteryNippleshots.

“Igivetheplaceayearbeforethenoveltywearsoff,”shetoldJack.

Amystrodeoverandstuckoutherhand.“LookwhatJolenejustgaveme.”Sheheldoutabeaded

necklacewithlittleplasticpenisesandcondompacketstapedtoit.

“Oh,look—it’sjustwhatyoualwayswanted.Apenisnecklace.Maybethatcanbeyoursomething

newforthewedding,”Cameronsuggested.

“Getridofit,”Amysaid.“Andmakesuretherearen’tanyothers.”

“I’llgetrightonit.”BothCameronandJackwatchedasAmyhurriedbacktothebedanddemanded

thatallthegirlsopentheirpursesforinspection.

“Sheseemsalittle...intenseaboutallthis,”Jacksaid.

Cameronstuckthepenisnecklaceintoherpurse.“It’saphase.Thankfullyonethatwillbeoverina

week,afterthewedding.She’sactuallyaverysweetperson.”Notthatshewasgoingtobringthisup
rightthen,butafterherfatherhaddied,Amyhadbeenagodsend.Beingtheonlychildofparentswho
had divorced years ago, all the responsibility for her father ’s funeral arrangements had fallen on
Cameron.Inheremotionalstate,she’dbeenoverwhelmedbythetask,tosaytheleast.Withoutsaying
aword,Amyhadshownuponherdoorstepwithasuitcase,movedinfortwoweeks,andhadtaken
care of everything Cameron couldn’t handle on her own. In exchange, Cameron figured she could
dealwiththebridezillaroutine.

Wilkinscameovertothem,carryingwhatCameronguessedwasaclubsoda.“Inevermadeittothe

VIProomthelasttimeIwashere.”Hestaredatthewaitresswhopassedbywithabottleofvodkalit
up with sparklers. “No one told me that they’ve got waitresses dressed up like turn-of-the-century
maids.Ooh—withsparklythings.”

CamerontiltedherheadinconcessionatJack.“Maybetwoyearsbeforethenoveltywearsoff.”

“NOWTHISISwhatIcallanassignment.”

Jackgesturedtothebartenderforanotherclubsoda.“Soakitinwhileyoucan,”hesaidtoWilkins.

“Becausethey’renotalllikethis.”

“Really,thisisbetterthanNebraska?”Wilkinsjoked.

JackcaughtsightofCameron,sittingonthebedacrosstheroom.ShewaslaughingwithAmyand

two of the other girls while telling a story. As she gestured, the neck of her belted sweater slipped
down, once again exposing her shoulder and the thin strap of her camisole. He watched as she
reached forward to put her hand on Amy’s arm and her camisole dipped lower, revealing a hint of

whatappearedtobealacyblackbra.“It’snotallbad,Isuppose,”hefoundhimselfmurmuring.

Heturnedbackandcaughthispartner ’sexpression.“Don’tsayit.”

“Saywhat?”Wilkinsaskedinnocently.“Oh...youmeanIshouldn’tcommentonthefactthatyou

haven’ttakenyoureyesoffhersincewegothere?IsthatwhatI’mnotsupposedtotalkabout?”

“It’smyjob—ourjob—towatchher.”

Wilkinsnodded.“Ofcourse.”

Jackmutteredunderhisbreath.AtleastinNebraskaamancouldglanceatawomanonceortwice

—forprofessionalreasons—inpeace.

Hestoleanotherlook,forsecuritypurposes,andwatchedasthesweateronceagainslidawayfrom

hercollarbone,inchingdown,tauntinghim,teasinghim,dippinglowerandlower,revealingcreamy
ivoryskinandthatdelicategraysilkstraphecouldripawaywithhisteeth.

Ashoulder.Hewasgoingcrazyoverafuckingshoulder.

Heswore,turningtoWilkins.“What’sthedealwiththatsweater,anyway?Isthereareasonshecan’t

keepherselfclothed?Didshebuythewrongsize?Seriously,somebodyneedstothrowacoatover
that woman.” He shoved away from the bar. “I’m going to walk the room. Make sure everything is
stillsecure.”

AMYLEANEDOVERandwhisperedinCameron’sear.“Okay,nowhe’spacingbackandforth.”

“You don’t have to give me the play-by-play,” Cameron whispered back. “If I want to know what

he’sdoing,I’lljustlookmyself.”

Of course, that’s exactly what she did. She snuck a quick glance across the room and watched as

Jackdidalooparoundthebar,thenlookedback.Whenhesawherwatchinghim,heturnedandbegan
crossing the room toward her, like a panther stalking its prey. From the intense look in his eyes—
whateverhewasabouttosay—hewasamanonamission.

Sitting next to her, Amy was wide-eyed, mesmerized at the sight of Jack heading over in all his

seeminglypissed-off-once-againglory.“Ichangedmymind,Cam.Ifthiswasallabigsetupandhe’s
comingovertostripforme,IthinkIcanhandleit.Idefinitelycanhandleit.”

HearingAmy’swords,theothergirlsstoppedtalking.Followinghergaze,theyturnedtowatchas

Jack approached. He stopped in front of the bed of women who lounged about like a sultan’s idle
haremandstareddownatCameron.

“Iwanttotalktoyou.”

“Okay.Talk.”

“Alone.”

Camerondidn’tlikebeingorderedaroundbyJack,butshedidn’twanttomakeasceneincasehe

neededtodiscusssomesecurityissue.Withanonchalantlook,sheslidoffthebed—oopsie,another
flashofleg,strangehowthatkepthappeningaroundhim—andfollowedJackoutoftheVIProom.

Hetookherbythearmandledherthroughthehallwayintoabarelylitcorridor.

“You’renotgoingtokillme,areyou?”sheasked.Fromthelookonhisface,shewasonlypartially

teasing.

“Nottoday.”

Hereleasedhisgripandpacedthecorridorinfrontofher.Cameronhadnoideawhathewasso

workedupabout,butshelookedhimovercloselyrightthenandwassatisfiedtosaythathelooked
nothinglikeahamtoher.

Morelikeachocolatemoltenlavacake.Adessertsosinful,soluscious,sofilledwithinnerheatit

madeagirlwanttolickeachandeverycrumbrightofftheplate.ThatwasJackPallas.

Cameronregrouped.“SoamIsupposedtoguess,ordoyouwanttotellmewhatthisisallabout?”

“Ithinkyouknow.”

Oh,balls.HewasgoingtobringupTheThingThatNeverHappenedonherdoorstep.

“Theinvestigation?”sheaskedhopefully.

HethrewheradarklookthatremindedherwhyJackPallaswasnotamantobetrifledwith.

Sheleanedagainstthewall,thinkingshemightaswellmakeherselfcomfortable.Jackstoppedhis

pacing.Hiseyesranoverher.

“We’regoingtofinishthattalkofoursfromtheothernight.”Hecrossedthehallandputoneofhis

handsonthewallnexttoher.“YousaidthatIsawwhatIwantedtoseethatmorningatDavis’soffice.
Explain.”

Cameron stared up at Jack defiantly. Ha—like he could intimidate her into talking. Well, he

probably could; he could probably get anyone to talk eventually. But she was decidedly immune to
any of his so-called sexual char—wow, he smelled fantastic. His shampoo, perhaps? Couldn’t be
aftershave,withthatI-just-rolled-out-of-bedscruffofhis.

Decidedlyimmune.

“We’rebacktothisagain?”Cameronasked,feigningdisinterest.

Jackputhissecondhandonthewalltotheothersideofher,trappingherin.

Sheeyedherpredicament.Witsdon’tfailmenow.“Ithinkthisconstitutesfalseimprisonment,Agent

Pallas.”

“Probably.AndI’mabouttothrowinanillegalinterrogation.”Hepeereddownintohereyes.“Let’s

start at the beginning. Three years ago. Martino. You told me the decision not to file charges was
yours.”

“You think we’re going to have this conversation now? Like this?” Cameron gestured to their

closeness.

Slowly,Jackgrinned.Hisvoicewaswarmernow,whisky-rich.“Actually,Ithinkthisisperfect.”But

his gaze remained unwavering. “Start talking, Cameron. I saw you come out of Davis’s office that
morning.Whywereyouth—”

Theywereplungedintodarknessasallthelightsintheclubwentout.

CameronfeltJack’shandgripherarm.Shefelthisotherhandbrushagainstherchestashereached

underneathhisblazerforhisgun.

Hereyestriedtoadjusttothedarkness,andsheheardsquealsoflaughterandmixedvoicescoming

fromtheVIProom.Despitethat,theclubseemedquiet.Ittookheramomenttorealizethemusichad
stopped.

“Thepowerwentout?”sheaskedJack.

“Seemsthatway.”Therewasthesoundofapproachingfootstepsandacreakingfloorboard.Jack

pulledherawayfromthewall.“Getbehindme,”heorderedher.Heturned,gunready.

Ashadowstoodattheendofthehall.

Jackshifted,usinghisbodyasashieldtocoverher.

“Jack—it’sme,”Wilkinssaidthroughthedark.“Youtwoallright?”

Jackloweredhisgun.HeledCameronoutofthecorridor,wherethemoonlightstreamedthrough

thewindowsandallowedhertoseebetter.

“Isthepoweroutintheentireplace?”heasked.

“FromwhatIcantell,”Wilkinssaid.HiseyesfellonCameron.

ShehadneverseenWilkinslooksoserious.That,morethananything,scaredher.

“Doyouthinkthishassomethingtodowithme?”sheasked.

Neitherofthemenansweredher.“Gocheckitout,”JacktoldWilkins.“I’llstaywithher.Callmeon

mycellwhenyouknowsomething.”

Wilkinsnoddedandtookoff.

JackslippedhishandintoCameron’s.“Stayclosetome.”

Herheadwasspinningwithhowfasteverythinghadchanged.Sheforcedherselftostaycalm.

“I’mtakingyoutoamoresecurelocationuntilwegetthissortedout,”Jacksaid.

Ashebegantoleadheraway,theynearlyranintoAmy,whostoodinthedoorwayoftheVIProom.

HereyesfellonJack’sgun.“What’sgoingon?Whereareyoutakingher?”

“Weneedtomovenow,”JacksaidlowinCameron’sear.

“Everything’sfine,”shetoldAmy.“Juststaywiththeothergirls.”

Beforeshecouldsayanythingelse,Jacktookherbythearmandledheraway.

NAVIGATINGHISWAYthroughthedark,JackledCameronthroughthemazeofpeoplehangingout
inthehallway.Peoplewho,unlikehim,enjoyedthethrillofthepoweroutage.

Heneededaconfinedspace,preferablyonewithalockonthedoor.

Havingnosuchluckonthesecondfloor,hefoundabackstaircaseandledCameronupstairs.The

firstdoorontherightwasshut.Hepusheditopenandbargedin.

Theroomwassmall.Anoffice.Amanandascantilycladwomansprangapartatthedesk.

“Whatthehell?”themanasked,halfpissed,halfstartled.

“Whoareyou?”Jackdemanded.

“Themanager.Whothefuckareyou?”

Jackgesturedtothedoor.“Getout.”

“Screwthat.Thisismyoffice.”

Jackgesturedtothedoor,thistimewithhisgun.“Getout.”

Themanager ’smouthfellopenandhenodded.“We’regoing.”Hegrabbedthegirlandhurriedout.

Jack locked the deadbolt on the door behind them. He let go of Cameron’s hand so that he could

check out the room. A small loveseat along the south wall, a steel file cabinet, and a desk with one
rolling chair. No closets or other doors, but there was a large window that led out onto the fire
escape.Hetestedthewindowandsawitroseeasilyenough.Incaseofanemergency,itwoulddo.

RealizingthatCameronhadfallenquiet,heheadedover.“Areyouokay?”

“I’mokay.”Shepacedaroundtheroomrestlessly.

“Stayawayfromthedoor,”Jacktoldher.“Andthewindows.Sticktothecenteroftheroom.”

“Right.Sorry.”Shemovedquicklytowardthedesk,puttingitbetweenherandthedoor.Sheglanced

down at her purse, then set it on the desk, as if wanting her hands free. “This is probably just a
coincidence,right?”

“I’lltellyouthatwhenIknowit.”

In the moonlight, Jack saw her bite her lip anxiously. Then she put on a brave face and nodded.

“Fairenough.”

Jackfeltsomethingpullathim.

“But if it makes you feel better, I don’t give a fuck what comes through that door. They’re not

gettingtoyou.”

She gazed at him through the dark, surprised. Turning away, he walked over to the door and

listened.

Presumablyfollowinghislead,Cameronfellsilent.Theroomwaseerilyquietuntilthesoundof

hisvibratingcellphonecutthroughthetension.

Jackgrabbedthephoneoutofhispocket,sawitwasWilkins,andanswered.“Talktome.”

“We’reallclear.”

“What’dyoufindout?”heasked,notyetabandoninghispostatthedoor.

“Thepowerisoutfortheentireblock,”Wilkinssaid.“IhadourofficepatchmethroughtoComEd,

whosaidthey’vegotapowerlinedown.They’vegotateamworkingonitaswespeak.”

Jackstrodeovertothewindow,lookedoutside,andsawthatthebuildingsaroundthemweredark

aswell.Hespokeintothephoneinalowvoice.“Anychancethisisasetup?”

“Not likely. I talked to both the director in charge of the district and the foreman on site. It’s an

undergroundpowerline—anovernightconstructioncrewgotsloppytryingtofixthewaterpipesto
thatchurchacrossthestreetanddugalittletoodeep.It’sjustacoincidence,Jack.”

Throughthewindow,JackcouldseetheconstructioncrewoutsidethechurchandseveralComEd

trucks. He looked over at Cameron. Her eyes stayed with him as she listened to his end of the
conversation.“Thanks.We’llmeetyoubackattheVIProom.”

“Whereareyouguysnow?”Wilkinsasked.

“Inanofficeonthethirdfloor.Weshouldbedowninjustafewminutes.”Hehungupthephone

andholsteredhisgun.“We’reclear.”

Cameron exhaled. “Okay. Good. That was definitely not on the agenda for tonight.” She self-

consciouslysmoothedherskirtandpickedupherpurse.“Sowe’regoingtorejointheothers,then?”

“Yes.”

She headed toward the door and Jack followed her. She reached for the handle, then paused and

lookedoverhershoulder.Thesweaterslippedoffhershoulderonceagain.

“Thankyoufor—”Shestopped.“What’swrong?”

Jack stood behind her, staring at that damn gray strap. He caught himself wondering what was

softer, the silk or her skin. If he was a smart man, he wouldn’t dare to even think about getting the
answertothat.

Hereachedouttoheranyway.

Hetookholdofhersweaterandgentlypulleditoverhershoulder.Hestoppedwhenhereachedthe

strapofhercamisole.“Thisthinghasbeendrivingmecrazyallnight,”hemurmured.

Cameron’svoicesoundedalittleshaky.“I...thinkIruineditthelasttimeIdidlaundry.”

Theairhungthickbetweenthem.

“Weshouldgo,”Jackfinallysaid.Heneededtogetoutofthatofficebeforehedidsomethinghe

regretted.Somethingtheybothregretted.

Shenodded,turnedback,andunlockedthedeadbolt.Shegrabbedthedoorknob...thenstopped.

Jackwaitedforhertoopenthedoor.Whenshedidn’t,hereachedaroundher,placinghishandover

hers.“Cameron,wehavetogetoutofhere,”hesaidinagutturalvoice.

“Iknow.”

Still,neitherofthemmoved.Jacktookhishandoffhersandmovedittothedeadbolt.

Heknewheshouldn’t.

Buthelockedthedooranyway.

HeheardCameroninhaleunsteadily.Beforehecouldgiveitasecondthought,hebrushedherlong

hairoffhershoulderandbenthisheadtokisshercollarbone.

Hegothisanswer.Silkdidn’tholdafuckingcandletoherskin.

WITHASOFTmoan,CameronsankagainstJack’schest.Shebrieflywonderedwhatshewasdoing,
andwhy.ThenshefeltJack’slipsburnapathalongherneckanddecidedtotablethoseissuesfora
moment.

His hands moved to her hips and she didn’t know if he spun her around or if she turned herself,

maybe both, but suddenly she found herself facing him. She caught the hot glint in his eyes and
reachedforhimjustashismouthcamedownonhers.

SheexpectedJack’skisstobehard,angryeven,butinsteaditwasjust...wicked.Hetookhistime,

tastingherwithhismouth,hislips,andhistongue.Whenhishandmovedtothesmallofherbackand
pressed her closer, Cameron dropped her purse to the floor and threaded her fingers through his
thickhair.

Theyslammedagainstthedoor.

Jack’shandmovedtoherchinashismouthexploredhersroughly.Sensinghisneedforcontrolbut

notyetwillingtogiveittohim,Cameroncuppedhisfacewithherhandsandslowedthekiss.Setting
thepace,sheteasedhim,bitinggentlyathisbottomlipandslidinghertonguelightlyalonghis.She
diditagain,playingwithhim,takingcharge.

Hegrowledlowinhisthroat,thengrabbedherhandsandpinnedthemagainstthedoor.

ToolatesherecalledthatJackPallaswasnotamantobetrifledwith.

He wound his tongue around hers in a kiss that was rich and drugging. He settled between her

thighs, and Cameron felt his hard, thick erection pressing into her. He could hide nearly every
emotionbehindthatwallofhis,buthisbodybetrayedhimrightthen,tellinghertheonlythingshe
neededtoknow.

Hewantedher.

Heady with that knowledge, Cameron closed her eyes as Jack blazed a trail with his mouth along

herthroat.Thescruffofhisjawscratchedagainstherneck,aneroticsensationthatseteverynerveof
herbodyonfire.

“Jack,”shewhispered.

“Tellme,”hesaidinherear.

ThiswasanewsideofJack.Gonewastheguarded,controlledexterior.Foronce,shewasseeing..

.him.

Cameron strained against him, helpless with her hands pinned in his. “Let me touch you.” She

neededtosee—feel—moreofhim.

Hepulledbackandlethiseyesroamoverher,soakingineveryinch.Heletgoofherhandsand

watched as she pushed his blazer off. She slid her hands past his shoulder harness, feeling the taut
musclesofhischest.Shefounditintoxicating,havingsuchpowerandstrengthliterallybeneathher
fingertips.

“Thisworksbothways,baby,”Jacksaidinahuskyvoice.

Hetookhermouthinakisssodemandingitleftherbreathless.Hishandsworkedimpatientlyashe

unbuttonedhersweaterandpusheditoffhershoulders.

“Ineedtoseeyou,”hemutteredagainsthermouth.

Hepulleddownthefrontofhercamisoleandthecupofherbra,andCamerongaspedasthecool

airhitherexposedbreast.Hestrokedhernipplebetweenhisfingers,toyingwithituntilshetrembled.
Whenhecuppedherbreastandplumpeditupforhim,Cameronarchedintohishandeagerly.Then
heloweredhisheadandtookhernippleintohismouth.

Liquidheatcoiledbetweenherlegssofastshenearlysanktothefloorrightthere.Jackslowlydrew

his tongue over the tight peak, first being gentle while he licked, then taking the rosy tip into his
mouth hungrily. Meanwhile, his hand slid underneath her shirt and his fingers began to caress her
otherbreast.

Cameronfeltexposedyetalsoincrediblysensual.Andwhileavoiceinsideherheadtoldherthat

sheneededtostop,anothervoice,adevilishone,toldhertogiveinforonce,toletgo.

Jack pulled her camisole lower, his mouth on the hunt for her other breast. Cameron moaned,

knowingwhichvoicehadjustgainedtheupperhand.

Thenaloudknockontheothersideofthedoorstartledthem.BothsheandJackjumped.

TheyheardAmy’svoice.“Cameron?Areyouinthere?”

CameronandJackfrozeasthedoorhandleturnedatherhip.

Amycalledthroughthedooragain.“Cameron?Areyouallright?”Shespoketosomeoneoutin

thehallway.“YousaidtheyweresupposedtomeetusbackattheVIProom,right?”

Wilkins’svoice.“That’swhatJacksaid.”

“Tryhimonhiscellphoneagain.”

Jack’scellphonebegantovibratefromtheblazerCameronhadthrownontothefloor.Shepeered

upathim.Somethingpassedbetweenthem...thenslippedaway.

They unwound and separated. Jack grabbed his blazer off the ground to answer his phone. As he

toldWilkinsthattheywerefineandwouldbeoutmomentarily,Camerongrabbedherpurseoffthe
floorandmovedawayfromthedoor,pullingupthefrontofhercamisoleandadjustingherbra.She
walkedovertothewindow,gratefulforthedarknessthatcoveredtheawkwardnessofthesituation.

ShewasbeltinghersweaterwhenJackspokefromacrosstheroom.

“Thestrapofyourshirtistorn,”hesaidsoftly.

“I know.” She tucked the strap inside her shirt, hoping the other one would hold. If not, Amy and

Wilkinsweregoingtogetquiteaneyeful.Herlipsfeltbruisedandswollen,notthattherewasmuch
shecoulddoaboutthat.Shemovedtothedoor.

“You’reready?”Jackasked.

“Sure, I’m fine.” Actually, that wasn’t true, but with people waiting outside there wasn’t time to

analyzeheremotions.Sheknewitwastheperfecttimeforaquiporajoke,anythingthatwouldget
herfeelinglikeherselfagainandbringherandJackbacktofamiliarground.Butshecouldn’tdoit
rightthen.“Weshouldgetoutthere.”

Jack seemed to hesitate at first. Then he switched over to all-business mode and opened the door.

She passed by him to step out into the hallway and for a fleeting second their eyes met—the only
recognitionofwhathadhappenedbetweenthem.

AmywaitedintheshadowyhallwaywithWilkins.Theybothlookedconfusedatfirst,thenamused.

Camerontriedtoplayitcasualasshewalkedover.“Wewerewaitingtomakesureeverythingwas

safe.”

Amypulledhertotheside.“Iwasworriedwhenthetwoofyoudidn’tshowupdownstairs.”

“Iknow.I’msorry.”

Amylookedherover.“That’sanewwayofwearingthatshirt.”

Cameronglanceddownandsawherexposedshoulder.Nowmissingonegraysilkcamisolestrap.

Shewasgoingtoburnthestupidsweaterassoonasshegothome.

Sixteen

CAMERONHEARDTHEknockonherdoorandlookedupfromhercomputer.RobMerrocko,an
assistantU.S.attorneywiththeofficenexttohers,openedthedoorandpokedhisheadin.

“How’dthearraignmentgotoday?”

“Heplednotguilty,asexpected,”Cameronsaid.“That’llchange.Ajurywouldconvictthisguyin

allofabouttwoseconds.”Thedefendant,ayouthsoccercoachfromoneofthenorthernsuburbs,had
beenchargedwithreceivingchildpornographyonhiscomputer.Ifhislawyerhadanounceofsense
inhim,he’dneverletthecasegototrial.

Itwasanuglycase,andoneofthefewshefounddifficulttokeepacoolheadabout.Justbeingin

thesamecourtroomasthedefendanthadleftherfeelingdisgustedandemotionallydrained.

“Whydoyoustilltakethesekindsofcases?”Robaskedher.“Pawnitoffononeofthenewguys.”

Notreallyherstyleofdoingthings,butCameronmanagedasmile,appreciatingthesympathy.“I’ll

beallright.”Sheranherhandsthroughherhairtiredlyandeasedbackinherchair.“Howarethings
onyourend?”

“Ijustindictedanaldermanforbribery.”

“Nice,”Cameronsaidapprovingly.“Let’stalkaboutthatinstead.”

Forthenextfewminutes,theyswappedcaseloadhorrorstories,gossipedaboutaparticularlyill-

tempered judge in their district, and discussed which law clerk they should assign the ignominious
taskofcleaningthetrialpreproom.TheywereinterruptedbyacallfromCameron’ssecretary.

“Collin’sheretoseeyou,”shesaidwhenCameronanswered.Nolastnamewasnecessary;inthe

lastfouryears,hersecretaryhadbecomefamiliarwithCollin’sfrequentvisits.

“Thanks,sendhimback.”ShenoddedatRob,whowavedgood-byeonhiswayout.Abouttwenty

secondslater,hewasreplacedbyCollin.

“Yousoundedterribleonthephone,”hesaidfromthedoorway,referringtothequickconversation

they’dhadaboutanhourago.“I’mheretokidnapyou.”

“Ihadatoughdayincourt.”Cameroncheckedherwatch.“It’sfouro’clock.Ican’tleaveworknow.

Itwouldbe...indecent.”

Collin laughed. “You’re running yourself ragged these days between work, Amy’s bachelorette

party, and that other business we can’t talk about here. You need a break. Come on, counselor—I’ll
treatyoutoaflightat404WineBar.”

Itwastempting.Cameroneyedhimknowingly.“Youjustfinishedacolumn,didn’tyou?”Shecould

alwaystell.

“Is it so wrong to want to spend quality time with my best friend when she’s had a rough day?”

Collinaskedinnocently.“AsforwhetherIalsohappenedtobeparticularlyinsightfulandwittywhile
writingtoday,well,you’lljusthavetoseeforyourselfintomorrow’spaper.It’llbethebigcolumn
aboutsportsstuffundermypicture.”

Cameron threw him a wry grin—very funny. Yet despite the pile of work she had stacked on her

desk,andalsodespitethefactthatshesensedthatCollinwasinanotheroneofhisgod-among-men
insufferablemoods,shethoughtthatadrinkwithherbestfrienddidn’tsoundliketoobadofanidea
rightthen.

Soforthefirsttimeinherfouryearsasaprosecutor,sheshockedeveryoneintheoffice,including

herself,byleavingearly.

OFFICERHARPERENTEREDthekitchen,havingfinishedhischeckofthesecondandthirdfloors
ofCameron’shouse.

“We’reallclear.”Helookedathispartner,OfficerRegan,whohadcheckedthemainlevel.“You

good?”

Regannodded.“We’regood.”

Cameronfollowedthemtothedoorandlockeditbehindthem.

“Sowhatdotheydonow?”Collinasked.He’dtakenaseatatthecounterwhilethecopshaddone

theirwalk-through.

“They’llfollowustothebarandwaitoutsideuntilthenightshiftshowsup.”

“Why do I get the feeling that things are more interesting when Jack Pallas is around?” Collin

teased.

“ThingswithJackhavegottenalittle...complicatedlately,”Cameronsaid.

“Complicated” was certainly one way to describe it. On Saturday night, after she and Jack had

rejoined Wilkins, Amy, and the rest of the bachelorette party, they’d barely said two words to each
other—the two words on her part being “thank you” after he and Wilkins made sure the house was
securewhentheydroppedherandAmyoff,andthetwowordsonhispartbeing“you’rewelcome.”
Shehadn’theardfromnorseenJacksince.

Which was just fine with her. Really. Over the last five days she’d had time to sort through her

emotions. Sure, she and Jack had done Those Things She’d Never Admit in a random office in a
nightclub,butshe’ddecidedthiswasallsimplypartofthatpost-traumaticstressshe’dbeenfighting
offlately.She’dbeenonsomecrazedhighaftertheexcitementofthepoweroutage,hadgottenriled
up,andJackjusthappenedtobethere.Withhismouthonherbreasts.

Tellme.

Letmetouchyou.

Cameronfeltalittleflushedeverytimeshethoughtbacktothatevening.Apparently,therewasone

levelonwhichsheandJackhadnoproblemcommunicatingopenly.

ShefilledCollininontheeventsofSaturdaynight,leavingoutthemostracyparts.Whichwasodd,

because normally she told Collin everything. But some of the things between her and Jack felt . . .
private.

“SoundslikeImissedquiteaparty,”Collinsaidwhenshe’dfinished.“SowheredoyouandJackgo

fromhere?”

“Nowhere,” Cameron said with emphasis. Hadn’t he been paying attention to the post-traumatic

stresspart?She’dmentionedthatpointatleastsixtimes.“Saturdaynightwasnothing.Afluke.”

Collinthrewheraskepticallook.“Babe,Ihopeyou’reatleastfoolingyourselfwiththat.”

Nope, not really. “All right. So I’m physically attracted to Jack,” Cameron conceded. It was a big

stepforhertoadmiteventhatmuchoutloud.“Whowouldn’tbe?You’veseenhim.”

“Ruggedhotness,sexinashoulderharness—yep,I’mfamiliar.”

“Right.ButIcanconqueraphysicalattraction.Imean,hetoldthirtymillionpeopleIhadmyhead

upmyass.Whatkindofself-respectingwomanwouldIbeifIfellforaguylikethat?”

“Itwouldbesomewhatironic,”Collinagreed.

“Plus,hedoesn’tevenlikeme,”Cameronadded.

Collincockedhishead.“Isthatwhatyou’reworriedabout?”

“No, I’m not worried. I just think, given our history, that it would be foolish of me to think that

Saturday night was about anything other than a mere physical attraction on Jack’s part.” Cameron
paused.“Soit’sagoodthingheandIareonthesamepagewiththat.”

Collin seemed to be amused by her assessment of the situation. “I think you need a few drinks to

helpyousortthisout.”

Cameronwavedthisoff.“Idon’tneedtodoanysorting.”Shegesturedtoheroutfit.“ButIdoneed

tochangeoutofthissuitbeforeweheadtothebar.”

“I’llheadupwithyou,”Collinsaid,slidingoffthestoolandleavingthekitchenwithher.“Iwantto

checktheguestbedroom.I’mmissingmySoxsweatshirt,andIthoughtmaybeIleftithereoneofthe
timesIstayedover.Eitherthat,orRichardsnaggeditwhenhemovedout.”

CameronfollowedCollinupthestairs.“Haveyoutalkedtohimsincethen?”

“Notonce.IthoughtI’dgetaphonecall,orattheveryleastane-mail.Butapparentlyhethin—”

Neitherofthemsawtheattackcoming.

Adarkfigurelungedatthemwhentheyreachedthesecondfloor,amereblurthatmovedblindingly

fast. With Collin in front of her, Cameron never saw where the man came from. He struck Collin
across the head with something in his hand, and Collin moaned and sank to the floor. Cameron
screamedhisname.

The man, dressed all in black, whirled around. He wore a ski mask that covered all of his face

exceptforsmallopeningsathiseyesandmouth,andshenoticedthatheworeblackgloves.

Theobjectinhishandwasagun.

Pointedstraightather.

Cameronfeltasthoughherlegswerestuckinquick-sand.ShelookedovertowhereCollinlayon

thefloor.Hewasn’tmoving.

Themanwiththegunmovedtowardher.

Camerontookastepback,retreatingslowlydownthestairs.Themanfollowedher.

“Whatdoyouwant?”sheasked,hervoicebarelymorethanawhisper.

Ashetookthenextstep,heliftedhisglovedhandandpointed.

You.

Seventeen

JACKLEFTTHETriumphinanopenspotneartheendoftheblockandwalkedovertotheunmarked
policecarparkedinfrontofCameron’shouse.He’dtakenhistimeonthewayover,soakinginthe
fifteen-minutedrivealongthelake.Inaboutthreeweekshe’dhavetoputthemotorcycleintostorage
forthewinterandhiscold-weathermodeoftransport,aFordLTDCrownVictoria,whilepractical,
didn’tpackquitethesamepunch.

As Jack made his way over, Harper, the senior cop on the day shift, unrolled the driver ’s side

window.

“Shejustgothereafewminutesago.She’swithMcCann.”

Jack noted this information, not happy about the fact that Cameron wasn’t alone. He’d called her

officeandhadbeensurprisedtolearnfromhersecretarythatshe’dgonehomeearly.Atthetimethat
hadseemedfortuitous,sincehepreferredtotalktoherinperson,anyway,andherhousewouldbe
moreprivate.

Hethankedthecopsandheadedtowardthefrontgate.

For the past few days, he’d been avoiding this conversation. Mainly because of how surprised he

wasbyhisactionsonSaturdaynight.Hewasnotanimpulsiveman.Impulsivemeninhislineofwork
quicklyfoundthemselvesdead.Orworse.Hepersonallyhadsurvivedtheworstofitatthehandof
Martinoandknewtheonlywayhehadlivedtotellwasbecausehe’dkepthiswitsthroughthepain
andwaitedoutthosetwoexcruciatinglylongdaysfortherightmomenttostrike.

WhathadhappenedwithCameronatManorHousehadlefthimfeelingunsettled.Offhisgame.He

didn’toftenlethisguarddownaroundpeople.Thatmadeaman...vulnerable.

Somehow,shehadgottenbehindhisdefenses.Andnow,everyinstincttoldhimtostayasfaraway

fromheraspossible,tohardenhimselfagainstherevenmorethanhehadinthepast.Hewouldride
outtheremainderoftheRobardsinvestigation,andthenwalkawaywithoutasecondglance.

Exceptforonething.

Yousawwhatyouwantedtosee.

That slip-up of hers had been in the back of his mind, nagging him, ever since she’d first said it.

Whoknewwhatshemeantbythat?ButiftherewassomeotherexplanationforherbeinginDavis’s
officethatmorning—thedayhe’dbeentransferredbytheDOJ—hewantedtoknowaboutit.

Heneededtoknow.

Sothistime,hewasn’tleavinguntilshetalked.Hewouldgettheanswershewanted.Today.

Jackstrodeupthestepstoherfrontdoor.Herangthedoorbellandwaited.

Noresponse.

Hetriedagain.

Stillnothing.

Jacklookedbackattheundercovercarparkedonthestreetbehindhim.

Inthepassengerseat,OfficerReganrolleddownthewindowandshrugged.“Maybethey’reinback.

McCann said something about having a drink while we were checking out the house. They’re
probablysittingonthedeckorsomething.”

OfficerHarpersteppedoutofthecar.“Youwantustocheckitoutwithyou?”

Sheprobablywasjustsittingonthedeck,havingadrink.

Butprobablywasnotgoodenough.

Jack took the steps two at a time. “One of you guard the front and keep trying the doorbell. The

otherofyoushouldgoaroundtheeastsideofthehouse.”Therewasagatethatblockedaccesstothe
backofthehousefromthatside,butitwasstillworthchecking.

Drawing his gun, Jack went the opposite direction and cut around the side of the house. All the

windowsappearedundisturbed,andashecarefullypeekedineachone,hesawnothing.Nordidhe
hearanything.

He moved cautiously around the house and into the backyard. Seeing that Cameron and Collin

weren’tthere,hecreptupthestepsthatledtothedeckandpressedhisbackagainstthehouse.Onhis
onesidewasthedoor,ontheotherawindow.Thedoorwasnearlyallglassexceptforasolidoak
border.Thewindowatleasthadcurtainsthatwouldprovidesomecover.Beingcarefultoremainas
concealedaspossible,hepeekedthroughthewindow.

Nothing.

Thekitchenandgreatroomwereempty.

Shewouldn’tleavewithoutthepoliceescort.

Jacktightenedhisgriponhisgun.Hiseyessearchedthehouseashetriedtostayoutofview.

Thenhesawit—somethingthatmadehispulserace.

Ontheothersideofthekitchen,alargedecorativemirrorhungonthewalloppositethestairwell.

HecouldseeCameroninthemirror—shewasstandingonthestairs.

Amanwearingablackmaskstoodbehindher,holdingaguntoherhead.

Thefrontdoorbellrangandthemaskedmanlookedinthatdirection,clearlyusingtheguntokeep

Cameronquiet.

Fromtheeastsideofthehousecameasuddenclangingsound,andJackduckedoutofthewindow.

The sound had come from the gate, and he silently cursed whichever of the two cops had been
carelessenoughtomakesomuchnoise.Hepeekedbackintothewindow.

Cameronandthemaskedmanweregone.

Knowing they had to have gone up the stairs, Jack ran for the fire escape that led to the upstairs

balcony,beingcarefultomovestealthilyenoughsoastonotmakeasound.Hereachedthesecond
floorandheadedtotheFrenchdoorsoutsidethemasterbedroom.Hereachedoutwithonehandand
quietlycheckedthehandleofthedoor.Locked.Stayingoutofsightasmuchaspossible,helooked
throughtheglass.

HewatchedasCameronenteredthebedroom,thegunmanrightbehindher.Themangrippedher

neckwithonehand,pushingher,andheldtheguntoherheadwiththeother.

“Ineversawyourface,”Cameronwassaying.“Youdon’thavetodothis.”

Hearingthefearinhervoice,afurytookholdofJack.Heraisedhisguntotakeashotthroughthe

window.

Butthemanmusthaveseentheflashofmovement.Helookedover,sawJackthroughtheglass,and

yankedCameroninfrontofhim,blowingtheshot.RefusingtoleaveCameronalonewiththegunman
onesecondlonger,JackrearedbackandfiredhisguntwiceattheglassFrenchdoors.

Hedovethrough.

Jackburstintothebedroom,barelyawareoftheglassshatteringallaroundhim.Hehittheground

ononeknee,slidacrossthefloor,andhurtledhimselfupwithhisgunaimedatthemaskedman—

—whohadhisarmwrappedaroundCameron’sneck.Hisowngunpointedatherhead.

“Lethergo,”Jackgrowled.

ThemaskedmantightenedhisgriparoundCameron’sneck.Usingherasashield,hebackedoutof

thebedroom,intothehallway.

Jackfollowed,hisguntrainedonthemanandreadytofirethemomenthehadacleanshot.“There

arecopsoneverysideofthishouse.You’retrapped.Putdownyourweaponandreleaseher.”Without
shifting his gaze, he did a quick assessment of the guy. Five feet eleven, roughly one hundred and
seventy-five pounds. Cameron’s physical description had been nearly spot-on. And through the slits
ofthemask,Jackgainedoneadditionalpieceofinformation:themanhadbrowneyes.

The masked man paused at Jack’s warning. Then he pressed the barrel of his gun harder against

Cameron’stemple,diggingintoherskin.

Jackgotthemessage,loudandclear.

Backoff.

Hekepthiseyesandgunonhistarget.“Youshootherandyouloseyourshield.”Hestoleaglance

atCameron.Herfacewaswhite.Sheblinked,andtearsrandownherface.

Jackforcedhimselfnottoshowanyemotion.Butforthefirsttimeinhislife,hefeltrealfear.

Themaskedmanbackedtowardthestairs,andoutofthecornerofhiseye,JacksawCollinlaying

motionlessinthehallway.ThemandraggedCameronwithhimupthestairs,nearlychokingherashe
forcedhertokeepupwithhim.Jackfollowed,hismindrunningthroughthementalfloormaphe’d
madeofCameron’shouseduringhistwosecuritychecks.

“If you want out of this house, you’ll have to let her go,” Jack warned. “You can’t run with a

hostage.”

Themanshowednoreaction.Atthethirdfloor,thestairsendedinanopen-airbalconywithpitched

ceilings and a skylight. To Jack’s left was an office. To the right was a large, unfurnished room.
Althoughhecouldn’tseeitfromhisposition,heknewtherewasadooronthenorthwallthatledout
ontotherooftopdeck.

Withouthesitating,themaskedmanpulledCameronintotheroomonJack’sright.Jackfollowed,

realizingthathoweverlongthemanhadbeeninsidethehouse,waiting,ithadbeenlongenoughto
familiarizehimselfwiththelayout.

Themanheadedtothedoorthatledoutside.Therewasamoment’spauseasheshiftedhisposition,

then,reachingaroundCameron’sneck,hepinnedheragainsthisbodywithhiselbowandforearm.
Hepointedthegunupward,bracingthemuzzlerightunderneathherchin.Hereachedhisfreehand
behindhimtounlockthedoor.

So precarious was Cameron’s position at that moment, Jack couldn’t contemplate taking a shot—

oneslipoftheintruder ’sarmanditwouldallbeover.

Heneededtosaysomething,anythingtoreachouttoher.“Cameron—lookatme.”

“Jack,”shewhispered,hereyesholdinghisandpleading.

Heheardacrashdownstairs,thesoundofwoodsplintering—abreakingdoor—justasthemasked

manpushedopenthedoortothedeckandpulledCameronoutside.Withtwohandsonhisgun,Jack
followedthemacrosstherooftop.Behindthem,thepitchedwallsofthehouseandtheroomtheyhad
exited blocked the view of the street, which meant it was impossible for Jack to see what was
happeningwiththepoliceofficersbelow.

Themanmovedsteadilyandquicklytothefarwalloftherooftop.HekeptCameroninfrontofhim

at all times, never giving Jack any opening. Without saying a word, he backed against the wall that
overlooked the backyard. He glanced sideways, and Jack assumed he was searching for the fire
escapeonestorybelowthem.

ThenheturnedandlookedatJack.

Everythinghappenedinaninstant—themansuddenlytookhisgunoffCameron,pointeditatJack,

andpulledbackthetrigger.

“No!”Cameronshouted.Shegrabbedforthegunasitfiredandthebulletsplinteredthewoodofthe

deckmereinchesfromJack’sfeet.Cameronfacedthemanastheystruggled.Jackdidn’thaveashot
withherbetweenthem,sohelungedfortheminstead.

ThegunwentoffagainandCameronstumbledback.

“Cameron!”Jackyelled.

Hecaughtherasshesanktothedeck.Hesawbloodspreadingoverherblazer.Whileheheldher,

themanboltedanddoveoverthesideoftheroof,ontothefireescape.

“He’sgettingaway,”Cameronmutteredwithastunned,palelook.“Justleaveme.”

Likehellhewould.

HarperandReganburstthroughthedoorwaywiththeirgunsdrawn.

“Herandownthefireescape,”JackshoutedasheeasedCamerondowntogetabetterlookatthe

gunshotwound.

The cops moved instantly toward the fire escape, then ducked for cover as shots rang out from

below.Therewasapause,presumablyasthekillerran,andthecopstookoffinpursuit.

Jack focused on Cameron. He reached into his blazer for his cell phone and called for the

paramedicsandbackup.

“IsCollinokay?”sheaskedwhenhehungupthephone.

“Anambulanceisontheway.Everything’sokaynow.”Jackpushedherblazeroff.“Jesus,Cameron

—whatwereyouthinking?”

“Icouldn’tjustlethimshootyou.”

“Wouldn’thavebeenthefirsttimeforme.”Jacksawthatthebloodwascomingfromhershoulder.

Notwastingamoment,heyankedopenthetoptwobuttonsofhershirtandpusheditasidetogeta
betterlook.

Cameronclosedhereyes.“Tellmethetruth—howbadisit?”

Jackhesitated.

Shepanicked.“OhGod—thatbad?”

Hedecideditwouldbebesttojustlayitontheline.“Soonascaleofonetotenofallthegunshot

woundsI’veseen,thisis...”

Hereyeswidened.

“...aboutapointtwo.”

Shesatup.“Apointtwo?Ibledthroughmyblazer.Don’ttellmethat’sameaslypointtwo.”

“Admittedly,I’veseenalotofgunshotwounds,somycurvemaybesteeperthanmost,”Jacksaid,

blottinghershoulderwiththeblazer.“Butthepointis,you’regoingtobefine.”Histhroattightened
—he’d seen a lot of things between the FBI and Army Special Forces, but he doubted he’d ever be
abletoforgettheimageofherstumblingbackafterthegunhadgoneoff.

“Well,pointtwoornot,ithurts.Alot.”

“Good.Maybenowyou’llthinktwiceaboutgettingyourselfnearlykilledbyattackingamanwitha

gun.”

“Gee,withthatkindofthanks,I’mthinkingthat’sthelasttimeItakeabulletforyou.”

“You’redamnrightitis,”Jackgrowled.

Shemanagedaslightmischievoussmile.“Youwereworriedaboutme,AgentPallas.”

“Fromyourtone,I’mguessingIdon’tneedtobeanylonger.”

Theyheardthesoundofasirenasanambulancepulledupatherhouse.

“Youprobablyshouldgonow—trytocatchtheguy,”Cameronsaid.

Jacklookeddownather,cradledinhisarms.“Iprobablyshould,”hesaidhuskily.

Hestayedrightwherehewas.

Eighteen

THE STREET OUTSIDE Cameron’s house was pure mayhem. There were squad cars, unmarked
policeandFBIcars,anambulance,andcopsandagentseverywhere.Wilkinshadarrivedshortlyafter

the paramedics with several FBI teams. Quickly thereafter, Detective Slonsky had shown up at the
scenewithhisownmen.

TheparamedicwhohadbandagedCameron’sshoulderledhertotheambulanceparkedagainstthe

curb. The back doors were open and Collin sat inside, facing out toward the street. A second
paramediccheckedhiseyes,lookingforsignsofaconcussion.

The instant he spotted Cameron, Collin pushed the paramedic aside and vaulted out of the

ambulance.

“Oh,thankGod.”Hepulledherintohisarmsandheldhertight.“Theywouldn’tletmeseeyou—

theysaidtheywerekeepingyouisolateduntiltheywerecertaintheguywasnolongerinthearea.”

“Slonskysaidthecopslosthiminthealley.”

Collinpulledback.Hiseyesfellonherbloodyshirt.“WhenIheardyou’dbeenshot,Inearlylost

it.”

“I’mokay,”Cameronreassuredhim.“TheparamedicsaidImightneedacoupleofstitches,butI

waslucky.Thebulletjustgrazedthetopofmyshoulder.”ShereachedupandbrushedCollin’shair
aside, being careful to avoid the ugly bruise on his head. “How about you? How does your head
feel?”

Collintouchedthebump.“Terrible.Butmypridehurtsfarworse.I’msosorry,Cam.WhenIthink

aboutwhatcould’vehappened...Ishould’veprotectedyoubetter.”

Shetookhishandsandsqueezedthem.“Itturnedoutokay.”

“Luckilythecavalrycamewhenitdid,”Collinsaid.

Camerondoubtedshe’deverbeabletoforgetthesightofJackburstingthroughtheglassdoorsto

rescue her. When they’d been on the rooftop deck, right before the paramedics had arrived, she’d
noticedacutabovehischeekbone.Andwhenhe’dstooduptolettheparamedicstakeover,she’dseen
severalmorecutsonhishands.Visibleremindersofthedangerhe’dputhimselfin.Forher.

DetectiveSlonskystoodbyoneofthecopcars,talkingtoOfficersHarperandRegan.Whenhesaw

Cameronstandingbytheambulance,heheadedover.

“We’refinishingourcheckofthehousenow,”hetoldher.“Myguyswillfollowyouovertothe

hospitalandgetyourstatementthere.”

“Likehelltheywill.”

At the sound of Jack’s voice, Cameron looked over and saw him cut through the front gate,

followed by Wilkins. Jack strode over to Regan and Harper. “Which one of you checked her
bedroom?”

Harperstraightenedup,asifbracinghimselffortheworst.“Idid.”

“Didyougoinsidehercloset?”

“Itookalookinthere,yes.”

Jackwaited,theangervisibleonhisface.

“But,no...Ididn’tactuallygoinsidethecloset,”Harperadmitted.

Slonskywalkedover.“What’dyouguysfind?”heaskedWilkinsandJack.

“Someofthedresseshadbeenknockedofftherackbehindthedoor,”Wilkinsanswered.

“Andthereweretwoshoeimprintsinthecarpet.Aboutamen’ssizeeleven,I’dguess,”Jacksaid.

“Your men are off this case, Slonsky. And don’t even think about giving me any crap about
jurisdiction.”

Hiseyesdaredanyonetochallengehimonthis.

CAMERONSANKAGAINSTtheambulance,needingamoment.

Collin’shandtouchedhers.“Youokay?”

Shenodded.“Justthinking.”Andtryingnottothrowup.

Thekillerhadbeenhidinginherbedroomcloset.

Oddly,morethananythingelsethathadhappenedthatafternoon,thatleftherfeelingviolated.And

the thing she kept coming back to was this: she’d left work unexpectedly early that afternoon. She
wasn’tsupposedtohavebeenhomeatthattime.

ThecopsandFBIhadexaminedthedoorsandwindowsofherhouseandfoundnovisiblesignsof

hisentry,whichmeantthekillerknewhowtopickalockwithoutleavingevidencebehind.Duringthe
entireattack,he’dbeenterrifyinglycoldandincontrolandhadneverspokenonce.Bottomline:he
wasnotanamateur.Heknewwhathewasdoing.

ButCameronwould’vethoughtthataprofessionalwouldbreakintoherhouseatnight.Fourinthe

afternoonwasamuchriskiertime—peoplewalkedtheirdogs,pickeduptheirkidsfromschool,and
startedtocomehomefromwork.

Whichmeantthekillerknewthatshewasbeingwatched.Hewasawarethathisonlyopportunityto

get inside the house was while she was at work. Once she returned home, she was under constant
policesurveillance.

Cameronthoughtbacktothemomentshe’dfirstseenthemancomingdownthestairsforher.The

creepyblackmaskandgloves,thegunhe’dpressedagainsthertempleandunderherchin.Thesound
ofthegungoingoff.She’dhavenightmaresforweeks,ofthatshehadnodoubt.Andnowthethought
that he had been watching her, that he knew her daily routine . . . well, she liked to think she was a
strongwoman,butthiswasalmosttoomuch.

Almost,sheemphasizedtoherself.Shemighthavenightmaresforweeks,butshewouldnotletthis

asshole,whoeverthehellhewas,turnherintoahelplesswreck.Andifhedid,well,shewouldjust
havetofindawaynottoshowit.

AfterfinishingwhatlookedlikeaprettyheateddiscussionwithSlonsky,Jackapproachedher.“I’m

goingtoridewithyouintheambulance.Wilkinswillfollowinhiscar.We’llgetstatementsfromyou
bothatthehospital.”

“Atleastminewillbeshort,seeinghowIsleptonthefloorthroughthewholething.Howclever

andbraveofme,”Collinsaid,hisvoicetingedwithdisgust.Heclimbedintotheambulance.

“IspoketoDavis,”JacksaidtoCameron.“Afterwe’refinishedatthehospital,hewantstoseeyou,

me,andWilkinsinhisoffice.”Hisgazefelltohershoulder.“Iheardyoumightneedstitches.”

Helookedsoseriousrightthen.

“Ohno—notagain,”Cameronsaid.“Ifyoukeepupthiswholeniceroutine,there’sagoodchance

I’ll lose it right here. And personally, I was hoping to postpone all freak-outs over the attack until
later,intheprivacyofmyownhome.”

Jackstudiedherforamoment.“Youaresomethingelse,CameronLynde.”

Heheldouthishandtohelpherintotheambulance.

Nineteen

CAMERONANDWILKINSwaitedinthechairsoutsideDavis’soffice.Itwasnearly9:00P.M.,and
theFBIagentsstaredathercuriouslyastheytrickledoutoftheofficeafterputtinginlongdays.

DavishadaskedtospeakwithJackfirst.Alone.Wilkinsstoodupandpacedtheroom,andCameron

couldtellhedidnotlikebeingleftonthesidelines.Frankly,neitherdidshe.Withafeignedyawn,she
leaned her head back against the glass window of Davis’s office. The curtain was drawn, so she
couldn’tseeanything,butifperchanceshehappenedtooverhearawordortwo...

“Ialreadytriedthat,”Wilkinssaid.“They’respeakingtooquietly.”

“Whatdoyouthinkthey’retalkingabout?”

“You.”

“Well,Iknowme,butwhataboutmespecifically?”

Wilkinsglancedatthedoor.“Idon’tknow.”

Cameronpickedherheadofftheglass.“DoyouthinkJackinistrouble?”

Wilkinsansweredafterapause.“Ishouldbeinthere.”

The door suddenly flew open and Davis stepped out. He nodded at Wilkins, then gestured to

Cameron.“Ms.Lynde,ifyouwouldpleasejoinusinmyoffice.”

ShefollowedWilkinsinside.Jackwasperchedagainstatableinthecorneroftheroom.Hisface

wasunreadable.

CamerontookaseatinfrontofDavis’sdesk,inthechairclosertoJack.Wilkinssatonherother

side.Davisfoldedhishandsashesatdown.Liketheothertimeshe’dbeeninhisoffice,threeyears
ago,heworeaseriousexpression.

“Ms.Lynde,asthespecialagentinchargeofthisoffice,Iwouldliketogiveyoumymostsincere

apologies. For what it’s worth, I’ve put a call into the CPD superintendent. I plan to see that the
officers who had been handling your surveillance this afternoon are disciplined appropriately. I’m
furiousaboutwhathappened.Ipromiseyouthatitwillnothappenagain.”

“Thankyou.LuckilyAgentPallaswasthere.Hedeservestobecommendedforhisactionstoday.I

can’timaginewhatmight’vehappenedifhehadn’tshownupwhenhedid,”Cameronsaid.

“Jack and I have spoken. I agree with him that the FBI needs to take over your protective

surveillance. In light of today’s attack, we’re going to assign an agent who will be with you at all
times.He’llmoveintoyourhouse,followyoutowork,goeverywhereyougo.I’veaskedJack,asthe
leadinvestigatorinthiscase,totakeonthisassignment.Hehasagreed.”

Cameronwascarefulnottoshowanyreactiontothis.Outofthecornerofhereyes,shecouldsee

Jack. His expression remained neutral as well. It was weird, sitting next to him in Davis’s office,
pretending as though everything was business as usual despite what had happened between them on
Saturdaynight.

“I’m afraid this is going to be a much more intrusive level of protective surveillance,” Davis

continued,“butunfortunately,wedon’thavemuchchoiceinthematter.”

“Trustme—noonewantstomakesurewedon’thavearepeatoftoday’sincidentmorethanIdo,”

Cameronsaid.“Inthiscase,I’mhappytobeinconvenienced.”

“With Jack handling the surveillance, we’ll need someone else to manage the day-to-day

responsibilitiesoftheinvestigation.”DavisturnedtoWilkins.“Sam—Jackhasrecommendedthatyou
replacehiminthiscapacity.Heassuresmethatyou’rereadyfortheresponsibility.”

Uncharacteristically speechless, Wilkins paused before addressing his boss. “I appreciate the

confidencethatJack—andyou—haveinme,sir.ButJackandIarepartners,andIwouldliketostick
withhimonthisassignment.”

Davischuckled.“Oh,don’tworry—you’renotgettingridofhimthateasily.You’llstillbepartners,

butwithdifferentresponsibilities.JackwillremainwithMs.Lynde,andyou’llleadtheteamherein
ouroffice.”

Wilkinsgrinned.“Inthatcase,Iwholeheartedlyaccept.”

“I thought you might,” Davis said. “Now—we need to start thinking about what happened today.

HowthehelldidMandyRobards’skillerfindoutaboutCameron?OntheFBIsideofthings,thereare
the three of us, and the director, who are aware of her involvement in the investigation. Wilkins—I
think the first thing you need to do is come up with a list of everyone in the Chicago Police
Departmentwhoknows.Today’sattacktellsusonething:we’vegotaleak.Butwemightbeableto
usethattoouradvantage.Oncewefindtheleak,wecanusehimtogettothekiller.”

“BecarefulhowyouhandleCPDonthis,”JackwarnedWilkins.“Thesecopsarenotgoingtolike

the implication that one of them may have leaked confidential information either purposefully or
inadvertently.Sotreadlightly.”

“Don’t worry—finessing is my forte,” Wilkins said. “And we need to think beyond CPD. Twenty

womenatthebachelorettepartyonSaturdaysawthatCameronwasundermyandJack’ssurveillance.
Anyoneofthemcould’vespreadthatinformationtothewrongperson.”

“I can get you their names, but I doubt any of those girls are the leak,” Cameron said. “None of

themhadanycluewhyyouandJackwerewatchingme.”

JackaddressedCameron.“Whataboutyourfriendsandfamily?Haveyoutoldthemanything?”

“CollinandAmyknowalittle,butnothingspecific.Andtheyknowtokeepquiet.Ihaven’ttalkedto

anyoneelseaboutit.”

Davis rocked back in his chair. “So we’ve got CPD to focus on, and, as an outside chance, the

womenwhowerewithCamerononSaturdaynight.Bytheway,Jack,Idon’trecallseeinganythingin
your last report about you and Agent Wilkins attending a bachelorette party over the weekend.
Strangehowthatgotleftout.”

“It was a last-minute determination made based upon the security parameters of the nightclub Ms.

Lyndeplannedtoattend.”

“Niceanswer,”Davissaid.

“Nokidding,”Wilkinsagreed,lookingimpressed.

“Aslongaswe’relistingeveryonewhoisawareofmyinvolvementintheRobards’sinvestigation,

I should mention that Silas knows. He found out through Godfrey,” Cameron said, referring to the
FBI director. “Apparently, he called Silas last week to thank me for my cooperation in the
investigation.”

DavispausedatthementionofSilas’sname.“Doyouthinkit’spossibleSilastoldsomeoneabout

yourinvolvementinthecase?”

“AstheU.S.attorney,hecertainlyshouldknowbetter,”Cameronsaid.

“Iwouldhopeso,”Davisagreed.

TheconversationturnedtothesubjectofJackandWilkins’srecenttriptoNewYork.AsCameron

listenedwhileJackfilledinDavis,hereyescouldn’thelpbutbedrawntothecutabovehischeek.In
the emergency room, after she’d gotten five stitches for her “point two”-level gunshot wound, the
doctor had offered to have a nurse take care of the scrapes on Jack’s cheek and hands. He’d waved
thisoff,notbudgingfromCameron’sside.

So much had transpired between them over the last few days—first The Thing That Never

Happened on her front doorstep, and then Those Things She’d Never Admit on Saturday night.
CameronhadnoideawhatwasgoingonwithherandJacklately,butasshelookedatthecutonhis
face,shedidknowonething.

Shetrustedhim.

Andsincehenowwouldbetheonecoveringhertwenty-four/seven,sheknewthattrusthadtogo

bothways.Whichmeantsheneededtotellhimabouteverythingthathadhappenedthreeyearsago.

Tonight.

WHENGRANTLEThimselfintohisapartmentthatnight,hepausedinthedoorway,bracinghimself
tobeshovedupagainstthewallandhandcuffed.

Itdidn’thappen.

Heexhaled,findingcomfortinthefactthat,ataminimum,Pallashadn’tyetidentifiedhimasthe

maskedman.Howlongthatfactwouldremainundiscovered,however,waslesscertain.

Tosaythattheafternoonhadnotgoneasplannedwouldbeanunderstatement.

Grantcreptthroughhisapartmentwiththelightsoff,checkingtheviewfromeverywindow.From

his third-story perch, he looked down onto the street below for anything remotely suspicious—
strange cars parked out front, a dog walker who just “happened” to be out at that time of night, a
homelesspersonconvenientlypassedoutinthealleybehindhisbuilding.

Hesawnothing.

For the second time in the two weeks since Mandy Robards had tried to blackmail him, he was

furious.Andnowparanoid,too.Notagoodcombination.

CameronLyndewasn’tsupposedtohavecomehomefromworksoearly.Shealsowasn’tsupposed

tohavebroughtafriendhomewithher—notthathe’dhadanytroublegettinghimoutofthepicture.

Hecould’vehandledthepoliceofficersinthecaroutfront.Hehadnot,however,beenreadyfora

standoffwithJackPallas.Theragehe’dseeninthefederalagent’seyesasheburstthroughtheglass
doorwasnotsomethinghe’dexpected.Norhadhebeenexpectingthewoman—who’dbeenrelatively
well-behavedupuntilthatpoint—totrygrabbingthegunoutofhishand.

He’dbeenlucky,heknew,tohaveescapedwheneverythinghadgonesofarawryfromhisplans.

Thankfully,however,hedidn’tneedtocountonluckinthefuture.

Satisfied that his apartment wasn’t under surveillance, Grant headed back to his bedroom and

undressed.Ashe’ddoneahundredtimesalreadythatevening,heranthroughtheeventsoftheattack
andafter,lookingfortheareaswherehewasmostvulnerable.

No one had seen his face. Nor had anyone heard his voice, since he hadn’t so much as coughed

during the entire attack. No prints left behind, thanks to the gloves. His getaway had been clean
enough—he’d had to outrun those two worthless cops, one of whom had seen leaner days and the
otherofwhomlookedbarelyoldenoughtodriveasquadcar.Chicago’sfinest.He’dlosttheminan
alleythreeblocksfromthewoman’shouseandthenhigh-taileditahalfmileintheoppositedirection
totheparkinglotwherehe’dstashedhiscar.He’dswoopedupthebackpackhehadleftinagarbage
binalongtheway.Bythetimehegottotheparkinglothe’dshedthemask,thegloves,andthejacket,
and was simply a man wearing black nylon pants and a long sleeve T-shirt while carrying his gym
bagafteralate-afternoonworkout.Oncehe’dgottenbacktohiscaranddrivenoff,he’dpulledinto
anotheralleyacouplemilesawayandchangedintothesuithe’dleftinthecar.Thebackpack,withthe
remainderoftheblackclothesandwiththeadditionofacoupleheavybricks,wasnowsittingonthe
bottomoftheChicagoRiver.

Grantwalkednakedintohisbathroomandturnedonthewatertotheshower.Hestudiedhimselfin

themirrorassteamfilledtheair.

Therewasoneweakness.

Hehadnoalibi.Hewasn’tsupposedtohaveneededone.

Sure, as soon as he’d dumped the backpack in the river he’d driven straight to his evening

appointment—he’d met an old friend who worked at the Tribune at a bar in River West. Word had
gotten out that a high-priced call girl had been murdered in one of the city’s most luxurious hotels
and the unconfirmed rumor was that Senator Hodges’s name had shown up on her client list. The
friend,whoowedGrantseveralfavorsforallthetimeshe’dgivenhimearlyaccesstomanyofthe
senator ’spoliticaldealings,calledtogivehimaheads-upandhadaskedtomeetfordrinks.Granthad
beencurioustoknowwhetherthesenator ’snamewasbeingtossedaroundasapotentialsuspect,and

howmuchhisfriendknewabouttheFBI’sinvestigation.Asitturnedout,hisfriendknewverylittle,
andGrantgotthefeelinghewastheonebeingpumpedforinformation.

After drinks, he had returned to the senator ’s offices and attended a series of meetings with the

higher-levelstaffmembersandtwoofHodges’sattorneys.Thesenatororiginallyhadplannedtobe
backinD.C.bythefollowingweek,butgiventheFBI’swarningthathenotleavethestate,alternate
plansneededtobediscussed.Firstandforemostoneveryone’smindwashowtoexplainthechanges
to the senator ’s schedule without tipping the press off about his connection to Mandy Robards’s
murder.

Secretly, Grant got a kick out of these conversations. The hushed tones, the tension-filled rooms,

the worried glances over what the press and—gasp—even the killer might possibly know about the
senator ’sinvolvementwithMandy.Theyhadabsolutelynoideathatthemantheyweretalkingabout
wassittingrightatthattable.

Andhekneweverything.

After the meetings finally ended, Grant had driven home, taking a few detours along the way to

makesurenobodywasfollowinghim.Allinall,hisdaywouldseemlikeanyothertoanyonewho
mightask—exceptforthatonemissinghour.He’dhavetocomeupwithsomethingtofillthevoid,
justtobeready.

GrantthoughtbacktothemomentinsideCameronLynde’shousewhenshe’dfirstseenhimonthe

stairs—thewayshe’dtakenastepbackandwhispered,Whatdoyouwant?

Hewantedtostoplookingoverhisfuckingshoulderwhenhewalkedintohisapartment,that’swhat

hewanted.

Shesaidshedidn’tknowwhohewas.Althoughhelikedtothinkpeopletendedtotellthetruthwhen

feeling the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed against their heads, he wasn’t sure he trusted her.
Fortunately,hedidn’thaveto.

For her sake, he hoped she was telling the truth. Mandy’s murder had been near perfect, almost

artfully so. The best FBI agent in the city had been assigned the case, and still they had nothing on
him.Andtheywouldn’teverhaveanythingonhimaslongasCameronLyndedidn’tstepoutofline.

Ofcourse,he’dtakenprecautionstoknowifshedid.

Theyweresostupid.Pallas,thecops,allofthem.Itwasrightundertheirnoses,andtheydidn’teven

realizeit.

Ifhe’dknownitwasthismuchfungettingawaywithmurder,he’dhavedoneityearsago.

Twenty

SHEANDJACKwouldbelivingtogether.

The practical realities of the situation struck Cameron during the car ride to Jack’s South Loop

apartment.HehadaskedWilkinstodropthemoffsohecouldpickuphiscarand“afewthings.”As

they pulled away from the FBI building, he leaned over the seat and asked if she had any questions
abouthowtheprotectivecustodywasgoingtowork.

Shenonchalantlyansweredthattherewerenoneshecouldthinkofoffthetopofherhead.

Thiswasnottrue.

Shehadlotsofquestions.Forstarters,whereexactlydidJackplantosleep?Couldshestillgoto

work during the day? Did he expect her to cook meals while he stayed at her house? (Certainly the
surestwaytokillthemboth.)Wouldtheydonormal,everydaythingstogether,likewatchtelevisionat
night?(Whichremindedher—shereallyneededtodeletethoseepisodesofTheBachelorfromher
TiVo playlist.) And where, exactly, did he plan to sleep? (This particular question consumed such a
vastlygreaterpercentageofhermusings,itborerepeating.)Washeallowedtoleaveheraloneatall,
likewhenhetookashower?Or,purelyfromasafetyperspective,woulditbebetterforhertojoin
himinsuchundertakings...

“Thiswillonlytakeafewminutes,”Jacksaidastheyrodetheelevatortohisfourth-floorloft.He

lookedherover.“Areyouokay?Youlookedlikeyouzonedoutforamomentthere.”

“I’m still processing everything that happened today,” Cameron said, hoping she didn’t

spontaneouslycombustrightthereintheelevatoratthethoughtofhimnakedinhershower.

When they arrived at the fourth floor, Jack led her to the apartment at the end of the hallway. He

unlockedandopenedthedoor,invitingherinside.

Shedidn’tknowwhatsheexpectedCasaPallastolooklike,perhapssomethingstarkandSpartan

withminimalfurnishingsandlotsofgray,butthatwasnotwhatshefoundwhenshewalkedthrough
thedoorway.Thewallswereexposedbrickandtheceilingwasvaulted.Inkeepingwiththeloftstyle,
themainlevelhadanopenfloorplan,withthelivingroomrunningintothemodernkitchenandwhat
appeared to be a powder room and a small office down the hall to her right. There was a second
floor; a floating staircase led to a small balcony. Beyond that were open double doors made of
frostedglassthroughwhichshecouldseethemasterbedroom.

To say the least, the place was warmer and far more welcoming than she had expected. But that

wasn’twhatsurprisedhermost.Whatreallycaughtherattentionwereallthebooks.

AnentirewallofJack’slivingroomwasfilledwithbooks—hundredsofthem—organizedneatly

ondarkmahoganyshelves.Morebooksrestedonthelowershelfofhiscoffeetable.

“Wow,” Cameron said, making her way over to the shelves. “You have some collection here.” It

lookedlikeamixtureofeverything,fictionandnonfiction,hardcoverandpaperback.“Youmustbe
quiteareader.”

Jackshrugged.“Itfillsmysparetime.”

Cameronwouldhavelovedtoownsuchacollectionofbooks—oneofherplansforherhousewas

to convert part of the third floor into a library. Not that she got a chance to read as much as she
would’ve liked; a lot of her free time was sucked up by Collin and Amy. Which made her wonder
whether Jack had a Collin or Amy in his life. Or anyone, for that matter. He seemed awfully . . .
solitary.

Hepointedupstairs.“I’mgoingtograbmythings.Doyouwantanythingtodrink?”

“No,I’mfine.Thankyou.”

Assoonashewentupstairs,Cameroncheckedoutthelivingroommorethoroughly,lookingfor

anythingthatwouldgivehersomeinsightintothemysterythatwasJackPallas.Hehadanimpressive
flat-screentelevisiononthewalloppositethesablecouch—ofcoursehehadabigTV;hemayhave
beenamysterybuthewasstillaguy—andfromwhatshecouldtellfromthebooksunderneaththe
coffeetable,hehadaninterestinblack-and-whitephotography.

A couple of picture frames on the end table next to the couch caught her eye. Curious, Cameron

headedover.Oneofthephotoshadbeentakenseveralyearsago—Jackandthreeotherguysattheir
graduationfromWestPoint,allformallydressedintheiruniformsofgraycoats,gloves,whitepants,
andcaps.

Cameronpickeduptheframe.Inthephoto,Jackworeacocky,widegrinandhadhisarmsslung

over the shoulders of the guys next to him. It was his smile that struck her—so brash and open.
Seeminglysodifferentfromthemansheknewnow.

Sheturnedtothenextpictureframe.Itheldablack-and-whitephotographofawomaninherlate

twentieswholaughedasshepushedalittleboyonaswing.Thewomanhaddarkeyesandstraight,
chin-lengthhairpulledbackwithaheadband.SheboreastrikingresemblancetoJack.

“Mysisterandnephew,”camehisvoicefrombehindher.

Cameronstartedandturnedaround.Hestoodbeforeherwithaduffelbagonthefloornearhisfeet.

Nocluehowlonghe’dbeenthere.

She tried not to reveal how curious she was as she set the picture frame back down. “Do you see

yoursisterandnephewalot?”

“NotthatmuchwhenIwasinNebraska.Buthopefullymorenow.”Heswungthelargeduffelbag

overhisshoulderwithonehand.“Ready?”

Cameron couldn’t help herself as her eyes drifted over him, remembering the night at Manor

House.Thestrongshouldersandarmsthathadbracedheragainstthedoor,theleanhipsandmuscled
thighs that had pressed heatedly against hers, the firm chest and stomach that she’d just begun to
explorewithherhands.Andtheintenselookofdesireinhiseyes.

Nowhe’dbesleepinginthebedroomnexttoher.

Perhapsshe’dbebetterofftakingherchanceswiththemurderer.

WHENTHEYGOTbacktoCameron’shouse,Jack’sfirstorderofbusinesswastomakesurethatthe
doorshadbeenrepairedperhisorders—firstthefrontlock,andthentheFrenchdoorsoffthemaster
bedroombalcony.Ashe’dinstructed,theagencyhadsentoveramaintenancecrewtoboardthedoor
andcleanuptheglass.

Cameroneyedtheirhandiworkskeptically.“Itdefinitelyaddsthatcertain‘vandalized’qualityIwas

goingforwithmyrenovation.”

“It’ssafe.Wecanworryaboutstylelater,”Jacksaid.

Thesecondthinghedidwasconductathoroughcheckofthepremises,withCameronbyhisside

untilhewassuretheywereclear.Thiswasnoquickfeat,giventhesizeofthehouse.

“Didyouusedtobemarried?”heaskedasheopenedtheclosetinoneoftheguestbedrooms.

“No,”shesaid,seemingsurprisedbythequestion.

Rulesouttherichex-husbandidea,Jackthought.

Anothermysteryhewouldsoongettothebottomof.

Thirdonhislistwastogetsettledin.HetooktheroomclosesttoCameron’s—whichluckily,unlike

the other guest bedrooms, actually had furniture—and unpacked his bag. He shrugged out of his
blazerandhungitinthecloset.Heputhissparegunonthenightstand,thenopenedoneofthedrawers
ofthedresserinthecorner.

Hediscoveredaman’ssweatshirtinside.

Jackslammedthedrawershutandchoseanother.

Hemovednextontothefourthitemontheevening’sagenda:takingcareofCameron.

Shewasdoingaprettygoodjobwiththetoughcriminalprosecutorroutine,pretendingtobefine

witheverythingthathadhappenedthatafternoon.Buthehadseentheexhaustionthathadsetintoher
eyes in the car ride to her house, had heard the nervousness that belied the sarcasm in her voice as
she’d commented on the boarded-up French doors, and had noticed the way she’d momentarily
hesitated when she’d followed him up the stairs that led to the second floor, undoubtedly thinking
backtothemaskedintruder ’searlierattack.

Heguessedshehadn’teateninhours.Thatseemedasgoodaplaceasanytostart.Pausingather

bedroom door to make sure everything sounded okay, Jack headed downstairs into the kitchen. He
found her junk drawer and a well-worn menu from a Chinese restaurant a couple blocks away and
figuredthatwasasafebet.Hehadnoideawhatshe’dwanttoeat,soheorderedabunchofthings—
screwit,he’dchargeittotheBureau.Besides,thiswaythey’dhaveleftovers.Fromthelooksofher
refrigeratorandfreezer,shewasanevenworsecookthanhewas.ThankGodfordelivery,becausea
six-foot-two-inch man couldn’t last more than an hour on those skimpy frozen meals. He’d been
strandedinajungleinColombiaforfivenightswithfourotherguysonhisSpecialForcesteamand
stillhadseenlargerrationsthanthosethings.

Next,hecheckedouttheliquorcabinetinherdiningroom.Fromthelooksofit,shelikedwineand

shelikeditred,sohewentwiththesafebetandchoseacabernet.Whethershewantedtoadmititor
not,heknewshewouldneedsomehelpfallingasleepthatnight.Whilelisteningtothesoundofwater
runningupstairs,hemadehiswayaroundthekitchenandpouredheraglassofwine.Thedoorbell
rangafewminuteslater,and,afterabriefmomentofconfusionwhenJackfriskedthedeliveryguy,
askedhimforhisI.D.,andcalledtherestauranttoconfirmhisstatus,theyweresettogo.

Jacksetthebagsoffoodonthecounter,grabbedthewineglass,andheadedupstairs.Cameronhad

leftherbedroomdoorpartiallyopen,ashe’daskedherto.Heknocked.

“Comein,”shesaidinquietvoice.

Jack pushed the door the rest of the way open. He found her standing in front of her closet and

walkedover.“Ithoughtyoumightwantaglassofwinetohelpyou...”Hetrailedoffassheturned
around,stunnedbywhathesaw.

Thereweretearsinhereyes.

Ofcourse,herealized.Theclosetwherethekillerhadbeenhiding,waitingforher.

Hesetthewineglassonthefloorandwenttoher.“Cameron...everything’sokaynow.Youknow

that,right?”

Sheblinked,andatearrandownhercheek.

Itkilledhim.

Jack wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He whispered in her ear. “He’s not getting

nearyouagain,baby,Ipromise.Noone’slayingafingeronyoueveragain.”

Sheturnedhercheekagainsthischestandpeekedinsidethecloset.Hecould’veswornhehearda

sniffle.

“It’ssuchabeautifuldress,”shefinallysaid.

Jacktookalook.Along,silky,deep-pinkdresshungfront-outinthecloset.Nocluewhyshewas

crying over it, but he figured it was best to simply nod and be supportive under the circumstances.
Maybethekillerhadwrinkleditorsomething.

“It’saverynicedress,”heagreed.

Cameron pointed at a pair of silver high-heeled shoes on the closet floor. She’d positioned them

directly underneath the dress, as if an invisible woman was wearing them. “And the shoes . . .” She
peeredupathim,allweepy-eyed.“Theywould’vegonesoperfectlywithit,don’tyouthink?”

Yeah...maybeheshouldjustskippastdinnerandputherstraighttobedinstead.Somebodywas

clearlyabitoutofsorts.

He cleared his throat. Frankly, this was the kind of thing Wilkins was better at. “And now. . . you

don’twanttoweartheshoesagainbecause...thekillermighthavetouchedthem?”Hell,hewasa
guy,whatdidheknow?Maybeshoeswereassacrosanctaspursesandbacheloretteparties.

Cameronpulledbackandgavehimthestrangestlook.“What?Oh,comeon,givemealittlecredit,

Jack. It’s a bridesmaid’s dress. I’m upset because I was supposed to wear it to my friend Amy’s
wedding.It’sthisweekend,inMichigan.Withallthechaostoday,Icompletelyforgotaboutit.”She
sighed.“You’regoingtotellmeIcan’tgo,aren’tyou?”

Jackthoughtthisover.“WhereinMichigan?”

“AtahotelinTraverseCity.Amyusedtovacationtherewithherfamilywhenshewasakid.She’s

plannedthisweddingforyears—itmeansalottoher.”Cameronforcedasmile.“LookslikeCollin’s
goingtohavetostepinasmaidofhonorafterall.He’sgoingtobesopissed.”

Jacksawrightthroughthesmile.Itwasimpossiblenottonoticehowcloseshewaswithherfriends.

TraverseCitywasagoodcouplehundredmilesfromtheirDetroitoffice,buthecouldprobablyget

Davistocallinafewfavors.EverybodyowedDavisfavors.

“Icangetyoutothewedding,”hesaid.

“Really?Youthinkitwillbesafe?”

“Assuming we can send a few agents over from the Detroit office as backup, yes. Actually, this

works out well. This is a big house—a lot of space to be watching over you. I planned to have a
securitysysteminstalled—silentalarm,motiondetectors,theworks.Nowoneofourtechteamscan
putthatinovertheweekend,andwhenyouandIgetbackfromtheweddingwe’llbegoodtogo.”

She exhaled, seemingly both surprised and relieved. “Great. Okay. That, uh . . . was easier than I

thought.”

Jackcockedhishead.Waitasecond...Hecouldn’tdecideifhewaspissedorreallyimpressed.He

hooked a finger into the waistband of the workout pants she’d changed into and pulled her closer.
“Didyoufakemeoutwiththosetears,Cameron?”

She peered up at him defiantly, seemingly outraged by the suggestion. “Are you kidding? What,

afterthedayI’vehad,I’mnotentitledtoafewtears?Sheesh.”

Jackwaited.

“Thisweddingisveryimportanttome—Ican’tbelieveyou’reevendoubtingme.Honestly,Jack,

thetearswerereal.”

Hewaitedsomemore.Shewouldtalkeventually.Theyalwaysdid.

Cameronshiftedundertheweightofhisstare.“Okay,fine.Someofthetearswerereal.”Shelooked

himover,annoyed.“Youarereallygoodatthat.”

Hegrinned.“Iknow.”Hepickedthewineglassoffthefloorandhandedittoher.Shefollowedhim

downthestairsandsawthebagsoffoodonthecounter.

“Why don’t you take a seat while I set everything up,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t want you to tire

yourselfoutinyouremotionallyfragilecondition.”

Shewatchedashetookthewhitecartonsoutofthebagsandsetthemonthecounterinfrontofher.

Shelookedupwhenhestopped.

“That’s...prettymuchitwiththesetup,”Jacksaid.

Cameronlaughed.“Wow—yousurepulloutallthestopsforagirl.”Shegrabbedsomechopsticks

andthecartonnearesther,notlookingparticularlybotheredbythelackofpresentation.

At first, they discussed the Robards investigation as they ate. Then as they began cleaning up,

Cameronsteeredtheconversationtowardthethreeyearshe’dspentinNebraska—previouslyataboo
subjectforthem.Awareofthepotentialpitfallsoftheconversation,Jackdecidedtotellheraboutone
of his last assignments there—catching a bank robber the local media had named the “Butt Bandit”
because of the perp’s fondness for leaving Vaseline imprints of his nether regions on the windows
nexttotheATMsherobbedatnight.

Camerontriednottolaughasshethrewawaytheemptycartons.Shefailedmiserably.“Sorry.I’m

sureitwasaveryimportantcase.Howdidyoucatchtheguy?”Shestartedlaughingagain.“Didyou
havethesuspectsdroptheirpantsanddoalineup?”

“Ha,ha,”Jacksaid,reachingaroundhertothrowawaytherestofthegarbage.“No,wecaughtthe

guybecausehegotVaselineonhishandswhilesmearingitonhisassduringoneofthejobs.Heleft
somefingerprintsbehindandwefoundamatch—he’dbeeninjailbeforeforrobbingaconvenience
store.”

“I wish I could’ve seen you making that arrest,” Cameron said, leaning against the counter and

takingasipofherwine.

“It was the highlight of my career,” Jack said dryly, putting the leftovers she’d dished into

Tupperware in the refrigerator. He shut the door and saw her watching him with a sudden serious

expression.

“What’swrong?”heasked.

“Ihavesomethingtotellyou,”shesaid.“Aboutwhathappenedthreeyearsago...I’mnottheone

whohadyoutransferredtoNebraska.”

Jackranhishandoverhismouthasthissankin.

“Talk.”

Twenty-one

JACKPACEDTHEroomwhileshetalked.

Cameron began first with the Martino case, thinking she might as well start at the beginning. She

told him about Silas’s decision not to prosecute, and his directive that she not speak to the FBI, or
anyone,abouthisdecision.

“Iwasnewtotheofficebackthen—Ididn’twanttorocktheboat,”shesaid.“Thingswouldbealot

differentifheandIhadthatconversationnow.”

Then she told him everything else: Silas’s attempts to get him fired, her contact at the DOJ, her

meetingwithDavistofillhiminonthesituation,evenherresponsetoDaviswhenhe’daskedwhy
shewantedtohelpoutJack.

“Your transfer to Nebraska wasn’t a great result, I realize, but it was better than being dismissed

fromserviceentirely,”shesaid.“ItwasthebestIcoulddounderthecircumstances.”

Whenshe’dfinished,Jacksaidnothing.Amomentpassedand...

Hestillsaidnothing.

Thenhefixedhisgazeonherandstalkedacrosstheroom.

Cameronbracedherself.Withthatkindoflookinhiseyes,hewaseithergoingtokillheror—

Hekissedher.Hot,demandingsweepsofhistongueagainsthers.Whenhedraggedhismouthaway

theywerebothoutofbreath.

“Whydidn’tyoutellmethisthreeyearsago,beforeIleft?”heasked.

“You told thirty million people I had my head up my ass. Funny how that turns a girl off from

havinganymeaningfulconversation.”

He smiled. “True. So where does that leave us now?” As if she had a clue. “I guess we should

probablytalkabouttherulesofoursituationhere.Youlivinginthishouse.Withme.”

Jack pulled back. “Right. Boundaries. Good idea.” He ran his hand through his hair and stood

againstthecounternexttoher.Heexhaledraggedlyandlookedover.“Ithinkthefirstthingweneed
totalkaboutisyounotrunningaroundintightT-shirtsandyogapants.”

“Fine.I’llstopdoingthatassoonasyoushave.”

Jackranhishandalonghisjawandgrinned.“Youlikethescruff,huh?”

Didsheever.

Hisjawtightened.“Iwarnedyouaboutlookingatmelikethat.”

Cameroncouldseeboththeheatinhiseyesandhisinternalstruggle.

Screwit.

Shecrossedthespacebetweenthemandkissedhim.Asifdispensingwiththepreliminaries—which

wasjustfinewithher—hegrabbedherbottomandliftedherup.Notbreakingtheirkiss,shewrapped
herlegsaroundhiswaistashecarriedheroutofthekitchenandupthestairs.

“This is probably a bad idea,” Cameron said as she ran her hands over his muscled arms and

shoulders,marvelingattheeasewithwhichhecarriedher.

Jackbitherlowerlipdaringly.“Sostopme.TellmeIshouldn’tgetinvolvedwithyouwhileyou’re

mywitness.”

Camerontangledherfingersthroughhisthickdarkhair.“Thatdoessoundcomplicated.”

Atthetopofthestairs,hepushedherbackagainstthewallandkissedherneck.“TellmeIshould

slowdown,”hemurmuredagainstthebaseofherthroat.

Cameronclosedhereyesandnearlymoaned.“Youprobablyshould.”Sheshiftedasshestraddled

him,settlingthehardbulgeinhisjeansrightbetweenherthighs.

Jacksuckedinhisbreathandcarriedherintothebedroom.“Tellmethisisjustsomesortofhero-

complexwithyou,becauseIsavedyourlifetoday.”

“Isupposethat’sentirelypossible.”

He laid her on top of the bed and crawled over her. His voice was husky. “Just tell me you don’t

wantthis,Cameron.”

Sheranafingeroverthecutabovehischeek.“Sorry.ButthatIwon’tsay.”

Jackkissedher,andsomethingsnappedinbothofthem.Cameronreachedforhisshoulderharness,

having no clue how to get the damn thing off. Jack’s hands roamed everywhere. He grabbed the
bottomofherT-shirt,readytoyankitoverherhead.

“Justwatchthestitches,”Cameronmumbledagainsthismouth.

“Fuck,”Jackhissedandsuddenlyrolledoffher.

“No—whereareyougoing?”Ifitwasanywhereotherthantograbacondom,theyweregoingto

havesomeseriouswords.Andlotsofthemweregoingtobeprofane.

“Youwereshottoday,”hesaidbetweenraggedbreaths.

“It’sokay,”Cameronsaid,reachingforhim.“It’sjustapointtwo,remember?”

Jackgrabbedherhandsandpinnedherdownonthebed.Shelookedonapprovingly.“Nowthat’s

morelikeit.”

“Christ,Cameron.IjustfoundoutthatI’vebeenahugeassholeforthelastthreeyears.Don’tmake

mebetheassholetonight,too.Let’satleastgetthispartright.You’rehurt,you’reemotional—Idon’t
wanttotakeadvantageofthat.”

Sheglaredupathim.“Whatalousytimeforyoutostartbeingniceagain.Ithoughtwetalkedabout

that.”

“Trust me—this isn’t any easier on me.” Jack climbed off the bed. “You need to rest tonight,

anyway. And if I don’t leave now, rest is the last thing you’ll be getting.” He held out his hand and
helpedherup.

Cameron got off the bed and followed him to the door. He hung in the doorway for a moment,

watchingher.Hishairwasrumpled,andhiseyeswereawarmchocolatecolor.Bedroomeyes,except
shehadn’tgottenthedamnbedroompart.

Sherestedagainstthedoorframe,closetohim.“Youknow,inthemorningI’llprobablybegrateful

youwereagentlemantonight.”

“Butnow?”

“Rightnowmyfeelingstowardyouarealotlesspleasant.”

Jack smiled. “I’m used to that by now.” He turned and headed down the hallway to the guest

bedroom.Hepausedbeforegoingin.“Bytheway,there’saman’ssweatshirtinmydresser.”

“WhiteSox?”Cameronasked.

“Yes.”

“It’sCollin’s.Hemust’veleftithereoneofthetimeshespentthenight.”

“Areyousureyoutwoarejustfriends?”heaskedsuspiciously.

Cameronlaughedatthis.“Yes.”

“Andareyousurehe’sgay?”

“Definitely.”

Jacknodded,seemingsatisfied.“Goodnight,Cameron.”

Thatwasthelastshesawofhimthatnight.

JACKCHANGEDINTOrunningpantsandaT-shirt,leavingthegunstrappedtohiscalf.Hepausedat
his doorway, listening to the sounds coming down the hall of Cameron getting ready for bed. He
unhurriedly went through his own routine, then checked his BlackBerry for any emails from the
office.Whenhefinishedwiththat,heproppedacouplepillowsagainsttheheadboardandlaydown,
tuckinghishandsbehindhishead.Hethoughtaboutcrackingopenthebookhe’dbrought,butwasn’t
exactlyinarelaxedframeofmind.

Hewaitedthirtyminutesfromthetimeheheardthenoisesstop,justtobesafe.

Hegotupandwalkeddownthehall.HeenteredCameron’sbedroomquietly,pausingjustinsidethe

doorwaytolistentothesoft,steadysoundsofherbreathing.Satisfiedshewassleeping,hemovedto
thecorneroftheroomandtookaseatonthefloornexttotheboarded-updoorsthatledouttothe

balconyandfireescape.Herestedhisheadagainstthewall.

Hesatthereinthedarknessandwatched.

He knew that sleep would eventually overtake him—he’d certainly slept in more uncomfortable

places—butitwouldbealight,dreamlesssleep.Hewouldbereadyinaninstant,ifnecessary.

Godhelpthemanwhotriedtogetpasthim.

Twenty-two

CAMERON WOKE UP disoriented the next morning. It took her a moment to shake off her bad
dreams,toreassureherselfthattheywere,infact,justdreams.

Shesatup,listeningforanysoundsinthequiethouse.Sheheardnothing,butthenagainshenever

heardJackunlesshewantedherto.Forasplitsecondshewonderedwhethersheshouldbeworried
about him, then realized (a) he was Jack, and (b) if anything had happened to him, she wouldn’t be
sittinginherbedwonderinganything,seeinghowshe’dbedeadandall.

Feelingstrangestillbeinginbed,knowinghewasawakesomewhereinherhouse,Camerongotup

andpaddedintothebathroom.Shebrushedherteethandturnedontheshower,lettingthewaterwarm
upassheundressed.Herinjuredshoulderyelledouttinyscreamsofprotestasshestretchedherarm
overherheadtotakeoffherT-shirt.Shepeeledbackthebandageandcheckedinthemirrortomake
sureeverythinglookedokay.

It was hardly a fun task, trying to shower and wash her hair while keeping her stitches as dry as

possible.Perthedoctor ’sorders,shewassupposedtoavoidgettingthemwetforthefirsttwenty-four
hours. She certainly could’ve used some help in the shower—an arrangement that would’ve been
possibleifacertainsomeonehadn’tdecideditwastimetobeallgentlemanly.

MuchgrumblingaboutJackensued.

Aftershowering,shedidaquickjobwithhermakeupbeforeheadingdownstairs.Sheleftherhair

toair-dry,figuringitwasn’tworthbotheringwithsinceshe’dlikelyjusthavetodoitagainbefore
Amy’srehearsaldinner.ShewalkedintothekitchenandfoundJackseatedatthecounter,working.

Heglancedatheroverhiscomputer.“Goodmorning.”

Helookedagain.Longerthistime.Shemayhave“forgotten”toputabraonthatmorning.Another

oops.

“Areyoukiddingmewiththat?”heasked.

“Dealwithit.Ihadareallyfuntimegettingalltheconditioneroutofmyhair,buddy.”

Jackchewedonthisforamoment.“Nope.Nocluewhatthatmeans.”

Figured. She noticed there was a freshly brewed pot of coffee waiting for her. She sighed.

Impossibleman—hemadeitmoreandmoredifficultforhertostaycrankywithhim.Sheusedtobe
sogoodatthat.

ShegrabbedherMichiganmugoutofthecabinetandpouredherselfacup.Shetookasipofthe

deliciouslyhotbeverageandslowlybegantofeelhumanagain.“Youlookbusy.”

“Gotafulldayaheadofus,”Jacksaid.

Withhisshort-sleevegrayT-shirt,jeans,anddamphair,helookedcasuallygorgeousandfartoo

alert.Cameronfiguredhemust’vesleptwellenoughintheguestbed.

Jackfrownedathiscomputer.“YouhaveaweakInternetsignal.”

Cameroncamearoundthecounterandtooktheseatnexttohim.“I’veneverhadaproblemwithit

before.”Assheglancedathiscomputer,shecaughtsightofthescaronhisforearm—inshortsleeves
itwashardtomiss:jagged,ugly,andseveralincheslong.SheknewfromreadingthefilesonJack’s
capturethattherewasascarontheothersideofhisarmaswell,wheretheknifehadcomeoutthe
otherside.

Shesaidnothingaboutthescar,notwantingtomakeJackuncomfortable.

“Notpretty,isit?”

Cameron silently chastised herself for being so unsubtle. Then again, Jack caught everything. “I

can’timaginehowmuchthatmust’vehurt.”Shelookedupandsawhimwatchingher.

“Abitmorethanapointtwo.”Heswitchedthesubject.“Sowe’vegotaboutafive-hourdriveahead

ofustoday.Thatmeanswe’llwanttogetontheroadnolaterthaneleveninordertogetyoutherein
timefortherehearsal.”

“I need to call Collin,” Cameron said, suddenly remembering. “After Richard bailed on him, we

decidedtodrivetogether.”

“I’ve already talked to Collin—he called earlier this morning to see how you were doing. He’s

goingtotakehisowncar.”

“Youansweredmyphone?”

Jackseemedtofindthequestionamusing.“Isthataproblem?”

“Youjustseemtobeonaroll,takingchargewitheverythingthismorning.”

“Perhapsweneedtosettherecordstraight,then.Nomatterwhathappenedlastnight—”

“Oh,butnothinghappenedlastnight,remember?”

“—whenitcomestoyoursafety,thisworkslikeanyotherprotectivesurveillancesituation.Which

meansthatI’mincharge,thisentireweekendandforhoweverlongittakesuntilwecatchthisguy.”
Consideringthatsettled,hepickedapinkPost-itpadoffthecounter.“Now—Ispoketoyourfriend
Amyaboutthewedding.”

Cameronglancedattheclockontheoven.“YoutalkedtoAmy,too?It’sonlyeightthirty.”

“Igotthenumberoffyourcellphone.Ineededtoaskhertoemailmetheguestlist.TheFBIteam

meetingusatthehotelwillsetupasecuritycheckpointatthewedding.Onlypeopleonthelistwillbe
abletogetin.”

“IbetAmywasthrilledaboutthat.”

“Actuallyshewas—shesaiditwouldmaketheweddingseem‘ultra-exclusive.’”Herifledthrough

the Post-it notes. “She had a few messages that she asked me to pass along to you, word-for-word.
First,shesaysnottoforgetthespecialmaidofhonorjewelryshegaveyou,becauseyouknowhow
much time she put into shopping for it and how important it is that you stand out from the other
bridesmaids.Second,sheaskedthatyouremoveallreferencestocollegedrinkingstoriesfromthe
roughdraftoftheweddingtoastyousentoverlastweek.Third,shesaidthatyoushouldn’tinterpret
herfirsttwomessagesaboutthejewelryandthetoastasasignthatshewasn’treally,reallyworried
abouteverythingthathappenedtoyoulastnight,andhowtouchedsheisthatyou’restillcomingto
thewedding.Finally,sheaskedifyouwouldn’tmindpretendingthatI’myourdatefortheweekend,
because she doesn’t want the other wedding guests thinking that the FBI is protecting you because
you’resomeMafiamistress-turned-snitch.”

Jacksetthenotepaddown.“Itoldherwewereokaywiththatlastpart.”

Thepartwheretheypretendtobeacouple.“Sowe’rea‘we’now?”

He grinned. “At least this weekend we are, sweetie. Shouldn’t be too hard of a cover to pull off,

consideringwe’llbestayinginthesamehotelroom.”

Ohboy.

THEIRFIVE-HOURcarridepassedquickly.

Things had changed for Jack, ever since he’d found out the truth about what had happened three

yearsago.Becauseofthatheaskedalotofquestions,wantingtolearnmoreaboutCameron.Healso
askedalotofquestionsbecauseheneededtokeephismindoffhowincredibleshelookedwithher
snug-fitting jeans tucked into knee-high brown suede riding boots and ivory V-neck sweater. The
outfit was a definite driving hazard—at the first lull in the conversation he’d started thinking about
her naked wearing nothing but the boots and riding him and had nearly driven the car onto the
highwaymedian.

Aroundthehalfwaypointofthedrive,theyfinallygotaroundtoasubjectJackwasverycurious

about.He’dbeentryingtofigureoutawaytosubtlybackintotheconversation,whenshebeathimto
it.

“WhydidyouaskifIusedtobemarried?”

Jackchosehiswordscarefully.“Yourhouseseemsbigforoneperson.Ithoughtmaybesomeone

usedtolivetherewithyou.”

Shestretchedherlegsoutinfrontofher,gettingmorecomfortable.Jackkepthiseyesontheroad

andnotonthenaughtyboots.Mostly.

“You’redyingtoknowhowIaffordit,aren’tyou?”Cameronasked,amused.

“Given that I accused you of accepting bribes the last time we talked about finances, you’ve

certainly earned the right to tell me it’s none of my business. But if you are inclined to share that
particularinformation,Iwouldbehappytolisten.”

Cameron laughed. “You could be a lawyer, with an answer like that. It’s nothing scandalous. I

inherited it. My grandmother lived in the house for years—it was the house my dad grew up in, in
fact.Mydadwasanonlychild,sowhenmygrandmotherdied,thehousewould’vegonetohim.But
hediedbeforeher,andsincemyparentshadgottendivorcedyearsbeforethat,thehousewenttome,

asmyfather ’sonlychild.Ithoughtaboutsellingitatfirst,butitdidn’tfeelright.Mygrandmother ’s
deathwassomewhatunexpected...shejustsortofgaveupaftermyfatherwaskilled.Afterlosing
herandmyfatherback-to-backlikethat,Icouldn’tstomachthethoughtofgivingupthehouse.Ithink
they’dbothbehappythatIkeptit.”

Jackglancedover,tryingtodecideiftheywereatapointintheirrelationshipwherehecouldask

the next obvious question. Given everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours, he
thoughttheywere.“Howdidyourfatherdie?”

Cameronpaused,andatfirsthethoughtshewasn’tgoingtoanswer.“HewasacophereinChicago.

Four years ago he was killed in the line of duty. He and his partner responded to a domestic
disturbance call at an apartment building—another tenant had called to complain. No one answered
thedoor,buttheycouldhearawomanyellinginside,somyfatherandhispartnergotthelandlord
and had him unlock the door. Once they got inside, they found drugs everywhere and realized it
wasn’tadomesticdisturbance,butadoped-outwomanscreamingthatthedealersweretryingtocheat
her.Assoonasthedealers—thereweretwoofthemsittingatthekitchentable—sawmydadandhis
partner,theystartedshooting.Mydad’spartnerwashitintheleg,andthelandlordtookabulletinthe
shoulder.Mydadfollowedoneoftheperpsintothebedroomwhereathirdguywastryingtoescape
throughthewindow.Hepanickedandshotmydadinthechestandstomach.”

Jackcouldonlyimaginehowmuchpainthatmust’vecausedher.“Fuck,Cameron...I’msorry.”

Hedidthemathinhisheadandquicklyputthingstogether.“Fouryearsago.That’swhenyoujoined
theU.S.attorney’soffice.”

“IwishIcouldtellyouthatthefirstthingIdidasaprosecutorwasputawaythescumbagwhokilled

mydad.NotthatIeverwould’vebeenallowedtotrythatcase.”

“Didtheycatchtheguy?”

She nodded. “He pled guilty to manslaughter in state court. It was quick, uneventful. Very . . .

unsatisfying.”

“Butnowyouputotherscumbagsawayforaliving.”

“Thatpartismoresatisfying.”

Theydroveinsilenceforamoment.“Youamazeme,Cameron.”

That got a slight smile out of her. “High praise, coming from someone who knows how to kill

peoplewithpaperclipsandeverything.”

Jacklookedoverinsurprise.“Youknowaboutthepaperclips?”Hestrokedhischin.“Hmm.Now

thatwasgood.Evenforme.”

Cameronstaredathim,stupefied.

Helaughed.“I’mjustkidding.”Mostly.Staplesmaybe,butneverpaperclips.“Speakingofyourjob

—and mine—there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, something that came up in the
meeting in Davis’s office. You mentioned that Silas knows about your connection to the Robards
case.”

“Davisseemedinterestedinthat,too.”

“IkeepthinkingabouthowSilastoldyoutobackofftheMartinocasethreeyearsago.Itwasone

thing when I thought you, the prosecutor who had reviewed all the investigation files, made the
decisionthattherewasn’tenoughevidencetotrythecase.ButnowthatIknowSilaspressuredyou
intonotfilingcharges,thewholethingleavesabadtasteinmymouth.Idon’ttrusthim.”

Cameronthoughtaboutthis.Jackcouldseeshewasrunningthroughthepossibilitiesinherhead.

“We need to be very careful here,” she said. “Silas is the U.S. attorney. We can’t start making

accusationsagainsthimmerelybecauseofbadfeelings.Youknowbetterthananyonehowvindictive
hecanbe.”

“It’sjustsomethingIwantyoutothinkabout.YouneedtobecarefularoundSilas.Andthefactthat

I’llbegoingtoworkwithyouonMondayisperfect—it’llgivemeachancetokeepaneyeontheson
ofabitch.Ifhesomuchaslooksatyouthewrongway,Imighthavetotryoutthatpaperclipideaof
yours.”

Cameronturnedherheadinhisdirection.“Thatwasveryominousofyou.”

“NowthatIknowhe’stheonewhoscrewedmeoverthreeyearsago,myfeelingstowardhim,to

useyourwords,arealotlesspleasant.”

“Ihopeyoucancontrolyourselfaroundhim,forbothoursakes.”

Jack took his eyes off the road and looked her over. “In all my years with the army and the FBI,

there’sonlybeenonepersonI’veeverhadanyproblemscontrollingmyselfaround.”

Shesmiledatthat,butsaidnothing.Shereclinedintheseat,crossingonenaughty-bootedlegover

theother,inhisdirection.Jackfoughthardagainsttheimagesofherstraddlinghimthatassaultedhis
mind.

“Youdorealizeyou’redrivingontheshoulder,don’tyou?”

“Thanksforpointingthatout,Cameron.”

Twenty-three

PER JACK’S ORDERS, they entered the Grand Traverse Resort through a back entrance and were
immediately escorted to the manager ’s office. Cameron had never stayed at the resort before but
quickly saw why Amy had been so impressed by it: with luxurious décor, over six hundred rooms,
gorgeous beach and fairway views, and a full-service spa, the property was indeed grand in every
sense of the word. Even Jack, who’d said he would move her to a different hotel if he wasn’t one
hundredpercentcomfortablewiththesecurityaspectsoftheresort,seemedtofinditacceptable.

“It’ll do,” he said in response to her silent question as they walked through the white marble and

cherrywoodhallway.

Jack had spoken to the manager on the phone and had explained the situation in general terms,

revealing no details. In the office, he requested a map of the hotel grounds, which he kept, and
emphasizedonebasicpoint:nooneoutsidethethreeofthemwastoknowthelocationofCameron’s
room.Heaskedforaprivateconferenceroomwherehecouldmeetwiththehotel’sheadofsecurity,

onethatheandthetwoagentscominginfromDetroitwouldalsouseasaworkingspacethroughout
theweekend.

Then he asked the manager whether the wedding guests had been assigned a particular block of

rooms.

“Yes,thebridereservedablockinthehotelitself,”themanagersaid.“Theweddingguestswillall

bestayinghere.”

“Perfect.DeleteCameron’sreservation,andbookusanewroomunderthenameDavidWarner.Put

usintheTower,”Jacksaid,referringtotheseventeen-storybuildinglocatedadjacenttothehotel.

“DavidWarner?”Cameronaskedafterthemanagerlefttogettheirroomkeys.

“Anoldaliasofmine,”Jacksaid.

“Ooh...analias.Whodoesthatmakeme?”

“Forthisweekend,IsupposeitmakesyouMrs.DavidWarner.”

“Hmm.I’mnotsureI’mthetypetotakemyhusband’sname.I’monthefenceaboutit.”

“Forthenexttwodays,youcanbethetype.”

“Boy,Mr.DavidWarnersureseemsalittlebossy.”

The manager poked his head into the office. “Sorry—I forgot to mention: the Tower

accommodationsareallstandardrooms,notsuites.I’mguessingyouwouldprefertwoqueenbeds
insteadofoneking?”

CameronandJacklookedateachother.Neitherspoke.

The manager shifted in the doorway. “I could always switch you back to the hotel, if you require

largeraccommodations.”

Jackshookhishead.“No.Iwanttobekeptapartfromtherestoftheweddingguests.Andthehigh-

riseisasaferlocation.Nobalconies,nowindowsaccessiblefromtheoutside,onlyonewayintothe
room.”

“We’lltaketwoqueenbeds,”Camerontoldthemanager,thinkingthatwasthesafestthingtosay.

Henodded.“Excellent.”Hetookoffagain.

Twentyminuteslater,astheybegantogetsettledin,Cameronrealizedthattheone-versus-two-beds

decision really didn’t matter. Bottom line: she and Jack were sharing a hotel room. And here she’d
thoughtlivingtogetherinafivethousandsquarefoothousehadseemedintimate.

She watched from the doorway as Jack checked out the closet and bathroom. When finished, he

headedover.“So?Whichbedwillitbe?”

“Excuseme?”

He laughed at her expression. “Which one do you want? I’ll put your suitcase on it so you can

unpack.”

“Oh.I’lltakethebedfartherfromthedoor.”

“Goodanswer.”

ShewatchedasJackliftedhersuitcaseontothebed,thenthrewhisduffelbagontotheonecloserto

thedoor.Shesuddenlyfelt...jittery.Upuntilnow,everytimesheandJackhadgottenphysical,ithad
been under crazy, impulsive circumstances. But staring at those two beds, she now found herself
consciouslythinkingaboutallthosethingsasinglewomaninherthirtiestendedtothinkaboutwhen
sharingahotelroomwithamanshewasreallyattractedto,andwhoappearedtobereallyattractedto
her,whoshehadn’tyetsleptwith.

Despiteallhersassandbravado,shewasfallingforJack.Justyesterday—God,wasitreallyonly

yesterday?—she’dtoldCollinthatallsheandJackhadbetweenthemwasaphysicalconnection.True,
she’dbeenlyingtoherself.Andalothadhappenedsincethen.Butshe’dneverfoundherselfwanting
tobewrongaboutsomethingasmuchasshedidrightthen.

ShetrustedJackwithherlife.Thenextquestion,shesupposed,waswhethershecouldtrusthimwith

herheart.

She watched as Jack threw some rolled-up socks into one of the drawers in his nightstand. He’d

takenoffhisblazer,sohisgunharnesswasexposedandhewaslookingextraSpecialAgentDanger-
ishrightthen.Butthatsingleact—puttingsocksinadrawer—madehimmomentarilyseemlikeany
otherguy.

“Youokay?”heasked,seeingherstillstandingbythedoor.

She smiled. “Yeah, sure.” She headed over and stood between the two beds, surveying the scene.

“MakesmethinkoftheWallsofJericho.”

“From...theBiblestory?”

Cameronlaughed.“No,ItHappenedOneNight.”

“Stillnotfollowingyouthere.Whathappenedonenight?”

“Youknow,themovie,ItHappenedOneNight.”Shesawhimshakehishead.“Really?Youshould

checkitout—it’saclassic.ClarkGableandClaudetteColbertareontherunandtheystoptospend
thenightatamotel.They’renotmarried,buttheyhavetopretendtheyare,soforpropriety’ssake
ClarkGablestringsaclotheslinedownthemiddleoftheroomandhangsablanketoverit.Hecallsit
the‘WallsofJericho.’”

Jack stretched out on the bed, tucking his hands behind his head. Of course, being a man, he was

already done unpacking and she had barely begun. “So in the movie, after he builds the Walls of
Jericho,whathappensnext?”heasked.

“Things get pret-ty steamy from there. Clark Gable asks Claudette Colbert if she’s interested in

learninghowamanundresses.Andthenhetakeshisclothesoffinfrontofher.”

“Soundslikeachick-flick.IbetWilkinshasseenittentimes.”

“Andgoodforhim.Ithinkmostmencouldlearnathingortwofromso-called‘chick-flicks.’”

“Likewhat?”

“Likehowwomenthink.Whatturnsthemon.”

“IfIwanttoknowwhatawoman’sthinking,I’lljustaskher.”ThecornersofJack’smouthliftedin

aslygrin.“AndifIwanttoknowwhatturnsheron,well,I’lljustaskherthat,too.”

“Hmm.”Camerongrumbledherwayintothebathroom.Impossibleman—beingallreasonableand

everything. She unpacked her toothpaste, toothbrush, shampoo, and conditioner. She set them off to
the side on the marble vanity, as if to suggest they were the only four products she would need the
entire weekend. Hey—he was a man, he didn’t need to know there was a whole routine involved
behindthecurtain.Andaboutfourteenotherbottlesinhersuitcase.

Whenshecameoutofthebathroom,shesawJackstandingbythewindowsthatspannedthelength

oftheroom.Hegestured.“Comeoverhereforaminute.”

Shewentover.Hesurprisedherbypullingherintohisarms,herbackagainsthischestsothatshe

looked out the window with him. Their room overlooked vibrant autumn-colored rolling hills and
orchards,andtheEastGrandTraverseBay.

“Ilikethisview,”hesaid,hisvoicehuskyagainstherear.

Cameronleanedherheadagainsthischest—itwasraretohavesuchaquietmomentwithJackin

contrast to the chaos that had overshadowed their lives for the last couple of weeks. She pulled his
armstighteraroundher.

“Me,too.”

FORTHEDINNERthatfollowedtherehearsal,AmyhadreservedtheentirespaceatAerieLounge,
which was located on the sixteenth floor of the Tower. A convenient short elevator ride from
CameronandJack’sroom.NotsoconvenientforCameron,however,wasthefactthatthecousinshad
corneredherbythefloor-to-ceilingwindowsoverlookingthebay,wantingtoplayTwentyQuestions
about Jack. Having recognized him from the bachelorette party, they’d been on her case ever since
she’dwalkedintotherehearsalwithhim.

Cameronwasrelievedwhenshefeltahandatherelbowandheardafamiliarvoicetotheleftof

her.

“Sorrytointerrupt,ladies.IneedtoborrowCameronforafewminutes.”

“Pleasemakeitmorethanafew,”shewhisperedasCollinledhertotheoppositesideoftheroom.

Shekissedhischeekinanofficialhello.SinceAmyhadaskedCollintobeareaderatthewedding,

hehadbeenattherehearsal,too.Butshe’dbeenrunningaroundwithvariousmaidofhonortasksand
hadn’tgottenthechancetotalktohimthere.

“Imeanttotellyouattherehearsal:youlookverydashingtonight.Lovethenavysportcoatand

tie,”shesaid,gentlytuggingit.

“RichardgaveittomelastChristmas,”Collinsaid.

Cameronsawthehurtinhiseyesandknewhowrareitwasforhimtoshowthat.“Areyoudoing

okay?”

Henodded.“Just...workingthroughsomethings.Gaymaninhisthirties,dateless,thefifthwheel

athisfriend’swedding.Thatkindofstuff.”Hiseyesheldhers.“Andasidefromallthat,Imisshim.”

“Richardis a fool,”Cameron said. “Andyou’re not a fifthwheel. Technically, Ionly have a fake

datetothiswedding.”

Collin scoffed at this. “Looking like that, that won’t be the case for long.” He checked out her

caramel-colored cocktail dress and heels. Her shoulder had begun bothering her midway through
straightening her hair, so she’d pulled it back in a chignon and focused on smoky-eyed makeup
instead. “I’m surprised Pallas let you out of the room like that,” he said. “At least without being a
goodhourlatetotherehearsal.”

“AndriskAmy’swrath?Noway—thatwomanscaresevenme,”Jacksaidfrombehindthem.

AsJackjoinedthem,hemomentarilyrestedhishandonthesmallofCameron’sback.Shefacedthe

party,sonoonesaw,butherbodywentwarmjustatthebriefcontact.

“Ithoughtyoucoulduseadrink.”Hehandedheraglassofredwine.

Cameron smiled—partially because she’d been meaning to make it over to the bar for twenty

minutesbeforebeingcorneredbythecousins,andpartiallybecauseshecouldn’tgetoverhowsexy
Jacklookedinhisgrayblazerandopen-neckedblackshirt.

“Thankyou,”shesaid.

Jackleanedin,andforasecondCameronthoughthewasgoingtokissher.“Youdidn’ttellmethis

weddingwasoutside,”hesaidquietly.

“I didn’t think about it. From everything Amy’s told me about the setup, I barely consider it an

outdoor wedding. Will that be a problem?” The last thing she wanted to do was make his job even
harder.

“IpromisedI’dgetyoutothiswedding.I’llhandleit.”Withhisbacktotheotherguestssononeof

themcouldsee,Jacklacedhisfingerswithhersandpulledhercloser,speakinglowenoughsoonly
shecouldhear.“Collinisright,youknow.You’relivingverydangerouslylookingthewayyoudo
tonight,CameronLynde.”Hebrushedhisthumboverhersbeforeleaving.

CameronwatchedasJackheadedovertoabartablebythedoorwherethetwoFBIagentsfromthe

Detroitofficesat.Shesippedherwineandtookhertimesimplyenjoyingtheviewofhim.

He’dbroughtheradrinkandcomplimentedthewayshelooked.Thisfakedateofherswasstarting

toseemmorerealeveryminute.

SheturnedtoCollin.“ItmeansthatI’mthestupidestpersonintheworld,right?ThatI’mactually

excitedandhappydespitehavingapsychokillerstalkingme?”

Collinpeereddownather.“Ithinkyouknowwhatitmeans.”

Heclinkedhisglasstohers.

LATERTHATEVENING,Jacksatinbed,thepillowproppedbehindhisback,whilehetalkedonhis
cellphone.He’dcalledWilkinstoseeiftherehadbeenanydevelopmentsintheinvestigation,hoping
that something had panned out with one of the Chicago cops his partner had spoken to. So far,
unfortunately,noneofthemappearedtohaveleakedanyinformationaboutCameron’sinvolvement
inthecase.

“How’sitgoingonyourend?”Wilkinsasked.“Youhavinganyfunupthere?”

Of course, Cameron chose that moment to poke her head out of the bathroom. “Hey—is there a

tricktogettinghotwaterinthisplace?”

“Youhavetoletthefaucetrunforagoodfiveminutes.”

Jackturnedbacktohisphonecall.

“You’resharingaroomwithher,huh?”Wilkinsasked.

JackthoughtofhowCameronlookedinthatcaramel-coloreddress.He’dneverseenherwearher

hairlikethatbefore,northatsultrythingshe’ddonewithhereyemakeup.She’dlookedsophisticated
yet incredibly beddable, and as a result, he’d been at half-mast all evening. Full-mast when he’d
watchedhereatthemaraschinocherryfromCollin’sdrink.ThankGodhe’dbeenstandingbehinda
tableatthetime.

HeendedtheconversationbeforeWilkinsstartedaskingthosekindsofquestionsWilkinslikedto

ask,questionsJackhadnointentionofanswering.Hewasaprivatepersontostartwith,andwhenit
cametoCameron,evenmoreso.Hehungupthephoneandrestedhisheadagainsttheheadboard.

Heknewwhathehadtodo.Itkilledhim,butheknew.

Hegrabbedhiscomputerandtriedtodistracthimselfwithwork.Hedidn’thaveawholeheckofa

lotofsuccesswiththat,whichwasexactlytheproblem.

Cameronfinishedupinthebathroomandsteppedout.ThefirstthingJacknoticedwasheroutfit.

Hefrowned.“Don’tyouhaveanythinglessskimpythanthat?”

Cameron glanced down at her sleeping attire, one of those velour tracksuit things. “I’m wearing

pants,aT-shirt,andazip-uphoodie.”

Jackgruntedhisdispleasure.

Cameroncamearoundthesideofherbedthatwasclosertohis.“Somebodyseemsalittlecranky.”

Yes, somebody was. Because somebody was trying to do the right thing despite the fact that

somebody else apparently wanted to torture him with—sweet Jesus she was bending over the bed
rightinfrontofhimtoadjustthepillows,andthosevelourpantsstretchedtightacrossheramazing
assthatwouldfitperfectlyinhishandsashelicked—

“That’sit,lightsout.Wehaveabigdayahead.”Jackflickedoffthelamponthenightstandandthe

lastthinghesawwasCameron’sbewilderedexpressionbeforetheroomwentdark.Hedidn’tcare.If
hesomuchaslookedatherrightthen,he’dbedonefor.

“SoItakeitthatmeanswe’regoingtosleepnow.”Throughthedarkness,shesoundedsomewhat

amused.

Jackdebatedoverhisnextcourseofaction.Hegotoutofbedandwentovertohers.Hiseyeshad

adjustedtothedarknessandhecouldseeherunderneaththecovers,outlinedbythemoonlight.Hesat
downonthebednexttoher.

“I’m trying to stay focused here, Cameron. My first priority this weekend has to be to keep you

safe.”

“Ofcourse—Iwasjustteasing,Jack.”

“I need to be extra vigilant tomorrow, especially now that I know the wedding is going to be

outside.Thatchangesthegame—morethanever,Ican’tbedistracted.”

“Iunderstand.Really,youdon’thavetosayanythingelse.”

Inthemoonlight,hereyesshimmeredupathimlikestonesinastream.Unabletoresist,hereached

outandtouchedherlong,darkhairthatfannedoverthepillow.“IthinkI’llbegladwhenthiswedding
isover.”

Hecouldseehersmile.“Youandprettymucheverypersonwho’shadcontactwithAmyoverthe

lasteightmonths.”

“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page with this.” Jack pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.

“Now—no matter what happens next, keep these covers up. Think of it as the twenty-first century
versionoftheWallsofJericho.”

Shelookedathiminconfusion.“Okay...”

“Promiseme,Cameron.Nomatterwhathappens.”

“Ipromise.Butwhy?”

“BecauseI’mgoingtokissyougoodnight.”Withthat,heleanedforwardandcapturedhermouth

with his. She threaded her hand through his hair and kissed him back, meeting his tongue hungrily
withhers.ThenextthingJackknew,hewasonthebedwithherpinnedbeneathhim.Underneaththe
blanket,shespreadherlegsandhesankbetweenthemgreedily.Hewashardasarockandthrobbing
beingthisclosetoher,andwhenshearchedherhipsagainsthim,henearlylostit.

“You’regoingtoruinmeasanagent,”hemurmuredhuskily.“OnceIgetinsideyou,I’mnotgoing

tobeabletothinkaboutanythingelseexceptdoingitagainandagain.”Hishandswenttotheedgeof
thecovers.Bulletshadn’tstoppedhim,andthiswasablanket.“I’llmakeitsofuckinggoodforyou...
.”Hekissedherneck,herthroat,wantingtogolower,wantingtotastehereverywhere.

Cameronexhaledunsteadily.“Youaresonotplayingfair.”Butshedidn’tletgoofthecovers.

Jackburiedhisheadinthepillow,strugglingforthatlastshredofcontrol.Heliftedhimselfoffthe

bedandgrabbedhisgunoffthenightstand.

Hehandedittoher.“Takeit.”

Hereyeswentwide,amixtureofsurpriseandamusement.“Okay.IfIhavetoshootyoutokeepyou

awayfromme,Ithinkweshouldjustthrowinthetowelandsayscrewittothewedding.”

“It’snotforme.Iwantyoutokeepyoureyeonthedoorforthenextfiveminutes.I’mgoingtotake

acoldshower.”

Twenty-four

“WILLYOUJUSTsleepwithhimalready?”

Cameronlookedaroundthesalon.“Maybeyoucouldsaythatjustalittlelouder,Ame.I’mnotsure

everyoneheardyouoverthehairdryers.”

Thankfully,Jackwaswaitingupfront,sparingheratleastsomeembarrassmentfromherfriend’s

comment.Whenthey’dfirstarrived,he’dconductedacheckoftheentirespaandsalonarea,thenhad
positionedhimselfbythedoorthatwastheonlywayinandout.

SheandAmysatnexttoeachother,gettingthefinishingtouchesontheirmakeup.“Thereareafew

thingsgoingonwithusrightnow,youknow,”Cameronsaidpointedly.“Likethatslightlystickyissue
withmebeingattackedinmyhomebyanarmedintruder.”

Amyimmediatelylookedcontrite.“You’reright—thatwasasillythingtosay.Youhavealotmore

importantthingstoworryaboutthanmywedding.”

CameronandAmysharedalookinthemirror.

“Wow.Ievenshockedmyselfwiththatone.”Amygrinned.“Well,luckily,you’llbedonehavingto

putupwithmeinjustafewhours.Ibetyoucan’twait.”

“Don’tbecrazy—there’snoplaceI’dratherbethisweekendthanrighthere.Evenifyouhavebeen

aroyalpainintheass.”

Amylaughedandwipedhereyes.“Stop,you’regoingtomakemecrywithallthismushycrap.”

ThemakeupartistapplyingAmy’sblushpointedsternly.“Don’ttouchyoureyes.Thisissomeof

mybestwork.”

The purple-haired, multi-tattooed and pierced cosmetologist doing Cameron’s makeup chimed in

withherorders.“Lookattheground.”

Cameronobeyed,tryingnottoblinkasthewomanputasecondcoatofmascaraonherlashes.

“That’swaterproof,right?”sheheardAmyaskhertechnician.

“Ofcourse,”heassuredher.

“Youcanlookupnow,”PurpleHairsaidwhenshehadfinished.

Cameron peered back up at Amy in the mirror. “Besides, I generally have this rule about not

sleepingwithaguyuntilhe’stakenmeoutonsomekindofdate.”

“Whenhesavesyourlife,Ithinkyoucanbypassthatpart.”

“He did have dinner delivered the other night, although I think the FBI picked up the tab. Do you

thinkIcancountthat?”

Purple Hair stopped dusting blush over Cameron’s cheeks. “Hold up. Are you talking about the

dark-hairedguywhocameinwithyou?TheonewhosearchedmebeforeIcoulddoyourmakeup?”

Camerongrimaced.“Sorryaboutthat.”

“Don’t be—it was the highlight of my month.” Purple Hair threw her a get-real stare. “That’s the

guyyou’reholdingouton?Sweetie,youneedtograbthatstallionandridehimlikeacowgirl.”

“I...don’treallyknowyou,butthanksfortheadvice.”

PurpleHairwinked.“Comeswiththemakeup.Whatdoyouthink?”

Cameroncheckedherselfoutinthemirror.They’dleftherhairdown,withwavesandalotmore

volumethanshecouldeverreplicateonherown.Andthemakeup,whichhadfeltlikealotgoingon,
looked perfect and made her lips look fuller, her cheekbones more defined, and added a sparkle to
hereyes.“Itlooksnice.”

Amysnorted.“Nice?Giveitarest.”Shecameupinthechairbehindher,lookingmismatchedyet

still elegant with her hair pulled back in an elaborate twist under her veil, and her jeans and white
button-downshirt.SheputherarmsaroundCameron.“You’reluckyIloveyousomuch,toletyou
looklikethatonmyweddingday.”

“Youlookgorgeous,Ame.”Noexaggeratingthere—minusthejeansandbutton-downshirt,Amy

wastheverypictureofablonde,fairy-talebeauty.“Aaronisgoingtobeknockedoffhisfeetwhenhe
seesyoucomingdowntheaisle.”

“Hebetternotbe.That’lllookterribleontheweddingvideo.”

The two women shared a laugh, and Amy inhaled excitedly. “So? Want to help me get into my

dress?”

Cameronnodded.“Youbet.”

“WHAT’S WITH AGENTS O’Donnell and Rawlings? Why couldn’t we just bring Jack with us?”
CameronaskedasshefollowedAmyoutside.ThetwoFBIagentswalkedafewpacesbehindthem.

“BecauseIconsiderJackaweddingguest,andyouaretheonlyguestwhogetsthesneakpreview.

Besides,Jackneededafewminutestogetreadyforthewedding.”

Cameronsteppedgingerlyinhersilverheelsoffthewalkwayandontoawhitefabricrunner.She

followed Amy across the lawn to the enormous white domed tent that had been set up on a hill
overlookingthebay.

Cameron took small, careful steps in her bridesmaid dress, although there probably wasn’t much

needtodoso.Thedresswasfittedbuthadaslitononesideathercalfthatmadeiteasiertowalk.
Overthelasteightmonths,theonepartofAmy’spickinessthatshedidn’tmindintheleasthadbeen
her selection of the maid of honor dress—the same color and material as the bridesmaid dresses
MelanieandJolenewerewearing,butdifferentinstyle.Handpickedjustforher,Amyhadsaid.And
whenshe’dsaidnextthatthedresswasfuchsia,Cameronhadnearlyhandedoverhermaidofhonor
badgerightthere.

Thenshe’dseenthedressAmyhadchosenforher.Halter-styleandprettyfromthefront,butthat

wasnothingcomparedtotheback.

Or,rather,thefactthattherewasn’tanybacktothedress.

Afterthat,CameronhadshuthermouthandvowedtoneverquestionAmy’sjudgmentinanything

bridal-relatedagain.

“Areyousureyoushouldbeouthereinyourdress?”CamerontheDutifulMaidofHonorasked

Amynervously.“Whatifyoutripandgetagrassstainonitorsomething?”Backwhenthey’dgone
dress shopping, she’d nearly choked at the price of the one Amy had chosen, a blush and ivory
strapless taffeta Carolina Herrera with intricate ruffle detailing worthy of a nineteenth-century ball
gown.

Amyshrugged.“ThenIguessI’lljusthavetodealwithit.”

Cameronblinked.“Okay.Whoareyouandwhathaveyoudonewithmyfriend?”

Amylaughedastheycametotheendoftherunner.ShewaitedasAgentRawlingssteppedintothe

tenttocheckthingsout.Whenhenodded,shegrabbedCameron’shand.“Sowhenguestsstepinside
thetentthroughthismainentrancehere”—shepulledCameroninside—“they’llseethis.”

Foramoment,Cameronwasspeechless.

Itwasbreathtaking.Theresimplywasnootherwaytodescribeit.Theystoodattheentranceofthe

tent,facingthealtar.Thefabricrunnercontinuedon,becomingawhitecenteraisleacrossthegrass
that divided the silver and white Versailles chairs guests would sit on. Scattered across the runner
werefuchsiaandredrosepetalsandmultihuedleavesuponwhichAmyandthebridesmaidswould
walk. Along the aisle, all the way to the altar, were tall pillar candles that glowed softly. The altar
itselfwasasitetobehold,litelegantlywithadditionalwhiteandsilvercandlesandadornedwithmore
redandfuschsiarosesthanCameronhadeverseen.

Themoststrikingfeature,however,wasthethousandsoftinysilverlightsarrangedineleganttiers

acrossthetopofthetent.Atnight,sheimagined,itwouldlookjustlikeastarlitsky.

Cameronsteppedfartherintothetent,takingitallin.

“Andwe’llhaveaharpisthereattheentranceway,toplaymusicasthegueststaketheirseats,”Amy

wassaying.“Theceremonyisatsixthirty,whichwillberightatsunset.Afterward,whilewetakeour
picturesandtheguestshavecocktailsandappetizersbackatthatgazebowepassed,they’llsetupthe
tables for the reception. The string quartet will be over there for the ceremony, which is where the
bandwillgoforthereception.They’llsetupadanceflooroverhere...Oh,didImentiontheheat
lamps?See—hiddenalongtheperimeterthere?Wehadahellofatimefiguringoutwhattodowith
alltheelectriccords...”

Amy paused and looked anxiously at Cameron. “You haven’t said anything. Do you think it’s too

much?”

Cameronshookherhead.“No.Youdidit,Amy.Itreallyisthemostperfectweddingever.”

Amysmiled.“WeusedtocomehereeveryLaborDayweekendwhenIwasakid.IthinkIwasnine

yearsoldthefirsttime.Iknew,eventhen,thatthiswastheplaceIwantedtogetmarried.”

Theybothturnedatthesoundofadispleasedvoicecomingupthepathbehindthem.

“ItoldAmyshecouldhavetwentyminuteswithyouguys,”JackwassayingtoAgentsO’Donnell

andRawlings,whostoodattentivelyattheentrancetothetent.“It’sbeennearlytwenty-fiveminutes
andI—”

CameronlookedoverhershoulderjustasJackstalkedintothetent.Hegothisfirstglimpseofthe

backofherdress.Orlackthereof.

Hestoppeddeadinhistracks.

“Wow.”

HiseyeslingeredonherforanothermomentbeforeheturnedtoAmy,gesturing.“Thisplacelooks

great,Amy.Youdidonehellofajob.”

Amygrinned.“Nicerecovery,Jack.”

Cameron walked over and touched Jack’s face, unable to resist. “You shaved.” She took in the

classically handsome chiseled features he’d been hiding underneath the scruff, as well as how
incrediblehelookedinhisdarkgraysuit.Itshould’vebeenillegalforamantowalkaroundlikethat
withoutsomesortofpermit.

Jackgrinnedasshecheckedouthissmoothjaw.“Don’tworry—it’llbebackinabouttwohours.”

Hetookhistimelookingherover.“Youlookstunning.”

Frombehindthem,Amyclearedherthroat.“Nottobreakthisup,butwehavethisweddingtogetto

...Cameron—youhaveyouritineraryfortonight?”

“Yep.Inmypurse.”

“Jack?”

Hepattedhisblazer.“Gotallsixpagesrighthere.”

“Asindicatedonpagetwo,I’llseeyouinthegazeboforbridalpartypicturesinfiveminutes.”Amy

pointed at Cameron. “Don’t be late and make me regret choosing you for this position instead of
Collin.”

“Washeseriouslyintherunning?”Cameronasked,slightlyoffendedbythis.

“Only briefly. But I figured his wedding toast would be filled with all sorts of lame sports

references.”Amy’sexpressionwasstern.“I’mexpectingmuchbetterthingsfromyou.”Sheleftina
whirlofblushandivorytaffeta.

JacknoddedatAgentsRawlingsandO’Donnell,whosteppedoutsideforamoment,leavingthem

alone.

Withawarmsmile,heturnedtoCameronandheldouthishand.“So?Areyoureadyforthis?”

Shetookhishand,lacingherfingersthroughhis.

“Definitely.”

AMIDSTTHECLAPPINGandcheering,JackescortedCameronbacktotheirtable.Heleanedinto
congratulateheronajobwelldonewhenCollinraisedhisglassandbeathimtoit.

“Fantastictoast,”Collinsaidenthusiastically.“Afewlaughs,afewtears—seriously,yousmokedthe

bestman.”

Cameron shushed him as she took the seat between him and Jack, with a pointed glance in the

direction of the other two couples at their table. Friends of the groom, she had whispered to Jack
earlier—partofAmy’splantoencouragemixingandconversationamongstthevariousgroups.He’d
actually already known who they were, and who they were friends with, along with their full credit

history and lack of priors, having texted their names to Wilkins for background checks as soon as
they’dintroducedthemselves.

AsJackstoodbehindCameron,helpingherwithherchair,hetriedtofocusonanythingotherthan

thebaresatinyskinathisfingertips.Itwasquiteartful,thewaythedresscoveredherjustso,rightat
thecurveofherlowerback.Aninchlowerandhemightbeabletoseecheek...

Hewasgoingoutofhisdamnmind.

“Aren’tbridesmaidsdressessupposedtobeugly?”hegrumbledashetooktheseatnexttoher.

“Asif Amy wouldlet any partof this wedding beugly,” Cameron said.Underneath the table, she

restedherhandonhisthighandsqueezedgently.

Jack sucked in his breath through gritted teeth. On the other side of her, however, Collin seemed

whollyunfazedbyCameron’sappearance.Jackkeptoneeyecarefullytrainedonhim,thinkingthings
hadbetterstaythatway.Gayornot,bestfriendornot,noonewithadickwasgettingwithinafootof
Cameronwhilesheworethatdress.

“My only criticism of the speech is that I didn’t get as much airtime as I deserved,” Collin

complained.

Cameron brushed this off. “You got plenty of airtime. I talked about how the three of us lived

together senior year, didn’t I? I even mentioned how you used to make pancakes for me and Amy
whenwegothomefromthebars.”

“We’dtalkabouttheboyswe’dmetthatnight,”CollinexplainedtoJack.

Jackwascuriousaboutthis.PlusheneededsomethingtokeephismindoffCameroninthatdress.

“Howdidthethreeofyoumeet?”

CameronstartedtoanswerwhenCollinheldupahand,cuttingheroff.“Ahem.Sincenooneasked

metogiveatoastatthiswedding,Iwillhandlethisquestion.Besides,Itellthisstorybetterthanyou
do.”

Collinsatforwardinhischair,loweringhisvoicedramatically.“Itwasadarkandstormynight.”

Cameronrolledhereyes.“Ohboy.”

Collin held up his hands. “What? It was a dark and stormy night. I should know—I walked you

homethatevening,remember?”HeturnedbacktoJack.“Itwasoursophomoreyear.Iwaslivingin
myfraternityhouseandhadbeenhavingaroughtimeofthingsincollege,strugglingwiththeissue
of whether I was gay. I was at Michigan on a baseball scholarship and homosexuality was not
somethingonediscussedcasuallywithintheathleticcircles.Anyway,onenightearlyintheyear,my
fraternity had an after-hours party and it was pouring outside. I was hanging out by the front door,
drinking my usual—which back then was Jim Beam and Coke—when Cameron blew in, huddled
underaredumbrellawithAmyandanothergirl.Theywerealllaughing,andwhentheyclosedthe
umbrella, Cameron stepped into the room and shook out her hair. It was like something out of a
movie—shewasthemostbeautifulgirlI’deverseen.”

Jacktoyedwithhissilverware.Thisstorycouldgosouthveryquickly...Whenhishandcameto

restonhissteakknife,thismayormaynothavebeenmerelyacoincidence.

“SoIstruckupaconversationwithherandwehititoffrightaway,”Collincontinued.“Westarted

meeting up after classes, on the weekends, and I knew that this was it: if it was ever going to work
withawoman,shewastheone.Acoupleweekslater,wewerehangingoutinmyroomonaSaturday
nightandIhaditallplannedout—thatwasthenightIwasgoingtomakemymove.

“Weweresittingonmycouchlisteningtotheradio—itwasaneightiesflashbacknight—and‘Bette

DavisEyes’cameon.AndCameronsighedandrestedherheadagainstthebackofthecouchandsaid,
‘Ilikethissong.’”

Cameroncutinhere.“Thenyouinchedclosertomeandturnedyourfacetomine.Andyousaid,‘I

likethissong,too.’”

“AndIknewthatwasthemoment,”Collinsaid.“SoIleanedoverandkissedher.”

CamerontookherhandoffJack’sthighandremovedthesteakknifethatmysteriouslyhadmadeits

way into his grip. He threw her an innocent look. Like he would ever harm one precious hair on
Collin’shead...withwitnessesaround.

Nearing the climax of his story—for his sake, hopefully only in the literary sense—Collin

continued.“Thekisswentonforabit,andI’mtellingmyself,‘Okay,maybethisisactuallyworking.’
SoIpullbacktoseeifshe’sintoit,andshegazesupatmewithsortofanamusedexpressionand
says...”HegesturedtoCameron.

“‘I’velickedstampswhoweremoreexcitedthanyoubythatkiss.’”

Jackburstoutlaughing.

Collinshookhisheadwithagrin.“Iknow,right?Jack,I’mtellingyou—Iwascrushed.Butonlyfor

amoment,becausethenshereachedupandheldmyfacebetweenherhandsandsaid,‘Collin—we’re
friends,right?’AndIknew,evenafteronlyafewweeks,thatthiswasapersonwhowasgoingtobea
veryimportantpartofmylife.SoInoddedyes,andshesays,‘Good.Thenlistentome:youneedto
getoveryourselfandjustadmityou’regay.’”

CollinlookedatCameron.“Hearingitsaidsomatter-of-factlylikethatwasliberating.Sothenext

day,Idecidedtogotoaverydifferenttypeofafter-hoursparty,ontheothersideofcampus.AndI
kissedaguyforthefirsttime.”

“Patrick,”Cameronsaid.

“Youremember.”

“OfcourseIremember.”

Collinsmiled.“AndwhenIgothomethatnight,shewasthefirstpersonIcalledtotellaboutit.”

Cameroncoveredhishandwithhers.“You’reright.Youdotellthatstorybetterthanme.”

“Ilikeit,”saidavoicefrombehindthem.“I’veneverhearditbefore.”

Jackinstinctivelyrestedhishandontheharnessunderhissuitasthethreeofthemwatchedablond,

athleticallybuiltmaninawell-cutsuitapproachtheirtable.

Collin,whoappearedshocked,wasthefirsttospeak.“Richard.”

Jackrelaxed,recognizingthename.Theex-boyfriendwho’drefusedtocometothewedding.

“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Collinaskedhim.

Richard’sfacemomentarilyfilledwithemotionatthesightofCollin,thenhecollectedhimselfand

checkedoutthereception.“SothisisMichigan.Notbad.”

TherewasanawkwardpauseasCollinremainedsilent.Richardshiftednervously.

JackwhisperedinCameron’sear.“Whydon’twegodance?”

“Ithinkthat’sagreatidea,”shesaid.

TheysaidquickhellostoRichardbeforeheadingovertothedancefloortogivethemsomespace.

Cameronglancedoverhershoulder,andJack’seyesfollowedhersandsawthatRichardhadtakenthe
seat next to Collin and appeared to be doing most of the talking. Collin was at least listening,
however,andatonepointherestedhishandonthebackofRichard’schair.Cameronsmiledatthe
sightandturnedbacktoJack.

Heledhertowardthefarcornerofthedancefloor,wherehecouldbealonewithherwhilekeeping

his eye on everyone else. Taking her hand in his, Jack pulled Cameron into his arms. He held her
closewithhisotherhandonherbarelowerbackastheybegantodance.Theyfitperfectlytogether;
inherhigh-heeledshoes,thetopofherheadcamerighttohischin.

“Thankyouforthis.Foreverything.Iwouldn’thavehadthisnightifitwasn’tforyou,”shesaid.

“I’mjustsorrywecouldn’tbehereunderdifferentcircumstances.”

“Ifthereweredifferentcircumstances,youwouldn’tbehereatall.”Sheshiftedclosertohim.“I’m

gladyouweretheonewhowalkedintomyhotelroomthatnight,Jack.”

He smiled. “What a change—two weeks ago you hated pretty much everything about me walking

intothatroom.”

“Thatconversationwouldgoalotdifferentlyifwehaditnow.Forstarters...Idon’tthinkthere’d

bemuchactualconversation,”shesaidinathroatyvoice.

Jack’seyesboredintohers.“I’mattheedge,Cameron.Treadcautiously.”

Sheshookherhead,no.“Ithinkit’stimeforustoleavethiswedding.”

“Ifwegonow,there’snocomingback.You’remineallnight.”

Hereyesflashed.“Promise?”

Thatwasit.

Jackgrabbedherhandandpulledheroffthedancefloor,towardthemainentranceofthetent.He

stoppedbeforeAgentRawlings,whohadbeenpostedthereallevening.

“We’re heading back to the room,” Jack said. “You and O’Donnell should keep watch over the

Towerlobby—boththeelevatorsandtheemergencystairwell.”HeledCameronoutofthetent.The
whiterunnerwentonedirection,buthetookheracrossthelawntowardtheTower.Andtheirroom.

Cameronthrewhimalook.“Nice.Rawlingsprobablyknowsexactlywhatwe’regoingtodo.”

“Cameron,withthewayyoulooktonight,everymanatthisweddingknowsexactlywhatIplanto

dowithyou.”

“Wow,thatmaybethesexiestthinganymanhasever—shit—I’mruiningmyheelsinthisgrass.I

keepsinkingin.”

Withoutbreakingstride,Jackliftedherintohisarmsandcarriedher.

“Icould’vejusttakentheshoesoff,”Cameronsaidwithasmile.

“I’mnotwastingtimewhileyouundothosedamnstraps.”

HegotherinsidetheTowerlobby,setherdown,andledherintoanelevator.Hepushedthebutton

fortheirfloor.Theminutetheelevatordoorsshut,shereachedforhim.Jackcaughtherhandsand
spunheraround,herbackagainsthischest.

“Not yet, baby,” he said huskily in her ear. “I need to get you into that room safely.” He held her

handstightly,doubtinghecouldtakeitifshesomuchastouchedhim.Shepressedbackandrubbed
herjust-out-of-sightassteasinglyagainsthim.

Sonofabitch.Jackgrowledlowinhisthroat.Hethoughtabouthittingtheemergencystopbutton,

pushing up her dress, and taking her right there in the elevator. And as much as he throbbed at the
wantonimageofherstandinginherheels,bracingherselfagainstthewallandmoaninghisnameas
he took her from behind, that was not the way things were going to happen for their first time
together.

He bent his head and kissed the base of her throat, not trusting himself to get any closer to her

mouth. He could feel her quick pulse underneath his lips. “Remember how I said I was in charge?
Thatincludestonight,Cameron.”

With a sly smile, she closed her eyes, tilting her neck to give him better access. “We’ll see about

that.”

Theywouldsee,Jackagreed.Theminutetheygotintothatroom.

The elevator sounded, indicating they had arrived at their floor. The doors sprang open and he

smackedCameronlightlyontheasstogethermoving.

Twenty-five

ASTHEYHURRIEDthroughthehallway,Cameron’sbodytingledwithanticipation.Jackhadbarely
touchedher,andshewasalreadycompletelyturnedon.

Heunlockedthedoorandletthemintotheirroom,tossingthekeyonthedeskinthecorner.Ashe

did his usual check, Cameron noticed that housekeeping had turned down the beds and had left the
lightsondim.Shesetherpurseonthenightstand.

Sheturnedtofacehimwhenhefinished,thinkingthatifhedidn’tkisshersoonshemightsuffocate

fromallthesexualtensionintheair.

Sheexpectedhimtopounceandthrowherontotheclosestbed.

Hedidn’t.

Jackfoldedhisarmsacrosshischest.“SoI’vebeenthinkingaboutyourWallsofJericho.Actually

notsomuchaboutthewall,butabouttheotherpart.WhereIshowyouhowamanundresses.”

Thetemperatureintheroomrosesofasttheglassonthetelevisionfogged.

Cameronexhaled.“Allright.I’mwatching.”

First,Jacktookoffthejacketofhissuit,exposinghisgunharness.Hequicklyremovedthataswell

andsetitonthedesk.Hishandsmovedtohistie.Heloosenedtheknotandpulleditoff,andCameron
hadtofighttheurgetostormoverandyanktherestofhisclothesoffhim.

Therewasaglintinhiseyesashemadenomovetoundressfurther.“Sorry,butthisisthetwenty-

firstcenturyversion.”

“Whathappensinthetwenty-firstcenturyversion?”

“Youlosethedress.”

Well,then.

“There’snotmuchunderneath,”shesaid.She’dhadlittlechoicewiththewaythedresswascut.

“I’mcountingonthat.”

Cameron reached for the zipper that ran along one side and inched it down. Without dropping

Jack’sgaze,shethenuntiedthehalteraroundherneck.Thedressfellinapoolatherfeet.Shefaced
himwearingnothingbutherblacksilkthongpanties.

Andofcourse,herhighheels.

Hernipplestightenedinthecoolairofthehotelroom.OrmaybeitwasjustJack’slook.

Lustcloudedhiseyesashetookineveryinchofher,andshehadneverfeltmoresexy—andbold—

thanshedidrightthen.

“Yourturn,”shesaid.

Heundidthebuttonsonhisshirtandpeeleditoff,revealingatightwhiteT-shirtthatshowedoffhis

firmchestmuscles.

Cameron was aching to get her hands on him. As if sensing this, he crossed the room. Her pulse

skyrocketedasheapproached,yethestilldidn’ttouchher.

“Nowyou,”hesaid.

She reached up and removed the antique-silver chandelier earrings Amy had picked for her,

droppingthemtothefloorbesidethedress.

“That’scheating,”Jacksaid.

“YouhavefourtimestheclothingonthatIdo.”

Withoneswifttug,heyankedhisT-shirtoverhishead.“Better?”

Hell...yes.

Camerontookhertime,savoringthesight.Thehardmuscles...thetight,six-packabs...thelight

scatteringofdarkhaironhischest....Shewantedtotasteeveryinchofhim.

Then,brieflycomingoutofherdaze,shenoticedsomethingelse.Ofcourse.

Shehadforgottenaboutthescars.

ThreeyearsagoshehadreadthefilesthatcontainedaverydetailedreportofthehellthatMartino’s

menhadputJackthroughduringthetwodaysthey’dheldhimcaptive.Butshehadn’tthoughtabout
thephysicalscarsthatkindofhellwould’veleftbehind.

Hereyestookinthecigaretteandelectricalburnsbyhisrightshoulder,movedtotheknifewounds

alonghissideandunderhisribs,thencametoastoponthequarter-sizedcircularscarhighonthe
leftsideofhischest—fromthebullethehadtakenwhenmakinghisescape.

CameronraisedhereyestoJack’s.Hewaswatchinghercarefully,toseeherreaction.

Shesteppedforwardandrestedherhandsonhischest.Shegentlykissedthescarsonhisshoulder.

Shedidthesametotheoneonhischest,andafterthatbentdowntorunherlipsoverthescarsunder
hisribsandalonghisside.Then,unabletohelpherself,sheranhertonguealongthesofttrailofhair
thatstartedathisnavelanddisappearedbehindhisbeltbuckle.

Jackpulledherupandstaredintohereyeswithaferocitythatwould’vescaredherunderanyother

circumstance.Heguidedherbackward,andwhenshefelttheedgeofthebedagainstthebackofher
kneessheneedednoencouragementtoliedownontopofit.

“YoustillhavealotmoreclothingonthanIdo,”Cameronsaid,risingontoherelbows.

“Icanfixthat.”

ShewatchedasJackundidhisbeltbuckle,thenthebuttononhispants.Hiseyesfeastedonthesight

ofherlyingonthebedbeforehimasheunzippedhisfly.Shecaughtabriefglimpseofgrayboxer-
briefsjustbeforeheslidthemoffwithhispants,socks,andshoes.Thenhestoodbeforeherinallhis
glory.

Shewouldnever,evercomparehimtoamoltenlavacakeagain.AfterseeingJack’snakedbody,all

otherdelicacieswerehenceforthruinedforher.

Ofcourse,hereyesweredrawntothatpartofhim,thepartthatwasbigandhardandraringtogo.

Allforher.

Jackclimbedontothebed,andshelayback.Hisdark,fierygazemadehershiverwithanticipation,

yethestilldidn’ttouchher.

Henoddedtohernear-nakedbody.“Youchoosewhat’snext.”

Didhewanthertobeg?Becauseshewasnearlyatthatpoint.“God,Jack...touchme...”

Hesmiled.

Hewasthedevil.

“Choose,”herepeated.

“I’llkeeptheshoes,”Cameronsaiddefiantly.

“Iwashopingyou’dsaythat.”Hishandsmovedtoherhipsandtuggedherpantiesdownherlegs

andoverhershoes.Thenhismouthstartedatherkneeandslowlymadetheoppositejourney,upher
thigh,alongherhip,herstomach,theVbetweenherbreasts,herneck,andsweptdownonhermouth.
Shemoaned,finallyabletokisshim.Hisarmslidunderherback,andhepulledherupsothatshe
wassittingonhislegs,straddlinghiships.

“You’re so beautiful, Cameron,” he said, running his finger along the side of her face. “Despite

everything that happened, over the last three years there were so many times I would lay in bed at
night,thinkingaboutyou.”

“Whatdidyouthinkabout?”sheasked,slidingherhandsuphischest.

“Doing this.” He pulled her breast into his mouth. His tongue glided over the tip in a wet, silken

caress,andhelickedandsuckeduntilshethoughtshe’dgocrazy.Thenhemovedtotheotherone,her
nipplealreadyhardandtight,beggingforhistouch.Gentlycuppingherbreast,hedrewtherosypeak
intohismouth.

She started to rock on his lap, desperate for more. While his mouth continued its assault on her

breasts,heslidhishandsaroundherhips.Onehandcuppedherbottomwhiletheotherslidbetween
their bodies. His fingers stroked their way to the core of her, opening the soft, wet folds. When he
found the center, he teased her with his thumb, massaging back and forth until she was shaking. He
slid a finger into her, and then another, and she gasped as his fingers slowly drew in and out, and
again,findingarhythmthatnearlysentherover.Shecuppedhisfaceandpulledhimup,kissinghim
hotly.

Ashistonguetangledwithhers,sheslidherhanddownhischest,pasthisstomachandlower,where

herfingersfoundhimhardandthrobbing.Shewrappedherhandaroundthethickshaft,revelingin
thesuddencatchinhisbreath.

Shebeganstrokinghim.“Didyouthinkaboutthiswhenyouusedtolayawakeatnight?”Sheran

herthumbovertheengorgedheadinsmoothcircles.

Heclosedhiseyesandgroaned.“Fuck,yes...”

Sheslidherhanddowntothebaseandcuppedhimasshewhisperedinhisear.“Didyouthinkabout

meusingmymouth,too?”

“Christ,” Jack muttered, and before Cameron knew it she was on her back with him kneeling

betweenherlegs.Heyankedoffhershoesbeforeshecouldprotest.

“Ashotasthosepointyheelsare,I’vegotenoughscarsonmybody,”hetoldher,hisbreathquick.

“I’vegotcondomsinmynightstand,”Cameronsaid,soreadyshewaspracticallypanting.

“SodoI.Many.”

“Let’sgetoneofthem.Now.”

Jack reached over and yanked the drawer open, nearly pulling it off the track. He quickly found

whathewaslookingfor,andthesoundofawrapperbeingrippedopenwasmusictoCameron’sears.

“Letmeputitonyou,”shesaidurgently.

“Ifyoudo,thismightallbeoverbeforewegetstarted.”

Thesightofhimrollingonthecondomgotherevenmoreworkedupandshebeganarchingher

hips,needinghim.“Jack...”

He moved over her. He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head. “I’m right here,” he

soothedinherear.Shefelthimbetweenherlegs,hotandhardandready.Heinchedintoherslowly,
fillingher.

“Spreadyourlegs,baby—letmein,”heurged.Shedid,andhemoveddeeperintoher,thendeeper

still,andbeganaslow,tortuousrhythm.Heheldoneofherhipswithhisfreehand,glidinginandout
ashepinnedhertothebed.Shetookhisachinglysmooththrustsagainandagain,andhebroughther
righttotheedge,thenbackedaway,holdinghersuspendedthereforwhatseemedlikeaneternity.She
moanedhisname,frantictotouchhim,butheheldherwristsagainstthebed.Heslowedandwithdrew
fromhernearlyalltheway,teasingherwithshallowthrusts.

“Please,Jack...”shefinallybegged.

Heletgoofherhands,andwhenshelookedupshesawthathewasasclosetolosingitasshe.

“Wrapyourlegsaroundmywaist,”herasped.

Shedid,andheplungedallthewayintoher.

“OhGod,Cameron,youfeelsogood,”hegroaned.

Sheslidherhandsuphisbackandtightenedherlegsaroundhiships,urginghimdeeper,needing

himtofillherthewayonlyhecould.Herbreastscrushedagainsthischestashepoundedintoher,
harderandfaster,thenheshiftedhiships,hittingthespotthatwoulddriveherover.Heslidhishands
underneathherbottom,holdingheragainsthisthrusts.

Hestrokedherpossessively.“Ilovebeinginsideyou,baby...ForthreeyearsI’vewantedtomake

youmine.NowIwanttofeelyoucomearoundme.”

That was all it took. Cameron gripped his shoulders and cried out as she reached her peak and

exploded,holdingontohimaswaveafterwaveofpleasurecrashedoverher.Jackpumpedlongand
hardasthethroesofherorgasmgrippedhimtightly,andhefollowedherover.Sheopenedhereyes
justintimetoseethemomentwhenhesurrenderedallcontrol,hernameastrainedwhisperonhis
lipsasheshudderedandmoanedandthrustdeeponelasttimebeforecrashingdownonher.

They both lay there, trying to catch their breath. With his head buried in the pillow next to her,

mufflinghisvoice,Jackspokefirst.

“Wow.”

Cameronturnedherhead,pressinghercheekagainsthis.

“Mythoughtsexactly.”

FOR ONCE, JACK was glad he had a hard time sleeping for more than a few hours at a time. He
wokeup,sawthatitwasstilldark,andcheckedtheclockonthenightstand.Noteven4:00A.M.

Cameronlayonherside,curledagainsthim.Bothofthemwerenaked.Aftertheirfirstround,she’d

slippedonherunderwearandhisshirt,alookhe’dfoundextremelysexy,especiallywhenpairedwith
hertousled hair. Sosexy, in fact,that—well, he’d warned herwhat would happenif she wore those
kindsofoutfitsaroundhim...

Heworriedthathe’dbeenrougherthesecondtimearound,althoughheheldhermostlyresponsible

forthat,too.Asifwearinghisshirtandblacksilkpantieshadn’tbeenbadenough,afterhe’dstripped
themoffhershe’dpushedhimontohisbackandusedhermouthonhiminwhathadtohavebeenthe
singlegreatesttorturehe’deverbeensubjectedto.Shehadlicked,stroked,andteaseduntilhe’dbeen
socompletelyoutofhismindthathe’dflippedheroverontoherkneesandtakenherthatway,not
stoppinguntilshemoanedandcriedhisnameandcollapsedontothepillows.

Hecouldn’tgetenoughofher.

Itscaredhimalittle,becausehe’dneverbeforefeltthiswayaboutanyone.Nearlythirty-fiveyears

old,hewasn’texactlyinnocent—he’dsleptwithhisfairshareofwomen,somehe’devenmetwhile
working undercover. But all of his relationships had been casual—and he’d made that abundantly
cleargoingintothem.Inthepast,he’dalwaysusedhisjobasanexcusetoavoidgettingseriouswith
anyone.Nowherealizedthatwiththerightperson,hewouldn’twantanexcuse.

Jackleanedin,whisperinghernamesoftly.Heknewhewasagreedy,selfishbastardtowakeher

up,buthelovedthereassuranceoftheirintimacy,whatitsaidabouttheirrelationshipwithouteither
ofthemactuallyhavingtosayit.Nottomention,ithadbeenacoupleofhoursandshewaslyingnext
tohimnaked.Hecouldeithersitthereinthedarkwithahard-on,orhecoulddosomethingaboutit.

Hesaidhernameagain,andshestirred.Herolledthembothoverandkissedherneckastheylayon

theirsides.Hismouthwandereddowntheslopeofherbreasts,andheworkedhistonguearoundone
ofhernipples.

Cameronwokeupwithasmile.“Hmm...”Sheranherhandsoverhim,sighingasshecaressedhis

chestandstomach.Herhandsdippedlowerandfoundhisachinglyharderection.

Hereyesopenedmischievously.“We’retherealready?”

“Itjustseemstokeepgettingthiswayaroundyou.”

Sheslidonekneeoverhiship.“Ilikeitthisway.”

Notneedinganyfurtherencouragement,Jackreachedbackandgotacondomfromthenightstand.

Afterherollediton,hegraspedherhipsandslowlysankintothewarm,wetdepthsofher.Hecupped
herasswithonehandandrolledhishipsbackandforthinasmooth,unhurriedrhythm.

Whenheheardhergasp,hepaused.“Isittoomuch?”

Sheclosedhereyesandmovedherhipsagainsthim,urginghimdeeper.“It’sperfect.Feelfreeto

wakemeeverynightlikethis.”

Jackbenthisheadandkissedher.

Heshouldbesolucky.

Twenty-six

ATBRUNCHTHEfollowingmorning,CollintookaseatinthechairnexttoCameron.Jackhadleft
thetableamomentagotoanswerhiscellphone.

“So,”Collinsaid,gettingcomfortable.

Cameronsetdownherforkfulofblueberrypancakes,readytobegin.“So.”

Collinstartedthingsoffwithsomenot-so-subtleinnuendo.“Youlooktiredthismorning,”hesaid

withapointedlookinthedirectionofJack,whostoodbythefloor-to-ceilingwindowswhiletalking
onhisphone.

“Youlookprettybeatyourself,”Cameronreplied,noddingtowardRichard,whohadmadehisway

overtoAmyandAaron’stabletoofferhiscongratulations.

“Wewereupallnight,talkingthingsthrough.That’sit,”Collinsaid.

“Oh.Well,Ican’tsaythesamething.”

“Alrightythen.Abouttime.Let’shearit.”

Cameronopenedhermouthtoanswer—ofcourseshe’dtellCollinabouthernightwithJack,she

toldCollineverything—then...

Nothing.Shehesitatedforamomentlongerbeforeshuttinghermouthwithmerelyasmile.

“Thatgood,huh?”Collinsaidwithalaugh.

Cameronblushedandwavedthisoff.“TellmehowthingswentwithRichard.Didyouguyswork

thingsout?”

“There’ssomefine-tuningthatstillneedstobedone,butIthinkwe’regoingtotrymovingbackin

together.”

Cameron was happy for him. If working things out with Richard was what Collin wanted, that’s

whatshewanted,too.“Sodidyoumakehimdosomemajorgroveling?”

“Ididn’thaveto.Hesaidplentyonhisown—allIhadtodowaslisten.”

Fromtheirtable,sheandCollinwatchedasRichardshookAaron’shandandhuggedAmy.Afew

feet away, by the windows, Jack finished his call and made another, keeping one protective eye on
Cameronatalltimes.Hewinkedather,andshesmiled.

“Youaresosmitten,”Collinsaid.

Twothingshappenedthen,inresponsetoCollin’scomment.First,Cameronrealizedjusthowright

hewas.Second,herthoughtsturnedstrangelyserious.Or,inlightofcurrentevents,perhapsnotso
strangely.

Aslongasshewasindangerwiththisinvestigation,Jackwas,too.Andeveryoneelseclosetoher.

Collin had already been hurt—what if something had happened at the wedding, to him again, or to
Amy? She trusted Jack—and the FBI in general—to keep them all safe, but still. As long as Mandy
Robards’skillerwasoutthere,shewouldalwayshaveasenseofdreadhangingoverher.

ItwastheFBI’sinvestigation,andshewoulddowhatevertheytoldherto.Butshe’dbeenworking

anideainthebackofhermind,somethingthatcouldpossiblyspeedthingsalong.Foralltheirsakes.

Jackfinishedhiscallandcamebacktotheirtable.

“Howarethepancakes?”heaskedashetookhisseat.

“Delicious.Howdidyourcallgo?”

“Thesecuritysystematyourhouseissetupandreadytogo.Whichmakesmefeelalotbetterabout

beingthere.”Jackgrabbedhisforkandstoleabiteofpancakefromherplate.“You’reright.These
aregood.”

His comments about the security system got Cameron thinking. “You know, having seen you in

action this weekend, I’m surprised you felt comfortable being down the hallway from me that first

night.Whilewe’vebeenhere,youhaven’tletmeoutofyoursightformorethanahalfhour.”She
caughtthelookonJack’sface.“What?”

“Intheinterestoffulldisclosure...Ididn’tletyououtofmysightthatnight.Isleptonyourfloor.

Actually,morelikeagainstyourwall.”Hemistookhersilence.“Ididn’tsayanythingbecauseIwas
tryingnottoscareyou.”

Sheshookherhead.“No,Igetit.Ijust...didn’trealizeyouhaddonethatforme.”

JackloweredhisvoicesoCollincouldn’thear.“Don’tlooksoserious.Trustme—youmorethan

madeupforitlastnight.”

Cameron put on a smile, not wanting to ruin the mood. “Sorry. I’ll just be glad when this

investigationisover.”

“Itwillbesoon.Ipromise,”Jacksaid.

Shenoddedinagreement.

Particularlyifshehadanythingtosayaboutit.

THEY GOT ON the road shortly after the brunch. Cameron wasn’t eager to tempt fate—the entire
weekendhadbeenwonderful,andshewantedtokeepitthatway.

Shehadalotoftimetothinkduringthedrivehome.Shehadsomethoughtsonapossiblenextstep

intheRobardsinvestigation,butshedidn’twanttobringitupuntiltheywerebackatherhouse.After
Jackconfirmedthatthesecuritysystemwasworking,andaftertheyhadsettledinandunpackedfrom
the wedding, she was hoping the two of them could sit down and talk through her idea. She had a
feelingJackwasn’tgoingtobeparticularlyreceptive,atleastnotatfirst.

Withtheshorterfalldays,itwasjustbeginningtoturndarkoutsidewhenJackpulledthecarinto

hergarage.Hetoldhertowaitinthecarwhilehecheckedtomakesurethebackyardwassafe.Then
hecameback,grabbedtheirsuitcases,depositedthematthebackdoor,andescortedhertothehouse.

Comingoutofhergarage,CameronnoticedthenewFrenchdoorsonherupstairsbalcony.“They

lookjustliketheoldones,”sheobserved.

“Ihadoursecurityteamputtheminovertheweekend.Weneededthemwiththenewalarmsystem.”

Jackunlockedthebackdoor,leftherstandingoutsideforafewmoments,thengesturedforherto

enter. To her, everything felt quiet and secure, but she followed him from room to room as he
checkedthehouse,waitingforhimtoconfirmthis.

“We’regood,”hefinallysaidafterfinishingupwiththethirdandlastfloor.

Cameronbreathedeasierafterthat,andevenmoresowhenJackbroughtherovertothesecurity

keypadnexttothedoorthatledtotherooftopdeck.

Hepushedafewbuttonsonthekeypad,thenshowedherhowitworked.“We’vegotalarmsonall

the doors and windows, and glass-break sensors on every floor. You can arm the entire house by
pushingthisbuttonrighthere.Youshouldseethisredlightcomeon,andthenyouknowyou’regood
togo.Youshouldalwayshavethesystemarmed.I’veprogrammedinashortdelay—you’llonlyhave
ten seconds after you enter the house to disarm the system before the alarm goes off. The security

teamputpanelsnexttoallthedoors,sothatshouldgiveyouenoughtime.Todisarmthealarm,you
justenterthesecuritycode.”

“What’sthecode?”sheasked.

“Youpick—anyfour-charactercombinationthat’seasytoremember.Notyourbirthdayoranything

obviouslikethat.”

Hewatchedassheenteredthecode.“What’sfive-two-two-five?”

“Itspells‘Jack’onthekeypad.Shouldbeeasyenoughtoremember.”

Theyheadedbackdownstairstothemainfloor.Jackhadlefthersuitcaseinthefoyer,andCameron

grabbedittobringituptoherbedroomtounpack.

Jack’sarmscamearoundherandturnedhertofacehim.“Doyouwanttotalkaboutwhateverhas

beenbotheringyouallafternoon?”Hiseyessearchedherscarefully.“Youwerequietduringthecar
ride.”

Ofcoursehewouldpickuponthat.“ThereissomethingIwanttotalktoyouabout,”sheadmitted.

“ButIthoughtmaybewecouldgetsettledinfirst.”Shesawthestubbornsettohisjaw.“I’mguessing
you’renotsokeenonthatplan.”

Hetookherbythehandandledherthroughthekitchenandintothegreatroom.“Goodguess.”He

gesturedforhertotakeaseatonthecouch.

“Howcomeeverytimewehaveoneoftheseconversations,IfeellikeIshouldbeinaroomwitha

two-waymirrorandabrightlightshininginmyface?”

“ThenI’llspareyoutheusualinterrogationtacticsandgetrightdowntoit,”Jacksaid.“Isitus?”

“Iswhatus?”

“Whatever ’sbotheringyou—isitaboutus?”

Cameronlookedathimstrangely.“Ofcoursenot—thiswasprobablythemostincredibleweekend

ofmylife.WhywouldIsuddenlyhaveaproblemwithus?”

ShesawthetensiondrainoutofJack’sface.Hetookaseatonthecouchnexttoher.“Oh.Good.”He

grinnedandthrewhisarmalongthebackofthecouch,gettingcomfortable.“Me,too,youknow.The
mostincredibleweekendpart.”

“Butyou’restillnotgoingtolikewhatIhavetosay.”

Gloweringensued.

“DoIgetthebrightlightnow?”Cameronaskedteasingly.

“IthinkImightskipthelightandgostraighttothatpapercliptechniquewediscussedearlierifyou

don’tstarttalking.”

“Justpromisemethatyou’llconsidereverythingIhavetosaybeforeyouanswer.”

Jacklookedheroverwithhisdark,predatoryeyes.“Allright,”hefinallyagreed.

Cameron tucked her knees underneath her. “I’m obviously very worried about the Robards

investigation.Thisisastrainonme,onyou,anditputseveryoneIknowatrisk.Iknowyourteamis

doingalltheycan,butnobody’scomeupwithanythingsofar.”

ShecouldtellfromthewayJack’sjawtwitchedthathedidn’tlikebeingremindedofthis.

“I hate that the ball is all in this asshole’s court, and that I pretty much just have to sit here and

wonderifhe’sgoingtocomeaftermeagain.”

CameroncouldtellfromJack’sexpressionthathelikedbeingremindedofthatevenless.

“Butmaybethere’sawaywecancontrolthesituation,”shesaid.

“Howdoyouproposewedothat?”Jackasked.

“That’swhatIwasthinkingaboutinthecar.AndImight’vecomeupwithsomething.Wefigured

outthatthere’saleak—perhapswecanusethattoouradvantage.Weknowthatthekillerknewhowto
avoidthehotelcameras.Butwhatifwespreadthewordthatyouguyshaveidentifiedaguestwhowas
using a camcorder in the Peninsula that evening—maybe for a vacation or a bachelor party,
somethinglikethat.YouletitbeknownthatthisguestcaughtontapeamanwearingagrayhoodedT-
shirt,blazer,andjeans,exitingthehotelshortlyafterMandy’smurder.YousaythattheFBIcrimelab
is trying to enhance the tape to come up with an image of the guy’s face, and that you’re hopeful
you’llbeabletoidentifyhimsoon.Hopefullywordwillspreadtotherightperson.”

Jackgotupfromthecouch.Oddthatshe’deverfoundhimhardtoread—becauserightthenshehad

absolutelynoproblemseeinghowmuchhedislikedthisidea.

“You know as well as I do that a man exiting the hotel wearing a gray hooded T-shirt around the

timeofthemurdermeansnothingbyitself,”Jacksaid.“Youaretheonewhocantiethatpersontothe
murder. The only one. And the killer knows that. So what you’re really suggesting is that we give
MandyRobards’smurdererextraincentivetogetyououtofthepicture.”

“I’msuggestingwemotivatethemurderertomakeamovethatwewillbepreparedfor.”

“Cutthecrap—youwantmetouseyouasbait.Youwantmetoprovokethisguyintoattackingyou

again.”

“Ithinkit’sanoptionweneedtothinkabout,yes.”

“No.”

“Yousaidyouwouldconsidereverythingbeforeyouanswered.”

“It’s been considered.” Jack stared her right in the eyes. “And I will spend the next twenty years

sleepingonyourfloorbeforeIeverwillinglyputyouindanger.”

Hearing that, Cameron got up from the couch and walked over. “After this weekend, I probably

wouldn’tmakeyousleeponthefloor,youknow.”

But Jack wasn’t in the mood for teasing. He moved away from her, over by the window. “I’m

seriousaboutthis,Cameron.”

“Withyoucoveringme,andateamofFBIagentswhowe’dsetupinadvance,don’tyouthinkI’d

be safe? If you came to me as a prosecutor, this is exactly the type of operation I’d approve.
Particularlywithsuchahigh-profilecrime.”

“IfIcametoyouasaprosecutor,youwouldaskmeabouttherisks.AndIwouldtellyouthatno

one,includingme,caneverguaranteesafetyinanoperationlikethis.Icantakethoseriskswithother

people.Butnotwithyou.”

Hiswordshungintheairbetweenthem.Cameronfinallyspokefirst.

“Iagreedthatyou’reincharge.Soifyoudon’tthinkthisisagoodidea,I’lldropit.Fornow,”she

added.Sheknewhewantedtobeallmoodyandbroodyrightthen,buttoobad—shewasn’tgoingto
lethim.“Ican’tpromiseIwon’tbringthisupagaininthefuture,though.Icanbekindoffussyabout
thesethingswhenIwanttobe.”

ShecaughttheglimmerofamusementinJack’seyes.

“WhendidyoueveractuallyagreethatIwasincharge?”heasked.“IthinkImissedthat.”

“Itwasmoreofanimpliedconsent.Ididn’trejecttheconceptthetwotimesyoubroughtitup.”

Heshookhishead.“Youaresuchalawyer.”Helookedoutthewindowandsighed.“Idothinkit’sa

good idea, Cameron. And I want this to be over just as much as you do.” He turned back to the
window, gazing out as he thought things through. He ran his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know,
maybeifwecouldfindalook-alike...somefemaleagentwholookslikeyou,whoIcouldstationin
thishouseinyourplace...”

He turned around. “Maybe if—” He stopped suddenly, presumably seeing the look on her face.

“What?What’swrong?”

Itwasthethinghe’ddonerightthen.Whenhe’drunhishandoverhismouth.

ItstruckCameron—thepieceshe’dbeenmissingallthistimeaboutthenightofMandyRobards’s

murder.There’dbeensomethinginthatmomentwhenshe’dseenthekillerthroughthepeepholeas
he’dleftMandy’sroom,somethingshe’dneverbeenabletoputherfingeron.

Itwasthewayhisblazerhadpulledtightacrosshisshouldersashe’dreachedforwardtopushopen

thestairwelldoor.There’dbeenafaintimprintunderneathhisblazer,thesamekindshe’djustseen
underneathJack’sblazerwhenhehadreacheduptorubhismouth.

CameronstaredatJackinsurprise.

“Idon’tknowifthismeansanything...butI’mprettysuretheguywhokilledMandyRobardswas

wearingagunthenighthestrangledher.”

Twenty-seven

ITTOOKJACKamomenttoprocesswhatCameronhadjustsaid.

“Agun?Whatmakesyouthinkthat?”

Camerongesturedtohisshoulders.“Therewasabulgeunderhisblazer—Ithinkhewaswearinga

shoulderharness.WorkingwithFBIagents,I’veprobablyseenithundredsoftimesbeforebutnever
consciouslypaidanyattentiontoit.Butwhenyoumovedyourarmsandrubbedyourfacelikethat,it
looked kind of bulky right under your shoulders there . . .” She trailed off, as if unsure how to
describeit.

“Youcouldseemygunprinting.”

Shenodded.“Yes.”

“Andyou’resureyousawthesamethingwiththeguywholeftMandyRobards’sroom?”

“Yes.IalwaysfeltliketherewassomethingIwasmissing,Ijustcouldn’tfigureitout,”Cameron

said.“Doesthatmeananything,thathewaswearingagun?”

Jack’smindworkedthroughthisnewdevelopment.Theyknewsolittleaboutthekiller,everything

meantsomething.Andthispieceofinformationcouldmeanalot.“Icertainlyfinditinterestingthat
hesuffocatedMandyRobardswhenhehadagunonhim.”

“Gunsmakenoise.”

“Yes,theydo.Althoughaprofessionalcould’vebroughtasilencertotakecareofthat.I’mthinking

morethanevernowthatthismurderwasn’tsomethingthatwasplanned.”

“A jealous boyfriend, perhaps? Maybe he confronted Mandy about Senator Hodges and it

escalated,”Cameronsuggested.

Jack shook his head. “We already looked into that angle. The shoulder harness is an interesting

development.Youmightnothaverecognizedit,butsomeonewithatrainedeyewould’vespottedthe
gunrightaway.Thatwouldbeasloppy,riskymove,withthecity’srestrictionsonhandguns,”hesaid,
referringtothefactthatChicagocitizenswerenotpermittedtoownorcarryhandguns.“Makesme
thinkthisguyislicensedinthiscitytocarryaconcealedweapon.”

“Likeacop,youmean?Oranagent?”

“Maybe...”Jackmusedoverthisformoment.Thensomethingoccurredtohim.Hestrodeoverto

thefoyerandunzippedtheduffelbaghe’dleftthereearlier.Hepulledoutthecasefileshe’dbrought
to the wedding—he’d made copies of everything and left the originals with Wilkins. He opened the
filewiththephotographsofthepeoplethey’dinterviewedinconnectionwithMandy’smurder.

Helocatedthephotographhewassearchingforandtookacloserlook.

Interesting.

HehandedthephotographovertoCameron.Shepointed.“Thisisoneofthephotosyoushowedme

thenightofthebacheloretteparty.”

“HisnameisGrantLombard,”Jacksaid.“HedoesprivatesecurityforSenatorHodges.Hecarries

a gun—I noticed it the night we interviewed him. He had the proper permits, and since Mandy had
beensuffocatedthegundidn’tjumpouttousasaredflag.Irememberhimfromtheinterview—sort
ofacool,professionaltype.Ialsorecallhimbeingaboutfivefeetelevenandonehundredseventy
pounds,sohematchesthephysicaldescriptionoftheguywe’relookingfor.IthoughtIremembered
himhavingbrowneyes,too,althoughIwantedtoconfirmthatwiththepicture.”

“Theguywhoattackedmehadbrowneyes,”Cameronsaid.

“Yes,hedid.”

“ByanychancedoesGrantLombardhaveanalibiforthenightofMandyRobards’smurder?”

“Hesayshewasathomesleeping.Alone,”Jacksaid.

“Giventhetimeofmurder,there’sprobablynottoomuchwecanmakeofthat,”Cameronsaid.

“True.ButperhapsIneedtoaskhimifhehasanalibiforthetimeofyourattack.”

Camerontookasecondlookatthepicture.“Hecan’texactlyusethe‘athomesleeping’excusefor

fourthirtyintheafternoon.There’scertainlyenoughheretomakeitworthcheckinginto.”

JackpulledhiscellphoneoutofhispocketanddialedWilkins.Hispartnerdidn’tanswer,soheleft

amessageonhisvoicemail.“Wilkins—it’sJack.ImighthavesomethingintheRobardscase—alead
worthlookinginto,atleast.Callmewhenyougetthismessage.I’llfillyouinthen.”

Jackhungup,gladtofinallyhaveanactualleadtopursueaftertwoweeksofhuntingandpecking

in the dark. “We’re not going to talk to anyone about this except Wilkins and Davis,” he told
Cameron.“Notyet,anyway.Idon’twanttotakeanychancesthatthewrongpersoncouldfindoutthat
youknowmorethanwe’doriginallythought.”

Althoughhedidn’tsayitoutloud,JackknewthatCameron,asaprosecutor,understoodthatthegun

couldbeakeypieceofevidence.IfLombarddidturnouttobetheguytheywerelookingfor,shehad
justinadvertentlystumbleduponthelinkthatcouldultimatelyleadtohisarrest.

TheidealeftJackfeelingveryskittish.

“I’msorryIdidn’trememberthisrightaway,”Cameronsaid.“Thatnightatthehotel,youwarned

menottobesloppy—Ishould’vethoughtofthisearlier.”Shelookedannoyedwithherself.“Afterall
thetimesI’verakedawitnessoverthecoalsforclaimingtoremembersomethingafterthefact.Now
I’vedoneexactlythesamething.”

Jackreachedforher.“Ihatetobreakthistoyou,Cameron,butyou’reonlyhuman.”

“Shh...I’vebeentryingtokeepthatunderwrapsforyears.”

Hesmiledandkissedherforehead.“Yoursecretissafewithme.”

She leaned into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “So where does all this leave us for

tonight?”

Jackwrappedhisarmsaroundher.“Unfortunately,itmeansIhavesomeworktodo.Therearea

fewthingsIwanttocheckinto.”

Cameron pulled back, running her hands over his chest. “What kinds of things? And more

important,howlongwilltheytake?”sheaskedwithacoysmile.

Twodays,Jackthought.Fortwodayshe’dbeentorturedbyMartino’sinterrogatorsandhadnever

brokenonce—notasingleword.Butthiswomanhadhimwrappedaroundherfingerinonesecond
flatwithjustasmile.

Heknewheshouldprobablyrunasfastashecouldintheoppositedirection.

Instead,hekissedher.

Shekissedhimbackplayfullyatfirst,untilhemovedheragainstthecounter.Hewoundhistongue

aroundhersandslidhishandstoherwaist.

“Ineedtogettowork,”Jacksaidashekissedthespotonherneckthatheknewdrovehercrazy.

“Youdo,”sheagreed,asherhandswandereddownhisstomach.“AndIneedtounpack.”

“I’ll walk you to the stairs,” Jack said. They kissed the entire way as he backed her through the

kitchen and to the staircase. By the time they got there, his hands had somehow made their way
underneathhershirt.

“Soyou’llcomeupstairswhenyou’redoneworking,then?”Cameronasked.

“Yes.Shouldn’tbetoolong.”Therewasalotofkissingafterthat,andsuddenlytheywereonthe

stairsandhewasbetweenherlegs.Hepushedhershirtupandscooteddown,trailinghislipsacross
herstomach.

Shesuckedinherbreath.“Okay.I’mgoing.”

“Yes.Go.”Jackpulledhimselfupandkissedher—justonelasttime.ThenhefeltCameron’shands

unzippingtheflyofhisjeans.Shereachedintohisboxers,andhegroanedasshewrappedherhand
aroundhim.

Hepeereddownandsawthesparkleinhereyes.

Workwouldjusthavetowaitafewdamnminutes.

“Doyouhaveanycondomsleftinyoursuitcase?”heaskedraggedly,atleasthavingthepresenceof

mindtothinkofthatwhilesheworkedhimover.Thewomanhadthemostincrediblehands.

“Topouterpocket,”Cameronsaid.

Jack stepped away, swore as he rummaged around, finally realized he was in the wrong pocket,

grabbedacondom,andcameback.

Holyfuck.

Thelittleminxhadtakentheinitiativeofslippingoffherjeans.

Butshe’dleftthenaughty-bootson.

“YouknowIfeelnakedwithoutmyheels,”Cameronsaid.

Jacktossed the condomonto the stairs.He shrugged off hisblazer, then tookoff his gun harness

andsetitonthestairsnexttothecondom.

“Slideuptwosteps,”heorderedher.

Shedid.Hespreadherlegsandkneltbetweenthemonalowerstep.Hewatchedhereyeswidenas

he slid one of her legs over his shoulder, then the other. He felt her tremble as he bent down and
lickedthetoplacyedgeofherpanties.

“Jack...”shemurmured,threadingherfingersthroughhishair.

Hehookedhisfingeraroundthewaistbandofherpantiesandpulledthemdownafewinches.He

loweredhismouth.

Cameronmoaned.“Ohgod,youarethedevil...”

Enoughsaid.

Twenty-eight

CAMERON STOOD IN her closet, zipping her bridesmaid’s dress into a garment bag, when she
noticedafigurehoveringinthedoorway.

“Wereyoujustsinging‘BetteDavisEyes’?”Jackaskedwithalazygrin.

Cameronblushed,nothavingrealizedthat’swhatshe’dbeendoing.Nice—amind-blowingdouble

orgasmandJackliterallyhadhersinging.

“Imighthavebeenhummingalittle,”shesaidnonchalantly.

Hecockedhishead.“IthoughtthatwasyoursongwithCollin.”

Shelaughedatthis.“Idon’thavea‘song’withCollin.It’sjustasongIlike.”

Jackappearedsomewhatappeasedbythis.“YourInternetconnectionistooslow.”

ThankGod—hewascrankyaboutsomething.ThisJackshecouldhandle.TheJackwhocuppedher

faceashewhisperedthemostromanticandsexythingsanyonehadeversaidtoherashemadelove
toheronherownstaircase,ontheotherhand,wasaforceofadifferentnature.

“Youmentionedthattheotherday,”shesaid.“I’veneverhadaproblemwithmyconnectionbefore.

Areyoutryingtorunsomesuper-fastsecretagentprogram?”

“Yes.Butit’sslowevenforthat.”

Histeasingeyesmadeherstomachdoalittleflip.Sothisiswhatit’sliketofallinlov—holdon—

notgoingtogothereyet,Camerontoldherself.She’dbeendatingJackforallof—what—twodays?

“Ihopeyou’renotlookingtomeforanswersaboutthisInternetthing,”shetoldhim.“Ifthere’sa

problem,Iturnthecomputeroffandthenonagain.Ifthatdoesn’tfixit,IcallCollin.”

Jackfoldedhisarmsacrosshischest.“IthinkweneedtotalkaboutthisCollindependency.Because

there’sanewsheriffintown.”

“Hmm.That’salittlealphaformytastes,”Cameronsaidwithadisapprovingair.

Shetriednottolooktotallyturnedon.

“I’mgoingtotakealookupstairsatyourcomputer,”Jacksaid.“Maybeoneofyourneighborsis

tappingintoyourwirelesssignal.It’seasytodointhecity,withhousesascloseastheyare.What’s
yourpassword?”

“Youwon’tneedone.IleavethecomputerrunningandjustletitgointosleepmodewheneverI’m

notusingit.”

Jackthrewheralookthatsaidthiswasabigno-no.“IthinkInowknowwhyyou’rehavingInternet

problems.”

“Whatisityou’retryingtodofromyourlaptop,anyway?”Cameronasked.

“Just a few things I want to have ready when Wilkins calls. I can log onto the Bureau’s network

remotely—IwanttotakeanotherlookatLombard’scellphonerecordsthatwepulledacoupleweeks
ago.PlusI’vebeenthinkingaboutsettingupatraceonhisphone,althoughI’llneedoneofthetech
guystohelpmewiththat.ThenwecantrackeverywhereLombard’sbeen—atleastwithhisphone—

overthelastfewdays.”

Cameronputthebridesmaid’sdressbackintoitsspotontherackbehindthedoor.Sheglancedover

hershoulder.“Withoutawarrant,thatsoundshighlyillegal.”

“Legal,illegal,therearesomanygrayareas.”

“Ididn’thearthat,Jack.”

“Nothingtohear,counselor.Ineversaidaword.”

WHEN HE REACHED the third floor, Jack turned left and headed into the office. Cameron’s desk
faced the window, overlooking her front yard and the street below. Jack went over to the desk and
tookaseat.Whenhemovedthemouse,thecomputersprangtolife.

Possibly, he just needed to reboot the system since she’d left it running for who knew how long.

Still,hewantedtobesure.Hecheckedtoseehowmanycomputerswerelinkedtoherrouter—ashe’d
said to her, maybe someone was pilfering her wireless connection and that was slowing everything
down.

Ittookasecondforthescreentoopen.Whathesawthrewhimforaloop.

Thatcan’tberight.

TherewerefifteendevicesusingCameron’sInternetconnection.Jackwasawareoftwo—hislaptop

andCameron’sdesktopcomputer.

Sowhatthehellweretheotherthirteen?Itwaspossiblethataneighborcouldbestealinghersignal,

maybeevenacouple,butthirteenneighborsusingherInternetwasextremelyunlikely.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t thirteen computers, but something else. That was what Jack checked

next.Hepulledupthedatastreamforthefirstdevice.

Strange.

Itwastransmittinganaudiosignal.

ButJackheardnothing.HeturnedupthevolumeonCameron’scomputer.Stillnothing.Hemoved

ontothenextdevice—thisonewasalsotransmittinganaudiosignal.

Again,nothing.

Whatthehell?

He quickly checked the other signals—all audio—and finally found something being transmitted

throughtheeighthone.

Itwasthesoundofawomansingingsoftly.Asmokyvoiceherecognizedwell.

Alltheboysthinkshe’saspy,she’sgotBetteDaviseyes.

Cameron.Inherbedroom.

Jack could hear the sound of a drawer shutting, then a zipper, as she continued unpacking her

suitcase.

Sonofabitch.

Hedeliberatelybegandrumminghisfingersonthedesk—makingenoughnoiseforatest,butnot

too much—as he hurriedly checked the remaining devices. He knew what he would eventually find.
When he got to the last audio signal, the sound of his fingers rapping against the wood echoed
throughCameron’scomputer,clearasday.

Jackwould’veswornoutloudifhecouldhave.

Thegoddamnhousewasbugged.

Hismindraced,dozensofthoughtsallatonce.Themaskedman...Thursdayafternoon...they

had assumed he’d been waiting to attack Cameron when she came home from work. Jack realized
now that Mandy’s killer hadn’t been in the house at four thirty in the afternoon to avoid police
surveillance;he’dbeentherebecausehewasaftersomethingelseentirely.Hewantedtolisten.

HewantedtoknowwhatCameronknew.

Nowadays, microphones used for eavesdropping were smaller than ever—less than the size of a

button. And all one needed was a computer, a wireless network, and the IP addresses of the
monitoring devices. Not much harder than setting up a nanny cam, particularly for someone who
knewwhathewasdoing.

JackpulledouthisBlackBerry—luckily,nowthattheyknewwhattheguywasupto,theycouldturn

thingsaround.AssumingMandy’skillerwasactivelymonitoringthebugs,theycouldback-tracethe
link to the IP address of the computer he was using to listen to them. And once they had that
information,theycouldpinpointthelocationofthatcomputer—andthekiller.

JackstartedtotypeatextmessagetoWilkins—obviously,hecouldn’tcallhimoranyoneelsefrom

thehousewithitbeingbugged.Thenhestopped,realizingitwouldbefastertosimplytakeCameron
outtohiscarandmakethecallfromthere.He’dhavetoslipheranoteexplainingthesituation,of
course,becausetheycouldn’tsayanythingthatwouldtipthekilleroff—hecouldbelisteningtothem
rightthen.

Jack’sstomachtwistedintoaknot.

Thekillercouldbelistening.

Assuminghe’dbeenmonitoringthem,thekillerwould’veheardeverywordheandCameronhad

saidthatevening.Fragmentsoftheirconversationsechoedthroughhishead:

I’mprettysuretheguywhokilledMandyRobardswaswearingagunthenighthestrangledher...

His name is Grant Lombard. He does private security for Senator Hodges . . . He matches the

physicaldescriptionoftheguywe’relookingfor...

ByanychancedoesGrantLombardhaveanalibiforthenightofMandyRobards’smurder?...

PerhapsIneedtoaskhimifhehasanalibiforthetimeofyourattack.

ThenJackrecalledaseparateconversation,anearlierone,andhiswholebodywentcold.

Todisarmthealarm,youjustenterthesecuritycode.

What’sfive-two-two-five?

Itspells“Jack”onthekeypad.Shouldbeeasyenoughtoremember.

Thekillerknewthecodetothealarm.

“Cameron,” Jack whispered, his heart leaping into his throat. He’d left her alone . . . he couldn’t

hearherrightthen...thesecondfloorwastooquiet...JackdroppedhisBlackBerryandreachedfor
hisshoulderharness—

“Don’tmakeafuckingmove,”commandedalowvoicebehindhim.

Thedistinctivesoundoftheslideofagunchamberingaroundechoedthroughtheroom.

Withhishandfrozenathisharness,Jacklookedoverhisshoulder.Hetookinthemanstandingin

thedoorway,aimingagunrightathishead.

“Lombard,”Jackgrowled.

“You almost had it there, Pallas. Almost,” Lombard said. “Now take the shoulder harness off.

Slowly.”

ThefirstthingJacknoticedwasthatLombarddidn’thaveasilenceronhisgun.Whichmeantthat

Cameronwasstillalivedownstairs.Lombardhadcomeafterhimfirst.

“Isaidtaketheshoulderharnessoff.Now,”Lombardsaidquietly.

JackreadthelookonLombard’sfaceandknewhewasn’tbluffing.Heunhookedtheharnessandset

itonthefloor.He’dbenogoodtoCameronifLombardblewhisbrainsallovertheofficewallright
thenandthere.

“Kickitoverhere,”Lombardsaid.

Jackcomplied.HiseyesremainedtrainedonthetriggerofLombard’sgun.Onetwitchandhe’dbe

outofthatchair.Divetothefloor,pullthedeskover,anduseitasashield.Itwasn’tthebestplan,but
itwassomething.

ThenLombardchangedthegame.

“CameronLynde,”hecalledoutloudly,hisvoicereverberatingthroughthetopfloor.“Ihaveagun

pointedatyourboyfriend’shead.Ifyou’renotonthelandinginthreeseconds,Iwillkillhim.”

Jack forced himself to sound calm and controlled. “Get out of the house now, Cameron. Let me

handlethis.”

Lombarddidn’tsomuchasblink.“Threeseconds,Cameron.One,Two—”

“Don’t.”

Thesingle,shakywordcamefromthelandingahalfafloorbelowthem.

“Goodgirl,Cameron,”Lombardsaid.

Thethreeofthemremainedinaholdingpattern.Lombardinthedoorway,pointinghisgunatJack,

Cameronoutofviewonhisotherside,halfwaydownthestairs.

“IfIhearagunshot,I’llrun,”shecalledup.“AndIknowit’smeyoureallywant.”

“Neitherofyouhastogethurt—Iknowawaywecanworkthisout,”Lombardsaid.

“Don’tlistentoafuckingwordhesays,Cameron.Getoutofthehousenow,”Jackorderedher.

“Iwanttomakeadeal,”Lombardsaid,talkingoverhim.“That’sall.You’reaprosecutor,Cameron

—youcanmakeithappen.Andthisguninmyhandgivesyouonehellofanincentivetodojustthat.I
knowthings—likethenameofthepersonwhotoldmeaboutyou.There’samole—abigone.Ican
help you nail him. But we need to talk about this face-to-face. How do I know you’re not standing
therewithaphoneinyourhand,callingthepolicerightnow?Socomeupthestairsslowly,withyour
handsinfrontofyou.Doitnow,Cameron.OrJackdies.”

It almost sounded convincing. Jack prayed she wouldn’t fall for Lombard’s speech. “It’s a setup,

Cameron.Youcomeupthosestairs,andwe’rebothdead.”

Therewasapause.Cameronremainedstrangelysilent.Debatingheroptions,presumably.

Jackknewthetimetoactwasnow.Inhismind,therewasonlyoneoption,andthatwasgettingher

asfarawayfromLombardaspossible.Nomatterwhatittook.

She’d said she would run if she heard a gun shot. He had to count on that. He would draw

Lombard’sfireandgiveCameronachancetoescape.Hewouldn’tstopuntilhereachedLombard,no
matterwhathithim.

Othermenhadtriedtokillhimbefore.ForCameron’ssake,hewaswillingtoseeifthisasshole’s

luckwasanybetterthantheothers.

Jackgotreadytomakehismove.

BeadsofsweatformedatLombard’sbrow.Hecalleddownagain,andhisvoicewasstrainedand

anxious.“You’vegottwofuckingseconds,Cameron,soeithergetyourassuphereorsaygood-bye
toJack.”

“Okay!I’mcoming,”Cameronshoutedupurgently.

Butshewasn’tonthelandinganymore.Therewasthefaintsoundofadooropening—itcamefrom

thehallwayonthefloorbeneaththem.Ahingesqueaked.Somethingmetalrattled.

“She’sgettingagoddamngun,”Lombardhissed.

Fortunately, Jack knew the layout of the house a lot better than Lombard. Not a gun, he thought,

realizingpreciselywhatCameronwasupto.

Shewasfuckingbrilliant.

Thedoorshehadopened,theoneclosesttothestairs,washerlinencloset.Andwhiletherewasn’ta

gunstashedinthere—atleastnotonethatJackknewabout—therewassomethingelsethatcouldhelp
them.

Thecircuitbreaker.

Lombardsnapped,havinghadenough.“Fuckyouboth.”HiseyesnarrowedinonJack.Everything

happened at once. He pulled the trigger as Jack dove for the ground, knowing what was coming.
TherewasaloudCLICK!fromdownstairsand—

Allthelightsinthehousewentout.

Thegunfiredinthedark,andthebulletwhizzedoverJack’shead.Notwastingamoment,heleapt

upandranforLombard.LombardreactedmorequicklytothesurpriseofthedarknessthanJackhad

hoped;hetookoffintothehallway.Lombardfiredwildlybehindhim,andbulletshitthewallsbeside
Jack.Hekeptgoing.GainingonLombardrightbeforethestairwell,Jacksawhischance—hedove
andtackledLombardfull-force.GrabbingforLombard’sgun,Jackpushedhimbackwardatthesame
time,usingallhisstrengthtohurtlethemtowardthewoodenbanister.Jackbracedhimself—thiswas
goingtohurt—astheyslammedagainstthebanisterandbrokethroughwithaloudcrack.

Tangledtogether,bothmenplummetedthirty-fivefeetdowntheopenstaircase.

Theylandedhardonthefirst-floorfoyer.Jackheardthesickeningsoundofbreakingboneashe

crashedontopofLombard,whoscreamedoutinpain.

JackinstinctivelylungedforLombard’sgun,grittinghisteethattheflashofpaininhischest—he

musthavebrokenafewribs.Fightingoffawaveofdizzinessfromtheshockofthefall,hepushed
awayfromLombard,stoodup,andpointedthegunathim.

Jackcaughthisbreathandwipedbloodoffhisforeheadwithhissleeve.Oneofthebulletshadhit

thewallsoclosetohisheadhe’dbeencutbyaflyingpieceofplaster.

“Almosthaditthere,Lombard,”hepanted.“Almost.”

Jack heard footsteps above him. He looked up and saw Cameron running down the stairs. Seeing

him,shestoppedonthelandingbetweenthefirstandsecondfloorsandsankagainstthewallinrelief.
JackrealizedthenthatheandLombardmust’vefallenthroughthestairwellrightpasther.

Withalookofshock,Cameronpeeredupatthethirdfloor,allthirty-fivefeetup,thenbackathim.

“MyGod,Jack.”

ShecaughtsightofLombardthroughthemoonlightandswallowed.HelayonthefloorbeforeJack

withhisrightlegbentatagrotesqueanglebeneathhim.Breathingheavily,heclutchedhisrightarm
tohischestandwatchedJackwarily.

Withalltheaction,JackhadlostcountofhowmanytimesLombardhadfiredathim.Hepoppedout

theclipoftheguntoseeifitwasstillloaded.Threeroundsleft—morethanenough.Heslammedthe
clipbackin.

HeandLombardhadsomeunfinishedbusinesstodiscuss.

“Goupstairstoyourbedroom,Cameron.Don’tcomeoutuntilItellyou,”Jacksaid.

Shenodded.“Right.I’llcallforbackupandanambulance.”

“Don’tcallanyone.Justgoupstairs.”

Hereyeswidened.“Whatareyougoingtodo?”

“Youdon’tneedtoknow.You’reanassistantU.S.attorney—youcan’tbeapartofthis.”

Lombard’seyeswidenednervously.

Cameronhesitatedonthelanding,andforamomentJackthoughtshewasn’tgoingtolistentohim.

“Okay,”shefinallysaid.Sheleft,andafewsecondslaterJackheardthedoortoherbedroomshut.

HeturnedhisattentiontoLombard,whowassweatingprofuselyashelayonthefloorathisfeet.

“Whenwewereupstairs,youtalkedaboutthepersonwhotoldyouaboutCameron’sinvolvementin

theRobardscase.Iwanttoknowwhoitwas.”

Lombardcoughed,wheezinginpain.“Fuckyou,Pallas.”

“Youmightwanttosavethatforlater.Ihaven’tevengottenstartedyet.”

“Fuckyouanyway.”

JacksquatteddownatLombard’sside.“You’vebeenlisteningtoCameronandmethiswholetime,”

hesaidquietly.

Lombard tried to laugh, but it came out sounding hollow. “Almost every word. Loved the part

where you wouldn’t fuck her after I shot her. You’re as weak as the rest, Pallas. All because of a
woman.”

MaybeLombardsawhimasweakbecauseofCameron,Jackthought.

Buttonightshewashisgreateststrength.

“Since you’ve been listening, you know what she means to me. I would kill anyone who harmed

her,”hesaidwithcoldsimplicity.“Givemeaname,andI’llmakeanexception.”

Lombarddidn’tsayanything.Buthedidn’tlooksosmuganymore,either.

Jackbroughtthegunincloser.“Youshother.Iwatchedasyoutookthisverygunandhelditunder

her chin. Like this.” He grabbed Lombard’s jaw and shoved the gun right under his chin. Lombard
flinched,breathingheavilythroughhisnose.

Jackpushedthebarrelharder,diggingintoLombard’sskin.“Givemeanexcusetopullthistrigger.

IwanttodoitsobadlyIcantasteit.”

“Iwantadeal,”Lombardblurtedoutthroughclenchedteeth.

Jack nodded. “I believe you actually mean that this time.” He pressed the gun to Lombard’s

forehead.“Here’sthedeal:tellmewhatIwanttoknow,andIwon’thavetotellthemedicalexaminer
thatIshotyoubetweentheeyesinself-defense.”

Lombardswallowedhard.Hesaidnothingatfirst,butJacksawitinhiseyes.

Defeat.

LombardsaggedagainstthefloorandfinallygaveJacktheanswerhe’dbeenwaitingfor.

“SilasBriggs.”

LESSTHANTENminutesafterJackcalledforbackup,thehousewasteamingwithpeople—somein
uniforms, some not. He told the paramedics what had happened to Lombard, then spoke briefly to
bothWilkinsandthecops.

Jack stood side-by-side with Wilkins, watching as the paramedics placed a neck brace onto a

handcuffed Lombard and slid a backboard underneath him. He glanced up at Cameron. She’d been
sitting on the steps of the landing ever since the cops and FBI had arrived. He sensed she hadn’t
wantedtogettooclosetoLombardashelayontheflooratthebottomofthestaircase.Hehopedshe
wasn’ttryingtoavoidhimaswell.

“I’dlikeaminutealonewithCameron,”JacksaidtoWilkins.“Couldyouseetothat?”

Wilkinsnodded.“Ofcourse.I’llmakesureeveryonestaysdownhere.”

Jack grabbed a blanket the paramedics had brought in, slipped past Lombard on the stairs, and

headedup.HekneltdownandwrappedtheblanketaroundCameron’sshoulders.“Areyouokay?”

Sheshookherhead.“No.”

Jacknoticedshewastrembling.Hehelpedhertoastandingposition,thenledherupthestairsand

intoherbedroom.Heclosedthedoorbehindthem,tookherbythehand,andsatherdownonthebed.

“Saysomething,Cameron.Anything.”

Shesoundeddistantwhensheanswered.“Whenhecalleddownfromupstairs,Iwasstandingright

herebythisbed.”Shefrowned.“IwastryingtodecidewhatunderwearIwasgoingtoweartobedthat
night, wondering if you liked black or red better.” Her voice cracked. “Then this strange voice
shouteddownthathehadagunpointedatyourheadandthatyouhadthreesecondstolive.”

Jack knelt at the floor in front of her. “You did so great. Cutting off the power was the smartest

thinganyonecould’vedoneinthatsituation.”

Shewipedhereyes.“Right,I’msuchahero.Youdoveoffathirty-five-footstaircase.Iturnedoffa

lightswitch.”

“It...wasaverykeylightswitch.”

Shesniffed.Hernosewasredandhermascarawassmudgedunderneathhereyes.Jackthoughthe

had never seen anyone look so beautiful. When he thought about what could’ve happened . . . how
closehe’dcometolosingher...

“You’redoingtheseriousfaceagain.”Camerontouchedhischeek,lookinghimoverwithconcern.

“Areyouhurt?Youhavetobe,afterthatfall.”

“Imight’vebrokenafewribs,”Jacksaid.

“What?Weneedtogetoneoftheparamedicstocheckyouout.Youcouldhaveinternalbleedingor

something.”

“It’sfine.I’llhavesomeonetakealooklater,whenI’mfinishedwithallthis.”

Sheshookherhead.“Notlater,Jack.Now.You’renotinvincible,youknow.”

“Shh...I’vebeentryingtokeepthatunderwrapsforyears.”

Thatfinallygotaslightsmileoutofher.Jackgotupandsatnexttoheronthebed.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I didn’t go into my room, you know. I stayed in the

upstairshallwaytolisten.”

“Ifiguredasmuch.”

Cameron turned her head to look at him. “Those things you said to Lombard . . . were you

bluffing?”

Jackthoughtabouthisresponsetothis.He’dsaidalotofthingstoLombard.Butrightorwrong,

themanshe’dhearddowntherewashim.“Doesitmatter?”heaskedher.

Shepausedforamomentbeforeshakingherhead.

“No.”

Twenty-nine

“THERE’SSOMEONEHEREtoseeyou,Cameron.”

Cameronglancedattheclockonherdeskcomputer.Itwasaftertwoo’clock,whichsurprisedher.

She’d been so caught up taking notes on the case files she’d been reading, she’d worked straight
throughlunch.

“Thanks,Elaine.Doesthissomeonehaveaname?”Shecheckedhercalendar—shedidn’thaveany

appointmentswrittendownforthatafternoon.

Through the speakerphone, the front desk receptionist’s voice lowered to a whisper. “I’m not

supposedtotellyou.”

Aftereverythingshe’dbeenthroughrecently,Cameronwasn’tsureshelikedthesoundofthat.She

pickedupthephone.“DoIatleastknowthisperson?”

“Yes.Definitely,”Elainesaid.

“Thenwhycan’tIknowwhoheorsheis?”

“Idon’tknow—hejustsaidIshouldaskyoutocomeouthere.Oh,he’slookingover.Igottago.”

Elainequicklyhungup.

Cameronsetthephonebackinitscradle.Sheconsideredthepossibilities.

JackorCollin?

Whicheverofthetwoitwas,hewastakinghertolunch,shedecided.Shewasstarving.

She got up from her desk and headed out into the hallway, wondering what all the mystery was

about.HerinstinctstoldheritwasJack.Hehaddroppedbyherofficefrequentlyoverthelastcouple
ofweeks,forbothprofessionalandpersonalreasons.

Thinkingabouthimneverfailedtoputasmileonherface.SinceLombard’sarrest,Jackhadspent

nearlyeverynightatherhouse—theonlyexceptionsbeingthefewnightsshe’dspentathisloft.They
were busy during the week, each of them having been thrust back into work after the night of the
attack,buttheymadeupforitintheeveningsandonweekends.Jackhaddecidedtotakeonthejobof
repairing the stairwell banister, along with a few other renovations to her house, and Cameron had
decidedto assist him—whichmeant that shesat in the cornerdrinking wine andreading one of the
hundredsofbooksfromhiscollectionthatslowlyseemedtobetricklingintoherhouse.She’dpoke
herheadupeveryonceinawhileandchimeinwithhertwocents,andthensomewherearoundher
secondglassshe’dstartnoticingallthewaysinwhichJack’smusclesflexedunderhisT-shirtwhile
heworked,andhowdelicioushelookedgettingsweatyandmussed,anduh-oh,suddenlythey’dbeon
thefloorgettingsweatyandmussedinwaysthatdidn’trequireahammerandnails.

Bestofall,though,shelovedthewaytheytalked—whetheritwascomingoutofthemovietheater,

atarestaurantoverdinner,orlyingonthecouchwithherheadagainstJack’schestashetoldabout

hisformercasesandshesharedmemoriesofherdad.

Luckily, the media attention surrounding them finally seemed to be dying down—something they

both were looking forward to. The biggest story in the press for the last two weeks had been the
indictment and subsequent resignation of the U.S. attorney for the Northern District of Illinois. All
things considered, Cameron supposed, Silas’s arrest had gone smoothly enough. The Monday
morning after Lombard’s attack, she had “happened” to be out in the reception area when Jack and
Wilkinshadarrivedwiththeirarrestwarrant.There’dbeenalotofyellingandswearingonSilas’s
part, particularly as Jack put the handcuffs on him. Standing off to the side with a few of the other
assistant prosecutors, Cameron had watched as Jack remained calm and professional. He’d said
something in a low voice only Silas could hear, and Silas nodded mutely, his lower lip quivering.
Strangely,afterthathe’dbeenfullycooperative.

Closely following the scandal involving Silas had been the one with Grant Lombard—it wasn’t

everyday,afterall,thataU.S.senator ’sprivatebodyguardwasarrestedformurderingacallgirlin
oneofChicago’smostluxurioushotels.Thisarrest,unfortunately,hadputCameronandJackdirectly
in the spotlight: after the attacks it became impossible to keep secret the fact that she had been a
witness(sortof)tothemurder.ThemediaquicklylinkedherandJacktogetherfromtheapparently
never-to-be-forgotten “head up her ass” comment of three years ago. Although the rehashing of
Jack’sremarksusuallybroughtonanothergloweringsessiononhispart,Cameronpersonallyfound
itamusingtowatch.She’devenslippedonce—whilehewastryingtowrestletheremotecontrolout
ofherhandstoturnofftheteno’clocknews,she’dteasinglysaidtheyshouldsharethefootagewith
theirkidssomedayasevidenceoftheirloveatfirstsight.WhenJackhadn’timmediatelyscrambled
offthecouchtoheadforthehills,andinsteadhadgottenquiteamorousafterhercomment,shetook
itasasignthatshehadn’tcompletelyfreakedhimout.

Now, looking forward to Jack’s unexpected visit, Cameron picked up her stride and turned the

cornerintothemainreceptionareaoftheoffice.

Hewasn’tthere.Theentirewaitingareawasempty,infact.

Overatthereceptiondesk,Elaineheldupherhands.“Hetoldmehedidn’twanttowaitouthere—

saidhewantedtospeaktoyousomeplaceprivate.IputhiminSilas’soldofficesincenooneisusing
itrightnow.”

Veryodd,Cameronthought.Moreintriguedthanever,shecutacrossthewaitingareaandthrough

thecorridorontheoppositeside.WhenshegottoSilas’sformeroffice,shesawatall,well-builtman
standingoutsidethedoor.Henoddedassheapproached.

“Youcangorightin,Ms.Lynde.”

Keeping an eye out, Cameron cautiously opened the door and stepped inside. A stout man with

neatlytrimmedsilverhairandanexpensivesuitstoodbeforethewindow,lookingoutattheviewof
LakeMichigan.Whenshewalkedin,heturnedaroundandsmiledatherwithagenteelair.

“Goodafternoon,Ms.Lynde.Thankyouformeetingwithmeonsuchshortnotice.”

Cameronshutthedoorbehindher.“SenatorHodges,”shesaidwithsurprise.“It’sapleasuretomeet

you.What...bringsyoutoourofficetoday?”Despitetheirbizarreconnection,andthefactthatshe
knewfarmoreaboutthesenator ’spersonallifethanshehadeverwantedto,they’dactuallynevermet
orspokentoeachother.

Hodgescrossedtheroom.“Ithinkwebothknowthisvisitisoverdue,Cameron.IsitokayifIcall

youCameron?”HesatdowninoneofthetwoleatherchairsinfrontofSilas’solddesk.“Whydon’t
youhaveaseat?”

Cameronnodded.“Certainly.”

In light of everything that had happened that night at the Peninsula, it felt weird sitting in Silas’s

formerofficewithHodges.Really,though,itwould’vefeltweirdsittingwithhimanywhere.

“I’mgreatlyindebtedtoyou,Cameron,andIwantedtothankyouinperson,”Hodgessaid.“From

whatSpecialAgentDavistellsme,yousingle-handedlykeptmefrombeingarrestedandundoubtedly
savedmysenateseat.Innocentornot,Ineverwould’vesurvivedthescandalofbeingimplicatedina
murder.Letalonemy...connectionstoMs.Robards.”

“Iappreciatethat,Senator.Buthonestly,theFBIteamassignedtothecasedeservesallthecredit.I

justhappenedtobeinthewrongplaceatthewrongtime.”

“You were nearly killed for being in that place at that time,” Hodges said. “I can’t tell you how

sorryIamforthat.HowsorryIamforalotofthings,actually.Iwasafoolishmanandmymistakes
hurtothers.Insomecases,gravelyso.”Hiseyescloudedwithsadness.

Cameron nodded, unsure how to respond. Talking to Hodges was sobering. Despite the fact that

MandyRobards’sintentionstowardthesenatorhadbeenlessthanhonorable—asJackhadconfirmed
nowthatLombardhadtoldhimallabouttheblackmailscheme—thewholeincidentremainedasad
testamenttothelengthssomepeoplewouldgotoformoney.Oroutofdesperation.

“I’veupsetyou,”Hodgessaid.

“I’mfine.I’mjustrelievedit’sallover.”

“Actually, it’s not quite all over,” Hodges said. “Silas Briggs’s resignation means I have an

importanttaskahead.AstheseniorsenatorfromIllinois,it’smydutytomakearecommendationto
the president regarding the person who should be named the new U.S. attorney. And I think I might
knowofjusttherightcandidate.”Hepauseddeliberately.

Cameronpulledbackinsurprise.“Me?”

Hodgesnodded.“You.”

Camerontriedtodecidehowbesttorespond.“Iappreciatetheconsideration,Senator.Truly,Ido.

ButifIcanbeblunt,Idon’texpectyoutooffermethejoboutofgratitude.NordoIwantyouto.”

Hodgessmiledatthis,asifheapprovedofheranswer.“Ihadafeelingyouweregoingtosaythat.

So let me assure you that this has nothing to do with gratitude. After the allegations being brought
against Silas, the last thing I would do right now is risk further potential scandal by naming a
candidate who isn’t fully qualified for the job. If anything, your connection to me counted against
you.”

Cameronremainedskeptical.

Hodgeslaughed.“DoIneedtoconvinceyoufurther?”

“Ifyou’reseriousaboutthis,thenyes,youdo.”

“GoodGod,theyweren’tkiddingwhentheysaidyouwereatoughnuttocrack,”Hodgesmuttered.

“Fine—I’llgiveyouthehighlights,thefactsthatmostconvincedmewhenmyvettingteamcameup
withyourname.YouhavethebesttrialrecordamongalltheassistantU.S.attorneysinthisdistrict.
The judges—yes, we do talk to judges—say you’re fearless and tenacious in the courtroom. After
Briggs,frankly,that’swhatthisofficeneeds.Youlookgoodonpaper:youcomefromablue-collar
background,youputyourselfthroughlawschool,yourfatherdiedheroicallyasanofficerofthelaw,
andthemediaalreadythinksyou’vegotballsmadeofbrassforsurvivingtheordealwithLombard.
But what most convinced me, Cameron—and I know you’re being very humble and low-key about
this—is that, per the request of the attorney general himself, you’ve been temporarily running this
officesinceSilas’sdeparture.Seeinghowyouhaven’tburneddowntheplaceyet,IthoughtI’dgive
youarealshotatthejob.Thatis...unlessyoudon’twantit.”

Cameron got butterflies in her stomach. Holy shit, this was really going to happen. No need to

convinceherfurther.“Iwouldbehonored,Senator,tobeyournomineefortheposition.”

Hodges looked relieved. “Good. Whew. I have to be honest with you—we didn’t have much of a

backupplan.I’mactuallysweatingalittleundermyjackethere.”

Cameronlaughed.“I’lltrytobelessdifficultinthefuture.”

Hodgessmiledwarmlyasheshookherhand.“Youdothingsexactlythewayyouseefit,Cameron.”

They rose from their chairs and walked to the door together. “Funny you should mention that,

Senator...becauseIhopeyouunderstandthat,unlikeSilas,Idon’tplantobemerelyafigureheadin
thisposition.Iintendtokeeptryingcases.”

“With your record, you try all the cases you want. Just make sure you win them.” With a wink,

Hodgesopenedthedoorandnoddedtohisguardoutside.

Cameronwatchedthemleave.ShestoodaloneinSilas’soffice,tryingtowraphermindaroundthe

factthattherewasagoodchanceitwasgoingtobeherofficeinthenot-too-distantfuture.

U.S.AttorneyCameronLynde.

Thathadaniceringtoit.

Withagrin,sheheadedbacktohersoon-to-be-formerofficeasfastasdignityandherthree-and-a-

half-inchheelsallowedher.Oncethere,sheshutthedoorforprivacy,thensatdownatherdeskand
pickedupthephone.

He was her first call, of course, and she told him everything. When she had finished sharing her

news,shecouldtellbyhisvoicethathewassmilingontheotherendoftheline.

“Congratulations,counselor,”Jacksaid.“Youdeserveit.”

Shecouldtellfromhistonethathewashidingsomething.“Youknewalready,didn’tyou?”

Jacklaughed.“Okay,Iknew.Davisletitslipthattwoagentsinourofficehadbeenassignedyour

backgroundcheck.I’vehadreservationseverynightthisweekatSpiaggia,waitingforHodgestotell
you.Ifiguredyoushouldfinallygetyourdinnerthere,andthiswastheperfectreason.”

Impossibleman—beingallsweetandeverything.“I’mstilltryingtodecidehowIfeelaboutthefact

thatyouknewaboutthisbeforeIdid.”

“Don’t be disappointed,” Jack said. “The fact that I’ve been ridiculously proud of you for days

doesn’t change how excited you should be about this. Besides, I pretty much know everything. You

shouldprobablyjuststartgettingusedtoit.”

“Andonthatnote,I’mhangingup,”Cameronsaid.

“RushingmeoffsoyoucancallCollinnext?”Jackteased.

“No,”shesaidemphatically.

Damn,hereallydidknoweverything.

AND TWO WEEKS later, they had another occasion to celebrate. Albeit, one Jack was a little less
enthusedabout.

“Happy birthday, Jack,” Cameron said as they sat down at one of the bar tables to wait. She’d

brought him to Socca restaurant that evening, a neighborhood bistro just a few blocks from her
house.“Thirty-five.Ithinkthatmeritsapresentortwo.”

Jackfrowned.“Cameron,Itoldyounottogetmeanything.”

“Well,IfiguredthatwasoneofyourseeminglyendlesssupplyofordersthatIplantoignore.”She

pulledtwoenvelopesoutofherpurseandsetthemonthetableinfrontofhim.Onewaslargeand
aboutaninchthick,theothersmallbutwithsomesortofobjectinit.“Choose.”

Jackpickedupthelargerenvelope.

“Goodchoice,”shesaid.

Jack opened the envelope and found a thick, multiple-page document. He slid it out and flipped it

over.Thenamesonthecaptionjumpedoutathim:

UNITEDSTATESOFAMERICAv.ROBERTOMARTINO,etal

Itwasacriminalindictment,signedbytheU.S.attorneyherself,chargingthirty-fourmembersof

Martino’sorganization,includingRobertoMartino,withoverahundredcountsoffederalandstate
law violations. It included everything from racketeering, drug, and firearm charges, to aggravated
assault,attemptedmurder,andmurder.

Jackpagedsilentlythroughtheindictment.Whenhewasabouthalfwaythrough,heslowedandread

carefullythroughthecountspertainingtothemurderoftheDEAagenthehadtriedtowarn,andhis
own torture at the hands of Martino’s men. All of which was laid out, paragraph by paragraph, in
graphicdetail.

“Idon’tcareifIdon’tgetthemonanythingelse.I’llhangthemforthatalone,”Cameronpromised

quietly. “I’m going to file it next week. I thought I might as well kick off my new position with a
bang.”

Jackslidtheindictmentbackintotheenvelope.Itwouldbeabang,allright.Hereachedoverand

lacedhisfingersthroughhers.Sheknewwhattheindictmentmeanttohim,butheneededtobecertain
shewasn’tdoingitforthewrongreasons.“Areyousureaboutthis?”

“Definitely.I’vewantedtotrythiscaseforthreeyears.”

“Thingscouldgetcrazy,”Jackwarnedher.“Youneedtobecarefulhowyouhandlethis.Lombard

andSilasarenothingincomparisontotakingonRobertoMartino.”

“I’vegivenalotofthoughtastohowweshouldproceed,”Cameronsaid.“I’dliketobringinall

theagents from theChicago office, onesfrom some of theother divisions aswell, and execute the
arrest warrants in a simultaneous strike. Grab Martino and his guys in one fell swoop so that they
don’t have time for a counter-move. I’ll need someone I can count on to lead the task force. I was
thinkingthatshouldbeyou.IalsothinkyoushouldbetheonetoarrestMartinohimself.”

Jack considered the implications of everything she had just said. Part of it had him slightly

panicked.

Cameron cocked her head, misinterpreting his expression. “I thought you’d want the honor of

takingdownMartino.”

“Oh,hellyes.”

“Thenwhat’swiththelook?”

“ItjustoccurredtomethatasU.S.attorney,you’renowinapositionofauthorityoverme.”

Cameronraisedaneyebrow.“You’reright,AgentPallas.Thereisanewsheriffintown.”

“Cute.Howlonghaveyoubeenwaitingtosaythat?”

She laughed. “About two weeks.” She pushed the second envelope in front of him. “Don’t forget

aboutyourotherpresent.”

Jack picked it up. “I’m thinking nothing can top my sworn enemy’s head on a platter.” He ripped

opentheenvelopeandslidoutitscontents.

He’dbeenwrong.

Keysandagaragedooropener.

Momentarilycaughtoffguard—arareeventforhim—JacklookedupatCameron.“Doesthismean

whatIthinkitmeans?”

“Isupposethatdependsonwhatyouthinkitmeans.IfyouthinkitmeansI’maskingyoutomovein

withme,you’dberight.”Herexpressionturnedmoreserious.

“IfyoualsothinkitmeansthatIwakeupeverymorningwonderingwhatIdidtodeservehaving

youbackinmylife,well,you’dberightaboutthat,too.”

Jacksatthereforamoment,just...stunned.Noonehadeversaidanythinglikethattohim.

“Comehere,”hesaidhuskily.Hegrabbedherchairandpulledittowardhis.Hekissedher,softlyat

first,thenhishandmovedtoherbackandpushedhercloserashisemotionsgotthebetterofhim.He
pulledbacktoholdhergaze.“Iloveyou,Cameron.Youknowthat,right?”

Shekissedhimback,whisperingthewordsinhisear.“Iloveyou,too.”

IttookallofJack’sstrengthnottohaulheroutoftherestaurantanddragherhomerightthenand

there.Thecombinationofeverythingshe’djustsaid,nottomentiontheblacksweater,slim-fitskirt,
and heels she was wearing, was driving him crazy. He threw her a sneaky grin. “I hope you won’t
mindskippingdesserttonight.I’vegottogetyoualone.I’mdyinghere.”

“MyGod,Jack—withalooklikethat,youtwoshouldjustgetaroom.Andtrynottopicktheone

withadeadbodynexttoitthistime.”

Hearingthefamiliarmalevoice,Jacksworeunderhisbreath.“Seriously,Cameron—yourfriends

havetheworsttimingever.”HeturnedaroundandsawCollinstandingbeforehim.

“Happy birthday, buddy.” Collin grinned, slapping him on the back. Behind him, Jack could see

Wilkins,Richard,Amy,andherhusband.

“Iinvitedafewpeopletohelpcelebrateyourbirthday,”Cameronsaidsheepishly.Shethrewupher

hands.“Surprise.”

“Wesortofcomewiththepackage,”Collinexplained.“Thinkofitasacollectivegiftfromallof

ustoyou:fivebonafideannoyingandoverlyintrusivenewbestfriends.”

“It’sthegiftthatkeepsongiving,”Wilkinssaid.

Jackgrinned.“I’mtouched.Really.AndsinceitappearsI’mgoingtobemovingin,letmebethe

firsttosaythatallofyouarealwayswelcomeatmyandCameron’shouse.Subjecttoaminimumof
forty-eighthourspriornotification.”

Whenthehostesscamebytoescortthemtotheirtable,CameronheldJackbackfromtherestofthe

group.“You’reokaywiththis?”sheasked.

“Yes.It’sgreat.”Hekissedherforehead.“Thankyou.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “And in answer to your earlier question, I don’t mind

skippingdessert.Infact,Ialreadyhaveadessertplannedforwhenwegethome.”

Jacklikedthesoundofthat.“CanIhaveahint?”

“Itinvolvesmewearingyourhandcuffs.”

Christ, full-mast. The thought of her naked and at his mercy threw his body into a tailspin. Jack

pulledherintoacornerwheretheywereoutofsight.“Thehellwithdinner—we’releavingnow,”he
growled.

Cameronshookherheadcoyly.“Wecan’tleaveyourpartysoearly.Thatwouldbeindecent.”

Inresponsetoherteasing,Jackputhishandsonthewallnexttoher,pinningherin.“So,Ms.Lynde

...isthathowit’sgoingtobewithyou?”

Hereyesflasheddevilishly.

“Always.”

KeepreadingforapreviewofJulieJames’snextromance

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THECHIMERANGonthefrontdoorofthewinestore.JordanRhodescameoutofthebackroom,
whereshe’dbeensneakingaquickbiteforlunch.Shesmiled.“Youagain.”

Itwastheguyfromlastweek,theonewho’dlookedskepticalwhenshe’drecommendedacabernet

fromSouthAfricathat—gasp—hadascrewtop.

“So?How’dyouliketheExcelsior?”sheasked.

“Goodmemory,”hesaid,impressed.“Youwereright.It’sgood.Particularlyatthatpricepoint.”

“It’sgoodatanypricepoint,”Jordansaid.“Thefactthatitsellsforlessthantendollarsmakesita

steal.”

The man’s blue eyes lit up as he grinned. He was dressed in a navy car coat and jeans, and wore

expensive leather Italian loafers—probably too expensive for the six to eight inches of snow they
wereexpectedtogetthatevening.Hisdarkblondhairwasmussedfromthewindoutside.

“You’ve convinced me. Put me down for a case. I’m having a dinner party in two weeks and the

Excelsior will be perfect.” He pulled off his leather gloves and set them on the long ebony wood
counterthatdoubledasabarwhenJordanhostedeventsintheshop.“I’mthinkingI’llpairitwithleg
oflamb,maybeseasonedwithblackpepperandmustardseed.Rosemarypotatoes.”

Jordanraisedaneyebrow.Themanknewhisfood.AndtheExcelsiorwouldcertainlycomplement

themenu,althoughshepersonallysubscribedtothemorerelaxed“drinkwhatyouwant”philosophy
of wine rather than putting the emphasis on finding the perfect food pairing—a fact that constantly
scandalized her assistant store manager, Martin. He was a certified level three sommelier, and thus
had a certain view on things; while she, on the other hand, was the owner of the store and thus
believed in making wine approachable to the customer. Sure, she loved the romance of wine—that
wasoneofthemainreasonsshehadopenedherstore,DeVineVintages.Butforher,winewasalsoa
business.

“Soundsdelicious.Itakeityouliketocook,”shesaidtothemanwiththegreatsmile.Greathair,

too. Nicely styled, on the longer side. He wore a gray scarf wrapped loosely around his neck that
gavehimanairofcasualsophistication.

Heshrugged.“Itcomeswiththejob.”

“Letmeguess—you’reachef.”

“Foodcritic.WiththeTribune.”

Jordancockedherhead,suddenlyrealizing.“You’reCalKittredge.”

Heseemedpleasedbyherrecognition.“Youreadmyreviews.”

“Religiously. With so many restaurants in this city to choose from, it’s nice to have an expert’s

opinion.”

Calleanedagainstthecounter.“Anexpert,huh...I’mflattered,Jordan.”

So,heknewhername.

Unfortunately,alotofpeopleknewhername.Betweenherfather ’swealthandherbrother ’srecent

infamy,rarewastheperson,atleastinChicago,whowasn’tfamiliarwiththeRhodesfamily.

Jordanheadedbehindthecounterandopenedthelaptopshekeptthere.“AcaseoftheExcelsior—

you’vegotit.”Shepulledupherdistributor ’sdeliveryschedule.“Icanhaveitinthestorebyearly
nextweek.”

“That’splentyoftime.DoIpayforitnoworwhenIpickitup?”Calasked.

“Eitherone.Ifigureyou’regoodforit.AndnowIknowwheretofindyouifyou’renot.”

Okay, so she may have been flirting a little. For the last few months her family had been living

underanintensespotlightbecauseofthemesswithherbrother,and,frankly,datinghadbeenthelast
thingonhermind.Butthingswerefinallystartingtosettledown—asmuchasthingscouldeversettle
downwhenone’stwinbrotherwaslockedupinprison,shesupposed—anditfeltgoodtobeflirting.
Andiftheobjectofsaidflirtationjustsohappenedtohavepolished,refinedgoodlooks,well,allthe
better.

“MaybeIshouldskipoutonthebill,justtomakeyoucomelookforme,”Calteasedback.Hestood

oppositeherwiththecounterbetweenthem.“So,sinceyoureadmyrestaurantreviews,Itakeityou
trustmyopinionsonrestaurants?”

JordanglancedatCaloverthetopofhercomputerassheenteredhiswineorder.“AsmuchasI’d

trustacompletestrangeraboutanything,Isuppose.”

He laughed at that. “Good. Because there’s this Thai restaurant that just opened on Clark that’s

fantastic.”

“Goodtoknow,”Jordansaidpleasantly.“I’llhavetocheckitoutsometime.”

Forthefirsttimesinceenteringherwineshop,Callookeduncertain.“Oh.ImeantthatIthoughtyou

mightliketogotherewithme.”

Jordansmiled.Yes,she’dcaughtthat.Butshecouldn’thelpbutwonderhowmanyotherwomenCal

Kittredge had used his “Do you trust my opinions on restaurants?” line on. There was no doubt he
wascharmingandsmooth.Thequestionwaswhetherhewastoosmooth.

She straightened up from her computer and leaned one hip against the bar. “Let’s say this—when

you come back next week to pick up the Excelsior, you can tell me more about this new restaurant
then.”

Calseemedsurprisedbyhernonacceptance(shewouldn’tcallitarejection),butnotnecessarilyput

off.“Okay.It’sadate.”

“I’dcallitmore...acontinuation.”

“Areyoualwaysthistoughonyourcustomers?”heasked.

“OnlytheoneswhowanttotakemetoThairestaurants.”

“Nexttime,then,I’llsuggestItalian.”Withawink,Calgrabbedhisglovesoffthecounterandleft

thestore.

Jordanwatchedashewalkedpastthefrontwindowsofthestore.Shenoticedthataheavysnowhad

beguntofalloutside.Notforthefirsttime,shewasgladshelivedonlyafiveminutewalkfromthe
shop.Andthatshehadagoodpairofsnowboots.

“Mygod,Ithoughthe’dneverleave,”saidavoicefrombehindher.

Jordanturnedandsawherassistant,Martin,standingafewfeetaway,nearthehallwaythatledto

theirstorageroom.Hewalkedover,carryingacaseofanewzinfandeltheywereputtingoutinthe
storeforthefirsttime.Hesettheboxonthecounterandbrushedawayafewunrulyreddish-brown
curlsthathadfallenintohiseyes.“Whew.I’vebeenstandingbackthere,holdingthatthingforever.
FiguredI’dgiveyoutwosomeprivacy.Ithoughthewascheckingyououtwhenhecameinlastweek.
GuessIwasright.”

“Howmuchdidyouhear?”Jordanaskedasshebegantohelphimunpackthebottles.

“Iheardthathe’sCalKittredge.”

OfcourseMartinhadfocusedonthat.Hewastwenty-sevenyearsold,morewell-readthananyone

sheknew,andmadenoattempttohidethefactthathewasamajorfoodandwinesnob.Butheknew
everythingaboutwine,andfranklyhe’dgrownonher,andJordancouldn’timaginerunningtheshop
withouthim.

“HeaskedmetogotosomenewThairestaurantonClark,”shesaid.

“I’vebeentryingtogetreservationstherefortwoweeks.”Martinlinedtheremainingbottlesonthe

barandtossedtheemptyboxontothefloor.“Luckyyou.IfyoustartdatingCalKittredge,you’llbe
abletogetintoallthebestrestaurants.Forfree.”

Jordanmodestlyremainedsilentasshegrabbedtwobottlesofthezinandcarriedthemtoabinnear

thefrontofthestore.

“Oh...right,”Martinsaid.“Ialwaysforgetthatyouhave,like,abilliondollars.I’mguessingyou

don’tneedanyhelpgettingintorestaurants.”

Jordanthrewhimaneyeasshegrabbedtwomorebottles.“Idon’thaveabilliondollars.”

“Sure,justahundredmillion.”

Itwasthesameroutinenearlyeverytimethesubjectofmoneycameup.BecauseshelikedMartin,

sheputupwithit.Butwiththeexceptionofhimandasmallcircleofherclosestfriends,sheavoided
discussingfinanceswithothers.

Itwasn’texactlyasecret,however:Herfatherwasrich.Veryrich.Shehadn’tgrownupwithmoney;

itwassomethingherfamilyhadsimplystumbledinto.Herfather,basicallyacomputergeeklikeher
brother, was one of those overnight success stories Forbes and Newsweek loved to put on their
covers:AftergraduatingfromtheUniversityofIllinoiswithamastersdegreeincomputerscience,
Gray Rhodes went onto Northwestern University’s Kellogg School of Management. He then started
his own company in Chicago where he developed an antiviral protection program that exploded
worldwide and quickly became the top program of its kind on the market. Within two years of its
release to the public, the Rhodes AntiVirus protected one in every three computers in America. (A
statisticherfathermadesuretoincludeineveryinterview.)Andthuscamethemillions.Lotsofthem.

One might have certain impressions about her lifestyle, Jordan knew, given her father ’s financial

success. Some of those impressions would be accurate, others would not. Her father had set up
guidelinesfromthemomenthe’dmadehisfirstmillion,themostfundamentalbeingthatJordanand
her brother, Kyle, earn their own way—just as he had. As adults, they were wholly financially
independent from their father, and frankly, Jordan and Kyle wouldn’t have it any other way. On the
otherhand,theirfatherwasknowntobeextravagantwithgifts,particularlyaftertheirmotherdiedsix
yearsago.Take,forexample,theMaseratiQuattroportesittinginJordan’sgarage.Probablynotthe

typicalpresentonereceivedaftergraduatingbusinessschool.EvenHarvardBusinessSchool.

“We’ve had this conversation many times, Martin. That’s my father ’s money, not mine.” Jordan

wipedherhandsonatoweltheykeptunderthecounter,brushingoffthedustfromthewinebottles.
Shegesturedtothestore.“Thisismine.”Therewasprideinhervoice,andwhyshouldn’ttherebe?
She was the sole owner of DeVine Vintages, and business was good. Really good—certainly better
thanshe’deverprojectedatthispointinherten-yearplan.Ofcourse,shedidn’tmakeanywherenear
thehundredmillionherfathermayormaynothavebeenworth(shenevertalkedspecificsabouthis
money),butshedidwellenoughtopayforahouseintheupscaleLincolnParkneighborhood,and
stillhadmoneyleftoverforgreatshoes.Awomancouldn’taskformuchmore.

“Maybe.Butyoustillgetintoanyrestaurantyouwant,”Martinpointedout.

“Thisistrue.Idohavetopaythough,ifthatmakesyoufeelanybetter.”

Martinsniffedenviously.“Alittle.Soareyougoingtosayyes?”

“AmIgoingtosayyestowhat?”Jordanasked.

“ToCalKittredge.”

“I’mthinkingaboutit.”Asidefromapotentiallyslightexcessofsmoothness,heseemedtobejust

hertype.Hewasintofoodandwine,andbetteryet,hecooked.PracticallyaRenaissanceman.

“Ithinkyoushouldstringhimalongforawhile,”Martinsaid.“Keephimcomingbacksohe’llbuy

afewmorecasesbeforeyoucommit.”

“Greatidea.Maybewecouldevenstarthandingoutpunchcards.Getadatewiththeowneraftersix

purchases,thatkindofthing.”

“Idetectsomesarcasm,”Martinsaid.“Whichistoobad,becausethatpunchcardideaisnothalf-

bad.”

“Wecouldalwayspimpyououtasaprize,”Jordansuggested.

Martinsighedasheleanedhisslenderframeagainstthebar.Hisbowtieofchoicethatdaywasred,

whichJordanthoughtnicelycomplementedhisdarkbrowntweedjacket.

“Sadly, I’m underappreciated,” Martin said, sounding resigned to his fate. “A light-bodied pinot

unnoticedinaworlddominatedbybig,boldcabs.”

Jordanrestedherhandonhisshouldersympathetically.“Maybeyoujusthaven’thityourdrink-now

date.Perhapsyou’restillsittingontheshelf,waitingtoagetoyourfullpotential.”

Martinconsideredthis.“Sowhatyou’resayingis...I’mlikethePahlmeyer2006SonomaCoast

PinotNoir.”

Sure...exactlywhatshe’dbeenthinking.“Yep.That’syou.”

“They’reexpectinggreatthingsfromthe2006,youknow.”

Jordansmiled.“Thenweallbetterlookout.”

The thought seemed to perk Martin up. In good spirits, he headed off to the storage room for

anothercaseofthezinfandelwhileJordanreturnedtothebackroomtofinishherlunch.Itwasafter
threeo’clock,whichmeantthatifshedidn’teatnowshewouldn’tgetanotherchanceuntilthestore

closedatnine.Soonenough,theywouldhaveasteadystreamofcustomers.

Winewashot,oneofthefewindustriescontinuingtodowelldespitetheeconomicdownturn.But

Jordan liked to think her store’s success was based on more than just a trend. She’d searched for
monthsfortheperfectspace:onamajorstreet,wheretherewouldbeplentyoffoottraffic,andlarge
enoughtofitseveraltablesandchairsinadditiontothedisplayspacetheywouldneedforthewine.
With its warm tones and exposed brick walls, her store had an intimate feel that drew customers in
andinvitedthemtostayawhile.

By far the smartest business decision she’d made had been to apply for an on-premise liquor

license, which allowed them to pour and serve wine in the shop. She’d set up highboy tables and
chairsalongthefrontwindowsandtuckedafewadditionaltablesintocozynooksbetweenthewine
bins.Startingaroundfiveo’clockonvirtuallyeverynighttheywereopen,theplacewashoppingwith
customers buying wines by the glass and taking note of the bottles they planned to purchase when
leaving.

Today,however,wasnotoneofthosedays.

Outside, the snow continued to fall steadily. By seven o’clock the weathermen amended their

predictions and were now calling for a whopping eight to ten inches. In anticipation of the storm,
peoplewerestayinginside.Jordanhadaneventbookedatthestorethatevening,awinetasting,but
thepartycalledtoreschedule.SinceMartinhadalongercommutethanshedid,shesenthimhome
early.Atseventhirty,shebeganclosingtheshop,thinkingithighlyunlikelyshe’dgetanycustomers.

Whenfinishedupfront,Jordanwentintothebackroomtoturnoffthesoundsystem.Asalwaysat

closing, the store felt eerily quiet and empty without the eclectic mix of Billie Holiday, The Shins,
NorahJones,andMobyshe’dputtogetherforthisweek’ssoundtrack.Shegrabbedhersnowboots
frombehindthedoor,andhadjustsatdownatherdesktoreplacethethree-inch-heelblackleather
bootsshewore,whenthechimeonthefrontdoorrang.

Acustomer.Surprising.

Jordanstoodupandsteppedoutofthebackroom,thinkingsomebodyhadtobeawfullydesperate

tocomeoutforwineinthisweather.“You’reinluck.Iwasjustabouttocloseforthe...”

Herwordstrailedoffasshestoppedatthesightofthetwomenstandingnearthefrontofthestore.

Forsomereason,shefelttinglesatthebackofherneck.Perhapsithadsomethingtodowiththeman
closertothedoor—hedidn’tlooklikehertypicalcustomer.

Hehadchestnutbrownhair,andscruffalonghisjawthatgavehimadark,bad-boylook.Rightoff

thebat,somethingabouthisdemeanor,thewayhecommandedone’sattention,madeherthinkhewas
amanusedtogettinghisway.Hewastall,andworeablackwoolcoatoverwhatappearedtobea
well-builtphysique.Hewasgood-looking,nodoubt,butunlikeCalKittredge,heseemedrather...
rough.Unpolished.Exceptforhiseyes.Greenasemeralds,theystoodoutbrilliantlyagainsthisdark
hairandfiveo’clockshadowashewatchedherintently.

Hetookastepforward.

Shetookastepback.

Aslightgrinplayedattheedgesofhislips,asifhefoundthisamusing.

Shewonderedhowfastshecouldmakeittotheemergencypanicbuttonunderneaththebar.

Theshorterman,theonewearingglassesandacamel-coloredtrenchcoat,clearedhisthroat.“Are

youJordanRhodes?”

Shedebatedwhethertoanswerthis.Buttheblondmanseemedsaferthanthetall,darkone.“Iam.”

Theblondmanpulledabadgeoutofhisjacket.“I’mAgentSethHuxley,thisisAgentNickMcCall.

We’rewiththeFederalBureauofInvestigation.”

This caught her off guard. “The FBI?” The last time she’d seen anyone from the FBI had been at

Kyle’sarraignment.

“We’d like to discuss a matter concerning your brother,” the blond man said. He seemed very

seriousandslightlytenseaboutwhateveritwasheneededtotellher.

Jordan’sstomachtwistedinaknot.Sheforcedherselfnottopanic.Yet.

“Has he been hurt?” she asked. In the four months he’d been in prison, there already had been

several altercations. Apparently, some of the other inmates at Metropolitan Correctional Center
figuredamillionairecomputergeekwouldbeaneasymark.

Kyle,beingKyle,assuredherhecouldholdhisownwheneverJordanaskedaboutthefightsduring

one of her visits. But every day since he’d begun serving his sentence, she’d worried about the
momentwhenshegotaphonecallsayinghe’dbeenwrong.AndiftheFBIhadcometoherstoreon
thenightofablizzard,whatevertheyhadtotellhercouldn’tbegood.

The dark-haired man spoke for the first time. His voice was low, yet smoother than Jordan had

expectedgivenhisruggedappearance.

“Yourbrotherisfine.Asfarasweknow,anyway.”

That was an odd thing to say. “As far as you know? You make it sound like he’s missing or

something.” Jordan paused, then folded her arms across her chest. Oh . . . no. “Don’t tell me he’s
escaped.”

Kylewouldn’t be sostupid. Well, okay,once he’d been thatstupid, actions thathad landed him in

prisoninthefirstplace,buthewouldn’tbethatstupidagain.Thatwaswhyhe’dpledguilty,afterall,
insteadofgoingtotrial.He’dwantedtoownuptohismistakesandaccepttheconsequences.

Sheknewherbrotherbetterthananyone.True,hewasagenius,andassumingtherewasacomputer

anywherewithinreachoftheinmates,hecouldprobablyuploadsomecodeorvirusorwhateverthat
wouldspringopenthecelldoorsandsimultaneouslyreleasealltheprisonersinamadstampede.But
Kylewouldn’tdothat.Shehoped.

“Escaped?Istheresomethingyou’dliketoshareaboutyourbrother,Ms.Rhodes?”AgentMcCall

askedinanamused,perhapsmocking,tone.

Somethingabouthimrubbedherthewrongway.Shefeltasthoughshewasfacingoffagainstan

opponent holding a royal flush in a game of poker she didn’t realize she’d been playing. And she
wasn’tinthemoodtoplaygameswiththeFBIrightthen.Orever.They’dchargedherbrothertothe
fullestextentofthelaw,lockedhimupatMCCandtreatedhimlikeamenacetosocietyforwhat,in
Jordan’sadmittedlybiasedopinion,wassimplyareallybadmistake.(Bysomeonewithnocriminal
record,shenoted.)Itwasn’tlikeKylehadkilledanyone,forheaven’ssake,he’djustcausedabitof
panicandmayhem.Foraboutfiftymillionpeople.

“Yousaidthisisaboutmybrother.HowcanIhelpyou,AgentMcCall?”sheaskedcoolly.

Hesteppedfartherintothestoreandleanedagainstthebar,seemingtomakehimselfrightathome.

“Unfortunately,I’mnotatlibertytofillyouinonthedetailshere.AgentHuxleyandIwouldpreferto
continuethisconversationinprivate.AttheFBIoffice.”

AndshewouldprefertosaynothingatalltotheFBI,iftheyweren’tdanglingthisbitaboutKyle

over her head. She gestured to the empty wine shop. “I’m sure whatever it is you have to say, the
chardonnayswillkeepitconfidential.”

“Inevertrustachardonnay.”

“AndIdon’ttrusttheFBI.”

Thewordshungintheairbetweenthem.Astandstill.AgentHuxleyintervened.“Iunderstandyour

hesitancy, Ms. Rhodes, but as Agent McCall indicated, this is a confidential matter. We have a car
waitingoutfrontandwouldverymuchappreciateitifyoucamewithustotheFBIoffice.We’dbe
happytoexplaineverythingthere.”

Sheconsideredthis.AgentHuxleyatleastseemedtobesomewhatmoreamiablethanhispartner.

“Fine.I’llcallmylawyerandhavehimmeetusthere.”

AgentMcCallshookhisheadfirmly.“Nolawyers,Ms.Rhodes.Justyou.”

Jordan kept her face impassive, but inwardly her frustration increased. Aside from her general

dislikeoftheFBIbecauseofthewaythey’dtreatedherbrother,therewasanelementofpridehere.
They had come into her store, and this Nick McCall person seemed to think she should jump just
becausehesaidto.

So instead, she held her ground. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Agent McCall. You

soughtmeoutinthemiddleofablizzard,whichmeansyouwantsomethingfromme.Withoutgiving
memore,you’renotgoingtogetit.”

He appeared to consider his options. Jordan got the distinct impression that one of those options

involved throwing her over his shoulder and hauling her ass right out of the store. He seemed the
type.

Instead,hepushedawayfromthebarandsteppedclosertoher,thencloseragain.Hepeereddown

ather,hisbrilliantgreen-eyedgazeunwavering.“Howwouldyouliketoseeyourbrotherreleased
fromprison,Ms.Rhodes?”

Stunned by the offer, Jordan searched his eyes cautiously. She looked for any signs of deceit or

trickery,althoughshesuspectedshewouldn’tseeanythinginNickMcCall’seyesthathedidn’twant
herto.

Aleapoffaith.Shedebatedwhethertobelievehim.

“I’llgrabmycoat.”