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  He shook his head and hesitated, but popped the lock after a few seconds.

  She got in. “Hi.”

  “You could have called.” He was looking straight ahead.

  “You could have stayed in your hotel and gotten some rest.”

  He turned his head and his mahogany gaze locked with hers.

  “What are you doing here, Anita?”

  The air seemed to heat and thicken in the car all of a sudden. It took effort to fill her lungs.

  What were they doing there? She’d come to talk about work, hadn’t she?

  “I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about my family.”

  “Came up with anything new? Any clues? Even if you don’t think it’s relevant.”

  “I just can’t get over the shock of it all that any of them could be involved. It seems so unlikely. What if we’re wasting time going down the wrong road?”

  “What if we’re not?”

  “It’s stupid, but—” she hesitated “—sometimes I feel like I’d almost rather not know.”

  “Is that why you didn’t fight for yourself at your trial?”

  Her eyes went wide. “What are you talking about? I fought.”

  “Not like I would have. You held your lawyer back.”

  Had she? She hesitated as she thought back.

  “I’m not saying you did it on purpose. But maybe your subconscious mind—Maybe you knew there was a good chance that whoever had framed you was close to you and didn’t want to find out anything bad about your family.”

  “My family is not bad. You don’t know them.” She loved them all.

  “I know. All I’m saying is that you do need to fight for yourself. Whoever is out there wants to kill you. This game is dead serious. Look, I know it’s not easy to face that someone you love, someone you believe in, might have betrayed you. But trust me, if you don’t face it, the consequences can be pretty nasty. Not something you want.”

  He sounded like he was talking from experience.

  “Anything like that happen to you?” she asked, partially because she was curious, partially because the thought of someone in her family going against her was too painful.

  He didn’t respond.

  “So who was it?”

  He shrugged. “A woman. I thought—Never mind.”

  “What happened?”

  “I didn’t take a suspect seriously. She put on the play and I bought it. Brought all my protective instincts right out. My partner died because I was stupid.” He looked stiff with regret and self-loathing.

  She put a hand on his, not being the type who could hold back when someone needed comfort or consoling. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. You wouldn’t believe how very sorry. So don’t make the same mistake. Keep your eyes open. Know who your enemy is.”

  They sat in silence for a while. One minute passed, then another. When it begin to feel awkward, she pulled her hand away.

  “Thank you for everything that you do for me,” she said to fill the silence. “I appreciate it. I do feel safer when you’re around.”

  He hesitated before he responded. “It’s my job.”

  The light of the streetlight illuminated his face. He was so handsome and strong and noble it made her heart ache.

  He must have read some of her thoughts because he said, “I can’t. I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”

  “I’m not a suspect you’re investigating.”

  The quick flash of heat in his gaze took her breath away. “I’m here to get the job done.”

  He didn’t look like work was the topmost thing on his mind. Fire swirled in his eyes.

  “You should go up and get some sleep.” His voice was gruff. He turned away, watching the street through the windshield.

  That near-moment the night before flashed into her eyes. “Um. Last night when you—Was that—”

  “No.” He wouldn’t look at her.

  “Okay.”

  “You should probably go back up.”

  “Right.” She didn’t move.

  He turned to her with a pained expression.

  “You know you are a very beautiful woman.”

  Was Brant as attracted to her as she was to him? The thought hit her with the capricious subtlety of a cement truck.

  He seemed frustrated by her lack of response. “This is—It’s not how this works.”

  “This what?” She found her voice at last.

  “We are on a dangerous mission. We need to focus one-hundred percent on the case and then-some.”

  “Right.” Getting nervous, she licked her bottom lip.

  His gaze turned darker. “You’re not helping.”

  He did want her! The thought sang through her veins and sent her heart drumming. She couldn’t stop the smile that split her lips.

  “Don’t look so smug.” He turned away from her again.

  “I’m not.”

  “Right.”

  “So what do you want me to look like, exactly?” she challenged him.

  He turned back to her and said something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch. Sounded like, “To hell with oatmeal raisin.” Obviously, she’d heard it wrong.

  And then he leaned right over and kissed her.

  The kiss was everything she had expected it to be and more, not that she had spent much time thinking about it. Okay, maybe some. The wave of pure heat and blinding passion and uncompromising need stole the breath from her lungs.

  Her brain was rapidly becoming impaired, as well. Her last thought was that she wasn’t going to walk away unscathed from this.

  THEY WERE KISSING.

  She watched from the backseat of her van.

  Whore.

  It made her sick how Anita worked her poison on the man. Anita Caballo had always known how to make men do what she wanted. She played with them, the same way she had played with William. What had the she done to him now?

  It’d been days since he’d checked in and no matter how hard she tried, he could not be reached.

  Where was he?

  Anita lived.

  Which meant William might very well be dead.

  And the bitch could sit in that car with her man and do her whoring, rubbing it in her face.

  She lifted her gun and aimed, drew a slow breath, held it. A full second passed before she lowered the gun again.

  It was too dark, they were too far away, the bullet would have to go through two windshields. She didn’t want to take a chance on making a mistake. This was too important. She wasn’t just doing this for herself. She was doing this for William.

  Chapter Eight

  Anita was wading through the numbered accounts Cavanaugh had in Switzerland. How on earth had Carly gotten to these? The kid was a genius. She glanced up at the sound of the office door opening and felt a pang of disappointment when, instead of Brant, she saw Nick walking in.

  He was tall and muscular, looking like the commando guy that he was—cute and sexy, to boot. He didn’t interest her whatsoever. Diosmio, she had it bad for Brant.

  “Missed me?” He grinned as he looked around.

  Gina was coming out of her office. “Like we miss lockdown.”

  “Aww.” Nick put a hand to his heart and flashed a heat wave of a grin. “You make me feel all soft and fuzzy.”

  “There are pills that can help with that now,” Gina said dryly, but she had a half-smile on her face.

  Anita sent the screen she was working with to the printer then got up and walked out of her office. “Hi.”

  “What’s up?” Sam was asking as Nick dropped his duffel bag by the front desk. She still sounded nasal, but looked a lot better.

  Carly was coming out of her den, too. “How was your trip? Good to have you back.”

  He smiled at her. “It’s good to be back. Coffee?” He started toward the kitchen.

  “Probably sludge at this stage. I’ll make a fresh pot,” Sam volunteered.

  Five people in the small kitc
henette filled it to the brim, but nobody seemed to mind.

  “Brant sleeping on the job, or what?” He went for a mug.

  Hopefully Brant was sleeping, Anita thought. He needed the rest after having spent the whole night in front of her apartment, guarding her. He drove her to work in the morning and walked her up before he left. Their conversation had been limited to polite conversation about traffic and the weather. “He was here earlier. He’s working out of his hotel room.”

  The coffee machine began to spit its black brew, filling the air with a mouthwatering aroma.

  “So what do you have on Xiau Lin?” Gina asked.

  “My bet is he’s not linked to Tsernyakov. I’d say they’re rivals to a degree. I found some conflicting operations. Tsernyakov would never allow that.”

  “So he’s off the list?” Carly asked.

  Nick nodded. “I checked into Alexeev, too, on the way back. He was definitely heavily involved with Tsernyakov on the island—probably Tsernyakov’s number-one guy—but I found out that he’s gone for good. Disappeared.”

  “Dead gone?” Carly put sugar and milk on the table. “It takes forty-two coffee beans to make an espresso.”

  Nobody batted an eyelash. They were used to her habit of spouting old trivia.

  “Either that or he was abducted by aliens. Nobody knows anything about him. Somebody took over the majority of his businesses, can’t get an ID on the new guy, but orders are coming down the food chain. And get this, Alexeev’s on-the-side money, blackmail and bribes and whatnot—good chunks of cash Tsernyakov probably didn’t know about—they’re still coming in, piling up. His old assistant is hoarding it all. Doesn’t dare to report it to the new guy, in case Alexeev shows up. But if he doesn’t show up and the secret stash comes to light, the new boss will pop him for it. Guy’s a mess.”

  Coffee was done. Nick picked up the pot and poured for everyone.

  “So we need to figure out who the new man in charge is,” Carly said.

  “Right. And I’ll need your help with that.” He picked up his cup. “I have a couple of ideas on where to look.”

  After the two of them had gone off to Carly’s office, Anita found herself lingering in the kitchenette with Gina and Sam. “It’s not good, is it?”

  Gina shook her head. “We had a handful of tenuous leads. Emphasis on tenuous. We are down to two: Cavanaugh and Marquez.”

  “They’re both dirty.” Anita had plenty of financial records to prove that.

  “But are they connected to Tsernyakov?”

  Gina was right. That was the crux of the matter.

  “They are some of the biggest players on the island. We know Tsernyakov has connections here. A man as big as he is wouldn’t be doing business with small-timers,” Sam said.

  Gina was watching Carly and Nick working in Carly’s office. She had an amused expression on her face, so Anita followed her gaze.

  “So what? You think they’re doing it?” Sam caught on.

  What? Anita looked closer. Okay, so maybe Nick was standing a little too close, bending a little too low.

  “Like rabbits.” Gina grinned and shook her head.

  “None of our business.” Anita came to Carly’s defense. She was certainly not one to cast a stone. Not after fogging up the windshield with Brant last night. God, she was so not going to think about that right now.

  Gina nodded. “More power to them.”

  “How is your fiancé?” Sam teased her.

  “We spend time together. Lots of good quiet times. He’s the strong silent type,” Gina said.

  “Always lets you have the last word?” Anita grinned.

  “Damn right.”

  Gina’s “fiancé” was pinned to the wall by her computer—a job done by Sam, after Gina said she believed in love at first sight and pointed to the cover of a Chinese business magazine and said of the man who looked like an English aristocrat, “That’s the man I’m going to marry.”

  “Know who he is yet?” Sam asked.

  “Haven’t had a chance to brush up on my Chinese.” Gina shrugged.

  “Not knowing the groom’s name must put an inconvenient hold on ordering the wedding invitations,” Anita put in.

  “Oh, hell, no.” Gina snorted. “Can you see me prancing around in a hooped gown?”

  Anita squinted. No. She couldn’t.

  “We’re eloping.”

  “Glad to hear the plans are all set,” Sam said stone-faced. “Little disappointed about not being a bridesmaid. Understandable, though. Bride not wanting to be outshined on her big day. Carly and I were runners-up to Beach Beauty and all that.”

  “Bite me,” Gina said, picked up her mug and walked out of the kitchen.

  They followed her after a moment.

  “Good morning, ladies.” The mailman was coming in. Garry, a young blond guy, was cute as a button, swishing his behind with more panache than Angelina Jolie.

  “Morning. Got anything good?” Sam walked toward him and took the handful of flyers and letters.

  “Yeah, but they don’t let me share it with postal customers,” he told her with a wink. “Regulations are a bitch.”

  “Live dangerously.”

  He gave an overexaggerated shiver. “I used to, sweetling. Residential delivery. Ugh. You should have seen the nasty dogs. Nice businessmen in mmm, mmm suits. Now, that’s better.” His eyes caught Nick in Carly’s office and went wide. “Or cargo pants. Works for me,” he said.

  “I don’t think he swings that way.” Sam followed his gaze.

  He sighed. “Life is a friggin’ heartbreak a day. Still, we must look on the bright side. New lawyer’s office coming in on floor ten. Major big thing. All men.”

  “Good luck,” Sam said.

  He cast one last glance at Nick before leaving.

  “Anything for me?” Anita asked, shaking her head, but smiling.

  Sam was flipping through the envelopes. “The usual. Bills and junk mail. No. Wait. This looks promising.” She held out a fancy envelope with a gold-foil logo in the top left corner—Lambert Estates.

  Anita opened it and pulled out an engraved invitation in mauve. “They’re having an impromptu party Saturday night to celebrate their five-hundredth client. The Cayman Paradise Hotel Resort signed them on for a total rebuild. The party will be on the hotel’s private beach and will end with a charity event to benefit dolphin rescue.”

  “What kind of charity event?” Sam asked.

  “Maybe you’ll luck out and it’ll be a bachelor auction,” Gina told her.

  “Maybe we’ll luck out and it’ll be an annoying-ex-cop auction. Do you think they’d accept another one this close to the date?” Sam retorted.

  Anita turned the paper over and played along. “The invite doesn’t say.”

  Gina ignored them, looking thoughtful. “Probably everyone who’s anyone will be there. We should be able to make some good connections. Maybe one of our remaining suspects will show and we get a chance to cozy up to him.”

  Right. They had to figure which one was Tsernyakov’s connection on the island.

  Sam pointed to the last gold-lettered line. “They’re promising an explosive ending.”

  “Oh, I like fireworks,” Anita said.

  SHE COULD SEE THEM TALK. She had picked the hotel for that specific purpose, so that she could keep an eye on Anita during the day. If she was like she’d been before, she would spend most of her time at work.

  Searching Anita’s apartment had netted no clues on the whereabouts of William. She was beginning to fear the worst.

  She wanted answers and she wanted satisfaction. And, most of all, she wanted to make sure that her secret died with the bitch.

  ANITA SET THE PHONE DOWN with a grin.

  “Good news?” Brant stood in her doorway.

  “Marquez is coming over this afternoon. We had an appointment for next week. I was supposed to go to him, but he just called me to let me know that he’ll be in the neighborhood for a business meetin
g this afternoon and if I can bring up our meeting he’d be glad to stop in.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Except that we lose the chance to plant some bugs in his office.”

  “But we gain the fact that we can all check him out, get some impressions. I’ll be here as another prospective client, talking with Gina.”

  “Do you want to meet him?”

  He hesitated. “No,” he said after a while. “I don’t want to risk personal contact. It’s your mission. I just want to take the measure of the man.”

  “Cavanaugh is coming back tonight.” Carly popped her head in the office. “Flight plan was just filed.”

  “Then he might be coming to the party Saturday.” Relief filled Anita.

  “Pretty good chance,” Brant said. “Seems like the type of guy who likes to be seen around. There’ll be media for the charity angle.”

  “If he is there, we’ll make contact,” Gina said.

  “I’m going to take off for a while, check into a couple things. Everyone’s okay here?” he asked.

  “Young as we seem, we really don’t need a babysitter,” Gina quipped.

  Brant drew up an eyebrow. “Didn’t mean to imply that you do. Call me if you need me.”

  And it hit Anita as he walked away that she did need him—in so many ways that it was getting to be scary. It wasn’t an easy admission to make.

  “TO BE HONEST, Señorita Caballo, my main priority is to scale back. So I am looking for help with that instead of establishing an office. I already have offices and employees, but it’s becoming all too big. I’m downsizing.”

  “May I ask why you are cutting back, Señor Marquez?”

  “I’m thinking about retirement.”

  “You’re way too young to retire.”

  He smiled. “That might be true, but my even younger wife is going to gift me with twin boys a few months from now. I have decided to spend more time with them than I did with the children from my first marriage.” He took a long breath. “The business has been good to me, I’ve been lucky not to—I’ve been lucky.” He smiled again.

  Lucky he hadn’t gotten caught, Anita finished the sentence for him silently. She was familiar with his financial records, courtesy of Carly. There were enough illegitimate sources of income to put a smile on any D.A.’s face.