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  Tony had asked them not to tell the man who he was, just a visitor. He didn’t have many, they said, family and his attorney mostly. And as usual, the Redstone name got him what he wanted.

  Tony saw the man’s forehead crease when he saw him. Trying to figure out who he was, Tony guessed. Saw the puzzlement change to a frown, and guessed the man’s thought process had gone from wondering who this was to realizing what he looked like. He’d chosen his clothes carefully for this visit, forgoing his usual for the kind of street attire Rico had died in last night. And he saw Santerelli realize it, saw the sudden wariness in his demeanor as he sat across the outdoor picnic table from him.

  “Do I know you?”

  The attitude fit, too. Imperious, superior, just like the head of some medium-wanting-to-be-big company speaking to someone he didn’t think could be any help to him. Tony couldn’t help but contrast this man with Josh, who treated everyone with the same respect he demanded. The respect that kept Redstone at the top of any list of best places to work, the respect that meant Josh had never had to face a group of disgruntled employees.

  “You don’t,” Tony finally answered when Santerelli began to look uncomfortable. “But I know you. My brothers on the street, they know you.”

  He wasn’t sure Santerelli was smart enough to pick up the hint, but the way he pulled back slightly told Tony he must have. But he pretended ignorance anyway.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you do.”

  “I have no idea. What is it you want?”

  The still imperious tone told Tony he wasn’t scared. Yet.

  “The job got trickier. You’re not paying enough.”

  Santerelli’s frown deepened. “Trickier?”

  And there it was, Tony thought. Of all the things Santerelli could have said, that was the one that convinced Tony he was on the right track. Not “What job?” or “Paying?” as anyone truly ignorant would have said.

  “It’s going to cost your little cabal more.”

  “We already—” He stopped, as if realizing what he was about to admit.

  “Paid? Yes. But not enough.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said again.

  Tony had had enough of the silly game. “It might be wiser if you did.”

  The frown again. “Wiser?”

  Tony stood up. Heightwise he towered over the shorter man, and the contrast was even greater with Santerelli seated. He put his palms flat on the table and leaned in, letting every bit of the menace he was feeling toward this man show in his body language, his face, and his voice. The man reacted before he even spoke, quailing slightly, pulling back.

  “Stealing from Redstone was one thing,” Tony said icily. “Trying to hurt one of the family, and a close personal friend of Josh Redstone himself, that’s something else.”

  “Redstone?”

  The gulped exclamation said it all, and Tony finally saw what he’d wanted to see—fear.

  “What do you have to do with Redstone?”

  “I,” Tony said, leaning in, “am the man who will decide if you simply continue to serve your time here in relative peace, forgotten as you deserve, or if the entire force of Redstone comes down on you.”

  Santerelli squirmed on the seat. Tony knew in that instant the man would break.

  “If you think he can’t make your life a living hell even in here, you’re wrong.”

  He paused, then leaned in even farther, until he was barely inches from Santerelli’s face, sensing the man was on the edge. He had no qualms about what he was going to say next, not after this man had conspired to hurt or kill a woman he didn’t even know.

  His woman.

  Lilith.

  Because she was his woman, even if he would never in his life have any more than he’d had last night.

  “You have a wife, Santerelli. A son.”

  The man paled. He squeaked. He literally squeaked, before managing to get any words out. “You…wouldn’t.”

  “Josh would never countenance hurting them. It’s not his way. And it would put him on your level, hurting an innocent to get to someone else.”

  Santerelli took a breath, clearly relieved. The man wasn’t just a coward, Tony thought, he was a fool. But it was the cowardice that was going to get him what he wanted right now.

  “Josh wouldn’t,” he said ominously. “But I run on different rules.”

  Panic slammed into the man, visibly. Santerelli looked around wildly, as if for help.

  “No help here. If you want to wake up from this nightmare, there’s only one way to do it. Tell me everything.”

  Santerelli broke.

  Chapter 23

  Lilith looked at her reflection in the mirror. Again. She wasn’t one for overindulgence in checking her own appearance, but this morning she seemed driven to it. As if what she’d done must have forever imprinted itself on her face.

  But there was no sign, except for a new weariness in her eyes, that she was forever changed. The reflection that looked back at her was the same; younger than she was on the calendar, and much younger than she felt just now. She had always been passingly grateful that she didn’t look her age; now she wasn’t sure it was a blessing. If she did, she might not be in this painful place now.

  “You knew,” she whispered to herself. “You knew you shouldn’t, and you did it anyway.”

  She made herself turn away and start to dress. She’d already spent enough time hiding in her bathroom, and too much just standing there doing nothing. Even the simple decision to take a shower had seemed too difficult; did she want to wash away any trace of Tony Alvera, or savor the scent of him on her skin because that was all she had left?

  She wondered what had happened to her usual calm, decisive self, wondered if she had been burned away last night, replaced by that eager, hungry woman she didn’t even recognize.

  Hungry for a man who, in his way, was as high-handed as Daniel had been?

  She’d assumed the biggest barrier between them was her age, or his own hangup about the differences between their worlds. She’d never thought it would be this. Although she knew perfectly well that Tony’s actions stemmed from genuine concern, and not Daniel’s bone-deep need for total control, she wasn’t sure how much it mattered if the end result was the same.

  “Ms. Mercer? Are you all right?”

  Taylor’s voice came through the closed door. She supposed the young woman thought she’d slipped and fallen in the shower, she’d been in here so long.

  “I’m fine, Taylor. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  She moved hurriedly then, dressing in faded, comfortably soft jeans and a Redstone shirt that made her feel somehow stronger.

  “There’s a cinnamon bagel left,” Taylor said as she came into the kitchen for the second time; the first time she’d lasted only long enough to determine Tony was really gone before retreating to the bathroom, mumbling about taking a shower.

  “Thank you,” Lilith said. It sounded as perfunctory as it was, and she added with more life, “I like cinnamon bagels.”

  “I remembered,” Taylor said, and Lilith recalled then that she had mentioned it when they discovered their mutual butterscotch addiction.

  She warmed and ate the bagel, then went into her Saturday routine, general tidying up, sorting mail that had accumulated, cleaning the kitchen. Normally she would have stripped the bed by now and tossed the sheets into the laundry, but she hadn’t. Somehow making that decision was even harder than the decision to take a shower.

  She nearly laughed aloud at herself, and the only thing that stopped her was the realization that explaining it to Taylor would be impossible.

  “So, how long have you and Tony been together?”

  Lilith whirled, nearly dropping the plate she’d been about to put into the dishwasher. Lord, did it show after all? Was it somehow obvious that she’d spent the night having passionate, wild sex with a passionate, wild man she had no b
usiness being with?

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked when she could speak.

  Taylor blushed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. It’s none of my business.”

  Lilith steadied herself. She didn’t want to ask, had to ask. “What makes you think we’re ‘together’ at all?”

  The younger woman blinked. “Uh…superhot chemistry?” It was Lilith’s turn to blink. Taylor shrugged then, before adding, “I mean, seriously, you two, like…sizzle. So I assumed…”

  Seized by an urge she tried and failed to combat, Lilith took advantage of likely the most unbiased opinion she could get on the matter. “Don’t you think we’d be a bit of an…odd couple?”

  Taylor gave her a sideways look. “I don’t know either of you that well.”

  “I meant…appearancewise.” At Taylor’s wary look, she added, “It’s all right. I really want to know.”

  “Odd?” Taylor repeated, as if considering the word. “No. Dramatic, yes. Head turning. Opposites attract and all, I guess. I mean, he’s dark and you’re so fair, he’s exotic, you’re classic. Both beautiful, but different.” She smiled then. “I think you look amazing together.”

  And there you have it, Lilith thought. Not a word about what bothered either of them the most.

  With the feeling there was a lesson there, Lilith turned back to her chores.

  And wondered why Taylor’s observations didn’t make anything seem any easier.

  “So Chilton and Santerelli hatched this together?”

  Tony looked away from his hands, where the paler spots along the knuckles showed where he’d once worn the badge of the ES 13s. He raised his gaze to Draven, who was leaning on the edge of his desk at the airport hangar office of Redstone Security. “Yes.”

  “This was their idea of taking revenge on Redstone? Hurting or killing someone who had nothing to do with their downfall?”

  “Apparently so.” Tony grimaced; the knowledge that Lilith had been in genuine danger still made him queasy. Afraid of what he might betray to the too perceptive Draven, he added quickly, “But then, if they were smart, they would never have tried to spy on Redstone to begin with.”

  “Truer words never spoken,” Draven said. “Well, at least it’s over now. Our end, anyway, the officials can handle it from here. Good job, Tony. I’ll let Josh know.”

  “Yes.”

  It’s over. Truer words never spoken.

  Funny how just a change in sentence order spoke an even more definite truth.

  Because it was over. It had to be. He looked again at the discoloration on his hands, thought of the one he couldn’t see, at the back of his neck.

  If he’d had half the class Lilith had, he would have stopped last night. He would have stopped the moment he’d glanced down and seen these hands on her creamy, delicate skin. But he’d been wild with need, and then she’d touched him back, as if she thought his darker, scarred skin was as beautiful as her own, and he’d been lost.

  Badges of honor, she’d called those marks, the faint discolorations and the actual scars. Badges of courage, and determination.

  Maybe. But that didn’t move him into her world. Nothing could do that. You had to be born into it.

  “What’s brewing?” he said suddenly. “There must be something on your plate by now.”

  “Where?” Draven asked, looking as startled as he was capable of looking.

  “Anywhere.” Draven frowned. Tony dug in. “I want to work. Send me somewhere. The farther away the better.”

  “You just got back from Caracas, then Beck’s case and before that you spent months in the jungle in Brazil. Then you jumped right into this. Don’t you want a break, or at least to stay home for a while?”

  Home. Right. He’d found home last night, in Lilith’s arms. Problem was, it wasn’t his home. And if he tried to make it home, he’d just end up making her angry all over again, eventually.

  What I can’t tolerate is someone making the same mistake over and over again….

  That, he thought bitterly, would be me. “No. There must be something, somewhere. Didn’t you mention Australia a while back?”

  “Yes, but that’s all done except for the mop-up.”

  “Fine. Let me do the mop-up.”

  “Australia?”

  “Perfect,” Tony said, thinking that the entire planet between him and Lilith might just be enough.

  “Why don’t you just take a vacation?” Draven suggested dryly.

  “I’d rather work. But either way, I want out of here.”

  Back in his apartment overlooking the harbor full of expensive boats—a place he’d consciously chosen so that every day he would remember how far he’d come—he began to toss things into his battered suitcase; the trip to Austria and that mess in the village near the Redstone ski resort in Innsbruck four years ago had been hard on the thing.

  It had been hard on him, too; skiing and the cold had never been in his repertoire, and he’d rarely felt so out of place as he had there. His cover had been a visiting, wealthy playboy of unspecified Latin descent, and he’d played it to the hilt, the facade the only thing that let him function at an altitude intimidating in reality and in his mind.

  He was, he realized, thinking about such things to avoid thinking about what was in fact taking up most of his mind. The realization that he was running came as a bit of a shock. And from a woman. He who had never run from anything or anyone in his life, and had the scars to prove it, was running like a scared kid.

  But then, it was the scars, both physical and otherwise, that were the reason he was running. Because he couldn’t deny any longer that Lisa’s death had scarred him in ways he hadn’t even understood until Lilith.

  “Think about something else, damn it!”

  That he’d said it out loud, to an empty room, nearly made him groan. But he tried to follow his own order anyway.

  He should be feeling satisfied at the quick wrap-up to this case. Draven had been pleased, at least. The fact that he didn’t feel satisfied was just further proof that he’d gotten in way over his head. It was over—all of it—and the best thing he could do was get himself out of Lilith’s life and on with his own.

  Such as it would be, now that he’d had a taste—God, such a sweet, hot, incredible taste—of her.

  It’s over, he repeated as he tossed a pair of socks into the bag. As soon as Draven called to say that the flight was arranged, he’d be on his way, leaving the wheels of Redstone to grind Chilton up for him.

  And then there it was again, that niggling feeling that he’d missed something, that there was something that just didn’t feel right about the whole thing. It wasn’t that it had been too easy—cases actually were easy, sometimes—but something else, something he couldn’t quite bury.

  You just wanted it to be her ex-husband, he told himself sourly. Or worse, you’re just looking for any excuse to see her again.

  And neither would change anything. However good they’d been together—and the passion that had exploded had shocked even him—it was still impossible. She clearly knew that, it was him who was having the problem swallowing the inevitable.

  But he couldn’t seem to let it go.

  When he caught himself standing over the open suitcase with a shirt in his hand, uncertain how long he’d been there staring into space, everything that had happened in the last week tumbling through his mind, he swore under his breath.

  He tossed down the shirt and began to pace, needing the physical movement to try and get a grip. But it didn’t work, and before long, even knowing he was likely being seven kinds of an idiot, he was sitting at his notebook computer, logging on to the Redstone network and pulling up the report he’d filed just hours earlier.

  He read through it all again. He sat for a while, staring at a rushing, star field screen saver as if the answer was somehow there in that random pattern.

  Then he made two phone calls, one to Redstone’s in-house tech genius, Ryan Barton, who quickly found and e-mailed
him the software program he’d written at Draven’s request a few months ago; Tony had used it, but hadn’t yet installed it on his home computer.

  The second was to a woman he knew at the county sheriff’s office. She was his most reliable unofficial source, had been since the day she had laughingly told him he’d get a lot further with her if he turned off the automatic flirting device and simply asked.

  So next time, just ask. Don’t try to bully me.

  Lilith’s words echoed in his head. He had tried to bully her, since he couldn’t bring himself to try and charm her, not when he knew how superficial, how shallow those efforts were. Not when he knew how she despised the tactic, thanks to her ex-husband.

  “Is that what you wanted?”

  Tony yanked himself out of the reverie and read back the data she had given him.

  “Yes,” he said, “thanks.”

  “Just dates? That’s all you need?”

  “That’s all,” Tony said absently, hanging up without really saying goodbye, his eyes scanning the numbers he’d scrawled on the notepad.

  He called up the newly installed program Ryan had sent him. He entered the dates he’d just gotten. Then he switched to his own report, took the dates and locations from there and entered those as well. There were a lot of them, so it took a while. Then he activated the program’s compare function and waited.

  Nothing. No match, no correlation that hadn’t already come to him and been checked out.

  For a moment he sat there, telling himself to give it up, that his instincts couldn’t be relied on when his heart kept interfering, making him want to look for something that wasn’t there. He got up and started pacing again, shaking his head at himself; he felt edgier than he could ever remember, since he’d left the streets.