“Regrets?”

She slapped him lightly with her shirt. “Not hardly.”

“Your stitches -”

“Intact. All intact. You didn’t hurt me, Andrew.” She slipped on her shirt, not bothering with the bra, and smiled at him. “I was never in pain.”

He believed her. “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time.”

She raised her eyebrows. “So when we were having coffee that night in the rain, you were thinking -”

“Not then.”

“You are such a bad liar.”

He pulled himself together, then kissed her – softly this time, romantically. “Now,” he said, smiling, “we have unfinished business.”

She let out a breath. “I think we just might.”

On his way home, Rook drove too fast and was so agitated he almost missed his own damn driveway.

His nephew was reading a gaming magazine and listening to his iPod at the kitchen table. Rook pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. “How can you read and listen to music at the same time?”

“What?”

“How…” He sighed. “Take the damn headphones off and you’ll be able to hear me.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Brian grinned, removing the earbuds and hitting the pause button on his iPod. “Bad day?”

“It had its moments. What about you?”

“Just hanging out here. I ran the dishwasher and picked up my room.” He nodded toward the microwave. “I’ve got leftovers heating up.”

Rook decided not to push him about his future plans. Brian’s father could tackle that problem. “What leftovers?”

“I don’t know. I dumped a bunch of stuff I found in the fridge into the microwave. There’s enough for two, if you want.”

In a brief flash, Rook saw his nephew’s loneliness and uncertainty. His friends from high school were off to college or had jobs, and Brian was in Arlington, eating leftovers with his uncle.

Rook suddenly didn’t feel that great about his own life, either. He’d let his emotions get away from him with Mac, and he didn’t know what the hell came next. He was worried about her – but he was worried about himself, too, because tonight proved he had no self-control at all, not with her. Spotting her with Bernadette Peacham last week and seeing a potential conflict between his professional and personal lives, he’d thought he’d put on the brakes in his usual efficient, objective manner.

But he hadn’t. He was in a free fall.

He got to his feet and took a pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator. At least it was fresh. If it’d been stale, he’d have felt damn pathetic.

When he filled two glasses with tea and turned back to the table, Brian had already stuck his earbuds in place and tuned into his music again.

Eighteen

Jesse entered the small campus auditorium just as a panel discussion on current issues in legal ethics – he liked that – let out. Four middle-aged men rose from chairs at a cheap table. Calvin Benton was on the left end, facing the audience of about fifty law students and professors. He shook hands with his fellow panelists, the polite applause fading quickly as people started filing out.

Despite the intense police search for him in New Hampshire, Jesse had done nothing to conceal his identity. Beardless, clean, dressed in expensive clothes, out of context, he doubted even Mackenzie Stewart would recognize him, at least not from a quick glance. Up close, the way she’d been on Friday, was another matter. He could still see her now, in her bright-colored swimsuit, water dripping down her face as she’d tried to figure out what had caused the noise she’d heard.

Stop, he told himself, pushing the image from his mind. He stiffened, shielding himself against any further intrusions of the redheaded marshal. She’d captivated him, but Deputy Stewart would love to put him behind bars, a fact that no amount of wishful thinking on his part could change.

He walked down the center aisle and crossed in front of the stage to a side entrance. Cal, visibly pale, reluctantly joined him.

“You’ve got nerve.” Benton ’s voice was a low hiss, and he glanced behind him, as if making sure no one could see them together. “What are you doing here?”

Jesse shrugged, enjoying Cal ’s discomfort. “Sorry I missed the discussion. All finished now? No book signing?”

“I don’t have a book.”

“Your fellow panelists do.”

“We’re not here to sell books.” Cal ’s biting sarcasm and unrelenting arrogance were, Jesse figured, a fairly transparent attempt to conceal his fear. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Caught you by surprise, did I? I just want five minutes of your time. You and I have unfinished business.”

Another panel member squeezed past them, saying good-night and complimenting Cal on his portion of the talk. Cal managed to return the compliment, but when the other man was out of earshot, he growled to Jesse, “Not here.”

Amused by his discomfort, Jesse walked down the corridor to a corner and stood in front of a window overlooking a courtyard, where students, divided into small knots, ran through the rain. “Decent crowd for a hot summer night,” Jesse said mildly. “They’re all summer students?”

“Not all – most. They’re participating in a special six-week program. As if you give a damn. Where’s Harris? I haven’t seen him in a week.”

“Missing him, are you?”

“He’s a coward. He’s probably gone into hiding until you and I have sorted things out ourselves. Unless you…” Cal narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps I should just call the police and let them find Harris.”

Jesse withdrew his cell phone from his pants pocket and held it out. “Go right ahead. I’ll wait.”

Cal took in a breath, held it, then exhaled with a huff. “Bastard. You’d better hope no one with a cell phone is taking a picture of us right now. A stranger coming up to me. Tempting.”

“You have to love Washington,” Jesse said. “Afraid you’re under surveillance?”

“By whom? I’ve done nothing.”

“You know Harris went to the feds.”

The last color drained from Cal ’s face. He cleared his throat and looked out the window evasively. “I don’t have any control over him. He’s as slimy as you are. I want to be rid of you both.”

“We make a nice trio, don’t we? Our mutual friend met with the FBI last week. With a Special Agent Andrew Rook.”

“If Harris gave the FBI anything, they’d be on us by now.”

“I heard the feds searched his house today.”

That got Cal ’s attention. “Harris’s house?”

“Apparently, they’re getting worried about him.”

“Fine,” Cal said, rallying. “If he got cold feet and took off, that buys us more time to conclude our arrangements. The feds can spin their wheels looking for him all they want. They have no cause to dip into my affairs. And they don’t even know you exist.”

Jesse pressed a fingertip to the window, as if trying to touch a raindrop.

Cal gulped in a quick breath. “Go to Mexico, Jesse. Don’t risk Harris ratting you out to the FBI – never mind what I have on you. I can’t put you in prison. They can. Get out of Washington.” He was on a roll now, almost arrogant again. “Once I’m confident you’re holding up your end of our deal, I’ll hold up mine. I’ll wire you the money. I’ll stay out of your life.”

“What about my identity, Cal? Can you wire me that?”

“Your ‘identity,’ Jesse, is my insurance policy that you don’t ever darken my door again.” Cal gave him a cold look. “Did you have anything to do with the attack on Mackenzie Stewart in New Hampshire?”

“What attack, Cal?”

His face reddened, anger mixing with the arrogance now. “The police say a deranged drifter knifed her and another woman, in two separate attacks.”

“Do I look like a deranged drifter?”

Cal ’s shoulders seemed to slump, as if he couldn’t maintain the arrogant-Washington-insider act another second, and he shook his head. “If Harris is playing games with the FBI, why don’t you and I just back off and leave each other alone? Call it a draw, Jesse. You have your leverage against me. I have mine against you -”