“I’m fighting for my life and you think I’m bored?”

“You brought your women to New Hampshire because you were bored with the status quo. Bored with yourself. You let your boredom turn into anger and recklessness. Why do you think you hooked up with me in the first place?” Jesse took another drink, then gestured at Cal with the water bottle. “Boredom.”

“No, Jesse. I hooked up with you because you and Harris threatened to expose me. I wish the hell I’d let you. You didn’t want money from me – you wanted access and information. You’ve been squeezing Harris for years, but the very weaknesses you exploited finally got the better of him. So you pressured him into getting you someone new.” Cal touched a fingertip to a cracked spot on the corner of his mouth that had turned bloody. “Me.”

Jesse shook his head. “You didn’t walk away, did you? And you know why?”

“Boredom?” Cal snorted. “I’m not bored, you son of a bitch. I’m scared. If you don’t kill me, the damn FBI will toss my ass in prison.”

“Have a little faith.” Jesse felt his smile become distant, nasty. “Lucky you didn’t try to make your own deal with the FBI.”

“Harris…” Cal turned pale, and the cockiness went out of his voice. “Jesse – what have you done to him?”

Jesse didn’t respond. Harris and Cal’s betrayal had set off something in him. But that wasn’t all. Being in Cold Ridge had tripped a switch deep inside him, reminding him of the first time he’d come to the White Mountains as an isolated, angry, frightened young man. He’d had to get control of the violence that raged inside him. He’d had to find a way to make it work for him.

And here he was again, taking risks, telling himself he had to be bold – that boldness had always worked for him.

He thought about Mackenzie Stewart and felt an urge to see her, talk to her, hear her voice. He pictured her blue eyes, her creamy skin, the spray of freckles across her nose. How could she have become a marshal?

“Never mind,” Cal said quietly. “I don’t need to know about Harris.”

Eventually, Harris had recognized Jesse’s capacity for violence, but not Cal. The dossier he and Harris had put together on their partner in crime didn’t include that aspect of Jesse’s life.

Even after spending a night tied up and gagged, Jesse thought, Cal Benton would find a way to believe he had the upper hand and was dealing with a man who, ultimately, would make a deal with him.

“You need to pull out,” Cal said. “Go back to Mexico and let me wire you your money. It’s too risky now to force me to do anything. You’ve got the FBI, the marshals and local and state police on your ass. Trust me to keep up my end of our bargain.”

“Your bargain. I never agreed to anything.”

“Come on, Jesse. It’s an easy million for you -”

“Not easy. I worked for that money. It’s mine.”

Cal gulped in a breath. “Things have changed. For both of us. We need to reassess our situation.”

“You’re arrogant, but you’re not as smart as you think you are. You like the action, Cal.” Jesse finished the last of his protein bar. “You’re like me in a lot of ways.”

“What you’re doing now will destroy both of us. Jesse, you’re a smart man. You’re good at what you do. Why risk everything?”

“My million’s here in New Hampshire, isn’t it, Cal?”

He didn’t respond. Squinting, he gazed out across the mountains, a cold breeze lifting the ends of his thin air.

“I was right to come up here last week.”

Cal looked at him, even paler now. “What?”

Jesse got up, wishing he’d had more sleep last night. Three hours would have to do. “On your feet, Cal. We’ve got some rough hiking to do before we get to the lake.”

“Jesse – was Harris right?”

“Am I the devil, you mean?”

“It was you who attacked Mackenzie.”

“Don’t be so taken aback, Cal. She fought hard. I underestimated her. In fact, if she hadn’t just come from the lake, she’d have had me.”

Cal didn’t seem to be breathing. “Then you are violent.”

Jesse smirked and said, “We’re all violent.”

Thirty

Rook listened to the water run in the shower as he put on coffee. What could be more normal on a summer Saturday morning? But nothing was normal. Not today. Mackenzie had slipped out of bed early and logged on to Brian’s computer to buy an e-ticket for a shuttle up to New Hampshire. T.J. was on the way. They had work to do. As of yesterday afternoon, J. Harris Mayer had become a priority.

Last night, Rook’s brothers and father had all described incidents where they’d faced similar intransigence, arrogance and manipulation on the part of a conflicted source, with a bad outcome of one kind or another. In his own case, the outcome was as bad as it could get. Harris was dead.

T.J. turned up with a bag of doughnuts. “I figured you could use a shot of sugar this morning.” As always, he looked as if he’d stepped out of an FBI recruiting ad. But he raised an eyebrow. “Mackenzie?”

“In the shower,” Rook said.

“Sure you know what you’re doing?”

“She’s heading to New Hampshire today to see Judge Peacham.”

T.J. pulled a glazed doughnut out of the bag. “She should leave the investigating to the rest of us and go read a book.” He sat at the table. “Maybe you should, too.”

“If you’d been attacked on the lake where you grew up, would you be reading a book?”

“I wouldn’t have been in a pink swimsuit when I was attacked, that’s for sure. I’m not criticizing. I’m just saying what I think.”

“Understood.” T.J. bit into his doughnut. Rook picked out a plain one. Too much sugar and he’d be bouncing off the walls. Mackenzie hadn’t invited him to fly to New Hampshire with her. He’d awakened before dawn and watched her sleep, realizing that a part of this woman he’d made love to was still up north. She’d lived in New Hampshire all her life. No matter how committed she thought she was to her new work, he could tell she wasn’t convinced yet it was where she belonged. It wasn’t just other people’s doubts. It was her own.

She entered the room, dressed in jeans, a summer jacket and a shoulder holster. Her wound had stood up to their gymnastics last night. Rook had tried to be careful, at least when his mind wasn’t totally elsewhere.

“Don’t you two look ready to climb tall mountains and slay dragons this morning,” Mackenzie said cheerfully, the ends of her hair still wet from her shower. “You don’t have much of a blow-dryer, Rook.” Her eyes lit up when she spotted the doughnut bag. “Ah. Doughnuts. You didn’t bring just two doughnuts, did you, T.J.?”

He grinned at her. “I’m a trained, experienced FBI agent. I knew you’d be here.”

She smiled, the freckles standing out against her cheeks. “Good thinking.” She plucked out another glazed doughnut. “My cab’s about to pull up. I’ll wait outside. Thanks for letting me leave my car here, Rook.”

“Not a problem.”

“See you tomorrow night. Let me know if there are any developments here.”

“We’ll tell you what we can,” T.J. said.

She obviously didn’t like that, but didn’t argue. “I’ll do the same.”

She picked up her backpack, which she’d dragged into the kitchen first thing, as if she’d wanted to avoid going back to the bedroom with T.J. there. But Rook wasn’t convinced he knew everything about how Mackenzie thought, what drove her. For answers, he suspected he needed to spend more time in New Hampshire, where she’d lived her entire life before packing up for the training academy.

He heard the cab arrive, then pull back into the street.

“You could you have stopped her,” T.J. said.

“Uh-huh. I have more guns. And you’d back me up.”

“No way. I’m staying out of whatever you two have going on. When I see sparks, I get out of the line of fire.” T.J. finished the last of his doughnut and rinsed off his fingers. “So when are you going up to New Hampshire?”