Steve felt his stomach drop. On the one hand, he didn’t know anything. On the other hand, he knew too much-and that was what the kid was telling him. “I’m not going to do that.”

“We know you’re not.” The kid stepped backward, motioning for Steve to get into the car. “Have a seat.”

Not a chance. He stuck his head in the open door, Lubec-the SS guard-behind the wheel. “The Nazi Youth here says you want to talk to me. Talk. I’m not getting in here with you. If you try to shove my ass in, I’ll scream bloody murder. Plus, I left a message on my cell phone. If I’m not back at my desk in forty-five minutes, the feds will know to come looking for me.”

Lubec cast him a stone-cold look. He didn’t like the feds. Steve had already figured that one out. In the same dead tone as always, Lubec said, “On Monday at 5:00 p.m., we will send the link to the pictures to the attorney general and the director of the FBI.” He let his gaze bore into Steve for a couple seconds. “You have until then to get us the names we want. No more stalling.”

“I can’t…” But Steve knew he wouldn’t get anywhere by trying to appeal to their common sense about his limitations. “I’m serious, okay? I don’t have that kind of access. Lattimore doesn’t have that kind of access-”

“We also want the names of any undercover agents trying to penetrate our network.”

Our network. No more fooling around with semantics. Steve wasn’t reassured-they weren’t making him an ally. They didn’t trust him. They didn’t believe he was one of them. They had him by the balls, pure and simple.

“Come on.” He tried to keep his desperation out of his tone. “Nobody’s going to give me that kind of information.”

“We want to know if Alicia Miller and Quinn Harlowe were using the Yorkville cottage as a cover to infiltrate us on behalf of the federal government.”

Steve held his hands to his ears. “I don’t want to know details. La-la-la. I can’t hear you.”

Lubec rolled his eyes. “Monday at five.”

The kid tapped Steve on the shoulder. “Move away from the car.”

He complied, dropping his hands from his ears. The Nazi Youth got into the SUV. As it pulled away, Steve sank against a light pole, his bowels loosening. His only smart move of the day was telling everyone at work he was going home early. Now, he didn’t have to go back to the office and instead could go home and be sick in peace.

Home?

If Quinn figured out he had swiped her notes, she’d be all over him. And the Nazis-they’d never be satisfied. They wanted what he couldn’t give. He’d done too much for them as it was. He knew too much about them.

Lubec.

Steve shuddered. He had a name now, not just a description. Obviously, they’d helped out with that Tatro escape last fall.

They weren’t going to leave him to his own devices. They’d have his office and apartment watched. For all he knew, someone was on his ass right now.

He couldn’t go home.

Just go back to Quinn’s office and tell her everything.

If anyone could put the pieces together of what these goons were up to, Steve knew it was Quinn Harlowe. She’d help him sort through his options. Telling her everything had to be better than throwing his lot in with Lubec and the rest of his Nazis.

The pictures…

He thought of his mother, no prize herself, home in New Jersey, so proud of her son the Justice Department lawyer.

Narrowly stopping himself from puking on the sidewalk, Steve clasped a hand to his lower abdomen and started to run.

“Are you sure you know who your friends are?”

Seated in the back of a government car, Gerard Lattimore couldn’t read Oliver’s tone over his cell phone. He was on his way to a meeting at FBI headquarters and almost hadn’t answered the call. “Do any of us?”

His old friend chuckled softly. “Good answer. I don’t mean to make you paranoid. You have an important position in the government. Of course, I’m not privy to the details of anything you’re responsible for, but I imagine none of it’s trivial. I don’t envy you, I must say.”

“You’ve never envied anyone, Ollie. You wouldn’t waste your time.”

“Time is valuable.”

“Speaking of which-I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be brief. It’s been brought to my attention that your Quinn Harlowe has been asking questions about you. She’s very bright, isn’t she? And suspicious, if not by nature, after working for you for three years. Her friend’s death can’t have helped.”

“What kind of questions is she asking? Of whom? You, Ollie?”

“I don’t have the details. I’m working on getting them. Are you by any chance under investigation?”

Gerard kept himself from shooting up out of his seat. “Of course not.”

“Would you know if you were?”

“Ollie, I don’t play those games. I’m as straightforward as they come. If people want to maneuver and plot behind my back, fine. I’ll just keep doing my job.”

“Spoken like a true patriot,” his friend said.

“Are you suggesting Quinn is part of some kind of conspiracy to undermine me?”

“Oh, no. I’m suggesting no such thing. I’m not trying to make you paranoid. Just watch your back.” Oliver paused, taking a sharp, audible breath. “I didn’t, and I almost lost my life. I don’t want the same to happen to you.”

So that was it. A touch of post-trauma paranoia. “Ollie-I’m sorry. I wish I had more time to talk.”

“You’re coming out to Yorkville this weekend, aren’t you? My people tell me your boat’s been cleaned and is ready to go. I’m in Washington at the moment, but I expect to be back at Breakwater tonight. I’m having an open house there tomorrow afternoon.”

“Tomorrow? At Breakwater?” Gerard didn’t hide his surprise.

“Yes. It’s Sharon ’s idea, but I think it’s a good one. We’re still meeting resistance here in Yorkville, which we need to confront, especially with a dozen trainees arriving in the next couple of weeks.”

“I understand, but it’s so soon after Alicia Miller’s death-”

“We had nothing to do with her death. We don’t have the luxury of time, Gerry. When we’re fully operational, Breakwater Security will provide a necessary, legitimate service. Everything we’ve done or plan to do not only complies with the law but exceeds industry standards. Once people see for themselves, I think we’ll allay any community concerns. We’re trying to be as open and as sensitive as possible.”

Gerard couldn’t help but chuckle. “Damn, Ollie, you should be working in a government public information office. You can spin with the best of them.”

“I’m just telling the truth.” He seemed offended. “Will you come tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Invite Quinn Harlowe to join you.”

“Ollie-”

“You need to know who your friends are, Gerry. And your enemies. I can help.”

“Quinn’s a friend,” Gerard said. “I have no doubts.”

“Good. Then you’ll bring her tomorrow.”

His car had arrived at the restaurant where his meeting was being held. Gerard had to hang up, but when he said goodbye, he felt a crawling sensation that he couldn’t quite describe or understand. The kidnapping in December had been a brutal ordeal for his old college buddy, and Alicia’s accidental drowning almost two weeks ago, coupled with her bizarre behavior, had been an unexpected blow for everyone. For Oliver Crawford, a multimillionaire businessman who liked control, Alicia’s death alone would have been cause for him to retrench. Add in an intense, inquisitive Quinn Harlowe, the events of the past few months had to have rubbed raw every fear and insecurity he had.

A spring-weekend afternoon party at beautiful Breakwater could just be what the doctor ordered-for all of us, Gerard thought.

“One moment,” he told his driver, dialing Quinn’s cell phone.

Ollie’s warning was pure drama and post-trauma edginess, Gerard decided, dismissing it from his mind.

He trusted no one more than he did Quinn Harlowe.