“As I was saying,” Shane began in a tight voice, when the door swung open again and Mr. Fitz marched in.

“Here I am, as ye asked, lassie,” he said, nodding purposefully to Faith as he tugged on the bottom of his smelly brown coat.

The glower Shane turned on her was almost enough to make Faith swallow her bravado. “Are you the least familiar with the concept of the need-to-know basis?” he questioned in a dark, silky voice.

“Um… Mr. Fitz lives here,” she said, not wanting to admit she had wanted all these people present for moral support more than anything. “He needs to know.”

Shane’s hands clenched the edge of the table like vise clamps as he struggled with his temper. “Why don’t we just call the Anastasia Gazette and tell them everything that’s going on here?”

Faith sniffed. “You don’t have to get snippy.”

“I’m drawing the line here, Faith,” Shane said through his teeth. He turned to the bearded, bedraggled caretaker. “You can go, Mr. Fitz. You don’t need to know.”

The old man’s beetle brows waggled furiously as he gave Shane a hard stare, then turned and left, grumbling under his breath.

“Can we get on with this, please?” Banks asked pointedly.

“Yes.” Shane turned toward Faith once again and gave her a direct order. “Pack what you need. We’re moving you out of here.”

“No.” She watched Shane blow smoke out of his nose and wondered how much of it could be attributed to his mood rather than his cigarette. He didn’t like her plan, but her mind was made up. She was all through playing this hellish waiting game. The scare she’d had over Lindy’s disappearance the day before had pushed her to take the offensive. Her chin came up a notch, and she turned toward Banks, meeting his bloodshot green eyes with a fierce look.

“I want the man caught. I want him punished.”

Banks opened his mouth to comment, but Shane ignored his boss. All his attention was focused on the woman he had just discovered that he loved. “I want you safe, Faith.”

“That’s what I want too,” Faith insisted, her eyes begging him to understand. “I can’t go on like this, living in a state of terror, waiting and waiting. I can’t go on letting William Gerrard victimize me.”

Shane’s stubborn expression didn’t alter a fraction. “Then we’ll put you in a safe house until the trial is over.”

“And then what? What do I do if you never catch this madman? Am I supposed to go on forever waiting for William’s accomplice to take revenge?”

She wasn’t going to like his next suggestion, Shane knew, but it was the only foolproof solution. It was the solution the frightened man inside him wanted put into motion immediately-anything to keep Faith safe. The idea of anyone hurting her or Lindy scared the hell out of him. “Then we put you in the witness protection program.”

“Absolutely not. This inn is my home, Shane, my dream. I came here with my friends to start a new life. I will not let William steal that from me. When I left him, I vowed I would never let him manipulate me again. That’s exactly what I’d be doing if I went into hiding. I want this ended now.” She turned back toward Banks. “I want to set a trap.”

Again when Banks opened his mouth to offer an opinion, Shane jumped in ahead of him. His low, rough voice had the razor edge of steel in it, which matched the glint in his gray eyes perfectly. He brought Faith’s attention back to himself by snatching hold of her wrist, as if he thought he could change her mind with the strength of his grip. “No way in hell am I letting you set yourself up as bait.”

Faith glared up at him, her dark eyes blazing. “Isn’t that what I’ve been all along?”

Shane ground his teeth. He couldn’t deny it. From the beginning the plan had been to construct a loose net around Faith in order to capture the missing piece from the DataScam puzzle. The difference-the very big difference-was that Shane hadn’t been in love with Mrs. William Gerrard, the woman he had been sent here to watch over. He was very much in love with Faith Kincaid, the woman who had quietly stolen her way into his heart over the past few weeks.

It went against everything in him to allow her to put herself in danger. In fact, the idea terrified him. It was the kind of fear that reached deep inside, past all his barriers to the lonely man who had distanced himself from others all these years. He hated the feeling, hated the way it interfered with his logic.

“What you’re talking about is entirely different.” He fairly growled the words as he ground out his cigarette on the delicate china saucer before him.

Faith met his fierce gaze without flinching. A corner of her mind was aware that Shane’s attitude was stemming from something other than professional judgment, but she couldn’t wonder about that right now. This was not the time for romantic fantasies. It was time for her to take control of her fate. “What I’m talking about is putting an end to this so I can get on with my life.”

“If we follow your damn fool plan, you may not have a life to get on with!” Trying to dominate her with his size, he leaned over her until they were practically nose to nose. Faith didn’t so much as blink.

“I’m with Shane,” Alaina announced. Faith’s expression clearly branded her a traitor, but that didn’t sway Alaina’s judgment. “You’re under no obligation to help catch this person, Faith. The burden of his arrest is on the government, as is your right to protection. As your legal counsel and your friend, I advise against your scheme.”

“Well, I’m with Faith,” Jayne said, always ready to stick up for the underdog. “A person can live in suspense for only so long-about the length of a Hitchcock movie. This has already gone on too long. And if Faith strongly feels it’s her destiny to help capture this man… well, then maybe it’s just her karma,” she said with a decisive nod. She gave Faith her most supportive look. “As long as there’s a hundred cops around and no chance of you getting hurt, I think it’s a good idea.”

Alaina slanted her a look. “This from someone who thought mood rings were a good idea.”

“They were,” Jayne grumbled, crossing her arms over her meager bosom. “Just because yours was always black-”

“May I interject a thought here?” Banks questioned dryly, raising his big square hands in supplication. “After all, I did just fly the width of the continent to be in on this discussion.”

Shane shot his boss a glare of pure annoyance. “What?”

“I think Ms. Kincaid has a point.”

Shane’s answer to that was a rude snort. He slumped back in his chair like a sulky teenager and scowled at Faith. “I think Ms. Kincaid has a screw loose.”

Faith’s temper boiled over abruptly. She was operating on too much anxiety and too little sleep. Her chair scraped back against the polished wood floor as she pushed herself to her feet.

“Just what is your problem?” she demanded, bracing her small hands on the tabletop and leaning over Shane for a change. “You came here perfectly willing to use me as cheese to trap this rat. Now that I’m willing to play an active part in your plan, you suddenly want to put me under lock and key! It doesn’t make any sense!”

Shane shoved his own chair back from the table and stood, regaining his considerable height advantage.

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” he declared, his voice a menacing purr as he moved a step closer to her, his hands jammed at the waistband of his gray trousers.

Faith leaned toward him, heedless of the muscle twitching in his rock-solid jaw. They’d been arguing this same point for hours, never getting past it. She’d had it with his wall of arrogant reserve.

“Why?” she prodded, bent on breaking that cool control of his and getting a straight answer out of him. She inched ahead until the toes of her small canvas sneakers butted up against Shane’s black loafers. “Because you’re in charge? Because you’re on some typically male power trip that dictates you have to have control over a mere woman? Because-”