“Okay. No charges.” She got a pit in her stomach, saying the words out loud.

“I’m glad you understand,” Silas said with a nod of approval. “And there’s one last thing: I haven’t had the chance to speak to anyone at the Bureau about this. Somebody needs to tell Agent Pallas and the others that we’re pulling out of the Martino case. I thought, since you seem to have a good rapport with him, that it should be you.”

Now that was a conversation Cameron wanted no part of. “I think it might be more appropriate if Agent Pallas heard this directly from you, Silas. Especially given everything he went through in this investigation.”

“He was doing his job as an FBI agent. That’s how these things turn out sometimes.”

Sensing from his tone that the matter was no longer open for discussion, Cameron nodded. She wasn’t sure she trusted herself to speak at that moment, anyway.

Silas held her eyes. “And just so we’re on the same page, the only thing the FBI needs to know is that there aren’t going to be any charges brought against Martino and his men. This office has a strict policy that we do not comment on our internal decision-making process.”

When Cameron still said nothing, Silas cocked his head. “I need you to be a team-player on this, Cameron. Is that understood?”

Oh, she understood all right. Silas was selling her out—letting her take the fall for his decision to back off of Martino. But that was how the game was played. He was her boss, not to mention an extremely important and well-connected member of the Chicago legal community. Which meant there was only one thing she could say.

“Consider it done.”

JACK WATCHED AS Wilkins checked his rearview mirror. The passenger in the backseat had been silent for a while.

“Is she asleep?” he asked.

Wilkins nodded. “Been a long night.”

“True. Let’s pick up another round of coffee before heading back. The stuff they have in the office tastes like shit.”

“I meant that it’s been a long night for her.”

Jack knew exactly what Wilkins had meant. But he was trying to avoid thinking about her as much as possible.

“Kind of strange, the two of you meeting again under these circumstances.”

Wilkins apparently had not received his let’s-just-drop-the-issue memo.

Jack glanced in his mirror to double-check that Cameron was sleeping. “It would’ve been strange no matter what circumstances we’d met under,” he said, keeping his voice low.

Wilkins looked away from the road. “You have any regrets?”

“About what I said?”

“Yeah.”

“Only that they had a camera there.”

Wilkins shook his head. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

“Don’t ever get on my bad side.”

“Thanks.”

Jack liked working with Wilkins. He’d hesitated at first when his boss had decided to partner him with a guy who’d just graduated from the Academy. He’d hesitated even more when he’d gotten a look at the expensive suit Wilkins had been wearing the first day they met. But underneath the grins and jokes, Wilkins was a lot savvier than Jack had first given him credit for, and he respected that—even if the two of them couldn’t have been more different in their approach to most things. Besides that, Jack welcomed having a partner who actually talked for a change, considering his last partner in Nebraska had spoken an average of about six-point-three words a day and had the personality of a doorknob. Stakeouts with the guy had been a real hoot. Not that stakeouts in Nebraska were all that interesting to start with. He’d been bored out of his mind the last three years—which, of course, had been the whole point of the disciplinary action the Department of Justice had taken against him.

Jack glanced again in his mirror to check out Cameron sleeping in the backseat.

He wasn’t being entirely truthful, telling Wilkins that he had no regrets about what had happened three years ago. Of course he did—what he said had been uncalled for. He knew that all of about two seconds after the words had flown out of his mouth.

When he’d found out that he was being transferred back to Chicago, he’d vowed to put everything behind him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t counted on running into Cameron Lynde within his first week of being back. Being around her brought back a lot of old memories.

For starters, he still couldn’t forget the way she had refused to look at him the day she told him about the Martino case.

Late that Friday afternoon, three years ago, Cameron had called to say she was coming to his office to speak with him and his partner at the time, Joe Dobbs. When he had heard the knock and seen her standing in his doorway, he’d smiled. Jack distinctly remembered that, probably because of how rare it was that he smiled back in those days—there hadn’t been a lot to be chipper about during the two years he’d worked for Martino. He was still, to put it bluntly, pretty fucked-up from being undercover for so long and having trouble getting back into the routine of normal life. He also wasn’t sleeping at night, and that certainly didn’t help matters.

But as much as he had been finding it difficult to transition back to an office job, there was one part of it he didn’t mind: working with Cameron Lynde. He’d begun to worry, in fact, that he was starting to not mind it a little too much. They’d only ever talked business—the Martino case—yet the couple of times they’d been alone together, he felt some sort of undercurrent between them. He didn’t know how to describe it, except to say that whatever the undercurrent was, it was enough to make him wish he wasn’t still so screwed up.

“Come on in,” Jack had told her.

When Cameron stepped into his office that Friday afternoon, for once she didn’t return his smile.

“Will Agent Dobbs be joining us?” she asked.

“He’s on his way. Why don’t you have a seat while you wait?” Jack gestured to the chairs in front of his desk.

Cameron shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Over the course of the last month, Jack had gotten to know her well enough to know that she was not fine right then. Something was wrong—she had skipped over the tough-as-nails-but-not-really sarcastic/semi-flirtatious pleasantries he had come to expect and enjoy as part of their usual discourse. Not to mention, she seemed skittish.

He had a bad feeling about this.

“You said you wanted to talk about Martino—is there a problem with the case?” He watched as she hesitated.

Bingo.

Cameron’s eyes shifted to the door. “I think we should wait until Agent Dobbs gets here.” She bit her bottom lip worriedly, and Jack couldn’t decide what was more troubling—her sudden display of vulnerability or the fact that he now couldn’t take his eyes off her lips.

He got up from his desk, walked over, and shut his office door. He stood before her. “Something’s got you upset.”

“Agent Pallas, I think—”

He cut her off. “It’s Jack, okay? I think it’s probably time for us to be on a first-name basis.” When her gaze darted again to his office door, he did something that surprised them both—he reached out and touched her chin gently.

He turned her face to his. “Talk to me, Cameron. Tell me what’s wrong.”

When her incredible aquamarine eyes met his, he felt it—something akin to the jolts of electricity Martino’s men had hit him with during his two days of captivity. Only infinitely more enjoyable.

“Jack,” she whispered. “I’m so sor—”

A knock at the door interrupted them.

Jack and Cameron sprang away from each other as the door to his office opened. Joe walked in, surprised to find them both standing there.

“Oh, hey—sorry I’m late.” He took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Jack’s desk—they had been partners for four years and were comfortable in each other’s offices. He crossed his leg and looked up at Cameron. “Jack said you wanted to talk to us about Martino?”