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people. My style is completely different, and I might get through to him. Please let me try?”

He grinned. “You think this seductive femme fatale act will work?”

“I hope so.”

“I admit I’m enjoying it,” he murmured, grabbing her around the waist and jerking her into his body, “and I’m tempted to take you into the bedroom for a quick, naked roll between the sheets.”

“Or on top of them.”

“Or on top of them,” he repeated, lowering his lips to her neck and devouring her skin.

“Ooh, I love that.”

“I know,” he purred, grasping her backside, “but I need to see how Jack’s doing with David Clark. The fun stuff will have to wait.”

“Jack doesn’t need your help.”

“No, he doesn’t, but I want to see what David’s given him so far,” Scott replied, landing an unexpected hard slap before pulling back.

“Ouch, what was that for?”

“A reminder to behave.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you just like whacking my ass.”

“Well, there is that,” he said with a chuckle. “Get busy and fix us some lunch.”

“So now I’m a domestic diva?”

“You’ve always been a diva, there’s nothing new about that. Feeding the troops so they can keep their strength up is essential, and besides, it’s an order.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” she replied briskly, stepping back and saluting. “One good meal coming up. Permission to bang on the door when it’s ready, Sir.”

“You’re such a brat,” he said sternly, but grinned as he shook his head and marched away.

Pulling a fry pan from the pot cupboard and setting it on a burner, she retrieved a package of ground beef from the refrigerator. Dropping the meat in the pan, she began breaking it up with a wooden spoon, but suddenly stopped, turned around, and stared at the hall. In a room just a short distance away, Jim was sitting in a chair handcuffed and totally bereft.

The temptation to talk to him was almost overwhelming.

You can only be part of this operation if you follow my orders. The first time you don’t, you’re out. No second chances. Am I clear?

Scott’s sternly delivered warning blasted through her head.

Curling her fists, frustrated and furious, she marched to the basement door and pounded loudly. Long seconds ticked by before it finally creaked open.

“What?” Scott asked, quickly stepping out and closing it behind him.

“You’re not wearing your balaclava,” she declared, shocked to see him barefaced. “I thought you had to remain anonymous.”

“I took it off on my way up the stairs. What’s so urgent?”

“I have to speak to Jim. I have questions of my own, but besides that, I’m sure he’ll open up and tell me what he knows. Please, Scott. If I screw it up I’ll never ask for anything again.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well, you might be right,” she admitted sheepishly, “but it doesn’t mean I’m wrong about speaking to him.”

“Okay, Elizabeth, but I’ll be monitoring the interview. If I hear or see anything I don’t like, I’ll pull you out.”

“There are cameras in the rooms? Sorry, silly question.”

“Go, before I change my mind.”

“You won’t regret it.”

“I hope not,” he said solemnly. “Remember, stay calm.”

“I will, and thank you.”

Moving quickly back to the stove and making sure the burner was turned all the way down, she hastily added salt and pepper, covered the pan with a lid, then hurried down the hall. Stopping at the door and gathering her thoughts, she unlocked it and walked inside.

Chapter 18

Elizabeth had expected to find Jim upset and agitated, but when she entered the dimly lit, small barren room, she found him slumped forward and motionless.

“Jim?” she said softly, touching his shoulder, worried he’d passed out. “Hey, Jim, are you okay?”

“Elizabeth?” he breathed, slowly raising his head.

His red-rimmed eyes stared up at her.

He looked a hundred years old.

“Are you okay?” she repeated.

“Yeah, just wiped out. Where’s your friend?”

“Busy, and I had to fight to be with you by myself.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. You always did debate orders you didn’t like.”

“Yeah, well, if you recall, I was proven right more times than not,” she quipped, lifting a folding chair from against the wall and sitting opposite him. “Don’t make me sorry I pushed my luck to talk to you.”

“I’ll do my best. What do you want to know?”

“What do you think? Why were you working for that bastard Conchello? What possessed you to screw up your life like that?”

“I can’t talk about it,” he grunted, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“Because you’re embarrassed.”

“Something like that.”

“Too bad, you have to tell me. How could such a good guy make such a horrible decision?”

“I guess it doesn’t matter now, the cat’s out of the bag, and it’s not complicated,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I wanted to give Susan and the kids everything. Working for Conchello I was able to do that. A nice house, cool cars, a great education, and I was hoping to take Susan on a world cruise when I retire, first class all the way.”

Watching him as she listened to his short, sorry story, she barely recognized the man she once admired. Jim Parker, the ultimate, straight-laced crime fighter, had been a facade. Fresh fury bubbled up inside her.

This is how you deliver revenge. Cold, calculating cleverness. Raw emotion has no place.

As Scott’s words rang in her ears, she stood up and paced, trying to swallow back her anger.

“I’m so sorry about Manny,” Jim suddenly burst out, copious tears spilling from his eyes. “I didn’t tell Conchello about you two, I didn’t, I swear. He called and asked me if you and Manny worked for the DEA. I told him I’d never heard of either of you.”

Disbelieving, she paused her step and stared at him.

“If it wasn’t you, who was it?” she demanded. “How did he find out?”

“As far as I know, he didn’t. He probably still doesn’t know. Dan Miller was the one spreading the rumor. He had it in for both of you. Manny because he was supposedly your boyfriend, and you because you rejected him.”

“That’s crazy, Dan’s a creep, women must reject

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