Debra Webb
Past Sins

MILLS & BOON

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I’ve met a lot of terrific ladies in my life who would

definitely fall into the Bombshell category, but not one

with a truer heart than Vicki Hinze. Vicki possesses every

single trait that epitomizes a Bombshell heroine. I feel

privileged to call her my friend.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

About the Author

Coming Next Month

Chapter 1

Never count on anything to last.

From the large window in reception Dr. Olivia Mills watched uneasily as her final patient climbed into his Bentley and drove away from her West Hollywood office.

Other than talking to the dead, this particular patient was a class act. Well dressed, well mannered, wealthy. Unfortunately, like far too many Hollywood residents, his love life might never be stable. But then, that meant job security for her. As long as people needed a sounding board her calendar would stay full.

That, she mused, was the upside of high anxiety.

Though her private practice wasn’t that large, she had half a dozen or so eccentric has-been stars on her patient list as well as a few she considered to be regular civilians—in other words, not employed in the entertainment industry. Most, in or out of the business, she had inherited from the man who’d retired after four decades in this very location.

Olivia had been fortunate enough to meet him during the leasing process and they’d formed an instant friendship—an extremely rare development for her. The whole father-figure notion hadn’t been lost on her at the time.

Her new friend had recommended her to all his patients, ensuring a grand start to her new endeavor. That he’d passed away only a short time later had reiterated a couple of theories that she’d operated under for a significant portion of her life—never depend on anyone, never count on anything to last.

If she were like most in her current field of expertise she would have her own shrink with whom to discuss that very issue as well as a multitude of others. But the past sins that had formed her deeply rooted cynicism were far too great to lay at anyone else’s door.

Tearing away from those dark thoughts, she locked the front entrance and tidied the magazines on the table near the sofa. She surveyed the small reception room, noted the drapes were looking a little drab and out of date. She’d have to do something about that before long. It was hard to believe she’d been here three years already.

A tiny knot formed in the pit of her stomach when she thought about how comfortable she’d gotten with this life.

Never count on anything to last.

“Enough, Olivia,” she muttered. Looking forward was the only direction she allowed nowadays. No exceptions.

Before turning out the lights she checked the soil in the pots of salmon-colored geraniums to see if they needed water. Good to go for another day, she decided as she clicked off the light. Exhaustion nipped at her heels. She’d had a full schedule, one interesting client after the other. She had to smile as she considered some of the stories she’d heard. She did love her work. Loved her life, as well.

And that was the truly scary part.

“Stop it,” she muttered. Stop thinking stupid thoughts. Stop overanalyzing and contemplating the worst. Her period had come and gone this month. There was absolutely no reason for her to be obsessing like this. Depression wasn’t her style, no matter how hormonal she felt on any given day. The right kind of training could teach a person to block most any discomfort. And she’d had all the right training.

More ancient, irrelevant history she didn’t want or need to think about.

Five minutes was all she needed to straighten her office and dictate the results of her final session. The patient continued to experience panic attacks related to the death of his last liaison. He’d been in one of those mega-intense relationships where physical intimacy overwhelmed his entire existence to the detriment of his mental well-being.

Olivia had experienced that kind of relationship personally and could understand how one could get caught up in the incredible sensory rush. It was like a drug. The memories evoked by the thought were immediately stuffed back into their designated compartment before regret and too many other emotions to name could take root and ruin what should be a perfectly good evening.

What was wrong with her today? She hadn’t had this much trouble maintaining a proper attitude in more than two years. Listening to that last patient go on and on about the powerful bond with his lover had obviously prodded loose far too many pieces of her own past. There was simply no other explanation.

After a deliberate mental adjustment and checking of her calendar for the next day, she locked her desk and files, made her way out the side exit and climbed into her Audi. She lowered the convertible top, backed out of the alley that served as a parking lot and pointed the car toward home.

Home.

Even after three years that felt a little foreign.

In her former life she’d moved around a lot, seldom spending more than a few months in any one place. She’d had a home base, so to speak, but nothing she would have called home. Certainly not in the way she considered her small ranch-style house in the Hollywood Hills. It was her first real home. The admission brought with it another prick of uncertainty. Why all the creepy feelings of imminent doom? Apparently she needed a long, hard run to clear her mind. Extreme physical exertion would likely do the trick. Maybe she’d spent too much time behind her desk lately.

She slid her Oakleys into place and sped along Santa Monica Boulevard. The sun felt amazing and she abruptly wished she were on the beach soaking up some rays. She definitely needed a vacation. Maybe that was the real problem. It was the middle of July already and neither she nor Jeffrey had made time for an escape.

She’d have to speak with Jeffrey about getting away. It was past time. Their combined work schedules were grueling. Between his research at the lab and her high-maintenance clients, they barely had time to manage dinner on a regular basis.

Olivia glanced at her watch. Just past 1800 hours.

Her teeth clenched as she cursed and amended her assessment—6:00 p.m. was what she’d meant.

The tiny gold heart and delicate matching chain lying against her throat abruptly felt like a rock pressing down on her. She would not think about the past.

She took the turn up Mount Olympus, scarcely letting off the accelerator. The oleander and casa blanca lilies and tropical hibiscus were in full bloom. The colorful displays in pots and flower beds were eye-catching and filled the breeze with their sweet smells. She wished she knew all their names. She’d never been much of a gardener. Now that she had the time and place for it, she felt aeons behind on what she should know—what everyone but her appeared to know. Her neighbors gave the impression of having been born with green thumbs.

Maybe she’d get the hang of domesticity eventually. Meanwhile she’d enjoy the other benefits of being a “regular” civilian.

Summer in California, in particular, was nice. Very nice. She’d grown to love it here. Her love for the place had prompted a sort of nesting instinct—at least, the closest thing she’d ever experienced to one.

Braking hard, she took the turn into her narrow drive. A smile spread across her face at the sight of hummingbirds floating away from her bougainvillea. Thankfully the previous owner had cultivated a thriving landscape that required little know-how. All she had to do was remember to do the watering and occasionally pluck a few weeds.

Jeffrey’s practical Saturn was already parked in the drive. She hoped he’d started dinner. That was one of the perks to having a live-in relationship. You didn’t have to do all the cooking or cleaning.

She and Jeffrey had been living together for six whole months, dating for nine. A record for her. The realization still startled her. It was her first long-term commitment of that sort. He wasn’t the love of her life, but she enjoyed his company and the sex was quite adequate.

Memory attempted once more to intrude at that juncture but she kicked it back. She definitely wasn’t going there. Now or ever.

Once the convertible top was locked into place, she slid out of the seat and headed inside. The pleasant smell of her favorite white-wine sauce filled her nostrils the moment she stepped through the front door. Linguini and chicken, a staple of Jeffrey’s culinary repertoire, would be on the menu. In addition to the pleasant aroma, classical music greeted her, the elegant notes playing softly in the background and making her feel immediately more relaxed.

“I’m home!” She almost laughed at the cheesy way she sounded. If she’d only tacked on the “honey” she would have been a living, breathing cliché. Olivia Mills had never been accused of being a stock quotient. Had that changed in the past three years along with everything else about her life? Evidently so. But there were definitely worse things. A lot worse.

“In here!” accompanied a rise in the tempo of the brass, strings and ivory keys.

Her stomach rumbling, she followed the smell into the kitchen. Hesitating at the door, she watched Jeffrey, engrossed in the preparation of a rich green salad. He paused in his work to dump the linguini into boiling water then turned back to slice fresh tomatoes into thin slivers just the way she liked them. He had very nice hands. Long, artist fingers. But the thing she liked best about him was his infinite patience and unconditional trust.

Two things she’d never been able to master herself. Her patience had never been that noteworthy, unless she was billing by the hour. And trust, well, she’d never trusted anyone. Still didn’t…but she tried. Jeffrey made her want to try.

“Rough day?” he asked without looking up.

“Not so bad.”

He would ask her about lunch next.

“Did you have lunch with Liz?”

“She had to cancel.” Liz was a colleague with whom she lunched once or twice each month. They were about the same age, both single. The other woman was pleasant but, to be brutally honest, they had nothing in common other than profession. Still, socializing within the profession was expected. Fitting in dictated certain behaviors on her part.

With her and Jeffrey it was basically the same conversation every night. How was your day? Anything interesting happen at lunch? The only variable was whether she got home first to start dinner. Comfortable. Easy.

A trickle of trepidation seeped into her veins, making her pulse rate increase and reminding her that complacency was a weakness. Weakness was dangerous. All afternoon she’d been experiencing these sensations that alternated between urgency and hesitancy. Strange.

“Too bad. I understand she had some gossip to pass along,” Jeffrey said, tugging her full attention back to him. He glanced at her and smiled that familiar, charming smile that had drawn her to him in the first place. “Wine?”

She nodded and he stopped his salad preparations long enough to pour her a stemmed glass of chardonnay.

Annoyed that she couldn’t stay focused tonight, she moved to the island and accepted the drink. “Gossip?” she asked, feigning interest. Her heart rate’s refusal to drop back to a normal level frustrated her further.

Jeffrey placed the glass in her hand. “She’s leaving her position at Whitworth Clinic.”

Olivia made the expected sound of disbelief. “What brought that on?” She listened as Jeffrey launched into the explanation that Liz’s significant other had no doubt passed along to him. In Olivia’s experience, men did a lot more talking about secrets than women did. She found this apparently common phenomenon among the civilian population amusing—or maybe it was just that her life before had been so vastly different. Whatever the case, there were times when she actually managed to feel intrigued by the juicy gossip floating about their social circle.

For some reason, today just wasn’t one of those days. Today she had to pretend. It had been so long since she’d had to do that….

“What about you?” she asked when he’d completed his dissertation on the subject of their mutual friend’s abrupt decision to move to a rival clinic. “Anything interesting happen in the world of research today?”

Dr. Jeffrey Scott was employed by one of the country’s foremost pharmaceutical research corporations. Though the corporation was strictly private—no government affiliations whatsoever—what he did deep within the bowels of that facility was top secret. That was the part of their relationship that she related to the most readily.

He shrugged. “Nothing notable.”

She hummed a note of acknowledgment and sipped her wine. “I think I’ll change.”

He reached for the next vegetable in need of slicing. “Ten minutes. Don’t be late.”

She produced a smile and turned away from the domestic scene.

This was her life. Comfortable. Easy. But there were times, like now, when she felt out of place. As if she didn’t really belong here in this house…with this man. She downed a gulp of wine in hopes of bolstering the facade of happiness she’d worked so hard to veneer into place over the past three years.

“Don’t think about it,” she scolded softly as she tossed her purse onto the table in the hall. Allowing a patient’s session to prompt this much anxiety was not her usual response. She was stronger than this.

The journey through her home was taken slowly. She surveyed every detail as if for the first time. Anything to get her mind off these ridiculous feelings of apprehension.

She had updated the house immediately after moving in. Gutted the place, actually. Sparing no expense, she had wanted a relaxing yet sophisticated living space. The interior decorator she’d hired had taken great pains with the decor and the furnishings had accomplished that goal. Using things and everyday decisions to fill the emptiness in her life had worked as an excellent distraction at first. Eventually it was not enough. She’d turned her attention elsewhere.

Dating had proven a practical trial for occupying her time for a while. However, no one had lasted beyond date number three until Jeffrey. She tossed her double-breasted suit jacket onto the king-size bed in their room and strode into the walk-in closet to find something more comfortable.

It wasn’t that she’d fallen in love with Jeffrey. He’d simply fit nicely into the life she’d created for herself. He was reliable, kind and always considerate. He made no complicated demands. Simple was her new motto, after all.

Pink silk lounge pants and a matching camisole replaced her skirt and button-up blouse. The tile of the en suite bath felt cool beneath her bare feet, a welcome respite after wearing stilettos all day.

Once she had taken the pins from her French twist, she brushed through her long dark hair until it glistened around her shoulders. If she really took the time to consider her reflection, she would have to admit that she looked the same as before. Her hair was longer and darker, but otherwise she’d changed very little. Same green eyes. No additional wrinkles to speak of for a woman closer to forty than thirty. It was everything else in her life that had altered.

She hissed a breath of impatience. Why couldn’t she stop this? She hadn’t had this much trouble focusing since…since the beginning.

She grabbed her empty glass and headed back to join Jeffrey.

He’d set the dining table. Flowers, candles and the lovely white bone china they used every day. He placed the salad bowl in the middle of the table next to the linguini and white-wine sauce before he looked up.

“You need another drink.”

He moved to her side to remedy that situation without her having to say a word. That was another thing she enjoyed about Jeffrey. Making her happy appeared to be his single goal when they were together. She should be grateful.

She was.

“Smells heavenly.” She thanked Jeffrey for the refill and settled into the chair he pulled out.

He took his own seat directly across from her and lifted his glass. “To us.” He smiled as their glasses clinked. “And a lovely evening.”

She returned the smile and drank deeply from her wine.

Now was all that mattered.

Her new life…this moment.

The unmistakable sound of her cell phone chimed from the hall. She groaned.

“Don’t answer it,” Jeffrey suggested, looking mildly annoyed at the intrusion.

Olivia sat her glass down. “I shouldn’t.” She took a deep breath and rose from her chair. “But one of my patients is having a crisis. If he needs me…”

Jeffrey rolled his eyes but said nothing as she left the table without finishing the statement. He understood her dedication to her work even if he didn’t like it at times. He was every bit as dedicated as she was.

She walked to the hall table and fished her phone from her bag. Jeffrey was right. She shouldn’t answer. If it was one of her patients, he could leave a message.

The display flashed an icon she didn’t remember seeing before. She frowned as she attempted to remember what it meant.

Then she knew.

Never count on anything to last.

Chapter 2

For ten seconds Olivia couldn’t breathe.

This was impossible.

She told herself to inhale. Instinctively she reached up and fingered the necklace that served as a constant reminder of all she wanted to forget.

“Is everything all right, Olivia?”

Her gaze shot to the dining room where Jeffrey stared at her, concern marring the smooth features of his intelligent face.

She swallowed. “I have to take this.”

Before he could give her a disappointed look for allowing the intrusion during dinner—during their time—she escaped out the front door.

This was not a call forwarded from her office number or her home number or any other number represented by some part of her present life.

This was the past calling. An old cell number she’d once used as a lifeline…a number she’d tried for three years to forget but could never bring herself to let go.

By the fifth ring she had reached the edge of her driveway. She flipped open the phone, her heart pounding. “Yes.” It was a miracle her voice didn’t quaver.

“Sheara?”

The earth shook beneath her, or maybe it was her rigid frame doing the shaking. She tried to steady herself but the name reverberated through her like the aftershocks of a major quake.

This wasn’t possible.

She licked her lips. “Yes.”

“I have a problem that requires your kind of special attention. You were highly recommended.” He cleared his throat. “I would like to arrange a meeting as soon as possible.”

Olivia blinked, glanced around the neighborhood to ensure she hadn’t attracted any unnecessary attention. It wasn’t dark yet but the temperature had dropped significantly, making her shiver.

Or maybe it was the call sending that bone-cold chill rushing through her veins.

Sheara didn’t exist any more. How the hell had this guy gotten her old number? This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d kept that number for one reason only…

“Sheara? Are you there?” The caller cleared his throat again. “Maybe I have the wrong number.”

“No.” She said the word more sharply than she’d intended. “You have the right number.” What the hell did she do now? She was a psychologist, for Christ’s sake. She didn’t do this anymore.

Sheara was dead.

She’d been dead for three years.

She bit back the need to ask how he’d gotten her number. “Where would you like to meet?”

There was only one way to find out who this guy was and how he’d gotten her number. Meet him. Right now. Tonight. This couldn’t wait. Her heart rate climbed with each new realization.

“The location is your choice…right? That’s what I was told.”

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to take another breath. He was right. She had to focus. “What’s your location? And I’ll need a name.” She tried to block the sound of her heart thundering, pumping blood so fast it roared in her ears. What was she doing? This could be a trap. But why? She’d been out of the business for three damn years. The woman she used to be was dead.

His hesitation told her he wasn’t too keen on the idea of giving his name or his location. “Ned…Soderbaum. Chicago.”

It was seven-thirty now. Approximately a three-hour flight. Assuming he could get one in the next hour, midnight would be the earliest meeting time.

“If you can get a flight—”

“My company has…I own a jet.”

Well, okay then. Flight scheduling wouldn’t be a problem. Where to meet? It wouldn’t be a good idea to have him come to Hollywood. Wait. What was she worried about? This was Los Angeles County, including Los Angeles, Beverly Hills and dozens of other mass-population centers. There was an endless supply of anonymous places to meet and far too many people to make her easy to single out.

“The pier at Santa Monica. Midnight.”

More hesitation. “How will I know you?”

“What will you be wearing?” she countered.

“Business suit…ah…navy.”

And you’ll stand out like an American tourist on a nude beach in the south of France, she wanted to say. “Won’t work, Mr. Soderbaum. You want to look like a local. Wear khaki shorts, a white T-shirt and a red baseball cap. I’ll find you.” At that time of night the pier would be pretty much deserted.

“I guess I can do that.”

“Don’t forget the sneakers and the retainer fee.”

“I’m…I’m not sure on that last part. I didn’t get a clear idea of your fee.”

She blinked, suddenly uncertain what to say to that. She remembered well the going rate three years ago, but that would have changed by now.

“Ten now, fifteen later. Nothing larger than a twenty.”

Olivia didn’t wait for his acknowledgment. She closed her phone, ending the call.

She stared at the compact device for an endless moment. What had just happened here? Confusion cluttered her thinking process. Too many questions filled her head. No answers.

Doing a three-sixty right there on the sidewalk she surveyed her quiet neighborhood. The smell of freshly mown grass lingered in the air. Somewhere down the street a dog barked. Two houses to the right of hers the owner paused in his shrub pruning long enough to wave. Children balanced on their skateboards on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.

Nothing had changed.

She stared at her brick home with its clean, crisp coat of white paint…her silver Audi…Jeffrey’s blue Saturn…the lush, colorful landscape all around her. This was her life. She and Jeffrey were supposed to be having dinner. Then they would watch a little television and go to bed. Maybe they would have sex, maybe they wouldn’t. And tomorrow everything started over again. Work. Home. Sleep. Uncomplicated. Safe.

Her gaze dropped to the phone in her hand.

Until thirty seconds ago.

“Can’t you at least have your dinner before you go?”

Jeffrey watched from the bedroom door, none too happy that she had to leave so abruptly.

“You’ll probably be there most of the night,” he pressed. “Even practicing psychologists need to eat, Olivia.”

She pulled the lightweight black sweater over her head and tugged it down her torso to cover the waistband of the black slacks she’d chosen. “I’ll be fine, Jeffrey. Don’t worry. I’ll pick up something at the hospital cafeteria.”

He continued to loiter in the doorway, looking unsettled and uncertain as to whether he should attempt to come up with a more compelling argument. “You’ll call when things calm down?” The way his posture relaxed told her he’d resigned himself to the inevitable.

It didn’t happen often, but occasionally one of her patients would do something radical like take a few too many pills just to make someone believe he or she had intended suicide. The attention received was the point. Episodes such as those were the rare occasions when Olivia had to attend to a patient in the hospital.

She ushered a smile across her lips for Jeffrey’s sake as she stepped into a comfortable pair of black flats that, fortunately, had rubber soles. “Of course I’ll call.” He always worried about her.

“I’ll clean up the kitchen.”

Olivia waited until he’d had sufficient time to get back to the kitchen before she returned to the walk-in closet. She closed the door and moved to the back of the closet. Dropping to her knees she dragged out several shoe boxes until she encountered the one stashed at the very back of her side of the closet, behind all the others. The one she hadn’t touched in three years.

Her respiration slowed as she removed the lid of the box. Her fingers wrapped around the sturdy butt of the Beretta 9mm. She tested its weight. Her pulse reacted. Without hesitation she snapped in a clip and tucked the Beretta into the waistband of her slacks at the small of her back. She grabbed the sound suppressor and an additional fifteen-round clip before putting the box back into place behind the others.

With the accessories slipped into the right pocket of her favorite black silk jacket, she pulled it on. Though southern California nights could get pretty damn cool, the jacket was more to camouflage her weapon than for comfort. She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror and took a deep, steadying breath.

She hadn’t fired a weapon in thirty-seven months. Hadn’t participated in a covert maneuver in even longer.

She had to be out of her mind to go through with this.

But what choice did she have?

Whoever had given out her number—whoever knew she was still alive—had to be ferreted out and contained. She couldn’t pretend this away. Sheara had far too many enemies to take that route.

Olivia was at the front door before she considered that she couldn’t simply leave without saying goodbye. Jeffrey had to believe this was a routine call-in for a patient who’d been admitted to Cedars-Sinai’s psych ward for observation after a possible suicidal episode. The one or two other times she’d had to do this would serve as proper reasoning for her inability to offer a time she could be expected back home.

If she came home…

Jeffrey blew out the candles as she approached the dining room. He’d already cleared their plates and the basically untouched salad and entrée he’d gone to so much trouble to prepare.

“I’ll call you later to let you know how it’s going.” She told herself the statement was about consideration for his feelings. Work he could understand, even if it intruded at an inopportune time. But if she were totally honest with herself she’d admit that she’d gone this extra step to ensure he didn’t grow suspicious. The habit was deeply ingrained.

Just like old times. How many lies had she told to the people in her former life’s orbit? She’d have lied to her own mother had she not been long deceased. Her past life had been built on a careful framework of deception. Lies were all that had kept her alive.

She suppressed the shudder that rocked her insides.

“I’ll warm something up for you when you get back.”

“Thanks, Jeffrey.”

She had to go. Telling him not to wait up was pointless. He would…he always did.

As she walked out the front door and down the paved path to her car, all six senses alert to her surroundings, she couldn’t help thinking that nothing would ever be the same again.

Her new life was over.

The only question was…why?

The drive to Santa Monica took only forty-five minutes. Traffic was light. She didn’t hurry. She had plenty of time. Arriving early would afford her the opportunity to find a reconnaissance position.

The night security would be lurking about, but it wasn’t unusual for people, tourists in particular, to come to the pier at night to enjoy the moonlight on the water.

The park rides, the shops and the restaurants would all be closed by midnight but there would be plenty of lighting. She would need to take great care in selecting her position. If terminating this guy became necessary, she didn’t want any witnesses.

As darkness descended fully and the crowd thinned, Olivia took a position between a closed fast-food tourist trap and a bait and tackle shop. The smell of overcooked hot dogs and frying oil lingered in the air.

During the day, the pier was crowded with locals as well as tourists. As midnight approached, only a lone soul or two lingered on the massive wooden pier. A few others walked along the beach.

Olivia waited in the shadows, analyzing anything that moved. She saw her target’s arrival from a considerable distance as he passed under a light en route from the parking area to the wide planked boardwalk. Khaki shorts, white T-shirt and red baseball cap, just as she’d requested.

She couldn’t make out his face yet. He strolled along somewhat hesitantly as if this might have been his first visit to the pier or maybe he was just afraid of being in a strange place after dark. The pockets of his shorts didn’t bulge, indicating he carried nothing about which she needed to be concerned. What appeared to be a video-camera bag hung on his right shoulder.

As he unknowingly neared her position, he paused and turned all the way around, evidently looking for anyone who might be watching him. With his T-shirt tucked neatly inside the waistband of his shorts, it was obvious that he wasn’t carrying a weapon as she was.

When she’d made out the details of his face she confirmed that she hadn’t met him before, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t trouble.

When he moved just in front of her position, she stepped out of the shadows. “Mr. Soderbaum.”

He gasped and whipped around to face her. Even in the dim lighting she saw his face pale. “Sheara?” He was either a very good actor or scared witless.

Before she began her questioning, she patted him down to ensure he wasn’t wearing a wire or any other sort of listening device. With the more undetectable microfiber jobs, it wasn’t an easy task, so she took her time. She might not be in the business anymore, but she tried to keep up with the latest gadgets.

When she’d satisfied herself that he was clean, she asked, “Is the bag for me?”

He nodded jerkily. “Yes. Sorry.” He swung the camera case off his shoulder and offered it to her.

Olivia accepted the case and opened it for a quick peek. Hundreds of crisp twenty-dollar bills were stacked inside, but that wasn’t her concern at the moment. She checked for tracking and listening devices and found none. Whether that was good or bad, she wasn’t precisely sure.

“Excellent.”

“Do you need to count it?” He glanced around nervously. “What if someone sees us?”

“I’ll count it later.” She closed the case and slung it over her shoulder.

He nodded. “Of course. If it’s not all there you won’t go through with the job.”

She ignored his comment. “Before we go any further, I have a few questions for you, Mr. Soderbaum.”

Uncertainty claimed his expression once more. “I thought I wouldn’t have to answer any questions. I just give you the money and information and the job gets done.” He wasn’t as old as she’d anticipated. Forty maybe. And right now he looked thoroughly terrified.

“Not those kinds of questions, Mr. Soderbaum,” she assured him. “I never accept an assignment without verifying certain things, like who recommended me.”

“I don’t know his real name. I got the recommendation in a chat room.”

Man, this guy was stupider than he looked. “You’re lucky I’m not a federal agent, Mr. Soderbaum.”

Taken aback and obviously startled, he asked, “Why would…oh.” Realization appeared to dawn on him then. Soliciting murder was a serious crime, usually carried a life sentence. The muscles of his throat struggled as he attempted to swallow. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Fortunately for you, I’m not.” That part was definitely true. She opted to get straight to the heart of the matter before pushing for his source. If she made this guy too nervous he might balk. There were certain elements she needed to know and the identity of the target was one of them. “Why don’t we get down to business?”

He nodded, the movement as uncoordinated as a bobble-head doll’s.

“I’ll need the specifics on your target.”

“Of course.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out what looked like a couple of folded sheets of paper. He hesitated before giving them to her.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Soderbaum?”

“You don’t look like a killer,” he commented quietly.

She leaned closer to him, making him catch his breath all over again. “Have you ever met a killer?”

He shook his head with enough vigor to do internal damage.

“Perhaps you’ve met several and simply didn’t know it.”

His eyes widened, then he blinked twice as he appeared to comprehend that a response to her statement wasn’t necessary. “How do you usually, ah—” He cleared his throat. “You know, take care of the situation?”

“Do you have a preferred method?”

“Not at all. I just want it done.”

“I understand.”

He hunched his shoulders and let them fall in a shrug of uncertainty. “How long will it take?”

“A few days. I’ll need time to assess the target and to select the best time and method for elimination.”

Ned Soderbaum gulped.

Keeping a close eye out for anyone else who might attempt to advance upon their position, she let him hang on to his papers a moment longer and pressed him for the crucial details she needed. “Mr. Soderbaum, before we can seal this deal, I will need the name of your source. I don’t accept clients without verifying their source.”

He tried to hold her gaze but couldn’t handle the pressure, so he stared at a covered rack of postcards instead. “He’s not that difficult to find. He’s always in the chat rooms. I don’t know his real name, but his screen name is Phantom.”

A new wave of shock went through her. “You’re certain about that?” The shock abruptly started to evolve, heading toward fury. This had to be a setup, wire or no wire. Her instincts moved to a higher state of alert in anticipation of coming complications. The necklace she wore felt hot against her skin.

Her client nodded. “I’ve talked to him several times. He said you were the best. A perfect record of kills.”

Olivia struggled to conceal her building anger. Allowing him to take note of her out-of-control emotions would be a mistake. “Once I’ve confirmed that information I’ll set things in motion.”

“Excellent.” Soderbaum glanced around nervously. “Here.” He held out his papers. “This is the information you’ll need.”

She accepted the folded pages. “You understand that once this assignment has been set in motion there is no backing out. You can’t change your mind.”

He wet his lips. “Yes, I understand. I want this done as quickly as possible.”

“All right.” Olivia unfolded the paper and studied the full head shot of her target. What her eyes saw made her sway, but she braced herself before her client could pick up on her stunned surprise. Focusing intently to ensure her hands didn’t shake, she shuffled to the next page where the target’s name, address and other stats were listed.

The name and address matched the face but she couldn’t analyze that right now. Her movements deliberate, she refolded the pages and slid them into her jacket pocket.

“I’ll post a personal ad in the Chicago Tribune when the assignment is completed. The ad will contain a number for you to call for the final instructions on depositing the remainder of the fee. If you fail to make the deposit, you’ll be my next target. There won’t be any place you can hide from me.”

Doubt clouded his expression again. “Don’t worry, I’ll make the deposit, but how will I know it’s you?”

She eased into the shadows. “You’ll know.”

Olivia retreated behind the surveillance deck the police used. The route she chose was dark and she was pretty damn sure her client wouldn’t attempt to follow her.

Thankfully he didn’t.

When she reached the parking area, she remained out of sight until Soderbaum climbed into his vehicle and drove away.

She got into her Audi and drove back to Hollywood.

She needed some distance…some big-time perspective.

After three long years of evading the past, it had come back to haunt her.

Sheara, aka Goddess of Death, had been awakened by an old enemy. One she would not allow to betray her a second time. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Whatever his reason for intruding on her new life, she would stop him. Hell, he shouldn’t even know she was alive.

Forcing her attention on the road, she made the journey back to her house on Mount Olympus in record time, despite her evasive route. She had fully anticipated a tail. If there had been one, she’d lost him.

She parked behind Jeffrey’s car and went inside, locking the door and resetting the alarm.

Jeffrey was asleep when she entered the bedroom. She didn’t need a crystal ball or a hidden camera to know he had waited up until his body could no longer deny its need for sleep. Even as frustrated as he must have been when she didn’t call to let him know how things were going, he’d likely waited up far longer than was reasonable because he cared. Something else she couldn’t bear to think about just now.

She didn’t bother with a light, just tucked her loaded weapon beneath her pillow and stripped off her clothes before climbing into bed naked. The subtle scent of Jeffrey’s aftershave felt familiar and somehow comforting, as did the contrast of the cool sheets and his warm skin.

She lay there, the minutes ticking slowly by, wondering how this could possibly be happening. Sleep was out of the question at this point. She had to be ready for anything. Why would he do this? The idea that jealousy might play a role made her furious all over again. How the hell was she supposed to handle this? She had no contacts…nothing.

If she located the Phantom again he would be the one she would execute. Not an innocent target used to draw her back into the line of fire.

Gritting her teeth was the only way to hold back the litany of raging expletives hovering at the back of her throat. He had no right to do this. She’d already given up far too much because of him. The urge to jerk the necklace loose and throw it as far as she could was a palpable thing…but some idiotic, vulnerable female part of her wouldn’t allow her to break that link.

He had given it to her.

A soft ring of the telephone shattered the silence. She reached for the bedside extension before the second ring could disturb Jeffrey.

“Hello.” She kept her voice low, barely a whisper.

Silence.

“Hello.” Still nothing. She didn’t immediately hang up. Just listened. Someone was there—she could sense the presence—but he didn’t speak. He never did.

Then came the click signaling the end of the call.

Was the fact that the call had come only minutes after her return from meeting with Soderbaum significant? Possibly. She hung up the receiver. But this was not her first anonymous call. It was always the same. The phone would ring. She would answer and the caller would remain silent as if the single word she had uttered was the only reason he’d called—to hear her voice. There was no pattern to the calls. They came when they came. She had no idea who the caller was, but she wondered…foolishly.

Just as she often felt someone watching her.

And now she knew why.

He was back.

She couldn’t begin to imagine his objective just yet, but he would have one. Her fingers toyed with the one token she had kept from her past as her gaze drifted to the man sleeping next to her. She could not allow her past sins to intrude on his present. He had no idea who or what she had been three years ago. She had to stop this plunge toward disaster before Jeffrey got hurt.

She closed her eyes and summoned the image of the target Ned Soderbaum had given her a ten-thousand-dollar retainer to eliminate.

Why on earth would anyone want Jeffrey dead?

Chapter 3

Unable to sleep, by 4:00 a.m. Olivia was on the Internet attempting to track down one Ned Soderbaum. It wasn’t easy since she had to do this the hard way, without any useful contacts.

She tugged up the shoulder of her silk robe, annoyed that it kept slipping down. Or maybe just annoyed. Who would have thought that after three years she would need this kind of information? It wasn’t as if a dead woman could attempt to log into the CIA’s database without causing a stir.

Nope. She was on her own. Even if her old user name and password worked, she wouldn’t risk revealing herself. Not if she wanted to stay alive. Apparently one too many people already knew she was alive. Why contact her now? After three years? She was too much of a realist to believe that the resurrection of her old persona was simply a coincidence, especially considering the target.

Olivia shifted the mouse and clicked, sending Google into yet another search. While she waited for the results she glanced at her weapon lying on the desk in front of the flat-panel monitor.

A cold sweat formed on her skin. Her heart rate jumped into a faster rhythm.

She hadn’t taken a human life in over three years. Could she still do it if the necessity presented itself?

A shaky breath rushed past her lips, making her doubt her ability to accomplish the feat she had once performed with scarcely a thought. That had been a different life…she’d been a different person.

The search results spilled across the screen, drawing her attention back to her task. One or two Soderbaums. Lots of Neds. But no Ned Soderbaum of Chicago. Her gut told her the guy didn’t exist. But she had to be sure. The proof was right in front of her. No businessman with enough clout to own his own jet would be thriving without at least one hit on Google.

She could hack into the Social Security Administration’s system as one final stab. She’d already looked at the Illinois DMV database and found nothing. What was one more infraction? She would cover her tracks pretty well, going through an anonymous user ID on Hotmail. Still, a state-level intrusion like the DMV records wouldn’t readily evoke an all-out search for the perpetrator, but a federal breach would bring on the big dogs. Homeland Security’s Net Defense Unit would follow the inevitable tracks until they located this very computer.

It was a chance she’d have to take.

A few more clicks of the keys and she had her answer. No Ned Soderbaum in Illinois, period.

The man had either lied about his name or he didn’t exist. If he’d simply lied about his name, that wasn’t such a big deal, but if he was using an alias, that was a whole different matter. Not using his real name at the moment she asked would have been about fear. Using an alias carried the idea of premeditation, a strategic maneuver to mislead her. Which screamed of a setup.

Still, if this was an Agency-sanctioned operation, why hadn’t they done their homework and given the guy a history to go with the alias? Ensuring a cover was verifiable was Spy 101 stuff.

There was only one answer. Because they wanted her to know she’d been made.

Or…the real threat could be to Jeffrey, and whoever had sanctioned the operation had no idea that research scientist Dr. Jeffrey Scott lived with a former CIA assassin. That didn’t make sense, either, since Soderbaum, or whoever the hell he was, had used her former code name…had mentioned an old enemy. Not to mention that in order for that concept to fly, she was back to the idea of a coincidence and she was a total nonbeliever in the theory. Not when she was the hired assassin.

She knew of only one way to get to the bottom of this.

Olivia leaned back in her chair and let go a heavy breath. She’d have to contact Hamilton.

The name ricocheted through her. David Hamilton had been and still was the deputy director of the CIA’s field operations. If an op was under way he would know about it. But why hadn’t he warned her if she was in danger?

After all, the fact that she was even alive was his doing. Why fail her now?

Too many questions, not nearly enough answers.

It would be daylight soon. There were things she had to do. She grabbed her Beretta and strode into the bedroom. Jeffrey still slept soundly. After placing the weapon into her handbag, she sat down on his side of the bed.

“Jeffrey.” She shook him gently, then turned on the bedside lamp. “Jeffrey, we need to talk.”

She wasn’t entirely sure how she would get him to go along with her plan, but she had to convince him somehow. Both their lives likely depended upon his cooperation. Though at this point she couldn’t say for an absolute certainty whether this was about him or her. He was a research scientist at a top pharmaceutical corporation. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that someone had targeted him for some reason related to his work, government affiliated or not. Still, the involvement of her former identity had her leaning more toward something far less straightforward.

The moment his eyes opened he took note of the time on the alarm clock on the bedside table not twelve inches from his head. “It’s early.” He shifted his groggy attention to Olivia. “Is something wrong? How’s your patient?”

With a weary smile tacked into place, she lied, “He’s stable and thoroughly apologetic for causing the fuss.” Evidently Jeffrey thought she’d only just returned from the hospital. Remnants of the lie she’d just told soured in the back of her throat.

Jeffrey scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Aren’t they always? Did you just get in?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been sitting here for hours thinking.” That part wasn’t entirely untrue.

He eased up onto his elbows and eyed her a bit more closely. “Something is wrong.”

A barely discernible lift of her shoulders gave him the hesitant impression she intended. She knew Jeffrey better on certain levels than she’d ever known any man. She discerned what made him tick, how he would respond in any given situation. The nine months they’d shared, coupled with her extensive training on how to analyze a target, ensured she could read him like the proverbial open book. Though she would definitely categorize him as passive, sensitive, definitely a beta male, he was intensely protective of her feelings.

The quintessential nerd in school, he’d suffered at the hands of bullies during childhood, making him ultrasensitive to the needs of others. Maybe that was one of the reasons she’d been so drawn to him. He was the exact opposite of who and what she had been. Kind, patient, overly considerate even. She was counting on those very qualities right now.

“I think I need to get away.”

Concern stamped out the last remnants of sleepiness in his eyes. “Are you thinking of a change in our relationship?”

He didn’t have to say “breaking up”—she read the dreaded deduction on his face. That would be his initial conclusion. This was Jeffrey’s first live-in arrangement, as well. His lack of experience in the area of relationships was, however, related as much to his dedication to his work as to his being an introvert.

“No. It’s nothing like that. I just need to get away. I guess last night’s episode was the final straw. I’m tired. We haven’t taken a vacation all year. Do you think you could get away for the weekend?”

Relief and no small amount of hope flooded his expression. “I don’t see why not.” He scooted up to a sitting position. “It’s Friday. There isn’t anything on my agenda that can’t wait until Monday. I’m certain they can manage without me for a day.” He smiled, traced the tip of one finger along her cheek. “A restful weekend would be good for both of us.”

Olivia’s relief matched his, though for completely different reasons. “Great. We’ll leave right away.”

His ready agreement set part one of her plan in motion. She told him to pack for a rustic weekend, the location to be a surprise. Jeans, casual shirts and hiking boots. He didn’t question her suggestions. Probably assumed they would escape to Zuma Ridge for hiking or Sullivan Canyon for mountain biking. She hoped he would continue to be so cooperative. The next couple of steps would likely raise his suspicions. But she couldn’t worry about that just now. One step at a time.

Olivia packed for survival, something she hadn’t done in more than three years. She was beginning to hate that number. Suddenly everything in her new life was a reminder of the way things had ended three years ago.

Jeans, cotton Ts and a couple of long-sleeved cotton blouses, emergency items like bottled water and first-aid materials. She went into the closet and got the last clip she had on hand for the Beretta. After clearing the right corner of the back of her closet, she tugged the carpeting loose from its tack bar. The envelope was right where she’d put it three years ago after the new carpet had been laid. Inside the envelope were a passport, driver’s license and two credit cards issued under an alias she had hoped she would never have to use.

She dumped two pairs of shoes from a designer shopping bag, folded the bag neatly and went back into her bedroom. She stashed the cash, the shopping bag and other items in her handbag. Before packing the retainer fee she’d gotten last night, she transferred as much as she could to the various pockets of the clothing she wore and some into her handbag. After a quick search beneath the bathroom sink for a couple of disposable rain ponchos and the pepper spray she’d almost forgotten about, she was good to go.

“I’ve loaded my bag in the Audi.”

Looking up too quickly at the sound of his voice, Olivia cracked her head on the edge of the counter. She hoped like hell her instincts would sharpen as she attempted to keep stride with her former ways. Otherwise they might not even make it out of the city.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take the Saturn?” His lips stretched into a lopsided grin. “It fits with rustic a bit better than the Audi.”

She rubbed at her head and manufactured an answering smile. “Don’t worry. I have a plan for that.”

He eyed her speculatively. “There’s no way I can talk you into sharing our destination?”

She shook her head. “I want to surprise you.”

He moved his shoulders up and down. “Okay. This is your adventure.”

Just keep that attitude, she mused silently.

When her sufficiently sized overnight bag was loaded alongside Jeffrey’s, Olivia slid behind the wheel. She’d already canceled her appointments for the day and Jeffrey had called his assistant.

Olivia kept a close eye on the rearview mirror as she drove to the airport in Burbank. It didn’t take that long, less than an hour. Her companion didn’t question her destination until she entered long-term parking.

“Are we flying? You didn’t mention that.”

She cut him a sidelong look that she hoped came off as seductive and secretive. “You’ll see.”

The amusement glittering in his brown eyes signaled that she had once more alleviated his niggling suspicions. “This is getting more interesting all the time.”

When they entered the airport, luggage in tow, rather than going to a ticket desk, she headed for the Hertz counter. The line wasn’t that long but she dropped her bag on the floor about thirty feet from the counter.

“Do you mind watching the bags while I get the car?”

“Absolutely not.” He held up his hands. “And I won’t even ask why we need a different car.”

Good. He was still happy with the game. As brilliant, albeit shy, as Jeffrey was, he was still a man, and the promise of sex combined with mystery overrode a great deal of common sense.

“Guard those bags,” she ordered with enough suggestion to have him glancing down at her bag in wonder. She’d never met a man yet who didn’t love sexy lingerie. He didn’t need to know that the most important things the bag actually contained were the rest of the cash Soderbaum had given her and another clip for the Beretta. She definitely didn’t want to lose those. She had no idea what she might have to buy or who she might have to bribe before this was over. The shooting part she’d just as soon not think about.

Taking a quick look around, she left Jeffrey with the bags and herded up behind the half dozen other people in the rental car line. The agent on duty didn’t waste time. He moved through the customers quickly enough to impress even Olivia.

When it was her turn, she asked, “What kind of SUV do you have available?”

“Do you have a reservation?”

Olivia shook her head. “I’m hoping that won’t be a problem.”

Studying his computer monitor, he clicked a few keys. “Hmm.” He rubbed his chin. “I have an Explorer. Will that work?”

“Perfect.”

She gave him the driver’s license and credit card for Jill Smart. She signed the paperwork and he instructed her on which shuttle to take to pick up the SUV.

A few minutes later she had the keys to the blue Explorer. Jeffrey commented on the size of the vehicle as they loaded their luggage into the cargo area, then even offered to drive. She knew her luck with his ready cooperation was about to run out.

“I’ll drive. I have to make one more stop before we’re on our way.”

“Breakfast? I’m thinking we’ll both need our energy.” He glanced at his watch. “Stopping for breakfast would give me a chance to check my e-mail for yesterday’s lab results.”

9:00 a.m. She could eat. Funny, she hadn’t thought about food until he brought it up. Maybe falling back into her old persona wasn’t going to be as difficult as she’d first thought. Her focus had gotten a little keener in the last hour or so.

To keep him happy she cruised through a drive-through and took care of both their needs. Even if she had no appetite, she knew she should eat. He was a bit disappointed since he’d had a sit-down breakfast in mind, but her decision hadn’t kept him from pulling out his BlackBerry and checking his cyber inbox.

She took the long way to her next stop in hopes of avoiding more questions, but she should have known that wouldn’t work.

East L.A. wasn’t exactly Brentwood, and no matter what neighborhood she drove through to reach her final destination or Jeffrey’s preoccupation with remote-accessing his files, there was no way to hide the fact that they’d entered a whole different world. One where Doctors Olivia Mills and Jeffrey Scott did not belong.

“Good heavens, Olivia, where are we going now? I thought we were bound for a weekend in the mountains. Please tell me,” he said, his voice teasing, “that you’re only drawing out the foreplay.”

“This won’t take long, Jeffrey, I promise.”

He didn’t look totally convinced but he didn’t put up an argument.

Though it had been years since Olivia had carried a weapon the way most women would a stick of lip gloss, she wasn’t oblivious to the world around her. At times she’d driven through neighborhoods just like this to get a better grasp on where a patient had come from. Just because most of her patients were somewhat affluent now didn’t mean they always had been. A few had clawed their way up from the gutter.

To better understand their way of reasoning, she’d wanted to make herself fully aware of the environment in which they’d grown up. So she wasn’t entirely lost on this side of the city. Certainly she watched the news and read the newspaper; there wasn’t any real question as to where she would find what she needed. The only question was whether she would survive the encounter with those who did the selling.

She parked the SUV in front of a shop she recognized, not from its name but by what she saw in the front display window. Iron bars shielding reinforced glass. Warning signs that a guard dog was on the premises and that neither soliciting nor loitering would be tolerated.

“A pawnshop?”

A civilian would think that. The sign on the window even said so. But Olivia knew better.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Wait.” Jeffrey put his hand on her arm. “I don’t like this, Olivia.” He looked around at the dilapidated and deserted storefronts and the few pedestrians loitering in doorways. “This looks dangerous, even in daylight.”

Unfortunately danger had already found them. He just didn’t know it yet. If he would only stay cool a few more minutes. They were almost out of here. She needed to get him out of this city. She needed to contact Hamilton as quickly as possible. Time was their enemy.

More lies. “Don’t worry, Jeffrey. The man who owns this shop is a relative of the patient I was with last night. I just need to make sure he knows to stop in the hospital and check on his cousin. Family is very important during a crisis. I’ll only be a minute.”

He reached for the door handle. “I’ll go with you then. I certainly don’t want you going into a place like this alone.”

Damn. Not good. “Look, Jeffrey, this guy is skittish, as you might imagine.” The determination in those brown eyes told her that wasn’t going to be a good enough answer. “Bottom line—” she punted “—it comes down to doctor-patient privilege. I can’t really talk about the case in front of you. I’m certain you understand.”

That he understood. But he still didn’t like it. He surveyed the street again. “I’d feel more comfortable if you didn’t go in. Wouldn’t a phone call suffice?”

“I promised my patient I’d go see his relative personally. It’ll only take a moment.” She leaned forward and glanced first one way then the other. “Besides, I’m not so sure it would be a good idea to leave the vehicle unattended in this neighborhood.”

A sigh hissed past his lips. “I suppose you’re right. But—” he looked directly at her “—for the record, I don’t like this.”

She squeezed his hand. “I promise I’ll make up for putting you through this.”

He shook his head in defeat though a smile toyed with the corner of his mouth. “All right, you win, but be careful. I’ll be watching the door. If any hooligans go in after you, I’m coming in.”

“Good idea.” Olivia grabbed her handbag and climbed out. “I’ll be back in five minutes tops.” She noted the hooligans he referred to as she strode quickly to the shop entrance. Five, possibly six young men. If the city was open for business, so were they. Gang members probably, judging by their appearance. She’d parked almost directly in front of the entrance. She should be able to keep an eye on things out here and still do her business. She’d rather have taken Jeffrey inside with her, but she couldn’t do this with him there. He would definitely freak. She needed him far, far out of his comfort zone before she allowed him reason to give her trouble about her decisions.

The owner looked up as the bell above the door jingled. Olivia took a moment to glance back at Jeffrey, then performed a final swift visual sweep of the street. The handful of characters keeping the sidewalk from being totally deserted looked exactly like trouble, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

“This ain’t the Salvation Army.”

Olivia turned to the shop owner who’d spoken. A comedian. Great. She walked to the counter. “I need to preview your arms.”

He laughed and held out his tattooed limbs for her perusal. “Whatever gets you wet, honey. I have another limb that’s inked, too, if you’d like to see it.”

“Your firearms,” she clarified. If he’d had any question about her seriousness, the lethal stare she turned on was ample answer.

“You got a reference?” He looked uneasy now. Uncertain whether to provide the requested service, not quite sure he wanted to risk turning her down. California gun laws were some of the strictest in the nation, including a ten-day waiting period to buy a firearm. His guardedness was understandable.

She plopped her handbag on the counter. “You see this Louis Vuitton? Three grand.” She held up her right hand. “You don’t even want to know what this Rolex set me back.”

He didn’t look impressed or convinced.

“I have money to spend, my friend, a lot of money. Now, are we going to do business or do I need to go to the next block?”

He sent an anxious look at the door. “You could be a cop.”

“Please.” She grabbed her bag and hefted it onto her shoulder. “I don’t have time for this shit. Show me what you’ve got.”

Another glance at the door. “I’ll have to lock up and you’ll have to go in the back with me.”

“No way. Give me a description of your inventory. Better yet, I’ll tell you what I want. You can bring it out to me in this bag.” She reached into her handbag and retrieved the carefully folded shopping bag.

The owner made a choking sound that might have been a laugh. “You want me to fill your Neiman Marcus bag with guns?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

All signs of amusement disappeared. “How do I know you have cash?”

She took the wad of cash she had in the right pocket of her jeans and smacked it onto the counter. “I need ammo for my 9mm Beretta. Binoculars, a hunting knife and maybe a .32 for backup. Oh, and I’ll need some metal handcuffs if you have them.”

He nodded, still a little uncomfortable with the transaction. “Need any night vision?”

Her spirits lifted. Definitely. “How much?”

“Three more on top of what’s on the counter and I’ll set you up with everything you’ve asked for.”

Left-pocket contents as well as what was in her handbag joined the twenties on the counter. “That’s as good as it gets.” She’d just dropped nearly four grand on his battered counter. He’d have to be happy with that.

All signs of uneasiness were gone now, replaced by greed and hunger. He reached for the cash as well as her shopping bag. “Three minutes is all I’ll need.”

She held on to the bag a moment before letting it go. “Three minutes is all you’ll have if you try to fuck with me.” The tone was all Sheara…one she hadn’t used in a very long time.

The owner nodded and rushed to the back of his shop, the Neiman Marcus bag in hand.

Olivia moved to the door and checked on Jeffrey. No one appeared to have approached the SUV.

Once they were out of this town she would breathe a lot easier.

In less time than he’d proposed, the shop owner returned from his pilgrimage to the back of the store. He’d hardly made a sound, but she’d heard him. Her old instincts weren’t gone for good.

“Everything you asked for.” Careful to support the bottom of the bag, he settled it onto the counter. “You should take your stuff and go. Now.”

She approached the counter. “As soon as I’ve inspected everything.”

The muscles of his throat worked as he struggled to swallow. “Suit yourself.”

The .32 was brand-new. Plenty of ammo. Binoculars, good ones. The handcuffs jingled as she picked them up. “Keys?”

He nodded. “In the bag. Seriously, lady, you gotta get outta here.”

“In a minute.” She dropped the cuffs into the sack and reached for the coup de grâce, the night vision. Military. Seriously illegal but the best on the market.

“Excellent.” She hefted the bag into her arms.

Neither of them spoke as she exited the shop. No “come again” or “thanks for shopping with us” followed her out the door. But she hadn’t expected either.

She hit the remote unlock button and deposited her purchases on the floorboard behind the driver’s seat.

“I was beginning to get worried.” Jeffrey looked relieved that she’d returned to the vehicle. One glance at the guys still hanging out on the sidewalk a little farther up the block had him urging her to hurry. “Olivia, I think you should get in now so we can get out of here.”

She closed the back door and climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’m in. I did a little shopping while I was in there.”

Too engrossed in what might happen next, Jeffrey didn’t comment on the idea that she’d shopped in such a place. He depressed the lock button and heaved a relieved breath. “I feel immensely better now.”

It appeared he might have spoken too soon. As she started the engine two of the men from up the block pushed off the wall they’d been supporting and headed her way.

“Olivia, where’s that pepper spray you carry?” Jeffrey braced one hand against the dash and reached toward her purse with the other.

She grabbed his hand before it reached its destination. “Let’s just get out of here.” After a quick glance in the rearview mirror, she shifted into Reverse and floored the accelerator.

The Explorer lunged backward. She didn’t slow down until she’d reached the end of the block. She shifted into drive with a jerk and executed a U-turn in the middle of the street. Her foot slammed back onto the accelerator and they headed away from the jerks who had stopped chasing them and now stared after the Explorer.

It would have been difficult to say whether the guys simply wanted to have a good laugh by scaring them or if they’d intended more. No point hanging around to see. Her money was on the former. It was the perfect setup. Let the pawnshop owner sell the goods, then steal them back. He could sell the same items over and over. Who was going to report him? Certainly not those, like her, desperate enough to buy weapons illegally.

“That was…” Jeffrey twisted around in his seat, the safety belt restricting his movements, to verify that they weren’t being followed. “Amazing. I’ve never seen anyone back up that far—at that speed—without crashing!” He craned his head to the right and then to the left as if she’d given him whiplash while accomplishing the feat he’d just witnessed with such admiration. “I’ll never again doubt your ability to get out of a sticky situation.”

“I only knew I had to get out of there.”

Yet another lie. She’d had extensive training in just that sort of maneuver in her former life.

Jeffrey chuckled. “I guess we’re just lucky you had the presence of mind to think of it, much less do it.”

She made a noncommittal sound. Luck had nothing to do with their survival thus far, but she would take all the good fortune fate decided to toss her way.

“At least we can breathe easy now,” he said as they took an exit to the freeway. “We’re out of the woods.”

He just didn’t know. They were far from out of the woods. The real trouble hadn’t even started yet.

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