Chapter 19



Paolo propelled Natalie toward the bedroom to the left of the sitting area. "Go. I'll be ready in ten minutes."


"Lucky you," she answered over her shoulder. She shuffled into the bedroom and dropped her purse on the bed. The wide bed and the fluffy pillows looked so inviting, but she knew if she sat down for five seconds it would be lights out. She sighed heavily and stumbled into the bathroom.


She turned the hot water in the shower to full-blast and dropped her clothes in a heap on the cool tile floor. She stepped in and let the water pound her tired muscles. This was the absolute worst day of her life.


Maybe if I stand here long enough the water will wash every thought from my mind.


She rested her forehead against the tile and closed her eyes.


**


Twelve minutes later, Paolo was showered and dressed. From the sitting area he could hear the shower running in Natalie's room. There was no rush really. Restaurants were open late and he didn't begrudge Natalie some time to unwind. It had been a stressful day for both of them. He opened his laptop and decided to check e-mail.


Twenty-five minutes later Natalie had yet to appear. No water was running and he didn't hear her moving around the bedroom. He stepped to the door and knocked lightly. There was no answer. "Natalie?" Still nothing. He went to the bathroom and pushed the door open. Steam rushed out at him.


"Not good," he mumbled and shook his head. Clad in only a pale blue bra and panty set, Natalie had her head down on the vanity and was sound asleep, her right hand clutching a comb. While her lingerie was less revealing than many swimsuits he'd seen, he was nevertheless assaulted by a wave of lust. No doubt about it, she was beautiful! His primal instinct urged him to scoop her up, throw her down on the nearest bed and devour her.


"Shit." He blew out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. He approached and gently shook her shoulder. "Natalie."

Her head snapped up. "What? Where am . . . oh. Guess I dropped off for a minute. Sorry."

"It's okay. If you'd rather stay in, I can call room service."

"No, no. Five minutes. I promise I'll be ready."

"Take your time," Paolo said. Reluctantly, he removed his hand, but couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from all that smooth, tanned skin. Her chest rose, drawing his attention to her pert breasts. Suddenly, he wanted to rip off that little bit of satin and touch her.

Finally, he turned to leave before he said or did something impulsive. "I'll be out here when you're ready."

He returned to the sitting room and mentally cursed himself for not insisting on separate rooms. Having her this close was almost more temptation than a man could bear. On the other hand, she was a federal witness and his responsibility until they were back in the states. He sat down at the table and looked at his e-mail again. Nothing jumped out at him so he closed the laptop. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled. He'd had nothing to eat except a less-than-appetizing airline meal all day.

Food. That's what we need. Even as the thought formed, he wasn't sure that would cure all his hunger.

**
What just happened? Natalie wondered. The way Paolo had looked at her was both scary and thrilling at the same time. He kept staring at her, assessing her. She massaged her forehead as if to banish the disturbing thoughts. Gotta get a move on.

She hurried into the bedroom, pulled out a pair of black slacks and a purple top, threw them on, and ran the comb through her still wet hair.

**

Five minutes later, they were in the lobby. "The concierge recommended a place about a ten-minute walk from here. Are you up for that?"

"Sure. I feel like I could eat a horse right now," sighed Natalie.

Paolo chuckled. "I'm glad you're not one of those women who picks at a salad."

"Never. I love to eat."

"Then let's go."

The lobby doors whooshed open and they stepped into the warm Prague evening. The sidewalks were crowded with people looking for just the right café or bar in which to have a good time. Natalie was aware of Paolo's hand at the small of her back, guiding her along. She noticed several other women casting flirtatious looks at Paolo, but he ignored them. Before long, they turned down a side street and found the restaurant, Chez Franz.

It was a small, but lively family-run place and in a matter of minutes they were seated at a booth near the back. Paolo took the side facing the front door, as his FBI training dictated.

"You want to see them coming?" asked Natalie.

"Who?"

"You don't fool me. Any bad guys who might be following us."

Paolo gave a small smile. "Something like that." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Are you afraid?"

"Not at all. In fact, I feel very, what can I say, liberated after unloading on Jeff the jackass today." She frowned slightly. "But I don't want to talk about Jeff or think about Jeff or even hear his name. It's over."

Around them, couples and families laughed and talked. Someone began singing "Happy Birthday" at a table on the other side of the restaurant. But in their secluded booth, Paolo felt like he and Natalie were the only ones present. "Fair enough. You've been through a hell of a lot. Why don't we concentrate on this menu instead?"

"Great idea. How about some wine?" asked Natalie.

Paolo summoned the waiter and gave their orders. In a moment, he returned with a bottle of red wine and filled their glasses. Natalie took a huge swallow, then another. Paolo touched her hand. "Pace yourself. The food's not even here yet."

Natalie smirked. "I'm fine. Just thirsty." She set the glass down. "Since you know all about me and my troubles, let's talk about you for a change. Back in high school, everyone said your family was in the Mafia."

"Everyone? Is that what you thought?"

"I'm the one asking the questions now," scolded Natalie.

Paolo feigned surrender. "As you wish. No, my family was not involved with the Mafia. But that was a constant threat to our businesses. I was a wild kid, always in trouble. Oh, my brothers weren't angels either, but they didn't seem to get caught as much. That's why my father decided to send me abroad for a while. After I settled down and applied myself, the family came over for an extended visit. They liked it here and saw there were opportunities for growth so they packed up and moved. We haven't looked back."

"And the FBI?"

"They approached me and it sounded better than being holed up in some law office."

"No regrets?"

"None professionally."

The waiter arrived with their food and Natalie's questioning ceased for a time. They focused on the excellent food in front of them. But then Natalie piped up again. "Any personal regrets?"

Paolo studied the wine in his glass, then he met her eyes. "Yes. And that's all I'm going to say about that."

Natalie touched her glass to his. "Touché." After an awkward silence, the talk turned to other subjects. Eventually, they realized they were the last patrons in the restaurant. "We should go back," said Paolo. He called the waiter and settled the bill.

The crowds in the street had thinned and the air was cooler. When they reached the hotel, Natalie was giggling about something and twisted her ankle as they walked toward the elevator. Paolo caught her before she fell. "Are you okay?"

"I'm wonderful," she announced.

"You're drunk."

"So what? I feel better than I've felt in a long time."

Paolo bundled her into the elevator and pressed the button for their floor. "At least you're not a mean drunk."

"Mean? No, I'm very nice," she giggled.

Paolo swiped the key card and opened the door. One of Natalie's heels snapped, throwing her off balance and straight into Paolo's arms. "Eeoww!"

"Did you have to wear these shoes? The heel is as high as the Eiffel Tower."

"They're cute and sexy," protested Natalie. She looped her arms around Paolo's neck.

He backed her against the door and stared down at her. "That's not the only thing that's cute and sexy," he said in a low voice.

"Shut up and kiss me!"

Paolo didn't wait for a second invitation. He leaned down and covered her mouth with his own. Natalie moaned and pressed her body closer.

After what seemed like an eternity, Paolo broke the kiss. "We shouldn't do this."

"Why not?" asked Natalie. "You don't want me?"

"Oh, I want you, all right. But I'm responsible for you until we get home."

Natalie clutched the lapels of his jacket and pouted. "I don't want you to be responstible for me. I want you to make love to me!"

Paolo closed his eyes. Common sense versus lust. The age-old battle. Why did the right thing have to be so different from what he really wanted? He should simply march her into her room, lock the door, and then take a cold shower. But he knew that would never happen. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Are you sure? Because if we do this, there's no going back. You're mine. I won't share you with another man, even if he is your husband."

Even in her state of inebriation, Natalie recognized that Paolo was giving her an out. He was being a gentleman. It seemed like a quaint, old-fashioned term and one she would never have applied to the man standing in front of her. But somehow it made her want him that much more.

She began pushing his jacket off his shoulders. "I'm positive. Now are we going to stand around all night?"

Before things got too out of control, Paolo reached behind Natalie to lock the door. His jacket fell to the floor. He grabbed the hem of Natalie's top and whisked it over her head. Shoes and belts landed on the floor as they stumbled and kissed their way toward Paolo's room. He shed his shoulder rig on the couch before sweeping Natalie up and carrying her to his bed.

They fell down together. Natalie fumbled with his shirt buttons while he released the front clasp of her bra. Her breasts tumbled out. "Ah, cara. You are beautiful."

In seconds, the rest of their clothes were stripped away and they were naked in each other's arms. Everything beyond that room - every lie, every disappointment, every betrayal - was forgotten.

Chapter 18


Natalie awoke from her nap, cold and disoriented. The airline blanket had slipped off her shoulders and bunched in her lap. The gunshot wound on her left arm throbbed. She rubbed it absently while studying the man beside her. The laptop was closed, as were his eyes. She assumed he was asleep.

His square jaw was darkened by stubble, giving him a slightly dangerous air. Who am I kidding? He is a dangerous man. He boarded an international flight with two weapons on his person. That air marshal barely glanced when he declared them at the gate. Who knows what he has in his carry-on.

Natalie shuddered. Paolo had turned out to be a more complex man than she would ever have imagined. He was honest, hardworking and dedicated to his career and close to his family. Certainly more than she could say of her fugitive husband.

Paolo exuded confidence and charm, not to mention sensuality. He was the kind of man women wanted to know better and other men could never hope to equal.

She leaned over to retrieve the antibiotic ointment from her purse. It was hours before they would reach Prague. Might as well try to get comfortable and go back to sleep.

She was fumbling with the cap when a hand reached across her and took the tube. "Let me help you." Paolo squirted some ointment on her arm. Natalie winced as he slowly massaged it in.

"It'll get better."

"I thought you were asleep," she mumbled. She was fascinated by his long fingers working on her arm.

He gave a little smirk. "I always keep one eye open."

She looked up and was held captive by hi's hypnotic blue eyes. Her mouth went dry as she forgot about the stinging in her arm. Paolo trailed his fingers down her bare arm, raising more goosebumps. He picked up her left hand and rubbed the tan line where her wedding rings were noticeably absent.

"Where's your rock?"

"I was cleaning the bathroom when you barged in. Then you hustled me out before I remembered my rings. Why would you notice that?"

"It's my job. Watch people, observe behavior, catalogue details. However small."

Natalie regarded him for a moment. "Is that what I am? A job?"

Paolo didn't respond, but kept holding her hand.

"What else do you observe about me?" She wasn't sure she wanted to know. He might say she had bad judgment, that she'd made a huge mistake in marrying Jeff or that she was stubborn and opinionated. She reached up with her other hand to stifle a yawn.

"You need to rest. We hit the ground running when we land." He lifted the armrest between them. "You can stretch out here and I'll move over there." He indicated the empty seats across the aisle.

Natalie did as he suggested and he tucked the blanket around her. She glanced up at him, her eyelids heavy. "Don't go too far."

"Never, cara." He pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

Paolo moved across the aisle with his laptop. He watched Natalie for several minutes. Finally, he opened the computer to check for updates from Miami. Sure enough, one was there. He opened it and a picture popped up.

From your description, we believe the man is Mtumbo Sobanji, forty-seven-year-old Nigerian national who's lived in the US for the past twenty years. Came over on a student visa and never left. Runs a construction business and a couple of restaurants in Miami with his brother and cousin. Had some tax problems five years ago. Appears clean on the surface, but the cousin was involved in an identity theft ring at one point. Eight months ago Sobanji took out a business loan from Jeffrey Jernigan's bank.

Paolo skimmed over the rest. No doubt Sobanji was the mastermind of the identity theft ring. Jernigan was supplying him with info and when he didn't deliver, Sobanji arranged the break-in at Natalie's to try and retrieve it. Somehow Sobanji had followed them to the airport and managed to get on the same flight.

Paolo thought back over their arrival at the airport. It was so crowded there was no way he could do a thorough surveillance. His goal had been to make this flight. Sobanji probably had lookouts at the airport who alerted him when he and Natalie arrived.

He replied to Miami:

Distraction needed to get Mrs. Jernigan away from airport.

He watched Natalie until a soft ding announced a new message fifteen minutes later.

Czech Secret Service will escort you to Interpol office. Sobanji will be detained at Customs. Some passport and/or visa problems will be uncovered.

Paolo breathed a sigh of relief and forwarded the info to Chuck He knew the marshal would check his e-mail before the flight landed.

**
Prague-Ruzyne Airport

The long flight landed without incident. Paolo glanced toward the front of the plane. "This'll take awhile." People leapt up from their seats and opened the overhead bins. Cell phones were pressed to ears and the noise level increased. Chuck caught his eye and nodded as he retrieved his bag. Sobanji was already on his cell and took on notice.

Finally, passengers began moving toward the front of the jet. Paolo and Natalie hung back until only the flight crew remained. Chuck was waiting for them in the forward galley and the three of them entered the jetway. When they reached Customs, they saw Sobanji waving his arms wildly. Two Customs officials pulled him from line and escorted him down a short hallway. Paolo and Chuck exchanged a satisfied smile.

"What was that for?" asked Natalie. "Are you guys happy to be in the Czech Republic?"

"Someone's cranky this morning," said Paolo. "Are you like this every morning?"

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"A problem was averted."

Natalie frowned. "Hmm . . . sounds like government double-speak."

"You'll feel like yourself once you get some caffeine in your system."

"Whatever. Can we just get on with this shit?"

An intimidating man with a "Chief Inspector" name tag steered them down a long corridor and into an elevator marked "Private." "This opens into the underground garage. Interpol and the Czech Secret Service are waiting for you."

A chill ran up Natalie's spine. The man's tone made it sound like she was the suspect. She blew out a sigh. Nausea and dizziness threatened to swamp her. She clutched at Paolo's arm. "I'm scared," she whispered.

"Don't lose it now. In a few hours this will be over." Paolo had received an e-mail confirming that tonight, or tomorrow at the latest, Jeff was being extradited to Berlin. German justice was swifter than the American legal system. The evidence against him was irrefutable and Jeffrey Jernigan might never set foot in the United States again. Paolo thought it best not to reveal that to Natalie. She was an emotional basket-case.

**

Interpol office, Prague

"What are we waiting for?" asked Natalie. She wrapped her hands around a large cup of coffee that an efficient secretary had placed on the table in front of her.

"They're bringing him up now," said Paolo.

The door on the other side of the one-way mirror opened and Jeffrey Jernigan shuffled in, accompanied by an armed guard. He was clad in a blue jumpsuit and his hands and feet were shackled. The guard pulled out the chair and motioned for him to sit at the table.

"Jeff!" gasped Natalie. She stared sadly and shook her head. "I can't believe it's come to this."

Two large, hairy agents who resembled gorillas came in and sat down. They began asking questions, but Jeff either said nothing or gave some sarcastic answer. He even laughed a couple of times.

Natalie's expression changed from sadness to utter disbelief. "This is not the man I married. This is a total stranger."

Eventually, the agents gave up and left the room. Jeff turned toward the window and smirked.

"I am NOT believing this. I'd like to shake some sense into that man!"

"Don't worry. You're up next," said Paolo. He had already coached Natalie on possible ways to approach Jeff that might elicit information.

Natalie stared coldly at Paolo. "Bring it on."

**

A second armed guard opened the door and followed Natalie into the room. He took up a position behind her while the other guard stood by the door.

"Natalie!" Clearly, Jernigan was surprised by this tactic. He tried to stand up.

"SIT DOWN!" barked the guards and drew their weapons. "You are not to approach her."

"She's my wife!" protested Jeff.

SMACK! Natalie slapped Jeff across the face. Jeff was stunned and so was Paolo in the other room. "I did not tell her to do that," he told the officials.

"What the hell have you done? Have you lost your mind? You're sitting here being a smart ass when you're being charged with murder! Oh, and let's not forget the identity theft and all your other sins. Do you understand the trouble you're in here and at home? Well, do you?" she demanded.

Adrenaline and far too much caffeine had Natalie wound to a fever pitch. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself? You had a good job. We had a good life. But you threw it all away! I guess being a bank vice-president wasn't enough for you."

Natalie paused, but Jeff said nothing. He hung his head and actually appeared contrite. Frustrated, Natalie slammed her fist on the table. "ANSWER ME!"

Jeff looked up and noticed the bandage on her arm. "Oh yeah, let me tell you about my arm. Thugs broke into our house looking for something YOU stole and I got shot in the process. That's been a real picnic. And I had to take a leave-of-absence from work to try to help the FBI figure out what the hell you're doing."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. Things, well, things got out of control. I did this for us, Natalie. So we could retire early and travel, do all the things you wanted to do."

"LIES, ALL LIES! You did this for YOU. You are a greedy, selfish, arrogant bastard!"

Natalie waited to see if, or how, Jeff might respond. She glared angrily at him. "Oh, Mr. Big Talker has nothing to say? Well, I have this to say. You are a sorry excuse for a husband. Thank God I didn't have kids with you. I would hate for my child to have a murderer and a cheat for a father!"

**

The interrogations went on for hours. In the end, Jeff gave up some details, but overall showed little remorse for his crime spree.

"Could I see my wife again?" he asked.

The agent got up and left the room. He came to where Natalie and Paolo were and looked to Natalie for her answer.

"There's nothing left to say."

"Mrs. Jernigan, please understand that he's being flown to Berlin tonight. It might be a long time before you could see him again."

"I understand. I never want to see him again. He deserves everything coming to him."

When the agent told Jeff, he looked at the window, but his expression was blank.

**

Marriott Hotel, Prague

"I'm sorry, sir. Two single rooms were not available, so we upgraded you to a suite on the tenth floor. Here are your key cards. Elevators are to your left."

"Thank you. What are the restaurants in this area?"

The smiling clerk reached under the counter for a pamphlet. Paolo glanced to the lobby where Natalie sat immobile in an overstuffed chair. It had been a hell of a day for her.

Paolo thanked the clerk and went over to Natalie. "Come on. Let's go upstairs." Natalie stood and numbly followed him to the elevators. When they exited on the tenth floor she asked, "Which one am I in?"

Paolo hesitated. "We're together."

Natalie gave him a surprised look. "What?"

"It's a suite. Two bedrooms, sitting area in between."

"Oh."

"Here it is." Paolo opened the door and stood aside for her to enter.

"I'm so tired I can't think straight," said Natalie.

"You need food. All you've had today is about ten cups of coffee and a couple of sodas."

"Gee, thanks for reminding me. Now I need to pee again."

"Why don't we shower, change clothes, and then find something to eat?"

"Fine. If I'm not out in twenty minutes, I may be asleep."

Chapter 17



"We're going where?" Natalie stood in her open front door, a stunned look on her face.

"Prague. And we don't have much time. If you don't believe me, you can call my boss," said Paolo. He held out his cell phone. "But that would royally piss him off."

"No, I believe you. It's just . . I don't know. I'm shocked. Is Jeff okay?"

Mentally, Paolo cringed. "Fine. But he's not talking."

She looked so confused and vulnerable. Paolo wanted to draw her into his arms and comfort her.

"Come on. We're on a tight schedule." Paolo pushed past Natalie and closed the door. She seemed rooted to her spot in the foyer, staring at the tile.

Paolo grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look up at him. "Natalie! Get a grip. We'll get
through this together, okay?"

"Yeah."

He took her hand and pulled her down the hall toward the bedroom. "Do you have a small carry-on?"

"In the guest room closet."

"Bring enough clothes for several days."

** Miami International Airport

"This is the final boarding call for Lufthansa flight 4253, nonstop service to Prague, at Gate 32. Please have your ticket and boarding pass out and ready for the gate attendant."

Paolo and Natalie sprinted to the gate, the last passengers to arrive. A guy resembling a pro football player paced back and forth. He had a cell phone to his ear and repeatedly looked at his watch . When he saw Paolo and Natalie, he snapped the phone shut and scowled.

"Sabbatini?"

Paolo handed the air marshal their passports. "Sorry. There was a big wreck on the expressway."

"Chuck Coleman." The marshal examined the passports, nodded, and returned them to Paolo. "Shake a leg. The pilot's busting my balls to close the door."

They hustled down the jetway and onto the plane. Chuck took a seat in the middle of the plane and Paolo and Natalie made their way to seats near the back. Natalie took the window seat and Paolo dropped into the aisle seat after stowing their carry-ons in the overhead bin.

"Will it ever end?" sighed Natalie. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Paolo glanced at her. Thank goodness she'd changed from her tank top and shorts into jeans and a blouse. He would have hated to be distracted by all that smooth, exposed skin on this ten-hour overnight flight.

In the galley behind them, a tray crashed to the floor. Natalie's eyes flew open and held his gaze.

"I have to be honest. It's going to be a long, painful process. As much as the FBI wants to get their hands on him, murder charges take precedence over identity theft and embezzlement. Once the Germans have him, they won't let go."

"He really killed those people? They have proof?"

Even now, Paolo realized she was trying to find something redeeming in this whole sad affair. Maybe that was how it was when you loved someone. The thought disturbed him on some level he couldn't explain at the moment.

"He tried to cover his tracks, but one print was lifted from the inside of Monika Sterne's purse. It was Jeff's."

Natalie turned to look out the window, but not before a single tear escaped from the corner of her eye.

** Two hours later

Dinner was over and the cabin lights had been dimmed. Some passengers were engrossed in the movie while others tried to get comfortable enough to sleep. Natalie was turned toward the window, apparently not wanting to talk anymore. Paolo checked e-mail on his laptop. Chuck had been by once on his way to the bathroom. The two men nodded slightly at each other.

Now another passenger moved down the aisle. A large black man in a business suit. This was the third time he'd been to the back of the plane. Each time he made eye contact with Paolo.

Something was not right. Paolo thought about the Ten Most Wanted list, but this guy was not on it.

Natalie stirred. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Now?"

She frowned. "Yes, now. Is that a problem?"

"No problem." Paolo closed his laptop and stood to let her out. He rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension and kept his eyes toward the bathrooms.

A door opened and the mystery man exited. Paolo pretended to need an item from the overhead bin as the man returned to his seat. He noted where he was sitting - right across from the air marshal. There was no way he could talk to Chuck without arousing the man's suspicion. He would have to e-mail Miami with a description to see if anything turned up on him.

Another five minutes passed and Natalie was still in the bathroom. Paolo went and tapped lightly on the door.

A flight attendant approached him. "Is your girlfriend ill? She looked rather pale."

"She's not - the words my girlfriend almost slipped out - a good flier. Bad stomach."

The flight attendant smiled. "My husband has the same problem. Perhaps some ginger ale would help." She opened a drawer and pulled out a cold can.

"Thank you." Then Paolo had an idea. "Could you do me a favor?"

**

"Here's your Diet Coke, sir," said the flight attendant.

Chuck Coleman looked up from his hunting and fishing magazine. "But I didn't order . . ."

The flight attendant leaned down and whispered, "From the gentleman in seat 65."

Chuck saw a piece of paper sticking out of the napkin and nodded. "Thanks. I was getting kinda thirsty."

Chapter 16 - Prague, Czech Republic

"May I help you, sir?"

"Checking in. Name's Gary Franklin."

"One moment, please." The clerk, a middle-aged man in a conservative black suit, consulted his computer screen. Jeff tried nonchalantly to scan the guests moving through the chrome-and-glass lobby of the upscale hotel that catered to business travelers.

A slight frown marred the clerk's face. Was there a problem with the name he'd given? He was using the fake passport he'd lifted off Monika Sterne.

"Ah, yes. Here we go." The clerk ripped a form from the printer underneath the desk and slid it toward Jeff. "If you would just sign here, Mr. Franklin. Your room is ready."

With great concentration, Jeff signed the registration form, attempting to disguise his handwriting.

"Very good, sir. Here is your key card. Is there anything else I can do for you?" The clerk smiled warmly.

"Uh, yes. Has a Mr. Kurt Adamson checked in yet? He's a business associate."

The clerk again consulted the computer. "I'm afraid not, sir. Would you care to leave a message for Mr. Adamson?"

"No . . . thanks. I'll catch up with him later." Jeff picked up his bag and moved toward the bank of elevators. He entered the elevator and noted that the man continued to stare at him. A sudden wave of apprehension washed over him. In his gut he knew something was wrong. Either Kurt was detained - his mind flashed back to the accident scene - or he'd reneged on their plan.

Jeff ran the back of his hand over his perspiring forehead. Startled, he saw that the cheap black dye job he'd done on his hair was rubbing off. Fifty kilometers outside Prague, he'd abandoned his rental car at a Eurail station. He found a pharmacy in the village and bought a package of women's hair dye. The teenage girl working the counter sported purple hair so she didn't seem to find his purchase unusual. He walked back to the train station, applied the dye in the bathroom, and took the train into Prague.

The elevator opened on the tenth floor. An elderly couple waiting to get on gave him a wary glance. The woman mumbled something to the man who looked more sharply at him.

Once inside the room, Jeff pulled out his cell phone and tried Kurt's number. It rang and rang and rang. Finally, someone answered. "Hello."

Jeff froze in shock. It was not Kurt, but a man with a gruff American accent.

"Jeffrey Jernigan?"

Jeff dropped the phone on the carpet and stomped on it. "Shit!" He went to the tall windows beside the bed and pushed aside the drapes. The room overlooked a verdant city park. People lounged on benches or strolled among the well-tended flower beds. There was no obvious signs of police presence, but someone was onto him.

The room suddenly felt too small and too hot despite the air conditioning. Jeff found a cap in his bag touting the Czech national soccer team and slapped it on his head. He picked up the ruined phone and slipped it in his pocket. He would dispose of it somewhere outside. Right now he had to get out of this room and think.

** Miami

"Sabbatini, talk to me."

Paolo's boss, Cyril Greene, motioned him into his cluttered office. He rubbed his upper chest. "Claudia, where are my damn heart pills?" he bellowed at his executive assistant through the open door.

"Top right-hand drawer."

Greene yanked it open, rummaged around until he located the pills, then popped two in his mouth.

"You're only supposed to take one at a time, chided Claudia as she handed him a cup of water.

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one having this infernal pain."

She exchanged a look with Paolo as she walked out. "Let me know if I need to call 911."

Paolo opened a folder and placed it in front of Greene. "You sure you're okay, sir?"

"I will be as soon as those pills kick in. Now, what's all this?"

"Info downloaded from the flash drive recovered at the Jernigan residence. Bank and investment records, family info, even some medical records with some rather sensitive details of prominent Miami citizens. They are all clients of Jeffrey Jernigan's bank."

"Excellent. Now if we could only get our hands on that snake. I swear, if it's the last thing I do I'm gonna nail that son-of-a-bitch. He's the reason my second wife divorced me."

Claudia stuck her head in the door. "Excuse me, there's a call on line one from the Interpol office in Prague."

Greene grabbed the phone and barked, "Cyril Greene."

Paolo stood up to leave, but Greene waved him down. After five minutes, Greene ended the call. "Well, I'll be damned. Jernigan was apprehended at an ATM in Prague shortly after checking into a hotel under an assumed name. And he was carrying the gun believed to have killed the Sterne woman."

Paolo shook his head. "It's about time."

Greene slapped the top of his desk. "Damn straight! But there's a problem. He'll be extraditied to Germany in a few days to be questioned in the Sterne case. So far, he's said nothing. Clammed up tighter than Fort Knox. The only way we'll get any answers is to have a face-to-face with the slippery Mr. Jeffrey Jernigan. Your passport current, Sabbatini?"

Greene knew damn well it was. It was a requirement for federal agents. "It's locked in my desk."

"Good, good. You'll take the wife with you. Let her have a go at him, you know, the 'wrath of a woman scorned.' Hell, I should know. Now let me make some arrangements." He picked up the phone and punched in a number.

Paolo schooled his face not to show the shock he felt. Take Natalie to Prague? This could be a huge mess.

"I need to get a man and a woman on a plane to Prague tonight." There was a pause. "No, they're not in body bags, you moron! One of my high-profile fugitives was nabbed and they're going to question him." Greene grabbed a pen and scribbled info on a post-it note. "That's more like it. Right. Got it."

He handed it to Paolo. "Confirmation numbers. Be at the Lufthansa counter at Miami International in ninety minutes. An air marshal will meet you there."

"I want answers from that piece-of-shit Jernigan."

Chapter 15

The elevator doors dinged open and Paolo and Natalie stepped into a dimly lit hallway. It was eerily quiet. Like a tomb. Natalie felt like she was being buried alive under a mountain of threats, suspicions, and innuendo.

She swallowed nervously and wiped her sweaty palms against her shorts. They walked to the end of the hall and turned left. Paolo stopped in front of room fifteen. He produced a set of keys and opened the door.

"You have fifteen of these rooms?" asked Natalie, her eyes darting around.

"We have a total of twenty. Sometimes we have a lot of bad people on hand."

The room was as dimly lit as the hallway. But through the one-way glass Natalie saw a prisoner in a fluorescent orange jumpsuit. He lay on a hard concrete bench built into the wall.

Paolo activated the microphone. "Adamson, stand up and face the window."

The prisoner swung his legs off the bench and stood. He slowly stretched and yawned as if waking up from a siesta on a tropical island.

"What is it? Feeding time at the zoo?" he sneered.

Natalie stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. "Oh . . . my . . . God. He looke just like Jeff. Maybe a bit taller." She continued to stare in disbelief.

"Kurt Adamson. Extradited yesterday, courtesy of the German Federal Police. Those cuts on his face and arms are from a car crash near the Czech border. He had no ID on him and was transported unconscious to a local hospital and fingerprinted. Imagine the authorities' surprise when he popped up on Interpol's list."

"And they thought it was Jeff," said Natalie.

"Correct. It was about the same time our people uncovered the existence of Jeff's twin brother."

Natalie sank dejected into a nearby chair. "But why didn't Jeff ever tell me about his brother?"

"There's no evidence to suggest that Jeff's adoptive parents even knew about the sibling. According to the court records, the birth mother was an alcoholic, in and out of rehab. She gave up Adamson in a private adoption. Apparently, she thought she could care for one baby, but not two. When that didn't work out, she went to another adoption agency and arranged another private adoption, hoping for more money than she received in the first one."

"How sad," said Natalie.

"It appears the adoptive parents in both cases were so eager for a baby that they didn't ask a lot of questions. Unfortunately, it happens in a lot of situations. We surmise that sometime in the last two to three years the brothers somehow found each other. Whether by design or accident, we don't know. But they soon discovered their mutual love of crime."

He paused and looked at Natalie. She was still watching as the man in the other room paced around. "I'm sorry. I know this is a lot to take in."

"HEY! When am I getting out of this shithole?" Adamson bellowed and slammed his fist against the glass.

Natalie flinched. "Please get me out of here."

Wordlessly, they left the room and Paolo locked up.

**

After Jeff calmed down, he pulled back onto the road. But fifteen minutes later he came upon a tow truck at an accident scene. Two burly guys who looked like lumberjacks were securing the remains of a demolished BMW. It was black - the same color Kurt said he would be driving.

Relax. This is Germany. There are thousands of black BMWs around here.

Jeff slowed and rubbernecked as much as he could without causing a wreck himself. There was no sign of the driver. Probably at the hospital . . . or morgue, he thought in alarm. He had no way of finding out. Besides, imagine the confusion and questions if he showed up at some emergency room looking for his twin brother.

**

It was early afternoon when Paolo returned Natalie to her house. The neighborhood was quiet. Husbands and fathers were at work and moms took tennis lessons while the kids were in school. The retirees huddled in their air-conditioned dens watching soap operas. Even the local dogs were snoozing in patches of shade.

"Where are they?" asked Natalie.

"Who?"

"My surveillance team."

"Around, but invisible."

"I guess that's comforting," she sighed. "So what now? Has this Adamson guy told you anything? I can't think of him as a brother-in-law."

"Not yet, but we'll lean on him until he spills." An ice cream truck drove slowly down the street playing a tinkling melody, but no one emerged from their cool homes to buy anything. "Come on, I'll do a walk-through, to be on the safe side."

They exited the car and trudged up the driveway. Whey they reached the garage, Natalie frowned. "I'm so tired of all this. Of hoodlums disrupting my life. I don't know how much more I can take." Then a tear escaped and rolled down her flushed cheek.

Oh man, I hate when women cry, thought Paolo. Without hesitation, he drew her into his arms and held her tightly.

"Come on, it'll be okay. Don't cry." His right hand stroked her short hair while he tried to ignore how good her slim body felt nestled against his.

When her sobs subsided, she pulled back and looked up into his face. Paolo was lost and he knew it.

"Natalie, cara," he sighed as his lips found hers. It was as good as Paolo had imagined and he'd imagined it every day since she'd come back into his life. He tried to pull her even closer, to absorb her into his soul. When he finally broke the kiss, he braced for a hard slap to the face.

"I'm sorry, Natalie. That was . . . "

"That was amazing!" She was as breathless as he was.

He smiled, slow and sexy. "Yes, it was." He bent his head for another kiss, forgetting for a moment his duty.

A rustling sound came from the corner of the garage. Paolo released Natalie as his right hand reached for his Glock.

"MEE-owww."

Natalie clapped a hand over her thudding heart. "Big Tom." The large feline strutted over and rubbed against Natalie's bare legs. "You naughty cat. You scared us," she chided.

She motioned to Paolo's gun. "I think you can put that away."

Paolo re-holstered the weapon. "I should thank him."

"Thank him?" Natalie bent over to scratch Big Tom's head.

"The brute saved me from going too far." He held Natalie's gaze for a long moment. "Natalie, you are a beautiful and intelligent woman. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to you."

Natalie turned away as more heat flooded her face. She concentrated on the cat. "I feel it, too. But I'm . . . married." She said the last word as if it was a distasteful thing.

Neither spoke. Then something caught Natalie's attention. "Hey, what's this?" She retrieved a small object from the mouth of an open bag of potting soil.

A flash drive. She held it up. "You think this is what those sleaze-bags were after?"

Paolo's eyebrows shot up. "I'd bet good money on it."

Chapter 14

Natalie heard kids running and a dog barking. Must be a dream. I don't have kids or a dog.She struggled to open her eyes. Pale yellow walls greeted her. Where am I? My bedroom's blue.

She sat straight up in bed, her head reeling. Paolo's sister's house. Then the memory of last night and the ugly accusations about Jeff crowded into her memory.

I have to get out of here.

**

Paolo strode to the coffee maker for a much-needed shot of caffeine. Sofia and Serena sat at the kitchen table slurping up spoonfuls of cereal. He did a double-take. They were wearing swimsuits, flip-flops, and their birthday jewelry. "You guys going to school today?"

"No," they giggled. "Teacher work day."

"Good thing. I didn't think that matched the dress code."

There was more giggling, then their eyes grew wide. "Look, it's Natalie!" said Serena.

"Are you on a date?" asked Sofia, glancing from Natalie to Paolo.

"Uh . . ." began Natalie.

"Some men were working at her house. It was too noisy," answered Paolo smoothly. He pushed Natalie down into a chair and placed a cup of strong coffee in her hands.

"Oh. Okay. Wanna go shopping and swimming with us today?" they asked eagerly.

Angela entered the kitchen with a basket of folded laundry. "Natalie probably wants to go check on her house."

"Bummer," said Sofia.

"Sounds like fun, but I really need to go home," said Natalie. "Maybe another time."

"Girls, go put on your shorts and take Roscoe out. We need to get moving," said Angela. They jumped up from the table and ran down the hall.

"We'll be out of your hair in a sec," said Angela, looking at Paolo. He nodded absently as he took in Natalie's rumpled appearance. It was obvious she'd slept in her clothes and her wound appeared to be bleeding again.

There was a knock at the back door and Paolo's grandmother entered.

"Nonna, this is Natalie."

The elderly woman's gaze swept over Natalie and she slowly smiled. "Ah, Nat-a-lie," she said, emphasizing each syllable. "Buon giorno."

"Buon giorno, Signora," answered Natalie.

Paolo had a rushed conversation with his grandmother in Italian. "Nonna says she is very sorry for your troubles and that you should eat a good breakfast."

"Uh, coffee's enough. But I should get a shower. Then can you take me home?" Natalie pushed back her chair, but wobbled as she stood up.

Paolo reached out and grabbed her shoulders. "Come on. We need to change that dressing." He propelled her back to the guest room and into the bathroom.

"I'm fine. Really," Natalie protested. "I'll only be a couple of minutes."

Paolo rummaged in the closet and found a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. "Here, these are Angela's, but she won't mind."

"Thanks."

"If you're not out in five minutes, I'm coming in," Paolo threatened.

"That's government harrassment." But as she closed the door, Natalie found that thought strangely appealing.

**

"Apply this antibiotic twice a day. It should do the trick," said the ER nurse.

After showering and dressing, Paolo had inspected her wound and pronounced it infected. He'd whisked her back to the hospital, but not before his grandmother stuffed her with Italian sausage, scrambled eggs, and toast.

They left the ER and Paolo drove Natalie home. They were silent for a while, then Natalie spoke up. "You grandmother was very nice."

"She lives with my parents, literally around the corner from Ange. She always feels the need to feed everyone in sight."

"What's this?" asked Natalie as they pulled into her driveway. A van sat at the end of the street and an SUV was parked in front of the house. "I watch TV. I know surveillance when I see it."

Paolo gave her an amused look. "Maybe we should hire you."

"No, seriously. Am I under house arrest?"

"Of course not. It's protection. Those punks may come back. It's standard operating procedure in high-profile cases."

Natalie shook her head in disgust. "Great. So I'm high profile."

"Your husband. Not you. It's either these guys or go into protective custody."

"Why didn't you put me in a safe house last night?"

"Both safe houses were filled with, shall we say, less-than-model citizens waiting to testify in drug and money laundering cases. Would you have prefered that?"

Natalie blew out a sigh. "Hardly."

There was a rap on Paolo's window. A tall, striking brunette in a black pantsuit stood there. He lowered the window. "Hey, Kelsey Any problems?"

She was all business. "Is your phone on? Greene's been trying to reach you." Paolo checked. "Dead battery."

"Go back to headquarters. We'll watch Mrs. Jernigan."

"Fine. Give me a minute." Kelsey regarded them for a moment, then returned to the SUV.

Paolo turned to face Natalie. "Don't leave the house and do whatever they say. It's for your own good."

"My own good. You sound like my father," said Natalie as she got out of the car.

**
The Next Day

"Why didn't you tell us about your brother-in-law?" asked Paolo.

Natalie was back in the FBI conference room. The ultra-efficient Kelsey had deposited her there twenty minutes ago. She was so familiar with it now that she could point out various stains on the carpet.

"Kevin? What about him?"

"Not your sister's husband. Jeff's brother. His twin."

Natalie stared at Paolo in disbelief. "What are you talking about? Jeff doesn't have a brother. Well, not anymore. He had an older brother, Eric. But Eric drowned when he was three."

"Did you know your husband was adopted?"

"Of course. It was no secret. After Eric died, his mother couldn't have any more kids, so they adopted. Are you going to tell me what this is about?"

"Seeing is believing," said Paolo. "Come on."

He took her to the elevator at the end of the hall and punched the button for the sub-basement.

"Where are we going?"

"Holding cells."

Natalie began to shake. "Why?"

Paolo gripped her painfully by the upper arms. "You're not in trouble, but you do need to prepare yourself."

Chapter 13

Jeff drove on until he spotted a picnic and camping area on the right side of the road. He turned in and cut the engine. His heart pounded and he was already sweating in the early morning chill.

Don't panic, man. Those feds could be headed anywhere - big pileup on the autobahn or a terrorist sighting. Anything. Yeah right. When pigs fly. His gut told him otherwise.

He rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes until he felt calmer. He had no choice but to continue on to Prague. If he still couldn't contact Kurt, well there was always someone willing to pay for information. Especially the Nigerians. They were up to their eyeballs in these e-mail scams and always looking for more people to bilk. He could still score a sweet payday.

The sky had lightened and local traffic was starting to stir. Jeff cranked the car and eased onto the road. He would pick up the autobahn in another half hour. From there he'd head south to Prague, ditch the car, and hop a flight to somewhere. South Africa, Thailand, it no longer mattered as long as he had an internet connection.

**

Paolo stopped in front of Natalie's house. The driveway was jammed with the CSI van, cop cars, and the unmarked vehicles of the FBI. Natalie sighed loudly. "I really just want to crawl into bed and pretend the last few days never happened. It's been an absolute nightmare."

Crawl into bed. Paolo had a sudden, unprofessional image of being between the sheets with Natalie. Her bed, his bed, a deserted cove on the beach. Any place where there were no cell phones, pagers, or Jeffrey Jernigan.

Whoa, dude. Do not go there. Sadly, she was off limits for too many reasons.

Paolo's phone chirped with a message. He longed to ignore it, but there was no escaping duty. He checked it and returned it to his pocket. "And the nightmare isn't over yet."

Natalie looked sharply at Paolo. "What? Talk to me."

Paolo held her look for a moment. "We need to go to the office. There's something you should see."

"Is it Jeff? Is he in custody? Oh my God, they found his body! Is that it?"

Paolo laid his hand over hers. It was an innocent gesture, but he wanted it to convey more than simple comfort. To her credit, Natalie did not try to pull away. "Calm down, Natalie. It's nothing like that. It's surveillance video."

She looked at their hands, then to Paolo. Finally, she tore her gaze away to stare out into the inky darkness.

**
Twenty minutes later they arrived at the FBI field office. Scattered lights were on throughout the building and the parking garage was still half full even though it was well after midnight.

"This place never closes, does it?" asked Natalie.

They rode the elevator in silence. With his hand at the small of her back, Paolo guided Natalie to the conference room.

"Thirsty?"

"Extremely."

"Have a seat. I'll be back."

Natalie sat down and laid her head on her good arm. Five minutes later, a diet soda was slid in front of her. Paolo took the seat at the head of the table and popped the top of a regular soda.

"I need caffeine. Or better yet, a dirty martini," Natalie announced.

Paolo exchanged the cans. "When this is over, I'll buy you a drink." Why the hell did I say that? wondered Paolo as he took a drink. Natalie was getting under his skin, but he seemed powerless to stop it.

He glanced to the back of the room. "This is from Tempelhof Airport. Roll it." The lights dimmed and the video began.

Paolo watched Natalie's face go from bored to stunned in only a few seconds. "Oh my . . . It looks like. . . Wait! Go back! Can you enlarge that shot of his hand?"

Paolo leaned forward. "What is it?"

"Can you zoom in on his hand?"

"That scar! It is him! When we moved into the house, he was trying to put up shelves in the garage. Of course, he didn't know what he was doing. He turned around to get something and the whole thing fell on him. It broke his arm and he had to have surgery."

"You're positive?"

Absolutely. Hold on. Tempelhof. That's Berlin, right? What's he doing there? The meeting was in Zurich. And why's he wearing that stupid outfit?"

"That's what we'd like to know, Mrs. Jernigan."

Another man had quietly entered the room. He was tall with a large belly. His shirt sleeves were pushed up and his striped tie was askew. A faint odor of cigarettes clung to him. "I'm Special Agent-In-Charge Cyril Greene, Mrs. Jernigan."

Paolo sighed as his boss, the man who lived to make his life hell, loomed over Natalie. No doubt to intimidate her. Greene was twice divorced, had dangerously high blood pressure, and was perpetually pissed off by the building's no smoking policy.

Greene glared at Paolo. "Did you tell her about the bodies?"

"What bodies?" asked Natalie in alarm.

"I was getting to that," Paolo answered through clenched teeth. "We're ninety-nine percent certain that your husband murdered two people in the last twenty-four hours. A man and a woman, both German nationals." Their pictures appeared on the screen. "Gerhard Baum and Monika Sterne. Do those names mean anything to you?"

Natalie's jaw dropped and she stared at the screen wide-eyed. "I feel sick."

**

Natalie struggled to open her eyes. She touched her forehead and discovered a soggy, cold paper towel plastered to it. She turned her head slightly and realized she was on a lumpy couch in an office. A low lamp was burning on a cluttered, oversized desk a few feet away.

Where am I?

A door opened and Paolo strode in. He knelt beside the couch and peeled off the paper towel. "Sorry, it was the best I could do. We're not equipped for medical emergencies here."

The horrors of the previous hours flooded Natalie's memory. "Can I go home? I feel like shit."

"Home, no. CSI is still there. But I'm taking you somewhere you can rest."

Slowly, Natalie eased to an upright position. "Fine. Let's go."

**

An attractive dark-haired woman opened the front door of a neat suburban home. Paolo leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Thanks, Ange. I owe you."

"No problem."

"Natalie, this is my sister, Angela. The twins' mother."

"Nice to meet you," mumbled Natalie.

"Ah, Natalie," said Angela, giving Paolo a pointed look. "Likewise. Please, come in. I have the guest room ready for you."

Chapter 12

Emergency Room - 11:45 p.m.

The curtain at the foot of her stretcher snapped back. Paolo stood there, his eyes boring into her. His mouth was a grim line. The young Filipina nurse bandaging her arm spared him a glance, then did a double-take. A smile spread on her face. For some reason, Natalie did not like that.

Paolo flipped open his ID. "FBI. I need a statement from Mrs. Jernigan."

It was a moment before the nurse responded. She was too busy ogling Paolo. Who could blame her? He was the poster boy for "tall, dark, and handsome." Natalie rubbed her forehead with her right hand. She had a headache of epic proportions.

"Of course. I'm almost through." She wound the tape once more around the gauze pad on Natalie's left arm. Natalie winced. "Uh, that's a little tight."

"It'll be okay," said the nurse. She picked up her supplies and brushed by Paolo. "If you have any questions, I'll be at the desk."

Did she just flutter those fake eyelashes? Unbelieveable! Natalie sagged against the pillow, surprised the nurse didn't try to write her phone number on Paolo's hand.

"You okay? What the hell happened?" demanded Paolo.

"If one more person asks me that, I'm going to scream." Natalie leaned forward as her voice rose. "Do I look like I'm okay? My arm feels worse than a toothache, my head is pounding, and I chipped three nails. Oh yeah, and my ruined shirt was confiscated by the cops. Evidence, they said. So you tell me if I'm okay." She glanced down at the scrub top the nurse had given her to wear.

Paolo chuckled. "Anyone bellyaching like that is fine."

Natalie looked around for something to throw, but had to settle for a scowl. Too bad she didn't still have that trophy in her hand.

"It was a flesh wound. Sometime I'll tell you about this." He leaned over and pulled up his right pants leg. Besides his ankle holster, Natalie gawked at a long scar running up his muscular leg.

"What is this? 'My scar trumps your scar?'"

Paolo straightened and extended his hand. "Come on. We're getting out of here."

**

Paolo opened the passenger door of his car and helped Natalie in. He took a minute to check his messages before he went around to his side. He exhaled sharply and considered the terror he'd felt when he heard about the shooting. So her wound was not that serious, but the fact that the punks let her see their faces was unsettling. They very well might come back to silence her.

The passenger side window slid down. "Anything wrong?" asked Natalie.

He closed the phone. "Nothing I can't take care of." He went around to the driver's side and got in. Natalie was struggling to get the seat belt fastened.

Without a word, he reached across her to secure it. He caught a whiff of something floral. Shampoo? Perfume? He had no idea, but he liked it. A light scent that he would always associate with Natalie.

"Uh, thanks," said Natalie as she massaged her bandaged arm.

**

Jeff awoke with a start. He'd dozed off with the TV remote in his hand. An old Sylvester Stallone movie, dubbed into German, was playing. He grabbed his cell phone from the bedside table. No messages. Dammit. Where's Kurt?

The first contact time had come and gone. Now it was almost time for the back-up meet. If Kurt didn't show up with the money, then what? Jeff had only one phone number to reach him and an e-mail address that was probably routed through multiple servers.

He already had enough money to disappear for a long time. But a little more wouldn't hurt. He put on his jacket and stuffed his laptop in its case. He checked the time. Too early for the owners of this charming little bed-and-breakfast to be up. The date on his watch puzzled him for a moment. Was there something significant about today?

Of course. Wedding anniversary. Natalie must be freaking out. Better for her to think I'm dead. Then she can start over.

He considered his wife. She was pretty enough and they'd had some good times together. But she'd starting making noises about having kids. Jeff couldn't see himself going that route. Suburbia was insanely boring. And his stupid job at the bank. He should have been president of the whole damn place by now.

The movie and his thoughts were interrupted by a news bulletin. Jeff's German was rusty, but the picture of his crime scene at Tempelhof and Monika's driver's license picture needed no translation.

"Shit!" Jeff threw some Euros on the bed and grabbed his stuff. It was still dark and no traffic passed the bed-and-breakfast. He got into his small rental car and eased out onto the road, constantly checking the rear-view mirror.

He'd gone maybe five kilometers without encountering any traffic. Suddenly, a car he recognized as the German Federal Police screamed by him headed in the direction of the bed-and-breakfast.

Chapter 11

Natalie sucked in a breath. Maybe it was the neighbor's cat. The obese orange-and-white tom liked to prowl the garage and on occasion snooze on the hood of her car. Then from the corner of her eye she saw the door leading to the backyard was ajar.

Flee or fight? On a shelf next to the freezer sat Jeff 's high school softball trophy. Natalie slammed the freezer door and lunged for the trophy.

"Where is it?" A bear of a black man tackled Natalie, propelling her back against the hard freezer door.

"Ugh!" Natalie winced as the door handle dug into her back. His arms were the size of tree trunks and painfully gripped her shoulders. There was no way for her to get her hands loose to defend herself. Nor could she get her knee up to gouge his crotch.

"Where's that computer shit with the account numbers? Your man was supposed to hand it over last week."

The brute reeked of cigarettes and sweat. It was all Natalie could do not to gag. Black tee shirt, sunglasses, diamond studs in both ears, elaborate tattoos on arms and neck. Natalie mentally catalogued as many details as possible.

"I . . . uh."

"Come on, I ain't got all night." He squeezed her arms until she thought they would snap like dry twigs.

"He . . . uh, he took it with him. He took it on his trip. He was afraid to leave it here," gasped Natalie. Maybe I can stall. Get some info. Maybe Mr. Avila will be out walking his dog soon.

"Yeah, right. Do I look stupid, bitch? I know it's here somewhere."

"MEEE-ooww!" Big Tom sauntered in and jumped up on the Lexus.

Startled, the attacker's focus slipped. "What the hell? Sneaky bastard. I HATE cats."

Natalie wrenched her right arm free and grabbed the trophy. She swung it as hard as she could and connected with the man's forehead. Blood spurted from a large gash.

"Damn!" The man staggered backwards, shock etched on his face. He reached for a nearby table to break his fall. A large fern awaiting re-potting crashed to the floor. Natalie regrouped and prepared to swing again.

"HOW DARE YOU BREAK INTO MY HOUSE! I'M NOT GONNA TAKE ANY MORE OF THIS SHIT!"

The base of the trophy hit the side of his knee. He yelped in pain and went down on all fours. A skinny Hispanic man appeared in the doorway. In his hand was a large black gun.

"Hey, Jamal! Come on, man. Forget the bitch!" He fired a single round at Natalie. She dropped to the floor, still clutching the trophy.

Jamal struggled to get to his feet and limped to the door. "This ain't over. Nobody disses Jamal and gets away with it," he called over his shoulder.

You arrogant bastard. I didn't hit you hard enough, thought Natalie. She got up and inspected her shirt. Jamal's blood and potting soil covered the front. Suddenly, she realized she was still holding the trophy with a death grip. Thank goodness Jeff didn't put this in the neighborhood yard sale last month.

She heard a pop, then felt a burning pain in her upper left arm. "Shit!" She grabbed her arm and doubled over.

"That's for my boy, Jamal." The Hispanic dude thrust his middle finger in the air and spat on the floor before running away. In the distance, a car engine revved.

I've been shot! was Natalie's last thought before the darkness claimed her.

**

"The stain from the storage unit floor was indeed blood. O positive, to be exact," said Maureen "Mo" Schumacher, forensic lab supervisor. "But approximately thirty-seven percent of the population have that. And there's no way to determine how long it's been there."

"I don't know Jernigan's blood type. What about prints?" asked Paolo.

"One from the copier. That's it. Whoever handled those items was extremely careful."

"Too bad Jernigan was never arrested. Then we'd have something to compare it with. Thanks, anyway, Mo."

"That's what I'm here for. One more thing, Paolo."

"What?"

"My granddaughter will be in town next weekend. Maybe you'd like to meet her," said Mo with a twinkle in her eyes.

Paolo laughed. "You're as bad as my family. Besides, you're my favorite girl around these parts, Mo."

He left the lab and headed to the elevator. Another woman was claiming his thoughts right now. Tomorrow he would call Natalie. She might know her husband's blood type.

When he reached his office, the phone was ringing. It was the night-duty officer. "Got a heads-up from Miami-Dade. There was a break-in tonight at the Jernigan home. Natalie Jernigan was shot and has been transported to the hospital. No word yet on her condition."

Chapter 10

"Sabbatini."

"Uncle Paolo, we're eating birthday cake! Are you coming back soon?" demanded the twins.

In the background, Paolo heard his brothers' kids whooping it up, Roscoe barking, and his mother and grandmother attempting to impose order on the chaos.

"Not tonight. I'm still working."

"Why?" whined the girls.

Paolo sighed. "Somebody has to catch the bad guys and tonight that's me."

There was giggling and a bit of scuffling, then Angela came on the line. "Sorry , Paolo. I didn't realize they'd called your office. We'll save you some cake if you can't make it back."

"Thanks. You know my weakness for chocolate."

Another agent stuck his head around the corner, pointed at the phone, and mouthed, "Line two."

"Ange, I have another call coming in. I'll see you guys soon." He punched the flickering button and listened to his cop buddy, Ernesto.

"Qué pasa, Paolo? You pulling an all-nighter, too?"

"Looks that way. What have you got for me?"

"Couple of things. First, the neighbor who gave Natalie Jernigan the gun knocked over a gas station with a pal when they were just out of high school. Got maybe fifty dollars. Served some time, but as far as I can tell has been an upstanding citizen since then. Not even a parking ticket. No record of him having a handgun, so who knows where the old man picked it up. Maybe at a flea market. Plus, the serial number doesn't match any of our unsolved crimes. But I'd advise Mrs. Jernigan not to be waving that thing around in public."

"No shit," said Paolo.

"And that John Doe at the airport. Not your guy. He was positively identified through dental records and a class ring as a drug runner from Orlando. Tried to stiff another dude."

"Thanks, Ernesto. I owe you a beer."

"Hey, throw in a large pepperoni pizza and we'll call it even," laughed Ernesto.

"Won't your wife hassle you about your cholesterol?"

"Lourdes doesn't have to know. A man has to eat after all."

Paolo laughed. "Deal." He disconnected and leaned back in his chair. The info about the gun was a huge relief. Another weapon lay locked in the bottom desk drawer. The one he'd bought yesterday from local gunsmith Louie Arsenio. Louie thought law enforcement officers could never have too many firearms. He didn't question Paolo's story about needing another backup piece even though this one was smaller than the one currently strapped to Paolo's right ankle.

Paolo unlocked the drawer and examined the gun again. It should fit Natalie's grip better than that antique stashed in the trunk of her Lexus. But now he was having second thoughts. He needed to step back. He told himself it was only the male instinct to protect the innocent and the weaker sex. Any agent who gave a damn would feel the same way. But was it more? Paolo wasn't sure he had the answer to that question right now.

He rubbed the back of his neck and unknotted his tie, tossing it over the chair in the corner. He looked at the file on his desk. He'd been over it a hundred times. Maybe he'd wander down to the forensics lab to see if they'd uncovered any useful info from the items seized at Jernigan's storage unit.

He locked the gun in the drawer and headed down the hall. He stopped in the lounge to grab a cup of coffee. Of course, the pot was empty. He opened the cabinet to get a new packet and filter. As he waited for the coffee to drip through, he pulled out his cell phone, intending to check on Natalie.

He entered a couple of numbers, then paused. Better leave it alone. He snapped the phone together and stared at the coffee pot.

**

Natalie sprawled on the couch, the television remote in her right hand. Her eyes vaguely registered the images on the screen as she flipped through the channels. Spanish-language soap operas, annoying reality shows, news programs, weather programs, golf tournaments. How many channels did they have? One hundred, two hundred? Yet there was nothing of interest to watch.

Finally, she zapped off the television and tossed the remote on the coffee table. She wasn't interested in watching tv. She only wanted to distract herself from thoughts of Paolo. First, he shows up at the storage unit, then at the mall. What was the deal?

Suddenly, Natalie had a craving for ice cream, her favorite comfort food. She'd already been bad today by having a large cheeseburger and fries at the mall after Paolo left. Might as well go hog wild.

She slouched into the kitchen and jerked open the freezer side of the refrigerator. No ice cream! That simply would not do. She slammed the door and stomped through the mud room to the three-car garage where the freezer sat.

She paused with her hand on the freezer door, debating the merits of an ice cream sandwich over an ice cream cone with sprinkles. Or why not have one of each?!

This is crazy. I should be able to control myself better. Just when she'd decided to limit herself to one ice cream cone, there was a slight scraping sound behind her.

Chapter 9

Mouth-watering scents of garlic and oregano greeted Paolo as he entered the kitchen at his sister Angela's house. Sofia and Serena ran in excitedly to show off their jewelry.

"Hey, there you guys are!" said Angela. She handed Vittoria plates to set the table. His mother and sisters-in-law bustled around in the kitchen. "Did you have fun?"

"Oh, yes!" chirped the girls.

"We had ice cream and met Uncle Paolo's girlfriend," exclaimed Serena.

"She's really, really pretty," added Sofia. The twins erupted into giggles and ran into the adjoining family room. Paolo's father, brothers, and brothers-in-law looked up from the big-screen television. The women in the kitchen looked expectantly at Paolo. Even Roscoe, the black lab lying in front of the refrigerator, seemed to be waiting for a response.

Kids. Can't live with them, can't muzzle them, thought Paolo.

"Natalie Jernigan is the wife of a major suspect, who happens to be missing."

"And?" prompted Angela, sensing more to the story.

Paolo jammed his hands in his pockets. "And I knew her in high school, but it was only coincidence that she was at the mall."

Angela and Vittoria exchanged a look. "Right. High school."

"Don't make more of this than it is," warned Paolo. "I need to go back to the office. See you later." He snagged a piece of homemade pizza and turned toward the door.

Paolo's eighty-seven-year-old grandmother Maria looked up from her knitting and pointed. "You always running away to work. Next time bring this Natalie. She probably skinny like stick and need a good meal." Roscoe barked once as if that settled the matter and Maria resumed her knitting. When the family matriarch spoke it was akin to a papal edict.

Paolo shook his head and sent his sisters a threatening look.

**

Paolo drove to headquarters and was greeted by Evelina, the ample Hispanic woman who presided over the reception desk. "There's some big news," she confided with a wink. "Everybody's in the conference room."

He nodded absently as he stabbed the elevator button. Evelina was a true crime junkie and regarded a suspect's hangnail as "big news."

He exited on the seventh floor and proceeded to the conference room. The buzz of conversation from the task force members reached his ears.

"Take a seat, Paolo," urged his boss. "We need to get started." The lights dimmed and an image of a woman's bloody body flashed up on the screen. "Interpol sent this within the hour. Monika Sterne. Cleaning crew at Tempelhof found her in a dumpster. Shot once in the chest at close range. Ordinarily, a petty thief and golddigger like this would not concern us. However, witnesses recall seeing her in tense conversation with this man." An image of a man in a grey suit with a moustache and wire-rim glasses appeared.

"Take away the costume store disguise and it could be Jernigan," said Paolo.

"Who is this woman and why would he be with her?" asked another agent.

"Monika Caroline Sterne, German national, age thirty. Ran away from home at fifteen, lived with an aunt in Munich for a time. Arrested for shoplifting a couple of times, prostitution once. Married a wealthy, older guy at nineteen. Husband killed in auto accident a year later. Monika inherited a sizable chunk of money and a taste for the high life. Dropped off the grid for several years. Probably living with some other rich guy."

Another image jumped up on the screen. "Then two years ago there's a record of her entering the states with this man, Gerhard Baum, age thirty-seven, and going to Las Vegas."

"Wait a minute. Jernigan attended a banking conference in Vegas two years ago. They could have met there," said Paolo. "Where's Baum now?"

"Nobody knows for sure. However, police in Zurich recovered the body of a man from the Limmat river approximately twelve hours ago. His wallet is in the name of Gerhard Benker, but they're thinking it might be an alias. We're awaiting further information."

"White-collar crime and now possibly murder. Jernigan's panicking," mused Paolo. "Did he screw up in Vegas and have gambling debts?"

"Anything seems possible with this guy," said the boss. "I want you people to go over every scrap of information we have about Jernigan. Everything we know and everything we think we know. We're missing something."

Chapter 8



"Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Jernigan. I'm afraid we've had a rather disturbing morning," said Carlton Whittaker, president of Dade Savings and Loan. He dabbed at his forehead with his breast pocket handerchief as he ushered her down a hallway off the lobby.

"You remember Jonah Tompkins, senior vice president?" A tall, thin man stood as they entered Whittaker's office. His eyes darted nervously from Whittaker to Natalie.

"Of course. How are you?" asked Natalie.

Whittaker indicated an overstuffed chair in front of his enormous desk. Natalie dropped into it.

"Look, I know Jeff's in some kind of trouble. I've already had a run-in with the feds this morning so whatever you have to say can't be any more shocking."

Tompkins sucked in a breath. "We were hoping you could provide some answers. Jeff failed to meet his clients in Zurich and the authorities say there's no record of him even boarding his flight from Miami. Do you know where he is?"

Natalie glared at the man. "Trust me, if I knew where he was I'd be the first one asking questions! I've been threatened at gunpoint and treated like a common criminal today!"

Whittaker cleared his throat. "Was Jeff, uh, I don't know how to put this delicately, was he depressed about anything? Would he . . . "

"Would he kill himself?" Natalie finished for him. "Don't be ridiculous. But he may wish he was dead when I find him and get to the bottom of this shit!"

Whittaker recoiled as if he'd been slapped. "Now, now, you have to stay calm. We have to stay calm."

"I want to look in his office," said Natalie. She picked up her purse and stood.

"Wait, please!" said Whittaker. "There's something else." He slid a piece of paper across the desk. "The FBI froze your accounts until their investigation is resolved."

"They what?" Natalie snatched up the paper and quickly read it. "Those bastards!"

"I'm sorry, Natalie. Truly I am," stammered Whittaker. "Jeff had such a bright future here at Dade. I can't imagine what's happened."

Natalie glared at the two men, then marched out of the office and around the corner to Jeff's office. Desk and file drawers stood open and the files were in disarray. His computer hard drive was missing and the phone was unplugged. The bamboo plant that normally sat on the credenza lay on the floor with dirt spilling out.

The final insult was the broken picture frame on the bookshelf. Natalie picked it up. A smiling vacation photo of the two of them looked back at her. She studied it for a moment. Twenty-four hours ago her life was normal. Now it seemed like a bad movie-of-the-week.


**

The Next Day

Natalie perched on the high stool beside her best friend Liza's jewelry kiosk in the mall.

"I really appreciate this, Nat," said Liza as she herded her snow-white poodle into his carrier. "Grover's way overdue for his haircut. Not to mention Katie keeps bugging me for new ballet slippers."

"Hey, no problem. What else do I have to do? My husband's vanished, my house is trashed, and my money's frozen. This is better than crying in my beer." Natalie blinked rapidly to ward off the tears.

Liza straightened and frowned. "You don't even like beer." She gave Natalie a reassuring hug. "Oh, sweetie. I'm so sorry. Things will get better. You'll see."

Natalie wasn't so convinced. "Maybe. I know one thing, there'll be hell to pay when Jeff turns up."

"You go, girl," chuckled Liza. "That sounds more like my friend." Liza's smile faded and she shook her head. "Honestly, I just can't believe all of this is happening to you."

"Tell me about it." Natalie took a sip of her diet soda.

A cell phone chirped deep within Liza's bag. She pulled it out and checked the display. "Ballet class is over. Gotta go. I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours."

"Go. I think I can sell jewelry for that long without having a nervous breakdown," said Natalie.

Liza hoisted the carrier as Grover growled. She started toward the exit with a wave.

Mall traffic was slow. Natalie half-heartedly worked a crossword puzzle. She smiled pleasantly whenever someone approached the kiosk, but nobody was in a buying mood. Maybe when Liza returned she'd wander over to the food court for an artery-clogging cheeseburger and fries and people-watch for a while. That way she could postpone thinking about the sorry state of her life.

An hour passed. Natalie sold a necklace and matching bracelet to an elderly woman. "My granddaughter is graduating from middle school," she beamed.

"How nice. I hope she'll enjoy these," Natalie said as she put them into a little box.

The woman moved off. Behind Natalie's back came the sound of two little girls chattering. She swiveled on the stool and her jaw dropped. Less than twenty feet away was Paolo. The girls apparently belonged to him.

He looked like he'd just come from work, minus his jacket and shoulder harness. His tie was loosened and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. She'd never pictured Paolo as a family man. A playboy with multiple girlfriends, yes. She didn't remember seeing a wedding band. Probably divorced. He was so arrogant and bossy who could tolerate living with him? The direction of Natalie's thoughts surprised her. She chalked it up to stress.

The little girls were twins, but not identical. The slightly taller one wore a pink tee shirt with a sequined flower design. Her ebony hair and blue eyes were an exact replica of Paolo's. The shorter one also had ebony hair, but her eyes were chocolate-brown. Her tee shirt matched her sister's except that it was purple.

"Look, a butterfly!" squealed the pink-shirted one. The girls bent their heads to examine the various necklaces, earrings, and bracelets.

Paolo strode up to the kiosk. Natalie scowled. "I'm still waiting for that update."

Paolo glanced at the girls to be sure they were occupied. "Nothing to report at the moment."

"Oh, nothing other than the fact that my accounts are frozen?" Natalie knew she should not draw him into an argument in front of his kids, but her frustration was at a breaking point.

"Don't take it personally. That's standard operating procedure. If you like, you can come by the office tomorrow to discuss any concerns."

"You couldn't have warned me yesterday?" Natalie demanded.

"I'm a cog in the machine. I take orders like everybody else."

"Damn," muttered Natalie.

The girls gasped and purple shirt piped up, "You said a bad word!" Then they giggled.

Paolo tried hard not to smirk as Natalie blushed. "Yes, I did. I'm sorry," she said to the girls.

Then to Paolo she added, "I didn't mean to offend your daughters."

More giggling from the girls. "They're my sister's kids," he said. "Sofia in the pink and Serena in the purple. Today's their birthday."

"We're eight years olds!" They vibrated with excitement.

"But I'm two minutes older," asserted Sofia.

Natalie couldn't hide her surprise. "You don't say."

"Can I try this one on?" asked Serena.

"Sure. That's one of my favorites," said Natalie. She slid off the stool to open the clasp of a dragonfly necklace.

Paolo let his eyes roam over Natalie. Today her short, brown hair was combed and she was clad in a mint-green sleeveless blouse, white capri pants, and sandals. She'd gained only a few pounds since high school and all of them in the right places. Her wedding rings were absent, but she wore small pearl earrings and a Cartier watch. That alone would have cost Jernigan a small fortune. Paolo wondered again why the fool would jeopardize his marriage to this beautiful woman.

Better not to think too much about Natalie as a woman, decided Paolo. That was getting into dangerous waters. He checked his watch. "Sofia, hurry up and decide on something. Your mom's expecting us back by six-thirty."

The girls made their selections of matching necklaces and earrings. Paolo handed his credit card to Natalie, their fingertips brushing. They stared at each other for a moment.

"Are you Uncle Paolo's girlfriend?" asked Sofia.

"No. Why would you think that?" Natalie was shocked by the question.

"He kept staring at you while we were eating ice cream a while ago," said Sofia.

"Yeah, and he even took a picture of you with his phone," added Serena.

Paolo frowned down at them. "I was checking messages from work."

Serena shook her head. "No way! It makes that funny noise when you take a picture."

"Nonna says he should find a nice girl and settle down. What does that mean?" asked Sofia, her face all innocent.

"It means . . . " Paolo's cell phone rang. He looked at the ID and groaned. Work. "It means I need to take you guys home now."

Natalie glared at him. "Saved by the cell."

Chapter 7

Tempelhof Airport - Berlin

Monika stood in the arrivals lounge as passengers began exiting the Air France flight from Zurich. Wave after wave of tourists, businessmen, and grandparents fanned out to be met by tour guides, colleagues, and eager family members. But no Gerhard. The flight crew emerged a few moments later and the cleaning staff pushed their carts down the jetway to began turnover of the plane.

This was puzzling. Monika opened her phone to punch in Gerhard's number. She sensed someone behind her. Before she could turn, a gun barrel was thrust into her side and a man dropped an arm around her shoulders.

His lips brushed the side of her neck. "Don't make a sound," he whispered. "You know I'll use this."

Monika willed herself to not panic. This was merely a glitch. She felt certain she could turn the situation to her advantage. "What do you want?"

The man tightened his grip and hustled her toward a hallway that said "Staff Only." At the end was a door marked "Supplies." He knew it was open because he'd left it so on his earlier reconnaissance. He kicked open the door and shoved Monika in. She stumbled over a pallet of toilet tissue, landing hard on her right shoulder. She winced in pain and grabbed her shoulder. It was dislocated.

"Wh . . . what do you want?" she asked again. Her face contorted in pain. The side of her face burned from contact with the rough concrete floor and blood was oozing from a scalp laceration.

The man laughed softly and pointed the silenced gun at her. "Did you think you could get rid of me so easily? After all, I'm the one with all the account numbers."

Think, Monika! It couldn't end like this. She'd worked too hard and was so close to having everything. Her leather bag had flown off her shoulder and landed behind some crates. She had no weapon. Tears sometimes worked on men, but she knew it would not phase this one. She would have to bargain.

Still holding her shoulder, she eased into a sitting position. "We'll eliminate Gerhard. He's a greedy bastard. It will just be the two of us. We can go anywhere, do anything."

The man laughed again. "Gerhard. He's already been eliminated. Now it's your turn. I wanted to see the look of terror on your perfect face before I pulled the trigger." He stepped closer.

"Jeff, wait!" Monika held up her left hand. "I have another account. Here in Berlin. Gerhard knew nothing about it. It was my insurance policy if anything went wrong. It's over half a million Euros. You can have all of it."

"Don't worry. I already have."

Monika paled. He could be bluffing. "Bitte, Jeff. It doesn't have to be like this," she pleaded.

"Berliner Sparkasse, the branch on Unter den Linden, across from the park." He recited the account number with a smug look on his face.

A fear unlike anything Monika had ever known gripped her. Another fake passport lay in a safe deposit box at the bank, but it was of no benefit to her now. She tried to take a deep breath, but pain racked her chest. Broken ribs, most likely.

"That's right, Monika. You should never screw a banker. At least where money is concerned." He fired one shot and Monika crumpled to the floor. He stuck the gun in the back waistband of his pants.

Jeff lifted her body and heaved it over into a trash dumpster that stood against the wall. He retrieved her purse from behind the crate of spray cleaners and searched it. Wallet, airline ticket, cell phone, lipstick, paperback novel. The usual stuff. He pocketed the cash and wiped the bag with a handerchief. His fingers ran across a bulge in the lining. He quickly ripped it out and discovered the fake passports. He stuffed the one in the name of Gary Franklin into his pocket. Good old Gerhard would not be needing this now.

He flung the purse into the dumpster. Then he shuffled some trash around to cover both the body and purse. Unfortunately, the bitch had bled a little on the floor. He grabbed a bottle of spray cleaner and dabbed at the spot with his handerchief.

Satisfied with his cleanup, he listened at the door. No sounds came from the hallway. He eased the door open and crossed to the janitor's bathroom opposite. He flushed the handerchief down the toilet.

**
Natalie finished talking to the CSI agents, but she knew they didn't believe her. Oh, they didn't come right out and say so, but their grim expressions and pointed looks gave them away. She returned to her car and sat there for a moment. Paolo had said to go home and he would be in touch. She didn't like the sound of that. Something was up.

Her cell phone rang. It was Jeff's boss from Dade Savings and Loan.

"Mrs. Jernigan, could you come in to the bank this morning?"

"I guess so. What's going on?"

"I'd rather not say on the phone. However, it is urgent."

Chapter 6

Tempelhof Airport - Berlin

Monika Sterne sipped a coffee as she scanned the front page of Der Spiegel. It had been much easier than she'd expected. The setup was perfect and the American had been easy to manipulate. Then he'd become - what did the Americans call it? Clingy. Yes, that was it. Wanting too much of her time and attention, not to mention her body.

But Gerhard would have taken care of that loose end by now. In fact, his flight from Zurich should be arriving at any moment. Then they would escape the dreary cold of winter and head to a more hospitable climate. Maybe the south of France or Santorini or even California. She'd been to the states many times. They could easily blend in. Many Americans were essentially rootless and moved around a lot.

She finished her coffee and picked up her oversized black leather handbag. Sewn into the lining were new passports in the names of Gary and Monika Franklin. It would be an adjustment. But had she not been doing that since she was fifteen?

**
"You need answers?" asked Natalie. "What about me? I'm the one whose husband is missing. I'm the one being harrassed and threatened at gunpoint!" Her hands were planted on her hips, a frown marring her perfect face. Her vee-necked pink tee shirt pulled taut across her breasts. Paolo's attention slipped for a moment before he remembered his duty.

"You're telling me you don't know what this stuff is?" He gestured to the contents of the storage unit.

"No clue." Natalie proceeded to tell him about Randall showing up with the key that morning. His face gave nothing away as he listened.

"Did Randall give you that gun?"

"No."

They stared at each other for a beat. "I'm waiting," said Paolo.

Natalie pursed her lips and sighed. "Okay. Mr. Trendel gave it to me."

"Trendel. Your neighbor who moved to Tampa."

"Right. On moving day he walked over and just gave it to me. Said his daughter wouldn't let him have it around the grandkids. That I could use it for protection when Jeff was traveling. I don't know where he got it or if it was registered or anything." Now that she'd started, Natalie seemed unable to stop.

"One time he told me he'd had some trouble with the law in his younger days. I never asked him about it. He always seemed like a nice old man, working in his rose garden. You know, he won prizes for those roses."

Paolo stared at her in amazement. "Dammit, Natalie. Did you ever think it might be stolen? Or maybe it's tied to some unsolved crime?"

"No, I didn't think much about it. I just threw it in the trunk and, well, kinda forgot about it."

"What if you'd been in a wreck and the cops found that? Can you imagine the kind of trouble you'd be in?"

"I wasn't thinking," said Natalie, folding her arms over her chest.

"No shit." Paolo thought of his buddy, Ernesto, a Miami-Dade homicide detective. Maybe he'd ask him to do some discreet snooping about Trendel and his gun. He glared at Natalie. He wanted to believe that she was an innocent in all this. A protective urge surged through him. In the past, he was always able to separate his personal feelings from the job. Now he had a strange sensation that the lines were about to become blurred.

"What's happened to you, Natalie? You used to be a nice girl in high school."

"I'm still a nice girl!" she insisted, voice rising. "Maybe I just made some bad choices." Maybe not only the gun, but Jeff, too, she thought.

"Your home has a security system. You should be fine with that."

"It didn't stop your people from getting in," she sneered.

"That's our job."

"Nevertheless, I think I would feel safer with a gun."

"Do you even know how to handle one?" Paolo asked.

Natalie curled her fingers and pointed her right index finger. "Point and shoot. Like my camera. How hard could it be?" she smiled.

Paolo blew out a frustrated breath. Then his cell phone rang. Caller ID showed it was Marco from headquarters. He stepped away and turned his back to Natalie as he answered. "Yeah?"

"Miami-Dade discovered the torched body of a man in the trunk of a rental car at the airport less than an hour ago. From the general description, it could be Jernigan. I'm headed there now."

"Okay. As soon as CSI shows up, I'll head out," said Paolo. He ended the call and snapped the phone shut. He made sure his "FBI mask" as his family called his blank look was firmly in place before he turned to face Natalie. Fortunately, the CSI van pulled up at that moment and two agents jumped out and began getting equipment out of the rear of the van.

"After you talk to these guys, I want you to go straight home and stay there."

"What's wrong? Was that call about Jeff? Did you find him?"

"There's been a development. I don't have any details yet. Maybe it's nothing."

"But . .

"But nothing." Paolo gripped her shoulders. "Do as I say. I'll be in touch later."

Paolo stalked away, got in his car and headed toward the airport. If the body was Jernigan, someone was trying to send a message. Natalie could be in danger. Keeping her safe was now as important as solving the case.

While stopped for a red light, Paolo flipped throught the directory of his cell phone. When he found the number he was searching for, he paused. This might come back to haunt him, but it seemed like the right thing to do. He punched in the number and waited throught six rings. Finally, a man with a voice like gravel answered.

"Hey, Louie. It's Paolo. I need to buy a gun."