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Rapp held up his hand and let it wobble back and forth. “It’s a little iffy.”

Hayek gave him a suspicious look. “What’s my name?”

Rapp smiled. “I know you’re from Michigan.”

“That’s correct.”

For reasons that he didn’t know at the time and couldn’t explain later, he reached out and grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry. I feel like you’re important to me. That we’ve shared something that could be important.”

It wasn’t easy to see Hayek blush with her smooth olive skin, but she was. Her lips formed a smile that was one part shock and the other part excitement. “We work with each other.”

“And I get the feeling there’s a little something more to our relationship than just work.”

Hayek cleared her throat and laughed. She had sensed the tension between them, but her history of work relationships was so bad that she had ignored it to the best of her ability. That didn’t mean, however, that she wasn’t attracted to him. She was very much so. To the point where she was worried that it had begun to affect her work. She had even allowed her mind to wonder what it would be like. Rapp was such a dynamic force, volatile but in a very predictable way, that he actually scared her at first. The man across from her now, however, was a new version of Rapp, where all of those walls had been stripped away. For a split second she was tempted to tell him that they were in a committed relationship and then she decide

d against it.

Instead her juvenile streak took over and she said, “We’ve been sleeping with each other for the last six months.”

Rapp’s eyes opened wide. “Really?”

Hayek burst out laughing and, unable to talk because she couldn’t stop laughing, she managed to shake her head. Finally after about ten seconds she said, “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. We’re coworkers . . . you’re my boss.”

Rapp looked bummed out. “That sucks.”

“I’m sorry.” She giggled some more, placed her other hand over Rapp’s, and said, “That wasn’t very nice of me.”

Rapp cracked a smile and asked, “Do you think there’s a chance we might be able to?”

Hayek laughed even harder this time and had to cover her mouth. This was so unlike Rapp, she wished she had taped it to show everyone. No, that would be mean, she thought, but it would be fun to show him. “Do they have you on any painkillers?”

Rapp smiled, and his smile gave her the answer to her question. Now it was his turn to clasp her hand in both of his. “Are you sure we never slept together?”

CHAPTER 28

KENNEDY had maneuvered Gould to the exact spot where she wanted him. The intelligence business was many things, but stripped down to its basic elements, it was about people. How they interacted with other people in normal day-to-day activities and how they might change their behavior in a stressful situation. It was easy to lose sight of this and get hung up on all the satellite imagery, signal intercepts, and endless reports from analysts, but it all came back to human interaction. Kennedy was fairly certain Gould was a misogynist. It was observable in the way he treated his wife. For a misogynist, it was almost impossible to underestimate a woman.

“So,” she said, “you think you are the only one who keeps secrets?”

“Everyone has secrets.”

“Claudia . . . your wife, does she have secrets?”

Kennedy saw a crack in his detached demeanor. The mention of his wife in such a personal way had its desired effect. “In case you’ve forgotten, she was the one who contacted me after you screwed up and killed Mitch’s wife. You see, she knew that she couldn’t bring a baby into this world with that kind of dark cloud hanging over her head. Unlike you, she gets it. She understands that you can’t take innocent life and expect to create life.”

“Save your psychobabble for someone who cares. I can only imagine how many people you’ve killed over the years.”

Some people in Kennedy’s position would try to argue the fine point with Gould and claim that they had killed no one, but Kennedy had never deluded herself that she was uninvolved because someone else pulled the trigger. She understood fully the responsibilities of her job. Kennedy did not want to get sidetracked from the point at hand, but she needed to clear something up first. “You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m not naïve enough to buy your postmodern relativism. I have killed people, more people than you have, but there are several rather distinct differences between us. I have received no fees, bounties, or contract payments for the people I have ordered killed, and I most certainly don’t find some perverse thrill in it, as you do. I kill bad people in an effort to keep innocent people safe. You, on the other hand . . . it doesn’t matter to you if you kill good people or bad people just so long as someone is willing to pay your fee.”

“Please,” Gould scoffed.

“I’m not sure why you think this game is helpful, but we both know the truth. You are not a good man. You are a selfish, narcissistic ass who, despite being given a second chance in life, could not walk away from an extremely dangerous profession. A profession that will likely get you, your wife, and your daughter killed.”

“Please stop lecturing me, and go get Mr. Rapp.”

Kennedy was ready to drop the bomb. “Claudia and I have been in contact for the last four years. She usually calls when you’ve left her and Anna to go on one of your trips where you claim you need to see your bankers.” Kennedy caught the change in his eyes and she knew she had him. “I’ve even had you followed a few times.”

Gould shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

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