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“You clearly don’t know much about Rick if you think I’ll offend that easily. As for my work,” I sigh, “right now, I’m wrapped up in military contracts, but I’m going private. I’m looking forward to it.”

She stands and shoves her bag on her shoulder. “Why the military?”

“My father’s a general. My mother was, too. She died young.”

“My mother as well,” she says and shifts the topic back to me. “Is that what made you choose a different career?”

“I can shoot and fight. I like that I can shoot and fight, but I just didn’t want that to be all that I am. And I always loved art, but being an artist doesn’t make any money unless you’re like Chris Merit, or someone famous like him. And I love the bigger than life finished product of architecture.”

We’ve walked to the elevator at this point and stepped inside. “Was your mother a cop or in law enforcement of some type?”

“My mother was Laura Love. The cameras loved her.”

I gape. “As in the movie star?”

“That’s right. Most believe she died in a plane crash, which is true.” The elevator opens and we exit.

We’re exiting the building when I ask, “Most people believe?”

“Pocher had her killed.”

“Oh.”

“Believe me, if I could kill Pocher without consequences, I would.”

I’m dumbstruck. I don’t even know what to say. She moves on. “Starbucks is only a block and a half up.”

A few minutes later, we’re in line at the coffee shop and I find myself ever so interested in Lilah’s story. “How did you become a profiler?”

“Family history. My parents wanted me to be an actress. I wanted nothing to do with that world. I followed my father who was a good sheriff who loved his job in the Hamptons. My brother is now that good sheriff who loves his job. He took over when my father became one of Pocher’s protégés and if the polls are correct, he’ll soon be the Governor of New York State.”

Her phone rings and she answers the call, and while her expression doesn’t change there’s a subtle tension to her. “We’re at Starbucks. Just meet us here.” She disconnects. “The guys are coming here.”

“Anything wrong?”

“Other than my father being a little bitch and actually Pocher’s little bitch? Nope.”

She’s dodged my question, but I don’t push for more. Rick will be here soon. I’ll talk to him. “Can’t Kane used whatever he has on Pocher to free your father?”

“My father doesn’t want to be free. He’s one of them. You and I have more in common than you realize.”

We order and then head to a table to wait for our drinks. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“I’ll try not to drink your coffee,” she says, her tone flat like it’s not a joke. She means it. I laugh because my God, her and Savage are just so alike.

I dart away and down the hallway to the bathroom. I’m about to enter the single person room when the back exit starts to open. I have no idea why but my heart leaps. I dart inside and lock the door, leaning on the hard surface and giving myself a talking to. Pocher’s handled. I know this. That means he called off Alejandro. I’m still jumpy though, so very jumpy in a way I wasn’t at the station. I’ll be better when I see Rick. When I hear him say this is over, I’ll know it’s over.

I push off the door, do what I came in here for, wash up, and fix my face, which means maneuvering around my gun for my lipstick. The gun, the Sig Sauer P238 gifted to me from Rick, is a comforting site and presence, and I find myself leaving my bag unzipped as I walk to the door, my hand lingering on the steel of my weapon. I have to let it go to open the door though, and I swear I have this warning system going off in my head. A fight or flight kind of thing.

I pause and dial Rick. He answers on the first ring. “Hey, baby. We’re almost there. We’re parking now.”

“Oh good. Okay. Hurry.”

“Always when I’m coming to you, baby.”

I smile and disconnect, already calmer. I shove my phone back in my pocket and drawing a breath, I unlock the door and turn the knob. Suddenly, I’m shoved hard backward and I end up falling down. Adrenaline surges through me as I bring Alejandro into view. The next minute is in slow motion. Alejandro slams the door and instinct, and years on end of training, kick in. As he raises his gun, mine is already in my hand, and I don’t hesitate. I fire at his chest and I hit my target. He flies backward and hits the wall and then slides to the ground.

I scramble to a sitting position and the door flies open again. My gaze catches on Lilah as she enters, weapon drawn. And then to my shock, everything is in slow motion again, as Alejandro raises his gun in my direction again and Lilah shoots Alejandro in the head. This time blood splatters all over the place including on me. I drop my gun and press my hands to the floor and I’m shaking now. “I shot him in the chest. How was he alive.”

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