She wasn't ready when he jerked her back and felt his bitter, betrayed gaze rake across her.

"What are you hiding, Phoebe? What's really going on here?"

Her chest hurt with the need for air, for him. There was no room for thinking or even planning, only one bitter reality: she'd never know his kiss, she'd never know what it was like to be his. She closed her eyes against him. Against the longing to beg him to take her back into his arms. There was pride inside her, somewhere. She had to find it.

He gave her no time. "This way, I think."

He pulled her toward the door with a faint light showing under it and shoved it open. He fumbled for and found the light switch. Saw the status of the wipe on the computer monitor. It was close to the end of the bar but not there yet.

Without missing a beat, he found the power cord and yanked it from the wall.

His chest heaved once, then he turned and looked at her. Her eyes were blank, neutral, as if her soul had fled to that deep, dark place where her sorrow lived. He'd done the right thing, but it didn't feel right. He could hear his mom's voice in his head, "You do your duty and you just keep going."

He looked at the row of dark monitors, saw a VR helmet and gloves lying on the desktop, several CPU towers and a couple of printers. "It looks like you could run the world from here."

"I almost did."

This wasn't about him, but he still felt the bitter bite of betrayal, the pain of the knife burying itself in his back. He'd had no reason to trust her, certainly no right to expect anything from her except deceit, but he had. Damn it, he had.

"What now, Phoebe? Or should I call you Nadine?"

Chapter 16.

Peter Harding climbed into the rear of his limo and found Stern waiting for him in the richly appointed interior. He stretched his long legs out with a sigh of satisfaction, enjoying the faint vibration of the automobile's leashed power underneath him. Like him, this car was damn near invincible. The same company that supplied the President's vehicles had made it. No one could get in or out unless he wanted them to.

Stern gave a warning look toward the open partition separating them from the driver. "The police have a suspect in custody. They want us to come in."

"Okay." Harding tensed. This wasn't part of the plan. "The police station, Jim."

The driver nodded and put the car into motion. Stern closed the partition and added, "They want to put her in a lineup for our...edification and possible identification."

"Her?" Harding felt a sharp bite of excitement. If it was Nadine...

"Her. And under no circumstances will you give any sign that you recognize her, Harding. Under-No-Circumstances. We don't want her cutting any deals with the Feds, now, do we?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"She'll need a good lawyer. We get her one, get her bailed out. My boys pick her up and-"

"And bring her to me!" Harding felt his loins tighten as he thought about having Nadine. Back in his power where she was supposed to be. Where she was meant to be. He'd teach her a lesson she wouldn't forget.

"This is not the time for that. Not while you're in the press spotlight. Let it go. Let her be the one you didn't get. I'll make sure she disappears after I find out who and where her partner is. Once they are dead and buried, so is RABBIT." For a moment anticipation gleamed in Stern's dead eyes.

"I have to be sure it's her," Harding insisted. Damn Stern just wanted her for himself. The asshole liked a challenge. Well, he wasn't getting this one. Nadine was his. "I'll be careful. But I get her first. When I'm through, you'll have no problem convincing her to talk. She'll do what she's told, just like she used to." He looked at Stern. "You can get your jollies off her partner, but I get her."

Stern shrugged, but Harding could tell he was annoyed. For once, he wasn't sure Stern would do as he was told. He thought again about the anonymous note he'd received, warning him about secrets and people who knew them. It was a pity, because Stern had served him well, but maybe it was time to bury his secrets. Permanently.

Being booked wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to Phoebe, but it came in a close second. The worst part was the loss of control, the loss of her personal power. It brought back echoes of her past and threatened her steely grip on the present. Only pride-and Bryn Bailey's watchful gaze-kept her from breaking down while being strip-searched and then deloused. She donned her jail garb with outward nonchalance, pleased and surprised at how steady her hands were, all the while wondering if she'd ever be free of the smell of the delousing solution, wondering if her own scent would ever return.

The female uniform who'd done the search held the door open, but that door would only take her to another cage, a different level of confinement. Phoebe paused in the doorway, feeling the barrage of law-abiding Kirby eyes hit her. Felt like more than three guys. The trio sure packed a personality wallop.

She lifted her chin and drawled in her most Southern accent, "Interesting experience. Kinda brought back memories of my wedding night. Also brief but thorough."

She heard a muffled choke from Jake's brother, Luke, and couldn't resist looking his way. He was trying hard not to smile. She winked at him before letting Bryn prod her into an austere interrogation room. Bryn indicated a chair across from the court appointed lawyer and left the room, but Phoebe knew she and the Kirby's three would be watching through the mirror affixed to the wall. She chose the one chair that put her back to the mirror, then reversed the chair's position and straddled it. With her elbows propped on the straight, battered back, she clasped her hands to keep them from trembling or twitching.

This was Pathphinder's most difficult game. The board was obscured, her pieces scattered, and she was facing a public defender who looked as if he was about to wet his pants.

Dewey would have come on the run and played a better lawyer, but that was likely what Phagan's Fibbie was hoping he'd do. She had to protect her knight. She didn't have that many pieces to play.

"I'm Calvin. Calvin Dobbs, Miss...er..." His voice wavered up and down several octaves and his glasses slid to the end of his nose, dislodging a bead of sweat that had been hovering there. It dropped off the peak, then ran down to rest in the indention above his upper lip.

"You call me whatever you'd like to, Calvin. I'm very flexible." Phoebe smiled at him, but that only seemed to throw him into further disarray. "Have you ever done this before?"

He gave her a panicked nod that could have meant yes or no. "Your charge sheet says your name is Nadine Beauleigh. Also known as Phoebe Mentel." He looked up, his Adam's apple bobbing frantically against the pale skin of his long neck.

Phoebe sighed and gave him a sad, soulful look. "Is it a crime to change your name?"

"Um, no." He stared at her as if mesmerized. "Um, is there anyone who can...verify...your identity?" He switched his pen nervously from hand to hand.

If the guy had any more nervous habits, he wouldn't be able to get anything done. Phoebe slid her chair toward him, so that she was positioned between him and the mirror, took the pen and wrote a number on the inside cover of the file. "Call this number and punch in nine-one-one, then your number. Can you do that for me, Calvin?"

"Of...course." He took out his cell phone and dialed the number. When he'd managed it without too much shaking, Phoebe relaxed back in her chair. Now Dewey would know she'd been picked up, but that she didn't need a lawyer.

Calvin's fingers tapped against the tabletop until he stopped himself by curling them into fists. "Now about these charges..."

"I am, of course, completely innocent." She gave him her most innocent look, batting her eyelashes a couple of times for emphasis.

"Right." He wrote completely innocent on the sheet, his handwriting blocky and labored like that of a first-grader taking a spelling test.

She wished Jake were in here. He'd get a kick out of Calvin. Couldn't be a coincidence she'd gotten such a totally lame lawyer. It appeared Bryn intended to play as dirty as she could get away with.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Calvin asked. "Anyone else you want me to contact?"

"I wouldn't mind something to read. And cigarettes?"

"Cigarettes? You don't look like-"

"I heard they're just like money in prison."

His smile was surprisingly sweet. Good teeth, too. Calvin had lots of unrealized potential, Phoebe decided.

"I don't think you'll be in here long enough for that. As soon as you're arraigned, we'll have you out on bail-"

Before he could finish, the door opened. Bryn stepped into the room. "We need your client to participate in a lineup for the owner of TelTech."

Phoebe could feel her stomach muscles tighten and forced herself to relax. Peter Harding couldn't touch her while she was in jail. Wow, she thought as she followed Bryn out, who'd have thought there could be an upside to getting your butt tossed in jail?