"I was there that night," he continued, his eyes intent on mine. "Sheila and I argued and I left. But I hated to leave it like that. So I came back..." His voice faltered and he rubbed a weary hand across his face. Clearing his throat, he continued, his voice thick. "When I came back, she was dead. And I ran. I was terrified they were coming for me, too. Kathleen, it's my fault Sheila's dead."

The pain on his face was difficult to see and I reached out to take his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. I had no idea what to say. I was in shock and still didn't know why someone would want to kill him.

"But why would they kill Sheila?" I asked, confused.

"To try and get to me, I think," he answered. Before I could ask why, he gripped my hand tightly. "And you can't trust that firm you work for, Kathleen. They're involved, too. I don't know how far exactly, but they can't be trusted." A chill went through me as I remembered telling Blane about Sheila's cell phone and how, hours later, it had disappeared from my apartment.

"Involved in what?" I asked. I was confused. Mark was being vague and if Blane was involved or, more importantly, I was in danger, I wanted more information. "Who do you work for?"

"I work for a software company," he explained. "They're called TecSol."

"Why would someone kill Sheila because of your work?" None of it made any sense.

"It's about Eve," he said. "I knew about the problems and I went to your firm for help. Someone betrayed me. They told me to keep quiet or I'd regret it. I didn't believe them. I thought I was doing the right thing. But Sheila paid the price and now they're after me." He looked like he would have said more, but something out the window caught his eye. Then his hand was like a vice on my arm as he dragged me out of my seat. I had just enough time to see a man come through the diner's door before Mark dragged me back behind the counter.

We ran through the kitchen, Mark shoving a couple cooks and a waitress out of the way as we barreled past. I winced when a stack of plates went crashing to the floor. Mark kept pulling me relentlessly until we burst out of the back door into an alley. A glance right before the door shut behind us showed me the man had followed us through the kitchen.

"Run!" Mark shouted, shoving me forward. I didn't need to be told twice and sprinted down the deserted alley, Mark hot on my heels. The door crashed open behind us, slamming into the brick wall and I didn't turn around but redoubled my efforts, lungs burning for air as my knees pumped.

A gunshot rang out and I shrieked, ducking around a corner. Mark followed me as we collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Kathleen," he gasped, "Take this," he thrust his backpack at me. "We'll split up. It's me they want. I'll be in touch. Now go!"

"What?!" I practically screeched. "I'm not leaving you!" I could feel tears stinging my eyes and I blinked them away. I was not leaving him alone. With surprising strength, he shoved me away.

"Go!" he said, and before I could utter another protest he took off in the opposite direction. I was frozen for a moment in shock before I was able to command my feet to move. Then I sprinted down the alley, his backpack slung over my shoulder.

What I saw at the end of the alley made me slide to a stunned stop. It was him. The man in black. He was facing my direction and was pointing a gun at me.

Well. That was certainly disappointing. I filed that emotion away for later.

Instinctively, I spun and started back the direction I'd come and then skidded to a stop again. The man who had been chasing Mark and me appeared at the other end of the alley. I was trapped.

My head swiveled back and forth, trying to decide what to do. I spied a door off to my left and flung myself at it, praying it was unlocked. The G.o.ds must have been feeling pity for me because, miracle of miracles, the k.n.o.b turned under my hand. I bolted through the doorway just as I heard the sound of a bullet ricocheting off the brick where my head had just been. Turning, I twisted the deadbolt on the door.

I was in what appeared to be a small deserted store, empty save for a few boxes. My harsh breathing was loud in the quiet room. I looked around frantically for anything that could be a weapon. A rickety wooden chair caught my eye and I ran to it. Grasping its legs, I tried to pry one off. It always looked easy when they did it in the movies, but rickety though it may have looked, it was st.u.r.dy enough to withstand my fruitless attempt to break it apart. I called it a few choice words under my breath.

A sc.r.a.ping noise behind me made my breath freeze in my lungs. I grabbed my still fully intact chair and moved back into the shadows, holding it over my head. The door I'd come through burst open and slammed against the wall. I heard footsteps coming closer and I bided my time. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and swung the chair.

"Ow! Dammit! Stop, Kathleen!"

Hearing my name startled me and I dropped the chair, then ran forward into the meager light. It was my man in black. I had knocked him down to the floor and he was rubbing the back of his head. He'd dropped his gun and I quickly picked it up, moving a safe distance away. Sitting up, he looked at me.

The gun felt strange in my hand. I hadn't held a gun since my dad had died. Nonetheless, I pointed it at him with steady hands.

"How do you know my name?" I demanded. "And why were you chasing me?"

"I wasn't chasing you," he said calmly. Too calmly for someone with a gun pointed at them, if you asked me. "I was trying to help you." He got to his feet and I stepped back, eyeing him warily.

"You have a funny way of showing it," I said. Even to my ears I sounded b.i.t.c.hy, but I thought I had the right. "Why should I believe you? And you still haven't told me how you know my name." He smirked and I had to ignore the way my stomach tightened in response. No man should be allowed to look that good after getting cracked across the head.

"I made it a point to find out your name after the incident at the courthouse." Oh. Well that made sense. I felt an embarra.s.sing flush of pleasure that he'd wanted to know about me.

"Who are you?"

"You seem to have a knack for getting into trouble," he said, ignoring my question. "First the crazy loon at the courthouse then you're spying on Junior." He rolled his eyes when he said "Junior" and I took that to mean he didn't think much of James. "And today you have a man chasing you with a gun." Well, when he put it like that, it did seem rather bizarre. And he didn't even know about Sheila.

"This isn't how my life usually is," I protested, then wondered why I was defending myself to a man who wouldn't even tell me his name.

"Who are you?" I demanded again, using the gun for emphasis. He looked at me and for a moment I thought he wasn't going to answer.

"Dennon," he finally said. "Kade Dennon. Now why don't you tell me why you're here?"

"I'm here because some freak was chasing me with a gun," I said. I didn't say anything about Mark. Mark had said not to trust anyone at the firm and I didn't really know anything about this guy, just that I'd seen him at the courthouse and the firm, albeit after hours.

The gaze he leveled at me said he didn't believe me for a second, but I resolutely pressed my lips together. He'd moved closer without me noticing, and in a flash he ripped the gun from my hand. A cry of dismay fell from my lips.

"Let's get out of here," he said, shoving the gun in the small of his back and taking my arm. His manhandling didn't sit well with me, especially with my pride hurting over how easily he'd taken the gun from me. I pulled away from him.

"I can walk, thank you," I said stiffly. I was suspicious of him, even though he claimed he had been trying to help me. We made our way to the front of the building, which was as dark and deserted as the back.

"What happened to the other guy?" I asked, wondering if Kade had killed him. He seemed to read my mind.

"He's alive," he answered, but didn't offer anything further. Unlocking the front door, we stepped out onto the street and I was struck by how normal everything looked. A few minutes ago, I'd been terrified and running for my life. And yet, the sun was still shining and people pa.s.sed by on their way to do normal everyday things. It felt like I was stepping out of the Twilight Zone.

"Let me help you with that," Kade said, reaching for Mark's backpack I still had slung over my shoulder. I quickly stepped beyond his reach.

"No thanks. I'm fine." Our eyes met, and in that instant, I knew that he wanted whatever was in the backpack. He must've seen Mark give it to me, which meant he was lying to me. I felt fear again in the pit of my stomach. I'd almost rather have someone chasing me. At least then I knew which side they were on. Kade was trying to gain my trust, which scared me. I turned and started walking back towards the courthouse, Kade falling into step beside me. His hand gripped my arm, tighter this time, so I couldn't easily pull away.

I didn't know what to do. He had a gun. That pretty much trumped anything I might do to get away from him. I thought of Mark and worried about what trouble he was in and if he'd pulled me into it as well.

As we neared the courthouse we ran into a group of high school kids there on a field trip. There had to be at least a hundred of them crowding the sidewalk and steps around us. That's when I had an idea.

I stopped abruptly in my tracks and Kade jerked to a halt beside me. As he turned, a questioning look on his face, I said as loudly as I could manage, "Oh my G.o.d! It's that guy on TV!" I added a high-pitched squeal just to seal the deal. The effect was instantaneous. Girls close to me turned, got one good look at him, and started screaming. A wave of bodies surged toward us. I saw a brief look of horror on Kade's face before he was mobbed. He couldn't maintain his grip on my arm as the girls pushed between us and I quickly took advantage, sliding into the crowd.

Turning quickly away, I headed toward the courthouse door, glancing behind me only once to see all the cameras and cell phones extended toward Kade. He raised his head and our eyes locked. He did not look happy. At all. He looked coldly furious, actually. But he tipped his head slightly to me, as if to acknowledge he'd been outmaneuvered, and I knew I hadn't seen the last of him.

Chapter Six.

I hurried through the courthouse to the other side where I'd parked my car. As I was pa.s.sing by security, I had a thought. Peering through the crowds, I saw Hank, and made my way toward him.

"Hank, you have a minute?" I asked him and he glanced around in surprise. A grin creased his face when he realized it was me.

"For you? You bet," he answered, and motioned toward another guard, Carl, to take his place. I retreated to a less crowded part of the foyer and Hank followed me.

"What can I do for you, Kathleen?" he asked cheerfully. It had occurred to me that Hank, who knew nearly everyone who pa.s.sed through these doors on a regular basis, might know who Kade was.

"I was wondering if you knew someone," I asked. "His name is Kade Dennon. Ever heard of him?" Hank's grin faded.

"What do you want to know about him for, Kathleen?" His brows had drawn together in a frown.

"I just ran into him, that's all," I answered vaguely. "He seemed...different." I also thought: s.e.xy, secretive, dangerous and scary, but didn't say that. Hanks lips pressed together disapprovingly. I think he saw through me.

"You don't want to be gettin' involved with Kade, Kathleen," he said seriously. "He's bad news." Duh. As if I couldn't figure that part out on my own.

"What do you mean?" I pressed. Details, please.

"Kade's nothin' but a hired gun," Hank said, and now he looked downright disgusted, but it wasn't directed at me. "He stays just beyond the reach of the law and works for whoever will pay him the most to get the job done." I thought of the creepy Jimmy that worked for the Santini brothers.

"You mean like Jimmy Quicksilver?" Hank barked a short laugh.

"Jimmy's an amateur compared to Kade," he said. "You send Jimmy when you want to send a message. You send Kade," his voice lowered, "when you want someone to just disappear." I didn't like the sound of that.

"So he works for the Santini brothers, too?" Somehow, I couldn't imagine Kade answering to anyone. Hank shook his head.

"Kade works for himself. The Santini brothers may hire him, but he don't work for them."

"Okay, thanks for the information, Hank," I said hurriedly. My inner clock had been ticking and I wanted to get away from the courthouse before Kade freed himself from the teenage mob. "I'll talk to you later." I walked away, but not before I saw the worried look on Hank's face as he stared after me.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful as I went back to the firm and finished out the day, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the two gorillas in my cube: the flowers from Blane and Mark's backpack. I won't say I chickened out of confronting Blane, but I'd had enough stress for one day. Since I didn't want any more questions from co-workers, I took the flowers home with me.

I had to work at The Drop tonight, and for once I was glad for the diversion. I plaited my hair in a French braid and hurriedly donned my uniform. Uncomfortable leaving Mark's backpack in my apartment after Sheila's phone had disappeared, I stowed it in the trunk of my car.

As I locked my door, I noticed a moving truck outside. Someone was moving into Sheila's apartment. It took me by surprise and I had to swallow back the sorrow that threatened. I walked to my car and saw a girl carrying a box upstairs. She was about my height and dressed all in black. Her hair was jet black and hung raggedly down her back. One streak had been dyed red. Hmm. I didn't think she and I were going to be buddies, if appearances were anything to go by. I would have introduced myself anyway, just to be neighborly, but was already running late. Sliding behind the wheel, I headed downtown.

I was bartending alone tonight, Wednesdays not being usually very busy, and Tish and Jill were waitressing. Romeo was throwing a big Halloween bash since it fell on a Friday this year, so we spent our downtime putting up decorations. I was glad to have pulled the Halloween shift - I knew from previous experience that tips were usually pretty good on Halloween.

"So, what are you dressing as, Kathleen?" Tish asked me, as we hung a strand of mini lighted jack-o-lanterns over the window. The question took me by surprise. I hadn't thought we were supposed to dress up.

"We have to wear a costume?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Romeo thinks it'll bring in more customers," she answered. "And I was told the girls should try to s.e.x it up a little." She rolled her eyes at this and I agreed. I doubted Romeo had told Scott to "s.e.x up" his costume.

"I have no idea," I said honestly. "What are you dressing as?" She brightened then and I had a feeling of foreboding.

"Well," she said excitedly, "I had this idea. You know how you do such a great Britney Spears?" Okay, don't judge me, but I love Britney. Not everyone can be a Pavarotti fan. I'd realized back in high school that I could do a dead-on impression of Britney. They'd found that out at The Drop one night when I'd been too enthusiastic in singing along when one of her songs came on the jukebox.

"Yeah..." I said slowly, wondering where Tish was going with this and sure I wasn't going to like it.

"I thought it would be pretty neat if you dressed as Britney and I dressed as Madonna! I already talked to Jill and she's coming as Christina. Deirdre's going to be Beyonce. What do you think?" I'd stopped stringing the lights, my jaw agape as I stared at her in horror.

"You can't be serious," I said when I finally found my voice. "There's no way I can pull that off!" Tish waved her hand dismissively at me.

"Of course you can! I even have an outfit you can use." When I still stared at her, speechless, she explained with a shrug. "I dressed as Britney a few years ago. It's in the back. I'll give it to you so you'll have it for Friday."

There was no way I was going to be able to talk her out of this. Tish was nice but could be like a bulldog when she got something in her head. I had misgivings, but maybe it would be fun. After all, I hadn't dressed up for Halloween in years.

"Fine," I said, giving in with ill-grace. "But I am not kissing you." She laughed and I made a face at her before going in the storeroom for the box of black and orange candles that were to be the table centerpieces.

The bar looked very festive by the time we were done and I felt my spirits lift. I was a holiday junkie. Any holiday would do. I celebrated everything from Fat Tuesday to Flag Day. Customers were slow but steady and had cleared out by the time we closed, which was always nice since we had to clean and set up the bar for the next day before we left.

I was finishing drying some bar gla.s.ses when Tish appeared and set a paper bag on the bar.

"Don't forget the braids," she reminded me, and I rolled my eyes at her.

"You leaving?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Unless you want me to wait for you?"

"No, that's fine," I said. The bar was in a decent neighborhood and I was parked close. I'd never felt uncomfortable leaving late at night and told Tish she could go on and I would lock up.

Fifteen minutes later, I was finished and locked the door, juggling my purse and the paper bag in my arms. I turned the key and checked to make sure the deadbolt was secure. When I turned around, I was startled to see a man standing in the shadows. A flash of fear went through me before I processed the fact that his silhouette was familiar. Blane.

He was leaning against his car which was parked against the curb. My heart raced from his sudden appearance, but I couldn't resist drinking him in. He'd opted for casual again and his jeans hugged his legs, tapering to his negligently crossed ankles and boots. He wore a dark shirt that I couldn't see clearly due his leather jacket. His arms were crossed as he watched me.

"If you could stop scaring me half to death when you show up, I'd appreciate it," I said dryly, sensing a pattern in how he'd gotten the drop on me yet again.

"Did you get the flowers?" he asked, ignoring my reprimand. I immediately felt guilty for not thanking him. My mother had taught me better manners than that and I was sure they had cost a small fortune. Flowers had been a rare luxury for my mother when my father was alive. Though she had always chastised him when he bought them for her, saying they were too expensive, she'd secretly loved them. The specialness of the treat had rubbed off on me.

"I did, thank you," I said stiffly. "They were beautiful." I took a small step back, careful to maintain a safe distance away from him. His lips twitched, suppressing a smile as he observed me.

"Is it just killing you to thank me?" he asked, and I bristled.

"Of course not," I lied, my cheeks growing hot from embarra.s.sment that he would a.s.sume my manners were lacking. "I don't know why you sent them, that's all."

He pushed away from the car and suddenly was standing much closer to me than was comfortable for my heart rate. I instinctively took another step backward only to run into the wall. Blane moved closer until I had to tip my head back to look at him. The faint light from the streetlamp was at his back and illuminated me even as it threw his face into shadows. He was close enough now for me to smell his cologne as it mingled with the scent of leather from his coat.

"How was your date?" he asked in a soft voice. His hand reached out to snag my braided hair and he slowly slipped off the band holding it. I felt my breath seize in my chest. I knew he'd asked something, but I was having a hard time remembering what it was as his fingers started loosening the plaited strands of my hair. Then I remembered and blurted out an answer.

"Fine, it was fine." My voice was too breathless. I searched the darkness of his face, trying in vain to see his eyes. His fingers kept methodically unbraiding my hair.

"Sounds thrilling," he said dryly, and I had the fleeting thought that I should defend James.

"Wh...what are you doing?" I stammered. He'd completely undone my hair and was now letting the wavy strands slide through his fingers. I'd always been a sucker for someone touching my hair. Add to it Blane's overwhelming sensuality and natural charisma and I felt like I was going to melt into a puddle of goo on the sidewalk.

"Touching you," he replied in a low voice, and I think my heart rate tripled. Those two words conjured up all kinds of images that I had no business thinking about. I tried to remember why I needed to stay away from him.

"Stop," I said, and it was a truly pathetic protest. Really, I was surprised that he didn't laugh at me.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked in that same raspy tone that went through me like an electric current. I couldn't think with him so close, with his hand in my hair, his other hand now closing over my hip. I blurted out the first thing I could think of that would help me get back behind my defenses.

"Did you find out anything with those numbers on Sheila's phone?" His hand stilled in my hair.