As they turned down the street where Barclay's was located, J.T. slowed down and pulled over by the corner, cutting the lights. David continued down the road, parking across from Barclay's. He made no immediate move to get out of the car.

"What's he doing?" Christina asked.

"I think he's on the phone."

"What should we do?"

"Wait and watch."

The minutes ticked slowly by. David was certainly having a long conversation. The fact that he'd parked directly across the street from the auction house suggested that he wasn't worried about being seen. But J.T. couldn't think what business David could possibly have at Barclay's after midnight. The street was quiet. They hadn't seen another car in the past five minutes. The commercial neighborhood was completely deserted. It would be different tomorrow morning. The auction house would be filled to overflowing with people wanting to get a look at the diamond.

Christina put a hand on J.T.'s arm. "Look. I think he's getting out."

Sure enough, the light went on in the car as David stepped out. He closed the door and adjusted his coat. Then he started across the street.

"David is going into Barclay's," Christina said with excitement. "Should we follow him?"

Before J.T. could answer, a pair of headlights at the far end of the block suddenly came to life. David froze in the street, seemingly blinded by the unexpected bright light. The car's engine roared.

J.T. realized what was about to happen a second too late. He had his hand on the door handle when the car hit David head-on, flinging his body like a limp rag doll halfway to the next intersection.

Christina screamed in horror.

J.T. jumped out, trying to catch a glimpse of the car that had just hit David, but it sped past them, moving too fast for him to read the license plate. The night was too dark. He couldn't make out the model or the driver. He ran down the street to David, worried that it was too late. Christina was right behind him. She collided with him when he stopped abruptly.

He grabbed her arms. "You don't want to look."

"He could be alive. He could need our help," she said, her eyes wild and scared. "Let me go."

He did as she asked. David's crumpled body lay in a heap in the middle of the street, a pool of blood under his head, one leg twisted beneath him, a bone sticking through his pant leg.

"Oh, God." Christina gasped, putting a hand to her mouth.

J.T. knelt down and put his finger on David's neck in search of a pulse, but there was none. He turned to Christina. "I'm sorry."

"He's dead?" she asked in disbelief. "How is that possible? He was alive a second ago. I think I'm going to be sick."

"Take a deep breath," he advised.

"We watched it happen. We just sat there and watched it happen," she said. "We should have gotten out of the car. We should have screamed or said something. Warned him. If we had, we could have saved him." Her voice grew more agitated with each note. J.T. stood up and put his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace.

"It's not your fault, Christina. We were down the street. It happened too fast. We had no chance of warning him."

She shook her head. "It's so wrong. This can't be happening."

"It is happening, and I need to call for help." He took out his cell phone, keeping one arm around her as he dialed 911 to report the accident. After he hung up, he looked down the street. No one had emerged from any of the buildings. If they hadn't been following David, there would have been no witnesses to the accident. Only he didn't think it was an accident. The car had not attempted to slow down or stop. Someone had been waiting for David to get out of his vehicle.

J.T. let go of Christina and bent over David's body. He didn't want to disturb the scene, but he knew that once the cops arrived, they would take over the case, and it might be days before he could get the answer to a simple question. He slipped his hand into David's coat pocket.

"What are you doing?" Christina asked, keeping her distance. She had both arms wrapped around her waist now.

"Looking for David's cell phone." He found the phone and pulled it out, flipped it open, and pressed redial. A number flashed on the screen and began to ring. A moment later the call went to voice mail. "This is Alexis. Leave me a message."

Alexis Kensington? His heart sped up. Why would David, a part-time assistant, be talking to Alexis after midnight, after a party during which they had shared a private conversation? Christina was right: Something had been going on between David and Alexis. Had she known he was coming here? Had someone else known as well? Someone who had wanted to stop David from entering Barclay's?

He heard the distant sound of sirens and got to his feet. Christina suddenly moved. "I don't want to be here. I can't talk to the police. They'll ask why we were here, what we saw. Everyone at Barclay's will wonder if I did something."

"They won't wonder. I'll tell them we were coming to check on the diamond."

She shook her head. "It's no good. I'll be a suspect again. I can't have everyone looking at me with suspicion. I can't do it again."

He could see the panic setting in. He knew Christina was completely innocent of any wrongdoing, but she was right; she would be part of the investigation, as would he. She took off before he could tell her that he would protect her.

"Christina," he called. "Wait."

She ignored him, pausing only long enough to pull off her high heels. With her shoes in one hand, she ran through the parking lot next to Barclay's and disappeared around the corner. It was after midnight, and she had no car and perhaps no money. He wanted to go after her, but the paramedics and cops were turning down the street. He reluctantly watched her go, praying she would make it home safely.

J.T. had just finished giving his statement to the police when Russell Kenner came out of Barclay's. He walked over to J.T. "What happened?" he asked.

"David Padlinsky was run down a few minutes ago."

"What?" Russell asked in surprise. He glanced over at the paramedics loading David's body into the ambulance. "That's David?"

"Yeah, I think he was on his way into the building when he was hit by a car."

"Who hit him?"

"I don't know. They didn't stop," J.T. replied.

Russell's lips drew into a taut, worried line. "What was Padlinsky doing here so late? What are you doing here so late?"

"Following David," J.T. said. "He was at the Kensingtons' party. I thought he was acting odd, so I followed him. Unfortunately, I wasn't close enough to protect him from what happened."

"How was he acting odd?" Russell queried. "Did it have something to do with the diamond?"

"I just had a gut instinct that he was up to something." J.T. didn't know Russell Kenner well enough to confide in him. In fact, he found himself searching the man's face for any sign of Evan. It didn't make sense that Russell was Evan, since Russell had been Barclay's head of security for over a year. But J.T. hated to discount any possibility. Some of Evan's games lasted longer than others, and he knew Evan had been in and around San Francisco for the past several months. "How have things been around here?" he asked.

"Until now, quiet. When I heard the sirens I thought someone was setting up another distraction. I double-checked our security before coming out here."

J.T. had wondered the same thing, except that murder was a big and very messy distraction even for Evan. "Why don't I go inside with you, just to make sure nothing is off?"

Russell frowned. "Fine, but I can assure you that I have everything under control. I think that guy you're worried about has probably given up."

J.T. doubted that was even close to being true.

Evan could hear the sirens, the rumble of cars overhead. A spatter of loose dirt fell in front of him as the tunnel narrowed and turned. The front of Barclay's was swarming with police, firemen, and paramedics. They'd cordoned off the street with yellow crime tape. He had no doubt that the guards inside of Barclay's were on high alert, not sure where the danger would come from. He smiled to himself as he considered what would happen next, how surprised everyone would be, how shocked and how ruined.

He directed his flashlight on the path ahead of him, taking one last turn, then ending at the ladder set in spikes along the wall. He climbed up the steps and turned his attention to the trapdoor overhead. He loosened the nuts and bolts and opened the door, wincing as it made a small protesting clatter. He climbed through the hole and onto the basement floor of Barclay's. He paused for a long moment to make sure no one was around, but all was quiet. He was at the far end of the basement, away from the secure access areas. This was where they kept the garbage. There were no cameras, no guards, no one waiting to pounce on him.

He brushed the dirt off his slacks as he got to his feet, then headed for the back stairs. He had no interest in stealing the diamond tonight. It would give him no pleasure to lift the stone in the shadow of darkness. That was for amateurs. He had a much bolder plan in mind. He would take it when they least expected it. And then they would know who he really was.

J.T. would realize once again that he had been outwitted. He had been chasing the wrong person. And Christina Alberti would discover just what he had planned for her.

He made his way up the back stairs. He'd already studied the cameras a dozen times, knew exactly when and where to move to avoid detection. Fortunately, the area where he wanted to go was not under intense surveillance. There was nothing to steal on the third floor. All the valuables were in the basement.

Tonight he wasn't here to take anything, but rather to leave a few clues behind.

His first stop was Christina's office. It was child's play to open the lock on her door. Her office was neat, organized, a place for everything and everything in its place. She worked so hard to maintain her illusion of complete control. Too bad it wouldn't last beyond tomorrow. Her past had given him the ideal avenue for distraction. He turned on her computer and hacked into her e-mail program, leaving her a little present. If she didn't come back to her office tomorrow, someone else would find it. Either way, she would become a target. All eyes would be on her and her father.

He left Christina's office and moved silently through the dark building. Some guards were talking in the distance. Through one of the windows police lights flashed. The officers were still conducting their investigation into the hit-and-run accident-a poor Barclay's employee struck down and killed in seconds. It was so tragic, so sad; it would add even more color to tomorrow's event. The employees would be discussing the victim. They would be distracted-again.

It was amazing how easy it was to convince people to look the other way.

Evan returned to the basement. He slipped through the trapdoor, pulling it closed behind him. Once he was out of the tunnels, he moved quickly to the car he'd left parked a few blocks away. He had one more stop to make before dawn.

Christina's teeth were chattering and her body was still shaking as she ran back downstairs to pay the cab driver. She knew she would have to explain when J.T. returned, and she had no doubt that he would be back with even more questions about why she'd run away from a criminal investigation.

God! What had she done, she asked herself again as she returned to her apartment. She couldn't seem to stop drawing suspicion to herself. She'd heard those sirens and panicked. She could imagine all the questions about why she was there, the nature of her relationship to David.... It would thrust her into the spotlight-the last place she wanted to be.

She knew she could have stayed with J.T. He would have told the cops that they were together when it happened. He was a federal agent. They would have believed him. She hadn't needed to run. It was an old habit. How many times had her father told her, "You hear sirens, you run." It was an instruction right up there with "Wash your hands before you eat" and "Say your prayers before you go to bed."

But she wasn't a criminal, and she shouldn't have left. Because this time it wasn't about her-it was about David.

She sank down on her sofa and let out a sigh. David was dead. She couldn't believe it. One minute he was alive, and the next he was gone. Had he known in that split second when he saw the car bearing down on him that it would be the last breath he would take? Had he felt the impact? Had he screamed? She knew that she had screamed. Her throat was still raw.

Had it been an accident? It seemed unlikely. The car hadn't even tried to slow down. Why?

It had to have something to do with Barclay's. Why had David gone there so late at night? Was he after the diamond? He certainly had the credentials to gain access to the restricted areas. His presence in the building after midnight, however, would have alerted the guards and Russell. David would have had better luck stealing the diamond in the middle of the day, when everyone was milling around-if that was his intent.

Getting up from the couch, she walked into her bedroom and changed into sweats and a T-shirt. She didn't even think about getting into bed. She suspected she would not be alone for long. She had to think about what to do next before J.T. came looking for her.

Picking up the phone, she dialed her father's number. As she'd expected, he didn't answer. "Dad," she said, still hearing the panicked note in her voice, "I really need to talk to you about that diamond. My assistant looked at it earlier, and tonight he was killed in a hit-and-run accident. I'm worried about you, about the diamond, about everything. Please call me, or find a way to get in touch with me. I might not be alone, though, so whatever you do, be careful. I've got the FBI breathing down my neck." She hung up the phone and drew in another deep breath. She had to calm down, think rationally.

It was after one o'clock in the morning. In less than twelve hours they would be auctioning off the diamond. How could she let that happen without being positive it was authentic? On the flip side, how could she prove it wasn't? On the original report the appraiser had seen a mineral inclusion in the shape of a heart, but in different kinds of light, it was possible that the inclusion couldn't be seen. Could she really stop everything based on a gut instinct that something that small was off?

Her conscience screamed, Yes! Deep in her heart she knew she should share her concerns with Alexis and Jeremy and let them make the final decision. But as soon as she said one word, they would look at her and wonder if she was involved in something dishonest, trying to pull a fast one...just like her father. She'd made a new life for herself. She couldn't destroy that life without more information.

She'd decide tomorrow. Hopefully, her dad would get in touch with her by then and confirm that no copies of the necklace had been made and that he wasn't going to do anything to try to stop the auction or steal the diamond.

A knock on the door gave her a little jolt, even though she'd been expecting it. For a split second she thought that it might be her father, but it was J.T. standing in the hallway. He strode into her apartment without waiting for an invitation, his expression a mix of anger and worry. He shoved her purse into her hands, then grabbed her by the shoulders. "Are you all right?"

She felt a surge of pleasure that his first words were filled with concern and not accusation. "I'm fine."

"Good. Now what the hell were you thinking-taking off like that?"

"I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry. I don't know why I ran. I've never seen anyone killed right in front of me, especially someone I know, someone I was talking to a few hours earlier. I was in shock."

"That's not why you ran. You ran because you were scared that you would be implicated in the accident. You didn't want to talk to the cops. You didn't want anyone at Barclay's to know you were there-did you?"

He gave her shoulders a little shake.

"You're hurting me."

His grip eased slightly, but he didn't let go, his eyes filled with stubborn determination. "Answer the question."

"Okay, you're right. I panicked-for a lot of reasons. I know we didn't do anything wrong. I just didn't want to explain why we were following David." She paused. "What did you say to the police?"

"Not much. I told them what happened. David started to cross the street. A car came racing around the corner and hit him without slowing down or stopping. I also told them I couldn't ID the car." His gaze narrowed on her face. "You didn't recognize it, did you?"

"No, it was too dark. The lights were too bright. They were in my face. I saw David freeze and I heard the engine roar. The next thing I knew he was flying through the air." She put a hand to her mouth, feeling another wave of nausea at the memory. "I can't believe he's dead, J.T. What happened? Was it an accident? Was it deliberate? Who could do such a thing?"

He stared at her for a long moment, as if assessing the sincerity of her questions. Finally he let out a sigh and gave a weary shake of his head. "I don't know anything for sure, except that it wasn't an accident. Someone ran David down on purpose. It had to have something to do with why he went to Barclay's after the party. While I was talking to the cops, Russell Kenner came outside. He was concerned that the accident was a diversion."

"Oh, my God. I never thought of that. Please don't tell me David was killed as a distraction."

"Kenner and I checked on the diamond. It's still secure in the vault, and I don't think Kenner will be leaving it alone for the rest of the night." J.T. ran his hands up and down her arms. "You're trembling."

"I'm cold."

"And scared." He looked at her with compassion. "I know you're mixed up in something, Christina. You need to trust me. People are dying."

She wanted to trust him. She really did. She wanted to lean on him. His shoulders were broad and strong. But how could she do either of those things? J.T. might be willing to protect her, but what about her father? Would J.T. be willing to protect him, too?

It was too big a risk to take. She could wait a few more hours. It would all be over tomorrow. As soon as the diamond was sold, her life would go back to normal. She could get through a few more hours, couldn't she?

She set her purse down on a nearby table. "I don't know what you want me to say." She saw the disappointment in his eyes and felt as if she'd let him down. She didn't know why his opinion was important to her. They were more adversaries than friends. Still, she had to admit that she liked him. His humor, his intelligence, his determination were very appealing, and his beautiful body had a way of getting her all hot and bothered.

It had been a long time since a man had gotten under her skin the way J.T. had. He seemed to know what was in her head even before she did. That was what scared her the most, that he would discover her secrets before she was ready to share them.

"I'm not the bad guy," J.T. said quietly. "And I'm not going to jump to conclusions about you or your father."

"You already have. That's why you're interrogating me right now. You're suspicious of me. You think I'm going to help someone steal the diamond. That's why you keep showing up wherever I am."

"I wish that were the sole reason why I came here tonight, but it's not, Christina. It's you. I can't stop thinking about you," he confessed.

She caught her breath at the husky note in his voice, the look of desire in his eyes. "Because you're suspicious of me, that's why."

"Because you're beautiful, and I want you."

"You're just trying to get information out of me," she argued. "You want me to tell you my secrets. You want me to confide in you. Trust you."

"I do want all that," he admitted. "But right now, all I want is you."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not. On the drive over here, I told myself I would just check on you, make sure you got home safely, confirm that you weren't in trouble. But as soon as I saw your face...your beautiful mouth..." His gaze dropped to her lips. "I knew I came for one reason and one reason only-you."

She swallowed hard at the purposeful note in his voice. She wanted to fight him, but her body was already on his side. She was tired of fighting herself, tired of worrying and feeling scared and alone. As he lifted his questioning gaze to hers, she told herself to say no, to play it safe, to keep him at a distance. That would be the smart thing to do, and as he'd said earlier, she was a smart girl-at least most of the time, just not tonight.