"Then you'll just have to listen." She yanked her hand free, spun on the ball of her foot and nearly cried out when her panties shifted over her swollen s.e.x. Stiffening her resolve, and her knees, she headed toward the bar.

"s.e.xy jerk," she muttered to herself. He'd been the one to hold back about what he'd gotten from the recording. He'd intended to investigate the clubs on his own, claiming he'd have let her know if he found something useful. This was her case, her career and her friend's life on the line. Who the h.e.l.l did he think he was to interfere? And how had he talked her into a second stupid bet?

So what? She hadn't told him everything. She'd never intended to tell him everything. She didn't know him or owe him explanations. It wasn't his business. But whatever he'd gotten from the recording was hers. She'd win this bet, and she'd indulge in listening to him tell the truth.

The man Ian had identified as the owner sat a few stools down from the couple. She would also see if Ian was right about the man, because if the club was being used to hide women, the owner not only knew, but was likely involved. Logically, that would mean he knew who Lana was and that she'd been working on a story.

Pasting a friendly smile on her face, keeping her own agenda in mind, Kieralyn eased onto the stool by the couple. The woman smiled back.

"Hi. My name's Lana. This may sound strange, but I'm working on a story about the value of women and how they're often still treated as subservients, slaves almost, by some men." She slid her gaze to the owner and smiled. "I wonder if you could answer some questions for me."

Ian grabbed his beer and leaned back in his seat. He shifted into a position that relieved some of the pressure that even his loose slacks put on his hard-on. The conversations from nearby tables mingled with the ballad the band had switched to. He could focus and pick up the conversations from tables farther away and from the bar, but he tried more often than not to shift what he could hear to the background.

His heightened hearing made him indispensible at work. Outside, it too closely resembled an invasion of privacy. If people thought their conversations could be heard by some random guy anywhere in the room, they would never relax.

Instead, he drank his beer and pulled the music to the forefront of his mind. The pianist caressed the ivories while a saxophone player added some edge. A woman sang with a weeping softness about her lover coming home and turning her on. In his head, Kieralyn swayed her gently curved hips as she moved in time with the musical seduction. The way they'd moved beneath his hands as she'd led him to their table.

If she proved him wrong, he would gladly grant her whatever indulgence she wanted. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be interested in s.e.x play.

His touch, taunts and innuendos turned her on. And tormented him. But his blindness-or rather his scars-were the first thing she saw when she looked at him. Though he'd grown used to people being that way, it bothered him that Kieralyn was no different.

He wouldn't change his sight if he could. He'd been without it long enough to not miss it. Somehow dwelling on how life might be if he got it back seemed to diminish how he'd lost it and all that he'd overcome and accomplished since. Sounds provided his livelihood, but they also enriched his life. They allowed him to notice little things that others missed. He would only be with someone who could see that. Kieralyn, though d.a.m.ned tempting and fine for a temporary affair, didn't seem to.

She'd been a conundrum since he'd approached her outside. One minute, seemingly open and accepting of his vision and hearing. In the next, she saw only his handicap and thought it necessary to lead him around.

All the more reason to focus on why he'd come here. The owner walked behind him and turned a corner toward the kitchen and restrooms.

Ian got up and headed the same direction. Sound waves moved like the wispy clouds he remembered seeing in the bright sky as a child. They floated and flowed around the tables, chairs, walls and people, making it easy for him to walk to the hallway near the back. The volume of the music became muted like it had been on the recording.

He ran his hand along the wall to his right until he reached the first door where women's laughter came through the panel. At the second, he hesitated long enough to feel for the sign. A b.u.mpy outline of a man confirmed that it was the men's room, but he hadn't reached the end. He moved farther down the hall. With each step the music grew slightly quieter.

Ten steps beyond the men's room he encountered another door. Feeling the inset lettering of the sign on it, he discovered that it was the manager's office-likely where the owner had gone to. The sound waves eased past him and hit a sort of dead spot just ahead before they bounced off a metal door, likely an exit, and came back up the hall.

Shouts came from the kitchen opposite him. One of the double doors swung open and the heat of flames from the grill rushed across the air and brushed Ian's skin. He instinctively jerked back before logic told him he was safe and allowed him to return his focus to what he'd come to do.

See if El Dogo was around and if Kieralyn was on target about the women.

What was the dead spot? After walking another five steps, sliding his fingers along the smooth wall, he encountered a small dip. Continuing on, he returned to the smooth wall for a few feet before hitting another dip.

He tilted his head to make sure no one was coming and spent a few seconds investigating the dips, running his fingers up and down. It was as if there was a hidden door.

He cleared his mind, funneled all of his senses into his hearing, but no sound came from the other side. He edged down the wall and past the door, tapping lightly to check for hollow points. Working his way back toward the restrooms, he registered the sounds of his tapping.

Sounds he knew well from within his own lab. The sounds of soundproofing. But why would a jazz club need a secret, soundproofed room?

Exiting the hallway, heading back to his table, he hesitated outside the manager's office. The owner was talking with another man. "How do you know she didn't send something off before we got to her?" The owner was the local man from Kieralyn's recording.

"I personally checked everything she had on her," the other man said. "If that reporter had sent something off, someone would have shown up asking questions by now."

"You missed something." The owner's heart thumped in a steady six-beat with a jump on the last beat. "There is a woman at the bar pretending to be a reporter with the same name. It can't be a coincidence that she claims her story is about women and slavery."

Ian's heart lurched. Kieralyn's pa.s.sion and determination to be taken seriously was going to get her killed. How in the h.e.l.l did she think that would help Lana?

"She said people would be coming for her. For them." The South American from the recording. His heart rabbited nervously.

The owner slammed a door closed. "Neither woman would be here if you had covered your tracks better."

"Let me separate the reporter and work on her."

"El Dogo will take care of her."

Ian fisted a hand. Years of searching, of plaguing questions, and two men that knew of El Dogo stood a door away from him. Men who would be able to lead Ian to answers that would free his mother from her years of agony.

He reached for the handle. He stopped himself. Barging in and beating answers out of the men was an appealing thought, but more was at stake. He needed to take his time and a.n.a.lyze the data before him. He needed to test the waters in the club and see if Kieralyn had more information.

El Dogo had disappeared long ago. Or had he been in Miami all along? And what did he have to do with a jazz club owner and a nervous South American worried about a woman reporter who was working a kidnapping and slavery story? Something had enticed El Dogo to turn away from everything he'd said he stood for. But what?

"When? How long are we going to wait?"

"Until he orders you otherwise." The owner's voice hardened with impatience. "You aren't paid enough to question directives."

The South American grumbled low in his throat. His teeth ground together in his attempt to hold his silence. A good soldier, following orders.

"You have another a.s.signment."

"What?"

"Follow the woman pretending to be the reporter and the man she came in with. I want to know everything about her." His intonation clearly brooked no argument and indicated that Kieralyn's safety could be taken away at a moment's notice.

Ian creased his brows. Kieralyn had put on an act and tipped her hand enough to get interest pointed toward her.

"The man?"

"He resembles El Dogo, who has claimed to have no family."

Kieralyn had set a trap, but now if he didn't handle things just right she would be caught in the middle with no way out. Being followed would alert these men that he was blind, therefore essentially eliminating him as a threat to anyone. Kieralyn wouldn't be so lucky. Too easily she could become the next kidnap victim. Or worse if they learned who she was. Taking the reporter was one thing. She would have kept her information silent until she had proof and could bust the story wide open.

An FBI agent changed the rules. She would have discussed the case with her team. They would come after anyone who took her, hurt her. But she could be a greater risk if they kept her alive. Alive she would no doubt use her training to either attempt contacting her team or escaping.

Whatever else she'd done to draw attention to them, Ian couldn't let Kieralyn come to harm.

He headed back to the table and arrived just as Lisa approached and set their plates down.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"I think we'll be fine. Thank you, Lisa."

"You're welcome." She tapped her acrylic manicured fingernail on the table. "You look familiar to me."

"Really?" He picked up his napkin and unrolled his silverware.

"Yes. Have you been here before?"

"A time or two shortly after it opened."

"Hmm." She clicked her tongue. "Maybe that's it."

Ian smiled and waited for Lisa to leave. His audiographic memory allowed him to recall sounds as clearly as someone with a photographic memory recalled images. But he didn't remember his father's face. He knew the shape of his own features. He just didn't know how close the resemblance was. He had no concept of what he looked like.

Kieralyn's staccato heartbeat approached. She sat in her chair and unwrapped her silverware. "It pains me to admit it, but you are right."

"Do tell." He smiled and cut into his steak. She was going to owe him.

"They've been married seven years. The last five they've been trying to get pregnant and almost lost themselves in the process."

"So now they have their miracle and are trying to rediscover themselves?"

"Yes." She speared some food with her fork, the metal tines sc.r.a.ped lightly across her teeth. A sigh slipped past her lips and brushed across his cheek. "I'll admit that you have some amazing abilities. I'd love to know how you came by them."

"That could have been your indulgence. Instead, you owe me one." One that would likely surprise them both. Perhaps he would ask where her trust issues came from, what made her cynical. Unless he had read her completely wrong, something bad had happened. She wasn't hard or unfeeling-far from it-but there was a reserve in her. Something kept her from accepting easy touches or even the concept that a couple could fight any odds and stick together.

"You realize you don't get carte blanche with this."

"That's not how a bet works, Kieralyn." He leaned into her and whispered in her ear. "You can't set the terms of it after you've lost."

"You can't make me have s.e.x with you."

"I wouldn't force you. Then again, I wouldn't need to. You want me." He pulled back. "I know that from the pace of your heart and the scent of your excitement."

"Ian-"

"Relax." He returned to his meal and waited. "Eat."

"I need to know what you're planning."

"We have a long walk after dinner. We'll talk then."

She tucked into her meal, but tapped her fork on her plate between bites. Vibrations of anxiety rocked the air around them. "You know something. You heard something that you aren't telling me."

"I've heard many things tonight."

The South American came out and moved to the bar.

"You know something that has to do with my case. You owe it to me to read me in."

Possibly at the cost of your life if we pursue it here. He grabbed her chair and scooted her close until his thigh brushed hers. Her arm flexed and brushed against his when she raised and lowered her fork.

Ian lifted her wine gla.s.s and offered it to her. He leaned into her and kept his voice low. "Later. For now, you need to forget who you are at work and just be a woman on a date."

"I never forget." She took her gla.s.s and swallowed. "And this is not a date."

"Then set it aside." He rested his lips against hers. Wine flavored her soft lips, beckoning him to explore deeper. To discover what other tastes would be waiting for him. "Trust me. It's important."

"Then eat fast. I'm an impatient sort."

"Channel that impatience into the show you're supposed to be putting on." He slid the tip of his tongue along the edge of her mouth. "Pretend you're so into me-that you are so aroused by my touch and the sound of my voice at your ear you can hardly wait to get me home. Imagine what you want me to do to you with smooth sheets gliding against your silken skin." His bed. He kissed a path along her jaw to her ear. She shivered instantly, something he realized she did more quickly each time he closed in on her. "What you want to do with me in a large bed."

"You seem to have enough imagination for us both." Her voice cracked and she wiggled in her chair. The musky scent of her longing wafted up and arrested his senses. Emotional and logical reservations held her back, but her body reacted to his. She held no hope of denying an attraction.

If he had to use that against her to keep an eye on her, to learn more about El Dogo's involvement, he would do it without hesitation. With any luck at all, he would be able to walk away before she walked out on him.

He had no doubt that she would walk because she wouldn't trust anyone enough to let herself stay.

After wrapping up dinner and paying the bill, Ian allowed Kieralyn to lead him from the club. On the sidewalk, he linked his fingers with hers and strode toward home.

He kept to a leisurely pace and split his focus between the s.e.xy woman at his side and the South American following them. The man's heart thumped loud and rapid like he was tightly leashing violence. Taking the watch-and-wait position he'd been forced into went against his nature.

Kieralyn's hair brushed her back in a gentle sway with each step. Her body twisted slightly as she looked behind them. She expected to be followed, but she didn't seem to spot their tail.

"I should go pick up my car."

"Turn left two streets down. I know a shortcut." Having her car gave them an advantage over the South American following them. When he realized their plan, he could call for a lift, but by the time his ride showed, Ian and Kieralyn would be gone.

Kieralyn looked for a tail again as she made the turn and sighed with disappointment. She thought she'd failed at getting the owner's attention. It was a thought that could lead her to dropping her guard-a mistake that could cost more than she could afford. He could tell her she'd succeeded, but he preferred having control over the situation.

"So, what indulgence are you going to require of me?"

He had to respect a woman who would admit when she was wrong and accept whatever price she had to pay. He slid his thumb along the pulse point at her wrist and smiled when it kicked in reaction to him. "It's a tough decision. I mean, we have a certain chemistry that would be interesting to explore."

"You mean s.e.x."

"Can you honestly tell me you aren't interested? That you aren't attracted to me?"

"Wow."

"I'll take that as a yes." He sighed and wrapped his arm around her waist. The man following them turned the corner and stayed close to the buildings. "Though, as much as this may shock you, I want something else."

"Like."

"The truth."

"Ha. You think I haven't told you the truth."

"I know that you've held something back from me. My indulgence is answers."