"Go? Go where?" she asked.

"Out."

"Again?"

"Yes, again. I have work to do."

He opened the door to leave, but at the last second he turned back and cupped her cheek. When he leaned close to kiss her one last time, she couldn't have pushed away if her life depended on it. She melted into his heat, curling her fingers into his jacket.

After a second he pulled away. "Damn," he said, but he was smiling.

Then he turned around and was gone.

Dazed, she barely noticed that Todd was standing there until he spoke.

"You're not as smart as I thought you were if you like him," the teen said with surprising venom.

He shook his head and started away. She grabbed his arm. "What was that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he practically snarled.

"Todd? What do you mean?"

He cursed angrily. "Him and his work. Just like my dad."

A shiver ran down her spine. "What is just like your dad?"

"He was always leaving." He nodded toward the door. "Just like Ben."

She couldn't imagine where this was coming from. "But Ben had to leave. He said he had work to do."

The boy scoffed. "Yeah, work. Just like my dad."

Her stomach clenched. "What did your dad do?"

"He was a businessman." He snorted. "And he traveled a lot."

"What kind of business, Todd?"

"He sold stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Hard to get answers from a guy who was never around. Not that I would

believe whatever he said anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

"Hey, don't look at me like that. My mom didn't believe him, either."

"How do you know that?"

"I heard her tell him." He rolled his eyes. "I heard her yell it at him. Like a thousand times."

She searched her brain for any kind of a response. "All parents fight, Todd."

"Yeah, right, that was my parents. Just a couple of regular joes." He retrieved his video case. "It's late.

I gotta go."

"Wait. Talk to me."

"No way. I just want to get my video resume done so I can get into the workshop."

To: Katherine Bloom From: Julia Boudreaux Subject: Men Who needs them? Especially to marry. With the exception of Sterling and Jesse, I can't think of a single man who is simple and straightforward.

xo, j To: Julia Boudreaux From: Katherine Bloom Subject: re: Men Where did this come from? Kate Katherine C. Bloom News Anchor, KTEX TV, West Texas To: Katherine Bloom From: Julia Boudreaux Subject: re: Men A teenage boy.

xo, j To: Julia Boudreaux From: Katherine Bloom Subject: No!

Tell me you aren't dating boys now!!

K.

To: Katherine Bloom From: Julia Boudreaux Subject: re: No!

No, I'm not. You forget that I've sworn off dating anyone but appropriate, responsible men.

Which means I'm not dating at all because that man doesn't exist. It's enough to explain why a vibrator is all a woman really needs. Forget men. But a vibrator with extra-long battery life is priceless.

xo, j

To: Julia Boudreaux From: Katherine Bloom Subject: The problem...

... with vibrators is that they don't send you birthday cards or take you out for a romantic dinner. And you certainly can't cuddle up to one in front of a fire.

K.

To: Katherine Bloom From: Julia Boudreaux Subject: re: The problem ...

I could try.

xo, j To: Julia Boudreaux From: Katherine Bloom Subject: Another problem

Yeah, you could try, but it would probably melt.

Chapter Fourteen.

It was dark when Ben drove west on Country Club Road toward Santa Teresa, New Mexico, and the sprawling golf course Lee Trevino had developed decades ago.

He didn't wear a wire or carry a gun, despite the fact that he was going in to see the biggest drug lord in the region. Carlos Morales.

Ben couldn't risk it since they would undoubtedly frisk him when he entered. That is, if he could get inside.

Ben knew it was crazy to walk into the Morales camp alone. But he felt crazy these days, felt something deep and burning pushing him on. But he wasn't worried about the danger. All Taggart wanted was for him to get the lay of the land, poke around a little bit. All Ben wanted was to see Morales's reaction when he asked about Henry. The reaction would tell a lot.

He took the fork in the road that turned into Westside Drive. He headed north now, along the two-lane road that was lined by a private tennis club and the adobe shacks that had remained resistant to gentrification. The Morales compound was a sprawling hacienda just before the New Mexico border. A tall adobe wall surrounded the house, and thick wooden gates blocked an interior view. And the placement of guards around the perimeter made it look more like a prison than a home.

Years ago an infamous lawyer, reported to have unsavory ties, had lined his walls with curled barbed wire in an attempt to stay safe. But the man's enemies didn't have to get to him at home. He was gunned down in his office on a holiday when no one was around.

Morales, it was said, wasn't going to make the same mistake. The man rarely left the hacienda. Which, Ben had often thought, explained why he did insane things. Imprisoned behind his own walls, Morales had drug money and drug power, bringing him a long way from the days of growing up on poverty-filled dirt streets in Juarez. But money hadn't bought him freedom.

Ben pulled up to the gate. Surveillance cameras buzzed over to focus on him. A second passed before the intercom beeped on.

"Yes?"

"It's Slash. Benny the Slash." He wouldn't have suspected he had backup if he didn't know they were already in place-not that they would do any good once he was inside. "I'm here to see Morales."

"You estupido! No one comes here looking for Senor Morales."

"There's a first time for everything." He bit back his own desire to give the twerp behind the intercom a sharp set down. He wanted to get inside. "Just tell him I'm here, and I'll disregard the stupid remark."

The man took a few seconds, as if debating, then said, "Senor Morales is busy."

Now that was original.

"I'm sure he is. I'm busy, too. But I need to talk to him-"

"I told you, you stupid-"

"Look, buddy, I'm having a bad day. I really don't have time for this. I have a lucrative business proposition that I think he'll be interested in. Now, are you going to tell Morales I'm here, or do I have to sit here until he notices something's going on at his front gate?"

The man on the other end cursed colorfully in Spanish, then beeped off.

A full five minutes passed before the gate swung open, the slow, graceful sweep revealing the sprawling adobe mansion at the end of the long curving drive made of crushed terra cotta. The entire compound was flooded with light.

Sweat ran down Ben's back. He was going in. But he relished it, relished going in, relished doing something productive rather than sitting in a frilly bedroom surfing the Internet in hopes of catching a break. Posting notes, getting responses from a variety of crackpots and lunatics, but finding not a thing that led him to hold any hope of solving Henry's murder.

He didn't see a soul as he drove up the drive. But he knew he was far from alone. It was eerie how isolated he felt, watched but cut off from the rest of the world as the gates closed ominously behind him.

He parked in front of the main house in a wide area filled with BMWs, Mercedes, and a Hummer. Nice cars for a man who rarely, if ever, went out.

The minute Ben put the Rover into park and opened the door, he was met by a big man with an even bigger gun. Ben doubted the firearm was registered. A lot of firepower for a man who claimed he was a simple merchant who imported pintas and sold them around the world.

"I'm here to see Morales," Ben said.

The big guy grunted and used the tip of the machine gun to direct him. A wordless, not to mention dangerous, This way. Ben assumed there was no Please tacked on to the silent command.

Two more guards met them at the front door, both wielding guns. A third appeared out of the shadows and frisked him. Finally, when Ben was nudged into the house, he stepped into an indoor courtyard filled with birds, a fountain, and thick green flowering plants. The only sound that reminded him that he wasn't in a South American jungle was the buzzing of the surveillance camera following him along the brick path that ended with another guard waiting at an archway leading into the house.

For all the people he was encountering, not a single word was uttered. He could think of a few people back on Meadowlark Drive who could stand a lesson or two in silence.

Which made him think of Julia. Which made him feel a moment of regret that he had walked into this crazy situation with an unpredictable drug lord.

And suddenly the thought of not finishing off what he had started in her office made him wish he had waited a few days before setting out on this insane path. Sex first. Die later.

Which was idiotic and proved just how much Julia Boudreaux had rattled his brain. He might want Julia, and want her more than he had wanted any woman, but it was in a purely sexual way. She made his body burn, his balls get tight, his dick go instantly hard. But he wasn't about to change his life for any woman, least of all a woman who didn't know the first thing about who she was anymore. Though he had to admit he was impressed that she was trying to make something different out of her life after she decided she needed to change. Most people stayed as they were, taking the path of least resistance. But not Julia.

"If it isn't the infamous Benny the Slash."