Sharp, hot tears had burned in her eyes. Not knowing what else to do, she had pressed her face into his neck. How could she let herself get attached?

He had woken, groggy with sleep, and said her name. Just that, slipping his arm around her body and

pulling her to him, wrapping her close. "Julia," he had whispered again, like a blessing.

She held on as he settled back into sleep, watching his chest rise and fall. And she had promised herself right then that she would stop being afraid.

Now, hours later with Ben gone before she had awoken, Julia cocked her head proudly at being so

mature. She would play it cool. See how things went. And she wouldn't push him away out of fear.

She would be calm, cool, and collected.

The pieces of her life were falling into place, her world coming together in a way that she could have only dreamed about. But there was still that one plaguing piece that remained loose, stopping her from putting her house in order. What she had done to Sonja-even if her intentions had been good.

Julia groaned. She had tried to push Sonja and Ben together to help herself-which had nothing to do with good. It was understandable that Sonja would feel used. Julia had called, had left messages, and still hadn't heard a word back from the hairdresser. And Julia had to make things right. So if the hairdresser wouldn't return her calls, then she'd just have to apologize in person.

But thoughts of apologies and putting houses in order disappeared when she walked into the kitchen and saw the note propped up on the kitchen counter.

Her heart plummeted into her stomach. Was this one of those Dear Jane kiss-off letters?

Every ounce of maturity fled as she picked up the single sheet of paper.

My lovely Julia, Okay, not a horrible way to start. . .

I wanted to be there when you woke up, Then why aren't you?

but I have some business to take care of.

The business had to be Henry's murder.

"Oh, Ben," she sighed. She hated that he couldn't leave it alone, but she also understood the relentless need to do what you could for a friend.

Regardless, her stomach churned with worry. Ben had probably left early to find out what he could about the hookers that Henry had been involved with. Now she had to sit tight and wait for him to return.

In the meantime, she had one more thing to do.

Ben drove up the gently curving length of Castille Drive and stopped in front of the address that Taggart had provided. The house was small but well-kept, a nondescript brick veneer covering the bottom half like wainscoting.

He didn't hesitate. He threw the Rover into park and took the cement sidewalk up to the front door. The need to bring closure to this case ticked through him. For the past few months he'd been filled with a crazy, all-consuming need. Now the craziness had fled. He felt like a cop again, levelheaded and ready to put Henry's murder to rest, then move on in his life. He knew he'd never move completely beyond it. He would always have to live with the loss-the guilt because he hadn't answered the phone. But he realized now that the craziness was fading because ultimately he accepted that he hadn't been in that alleyway that night because Henry didn't want him there. Which made it possible to be a cop again. It was what he did. It was who he was.

And Julia had brought him back to that.

He wanted to end this so he could make a life with her. So he could show her how much he loved her.

Love.

The word caused a kick in his chest. An intense feeling that he wasn't sure how to deal with. As a cop, he had worked hard to maintain distance. As an undercover cop who was never sure if he'd come home at night, he had hated to think of what that uncertainty would do to someone who loved him. So he had kept his distance.

But Julia had turned all his rules upside down.

After ringing the bell, he stood back. No one answered. He rang the bell again. Still nothing. So he rang it again. Finally, after the forth ring, he heard movement.

The man who yanked open the door was medium height, with dark hair and dark eyes.

"What?" the man yelled, his gaze narrowing against the sun.

"Are you Lionel Esposito?"

Instantly the man's expression changed, and he started to slam the door shut. Ben flattened his palm against the hardwood, then grabbed the guy by the collar as he tried to flee.

"Argh." Lionel groaned in pain at being jerked around. "The shoulder, man. Watch out for the shoulder."

Ben pushed inside, then kicked the door shut. The small nondescript house was filled with expensive furniture- frequently a sign that money was ill-gotten. Often criminals maintained a look of normalcy on the outside, but then lined the interior with the wealth they were unable to show or risk suspicion.

There was also a smell that made the hairs on the back of Ben's neck stand on end. Sweet and feminine. Like perfume and hair spray.

Lionel tried to move, but Ben slammed him against the wall with ease as he mentally tabulated his surroundings with his old efficiency.

"Tell me everything you know about Henry Baja's murder."

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"

Ben slammed him a second time.

"The shoulder," Lionel cried. "Watch out for my shoulder!"

"Okay, let's talk about that shoulder. What happened to it?"

"I fell, man."

Slam.

"Ahhhh!"

"If you want me to play nice, then you better start talking. How'd you hurt your shoulder?"

"Okay, okay, it was an accident. I was cleaning my gun and it went off."

"Interesting. All gunshot wounds have to be reported. I wonder why yours wasn't?"

"It wasn't bad enough to go to the hospital."

Slam.

Lionel was practically crying by now. "Stop, stop."

"I"ll stop as soon as you tell me the truth about shooting Henry."

"I didn't shoot him, man!"

There was something in his voice that spoke of truth.

"I swear I didn't. He shot me!"

Ben whirled the man around. "What did you say?"

"That scuzzy Henry shot me! I knew he was bad news. I tried to keep him away. But he was determined."

"Determined to do what?"

"Mess with the girls."

"The girls?"

"Come on, man. Don't play stupid. Henry was using the girls. He was blackmailing them, and me.

What was I supposed to do?"

That knot in his stomach twisted. He hated the verification that Henry had gotten sucked into the underbelly of the crime world.

"If he shot you," Ben persisted, "then why is Henry dead and you're still here?"

"All I was trying to do was scare him off. I wanted him to know that his threats weren't going to work anymore."

"What threats?"

"What threats, indeed?"

Ben jerked around to find the barrel of a gun staring him in the eyes.

Julia pulled up to the entrance of Sonja's Salon. She was a tad on the nervous side. If Sonja refused to

answer her phone calls, would she refuse to accept her apology in person, too? She thought about turning around and leaving. But she couldn't do that. She had to face the music. Back in her high heels, she found the evenly spaced stepping stones weren't as easy to traverse as they had been in her sensible heels. Julia wondered what Sonja would say at the sight of her.

She smiled. If Sonja hadn't been upset, she would probably throw back her head and laugh. If anyone could appreciate the wild clothes, it was the flamboyant hairdresser. Julia knocked on the screen, then pulled it open. A curling iron was turned on, and a bottle of hair spray stood on the counter with the top off. A brush was tossed into the vacant chair.

Julia heard voices coming from inside the house.

"Sonja?" she called out.

No one answered.

When the voices got louder, Julia looked for the door that led into the house.

Ben stared at Sonja and shook his head. "You shot Henry, didn't you?" he said coldly.

Sonja's face was red, her eyes darting from Ben to Lionel. "If I hadn't, he would have killed Lionel instead of just wounding him."

"Start from the beginning," Ben demanded.