Scott ran back down the hall to his bedroom. He dressed quickly in his running gear then checked on the girls. They formed one big lump under their comforter. He shut their door then went to the back door but realized he hadn't brushed his teeth. He ran back down the hall to his bathroom and brushed. Then back down the hall and out the door. He tried to appear nonchalant when he rounded the corner of the house and saw Agent Pea. And she saw him.

Her heart jumped. She couldn't believe it, but it actually did. As it had the last three mornings. She tried to hide her excitement.

"Morning, Judge Fenney."

"Morning, Agent Pea. Where's Agent Smith?"

"Too much pizza. Or the flu. Everyone else is hunting for the Arabs, so it's just me today. Your body is in my hands ... so to speak."

"You know, Agent, I was thinking. Perhaps we should dispense with the formalities and the 'sir' and go with Scott and Cat. At least while we're running. Since we're going to be running every morning until the trial."

"Are we now?"

"I hope so."

She stared openly into his eyes from a distance of five feet.

"I hope so, too, Judge ... sir ... Scott."

Their gaze remained steady for a long moment then she suddenly felt awkward. She broke eye contact.

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

They ran west on Lovers Lane. After they had both gained their rhythm, Cat spoke.

"You were quite a football player in college, sir ... Scott. I googled you. And watched that game against Texas on YouTube."

"You can do that?"

"I can. So can you."

"I've never watched a replay of that game."

"Why not? You were incredible."

"I don't live in the past."

"Except with your ex?"

Scott's first instinct was to tell Cat that she was wrong, dead wrong, that he was past his past when it came to Rebecca. Way past. Never thought about her, never wondered about her, never imagined her with other men. But she wasn't wrong. She was right. Dead right. He had taken a vow: Till death do us part.

The scene reminded Beckeman of The Godfather, when the Corleone family went to the mats to fight a mob war. The FBI had gone to the mats to fight a holy war. They knew the date this war would be won or lost: Super Bowl Sunday. They knew the time and the place and the plan. They just didn't know the enemy. They couldn't find the enemy. But they would not stop searching until they did. Until they found the enemy and killed or captured the enemy. And won the war. Or at least this battle. The entire task force was fighting for America that Saturday morning. Except Agent Pea.

An hour later, Scott and Cat returned to the house. Cat retrieved a bottle of water and a thermos from the FBI sedan.

"Coffee," she said.

"How about breakfast?" Scott said. "The girls would love it if you joined us."

"And you?"

"I would, too."

She smiled. "Beckeman told me not to let you out of my sight, so I'd just be following orders."

She locked the car and followed Scott around the house. They entered through the back door to find Consuelo cooking and Boo waiting with the blood pressure cuff and a glass full of something green.

"Consuelo, this is Agent Catalina Pea. Cat, this is Consuelo de la Rosa-Garcia and her daughter, Maria."

"Buenos das," Consuelo said.

"Buenos das."

"Hi again, Agent Pea," Boo said.

She tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes but without much effect. Cat raised her fists as if boxing and said, "The boxer."

"I don't box," Boo said. "I fight."

"Oh, yeah," Scott said. "You hit that girl last night. I thought all the attention had ended the bullying."

"Just for a few days. Then it got worse. The mean girls, they're jealous of the attention we got." She looked at Cat. "Because A. Scott is a hero."

"I'm not a hero, Boo. Cat and the other FBI agents, they're the heroes. They saved the Super Bowl, not me."

He sat at the table and extended his left arm to Boo. She strapped on the cuff. Cat frowned.

"Are you okay, Scott?"

"One-ten over seventy," Boo said.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine." He nodded at Boo. "She's not."

"Funny," Boo said. To Cat: "Someone's got to take care of him." She pushed the green concoction in front of Scott. "Drink your smoothie."

"What's in it?"

"Don't ask."

"Did you put broccoli in there? I hate broccoli."

"You really think I would put something you hate in your smoothie just because it's good for you?"

Father and daughter eyed each other.

"Yes, I do."

Boo rolled her eyes at him, but winked at Cat. Scott picked up the green smoothie and considered it. Cat did as well.

"That looks awful," she said.

"You're not helping," Boo said.

"What's in it?" Scott asked.

"Stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Good stuff. Come on, try it, you'll like it."

He tried it. He didn't like it.

"It tastes terrible."

"It can't be good for you and taste good."

She stood and kissed Scott on his forehead. "Drink. It's good for you."

Scott downed the smoothie; Cat grimaced at the sight.

"Thank you," Boo said.

She padded down the hall.

"Cute kid," Cat said.

"I like her. Not so much her smoothies." He stood. "I need some coffee to get that taste out of my mouth. You want some?"

"Please."

"Cream?"

"A little."

He poured two cups and took them to the table.

"Cat, would you like to clean up? I can find something for you to wear."

"Your ex's clothes?"

He shrugged. "It's all designer stuff. I might be able to find one of her Cattle Barons' Ball outfits, maybe fringed suede short-shorts and a matching halter top ... and cowboy boots."

"Rich Highland Park wives wear stuff like that?"

"Mine did."

"I don't. I've got an overnight bag in the car with a spare set of clothes. I always pack one. Never know with this job."

Cat walked out front to the vehicle and stood still a moment. She inhaled the cold air to clear her head. She needed to gather herself. She was an FBI agent; he was federal judge under her protection. She had a huge crush on him; he seemed to have a crush on her. She found herself sexually attracted to him; if she knew men, and she did, he was sexually attracted to her. What the hell was she doing?

Risking her job, that's what she was doing.

But she would.

For him.

She would die for him; that was her job.

She would lie with him; that was her desire.

She would protect the judge; she wanted the man.

Shit.

Scott showered in his bathroom and Cat in the girls'. He returned to the kitchen first and set the table. Cat returned clad in snug jeans, the red running shoes, a burnt orange Texas Longhorns sweatshirt, and the waist pack; her dark brown hair hung loose to her shoulders. Her skin was smooth and tan; her eyes were chocolate brown. Her lips were red. She looked too young for how old he felt.

"I'm starving," she said.

Pajamae stumbled into the kitchen followed closely by Boo. Consuelo's huevos rancheros worked better than an alarm clock.

"Pajamae," Cat said, "you played a great game last night."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Do you want to play college ball?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do." She gestured at Cat's sweatshirt. "I'd love to play at Texas."

"I ran track at UT."

That impressed Pajamae. "You did? Were you fast?"

"Pretty fast. I ran the relays, two hundred and four hundred."