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Finn stared at me and then laughed. “You know what, that’s fucking brilliant. Yes. You do that while I jump in the shower.

While Finn showered, whistling with what I couldn’t help feeling was peculiar cheerfulness, I took a red pen and marked the hell out of Colby’s partial manuscript and then tossed it back onto the small desk.

Finn, dressing in the bedroom, called, “What have you got scheduled for today?”

“Well, I was going to throw myself on the mercy of the court, but as it turns out…”

He stepped out of the bedroom, pulling down a forest green polo shirt. “Are you free for breakfast?”

“I should probably…”

I did not have breakfast scheduled with anyone, but there were any number of things I could and should be doing.

I should check on Cherry. Reassure her that murder rarely happened at conferences—especially when there were no award ceremonies involved.

I should touch base with Lila. I should contact the conference organizers and offer to…

What?

It all felt a little bit pointless. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Troy Colby floating in the green-blue water.

Finn waited a moment, and when I didn’t complete the thought, he came over and sat beside me. “What would you like to do today?”

I said honestly, “I don’t think I can take any more panels or any more interviews or any more meetings.”

“Agreed. I’m pretty much done with Noir at the Shore. Why don’t we have breakfast away from the hotel and then figure out the rest of the day.”

“Is that allowed?” I was only half-kidding.

“It’s not only allowed, I think it’s mandatory,” Finn said, and he was not kidding.

Water + Leaves was quiet at that hour—just the occasional cyclist whizzing by on the coastal trail, the muted clatter of cups behind the counter, and the low murmur of two baristas trading sleepy gossip.

We grabbed a table near the window, facing the water. Outside, the bay was slate gray and barely stirring. A pair of sea otters bobbed in the distance, heads just visible as they floated belly-up, indifferent to the human attention they were drawing a few hundred yards inland.

Finn casually mentioned having had breakfast with Hayes there on Friday morning after our encounter at the pool.

I sipped my American, said casually, “Okay, you and Hayes are…what?”

Finn raised his brows. “Hayes and I are friends.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“There are certainly benefits to having friends. If you mean are we having sex, no. I find him entertaining company. We’ve never had a sexual relationship. I seem to recall mentioning that I’ve been in love with you for about eight years.”

I’m not prone to blushing, so I’m not sure why heat flooded my face. Maybe it was simply the open honesty of it.

“He seems pretty taken with you.”

“I’m pretty damned loveable, in case you haven’t noticed.”

I sputtered a reluctant laugh. “I did notice. I just want to be sure I’m not—”

I ran out of steam in the face of his quizzical expression.

“You’re not competing with anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. I appreciate the fact that you’re a grown-up. I want a relationship with you. If I haven’t managed to communicate that yet, maybe I should start thinking about another line of work.”

I said, “Sorry. I’m not usually so…needy.”

“Nope,” Finn said. “You’re not. This is a nice change. After the last eight years, I don’t mind hearing that I matter to you and that you’re hoping for more than a conference weekend together.”

Our breakfasts arrived. Avocado toast for me and a breakfast sandwich for Finn.

“Do you think Geo killed Colby?” I asked.

“The only thing we know for sure is Geo is somehow connected to the plot to intimidate and harass you. He seems the most likely person to have tampered with your car. Was that at the direction of someone else? Judge Baldwin? Or was it his own idea? Was Geo directed to eliminate Colby or was that a decision he made on his own? We don’t know enough to do more than speculate. ”

“I’m okay with speculating.”

Finn smiled faintly, but did not indulge me.

I said finally, “Did Olivares ask you if you thought I did it?”

“Yep.” Finn’s smile was sardonic. “I told him I knew you hadn’t because you’d spent the night with me.”

“Oh.” I’d known Finn would supply an alibi if required, but I hadn’t expected him to volunteer it at the first opportunity. But he was a straight-from-the-shoulder kind of guy. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. “Do you think he believed—”

“Which will be confirmed when they do find that security footage. You never left the room after you spoke to Colby. I never left the room after I came upstairs.”

“That’s true. But if they start investigating Colby, they’re liable to find out about I Know What You Did. God knows what evidence might be in his hotel room.”

“Yes. That remains a problem. But right now, their priority is figuring out who murdered Colby.” He added with that same cynical smile, “I told Olivares you were my editor as well as my partner. He found that very interesting.” Finn’s mouth quirked. “He’s working on a book.”

“He’s…”

Finn chuckled.

The café was only a five-minute walk along the Monterey Bay Coastal Trail, and after breakfast we hiked the trail and talked and then eventually hiked back and sat for a long time watching the long waves roll across the beach and then retreat in sizzling, sparkling foam.

“I miss the ocean more than I realized,” I admitted.

“Maybe we do six months in Manhattan and six months in San Clemente?” Finn suggested casually.

I smiled, not looking at him.

“Try not to worry so much,” he said.

“I’m okay.”

Mostly I was resigned to taking it—whatever it turned out to be—one step at a time.

Was going to prison still my biggest concern? I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t decide if my life really was in danger or if the idea was to frame me for Colby’s murder. What had Colby done to turn himself from co-conspirator to liability? What had I done to turn myself into a potential murder victim?

On the walk back to the hotel I got a text and started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Finn asked.

“Mindy. She texted to thank me for sending flowers. She appreciates the gesture and she forgives me for standing her up. However, she isn’t going to allow me to climb my way back to power on the coattails of CIA Operations Officer Bebe Bloom.”

“What the hell?” Finn started laughing, too. “ Climb your way back to power ?”

“I’m glad the series is doing well for her, but…”

“Poor Min. You know, her boyfriend left her for a twenty-year-old romantasy writer.”

I stared at him, aghast. “A romantasy writer!”

He grinned. “I love that you think that’s the worst part of that story.”

We were still laughing when we got back to the hotel, and the rest of the afternoon was as relaxed and casual as if we really were on vacation with nothing to worry about beyond where to have dinner.

In fact, we were dressing for dinner when someone knocked firmly on the suite door.

Finn moved me aside and went to peer out the peephole. He threw me a baffled look and opened the door.

Adrien English, Christopher Holmes, J.X. Moriarity, and Kyle Bari stood in the hall. They didn’t say anything, although their expressions spoke volumes—if all in different languages.

More perplexing, J.X. wasn’t even one of my authors.

“ Oh! Cocktails are tomorrow night.” I must have looked as confused as Finn. “But if you’d like to come in for a quick drink—”

“A drink is probably a good idea,” Adrien said.

Which seemed rather cryptic, especially from him.

Finn’s brows shot up. He made a sweeping Come in gentlemen! sort of gesture and stepped aside.

Adrien, Christopher, J.X., and Kyle walked into the suite. They seemed just a little bit wary, and I wasn’t sure why.

Well, Adrien, Christopher, and Kyle seemed wary. J.X. seemed his normal sociable self.

“Very nice,” he remarked, glancing around. “That view of the bay is incredible.”

The others ignored him.

Christopher said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, Keiran, because we’re all agreed that you’re a terrific editor and a good person. If you killed someone, you’d have to have a very good reason, and we’re committed to helping you in any way we can.”