Page 8

Seven

Vicky wasn’t sure in the least about being any kind of a femme fatale, but she had to admit one thing: her new partner seemed to have strangely accurate hunches.

Of course, it would have been nice to shower, change, refresh her makeup…feel more the part. But she was ready to do whatever was needed to bring down a human being who could have done something so horrendous to another.

She’d learned that an agent could never let their temper—their horror regarding aspects of the unthinkable things one man or woman could do to another—become the driving focus. They never set out to use their weapons unless absolutely necessary.

Those who went out trigger happy—maybe justifiably—were no better than those they sought to keep away from the public, those innocents who too often fell prey to a predator.

But she couldn’t help thinking she was glad she was well-trained as an agent.

Shooting would be too kind for a man who had done what Carlos Rodriguez had done. And still, the law was the law: those who upheld the law couldn’t become murderers themselves. Officers, detectives, agents…all were human beings first. But most were good people, and most intended to uphold the law. Every once in a while, there was a bad egg in the blend. Bad eggs needed to be ejected but, by and large in Vicky’s experience, most men and women in law enforcement were good people who had sworn to uphold the law. They were just that: officers, detectives, agents, not judge and jury.

Besides, if Carlos Rodriguez wound up dead, it would be difficult for any attorney to prove his son was innocent.

At the local offices, they’d been offered any assistance they might need. Jude had wanted her wired, and he wanted the mics and earpieces that would allow them instant and constant communication. Vicky knew he was right. They needed to be tighter than hell on any move they made that had to do with Carlos Rodriguez.

Assistant Director Arnold had been in contact with the SAC in charge in Nashville, and Vicky and Jude were assured there would be undercover agents in the bar as well as agents out in the street.

Special Agent Tom Conner would be playing at the bar—in his personal life, he was a drummer with a country western band known as the Ranch Hands, and that was something intriguing as well.

Carlos Rodriguez might hang out at the bar, but it was a legitimate business. A few words from the right person, and the Ranch Hands had been hired for the night.

It was time.

And while it seemed like a wild card play to Vicky, it was good to have the backing of the local office, good to know they were well covered.

Someone else in the hierarchy had apparently discovered that many of Jude’s hunches turned out to lead them right where they wanted to go.

Jude dropped Vicky off about a block from the bar, allowing them both to arrive separately. He made a face as he did so.

“What?” she asked.

“I don’t even like that you’re doing this and—”

“Hey, not to worry. I’m armed and I think I’m safe on the sidewalk with the guy inside drinking already, according to our sources.”

“Right. I’m just—”

“If you’re too nervous, if you doubt me—”

“Not for a second. It’s just difficult not to think about what this man is capable of doing. Go get him, Tiger!”

He left her and drove off.

Vicky did manage to walk the block without incident. She paused before going in. Large letters announcing that it was the Cattleman’s Watering Hole sat atop the entry, along with artistically rendered skeletons raising glasses and playing musical instruments.

Local charm aplenty.

Vicky smiled as she entered. Tom’s band was four pieces: lead guitar, bass, keyboards, and drums. The lead guitarist was in jeans and a tailored shirt, doing a good job with a John Denver song as she entered.

The place was decently large with a huge horseshoe bar and at least thirty to forty tables seating different-sized parties, from just two people to eight and ten. The band was on a stage a good distance from the bar. The acoustics in the place were good; the music could be heard without causing deafness. She saw Tom behind the drums, giving his attention to his music, and backing up the lead singer on his mic now and then.

She saw Jude was already seated at the bar, in conversation with a man who looked like a banker or businessman on the one side and another fellow in a ten-gallon hat, jeans, and denim jacket on the other. He saw her and inclined his head just slightly. There were just a few tables on the far side of the bar. And the band could be heard from those tables but not seen.

She walked around the bar. Jude’s new cowboy friend looked over at her and whistled softly; she pretended she didn’t hear him and walked on around to the tables in the rear.

She was in luck.

She’d seen images of Carlos Rodriguez, but even if she hadn’t, she would have known the man. He was an older version of his son, a good-looking man of about seventy, and she assumed he might have his son’s charm when he chose to smile as well.

The two-top next to his was open, and she slid in sighing softly as she leaned back.

“Are you all right, miss?” the man asked her.

“Oh!” she said, straightening and giving him her best—and most awkward—smile. “Oh, I, um, yes, I’m fine, just tired. Meetings all day, you know.”

“I do know, I’m afraid. But you’ve come to the right place. Low-key, good music. But you’re not from Tennessee, are you?”

She shook her head, grinning. “Here on business. And you?”

“Nashville is my home. I travel a lot on business, but Nashville is where I choose to lay my head.”

“But,” she said, hopefully giving him a charming and curious arch of the brow, “you’re not from here originally, right? Latin American. You have the…” She broke off and laughed softly. “My grandmother called it the ‘Ricky Ricardo’ charm. She loved that old show— I Love Lucy . Because, I think, she had a mad crush on Ricky Ricardo.”

He laughed. “Okay. No, I’m not from Tennessee originally. Medellín, Colombia,” he told her, “and thus my charming accent. Not so common here, eh? Texas, California, Florida…more Central and Latin American peoples among their populations.”

She smiled. “Ah, so here you can make use of that Ricky Ricardo charm!”

“Ah, you say that I have it?” he queried.

A pretty young cocktail waitress arrived at her table, a frosty glass of beer on her tray.

“The lady hasn’t ordered yet,” Rodriguez told the waitress.

“It’s a gift from the band. The drummer said they met and discussed beer while waiting for their luggage at the airport. You don’t have to take it, of course, but—”

“No, no, thank you, and thank him!” Vicky said quickly.

She heard Tom’s voice in her ear as his lead player announced they would be doing a slate of Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, and Bob Dylan. “Nonalcoholic!” he assured her.

“Thank you!” she said easily.

The waitress nodded with a smile and moved away.

“And I had wanted to offer to buy you a drink!” Rodriguez said.

“Well, thank you. I am finding that in Nashville, people are very kind!” she told him. She offered him her hand. “Sir, you seem very polite and caring. I’m glad to meet you. You’re so different from…” She paused, wincing. “Um, well, you know, those who are just… I’m sorry. Too much information, but… I don’t know. I believe in, well, a relationship, one with loyalty and…again. I’m so sorry, we’ve just met and we’re in a bar and I suppose one assumes in a bar… Anyway, I’m Vicky. Vicky Tennant!”

“Carlos,” he told her. “Carlos Rodriguez.”

“Now the young drummer—very circumspect young man, unlike so many others. But Carlos—may I call you Carlos?” she asked.

“Of course. It’s what my friends call me. And I like to believe we’ll be friends!”

“Me, too!” Vicky said. She indicated the chair next to her. “Join me? And if I’m awkward…forgive me. I don’t know why, but I feel I can tell you anything. I’m terribly awkward. I’m just out of a horrid relationship. He—he cheated on me, and I don’t believe in cheating. If something is over, it’s over. Just tell a person. And then…our money was my money, family money. And somehow he knew the right people, and he managed to take a fortune from me as well. Oh, dear! I must sound so pathetic. Forgive me, and please, you are not obliged in any way to sit with me or talk with me!”

He leaned toward her. “Tell me about this man. There are things that you can do, when you know the right people.”

“Oh? Oh, but…well, I may feel hateful, and I may wish that he’d fall into a vat of oil and boil, but I could never do anything,” she said. “First, I’d go to jail immediately. Everyone knows how I feel about him!” She looked away, blinking back feigned tears. “I just don’t understand…”

“Something can be done,” Rodriguez said, setting his hand over hers. “You and I…we are kindred spirits, my dear. Friends who could be so much more. And I take care of those who are mine!”

“You could… I mean, not that I would, but maybe, and I can’t help but ask… Would there really be a way to make such a man pay?” she asked. “Did you ever…”

“I am a man, Vicky, a real man. There are certain problems in my life I have handled on my own. But I know crimes when I see them. And there has been justice that I have meted out myself…and you can find justice in dark ways, too, ways that don’t connect back to us. I like you,” he told her, coming so close that his whisper touched her cheeks, “and I think you like me. And I think your way of seeing loyalty to a man is real and…you could be loyal to me.”

“I could be so loyal! It’s what I believe. A man is a man, and a woman…she is lucky when she is cared for by such a man, and she needs to give him everything!”

She felt his hand on hers.

“Are we friends?” he asked her softly. “Because we can go somewhere. My place. Yes, let’s leave. And I can really show you what such a man can give you, in the physical sense, and in that of the heart and soul!”

How did she play that?

She curled her fingers around her glass, thirsty, which was fine, of course—Tom had seen to it that her beer was nonalcoholic. No chance of even getting tipsy.

She heard Jude’s voice then, low and warning. “Stop everything. Don’t drink that. I’m coming over. I’ve got it on camera. Keep away from him!”

“What?”

She hadn’t meant to say the word with such surprise. She’d felt she was getting somewhere with the man, and he might have been about to give her more.

Jude was there. Tall, composed, and perhaps more frightening because it seemed that he was stoic, so very contained.

Except, as she lifted her glass to her lips, he suddenly reached out, slamming her hand with the glass back down on the table. She stared at him—truly stunned and mystified.

But he turned to the man at her side.

“Carlos Rodriguez,” he announced. “Federal agent. And you’re under arrest.”

“For what? Like hell I am. You wait until my attorney gets his hands on you. Federal agent, my ass! You’ll be knocking out license plates at a federal prison yourself, I guarantee it!” Rodriguez announced. “It’s not illegal to speak with a woman at a bar—”

“It is illegal to spike their drinks, and we just recorded you doing exactly that,” Jude said flatly. “Oh, and there would be the syringe you had in your hands a few minutes ago. I’m willing to bet it’s got another narcotic or something worse in it. Spike the drink, make her agreeable, get her out here, and knock her flat with whatever is in that thing? Feel free to call your attorney. He can meet us, because you are guaranteed your rights no matter how many of those rights—including the right to life—you take from others.”

“What?” Rodriguez demanded. “You’re going to go on about that wretched judge who couldn’t drive to save his life—”

“No. But for the record, I understand that he was an excellent driver. It’s just hard to drive when a car’s computer has been hacked. That’s neither here nor there at the moment. If you would please stand, sir—”

“Hell, no. I don’t know what you’ve read, what you believe, but it’s obvious you don’t like me. And that’s too bad. Get the hell away from me!”

Jude shrugged. He stepped back.

Just to allow two of the most muscle-bound men Vicky had seen outside of a wrestling ring come up to face Rodriguez, asking politely again that he rise. When he didn’t, they picked him up by the shoulders, checking him for weapons and taking the syringe Jude had spoken about, and then cuffed him before prodding him toward the door. Ironically, Tom’s band was busy doing a Johnny Cash number—“Because you’re mine, I walk the line.”

Vicky shook her head, staring at Jude. “I almost had him saying something—”

She broke off; a woman was approaching the table, her hands gloved as she reached for Vicky’s glass. “Excuse me, Special Agent Tennant. I’m Leona from Forensics.”

“Hi, Leona, thank you,” Vicky said, and she waited for the woman to leave with the glass before she stared at Jude angrily again.

“I almost had him!”

“What, was he suddenly going to spill everything? Vicky! Listen to me. The cowboy next to me is really Duncan Clark, undercover with the state police. They’ve had three rapes occur to women who had been at this bar and were left in nearby alleys, assaulted but drugged so heavily they couldn’t remember a damned thing. But friends said they’d been here. He had surveillance going, but, Vicky, I saw what the man did. He’s using heavy-duty hallucinogens that are knocking out thought and memory, and we didn’t dare let you take a swig of that beer. It wasn’t the drink—I didn’t want him hitting you with what followed the drink. But beyond that…”

“Beyond that, what?”

“We have an edge with Rodriguez. We found a connection between him and the captain of the Lucky Sun , Ronald Quincy. Clark managed to find footage through facial recognition that put the two men together in Miami where it seemed a huge haul of cocaine slipped through the fingers of everyone working down there. There hadn’t been any connection at the time to either man. The drugs were suspected of being routed very circuitously through Mexico and then into the Gulf. But while you were brilliantly chatting up Rodriguez, Aidan called. Vicky, we couldn’t take a chance of you winding up in the hospital for several days. According to Duncan, one of his drugged victims almost died.”

“But…” she began.

Her voice faded. She was a young woman, agent or not. She’d learned in college to keep her eyes on her drink at all times, to never accept anything she hadn’t seen poured herself.

But today…

She had been so hopeful. But Jude was right.

He’d had her back.

Just as he’d promised.

“Hey, you are more than welcome to keep talking to the man. It will just be in an interrogation room. You were doing incredibly well, but then I knew you would. I’m sorry, but we couldn’t risk…”

“I have no interest in losing days or dying!” Vicky assured him. “And I’m assuming those giant fellows have Carlos moving on into that interrogation room, so…”

“Let’s head on out.”

She nodded, rising with him, ready to head around the bar and out the door. But she grasped his hand before he could go out, causing him to pause with her in front of the band.

Tom was drumming but he saw them there, nodded, and grinned.

The song ended and she applauded enthusiastically. Jude did the same.

“Great drumming, and the same to everyone else!” she said.

Tom Conner nodded to her, grinning.

Young agents could certainly know their stuff—and be damned good at other stuff as well!

They headed after the arresting agents and Carlos Rodriguez. Vicky stood still for a moment, leaning slightly back, closing her eyes, grateful it had taken her a long time to sip the beer—of course, she would not know until she saw the surveillance footage just when he’d managed to slip his drug into her drink, but the thought she might have swallowed down a good bit was…

Ironically sobering!

And now, of course, the gloves could be off. The man was in their territory; they would have him in an interrogation room.

They were met by Jude’s new friend, the “cowboy” agent, Duncan Clark. Clark told them Rodriguez had been offered a phone call to his attorney and had also been read his rights.

“Our SAC is out of the office,” Duncan told them, “called to DC on this investigation. He’ll be back tomorrow. But I’ve spoken with him, and he’s all for the two of you doing anything you can. They have rooms in DC where everyone has been working on this, but the director himself seems to believe it’s important that the two of you stick close to the field and keep up with your people dedicated to—and close to—some of the major events. Seems like the director is afraid of even more than a murder for hire by AI.”

“No attorney yet?” Jude asked.

“Nope,” Duncan told them. “Carlos Rodriguez got angry, apparently, and assured the arresting agents he’d done nothing, they’d all pay, and when he was ready, they could be damned certain he’d have an army of attorneys who could make them go to jail themselves.”

“And he believes it,” Vicky murmured. “The man gives new meaning to narcissism.”

Jude shrugged, shaking his head and looking at the other two.

“He did play all his activity brilliantly for a long time, and he instilled a sense of being lesser into his son that was truly…awful, for a father to a child! But his confidence that he can get away with anything makes him careless. He honestly believes he is above the law and that he’ll just kill anyone in his way. He will trip himself up. He’s actually let it have an effect on his mind. So, any objections with my playbook? I’ll take him first, leave, and then send Vicky in? I don’t believe the man realizes he was taken in by an agent yet, and when he sees you here…”

“Wait. This is completely aboveboard? He really hasn’t demanded his attorney?” Vicky asked. “The way he was talking—”

“Come on, Vicky. It’s not strange he changed his tune. You know every word I said was true. He’s a misogynist, a chauvinist, and a narcissist. He’s sure we can’t touch him, no matter the evidence,” Jude said, shaking his head. “When he realizes that isn’t the case, like it or not, he’ll need help. Now, I believe he’ll be screaming for his attorney. Or attorneys. Maybe he has an army of them to be called upon when he feels he actually needs them, high-priced people. But I don’t think he is aware that federal prosecutors can be damned good, too.”

“Right, but if he’s been arrested on the drugged drinks and the rapes, those are really state charges. And state prosecutors can be brilliant, too, but how are we—” Vicky started to remind him.

Duncan Clark stepped in. “We’ve got total local cooperation. Local, state, and federal agencies have been after this man a long, long time. There isn’t an agency out there that won’t be happy to see him behind bars—no matter where the bars are as long as they’re the kind made out of metal and don’t include a happy hour,” Duncan said dryly.

“Did you want a crack at him?” Jude asked the man.

But Duncan shook his head. “As far as the undercover work in the area goes, I’m a rancher with whole hell of a lot of cows.” He shrugged. “Helps that my family does own a ranch. But no, I’m staying undercover until we know we’ve got this sewn up, so I’m happy to observe!”

“And we’re thankful you’ve been observing!” Vicky assured him.

“You bet,” Jude said. “All right, I’m going in. I’ll be out quickly. Vicky, then you’ll go in. And remind him that he’s a man, oh, what a manly man! And that he should take responsibility.”

“Copy that,” Vicky murmured.

He left her in the observation room along with Duncan Clark.

They watched Jude walk in, throwing a folder on the table. Vicky wondered what was in it. They couldn’t really have much paperwork on the man and if they did, none of it could warrant an arrest. If so, he’d have been in the room long before now.

“You!” Rodriguez spat out.

“I know. It must be a shock, right? You tried to kill me earlier,” Jude said.

Rodriguez laughed and leaned in. “If I’d tried to kill you, you’d be dead.”

“Wow, that’s a weird confession,” Jude said.

“Not a confession at all. I said if ,” Rodriguez told him.

“Hmm. But when something is personal, when something demands that a man—a real man—takes care of something himself, you’re all over it. Like when you killed your daughter-in-law and her sister,” Jude said.

Rodriguez shook his head, looking truly amused. “Don’t you people ever know what you’re talking about? My son is doing time for that. He’s on death row.”

“And you really don’t give a damn. You managed to hire the right people to kill the judge, but that didn’t help any. Victor is still sitting on death row. But even if he’s your son, better him than you.”

“If you’ve dragged me in here for that, you’d best open that door and let me walk out. There’s no way in hell you can arrest me for that crime!”

“The thing I don’t understand is how a real man can let his son pay the price for what he did,” Jude said. “Unless, of course, your wife was a cheater, too, and you don’t know if that kid is yours or not.”

“Trust me, my wife knew better than to ever cheat on me!” Rodriguez said.

“Because she knew you would chop off her limbs—toes and fingers first—arms, legs, head as a finale?”

“My son is a man,” Rodriguez said. “Whores deserve what they get.”

“But you and I both know you are the one who committed the murders. And Peggy’s poor sister! What the hell was that?”

Rodriguez shrugged. “You’re asking me to think as Victor? Well, you know, maybe Peggy met the guys she was fooling around with through her sister. Then maybe the poor girl just had the ill luck to be there at the time. Victor confessed. He got the death penalty. We’re appealing the penalty. The poor boy wasn’t mentally fit when he performed such a deed.”

“I thought such a deed made him a manly man, taking care of business,” Jude said, as if confused. “And since Victor is truly a manly man, he stepped up to take the blame. Now, in my book, that’s what a real man would do.”

Rodriguez looked down at his hands. “Victor…he’s never been interested in the family business, and I’m afraid…”

“You see your life, already mostly lived, as more important than his? I mean, that’s why I assume you were really taken in. Instinct kicks in with most people. For most people, the lives of their children are sacred, they’d do anything to save them. But…hey. Maybe you truly suspect he’s nothing like you, and he isn’t really your son.”

“If that’s why I’m in here, I’m leaving!” Rodriguez thundered.

“Oh, no, that’s not why you’re here. That’s just a conversation we’re having. I told you at the bar—we have you on video spiking a lady’s drink. Right now, we’re testing that drink, and we’ll find out just what you put in it. She would be the fourth—that we know about. And as I think I mentioned, the one girl almost died, so that’s an attempted murder charge—”

“There was no attempt to murder anyone! I told you, if—big if—I ever attempted to murder someone, that someone would be dead!” Rodriguez thundered, smashing a hand on the table.

“As I mentioned before, I’m here. And you did try to kill me today. No, wait, you hired someone to kill me because it worked so well with the judge. But tricks can get old and… Well, here I am. The car isn’t in great shape, but…” Jude paused, shrugging, leaning closer to the man. “Here’s the thing—when you do something yourself, it gets done. And you know what? I think you’re angry and frustrated because I’m not sure you know how to get even with the person who failed you!”

He glanced at his phone suddenly.

“Oh, excuse me. Lab tests are in. We’re about to know what you tried to dose that young woman with!”

He stood and exited the room. As he did so, Vicky knew she was up.

“I think I’ve aggravated him, and it’s up to you to finish him off!” Jude told her as she passed him in the hall.

The guard at the door opened it for her; she thanked him and went in.

The look of stunned surprise Carlos Rodriguez gave her couldn’t have been feigned. Even after the events at the bar, he hadn’t realized he had been taken in by a woman.

He stood up instantly.

And he started around the table with a furious growl, reaching for her throat.

The door burst open almost immediately with Jude, the guard, and Duncan Clark bursting in. But Carlos never got his hands around Vicky’s neck.

She’d been trained to break such an attempted hold, and she’d added a damned good kick, as trained, along with her defensive arm movements.

He bellowed in pain and rage and despite his wild attempts to attack in turn, he was quickly overpowered by the three men and handcuffed—with his cuffs securely set around the bar at the interrogation table.

“Thanks, guys, but I think I was fine,” Vicky said pleasantly. She stared at the man who returned her glare with a hatred that was palpable in the room. “He really isn’t much of a man. I mean, you saw, a pathetic little woman like me had him down and groaning in a flash!”

“I will cut you into little pieces, I will make you bleed!” Rodriguez roared. “You’re dead! You’re dead! And do you know what? I’ll show you! I will do it myself this time—I will do you like I did Peggy and her bitch sister. Finger by finger, toe by toe, bloody, bloody chops at the elbows and the knees. And I’ll wait until you’re begging to die to slit your throat!”

“This is being recorded and it’s all on video,” she said pleasantly. “Such a man! You overpowered two innocent women and tortured them to death. God alone knows just how many other people you killed. Death penalty, beyond a doubt. Your son—the real man—will need his day in court again, but… Well, we’ve got what we need to get working on his freedom. Of course, your incarceration will be for the rest of your life.” She leaned on the table, just beyond his possible reach. “Well, there may be a bit of hope for you—”

“Not much,” Jude said. “The results from the lab are in. What a concoction, including hallucinogens. He’ll definitely go down for the rapes and attempted murder, and now that we have his confession on tape—”

“Inadmissible!”

“Well, we’ll figure that all out when we bring in our prosecutors,” Jude told him. “Boy, she did knock you down a peg, eh?”

Rodriguez roared with fury, promising Jude, Duncan, and the guard that he would kill them, too, kill them himself, to trust no one else…

“Hey, you know, if you want to tell us about the person—or persons—who are hacking into systems to kill people, it could help you at trial,” Jude told him. But even as he spoke, he frowned, pausing to glance at his phone.

He looked at Vicky, grimly shaking his head.

“Too late. Our people found a route to your murder-for-hire friends on the web…but the site disappeared even as they found it. Too bad. Could have helped you.”

“I will kill you!” Rodriguez vowed again. “And I will have an attorney now. My attorney. He’ll make a bloody legal mess of all of you. I will kill you!”

He was so angry he seemed to have lost his mind or his sense of purpose. Either that or he believed that even as guilty as he was, as he even admitted himself to be, an attorney would get him off.

Because he was who he was.

It seems almost impossible he’s been managing a billion-dollar criminal empire for years!

Then again…

Maybe he hadn’t been. Whoever was running the cyber-murder machine just might have known the man for a long, long time.

“Yeah? Well, whatever you’re doing, it won’t be tonight,” Jude said. He nodded to the guard who called for backup to bring the raving Rodriguez to a holding cell.

“I, uh, think we desperately need to call it a night,” Jude said, smiling at Vicky as Rodriguez was pulled away.

“Yeah, blow my cover and take off!” Duncan said, grimacing.

“What?” Vicky asked, looking at him worriedly.

Duncan laughed. “Not your fault. In fact, you’ve managed more in a night than I have in weeks. I wanted to stay away because of my undercover work, yet now I am afraid that he might know I’m involved with the law. So I won’t be going back out again undercover for a while. We don’t know this guy’s connections, and since he knows who I am now, too…”

“I’m so sorry!” Vicky murmured.

“Don’t be! Not your fault the man is a violent maniac—or that instinct tells us to hop in when another agent is under attack,” Duncan said. “And…you caught a rapist who nearly committed murder in his dosing manner. You got him to admit he killed his daughter-in-law and her sister. I don’t know where we are on the murder of the judge, but we have incredible cyber people. If a site went down on the dark web, it will pop back up again.”

“It all takes time,” Jude said regretfully.

“But we have to take our victories, even little ones, when we win them,” Duncan said.

Vicky reached for his hand, shaking it firmly. “None of it was possible without you,” she assured him. “But we have been up and going forever and ever it seems, so…”

“Get out of here!” Duncan said. “When are you heading back?”

Vicky turned to look at Jude, who was looking at her.

“Did you want—”

“One more crack at Rodriguez,” Vicky said.

“I know our SAC will approve,” Duncan said. “Especially with not just the assistant director but our big director of the Bureau determining that this case may be about something even bigger. Of course, when you speak with him again, it may be with his lawyer,” he added.

Vicky looked at Jude again. He smiled slightly and nodded.

“All the better,” she said. “Nothing like getting to know a good lawyer.”

Aidan and Carly had discovered there had been a connection between the judge’s “accident” and the “accident” that had occurred with the Lucky Sun .

Millions of dollars in drugs. Dealers who could almost twist time and space.

And on the yacht…

Attorneys.

It might not be a bad thing at all to meet the lawyer—or lawyers—representing the man.

“So, now…” Jude murmured.

“We find somewhere to sleep for the night,” Vicky said, wincing. “And a shower—so that we can put on the same clothes since our bags exploded with the car.”

Jude shrugged. “Yeah, pretty sure that most malls and clothing stores won’t open again until the morning.”

“I can shop in two minutes,” she told him.

“You know, I’m betting you can. Department store? We can both shop in two minutes—if we can get a clerk to ring us up that quickly. But for tonight…”

“I’ll give you the address to the place we use,” Duncan told him. “They always have rooms reserved for us.”

Duncan gave them the information that they needed as they left together.

In the car, Jude murmured, “Duncan’s a good guy, a good agent.”

“And he was already on Carlos Rodriguez. That was really darned lucky for us tonight,” Vicky murmured.

He looked over at her. “You know I have absolute faith in you, but—”

“You interrupted when you needed to, and I get that. I’m grateful. Hey, I’m going to a hotel, not a hospital!” she assured him. “Duncan is a good man, a good agent. And so are you,” she added quietly.

He turned to look at her and smile. “Thanks.”

For a moment there was something else there. And Vicky realized if they’d met through friends, maybe even at a party…

They’d have gone out. And there might have been more. So much more.

She smiled to herself. She’d thought him somewhat of an internet imbecile and couldn’t begin to imagine what he was doing on this. But he’d shown he was amazing in the field. And while she might understand the strange and invisible world of knowledge and information that traveled through the web and servers to a greater degree than he did, she was no expert herself.

He had proven himself. And she believed she had proven herself to him and, in the proving, she had discovered she found him to be far more than capable, a man who could balance humor and integrity and…

Really good looks!

But…

They were professionals. They were good agents. They loved their jobs.

And still…

Their rooms were next to each other on the same floor. And they both lingered just a minute, saying good night, maybe both of them imagining just a little bit more.

Then they went into their rooms. It had been one hell of a long day. After a long hot shower, Vicky found sleep.

However, her sleep was filled with dreams.

And they weren’t about the cyber world, criminals like Carlos Rodriguez and those with whom he conspired, but rather…

They were a wee bit X-rated, all involving the man who slept next door.

She woke in the morning with a start, wincing.

Dreams were one thing. It was time to start the day.