

# Thirsty for Payback

### Sinful Business Series, Book One

### By

### Marie Astor

# Thirsty for Payback

Copyright 2015 Marie Astor

previously published as Searing Lies, Book 1 in the Love, Power & Sin Series

Excerpt from _To Catch a Bad Guy_ Copyright 2013 Marie Astor

Excerpt from _Catching the Bad Guy_ Copyright 2013 Marie Astor

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords License Statement

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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Website: www.marieastor.com

Facebook: Author Marie Astor

Twitter: @marieastor

#  Dedication:

To my family and friends—I do not need to list your names because you know who you are. You are always there for me to cheer me up, to support me, to encourage me. I am forever indebted to you for your love and unconditional belief in me.

# Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

About the Author

Excerpt from To Catch a Bad Guy

Excerpt from Catching the Bad Guy

# Chapter 1

Allyson Roberts ran her hand over the silky dress fabric. It was a beautiful dress, the color of sky blue, its smooth material cascading in intricate ruffles that must have taken forever to sew. The question was whether the gown was right for the occasion that Allyson was shopping for. She eyed the sparkling diamond solitaire on her ring finger. A wave of giddiness surged through her. To think that she was now engaged was almost too good to be true. She and Ronald Graystone had been together for two years, ever since their junior year at Duke, and last night he had proposed. The timing was simply perfect: graduation was coming up and Ron's parents would be there for the festivities. After the ceremony they were all supposed to go to this super expensive restaurant to celebrate the happy news, which was why Allyson needed a dress. Mr. and Mrs. Graystone were very formal, so Ally knew she had to get it right.

Not that Ally was a stranger to grand affairs. With her father being who he is, she'd grown up with her share of opulence. Their house in Westchester was a ten-bedroom mansion with a ballroom that had a twenty-foot ceiling. As a child, Ally had taken this splendor for granted, but when she went away to boarding school at fourteen, she became aware of the fact that not everyone's reality was like hers. Granted, the girls at Miss Porter's didn't exactly come from poor homes, but the name Victor Roberts elicited genuine awe from the majority of her classmates. It was then that Ally first became fully aware of her social standing.

Victor Roberts came from humble lower-middle-class beginnings, born to an electrician father and a kindergarten teacher mother. With a degree from MIT, which he had obtained on a full scholarship, he built his industrial empire from the proverbial scratch. The story of his success inspired a mixture of admiration and jealousy from myriads of people. At least once a month there would be an article about him somewhere, the subject ranging from the latest venture he was embarking on to speculations about his personal life. Not that Ally knew much about either. Her father spent the majority of his time at work, and even when he was home he was usually locked up in his study, which served as his command center. When she was younger, Ally's care was relegated to her governess; when she grew older, to the boarding school mistress, and later to college professors. Her mother had passed away from a heart condition when Ally was only five, and Ally had never been aware of another woman by her father's side. As she grew older and began to understand these matters, she questioned her father about it, to which he replied that he had never met a woman who could replace Ally's mother. Still, Ally was not naïve and realized that her father was not a monk, but whatever women had briefly entered Victor Roberts' life had remained secluded from the press and Ally's eyes.

"Oh, I just love that one!" Madison exclaimed, snatching the hanger from Allyson's hands. Madison ran her dark purple-colored fingernails over the dress's fabric. "Love the spaghetti straps and the delicate ruffles—sexy and sweet! Ronnie will love it."

Allyson shot Madison a dubious glace. "Don't you think it's a bit much? I was thinking of something more formal. Oh, and by the way, I hope you're going to get another manicure before graduation."

"You know I am; I have one every week. My usual is OPI Go Goth. They've got my name on the nail polish bottle at the salon."

Allyson shook her head. "I'm sure they do. But I was hoping you'd change your color to something more—"

"Boring?"

"No, feminine. Like lavender or pink."

Madison grimaced. "Those are the colors my mother wears. I'm not going near them."

Allyson resisted the urge to contradict. Sometimes she wondered just how genuine Madison's eccentricity was. Ally's secret guess was that most of it came from Madison's desire to irk her parents, and Ally had to give Maddie her due: she had certainly more than accomplished this goal. But then Allyson wouldn't want to be in Maddie's shoes, or Ron's for that matter. At first glance, siblings Madison and Ronald Graystone led a charmed life. Twin offspring of Viola and Richard Graystone, they stood to inherit a fortune, but with that came responsibilities and obligations that were almost as great if not greater. Viola Graystone was one of the most venerable society ladies in existence: there wasn't a charity ball that she hadn't contributed to in some shape or form, or a charity committee she wasn't a part of. Madison was expected to follow her mother's example. Yes, a college degree was beneficial, but Mrs. Graystone saw its purpose as more for achieving well-roundedness and putting it to good use when contributing to social causes, and it went without saying that Duke University was the perfect place for meeting a suitable match.

The fact that Maddie chose to major in graphic design did not bode well with her parents, but the other shoe was yet to drop: unbeknownst to her parents, Maddie had secured a job offer from a leading advertising agency in New York. She planned to make the announcement on graduation day. Allyson cringed at the thought: coupled with the news of her engagement to Ron, it just might be too much for the Graystones. Maddie had urged Ally to join her on her adventure in New York, but Ally declined. New York wasn't all that exotic to her. It was less than an hour train ride from her father's house in Westchester, and she'd made plenty of forays into the city with her friends during school breaks. While her girlfriends went gaga over the hip lounges and night clubs, Ally remained unimpressed. The big city pace didn't appeal to her; it seemed overly noisy and confusing. Her dislike of big city life made her decision to move to Boston that much easier.

With a coveted double major in engineering and physics, she had her pick from a slew of job offers. Her father always made it clear that he would never impose his legacy on her. "You can do whatever it is you put your mind to, Ally," he used to say. "If you want to continue with the business, I'll be more than happy to show you the ropes, but if your heart lies elsewhere, I don't want you to feel tied down." He needn't have worried. From an early age, Ally was acing math and science classes at school. She was on a math team and participated in every science fair imaginable, with her projects nearly always snagging first place. She spent her winter and summer vacations on the campus of Roberts Enterprises, cooped up in the offices of esteemed scientists whose reservations at having to babysit the boss's daughter dissolved the instant Ally showed her acumen, quickly getting the hang of the complicated sequences on their computer screens. As much as she had loved spending time at her father's company when she was younger, Ally wanted to make a name for herself as an adult. When she received an offer from Lorman & Matherson, a leading defense contractor headquartered in Boston, Ally's heart was set. "You have no idea what you'll be missing!" Maddie had wailed with her usual drama, but Ally knew the answer: absolutely nothing. She was the happiest woman alive: not only would she be working in Boston close to Ron, but she'd have a great job to boot. Lorman & Matherson had made her a verbal offer a few days ago, and she was yet to receive a paper copy of the contract, but that was merely a formality and Ally had already found an apartment. It just so happened that one of Ron's friends had an uncle in real estate and the perfect one-bedroom had just come on the market in the area of town that was very close to Ally's new employer.

Allyson eyed a black chiffon sheath from an adjacent stand. "Yes, I think this is the one," Allyson confirmed, lifting up the hanger. "It's classy, but sexy in an understated kind of way. It's perfect for meeting your parents."

Madison rolled her eyes. "It's perfect for a funeral. Besides, you've already met my parents."

"Yes, but not as their future daughter-in-law."

"I'm so glad we're going to be sisters, Ally!" Madison squealed. Madison was extremely close with her brother. In the beginning Ally had been worried about potential rivalry between her and Madison, but Madison had liked Ally right off the bat. They were already like sisters.

"Me too, Maddie. But back to the topic of the dress. Since your parents are going to be there, I think I should go for a more conservative look."

"Are you scared of my parents?"

Ally shook her head. "Nope." The truth of the matter was that she was scared to death. The fact that she had already met Ron's parents didn't make the occasion any less terrifying; instead it made it more so since she knew what to expect. Ally still remembered how Mrs. Graystone had given her a onceover the first time Allyson had been invited to the Graystone's townhouse in Beacon Hill, Boston. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Allyson," Mrs. Graystone had said, holding Ally's hand in a cool, dry grip. "It's Allyson Roberts, isn't it?" Mr. Graystone had clarified. "Yes," Allyson nodded, blushing for no reason. It wasn't as though she was embarrassed by her father and everything he stood for; on the contrary, she was proud of it, but she wanted to be judged on her own merit, not that of her father's. "Welcome, dear," Mrs. Graystone smiled magnanimously. "Please, come on in."

"Ally! Wake up!" Madison snapped her fingers. "Are you going to try on this dress or what?"

"I'm awake," Ally countered. She hung the blue dress back on the rack; she could just imagine the expression on Mrs. Graystone's face if she were to wear it. Ally firmly gripped the black chiffon she'd settled on. If she was going to succeed at being Mrs. Ronald Graystone, she had to start holding her ground. "I'm going to try on this dress. I'm sure Ron would agree with my choice."

Maddie rolled her eyes. "Of course Ron would agree. Ron always agrees, but someone has to be the voice of style."

Allyson raised an eyebrow—the voice of chaos was more like it. Still, she knew exactly what Maddie meant. Unlike his sister, Ron was an exemplary son. His fate had been sealed since he had been a pea in his mother's womb. The only male heir, he was to follow in his father's footsteps and carry the venerable legacy of Graystone & Runell, the multimillion-dollar law firm in Boston, Massachusetts his great-grandfather had begun. Unlike Madison, Ron wore his legacy with reverence and quiet pride. He had aced his LSATs and looked forward to three years at Harvard Law. Despite their differences the two twins were extremely close, but Madison never tired of daring Ron to break free from the yoke of the Graystone name. In fact, Madison was the reason why Ron and Ally got together in the first place. Madison made friends easily, and she and Ally had become very close after rooming together during their first year of college. At the time, Ron was dating a different girl; Annette Beale went to Wellesley, and the two of them only saw each other on random weekends and breaks. Every now and then Ally would catch a glimpse of Ron, but it never went any further between them than a few friendly words. Ally had liked Ron instantly. His handsome face and lean, muscular body had made her breath catch, but what sealed the deal was his seriousness, a studiousness that she never saw in the boys her own age, at least not the ones who were as good-looking as Ron. Still, Ron's heart belonged to someone else, and Ally had abandoned hope until an unexpected opportunity presented itself. Madison was practically spurting with excitement when she told Ally that Ron and Annette had broken up. Apparently, Annette had found her long-distance relationship with Ron trying and had been indiscreet with one of the boys from Boston College. Ron never would have been the wiser had it not been for one of Annette's friends who had speedily relayed the news to him, probably in hopes of redirecting Ron's affections to herself, or just out of plain spite. In any case, Ron was very hurt, but he remained stoic throughout the whole ordeal, growing even more serious and studious. To cheer Ron up, Maddie had arranged for the three of them to go to the movies, but then bailed at the last minute, claiming a headache. Left standing together in the front of the movie theatre, Ally and Ron had no choice but to go inside, and the rest was history.

Allyson never revealed it to Maddie, but part of the reason why she fell in love with Ron was the aura of dependability about him. Of course it also helped that he was six feet two and broad-shouldered, had a smile that could melt your heart in a second, and a twinkle in his baby-blue eyes that could send goose bumps down your skin, but these were not the main reasons. There were plenty of handsome guys at Duke, but none of them were like Ron, and Allyson only hoped that she could do him justice as his wife. She knew that it wouldn't be easy: it wasn't just Ron she was marrying but the Graystone legacy. And even though she herself was far from a penniless bride, she understood the differences between their families. Victor Roberts might have more in his bank accounts than the Graystones, but his name didn't carry the pedigree of the Graystones, who could trace their lineage all the way back to the Mayflower. In the world of the Graystones, Ally was an outsider, but because she loved Ron she was willing to work hard to be accepted. Allyson worried that their engagement might interfere with Ron's studies, but he had assured her otherwise, adding that the only way he could make it through law school was with the knowledge that, upon his graduation, Ally was going to be his wife. It went without saying that their wedding would have to wait until Ron finished law school. Ally didn't have any qualms about that. As much as she loved Ron, she was secretly glad that she still had three years of freedom. It was like having the best of both worlds.

"Fine, have it your way," Maddie pouted. "I'll be right outside, praying that you come back to your senses and change your mind."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Ally threw over her shoulder as she shut the fitting room door behind her. She wriggled out of her jeans and threw off her top. Taking extra care, she undid the dress zipper and stepped into the gown. She pulled her arms through the sleeves and was about to zip up the back when she heard Madison's urgent scream.

"Ally, you'd better come out here!"

Allyson shook her head. At times Madison could be too persistent. "Maddie, I already told you that I'm going with the black dress." Allyson surveyed herself in the mirror in confirmation of her choice. The dress looked perfect on her: the black color accentuated the smooth alabaster of her skin and the dark color of her hair, and made her blue eyes dazzle like sapphires.

She thought of a sapphire pendant her father had given her for her twenty-first birthday; it would go perfectly with the moderately low neckline of the dress. She was about to open the fitting room door and put Madison's impatience to rest when she heard banging on the door.

"Ally, you have to see this!" Madison burst into the fitting room just as Ally was about to come out.

"Admit it, this is a better choice—" Allyson stopped short after seeing the expression on Madison's face. "Madison, what's wrong? What is it?"

Madison handed Ally her smartphone. It had a news article opened on the screen. "I think you'd better sit down."

As Allyson read the headline her eyes flew wide open, nearly popping out of her head. "Victor Roberts, President and COO of Roberts Enterprises, has been arrested on charges of fraud, negligence, and threat to national security," the headline read.

"It's got to be a mistake. It can't be real. Where's my phone?" Ally rummaged through her purse. "Damn, I must've left it at home." She was heaving now, her heart racing like a hammer, and she felt the world spinning around her. This couldn't be happening. She needed to call her father's lawyer and find out exactly what was going on. Maybe her father was trying to reach her this very minute and she wasn't there to answer his call. When was the last time she had spoken to her father? Easter, and now it was the end of May. She was ashamed to admit that such breaks in their communication weren't out of the ordinary. Her father was a very busy man, and she didn't want to appear needy or interfere with his affairs. But now something terrible had happened to him, and she had read about it on the Internet like a complete stranger. She wanted to be with him, to know exactly what was going on. She needed her father more now than she ever had. "I have to go! I have to get to my phone." Allyson thrust her feet into her shoes and lunged for the door.

"I'm right behind you," Madison followed.

"Miss, excuse me!" A saleswoman stood in Ally's way.

Ally stopped dead in her tracks, realizing that she was still wearing the dress she'd been trying on. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror; her hair was disheveled and her face was flushed red. She could already see the headlines: "On the heels of the news of her father's arrest, Allyson Roberts is caught shoplifting."

"Leave her alone!" Madison snarled. "I'll pay for the damn dress. She has an emergency." Maddie threw her credit card at the sales person. She thrust her sunglasses at Ally. "Take these. You're gonna need them."

"Why would I need those—" Ally stopped short, understanding instantly. She hated wearing sunglasses, but she'd be crazy to venture outside now without a pair on. Growing up, Allyson had remained out of the spotlight—her father had made sure of that. The one time a photographer had managed to get a picture of her—when she was about five years old—her father had the man brought up on harassment charges, followed by a gag order. But now her father was powerless to protect her and she was prime bait. Every paparazzo on the street would be dying to take her picture. It was only a matter of time until they would seek her out.

"Come on!" Madison grabbed Ally's hand, ushering her outside. Luckily, Madison had parked her car close to the store and within moments they were on the road, driving.

Ten minutes later Madison pulled up in front of Ally's house. She helped Ally up the front stairs and opened the door for her, as though Ally were an invalid. By now the shock of the news had taken its toll, and although there was nothing physically the matter with her, Ally found it hard to function, as though she were wrapped in a cocoon of numbness, making even the simplest of movements extremely difficult.

Madison sat Ally on the couch. "Allyson, listen to me. I know you're in shock, but you have to pull yourself together. There are a hundred calls you need to make, and you need to be one hundred percent, do you hear me?"

Ally nodded, although she didn't understand why she needed to make a hundred calls. As far as she was concerned she only needed to make one phone call: to her father.

Maddie squeezed Ally's hand hard. "Ally, listen to me. I know you're scared, but you'll be alright. It's probably nothing. Your father will get out of this mess. Trust me, these things happen."

Allyson's eyes flew wide open, but she remained mute. What on earth was Maddie saying? These things didn't happen, not to her, not to her father.

"My father isn't a lawyer for nothing. You should hear about some of the messes his clients had gotten into. All old money, so venerable and discreet. You've got nothing to be ashamed of. You've just joined a very elite club." Madison tried to bring Ally back to reality, but there was a glazed-over look of shock in Ally's eyes. "Allyson!" Maddie's hand slapped Ally's face. Allyson clutched her cheek, staring at her friend. "I'm sorry, but you have to get yourself together."

The sharp stinging of her skin brought clarity. With her now clear eyes, Ally saw the red blinking light on her answering machine. On the reading table next to the couch was her cell phone and it, too, was beeping angrily, bursting with tidings of bad news. No matter how bad, it was the news she needed to hear. Her father didn't bring her up to be a babbling child; she was a grown woman now and she had to step up to the plate. "I'm all right now. Thank you."

"You're not mad at me? I don't know why I hit you. I guess I panicked." All of Madison's toughness was evaporating as she babbled guiltily.

"I deserved it. Now if you don't mind I'm going to need some privacy to sort through all of this . . . it's not that I don't trust you, but I don't want you to be in the position of overhearing things that could be compromising," Ally said firmly. She was fully in control now.

"I understand. I'll be home if you need me. I'll let myself out." Madison rose from the couch and headed for the door.

Allyson reached for her cell phone and hit the messages button. There were five messages, all from her father's lawyer.

# Chapter 2

Otto Bauer, or Uncle Otto as Ally called him, was Victor Roberts' attorney and his right hand. As time went on and the size of Roberts Enterprises grew, so did Otto's practice, turning into a sizeable law firm with legal staff dedicated entirely to managing the affairs of Roberts Enterprises. Otto's duties extended far beyond the daily legal matters associated with the running of Victor Roberts' business affairs. Otto was also Ally's trustee, but he went above and beyond managing Ally's trust. He was the one who made sure her tuition bills were paid on time and that her allowance was delivered to her checking account on a monthly basis. Her father was too busy to handle any of these matters, and Otto had stepped in without saying as much as a word. For as long as Ally could remember, Uncle Otto had been there for her. He had even visited college campuses with her when she was applying to schools. Whenever she had a problem, she would turn to Uncle Otto, not wanting to trouble her father. Over the years, there hadn't been a problem that Uncle Otto couldn't solve, but never in her wildest nightmares could Ally imagine that she would be calling Uncle Otto with something as terrible as what was happening to her this very moment.

With shaky fingers Ally dialed Uncle Otto's phone number. He picked up on the first ring.

"Ally? I've been trying to reach you." Even in these grave circumstances the lawyer's voice was calm. "Are you all right?"

Ally felt a wave of guilt rush over her. While she had been out shopping for an engagement dress, Uncle Otto had been worrying about her instead of focusing his attention on her father's affairs. "I'm sorry, I forgot my phone," Ally stammered.

"Ally, I need you to listen to me very carefully," Otto continued in an even voice. "Your father is in a very serious predicament—"

"But you're going to get him out of it, aren't you?" Ally blurted out, instantly feeling like a six-year-old kid. There were so many instances in her life when she had gone to Uncle Otto for advice, and he had always been able to help, but this time was different.

"I will do my best, Ally. I promise to take care of your father, and I want you to promise me that you will take care of yourself. That's what your father wants most. Now, about the state of your trust and allowance . . . "

Ally couldn't believe what Uncle Otto was saying. Her trust? She couldn't care less about her trust. All she cared about right now was that her father was going to get out of this crazy mess.

"Ally? Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, I'm listening."

"Unfortunately your trust consists entirely of company shares. Your father and I both thought it would be the best way; sadly we've both been proven wrong. But then neither of us could have ever predicted anything like this. The price of the company shares declined this morning, but I'm confident that it's going to rebound once we prove that the charges against your father are groundless. We just need to be patient, that's all, no panicked selling. Your allowance will be smaller this month since the payout is tied to the stock performance, but I'll make sure that the difference won't impact you."

"Don't worry about it, Uncle Otto. I'll be fine." Ally's allowance was not exorbitant by far—just enough to cover the cost of her books and lodging—but even so she rarely managed to spend the entire amount, so she had some padding in her bank account that would tide her over. In less than a month she'd start her job and she'd be earning her own living. The last thing she wanted was to be a financial burden on her father, especially now that he was in trouble. Still, Uncle Otto's words worried her. She should have had the presence of mind to check the price of the company shares. "How big was the drop in the company shares, Uncle Otto?" Ally bated her breath: the greater the drop in the price, the greater the drop in confidence the public had in Roberts Enterprises.

There was a cough on the other side of the receiver. "There's been a thirty percent drop so far."

"Thirty percent?" Ally repeated in a hollow voice. Thirty percent drop in her father's reputation and everything he stood for was a crushing reality to accept.

"I'm sorry, Ally. The allegations against Roberts Enterprises are very severe. Roberts Enterprises is being accused of fraud and negligence due to the massive malfunctions that Pollux plants had experienced after maintenance that was performed by Roberts Enterprises. There are also charges of possible intentional misconduct and being a threat to national security—"

"But it can't be true!" Ally exclaimed. "There has to be some mistake! The quality of Roberts Enterprises control systems is superior to those of the entire industry. Roberts Enterprises even owns a patent on it. How could this have happened?" How Ally wished she had been more involved in the day-to-day operations of Roberts Enterprises. She had been so intent on making a name for herself that during her college summers she had opted to intern at other companies instead of her father's. Her plan had been to rise to the top on her own and make her father proud. Instead she had blinded herself.

"That's what we're trying to find out, Ally. If only the scale hadn't been so large and the impact of damage so extensive. That damned contract with Pollux has turned out to be a curse instead of the blessing we thought it to be."

Ally was more than familiar with the name. Pollux, Inc. was one of the major suppliers of electricity to the national grid and owned nuclear reactor plants located nationwide. A little less than a year ago, Pollux had awarded Roberts Enterprises a maintenance contract for the reactors. The deal had been announced with much fanfare in the same magazines that were now trashing Roberts Enterprises. The contract was supposed to elevate Roberts Enterprises to a whole new level, leading to government-level contracts, but that wasn't the primary reason why Victor Roberts had taken on the contract. Innovation was the true motivation behind everything her father did. He truly wanted to bring something new into the world and make it better. At times Ally wondered if the world understood just how much Victor Roberts had sacrificed to build his company: the long hours spent in a research lab, the tireless search for perfection, the never-ending drive for innovation. Ally remembered only too well the countless hours her father had spent on the work required to fulfill the Pollux contract, cancelling pre-planned family functions and outings with Ally. "You understand, Ally, don't you? This is real important stuff, kiddo. The kind of stuff that will make you proud of your daddy. We'll catch up tomorrow, okay?" her father would speak to her as though she were still a five-year-old kid, which of course he knew she wasn't. It was a little game they played. Ally would always say yes, thinking that she was already very proud of her father, and all she really wanted was just to have dinner with him or go bowling, or whatever it was that regular families did. But then theirs wasn't a regular family, and there was always tomorrow. Ally forced her attention back to the present.

"Your father is going to put up a good fight. I'll make sure of that," Uncle Otto assured her.

"Can I come and see him?" Ally asked, holding her breath.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the receiver. "Ally, I know you mean well, but your father and I think it's best for you to stay out of the spotlight. I'm working on arranging bail for him and he should be released soon. Then you can come home and see him. Your father asked me explicitly to tell you that these are his wishes."

Ally knew better than to argue. When her father wanted things a certain way, he wanted things done that way. "All right, Uncle Otto, but you'll let me know once Dad is released?"

"I'll call you as soon as I have the good news, Ally. And Ally, it goes without saying that you shouldn't speak to the press under any circumstances."

"Of course, Uncle Otto." Ally couldn't think of anything more humiliating than speaking with the press. Still, putting her own feelings aside, she could see a potential benefit in the action: perhaps if she were to tell the truth about her father, the press would paint him in a kinder, more advantageous light. Yet she also knew that it would be futile to deviate from her father's chosen course of action, and she certainly didn't want to cause him additional distress by acting against his wishes. "Thank you for everything. I'll talk to you soon, Uncle Otto."

"Keep your chin up, Ally. Before you know it, this whole thing will blow over."

Ally hung up the phone, wanting desperately to believe Uncle Otto's words. For several moments she just sat there, staring at the wall and feeling utterly useless. She wished she could be out there, fighting for her father's good name, but Uncle Otto had specifically told her not to, and the last thing she wanted was to hurt her father more by her inept actions. Uncle Otto had told her that what her father wanted most now was for her to stay calm and take care of herself. While it sounded nearly impossible, that was exactly what she was intent on doing.

There were so many things that she had to take care of. She had to call Ron and discuss plans for his parents' visit, the mere thought of which now sent tremors down her spine. What would the Graystones say about her father's misfortunes? Would they stand by her side, or would they shun her and order Ron to do the same? But Ron wasn't like that; Ally was sure of that. She was confident that regardless of what his parents might say, Ron would stand by her side. And then there was a matter of packing: she would be moving to Boston in a few weeks and she had to vacate her college apartment. She also had to hire a moving truck to transport her belongings to Boston and confirm her move-in date with the management of her new apartment building. She had planned to do all this housekeeping this week, blissfully unaware of the impending doom that was about to strike. And now these basic tasks seemed insurmountable, as Ally felt drawn of all energy. At the moment all she wanted was to lie down and go to sleep.

# Chapter 3

Ally woke up from the sound of the key being turned in the front door lock. Instantly, the memory of recent events came back to her. Her father's name was splattered all over the paper, and she was a target of the press. Could it be that paparazzi were breaking into her house this very moment? The thought sent shivers down her spine. She didn't have a roommate and she wasn't expecting any visitors. Quickly, she tried to come up with a plan of action. She saw Ron's baseball bat lying in the corner and decided to make her move. In a failed attempt to gracefully slide off the sofa, she fell on the floor with a dull thump and scrambled for the bat. Moments later she had it in her hands and crept to the front door. Just then the door began to open.

"Don't you make another move!" Ally screamed, holding up the bat and clutching it tightly.

"Ally, baby, it's me! What are you doing, honey? Don't you hit me over the head with that thing!"

Seconds later she was enveloped in Ron's warm embrace, her hands falling limply by her sides and the bat dropping to the floor. "Ron, what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? I'm making sure my girl is all right, that's what I'm doing here. Madison told me what happened, so I hurried on over as soon as I could. If it hadn't been for that stupid baseball practice, I would have been here sooner. The one time I don't check the news and something like this happens."

Ally's heart was still racing like crazy. She was very glad to see Ron, but she couldn't understand why on earth he decided to use the spare key. "Why didn't you knock, Ronnie? You scared the bejesus out of me!"

"I did, Ally, I practically broke down the door, but there was no answer. So I figured that you must've fallen asleep so I used the spare key. I didn't mean to scare you, baby. God knows you've got enough on your mind as it is."

"I'm so glad you're here, Ron." Ally clung to Ron's broad muscled chest, instantly feeling calmer. How could she have been so stupid as to doubt him? He was her knight in shining armor, rushing to her rescue at the time of distress. No matter what lay before her, she knew she'd make it through with Ron by her side.

"Ally, look at me." Ron held up her face. "Let's have a seat on the couch over there. We've got so much to talk about."

Ally nodded, following Ron to the couch. "I shouldn't have been napping. I have so much to do. I just lied down for a little bit and zonked out," she explained guiltily. She grabbed her cell phone from the reading table and checked her messages, hoping that there might have been some good news while she'd been asleep, but no such luck. "I've got to call the movers and start packing."

"Ally, calm down, take a seat." Ron reached for her hand, pulling her down to the couch next to him. "There's so much we need to discuss."

"Yes, you're right. Your parents will be coming down next week."

"My parents are coming tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning?" Ally's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She wasn't sure she was up to facing Mrs. Graystone's icy demeanor that soon.

"Yes, Mom and Dad wanted to be here in light of the recent events . . ."

At the sound of Ron's faltering voice, Ally felt an ominous hollowness in her chest. What was it they called that type of sensation? A foreboding? But then she didn't believe in such things, and even if she did, there was nothing for her to worry about. Ron was right there by her side, and Mrs. Graystone would just have to take the proverbial stick out of her behind and deal with it.

"They want to be here to support you, Ally," Ron continued. "We have to be careful about how the news about your father is going to impact our families."

Ally didn't care for Ron's choice of words. "You know my dad is innocent, right?"

"I believe it, Ally, because I've had the honor of knowing your dad personally. But most of the world didn't and most of the world is going to believe what they read in the papers. And the papers aren't being too kind to your father or Roberts Enterprises just now. So we have to put our heads together."

"You needn't worry. My dad's lawyer is taking care of everything." Ally knew that Ron had a point, but she couldn't help feeling defensive. She wanted him to take her side unconditionally, but then blind acquiescence never did anyone any good, did it? She'd better get herself together. Ron was only trying to help.

"Let's talk about it when Mom and Dad get here tomorrow. Their plane is arriving tomorrow morning. I think that my dad could offer useful insight. He does own one of the leading law firms in the country."

"All right," Ally relented.

"That a girl," Ron murmured. "That's my Ally," he added, his soft lips kissing her gently.

"Not now, Ron." Ally's first impulse was to push him away; the idea of making love, even if she were making love to her fiancé, under the present circumstances seemed downright wrong. She should be thinking of ways to help her father instead of canoodling with Ron.

"Ally, baby, I missed you so much." Ron's hands were making their way down her body, lingering on the sensual spots he knew so well, setting off sparks of desire.

Despite her good intentions, she was suddenly feeling incredibly horny. The last thoughts of resistance vanished as her body overtook her mind. She clung to Ron for dear life, hungry for far more than sexual satisfaction. His nearness was the only stable point in her life as she now knew it. With everything else falling apart, Ron was the only constant in her life. He was her only anchor and she held onto him with all her might for fear of being engulfed by the unknown circumstances she now found herself in.

"Oh, Ally, baby, you were on fire!" Ron panted as he rolled off Ally, sprawling out next to her on the couch. They had never made it to the bedroom. "I love it when you're horny like that."

"I guess it's all the stress." Ally blushed in spite of herself. She knew it was silly, but she always felt uncomfortable talking about sex. Once the heat of the moment was gone, it made her feel vulnerable and exposed to recount the actions taken during those moments of utter passion and abandon. It was as though she was a different person in those moments, her body taking over her entire being, heedless of modesty and conventions. She had been a late bloomer. Ron was her first man and he taught her everything she knew about sex. In her teen years there were the porn tapes smuggled by her girlfriends, but even then she wouldn't stay in the room for more than a few minutes and would leave just as the juicy bits appeared on the screen. And once her girlfriends started implementing what they learned from the tapes with their real-life boyfriends, Ally felt like a complete outsider. She wasn't a prude; she simply felt that making love was too personal a subject to talk about. And even when she finally discovered it for herself with Ron, she still didn't feel that it was something to be discussed, but rather learned in ways that didn't require words.

"It will be all right, Ally. I promise. We'll get through this together."

Ally shivered, suddenly cold and aware of her naked body. She slid closer to Ron, cradling herself in the nook of his body. If only the two of them could stay like this forever, with the rest of the world shut out forever. But there were so many obligations both of them had to face, so many demands to answer to. "Ron, you don't think that what happened with my dad will change things between us, do you?"

Ron raised himself up on his elbow. "Ally, listen to me. Nothing will ever change things between us, you hear me? I love you and I will stand behind you no matter what. You do believe me, don't you?"

"I love you too, Ron."

"Say that you believe me, Ally."

"I believe you, Ron." And she did; she just hoped that Ron would never be forced to renege on his promise to her.

***

When Ally woke up the next morning Ron wasn't in bed next to her. She remembered him saying that his parents would be flying in today, so she guessed that he had gone to the airport to meet them. Secretly she was glad that he had gone without her. She wasn't exactly comfortable around her future in-laws under normal circumstances, and she was pretty sure that her father's name being splattered all over the papers wasn't going to make things any easier, which brought her thoughts to what really mattered: her father was in trouble and she was lounging around in bed thinking about Ron and his parents. What kind of daughter was she?

Ally sprung out of bed and lunged for her phone, hoping to find news from Uncle Otto. There were tons of emails and text messages from her friends offering condolences and support, but there was no message from Uncle Otto. She checked the clock and frowned; it was almost noon. How could she have slept that late? It had to be all the stress from yesterday, or maybe it was the passionate lovemaking she and Ron had indulged in last night. The latter thought made her face grow hot with guilt: how could she be thinking about sex at a time like this? But then her brain was hardly functioning and her thoughts were all scrambled.

Ally dialed Uncle Otto's number, hoping to get some clarity. Any news was better than being kept in the dark. Her hopes were dashed as the call went straight to voicemail. Uncle Otto is probably in court, Ally thought. He'll call me as soon as he has news, and I need to be ready in case there'll be things for me to do to help in any way. Ally dashed for the shower and took her phone with her in case there might be a call. Her precaution turned out to be unnecessary as the phone remained silent. She got out of the shower and towel-dried her hair. She dressed in a pair of jeans and a knit top and thought about what she should do next. A part of her wanted to head for the airport and board the next flight to New York to be with her father; even standing outside of the jail building (jail! the thought of her father being in jail was surreal) would be better than being so far away and useless. Yet she had promised Uncle Otto to do no such thing, and she knew that was what her father wanted and needed her to do—follow his instructions—and she was going to do just that. All her life Ally had been a good girl, trying so hard to make her father proud. She knew that he loved her very much, but the demands of his work made him a very busy man, unable to spend as much time with her as he would have liked. There was always tomorrow, always the next time. But now the future, which had always seemed so bright and promising, was hanging in the balance.

After forcing herself to eat a breakfast of half a bagel and coffee, Ally decided to try Otto's phone again. No sooner had she reached for the phone than it began to ring; Otto Bauer's name was on the caller ID.

"Uncle Otto?" Ally's voice came out trembling despite her attempts to sound calm.

"Ally," Uncle Otto's voice was unusually grave. "I'm sorry to tell you that your father was denied bail."

"Denied bail? But how could this have happened? My father is not a criminal. He's not going to run away! He's a responsible citizen with an upstanding record."

"Ally, we have tried all of these arguments, but the judge wouldn't listen." There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Ally, there's something else that you should know. There were additional charges brought against Roberts Enterprises today. Because of the massive failures, Pollux had to shut down five of its plants. Roberts Enterprises is now being sued for all the revenue losses Pollux incurred due to the production shutdown. Because of the interruption there was a hike in the electricity prices and the numbers are very high."

"How high?" Ally murmured.

"In billions of dollars." There was a brief pause on the other side of the receiver.

"Is it enough to ruin the company?" Ally's lips trembled as the chilling words rolled from her lips.

"I truly believe that Roberts Enterprises wasn't the culprit in all of this, but I felt that it was my duty to tell you, Ally. I think it's best that you be informed."

"Thank you for being honest with me, Uncle Otto."

"Your father is facing some very tough charges, one of which is being a threat to national security."

"Yes, I saw that in the papers. If bringing efficiency and innovation to the market is a threat to national security then I guess my father does pose a very big threat," Ally said bitterly.

"You have to remember that Pollux is one of the national electricity suppliers. Causing them to shut down their production is seen as a national threat. Plus, with Pollux shutting down half their plants, there was a hike in electricity prices, and now every one of their customers is jumping on the bandwagon, blaming your father. Several state governors got involved as well."

Suddenly a scary thought crossed Ally's mind. What if Uncle Otto wasn't qualified to handle her father's legal affairs now that the stakes had been raised so high?

"We've got defense lawyers from Warrell & Kroden arguing your father's case, and it still didn't sway the judge's mind to grant your father bail."

"I didn't know you hired them." Warrell & Kroden was in the top tier of criminal defense and litigation law firms, so there was no question of incompetence in Ally's mind.

"You'll probably see it in the news soon enough. We wanted to keep it under wraps for now—the less information the press has, the better."

"Are you sure that it's not a good idea for me to come to New York? Perhaps I could testify on my father's behalf? I'm no expert in these matters, but I've seen lawyers employ these tactics on TV. Sorry if I sound like an amateur. Just trying to help."

"I appreciate it, Ally, but your father and I both think that right now it's best for you to stay out of the spotlight." There was brief pause on the other end of the line. "Ally, with regards to your trust, the company shares continue to decline, and I now think that it may be prudent to sell some of the positions, just to be on the safe side."

"Please don't worry about that, Uncle Otto. I'll be fine. I'll be starting my new job soon, and I won't need an allowance then. Just like you said before, the company stock is only dropping because of the bad news; once my father's name is cleared the price of the shares will go back up. Besides, I wouldn't want my father to send a wrong message by starting a sell-off in his daughter's trust."

"You've got a point there, Ally. I was going to reach out to a broker on a confidential basis, but these days you really can't trust anyone."

"That's right, Uncle Otto. We will weather this storm and be the stronger for it," Ally said bravely, remembering a quote from some movie or play. At least her voice was no longer quivering, and in her book that was making progress.

"I sure hope so, Ally. I will call you as soon as I have any news."

"I'll speak to you soon, Uncle Otto."

Ally hung up the phone and sat on the couch, hugging her knees. The news about her father being denied bail hit her hard. She felt as though she was stuck in a horrible nightmare. How could her father have gone from one of the most lauded entrepreneurs in the country to a suspected criminal in the blink of an eye? She was shell-shocked, disoriented, and devastated, but she also knew that she couldn't afford any of these emotions to take over her mind. Her conversation with Uncle Otto had made it clear to her that at the moment there was only one thing she could do to help her father: come to grips with her new reality.

She always found that the best way to remain calm in a tough situation was to make a list of things to do and keep busy. Take it one step at a time, no matter how insignificant and small. Keeping her back very straight, Ally got up from the couch and grabbed a notepad and a pen. There were plenty of things to keep her occupied. She would be moving to Boston in a few weeks' time and starting a new job.

Ally spent the next half hour making a list of things for her move and a shopping list of the items she would need for her new apartment. She called her future landlord and confirmed that her move-in date was on schedule. And there was a shopping list for her new job: she would need to extend her corporate attire wardrobe beyond the sole interview suit that she currently owned. Now was not the most opportune time in her life to be spending money, so Ally carefully assigned a shopping limit for each segment of her list. By the time her list was done, she was looking at a hefty sum. Suddenly she wasn't feeling so smug about her saved-up allowance; it would just about cover her expenses for the move, and then there would still be a few weeks to go before her first paycheck. Uncle Otto did say that her allowance would be smaller this month, but she was sure that it would be enough to hold her over. At any rate, she wasn't going to trouble him about money. Right now she wanted all of Uncle Otto's attention to be focused on her father's affairs. Of course if worse came to worse, she could always ask Ron to lend her some money, but she refused to even think about the idea. She was going to do this on her own. Besides, she was sure that it wouldn't be long before her father's name would be cleared and things would go back to normal again. Not that she intended to live off her father's allowance; she was going to make her own way in the world, and she was going to make her father proud.

Just then there was a telephone ring. Ally lunged for her cell phone, hoping it was Uncle Otto again. Instead she was greeted by Ron's voice.

"Hi, baby, so sorry I had to sneak out on you. My parents were flying in this morning, so I had to pick them up at the airport."

"I figured as much," Ally replied. She was still mad at Ron for not waking her up.

"Sorry, I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful with your head plopped on the pillow and your hair tossed all around your shoulders. Actually"—Ron's voice grew husky—"sexy is probably a better adjective."

"Ron!" Ally couldn't believe that Ron was talking about sex at a time like this, and he hadn't even asked about her father.

"I'm sorry, Ally. I know you have so much to deal with right now." There was an awkward pause on the other side of the receiver.

"Dad was denied bail." It took all of her self-control to keep her voice even.

"I'm so sorry, Ally. I know that everything will work out. You just need to stay strong, okay?"

"Okay." She wished Ron was with her right now. She really wasn't as strong as she was pretending to be. "What time are you coming over?"

"About that . . . my parents asked me to take care of a few things for them, so I won't be able to come over tonight, but I'l1 be there tomorrow. And we're all having dinner tomorrow—eight o'clock, sharp."

"Okay," Ally made it a point to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Ally, you know I'm there for you, don't you?"

You're not here though, she wanted to say, but resisted. "I know, Ron. If I need anything I'll call you. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Ally."

# Chapter 4

At eight o'clock sharp Ally entered the lobby of the Washington Duke Inn and Golf Club, which was where the Graystones were staying. Ron hadn't been able to pick her up since he'd had to run some errands for his parents. He must've had lots of errands to run since Ally hadn't seen him all day, but she didn't let it bother her. She knew how much Mrs. Graystone doted on her son, who was the apple of his mother's eye. In the end it wasn't a big deal since the hotel was located on the university campus and only a brief walk from Ally's apartment. She could've driven her car, but she chose to walk instead, welcoming the diversion that physical activity brought.

She had spent the entire day waiting for news—any news—about her father, but there was none. To get her mind off things, she had tried to distract herself with moving preparations: she drove to Staples to buy boxes, tape, and rope, and began to pack some of her belongings. Even though she had been able to complete most of the items on her to-do list, she had been unable to get her mind off her father even for a moment. If only she could at least speak to him. After all, it wasn't as though her father was some hardened criminal; he had to be allowed to at least use the phone.

Ally took a deep breath and approached one of the clerks at the reception desk. "Allyson Roberts to see Mr. and Mrs. Graystone, please. They are expecting me." Ron had told her to come up to his parents' suite and that they would go down to dinner from there.

"Just a moment please," the clerk replied obligingly as he punched in several keystrokes on the keyboard. "I'll ring them up."

Ally smoothed her skirt, catching a quick glance of her reflection in the hotel mirror. She was wearing a pale pink silk blouse, black pencil skirt, and black ballet flats. She had little makeup and was free of jewelry with the exception of small pearl studs that adorned her earlobes. Her hair was pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck. Simple, elegant, and in control—that was the message that she wanted to project, or at least hoped to do so. She only wished she felt as collected on the inside as she looked on the outside.

"Please go on up, Ms. Roberts." The hotel clerk smiled at her benevolently, pointing in the direction of the elevator bank. "It's the top floor, the penthouse suite."

"Thank you." Ally drew a deep breath, disappointed that Ron didn't come down to the lobby to meet her. It would've been a lot less intimidating to make the journey to the Graystones' suite with Ron by her side.

Either the elevator ride was exceedingly quick or time had somehow sped up, but it seemed to Ally that she found herself standing in front of the door to the Graystones' suite in a flash of a moment. There was no use dallying around, so she straightened her back and pressed the doorbell button.

Viola Graystone opened the door. "Ally, darling!" She was just as Ally remembered her: tall, slim, and impeccable. Her ash-blond hair was perfectly coiffed, and her slim upright frame was clad in a tailored suit. At fifty-two years of age, Viola Graystone looked no older than forty. If Ron hadn't told Ally himself, it would've been impossible to guess that the true color of Mrs. Graystone's hair was almost entirely gray, and that she'd had several plastic surgeries, including a full facelift.

From the foyer Ally caught a glimpse of the living room, which had been set up with a dining table. Ron and Mr. Graystone were seated on a sofa. Mr. Graystone was explaining something intently to Ron, whose head was lowered in obedient attention.

"Come on in!" Mrs. Graystone beckoned her. "Boys, Ally is here!" Mrs. Graystone announced in a singsong voice that carried through the air with false cheer.

"Ally!" Ron rose clumsily from the couch, almost knocking over the coffee table as he walked over to greet her. "So good to see you, darling," said Ron, maintaining a distance that eliminated the possibility of even a kiss on the cheek.

What Ally really wanted was to run into Ron's arms, rest her head on his chest, and feel the comforting tightness of his warm embrace, but instead seeing how Ron's arms hung stiffly by his sides, she curbed her impulse to a smile and a nod. "Good to see you too, Ron."

"Ally, my dear!" Richard Graystone was now standing by Ally's side. Before she could reciprocate his greeting, he kissed her on both cheeks. "Well, let's not stand around. Dinner is waiting and I'm starving!" He pointed at the dinner table that had been set with plates.

"I thought we were going out for dinner," said Ally before she could stop herself.

"We thought a more intimate setting would be best, dear," Mrs. Graystone replied. She eyed Ally meaningfully. "Don't you agree?" Viola added.

"Yes, of course. It can get so noisy at a restaurant," Ally conceded, feeling her face grow warm. Were the Graystones afraid of being seen in public with her?

"Please." Mrs. Graystone motioned at the dinner table in a gesture that was more of a command than an invitation.

Ron hurried to pull out Ally's chair. Richard Graystone took a seat next to Ally, which left Ron sitting opposite Ally in a seat that was next to his mother's.

"I'll do the serving," Mrs. Graystone continued cheerfully. "It'll be just like when Richard and I were first married and I didn't have a household to run."

"Can I help?" Ally offered, half rising from her seat.

"Oh no, dear. I wouldn't hear of it." Mrs. Graystone lifted off the covers of the appetizer plates that had already been placed on the table. "The first course is pâté in croute."

Ally took a small bite of her dish. She wasn't a very big fan of pâté on a good day, but right now the prospect of shoving the slippery mixture down her cringing insides seemed like an impossible feat.

"Wine?" Mr. Graystone offered, raising a bottle of red.

"Yes, please," Ally replied gratefully, hopefully that a bit of alcohol would help her feel more at ease.

"There you are, dear." Richard Graystone poured just enough to cover the bottom of Ally's glass.

"Thank you." Ally brought the glass to her lips.

Mrs. Graystone raised an index finger, making Ally's hand freeze halfway to her mouth. "First, a toast. To new beginnings!" she said brightly.

"To new beginnings," Ally repeated, not exactly sure what it was that Mrs. Graystone had in mind. She tried to catch Ron's eyes, but his gaze seemed to be glued to his glass. Ally raised her glass to her lips and took two long gulps.

"More wine, dear?" asked Mrs. Graystone, eyeing Ally's nearly empty glass.

Ally nodded. "Yes, please." The wine did make her feel more relaxed, and while she didn't dare take on the pâté, she gamely attacked the white bread and butter that were standing in the middle of the table.

Ron reached for the wine bottle, but his father had anticipated his move. "Here you are, Ally." Mr. Graystone liberally refilled Ally's glass. "Would you like some as well, Ron?"

"No, thank you," Ron declined, sending another piece of pâté into his mouth and chewing intently.

Ally took another sip of her wine. This was the most bizarre dinner of her life. She tried to catch Ron's gaze, but failed again as Ron's attention seemed to be focused entirely on his plate.

"Is everyone ready for the second course?" Mrs. Graystone asked, rising from her seat. "Ally, I see that you barely touched your food!"

"I'm just not a big fan of pâté, Mrs. Graystone," Ally replied politely. "But I promise to do a better job with the second course." Ally noted that Mrs. Graystone's plate was mostly full, but apparently she was the only one allowed not to finish her meals.

"I sure hope so," Mrs. Graystone replied. "It's braised quail. I had it ordered by special request."

Wonderful, Ally thought. The prospect of seeing the tiny bird, braised or however cooked, was not appetizing in the least.

Mrs. Graystone swiftly removed the first course plates, and placed second course plates on the table. "Ah," she inhaled with anticipation. "One of my favorite dishes." She plunged the knife into the small bird on her plate, cutting it with swift precision. "Delicious," Mrs. Graystone announced after chewing a small bite and rinsing it down with wine.

For a few minutes everyone was quiet, focusing on the food, or in Ally's case trying not to focus on it. She pushed the quail to the side of her plate, directing her attention to the fingerling potatoes and broccoli rabe that accompanied the dish.

"Delicious," Mr. Graystone announced, pushing his plate away.

Ron nodded in agreement, but Ally was glad to see that the quail on his plate was barely touched.

"Time for dessert!" Mrs. Graystone stood up to gather the plates. "It's éclairs!"

Once they had their dessert and coffee in front of them, Mrs. Graystone broke the silence. "Ally, I think it's time to discuss the reason we came down here today."

Ally nodded, thinking it best to remain silent. This wasn't at all how she had pictured the dinner with her future in-laws. From the way Mr. and Mrs. Graystone were behaving, she wasn't even sure that Ron had told his parents about their engagement. She had decided to leave her engagement ring at home as a precaution and now was glad of it. Dinner had been awkward enough.

"We are aware of the difficult circumstances that your father is now facing and we wanted to let you know that you have our backing and support," said Mr. Graystone. "However, this is a precarious situation, and we all need to act with utmost discretion and care."

"Ron has told us about your engagement," Mrs. Graystone added solemnly.

At the sound of his mother's words, Ron glanced up quickly at Ally only to guiltily look away.

"And while this would normally be a very joyous occasion," Mrs. Graystone continued, "I am afraid that we will have to postpone the festivities until a more appropriate time." She shot a quick glance at Ally's left hand. "I see that you're not wearing the engagement ring. Good girl."

"I didn't wear the ring because I wasn't sure if Ron had had the time to tell you the news," Ally retorted. She had wanted to be polite, but her tone was sharper than she intended. She had had enough; if the Graystones thought they were going to intimidate her into being ashamed of her father, they had another thing coming.

Mrs. Graystone smiled easily. "Yes, dear. Richard and I are the least of your concerns at the moment. It's the press that we all should be worried about. Naturally, you must understand that the Graystone name carries certain expectations with it, and it wouldn't do for it to be embroiled in a scandal."

"Embroiled in a scandal? Just what exactly are you implying, Mrs. Graystone?" Ally retorted. "My father is innocent, and it is only a matter of time until his innocence is proven."

"Please, darling, call me Viola. If we're going to be mother and daughter-in-law, we have to be on a first name basis," Mrs. Graystone replied in a perfectly controlled voice. "I'm not trying to imply anything, but am merely stating the facts. Your father, while a respected member of the business community in the past, now happens to be held in jail, without bail no less and on very serious charges. Or have I missed anything?"

"Mother!" Ron exclaimed, half-rising from his chair. "You can't speak to Ally that way!"

"Sit down, Ron," Mrs. Graystone said firmly, without as much as a glance at Ron who sheepishly obeyed his mother's command. "Well, Ally, have I missed anything?"

Ally merely stared back at Viola's icy gaze, unable to say a word. It took all of her self-control to hold back tears. It was not the searing words coming from Viola's mouth that had unhinged her, but the frightened look on Ron's face. She could barely recognize the man she had agreed to spend the rest of her life with in the scared, cowering boy she saw now.

"Now, now, let's all calm down," Richard Graystone interjected. "Ally, please forgive Viola for getting too emotional. She tends to do that, but she really means well. If we're going to get through this, we have to all stand together. All Viola was trying to say is that we need to be mindful of our actions at this time." Mr. Graystone took a quick sip of his coffee. "Ally, we think it would be best to postpone the announcement of your and Ron's engagement until things have quieted down a bit. I'm sure your father's name is going to be exonerated in due time, and then we can make the announcement. It'll be a much more joyous occasion that way, wouldn't you agree?"

Ally didn't reply back. She didn't even look at Mr. Graystone; instead, she was looking at Ron.

Ron lowered his eyes. He looked like a lost puppy. "This won't change anything between us, Ally, I promise."

Slowly, Ally rose from her seat. It took all of her self-control to subdue the tremor that was threatening to overtake her body. Despite Ron's assurances that his parents would support her, she had felt uneasy about this meeting from the beginning, and now she knew that she had been right. The Graystones might put on a friendly facade, which wasn't even the case with Mrs. Graystone, but in reality all they were worried about was marring the venerable Graystone name by being associated with that of the Roberts. Ally wanted to assure them that they needn't worry about it, not anymore. "Thank you, Richard and Viola, for your concern. I very much appreciate it. Naturally, we wouldn't want the press to have a field day, so you needn't worry; the news of Ron's and my engagement will remain secret," she paused, taking a deep breath, almost in disbelief of what she was about to say. Yet there was no choice but to say it. "Because there will be no news to report. The engagement is off. Ron, I will return the ring to you tomorrow." She pushed her chair back. "No need to get up," she added, "I will let myself out."

"Ally!" Ron jumped up from his seat, pushing his chair so hard that it fell back with a thump.

"Sit down, Ron," Mrs. Graystone seethed. "This is for the best."

"No, it isn't!" Ron exploded. "It isn't for the best, at least not for me! You know how much Ally means to me and still you sit here and insult her. And like a spineless moron I let you do it. I've had it. I won't let you run my life." Ally was making her way to the foyer. "Ally, don't leave!" Ron shouted after her.

"Do not take that tone with me, young man," Mrs. Graystone commanded. "Or have you forgotten the responsibilities that come with the name that you have the privilege of bearing?"

"You can take your name and your responsibilities and shove them up your—" Ron snapped. "I am going after Ally."

Just as the remnants of Ron's words carried within shot of Ally's ears, she shut the front door behind her and ran for the elevator. She'd be a liar not to admit that her stride could've been much swifter as she was making her way out of the Graystones' suite, but curiosity—if one could use such a light word to describe the emotions that were raging inside her—had gotten the better of her. A part of her still wanted to believe that Ron would not turn his back on her; that two years of passionate declarations of love, promises, and plans couldn't be erased in one fell swoop. She'd said what she said in the heat of the moment, fueled by the hurt that she felt from Mrs. Graystone's patronizing words and Ron's meek acquiescence, but deep down she wanted to hope that Ron was still the man she had fallen in love with. A faint smile of satisfaction passed over her lips: at least he cared enough to go after her. It didn't mean that she was ready to forgive him and to take back her words, but at least it gave her the small consolation of knowing that her relationship with Ron had meant enough to him to stand up to his mother.

Luckily, an elevator arrived within seconds, closing its doors behind her just as Ron's footsteps could be heard gaining on her down the hall. "Ally!" she heard him call just as the elevator shut its doors.

Ally sprinted through the lobby towards the exit. Once outside, she scanned the area for an empty cab. There was no question of walking back to her place, as Ron would catch up with her within minutes. Thankfully, an elderly couple was getting out of a taxi that had pulled up in front of the hotel. The gentleman was already on the ground, helping the lady out of the car. Ally jumped in just as soon as the woman's second foot was on the ground, earning a disapproving look from the couple, but Ally didn't care: anything to avoid having to see Ron's face or hear his voice.

***

Back at the hotel suite Richard Graystone shook his head. "You know, Viola, you never cease to amaze me. You are an intelligent woman, but sometimes you act like an impulsive schoolgirl. Must you always let your temper get the better of you?"

Viola Graystone placed her hands on her hips in a defensive gesture. "My temper, Richard? I must say, I can't imagine who could possibly remain cool in a situation like this."

"I could."

"Yes, of course, you and your cool logic. Never let emotions get in the way, be it in the courtroom or in life."

"That's right, Viola. But let me ask you, what have you accomplished with your little outburst? Our son's fiancée stormed off and our son thinks we're out to ruin his life. Bravo!"

"I wasn't planning to accomplish anything." Viola pursed her lips. "I can't plan and calculate every word I say, Richard. Not when talking to my son. I'm not in a courtroom, for crying out loud."

"But don't you see, Viola? This is no different from a courtroom. We need to present our case and convince the jury to make the decision that would satisfy us. Only instead of the jury we need to convince Ron."

"For crying out loud, stop talking to me as though I were a child!"

"Then stop acting like one and pull yourself together."

"How can I when Ron wants to marry that horrid girl? I didn't like her even before the scandal, but now it's simply out of the question."

"It won't be out the question unless Ron agrees with us, and right now I don't see him agreeing. Do you?"

Viola Graystone sighed heavily. "Why couldn't things have worked out between Ron and Annette? They were perfect for each other."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Viola. It sounded like Annette had made a cuckold of our son with the local fraternity boys."

"Fiddlesticks! Don't be so melodramatic, Richard. If I had a fit every time you had one of your escapades, I'd be in a mental institution. Marriage requires commitment, patience, and a certain degree of leniency."

"True." Richard Graystone nodded curtly, not being at all pleased with his wife's mention of his infidelity. He had paid handsomely for his misbehavior: Viola's jewelry collection was extensive to say the least. Still, that didn't mean that he wanted the same fate for his son, but then neither was he certain that that Ally girl was the right choice either, not with a scandal hanging over her father. "But you forget that Ron and Annette weren't married; they weren't even engaged. And if a young lady lacks the restraint to be faithful to her boyfriend, what kind of wife would she make?"

"One with an impeccable pedigree," Viola said pointedly.

Richard Graystone smirked. This was too good to pass up. "I don't remember you being so concerned with pedigree when you worked as a secretary at my father's law firm, flirting with the senior partner's son."

Not even a hint of blush touched Viola's cheeks. "I worked as a secretary because my family had lost its money, but don't you forget that my family has a history that is just as illustrious as that of the Graystones."

Sans the bank account, Richard Graystone thought, but decided that it was best to keep his thoughts to himself. He didn't want to infuriate Viola; merely needling her was enough.

"Victor Roberts, however, sprung on the social map like some kind of fungus, and now that vulgar man has finally got what he deserves."

"Come on, Viola. One could hardly call him vulgar—crowd shy is more like it. Victor Roberts is one of the most generous men I've ever met. There isn't a charity out there that he doesn't support."

"Precisely. It's vulgar and it shows a lack of real dedication. He doesn't really care for any of the causes; he just thinks he can buy his way into society by flashing his wallet. Now the truth comes out. For all we know he made all those donations to cover up his shenanigans. The man is a fraudster."

"Don't be so quick to judge, Viola. We don't know anything about what really happened there. But I agree with you that right now Allyson Roberts is not the ideal match for Ron." The truth of it was that Richard Graystone had welcomed Ally as a daughter-in-law because she would have increased his son's bank account. The Graystones were far from poor, but the difference between old money and new money was that old money tended to dwindle if not occasionally refreshed with new blood—this was something that Viola failed to understand, despite the lesson she should've learned from her own family's unfortunate circumstances. The law firm earned respectable income, but it didn't generate anything near the revenue of Roberts Enterprises. Of course now, because of the scandal, Roberts Enterprises' profits were bound to plummet. Still, things could always turn around, and for now Richard thought it would be sufficient simply to put a damper on the relationship and see how things played out.

"And what are you going to do about it, Richard?"

"I'm going to let things cool a bit."

"How exactly do you propose to do that? By standing here and arguing with me when you should be knocking some sense back into our son?"

A self-indulgent smile appeared on Richard Graystone's face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. Viola's unflinching nature was the source of both exasperation and tenderness to him, and right now the latter won. He had tortured his wife enough. Despite her rigid facade, she was quite helpless underneath. Operating behind the scenes was his specialty. "Oh, there are ways, Viola. There are always ways."

# Chapter 5

Ally shut the door behind her and pressed her back against it. No matter how much it hurt, she refused to cry. She was going to get a hell of a lot tougher from now on. Until now she had been putting Ron on a pedestal; in her eyes he could do no wrong. He seemed so responsible, so understanding, so committed, and he still was, but not to her.

As if on cue there was light tapping on her front door. She heard Ron's voice on the other side of the door, "Ally, it's me. Please open up. Please let me in and let me explain."

A part of her wanted to fling the door open and fall right into his arms. Why not let him explain? Why not let him make her feel that everything was okay? Because it wasn't, that's why. No amount of passionate assurances Ron was going to shower her with could erase the betrayal she felt.

"Ally, please! I know you're there. I can see that the light is on. Please open the door and let me explain."

Ally shut her eyes tighter, wishing Ron would just give up and leave. Where was his fervor when it was really needed? Why did he sit through the entire dinner letting Viola insult her? The picture of Ron's face during his mother's tirade appeared before Ally's eyes. She had never seen him look so helpless and lost. Maybe she was being too hard on Ron. Viola Graystone was a very domineering figure, and Ron did speak up—even if it had taken him the entire dinner to muster up his courage.

"Fine, if you don't open up the door, I'm going to sleep right here on your doorstep," Ron declared. "And you needn't worry—I've left my spare key at home, and I won't try to get inside unless you want to talk to me. Your doormat will do just fine for a mattress," he added, no doubt hoping to make her feel guilty.

In spite of herself Ally laughed. She had little to smile about in her present situation, but Ron's antics did the trick. Maybe she was being too hard on him. He did go after her after all, and he was even willing to brave sleeping on her doormat. She had no idea how serious Ron was about his threat, and she didn't intend to find out. The last thing she needed was a nosy neighbor poking around her yard, or worse, calling the police at the sight of Ron sprawled on her doorstep. Slowly, Ally opened the door. "Come in," she said quietly.

"Oh, Ally!" Ron leaned in to hug her, but she moved away.

"You said you wanted to talk, so let's talk." Ally motioned for him to take a seat on the couch in the living room.

Obediently, Ron followed. "Do you have anything to drink?" he asked. "I'm parched from chasing after you."

Without acknowledging his last remark, she grabbed two beers from the kitchen and popped the caps off the bottles. She didn't really want a drink, but it would keep her hands busy while talking to Ron.

"Thanks, babe." Ron took a long swig of his beer. "Ah, that feels good. This heat is ungodly and it's not even summer yet. Boy, am I glad we're moving back to Boston—" he cut himself short. "Ally, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Ron. I'm sorry that my father is in jail, and I'm sorry that you're stuck with me, having to deal with it all."

"Ally! That's not what I meant—"

"So I'm just going to come out and say it. I'm not going to pretend that it's easy for me, but I want to be fair to you, to both of us. I'm not going to ask you to choose between your loyalty to me and to your family. But if you want to be with me, if what we had together means anything to you, then I have to ask you to grow a backbone."

"Ally!"

"How could you sit there and let your mother say those things to me? I would've never done something like that to you."

"Ally! She means well. It's just her way of dealing with the world. She comes off as hard as nails, but she really isn't. She's just worried about you, about us. Look, I'm not defending her; the way she acted tonight was wrong. But you can't expect me to pick sides."

Why not? Ally wanted to ask. If I had to, I'd pick your side in a minute. But then it was all much more complicated than that, especially when your last name was Graystone. Slowly, Ally stood up.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked, alarmed.

"I'll be right back." She headed to her bedroom, each step taking an enormous amount of willpower.

Once inside her bedroom, she pulled open the top drawer of her dresser and took out a velvet jewelry box. She opened it and looked at its contents for several moments. Inside was an antique gold flower-shaped diamond ring Ron had bought in an antique store. Ally had admired the ring in the window when they had passed by it sometime before. Not a conventional choice for an engagement ring, but Ally loved it. She had not taken the ring off since the night Ron had proposed, today being the only exception as she had not wanted to blindside his parents with the news of their engagement. Ally snapped the box shut and walked back to the living room. She could hardly believe what she was about to do. It almost felt like she was sleepwalking or watching some other person masquerading as herself, but it was her all right. Without saying a word, she handed the box to Ron.

"Ally, you don't mean this. You don't want us to end, do you?"

She lowered her eyes. A part of her wished she could say yes. If only she were strong enough, but she wasn't. Still, she knew she had to do something to get Ron to man up. "I'm giving it back to you for safekeeping," she murmured, clasping his fingers and closing them around the box. "You see, I may not like the way your mother treated me tonight, but I do agree with her. I think we shouldn't reveal our engagement just yet. I've never been a very good liar, so I think for now it's best to put our engagement on hold."

"On hold? What does that mean?"

"It means that we're hitting the pause button until this terrible misunderstanding around my dad blows over."

"And then what?"

She was surprised he even had to ask. "Then, if you still want to marry me, you'll give the ring back to me. I know we can get through this. The question is, are you strong enough to do it? And do you want it bad enough?"

"Ally! Why do you even ask? You know I do."

"Then there's nothing to worry about. It's like that old saying goes: if you love something, let it go so that it can come back to you. I'm letting you go, Ron," Ally said bravely, thankful that her voice wasn't quivering. And I hope to God you'll come back to me, she wanted to add, but didn't.

Ron sighed. Whether it was relief or despair, Ally couldn't quite tell. "I'm not going anywhere, Ally. I'm right here," he whispered, taking her arm.

His lips found hers, and he kissed her gently at first, and then more passionately. He pulled her closer toward him; his caresses grew more intense, eliciting a powerful physical reaction from her. It would be so easy to give in, but she wasn't going to, not tonight. Firmly, Ally pulled away from him.

"Not tonight, Ron. I think you'd better go back to your parents' hotel. They are probably worried sick about you."

"I guess I deserve that," Ron said sheepishly.

"I'm not trying to punish you, Ron!" Ally retorted, shocked by the shallowness of his response. Was this merely physical pleasure for him? She might not like talking about sex, but that didn't mean that she didn't like the act of sex itself. Up until tonight sex with Ron had been the most powerful sensation her body had ever experienced. It was far more than the physical pleasure, which was intense to say the least. It was the closeness that she felt between them as their bodies united and became one ecstasy-driven being. But tonight she felt a wide gash between them, and it was going to take more than carnal pleasure to heal it. She hoped that Ron understood that.

"I'll be going now." Ron got up and headed for the door. "I will call you tomorrow."

"Ron?"

"Yes?"

Ally deliberated; she hated having to say what she was going to say next, but she knew it had to be done. "Please tell your mother I'm sorry for the way I acted tonight." She didn't really feel sorry, but she was saying it for Ron. Truth be told, she probably could've handled Ron's mother in a much calmer manner. Apologies were the price one paid for having a hot temper.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Ally. It was a difficult night for all of us. We're going to get through this together." Ron held up the box with her engagement ring. "I'll make sure this is safe and sound."

# Chapter 6

The next morning Ally was in the middle of packing when she heard a loud knock on her front door. _Please don't let it be Ron_ , she thought. She was in no state to face him right now. She had woken up this morning filled with regrets for the way she acted yesterday. She had displayed an impressive bravado, but underneath it she was scared of losing Ron. Last night her actions had seemed validated by her hurt pride and self-righteousness, but today she was no longer sure it had been the right reaction. If faced with him this very minute, she feared she might take back every single word she had said to him last night, and while it would take away her fear of loneliness, it would do nothing to quell her concerns about his loyalty. The knocking on the door grew louder and Ally hurried to the foyer. She took a look though the peephole and felt instant relief: it was only Maddie.

Ally flung open the door. "What a nice surprise. I didn't know you were stopping by."

"If you had answered any of my calls or emails, you wouldn't be so surprised."

"Sorry. I've had a lot on my mind."

"I'll say." Maddie made her way inside, looking around suspiciously. "You started packing?"

"I figured I might as well. It'll keep my mind off of things."

"So you're still moving to Boston?"

"Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?" Ally already knew the answer, but she decided to ask anyway. The longer she could postpone the dreaded subjected of her and Ron's engagement, the better.

"Ron told me."

"I figured." Ally lowered her eyes.

"I think you did exactly the right thing," Maddie declared. "Not that you need my opinion, but Ron can be an indecisive wishy-washy—"

"You don't have to bash Ron for my sake, Maddie."

"I'm not bashing him for your sake. I'm bashing him because he's an indecisive jerk. He needs to stop letting Mom boss him around and decide for himself." Maddie plopped herself on the sofa. "I heard that dinner last night was intense."

"Intense doesn't begin to describe it." Ally sighed, taking a seat next to her friend.

"Any word from your dad?"

"Nothing today. I keep checking my phone for messages. I wanted to fly out there to see him, but Uncle Otto told me to stay put."

"That's probably a good idea. You should listen to him."

"I no longer know what makes sense. It feels like a horrible nightmare. I know that my dad would've never done the things they are accusing him of—he prides himself on quality work. My father spent countless sleepless nights to make sure that the Pollux maintenance contract would go off without a hitch. And now they are claiming that Roberts Enterprises is responsible for Pollux plants' breaking down? I don't believe it." Ally frowned. She had been wracking her brain over what could have gone wrong with the Pollux project, but without being on the ground and knowing the details of each and every part of the project there was no way for her to achieve any other result except exhausting her brain. She wished she could get access to the invoices and order records to trace each and every shipment and installation. The answer had to be in there. Somewhere, somehow there had to have been a glitch in the process. And then there was also the possibility that Pollux mishandled the equipment and put the blame on Roberts Enterprises. Negligence was not unheard of. Why should Pollux be above suspicion? These were the questions she had wanted to ask Uncle Otto, but had held back instead. She was sure there were forensic investigators working on the scene, and they were bound to get to the bottom of things.

"What are you going to do about Ron?" Maddie asked.

Ally sighed. If only it were that simple. "I'm going to let Ron decide what he wants."

"Then you're going to be waiting for a very long time for him to make up his mind. Take it from me—I'm his twin. I know him better than anyone."

"Jeez, Maddie, thanks for telling me that now. Don't you think you should've mentioned it to me before you set me up on a date with your brother? And don't deny it—you've been plotting to get us together ever since we became friends."

Maddie's face reddened. "The truth is, Ally, that I might have done you a disservice. I thought you could change Ron, and I think you still can. Don't get me wrong, he's a good guy, but he's just too passive. He lets Mom and Dad run his life and he worries too much about what things look like. I thought he could get away from it all if he had you by his side, but now things have changed, and he needs to step up to the plate. You need to be able to count on him, and if you can't do that—"

"So what do you suggest I do?"

"Come to New York with me. Let it get through his thick scalp how much he needs you."

"I can't go back to New York! Uncle Otto told me to stay put, and didn't you just tell me to listen to him?"

"I meant for the time being, but after graduation you should come with me to New York."

"I'm supposed to start with Lorman & Matherson in Boston after graduation. Should I just blow them off and come have fun with you in New York to make Ron jealous?"

"Did you get the offer letter already?"

"Not yet, but they made a verbal offer. The letter is just a formality. It's supposed to come any day now."

"I see." Maddie looked away. "If anything changes, my offer remains open indefinitely."

"Thanks, Maddie. I really appreciate it, but as much as I'd like to, I can't. More than anything I need to have a job right now. I don't want my father to have to worry about me on top of everything else he has to deal with. And as for Ron . . . he'll just have to decide for himself. I don't want him to be obligated to do anything he doesn't want to do." Ally was amazed by how brave she sounded. If only she felt as resolute on the inside as she managed to look on the outside.

Just then Ally's telephone rang. She read the name Lorman & Matherson on the caller ID screen.

"I'd better get this!" Ally exclaimed, grabbing her phone.

"Hello, may I speak to Allyson Roberts?" a formal female voice asked.

"Speaking," Ally replied calmly. Inside she was jittery with excitement. Despite what she had said to Maddie, she had been worried sick about the letter. Nothing was ever final until all the i's were dotted and all the t's were crossed.

"Hello, Ally. This is Angela Whitman from Lorman & Matherson."

"Hi, Angela." Ally felt relieved. Angela had been coordinating Ally's interviews at Lorman. This had to be good news.

"We regret to inform you that Lorman & Matherson will not be able to extend you the offer of employment."

The shock of what she had just heard was so great that Ally thought she might have misheard things. "But I had a verbal offer from the head of the department," Ally retorted.

"Lorman & Matherson is aware that a verbal offer had been made to you. However, given that the needs of the department have changed, the position for which you were being considered has been downsized. We thank you for your time and interest in Lorman & Matherson and wish you all the best in your future endeavors."

Ally heard a click on the other side of the receiver. She stared at the phone in her hand.

"What is it? What did they say?" Seeing the shock on Ally's face, Maddie rushed to her friend's side.

"Looks like I'm out of a job. Apparently their plans changed, and the position I was applying for no longer exists. But I really don't think that's the reason." It was scary to think how quickly the world around her was collapsing. Her world had come apart the moment her father's name appeared in the papers with those terrifying accusations next to it. Ally had hoped to keep it together by being independent and strong, but now it was becoming clear to her that she was being seen as a mere extension of her father.

"I'm so sorry, Ally," Maddie murmured. "Can't you sue them or something?"

"I only had a verbal offer, but from what I remember from my freshman intro to law class, that's still a contract. I could talk to Uncle Otto, but I'm not going to—he's got a lot to deal with as it is. Just imagine a headline in the papers: 'Victor Roberts' Daughter Sues Lorman & Matherson.' I don't think so. Had things been different, I might have gone for it, but not now. You suspected this might happen, didn't you?"

"I just thought it was strange of them to take this long with the letter."

"Yeah, so did I. I just didn't want to think that anything was wrong. So it looks like I'm going to take you up on your offer about New York, if it's still open."

"Of course it's still open!" Maddie shrieked. "We're going to be roommates in the most exciting city in the world!" Maddie put her hand over her mouth. "Um, sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I'm really sorry about your job and everything that's happened . . . "

Ally smiled. She had little cause for celebration, but at least she still had a true friend. "Don't worry about it, Maddie. You don't know how happy I am to hear you say it."

"Then I'll say it again. We're going to be roommates! And those jerks at Lorman & Matherson are going to be sorry they ditched you. You're going to get a much better job elsewhere, and Ron is going to be back, dropping on one knee in no time."

"I hope you're right, Maddie. I hope you're right."

"You'd better start packing then. Just wait till you see the apartment I picked! You're going to love it! It's on the Upper East side, close to Central Park."

"That sounds expensive," Ally said cautiously. "Are you sure you want a roommate without a job?"

"You can pay me back later. I've still got a job, so I can pay the rent on my own, no problem."

"Thanks, Maddie. I'll pay you back every penny."

"Don't mention it. I'll be back tomorrow to help you pack, but right now I've got to run," Maddie said guiltily. "Mom and Dad want to have lunch. They're staying here until graduation. Can you believe it? The rest of this week is going to be torture."

"I'm afraid you have me to blame for that."

"Nonsense. I have overbearing parents to blame for it. I'd blow them off, but I have to go over there and maintain the status quo after the debacle last night."

"I hope my name won't come up."

"If it does, you can count on me to defend it to my last breath. Hang in there, partner!" In her usual dramatic fashion, Maddie swept out the door.

No sooner had Maddie left than Ally's phone rang again. She picked it up on the first ring.

"Ally?" Her father's voice sent her heart racing.

"Daddy! I'm so glad you called. I've been so worried about you! How are you?" The question sounded stupid the minute it flew off her lips. How could her dad possibly be? He was in prison, wrongly accused.

"I'm fine, Ally. I'm completely fine. How are you holding up?"

It was so much like her dad to worry about everyone else but himself. "I'm okay. I'm worried about you, Dad. The accusations in the papers—I told Uncle Otto that they can't possibly be true. He has to get to the bottom of this. He has to prove that you're innocent."

"My Ally, I know I can always count on you to believe in me."

"Of course I believe in you, Dad. I'm so proud of everything you've done. I'm so proud to be your daughter."

"Even now?"

"Now more than ever."

"I feel much better hearing you say that, kiddo. I know now I'm going to be all right."

"Dad, isn't there anything I could do to help?"

"You already did, kiddo, by saying what you said just now."

"Dad, I'm not a kid anymore. I could help, you know."

"I know, Ally. But to me you'll always be my kiddo, kiddo. So please indulge your old man."

"You're anything but old, Dad!" Ally could hardly believe the levity in her father's tone. This was not a time for jokes. They should be strategizing to get him out of jail instead.

Her father's voice grew serious. "Ally, there is one thing that you can do for me, a very important thing . . . "

"What is it?" Ally asked with bated breath.

"Please take care of yourself and stop worrying about me. Now, I know that it may sound like a simple task, but it really isn't as easy as it sounds because I know how you are. You're going to drive yourself crazy with worry, and that's exactly what I don't want you to do. Now I'm not going to sugarcoat things—things are pretty serious—but I have excellent lawyers defending me, and I'm confident of the outcome. It may take some time, but we will prevail. What I don't want you to do is worry about me. I want you to go on with your life."

"Okay, Dad. I'll try." Ally bit her lip. What her dad was asking of her seemed impossible, but the least she could do was make him believe that she was carrying out his wishes.

"Are you excited about graduation?" her father asked.

"I don't care about graduation, Dad," Ally retorted, forgetting about her earlier resolution. She was going to have to do better than that.

"Don't you say that, Ally. It's your time right now, and I'm so sorry that I can't be there for you. How's Ron taking all of this?"

"He's fine. He's confident everything will turn out all right." There was no way Ally was telling her father about the disastrous dinner with the Graystones.

"And his family?"

"They are being supportive," Ally lied. "I don't want to waste time talking about the Graystones, Dad. I want to talk about you."

"Ally! What kind of way is that to talk about your future family?"

"I'm sorry, Dad. I just don't want you to worry about them. They are all fine." Ally paused, intuiting that her father wasn't going to like what she was about to ask, but she had to ask him anyway. "Dad, isn't there any way I could visit you?"

"Ally, please listen to me. If there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that I don't want my daughter to be anywhere near a jail, let alone go inside one. This place isn't for you. We're going to apply for bail again. I hope to be out of here soon enough, and I'll see you then, kiddo."

When? Ally wanted to ask, but she knew better than to torment her father with questions he didn't have answers to.

"Besides, you're going to be busy with your new job, so you probably won't have time for your old man."

"I'll always have time for you, Dad," Ally's voice caught. She simply couldn't bring herself to tell her father about Lorman & Matherson rescinding their job offer. She had never lied to her father, but today she had broken a record: not one but two lies. The fact that she had lied to spare her father grief was her only defense and consolation.

"I have to go, kiddo, but we'll talk again soon. I promise."

"Okay, Dad. Take care of yourself. I love you.

"I love you too, Ally, very much. Remember, kiddo, even when things aren't looking that bright, there's always tomorrow to look forward to."

"I know, Dad. I love you."

The connection ended, but Ally continued clutching the phone tightly, as though hoping that it would bring her closer to her father. A moment ago his voice had been on the other side of the receiver, and now it was gone. She wanted to believe that she would see him soon; she had to. Her dad had promised her that, and if there was one thing she was certain of it was that her father would never lie to her.

# Chapter 7 - Two Months Later

Ally climbed the last step of the walk-up building where she and Maddie shared an apartment on the Upper East Side in New York City. Still panting, she plunged the key into the front door lock and after several forceful jerks pushed it open. She threw her bag onto the floor, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed on the couch. Normally she had much neater habits, but today she was exhausted. It had been yet another day of knocking on doors only to have the door shut right back in her face.

At times it seemed surreal how much her life had changed since that fateful day when she saw her father's name next to the horrible accusations in newspaper headlines. Roberts Enterprises was gone. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the company had been declared bankrupt. The claims presented for the losses that Pollux had incurred from shutting down their plants were enormous, but when coupled with the claims presented by the customers that purchased electricity from Pollux, which included several states and major corporations, the claims became astronomical, sealing the fate of Roberts Enterprises. There was no choice but to declare the company bankrupt. But even then there was still hope for salvation, as Roberts' lawyers looked for possible creditors to foot the financial obligations that Roberts Enterprises was faced with. Despite the accusations, there were several interested parties, but before these plans could come to fruition, the final blow was dealt.

In what was lauded as an act of valiance, Victor Roberts' major competitor, Blaine Platt, owner of Infinity Capital, stepped in with an offer to purchase the equipment manufacturing and installation facilities of Roberts Enterprises along with the company's patents, and took over Roberts Enterprises' contracts at cost. In the interest of time, the judge sanctioned the sale to Infinity Capital, deeming all other bids irrelevant. Victor Roberts' sentence was due to be announced the next day, but Ally's father never heard it. The shock of seeing his company destroyed had proven to be too much. He passed away from heart failure the night before the verdict was read.

Ally got to see her father shortly before he passed away. She had pleaded with him and despite his earlier protests against her coming to see him in jail, he had agreed to a visit. Now, thinking back, she realized that instead of experiencing a brief joy at the prospect of seeing him, she should have been devastated. Her father's change of heart had meant that he was giving up. She had planned to say so much to her father, but when she saw him looking frail and thin, seeming years older than she remembered him, words failed her. Even then he had put on a brave face for her, assuring her that they were going to keep fighting. She had believed him, but her father's promise was not within his ability to keep. The sale of Roberts Enterprises to Infinity Capital was sanctioned the next morning, and the night of that day her father passed away. There were no more tomorrows left for them to make up for all the missed time together. Her father was gone.

Ally had watched the rest of the proceedings unfold, numbed by devastating grief. With her father gone, the prosecution no longer had the power over his being, but they had made sure to tarnish his legacy. Victor Roberts was deemed personally responsible for the production failures of Pollux, and his personal assets were ordered to be liquidated to compensate the injured parties. In plain language, she was now penniless. With the exception of a few thousand dollars that she had managed to save from her allowance there wasn't a dollar more she could claim to her name.

She had been looking for a job for two months, but it was as though she were a leper. The same employers who had been eager to hire her before graduation would now not even return her calls. During the few interviews she had managed to secure, inevitably the question would come up about her name. At first she had been honest, and each time there had been a perceptible change in the interviewer's demeanor. After several failed interviews, Ally decided to change her strategy, saying that she was of no relation to Victor Roberts of Roberts Enterprises. It was easy enough—after all, Roberts was a common enough name—but it had hurt her to lie and made her feel like she was betraying her father. Still, she had gone through with it and had come close to an offer from a small engineering firm, but the whole thing fell apart after a background check. At this rate Ally would be out on the street in no time. Even though he couldn't always be there for her in person, her father had always been such a large presence in Ally's life that she had never before realized how alone the two of them were. With her father gone, there was literally no one for her to turn to. With both her mother and her father being only children, Ally didn't have any uncles or aunts, and both of her grandparents were long gone. Maddie had been wonderfully supportive, telling her not to worry about the rent, but Ally knew that she couldn't leech off her friend indefinitely.

Uncle Otto had been like family to her, but even though he had offered to help, she refused to be a burden to him. With his pension invested in Roberts Enterprises stock, Otto Bauer's retirement had been wiped out. Mercifully, his own children were older than Ally and already had successful careers in different fields, so at least he didn't have to worry about supporting them. Still, the thought of being a burden on his children terrified him. He had been planning to retire early, but now all of that was shot and he would need to continue working into his old age. Ally had visited Uncle Otto and his wife and both looked like shadows of their former selves.

She felt a powerless rage at seeing how the lives of her father and those close to him had been destroyed in one swift stroke. Her father had been so certain of his company that he had invested everything he had into it. Unlike some of the executives, he didn't hide his assets, keeping all of his fortune in the company stock, and now all of it was gone. The same went for Uncle Otto, and many of the faithful employees who had worked for Roberts Enterprises over the years. Had Victor Roberts been dishonest in his business, he would have taken the necessary precautions to hedge his bets and hide his money elsewhere, but he didn't. The same went for everyone who had worked with him. Ally remembered asking her father whether he had rivals or enemies who could have orchestrated the failure of Pollux's plants, to which her father had merely laughed and shrugged. "Ally, dear, I didn't have time to bother with enemies! I was too busy building my company." Now it was clear that her father should've been more vigilant.

Despite the verdict, Ally was convinced that her father was innocent, and she was determined to clear his name. Just how she was going to go about it, she had no idea, but as naïve as it sounded, she had pledged to make it her life's mission. She knew she would have to take small steps; the first thing she had to do was get a job, any job. On her way home, she had seen a sign for a waitressing job. The restaurant was said to be closed on Mondays, but tomorrow she would go in and apply. Hopefully the restaurant owner wouldn't care whether Ally was related to Victor Roberts. It wasn't exactly what she had envisioned her life to be, but she had to start somewhere. There was no Prince Charming galloping in on a white horse to rescue her.

Ally rose from the couch and noticed a blinking light on the answering machine. She pressed the messages button with hope.

"Good afternoon, this is Gladys Moon from the Department of Energy. We have received your résumé and would like to see you for an interview tomorrow morning at ten a.m. Please call us to confirm—"

Ally grabbed a notepad and pen and hurriedly wrote down the number. A moment later, she dialed the number and confirmed her interview for tomorrow. She was told that she had been just in time. It was a quarter to five; a few minutes more and Gladys Moon would have left for the day.

***

As Ally approached the appointed address for her interview at the Department of Energy, she felt tremors run down her spine. It was the middle of summer and New York was scorching hot, but the wetness that Ally felt under her arms and on her palms was not caused by heat. Before, in a life that now seemed years away, she had not been nervous at interviews. She had been excited and eager, confident that she was a candidate who had a lot to offer to any company in her field with her education and internship experience. Her accomplishments had not changed, but now she was afraid. She was scared of rejection. This was her last chance for a job—a job she had spent four years studying for. If she didn't get it, she'd be waiting tables, and who knew when she was going to get another interview? Probably never. Ally took a deep breath and pulled open the building door. Up until yesterday she didn't even know that the Department of Energy had an office in New York; she assumed that they were only in Washington. Truth be told, she didn't even remember applying for the job, but what difference did that make? She got the call. At this point, she was willing to take anything, even a clerical job.

After signing in with the security desk, Ally was given a temporary ID and told to wait to be escorted upstairs. She didn't have to wait long.

"Ally?"

Ally recognized Gladys Moon by her chirpy voice. Gladys looked to be in her mid-forties, had short brown hair, and was dressed in a beige linen suit. Her feet were sporting cream colored flats. She was doing her best to maintain corporate attire in New York's merciless summer heat.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Moon."

"Gladys, dear, please call me Gladys. It's right this way." Gladys pointed at the elevator bank. "Marion is expecting you. We'd better hurry. Marion's schedule is packed."

Ally nodded and clutched her briefcase, which contained copies of her résumé printed on ivory-colored stationery. Last night Gladys had mentioned that the interview would be with the head of the department, and Ally assumed that's who Marion was.

Once they exited the elevator, Gladys briskly walked down the gray-carpeted corridor, flanked by office doors on either side. She stopped at the last door and knocked.

"Come in."

Gladys opened the door and motioned for Ally to walk inside. "Allyson Roberts," Gladys announced and took her leave.

"Hi, Allyson, I'm Marion Phillips. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Phillips." As Marion Phillips rose from her desk to shake Ally's hand, Ally studied her future boss. Marion Phillips looked more like a movie star than a government official. At first glance she looked to be no more than forty. She was dressed in an expertly tailored gray designer suit that showed off her long slender legs. The skin on her face was smooth and taut, with a perfectly chiseled nose, piercing green eyes, and sensual lips that parted in a smile that revealed a row of perfectly aligned, dazzlingly white teeth. Only a closer look at her bobbed hair that was so white that it at first appeared to be bleached, suggested that her real age was probably closer to fifty.

"Please take a seat." Marion motioned at the chair opposite her desk. "And please call me Marion."

Ally lowered herself into the seat and was about to hand her résumé to Marion when Marion produced her own copy from a folder on her desk. Incidentally, it was printed on stationery identical to the kind Ally had in her bag.

"Your background is quite impressive," Marion remarked. The bifocals she donned to read the print gave her a sexy librarian look.

"Thank you, Marion." Ally launched into a summary of her background, listing the awards she had won in college and the internships she had completed during her summers.

"Yes, I am very well aware of your accomplishments," Marion said, and Ally felt her heart sink. Did she overdo it? "What I'd like to know is whether you are interested in working for our agency?"

"Yes, I am, Ms. Phillips," Ally halted, noticing Marion raise an eyebrow. "I mean, Marion. I'm very interested. Working for the Department of Energy would be a wonderful opportunity to contribute to an organization of such great importance. It would be an honor—"

"But you don't even know what the job is," Marion said, peering over her bifocals, a smile playing on her lips.

"My understanding is that the job is in the engineering department," Ally said, taking a chance. She really had no idea what the job was, but given that she was an engineering and physics major interviewing for the Department of Energy, it had to be at least somewhat connected to engineering.

"Partially," Marion conceded. "Your background and expertise will certainly come in handy. But you may also be required to perform other tasks and acquire additional skills."

"Such as?"

"Before we can proceed any further, I have to ask you to sign this non-disclosure agreement." Marion plonked a pile of papers down that was about an inch thick.

Ally reached for the pile and began leafing through it.

"It's your standard non-disclosure agreement, but I really don't have time to sit here and wait for you to read it all. So what is it going to be, Ally? Waiting tables or doing something a lot more interesting?"

"How do you know about that?" Ally asked, almost dropping the papers on the floor. She had not told anyone about her plans to apply for the waitressing job.

"That and many other fascinating things is what you'll learn if you get a job here. Are you in?"

Ally looked at the stack of papers on her lap. In the back of her mind she remembered something she'd heard a lawyer say on a TV show: uninformed consent. Of course it wasn't a real lawyer, but only an actor playing a lawyer, but she hoped that the show's producers had done at least some research before putting the thing on the screen. The gist of it was that if someone were forced to sign a document without fully realizing what they were signing, they could then dispute it and claim coercion. So she'd still have a way out. After all, what did she have to lose? Except for the scarce balance in her savings account there wasn't a cent to her name, she didn't have any family members left who could be hurt, and except for Maddie she didn't have any friends. There wasn't much anyone could do to her, not anymore. Without another word, Ally signed the last page at the back of the stack.

"Smart girl." Marion grinned. "Now, as you correctly noted this is the Department of Energy, and our primary focus here is on developments in the areas of engineering and energy. However, this particular division has many different responsibilities, which make our jobs here much more challenging, but also much more interesting."

Ally nodded, thinking that this was the weirdest interview she'd ever had.

"As an agent of this division, you'd be required to gather and analyze data. The means by which you will acquire such data will vary depending on the assignment. If hired, you will undergo a training program that will hone your social and technical skills to give you the tools that you'll need to successfully complete your assignments. The starting salary is one hundred thousand dollars per year. For the first three months you will have to reside in the training facility, after which a permanent residence will be provided to you by the agency. It goes without saying that the nature of this job is highly confidential and you are not to disclose it to anyone."

"What exactly is the nature of this job?" Ally asked. Her heart was pounding: a salary of one hundred thousand dollars! Still, she had to know what it was that she'd be signing up for.

"Intelligence gathering. Don't look so surprised, Ally. Of course this isn't the CIA or FBI, but with your education background you should know that energy is one of the most vital resources of today's age. It could be used as a weapon, it could be used to overthrow governments, and it could be used as a control mechanism. These threats are ever more present in today's age of innovation where new sources of energy are constantly being discovered. Imagine having a new source of electricity that would cut production costs in half."

"Wouldn't that be wonderful?" Ally blurted out without thinking. "Isn't that what everyone wants—cheaper energy and more of it?"

"Yes, but think about what such a discovery could do to the economy if it falls into the wrong hands. Stocks of existing electricity companies would plummet overnight, millions of jobs would be lost. It could lead to a financial crash."

"So are you saying that progress is bad?"

"Come on, Ally, you're smarter than that. I'm not saying that at all. I'm saying that it should be monitored, and that's just one of the many jobs that we do here. Don't look so scared. We are not here to hinder progress or innovation, but we are here to make sure that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands or gets misused. And that's where we come in. Our job is to ensure the safety of our citizens, and in some cases that of the world."

Ally nodded. Everything that Marion had said made sense. Yes, it sounded patronizing, but if such an organization existed wouldn't it be better to be a part of it as opposed to being unknowingly controlled by it? Ally knew that she preferred the former. She had envisioned her future job to be spent in a research lab, but now she was being given a chance to do undercover work—who knew that engineers could lead such exciting lives? This was simply too good to be true. "And when will the decision be made?"

Marion crossed her slender arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair, giving Ally a once over. "The decision has already been made. Should you accept the offer, you will have a place in our training program. You will be compensated at your salary rate for the duration of the training, which will be three months. Your offer is subject to the successful completion of the training program. Training starts Monday."

"I accept," Ally blurted out. She was in no position to play hard to get. There was a long list of reasons why accepting this somewhat bizarre offer of employment made sense, but the most important reason of all was something that she was not going to disclose to anyone. If this agency were indeed as powerful as Marion claimed, it had to have major resources, and Ally planned to use those resources to hunt down whoever it was that had brought about her father's demise. For even though she didn't have any proof, she was convinced that Roberts Enterprises was not guilty of Pollux plants' breakdowns, and despite the fact that the lawyers wouldn't listen to her and she never got to present her view to the court, she had promised herself she would clear her father's name.

A knowing smile appeared on Marion's lips. "I knew you'd be perfect for the job from the get-go. Welcome aboard, Ally." Marion slid a manila folder across the desk. "You will find orientation details in there. You are to report to this building at eight a.m. on Monday. Gladys will provide you with the rest of the details. I expect you to do well in your training." Marion rose from her chair and extended her hand to Ally, making it clear that their meeting was over.

"Thank you, Marion. If I may, just one more question."

Marion's eyebrows rose, indicating that she was not used to people not following her lead. "Yes?"

"How did you know about the waitressing job? And how is it that you had a copy of my résumé printed on the exact same stationery as I have at home? And how did you get my résumé in the first place? I don't exactly remember applying for this job."

For a moment that felt like an eternity Marion remained silent, her gaze focused on Ally, and Ally worried that she might have gone too far. After all, she was in no position to call the shots. Then a bemused expression appeared on Marion's face, and Ally knew she was safe. "That's three questions. I expect you to demonstrate similar acumen in your training, Ally. I'm not in the habit of answering questions from new recruits, but I'll make an exception this once. Our recruiters saw you shopping at Staples for résumé stationery paper, and I thought the stationery would add a nice touch to our meeting. The same recruiters saw you ogle the waitressing ad. What a waste that would've been! And as for your résumé, let's just say I have my sources. Top brass at defense contractors may be imbeciles, but I wasn't about to miss out on a great candidate when I saw one. Have I answered your questions? And in case you're wondering, we know all about your background, and it doesn't worry the agency. In fact, we think it will prove to be an asset."

"Yes, Marion. Thank you." Ally got up to take her leave. To say that what she had just heard felt surreal would be an understatement of gigantic proportions.

"And Ally, one more thing," Marion called out, just as Ally was about to open the door. "It goes without saying that all resources that will become accessible to you through the agency are only to be used for your job function here and not for personal use. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, Marion."

Marion nodded with approval. "Good luck in your training, Ms. Roberts."

Your spies may trail me on the street, Ally thought as she exited Marion's office, but they can't read my thoughts and you won't be able to stop me from finding the bastards who killed my father. For while the official cause of her father's death was heart failure, Ally knew that it was murder. Her father had been killed by the shame and humiliation that had been inflicted on him, and she was determined to track down her father's murderers.

# Chapter 8

Back at the apartment Ally paced the floor, her mind feverishly trying to make sense of the incredible events that had taken place earlier in the day. It was too unbelievable to be true, and yet it had happened. Next Monday she would be starting a whole new life. Gladys had given her all the instructions. Ally was provided with a storage address that would keep her belongings while she was in training. Afterwards her possessions would be relocated to her new apartment that would be procured by her new employer, provided, of course, that Ally successfully completed the training. Of the latter Ally had no doubts: she had graduated from Duke with a double major in engineering and physics. How hard could on-the-job training be? She was going to ace it. She had no choice but to ace it.

She was not to tell anyone about her new job or where she would be going for training; the latter part wouldn't be hard since she had no idea where this training facility was. She was given a name of a cover entity she was to list as her employer instead. All she knew was that on Monday morning she had to report to the same building where she'd met with Marion earlier today. Ally had less than a week to prepare for the training and her new life.

Ally was thinking about how she was going to break the news to Maddie. Maddie had been Ally's rock during this extremely difficult time, and Ally felt like a traitor, bailing out on her friend on such short notice. But at the same time Ally knew that she couldn't depend on Maddie forever. At least now she'd have a job, and Maddie would no longer have to foot the rent and the food bills.

Ally was surprised by the sound of the front door lock being opened. It was only three p.m., way too early for Maddie to be back from work.

"Hi, there! I didn't think you'd be home," Maddie said, kicking off her shoes.

"You're home early," Ally remarked, thinking of how best to break the news to her friend.

"I've got some news," Maddie said.

"Me too."

"You go first," Maddie said.

"No, you go," Ally stalled. The problem with her news was that she couldn't exactly reveal it to Maddie.

"Skip proposed," said Maddie, looking away.

"Did you say yes?"

"Yes." Maddie held up her left hand, which was adorned by an enormous diamond.

"Congratulations! I'm so happy for you, Maddie!" Ally hugged her friend with relief. This was going to make telling her news so much easier.

"Really? Because you know that this means that I'm moving to Boston," Maddie said guiltily.

"I know, and I couldn't be happier for you if you're sure that Skip is the one." Skip Prendergast had been Maddie's high school sweetheart. They had dated on and off during the first and second year of college, after which Maddie had broken it off, claiming that a long distance relationship wasn't for her (Skip had gone to Princeton), and that she was ready to see other people. Just like the Graystones, Skip's family was based in Boston. His father owned an investment advisory firm. Mr. Prendergast had gone to college with Mr. Graystone and they played golf together almost every weekend. It was Mr. and Mrs. Graystone's dream to see Skip and Maddie married, which Maddie spurned with vehement determination. Yet somehow despite the numerous exotic boyfriends that Maddie had had since, which included a guitar player of some obscure punk band, a starving artist, and a poet, Maddie would mention Skip occasionally. The two of them continued to run into each other at family functions, and even after Maddie had insisted that it was over between them, Skip asked that they remain friends and would meet her for lunch occasionally. Despite the fact that Maddie's mentions of Skip were filled with ridicule of her mother's marriage plans for her, Ally often wondered if Maddie was really as indifferent about Skip as she claimed to be. Ally had only met Skip a few times, but she had liked him right away. He had light brown hair, intelligent gray eyes, and was well-built, but most of all Ally liked the way Skip's eyes lit up every time he looked at Maddie. Personally, Ally thought that they looked great as a couple.

"You know, I think he is." Maddie smiled. "But please don't think that I'm saying it because I failed in New York."

"Who says you failed? Just because you finally admitted your feelings for the guy you loved since high school doesn't mean you failed—"

"I got fired today. That's why I'm home early," Maddie groaned. "I'm a total and complete failure!"

"That's a load of crap," Ally snapped. From what Maddie had told her about her job, it was a complete nightmare. The hours were long and the assignments tedious, most of which included running errands for more senior staff. Maddie had dreamed of working with creative free spirits, but instead she was faced with the reality of a highly political office atmosphere filled with huge egos, cutthroat competition, and veiled insecurities. And then there were the financial hardships. As someone who had always led a sheltered life, Maddie found the reality of living on a fixed income trying to say the least. While planning her life in New York, Maddie had assumed that her trust income would continue to supplement her starting graphic designer salary, but Mr. and Mrs. Graystone clearly had other plans, cutting Maddie's allowance.

"I finally got an account, and after I was finished with the first round of design, they gave it to another designer. She just finished her graphic, which was a complete rip-off of my idea. When I went to see my boss—excuse me, my ex-boss—about it, she told me that if I wasn't going to collaborate, I was welcome to look for a job elsewhere. So I told her that she could take her collaboration and shove it."

"So you see, you didn't get fired!" Ally cheered her friend. "You quit."

"No, I got fired. My boss—excuse me, my ex-boss—told me so, the witch. After all the crap I took from her. I have one little blow-up and she just fires me! Serves me right for being such a pushover. The only reason I had the guts to stand up to her in the first place was because I'd met Skip for lunch. He'd come down to New York and he asked me to meet him. I didn't want to tell you about it. Anyway, we meet at this French café in SoHo, nothing fancy or anything, and he tells me over the onion soup that it's time we stopped playing games. I asked him what he meant by that, and he said that cutting off one's nose to spite somebody didn't make sense. I said 'Huh?' So he just smiled and pushed this small velvet box across the table and told me to open it. I tell you, Ally, my heart just started fluttering because deep down I knew what was going to be inside that box. So I opened it and took the ring out. 'Will you be my wife, Maddie?' he asked me, and I said yes."

"Oh, Maddie! That's so romantic!"

Maddie shook her head. "No, it isn't. It's not romantic at all. It's practical and sensible, just the way Skip is. I used to think it was boring, but now I've finally realized that that's exactly what I need. I guess I had to date all those creeps to find that out. I was an idiot, Ally. I used to be ashamed of the fact that I came from a family with money. I thought that in order to prove myself I had to make it on my own. That poet guy I dated, he claimed to only care about art, but he dumped me the minute he learned that I was on the outs with my parents." Maddie sighed. "The point that I'm trying to make is that I've always liked Skip, but I didn't want to be with him to please my parents. It took me all this time to realize that it doesn't matter. I'm going to be with him because _I_ want it, not because of what my parents think. Of course they'll probably think that I said yes to Skip because they'd cut off my trust fund, but I really don't give a hoot. They can think whatever they want. They may control Ron, but they'll never control me. Oh, I'm so sorry, Ally! I didn't mean to bring him up. I'm such a blabbermouth."

"It's okay, Maddie. Don't worry about it," Ally said. Hearing Ron's name still hurt, but she wasn't going to admit it. It was unbelievable how quickly Ron had disappeared from her life. After she had given him back the engagement ring, he had been intent on winning her back, assuring her that nothing would change between them. They had spent an awkward week at Duke leading up to graduation. Mr. and Mrs. Graystone had been there too, and the four of them had several more awkward dinners. Viola had even gone so far as to apologize to Ally. After graduation Ally and Maddie left for New York, and Ron went to Boston to intern at his father's law firm; he was supposed to start law school in the fall. He had promised to visit often, but every weekend he had tried to come up had ended in a cancellation, as he'd been too busy at work. Slowly, Ron's phone calls began to grow further and further apart, until they stopped completely. Of course she could've called him herself, could have pleaded with him to take her back, apologized to Viola, and eaten humble pie. But Ally wasn't going to do that. Not because of her pride, but because it hurt too much to know that Ron didn't love her, not enough to fight for her. Maddie had been furious with her brother, and despite Ally's attempts to stop her, insisted on yelling at him over the phone and telling him that he was an idiot. Ally was mortified, but she needn't have worried: Viola Graystone's grip on her son was too firm for anyone to loosen it. Later on Ally learned from Maddie that Ron had reunited with Annette Beale, the very same girlfriend who had cheated on him while she was away at college, but now that she was back in Boston past transgressions were forgotten.

"Can you believe that I'm going to change my last name to Prendergast? Madeline Prendergast sounds so high and mighty, like some uptight matron from a PBS channel drama."

"No more so than Madeline Graystone," Ally teased her. "You don't have to change your name if you don't want to, you know. It's the twenty-first century. I'm sure Skip would be okay with it."

Maddie grinned. "I'm pretty sure he would be, and I bet it'd tick off my mother. I think I might just do that. Oh, I'm so excited, Ally. I didn't think I would be, but I am. Skip wants a quick wedding—we're thinking about eloping. Mother is going to have a fit! You're going to help me pick out the dress, aren't you? It'll have to be something stylish and practical, so that I could pack it with me on the plane. Oh, and I almost forgot—and I won't take no for an answer—the apartment is paid off until the end of the year, and I'm going to reassign the lease to you. It's the least I could do. I feel so guilty dumping my friend at a moment's notice."

Ally gulped. Of all the people in her life—and there had been many prior to her misfortune—Maddie was the only one who had stuck by her side. And now she couldn't even tell her the truth about her life-changing news. She didn't deserve to be Maddie's friend.

"Oh, Ally, please don't cry! Things will work out! You'll get a job soon, and you'll meet a great guy—someone who will love you and fight for you, not like my bum of a brother."

Ally shook her head, smiling. Maddie was so sweet. "It's not that. I'm so grateful to you Maddie, for everything, and I'm so happy for you. I'm afraid I won't be able to accept your gift though—"

"Ally! I told you I won't hear of it!"

"It's just that I've got a job and I'll be moving too," Ally blurted out before thinking it through.

"You did? What job? When? Where?"

"This morning. It's for a small consulting firm out in California." Ally gave the company name that the agency instructed her to use for cover. "They also have a small office in New York," Ally lied, surprised by how effortlessly the words were rolling off her tongue. "I'm supposed to start training on Monday."

"That's great news! I'm so happy for you! We'd better start packing then. We've got a lot of work to do." Maddie drew Ally into a long hug. "California is so far away. Promise that we'll keep in touch!" She hugged Ally again.

"I'll try, Maddie," Ally whispered. After all, this wasn't a complete lie. She meant every word, but whether she'd be able to keep it wasn't entirely up to her. "What are you going to do about the apartment?" Ally asked, feeling guilty.

"One of the girls at the office was looking for an apartment after breaking up with her boyfriend, so I'll sublet it to her. And if she doesn't want it, I'll find someone else. This is New York City. People are always looking for apartments in New York. But right now I don't want to talk about that. I want to celebrate the beginning of our new lives!" Maddie rushed into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. "I snuck this into the fridge last night." She grinned. "I had a feeling that Skip might pop the question, but I had no idea that we'd be celebrating your good news too!" Maddie popped the cork and poured the champagne. "Here's to the rest of our lives!"

"To the rest of our lives," Ally repeated, raising the glass to her lips. She didn't stop drinking until the glass was empty. To her this toast had a different meaning. She was saying goodbye to everything she knew, everything except for one thing: the memory of her father's name. The beginning of her new life would have to wait until his name was cleared.

# Chapter 9

On Monday morning Ally entered the lobby of the same building where she had met with Marion Phillips a week ago. Just as she had been instructed, Ally was dressed casually in a pair of jeans, a short-sleeved top, and a pair of rubber-soled shoes. With her she had a suitcase in which she had packed enough clothes to last her for the duration of the training. The rest of her possessions had been packed in boxes and shipped off to the storage facility that Gladys had told Ally to use.

After checking in with the front desk security, Ally was told to leave her suitcase with security and proceed upstairs to the same floor where she had interviewed with Marion. As Ally left her suitcase in the assigned spot, she noticed that there were several suitcases there already and wondered if those belonged to other members of the training program. It made sense, but up until now she hadn't thought that there would be other people in the program. What if the agency would make them compete for the same job spot, eliminating them one by one? Ally squared her shoulders. No one was going to edge her out of this program.

Once she arrived at the designated floor, Ally was greeted by Gladys Moon.

"Good morning, Ally," Gladys said, checking off something on the clipboard she was holding. "Please proceed to conference room A for the orientation."

Ally nodded and did as she was told. At least Gladys had remembered Ally's name.

Inside conference room A there was already a group of thirteen people assembled, seated alongside an oblong mahogany table. As Ally made her way to take one of the two remaining empty seats, she was conscious of silent stares burrowing into her. She could sense competition in the air, but she refused to let it bother her. She wasn't there to make friends.

At exactly eight a.m. Marion Phillips entered the room and made her way to the front, her heels making no sound on the carpeted floor. For several moments she stood silently observing the group. Just as the first time when Ally had seen her, Marion looked stunning. Today she was dressed in a caramel-colored suit with a pencil skirt that hugged her hips tightly, her long legs made even longer by black stiletto heels. Marion was several decades older than all the women in the room, but this morning she put them all to shame. Ally wondered if looking the part of a femme fatale was going to be covered at the training.

"Good morning," Marion said brightly. "I am delighted to welcome you all to our training program. Congratulations on making the first cut. You have all gone through a rigorous selection process and you were all admitted to the program based on the qualities that you have to offer. That being said, do not take your being here for granted. The next three months will not be easy, and only those of you who are truly qualified to be a part of this agency will make the cut—"

Just then Marion was interrupted by the sound of the door being opened. A girl of about Ally's age entered the room. A mane of curly red hair ran down her shoulders. She was wearing a short-sleeved shirt tied right under her ribs that exposed her flat, ripped stomach and very short jeans shorts. Her long legs were clad in knee-high boots—an impractical choice of footwear given the smoldering summer heat, but undeniably a sexy one. The girl seemed to be genuinely unaware of the admiring male glances and the jealous female ones, as she nonchalantly made her way past Marion and settled in the last remaining seat next to Ally.

"Sorry I'm late, everyone," the girl said. "My name is Delilah," she added, flashing a wide grin.

"Nice to meet you, Delilah. I'm Ally." Ally smiled, feeling that the redhead could use a friendly gesture with all the cold stares in the room.

"Introductions will come later," Marion said curtly. "As I was saying, only a few of you"—she eyed Delilah pointedly—"will make the cut. During the next three months you will acquire skills that are not taught at any school. You will learn how to extract information and how to analyze it. You will learn to make alliances and you will learn to defeat your competition. Most importantly, you will learn what it takes to be a great agent, an asset to this organization, which is the reason why you are all here in this room today. In a few minutes you will be boarding transportation which will take you to the training facility. You are not to disclose the location of the facility to anyone—as you have been told, all personal communication devices are prohibited within the training facility. Violation of the rules will results in termination from the program. This is your chance to be a part of something great, something that truly matters." Marion paused, eyeing the group, her eyes lingering on each person for a few terrifying moments. "Any last-minute doubts? You'll save everyone a lot of trouble if you bow out now."

Ally could hear Delilah squirming in her seat, hastily untying her shirt tails to cover her stomach.

"Good luck to you all," Marion said. "I hope to see all of you in three months. Mr. O'Brian will take it from here," Marion added, nodding toward an average-height man who had seemed to materialize out of thin air and was now standing next to her. No one had seen or heard him enter the room.

"Good morning, recruits. My name is Frederick O'Brian and I'll be accompanying you to the training compound, which is located in Connecticut. Now if you will all follow me, we will proceed to the garage where a bus is awaiting you."

***

With a look of consternation on his face, Jake Morrissey watched a bus, that he knew was transporting the new recruits, enter the training compound. Never in his wildest dreams—or nightmares for that matter—had he imagined that he would become an instructor at the agency's training facility. It seemed that only yesterday he had been a young recruit eagerly arriving at the training compound; but seem as it might, it had been almost nine years ago. At times it felt surreal that he would be turning thirty this year. Thirty was supposed to be the age at which a man could measure his accomplishments, an age by which a man was meant to lay down the foundation for the rest of his life. At least that was what his father had always told him, but now that Jake was nearing the milestone age, he didn't feel anything of the kind. So it left only two possibilities: either his father had been mistaken, or Jake was a failure. And lately, Jake had been inclined to lean toward the latter.

"Ready for your first class, Jakie?" Ryan Waters teased him.

"I'd like to hope so, Mr. Waters." Ryan Waters had been a training instructor for the agency for almost thirty years. He had been Jake's instructor when Jake had first arrived at the training compound and had taught Jake everything he knew. Unfortunately, Jake hadn't been a good enough student.

"You know, you can call me Ryan." Waters grinned. "You're one of us now."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Mr. Waters. I'm still earning my stripes," Jake quipped. He looked at the folders of recruit files on his desk. He had studied each and every one of them with obsessive detail. If he were going to be an instructor, he was going to give it his all, however little that might be.

"You'd better hurry up about it. I'm not teaching anymore. I've been made director of training and now my duties are administrative only. No more classrooms, thank you very much. I'm passing the torch to you, kid."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Waters chuckled. "First day jitters? Wish I could remember that day. Feels like I've been here forever." Waters shook his head, eyeing the folders on Jake's desk. "You might as well chuck those. You of all people don't need a personnel file to get a read on a person, Jake. It was always one of your strongest skills, among your other talents. I never told you this, but you were one of my favorite students. I guess as they say it's better late than never." Waters winked.

"Thank you, sir. I hope I'll be as good at passing these skills as you say I was good at learning them."

"Not just learning, Jake, but using them too. You were a damn good agent, and still are."

"I appreciate that, sir," Jake said quietly. He really didn't feel like he deserved Waters' praise, but Jake couldn't deny that it was nice to hear.

"Remember, you're the boss. Oh, I almost forgot." He paused to place an apple on Jake's desk. "This is for you. Happy first day of school."

"Thanks, boss. I think a bottle of scotch would've been handier. I could use a drink to steady my nerves," Jake admitted.

"Nah, you'll do fine. Better than fine. Just don't let them see your fear—they can sense it, like dogs." Waters chuckled as he slapped Jake on the shoulder and walked out the door.

"Thanks a lot," Jake muttered and bit into the apple in an effort to distract himself from his impending doom.

If he'd known he'd be this nervous about facing a group of fresh recruits, he'd never have signed up for the job. He didn't remember being this nervous before his first assignment, but then it had been a long time ago. Maybe he should've been more nervous then. Instead he'd been confident of his skills, which in hindsight seemed minimal, but back then he'd thought differently and he'd aced his first assignment and every single one after that, until the last one. The one that had gone bad: the one that was the reason why he was about to face a class of green recruits. Even though his name was cleared, in his mind he'd botched the job, and he simply couldn't face going back into the field again. So it was between becoming another administrative bureaucrat at the agency or becoming a training instructor. Jake chose the latter. His father would have preferred him to choose the former, but Jake was well past the age of pleasing his father, and his father was no longer there to express his disappointment.

Jake turned his attention back to the recruit files. Inside each folder were details ranging from each individual's height and weight to their academic performance, even their favorite color. The old Jake Morrissey would've relied on his people reading skills, which Waters had so generously praised, but the new Jake Morrissey, or at least the Jake Morrissey that Jake was intent on becoming, was going to do his homework. In all there were fifteen recruits; a smaller crop than usual, but then these days there weren't too many college graduates eager to work for the agency. The past few years had seen an explosion in the energy industry, and most graduates opted for jobs with oil, gas, or engineering firms. And then it wasn't as though the agency openly advertised its positions; it was very covert and somewhat unorthodox in its search for potential candidates.

The agency had a recruiting team, but Marion personally interviewed and approved each candidate for the training program. She'd been the one to interview Jake as well. The interview had only lasted fifteen minutes, and he was surprised at the end of it to hear that he'd made the program. In fact, he was a little disappointed. His plan had been to head to Calgary to work for his uncle at an oil refinery. Not because he was particularly excited about the job, but because he loved the beautiful views and vast, open space he remembered from his childhood vacations. His uncle was a foreman at a local oil refinery there and he'd secretly promised a job to Jake, who as the son of a Canadian citizen, had dual citizenship. If Jake's father had known about this secret pact he would've been furious: he'd worked so hard to escape the exact fate that Jake was hungering after. But as it had turned out, Jake's father had gotten his way after all. At least it had looked that way until Jake screwed it all up.

Jake flipped through the folders again. The majority were the usual suspects: career recruits, as Jake called them. These were graduates of the leading engineering schools who had excellent GPAs, numerous extracurricular activities, and impressive internships. They could have had their pick of jobs, but they chose the agency, and it was easy for Jake to guess why: political ambition. The agency could be the perfect springboard for a political career if one played one's cards right. This was something his father had said when he'd secured Jake an interview at the agency right after his college graduation. If only Jake had listened to his old man and had gone after a desk job at the agency. Instead he'd wowed his instructors during training and scored high on all the skills required for fieldwork. His college GPA was just above average; he'd never been too keen on studying, but he was great at reading people and getting information out of them. He was also a pretty good shot and could hold his own in hand-to-hand combat. Most would never guess, but being a field agent for an undercover division of the Department of Energy required all the skills that Jake was good at. His glory days were behind him though. Now his job was to pass his skills on to the new recruits. Suddenly he was surprised to find himself pondering which of his new students would succeed the most; the fact that he could influence the outcome intrigued him. Perhaps this teaching gig wasn't going to be as bad as he had thought.

Jake shook his head. If he were not careful, reminisces and regrets could swallow up the whole day. Hell, he had enough of both to swallow up years. He checked his watch; it was time to greet the new recruits.

# Chapter 10

Ally stepped off the bus and surveyed her surroundings. From watching the highway signs during the drive she knew that they were at the far end of Connecticut. The parking lot was surrounded with lush greenery. Several low-slung buildings comprised the compound: this could've been a bed and breakfast or a camping facility, but it wasn't.

One by one the recruits filed out of the bus, breaking into small cliques that had formed during the bus ride. Their luggage had been unloaded next to the bus, but no one touched theirs, awaiting further instructions. Ally stood aloof, hoping that she wasn't looking like an outcast. First impressions were important, and she was keenly aware that she wasn't exactly succeeding in that department. Heather Darlington, the girl who had sat next to Ally during the bus ride, had ignored Ally the entire time, chatting instead with the two guys who sat across the aisle. Ally could have tried to join in, but she chose to spend the ride looking out the window instead. She wasn't here to make friends anyway.

From overhearing bits and pieces of conversation during the drive, Ally had learned that most of the recruits had backgrounds similar to her own. They too had graduated from top schools and had excellent GPAs. However there was one major difference: unlike her they hadn't had their family's legacy destroyed and their name dragged through the mud. And, most importantly, from the confident and almost cocky manner in which they conducted themselves, she intuited that none of them were orphans. Orphan. It felt surreal to think that this terrifying word now described her, but it did and she had to toughen up and accept it.

"Good morning, team." A deep male voice brought them all to attention. "Welcome. I am Jake Morrissey and you may address me as Instructor Morrissey. I will be one of your instructors during your stay here."

Ally focused her attention on the speaker. He wasn't anything she expected a training instructor to be. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. Six feet tall, with his muscular and trim body, he looked more like a model for GQ Magazine than a training instructor for an undercover agency. Not that Ally cared: as far as she was concerned she was off men indefinitely.

"Real work will begin tomorrow," Morrissey continued. "You will have a busy schedule, so I suggest you use today to get settled and organized. As I call out your name, come up front to pick up your room assignment and orientation package."

One by one Ally's teammates were called. Jake shook their hands and handed them their assignment folders.

"Allyson Roberts."

At the sound of her name Ally felt her knees tremble. She braced herself and walked towards Morrissey in what she hoped was a steady step.

"Welcome aboard, Allyson," Jake Morrissey greeted her with an extended hand.

"Ally, everyone calls me Ally," Ally blurted out as Jake's warm, firm hand closed around hers.

A faint smile appeared on his lips. "Glad to have you aboard, Ally," he said, his gray eyes locking with hers for one electrifying moment. "You're in building C," he added matter-of-factly.

"Thanks." Ally grabbed the folder from him and hurried after the rest of the recruits. She could feel her face burning. Everyone calls me Ally? What the hell was she thinking? This wasn't everyone, for crying out loud. This was her training instructor.

Once she reached her building, Ally walked up the flight of stairs leading to her floor and headed down the corridor to her assigned room. She swiped the electronic key she found inside the folder. After hearing the click of the lock mechanism, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. It looked just like a dorm room: gray carpet, two twin beds, a chest of drawers, two computer desks on either side of the room, and a small stand with a coffee maker on it.

There was a light rapping on the door. Ally turned around and saw the redhead who had been the last to arrive at the training. Her name was as striking as her looks: Delilah.

"Hi! It's Ally, right?"

Ally nodded. "Yes. And you're Delilah. I remember."

"I'm so glad we're going to be roommates!" Delilah exclaimed, dropping her bag to the floor. "The rest of the people in this place are so full of themselves. I tried talking to my neighbor on the bus, the guy with the glasses—Chip Gaffney is his name. All I got back were yes and no answers. The guy must think he's too blueblood to talk to the likes of me."

"Maybe he's just shy," Ally offered, reluctant to form opinions on her first day.

"I doubt it. I can tell a blueblood when I see one."

"How?" Ally asked, wondering if in her previous life she had qualified as a blueblood. Probably not. Her father had made his own fortune, so she wouldn't have qualified. But Ron definitely fit the bill. Come to think of it, Ron looked a lot like Chip. Ron was much better looking, but he had the same bearing and the same quiet, overly polite demeanor. Delilah probably wouldn't like Ron either, not that it mattered. Ron was history and it was time to stop thinking about him.

"Oh, there are ways," Delilah replied vaguely. "So, how about we unpack?" She turned to examine the room. "I must say, when they said that the accommodations would be basic, they meant it." Her glance fell on the chest of drawers. "You've got to be kidding me! Only one chest of drawers?"

"You can have an extra drawer if you'd like," Ally offered. She had packed a simple wardrobe of jeans, khakis and no-frill knit tops, figuring that a fancy wardrobe wasn't going to score her any extra points at this place. In fact, it would probably do the opposite.

"Thanks, but that wouldn't be right. There are four drawers, so we each get two," said Delilah. "I guess we'd better get to it then. That Morrissey guy said that today was our day to get organized. Everyone is so uptight here." Delilah sighed. "At least that Jake Morrissey guy is pretty hot, don't you think?"

"I don't think we're supposed to think about him in those terms since he's going to be our instructor," Ally countered, feeling like a complete hypocrite. Jake Morrissey was incredibly hot, but if she were going to succeed in this program, she couldn't afford to be distracted.

"Oh, please, don't deny it. I saw the way you looked at him."

"What? How did I look at him?"

"You know, girl in awe kind of look. Calm down—just because I picked up on it doesn't mean that everyone else did. I've got an eye for that sort of thing."

"If you say so." Ally shrugged, opening her suitcase. She began to place her clothes into one of the drawers. Talking about Jake Morrissey was the last thing she needed right now. She was going to unpack quickly, read through the orientation folder, and go to bed early for a fresh start tomorrow.

"How about a drink?" Delilah held up a quart of tequila. "It's a shame we don't have any limes."

"How did you get that in here? They said alcohol isn't allowed. What if someone sees us?"

"There are ways. There are always ways." Delilah grinned and took a swig. She offered the bottle to Ally. "Here, it'll calm your nerves."

# Chapter 11

Ally shot up in bed at the loud sound of the alarm clock. She had a blasting headache and for a moment she couldn't remember where she was. Then it all came back to her: she was at the agency training facility and today was the first day of the training. Instead of following through with her intention of going to bed early, she had stayed up last night drinking tequila with her roommate. Ally glanced at the twin bed across from hers. Delilah's arm was dangling off the bed and her head was planted on the pillow, her half-open mouth making snoring noises while bits of saliva dribbled out of the corner.

"Wake up, Delilah!" Ally called over her shoulder as she made her way to the shower.

She ran the water and stood under the ice-cold spray, forcing herself not to flinch. After about a minute she switched the water to hot and then back to cold. After about ten minutes of this she was feeling like herself again. She toweled off, brushed her teeth, and hurried to get dressed. Back in the room she saw that Delilah was still in bed.

"Time to get up!" Ally shook Delilah's shoulder while simultaneously reaching for the hair dryer.

"What time is it?" Delilah groaned.

"Almost seven thirty. Our first class starts at eight. You don't want to be late on your first day." Ally turned on the hair dryer.

"As if I care. Turn off that thing!" Delilah grimaced at the noise, but Ally ignored her. Delilah swung her legs over the bed's edge. "They didn't tell me that getting up this early was part of the deal." Shakily she began to make her way to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later Ally and Delilah were rushing down the stairs. Ally quickly examined their schedule. Their first class of the day was located in building A. From the map that had been included with the schedule, Ally understood building A to be on the opposite side of the compound from their dorm.

"Coffee. I need coffee and breakfast," Delilah mumbled through a yawn.

"There's no time. The cafeteria is out of the way. We won't make it," Ally replied sensibly. "Chew on this," she added, offering Delilah a stick of gum.

Delilah pushed Ally's arm away. "No thanks. I don't know about you, but I'm getting breakfast."

Ally was about to refuse, but a sudden wave of nausea made her reconsider. A cup of coffee would be nice, and if they walked really fast they could make it in time.

A few moments later Ally and Delilah entered the cafeteria. On their way in they were shoved aside by three recruits who were on their way out.

"Watch where you're going!" Delilah hissed.

"I'm sure they just didn't see us," Ally said, trying to soothe her combative roommate.

"Yeah, right." Delilah made a beeline to the buffet. The skillets with bacon and eggs were all cleaned out, leaving them with only a choice of oatmeal or cottage cheese.

"Couldn't we order something to go?" Delilah asked.

"I don't think so. Let's just get some coffee and go." Ally hurried to the coffee station and started to pour two cups of coffee. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a dish with muffins and felt her stomach grumble.

"I'll grab us a couple of those," Delilah said, following Ally's gaze.

"Allyson, Delilah, good morning." A male voice sent shivers down Ally's back.

"Instructor Morrissey, good morning." Ally smiled, gripping the two cups of coffee so tightly she worried the contents might spill over.

"I see you have your hands full, Ms. Roberts," Morrissey remarked. He checked his watch. "As I recall the first class starts in precisely three minutes. A word of advice: Instructor Reed doesn't approve of tardiness."

"Oh," Ally blundered, unable to think of anything intelligent to say.

"Come on, Ally. Let's get moving!" Delilah tugged at Ally's sleeve. "Thanks for the tip, Instructor Morrissey."

***

Jake Morrissey suppressed a smile as he watched the two women rush out of the cafeteria. He hoped they were going to make it to class on time. Even though it had been what felt like an eternity ago, he still remembered with crisp freshness the way Instructor Reed had chastised Jake on his first day when he had made the mistake of being late for Reed's class. As a recruit, Jake used to hate the man, and now they were colleagues. Not that Reed had gotten any friendlier because of it. "Those who can't do, teach," Reed had jeered when Jake had arrived at the compound in his new capacity. "I thought teaching was the real thing?" Jake had replied good-naturedly. He knew only too well the cause of Reed's remark, and in a way Jake was flattered that Reed had remembered their altercation from all those years ago when, as a fresh recruit, Jake had lost his temper and spat the very same phrase in Reed's face. If Reed had reported him, Jake was sure he would've been discharged from the program. Thankfully the conversation had taken place without any witnesses. For whatever reason Reed had held his peace, which made him a decent man in Jake's eyes after all. The fact that Reed had made Jake's life hell while the training lasted came with the territory.

Jake's thoughts drifted back to the two young women. Allyson Roberts and Delilah Jones—what an odd pair. He wondered about the reasons these two were assigned as roommates. There were no random variables. Every aspect of the training program, from room assignments to training course content, had a deliberate purpose. He was curious to see how these two were going to do in the program. From what he had gathered from their files, both women had valuable skills, albeit in different areas. He had no doubt that Allyson Roberts would ace the theory part of the training: her GPA score and internship experience proved that she had excellent knowledge of the energy industry. However, substantive knowledge wasn't enough to succeed in the program, and Jake wasn't sure that she had what it took to succeed in the behavioral skills part of the program. Delilah Jones, on the other hand, would have no problems with that part. She didn't have a degree in engineering or physics, but she had what could easily be called the equivalent of a doctorate in human psyche, specifically male psyche. She hadn't obtained this knowledge from a university, but the education she'd received from the school of life could rival that of any top school. Perhaps these two could help one another after all, Jake thought. Ally was shy—

He instantly cut off his trail of thought. To him she was Allyson Roberts, just another recruit in a group of fifteen candidates, who either was or was not going to make it through the next three months. It was only natural for an instructor to assess a student's strengths and weaknesses, so he was simply doing his job. At least that was what he desperately wanted to believe. Of course he knew that he was being a hypocrite; he would be a liar if he didn't admit that Allyson Roberts had commanded his attention the minute she stepped off the bus. And it wasn't just her looks. There were plenty of good-looking, smart women in the program, but Ally stood apart from all of them. It was the way she carried herself: she seemed so vulnerable, making a man want to take care of her. Jake shook his head. If he weren't in a public place, he would've slapped himself. Vulnerable? Making a man want to take care of her? What the hell had gotten into him? His second day on the job and he was already messing it up. Of course Allyson Roberts seemed vulnerable; he had read her file and anyone who'd been through what she'd been though would be vulnerable, but it was no concern of his. The only conclusion he would allow himself to make was that Recruit Roberts better toughen up soon, or she wasn't going to make it through the program.

***

"Someone's got a crush on Jake Morrissey," Delilah teased Ally as they zoomed through the hallway of building A.

"I don't have a crush on him!" Ally shot back, picking up her pace. The classroom was only a few steps away. "We're going to be late! I told you there was no time for breakfast."

"Relax! It's only a few minutes." Delilah gobbled another piece of the muffin they'd taken from the cafeteria and shoved the rest into her purse.

Ally took a deep breath as she reached for the classroom door. It was only eight ten; perhaps Instructor Reed was going to let this one slide. She pushed the door open and walked inside with Delilah following her. Instructor Reed was standing at the head of the class, writing something on the board. Hoping that their entrance would go unnoticed, Ally hurried towards the two seats in the back of the class with Delilah following her. Just as the two of them were about to sit down, Instructor Reed turned around.

"I see we have new arrivals," Reed observed. He looked exactly like his name: tall and thin. He had sparse gray hair, which was cropped closely to his head. His eyes were small, but were piercing in their intensity. "Please introduce yourselves to the class."

"Delilah Jones," Delilah announced, sliding into her seat.

"I didn't say you could sit down, Ms. Jones," Reed remarked sharply. "And what is your friend's name?"

From the warmth that suffused her face, Ally knew that her cheeks were now crimson. Oh how she wished she hadn't listened to Delilah this morning, or last night for that matter. "Allyson Roberts," she croaked. "I'm sorry we're late, Instructor Reed. We got lost on our way here."

"The reason for your tardiness does not interest me, Ms. Roberts. I will ask you to be on time for the rest of our classes, or you will learn the hard way that I don't take kindly to tardiness. You may both take your seats now." Reed nodded.

"Jeez, we got the message already," Delilah whispered, plopping into her chair.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Ms. Jones?" Reed asked.

"Not particularly," Delilah muttered under Reed's burrowing stare.

"Well then, perhaps you could start off the discussion of today's topic." Reed pointed at the header on the board: Strategic Energy Suppliers. "Would you be so kind as to name the top ten national energy suppliers?"

Delilah's mouth gaped open as she stared back mutely.

"If I may, Instructor Reed," Ally cut in and gave the answer to the question, listing the major suppliers of energy in the U.S. After all, she knew the list only too well: Roberts Enterprises had done or prospected business with many of these companies over the years.

"Ms. Roberts, the next time you ask whether you may do something it'd be wise to wait for the reply. And as for you, Ms. Jones, it is clear to me that you can't afford not to pay attention in class," Reed's tone was harder than steel. "And as for the rest of you, you should be taking notes—Ms. Roberts' answer was perfectly correct."

Ally ducked her head. The first day had only begun and she was already sweating bullets.

An hour later Reed dismissed the class. Ally rose from her seat and exhaled with relief; she had been burning with humiliation the entire time. With their heads lowered, she and Delilah started making their way for the door.

"Nice going, Ally." Heather Darlington, the girl who'd sat next to Ally on the bus, smirked. "Maybe you should buy a GPS so that you could get to class on time."

From the scowl on Delilah's face, Ally could tell that her roommate was about to snap back. She touched Delilah's arm. Big-mouthed retorts weren't going to make living down their humiliation any easier; in fact, they'd probably make it worse.

"It has been my experience that helping one's peers is a far greater show of character than bullying them, Ms. Darlington." Reed's crisp voice stunned them as his thin figure passed by.

"Classic." Heather rolled her eyes and flipped her hair, shoving past Ally.

"I guess Reed isn't so bad after all," Delilah smiled.

"Yeah, but from now on I'm setting the alarm clock at six a.m." Ally checked the schedule and felt her shoulders sag. The next class was physical education, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd been to the gym.

# Chapter 12

At seven thirty a.m. the next morning, Ally ambled into the cafeteria. Each step was an effort as every muscle in her body was vibrating with piercing pain, courtesy of yesterday's physical education class. She glanced at the skillets with eggs and bacon and felt her stomach turn—the thought of food seemed impossible. What she really wanted was to crawl back in bed and whimper.

"Come on," Delilah urged her. "We'd better eat quickly if we want to make it to class on time."

Ally shook her head. "I think I'll just stick with coffee."

"Not if you want to make it through the day you won't." Delilah began to pile up food on two plates. "Here." She shoved a heaping plate at Ally. "Let's go sit over there." Delilah pointed at empty seats away from the two rows where the majority of the recruits were congregating.

Afraid that her push-up weary arms might fail her, Ally gripped her plate with both hands and followed Delilah to the table.

"How come you're not in any pain?" Ally asked after she had carefully lowered her burning glutes onto the seat.

"I used to do gymnastics at school. I've been through far worse than yesterday," Delilah replied between mouthfuls. "Sure, I'm sore today, but I'm used to the feeling."

"It's a feeling I could definitely do without." Ally picked at the eggs with her fork. "I think I was the worst in the class."

"You weren't the worst," Delilah assured her. "More like in the bottom twenty percent."

"You're being overly generous," Ally sighed.

Ally had never been one to work out consistently. Mostly she left her physical activity to walks and occasional jogs, and lately she hadn't even been doing that as she had more pressing matters on her mind than personal fitness. She figured that as long as she fit into her clothes, she was fine. Unfortunately, phys ed Instructor Matthews thought it was necessary to test their endurance and push it to the limit. They had to run three miles, followed by an insane amount of push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, and squats. Each exercise had a different station, with Matthews timing their performance. Ally had been the last one to arrive at every station, pathetically struggling to complete each exercise under Matthew's cold stare. She was pretty sure she was on his bad list now.

"Is this seat taken?" Doug Cleary, a gangly recruit Ally remembered being almost as bad as herself yesterday asked, looking at the seat next to them.

"By all means," said Delilah.

"Thanks." Doug placed his tray on the table and took a seat. His movements appeared to be as pained as Ally's.

"Yesterday was pretty bad, huh?" Ally asked in a show of support.

"Bad doesn't even begin to describe it. When I got up this morning my legs nearly buckled under me. I thought this place was supposed to train our minds, not torture our bodies. What are they trying to do? Prepare us for the Olympics?"

"Quit being such a crybaby." Delilah waved her hand. "Running three miles and doing twenty push-ups isn't all that bad."

"I'm with Doug," Ally muttered. "And what about all those sit-ups and pull-ups we had to do?" she added. "Of course I couldn't even manage a single pull-up. I saw Matthews mark it in his notebook."

"I wasn't much better than you," Doug chimed in. "I barely managed to do one, and only half-way up. Why couldn't we have a contest on building an operating system or doing spectrographic analysis? I'd like to see Matthews do that."

"I think we're going to do that but in Reed's class," Ally pointed out.

"I still don't get the point of this phys ed crap. They knew what they were getting with me. Do I look like someone with exceptional athletic abilities?" Doug pointed at his skinny chest. "I don't think so. I run laps with my brains, not my legs."

"You'd better shape up, Doug," Delilah teased him. "Or they might just kick your brainy butt out."

"They can certainly do that," Doug countered. "I have no problem working for a research company instead."

"We'd better get a move on if we're going to make it to class on time," Ally interjected. She consulted the schedule and felt her pulse quicken. The first class of the day was Behavioral Skills, taught by Instructor Morrissey.

***

"Good morning, class." Instructor Morrissey's rich deep voice carried all the way to the back of the class without any difficulty.

Ally ducked her head and focused her attention on the plastic desk surface, conscious of Delilah's needling stare. Instructor Morrissey was hot, but Ally would be damned if she would admit it. Hence the choice of her seating: she figured Morrissey's charm would have less of a chance reaching her from a distance. But she had been mistaken: the man looked just as handsome from a distance as he did up close.

"This class is called Behavioral Skills, and you're probably wondering what behavioral skills have to do with the Department of Energy. After all, you're all adults and you all know how to interact with people, or you wouldn't have been selected for this program. Allow me to put your doubts at rest. The skills you will learn in this class will go far beyond the day-to-day human interactions. As you all know, energy, be it electricity, oil or gas, is one of the most precious resources today. If controlled by the wrong hands the results could be devastating. It will be your job—if you graduate of course—to make sure that this doesn't happen. Which means that you will have to learn how to interact with people to get the information you need from them. And sometimes these interactions will have to go beyond a simple conversation. You're probably wondering where I'm going with all of this"—he cast a sweeping glance over the now slightly dazed recruits—"and since a picture is worth a thousand words, it's time we had a little demonstration." Morrissey pointed at a utility cart in the corner. "Just give me a moment here." He wheeled the cart to the middle of the room. "Now, imagine that this cart is a bar stand and that you're having a drink with someone you know to be in possession of the blueprints of the largest nuclear plants in the U.S. This person has obtained this information illegally and you've been tasked with retrieving it. The information is saved on a portable drive." Morrissey held up a flash drive. "The person is by the bar, about to order a drink. Now we need a volunteer." Morrissey halted for what felt like an eternity to announce his victim. "Ms. Roberts, would you be so kind as to come up here?"

"Oh, I'm not really very good at this kind of thing," Ally blurted out.

"That's why you're here—to get good at it. Now, please come to the front of the class."

Cursing her big mouth, Ally made her way to the head of the class. By now she was certain that she was becoming the laughingstock of the entire class.

"Thank you, Ms. Roberts," Morrissey nodded at her when Ally reached the front of the class. "Now, if you were in the situation I just described, how would you go about completing the assignment?"

"I would try to get close to the person and then distract them," Ally offered.

"Excellent. Now, you're the person who's in possession of the data." Morrissey handed Ally the flash drive. "I'm going to turn around so that you can hide it somewhere on you and then I'm going to try to retrieve the flash drive from you." Morrissey turned his face toward the front wall.

Suddenly Ally realized that her clothes didn't have a good hiding spot. She'd felt so sore this morning that she'd opted for stretch pants that didn't have pockets and the same went for her T-shirt. Thank God she'd thrown on a jacket—at least it had pockets. She quickly shoved the flash drive into her left pocket. But even if her pants did have pockets, she would've opted for the jacket as the hiding place anyway: she really didn't want to risk Morrissey's hands going anywhere near her lower body.

"Done," Ally said loudly, praying that the spectacle would be over with already.

"Excellent," said Morrissey. "Now if you'll please take a place behind this cart here and pretend that it's a bar stand."

Ally did as she was told. Within moments Morrissey was standing next to her, a little closer than she'd expected.

"May I buy you a drink, miss?" Morrissey asked in a voice that made it clear that he'd asked the question many times.

"Yes," Ally agreed, instantly regretting her answer. This was a class exercise, not a date. She mustn't let her unease about Morrissey get in the way, or risk getting a bad grade, or worse yet, fail.

"Bartender!" Morrissey called out an imaginary bartender. "What will it be?" Morrissey turned towards Ally, his eyes linking with hers.

Somehow she managed to avoid eye contact with him. It was an old trick her father had taught her. When faced with people you're uncomfortable with, relax your eyes and look through them, not at them. "I've changed my mind. I'm perfectly capable of buying my own drink," Ally dismissed her instructor. "I'd like Campari and soda."

"An interesting choice for an interesting woman," Morrissey remarked, a slight smile playing on his lips. "You won't mind if I join you?"

"This is a public bar." Ally shrugged, doing her best to appear indifferent.

With a wink, Morrissey held up two plastic glasses filled with water, which he'd retrieved from the bottom shelf of the cart, and placed one of the glasses in front of Ally.

"Cheers." Morrissey lifted his glass and Ally followed suit.

Where is this going? Ally wondered, aware of the entire class's eyes focused on her. Delilah was probably having a blast. Ally's hand involuntarily swept over the pocket that held the flash drive. Conscious of the gesture, Ally dropped her hand, hoping that Morrissey hadn't seen it.

With a swift, sharp gesture Morrissey upset his glass, the water spilling all over the cart. "Oh, excuse me, I'm such a klutz!"

In a knee-jerk reaction, Ally jumped to the side, bumping into Morrissey who somehow happened to be standing right behind her. "So sorry," she mumbled, instantly moving away.

"That's quite alright," Morrissey said, reaching for a piece of cloth on the bottom shelf of the cart and wiping the mess. "I think we proved the point we needed to prove with this exercise."

Ally's hand reached for her pocket—needless to say it was empty. "I didn't feel anything!" she exclaimed, more intrigued than embarrassed.

"That's the whole point," Morrissey replied, clearly pleased with himself. "And that's what I'm going to teach you in this class. You may take your seat now, Allyson."

Ally spent the rest of the class feverishly taking notes as Morrissey revealed tricks of the human psyche that weren't part of any psychology class. How to make people trust you, how to get close to them, how to get them to do what you want. It was no wonder Morrissey was so likeable. He was an expert on all of these things, but from then on Ally resolved to think about him only as her instructor.

By the time the bell rang, Ally's head was spinning. There was so much to learn and today was only the first class.

"Ms. Roberts," Morrissey called her name just as Ally was about to leave.

"Yes?" Ally replied, turning around.

"I hope you won't hold it against me for calling you to the front of the class. I hadn't thought about how," Morrissey paused, "embarrassing it might be."

"It was fine," Ally lied. "I promise to do better next time."

"Oh, you did very well, especially for your first class," Morrissey replied. "And please don't feel singled out. I promise to embarrass the rest of your classmates in equal measure."

Ally smiled. "I'll hold you to your promise."

"I've heard Instructor Matthews was tough on you yesterday," Morrissey said just as Ally was about to leave.

"No more so than he was on everyone else," Ally replied, hoping that Morrissey hadn't heard the full account of her pathetic performance.

"You seem a little sore—" he cut himself off, a faint redness creeping over his cheeks. "I meant to say that when I was in training, swimming always helped to get the soreness out. There's a swimming pool in the basement of the gym you might want to take advantage of. The steam room isn't too bad either."

"Thank you for the tip." Ally shifted on her feet. She didn't exactly feel comfortable discussing her sore muscles with Morrissey.

"You're welcome. You'd better get to your next class," he said abruptly. "You don't want to be late."

# Chapter 13

Jake Morrissey gathered his papers. All in all his first class had gone smoothly, except for his decision to call upon Allyson Roberts. He'd figured there'd be no harm in asking Allyson to participate in his little demonstration. In fact, he'd done it on purpose to prove to himself that he could ignore his attraction to her, that in fact there was no attraction to speak of. He'd thought this through beforehand and had almost managed to convince himself of it. What a mistake that had been. He had been barely able to maintain the presence of mind to lift the flash drive out of Allyson's jacket pocket. Good thing it was a classroom demonstration and not a real-life assignment. The proximity of her, the smell of her hair, which he knew was standard-issue dormitory shampoo . . . but somehow the ordinary scent became extraordinary when mixed with Ally's own smell. Stop it, Jake thought, you're starting to sound like a pervert. It was sad but true. He was mortified to think of his conversation with Allyson after class; he'd meant to reassure her that he didn't single her out on purpose, but instead he'd completely bungled things up and ended up talking about her sore muscles. Talk about a touchy subject. And his face had flushed as though he were a dorky teenager. What the hell was wrong with him? Jake clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. This wasn't a game. He had to put these dangerous thoughts out of his mind, but the more he tried not to think about her, the more he ended up doing so. If things continued this way, the next three months were going to be torture. Still, even if he couldn't control his thoughts he could control his actions, and there was no way his relationship with Allyson Roberts was going to be anything other than professional.

He hadn't always been this principled and regimented. There'd been plenty of times he'd bent the rules in the past. The old Jake Morrissey wouldn't have waited long to ask Allyson Roberts out and would find his way into her bed by the end of the first date, second at most. Women were his specialty. Whenever men were in a tough spot they always needed someone to confide in, to build up their confidence, and when they were victorious they needed someone to brag to, to glorify their victories. Women were the vessels men poured their secrets and emotions into, and Jake was damn good at getting those secrets out of them. It was, after all, part of his training, part of his job to secure information by any means necessary. Correction: it used to be part of his job before things had gone horribly wrong. Now his job was to teach, and he was determined to keep his hands off his students.

***

Ally slid the electronic key though her room's lock, pushed the door open, and dropped her bag onto the floor. She had spent the past hour swimming long, determined strokes at the pool. At first she'd felt too exhausted to go. They'd had another marathon of running and push-ups at the hated phys ed class, and all she wanted to do by the end of it was collapse onto her bed. Despite the awkward circumstances in which it was given, she decided to take Morrissey's advice about the pool, and was glad to find that it worked. The pool had been soothing, both physically and mentally. The soreness in her muscles was almost gone now. It would probably return tomorrow, but at least she had relief for a few hours. She'd never been anything more than a casual swimmer, but now she was thinking of adding swimming into her daily routine. She felt lithe and pliant, re-energized for the night of homework that awaited her.

As if it wasn't bad enough that they spent hours cooped up in class, they had homework too, and it wasn't easy stuff either. By her estimate it would take at least three hours to complete. She felt like she were back in college, cramming for finals. The only difference being that college finals had lasted a week, but this program was going to last three long months. Still, it wasn't anything she couldn't handle, or at least she was determined to think so. Convincing herself was half the job.

In a way she was grateful for this unrelenting pace; it kept her mind focused on the present. She was stunned to realize that she hadn't thought about her father all day long. The realization made her feel both guilty and relieved. Guilty because forgetting him felt like betrayal, and relieved because her mind desperately needed a break. She shook her head. There was no reason for her to feel guilty. Her father's memory would always be with her. She was as determined as ever to clear his name, but in order to do that she needed a way to distance herself from her grief and find focus and clarity of mind. This program, this regimented lifestyle, gave her the means to do just that. She wasn't forgetting anything. She was going to grow strong enough to carry out her vengeance.

Ally heard a loud sigh and turned around. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed Delilah hunched over the computer desk, muttering incoherently.

"Delilah, you okay?"

Delilah jumped up in her chair. "I didn't hear you come in."

"We must both have lots on our minds. I didn't see you sitting there until just now."

"You can say that again. I think my mind is about ready to burst from trying to do homework for Reed's class. I can't make heads or tails of it. I don't know why they put me into this program. I don't know anything about this stuff."

"Calm down," Ally said, squeezing her roommate's arm. "It's not that complicated. I remember covering most of this material in college. Sure, Reed's made it a little more complicated, but once you get past his convoluted presentation style—"

Delilah groaned. "You don't get it, do you? I didn't study any of this in college."

"What was your major?" Ally asked, suddenly remembering that of all the topics Delilah and she spoke about college was never one of them.

Delilah lowered her eyes. "I never went to college."

"Never went to college?" Ally blurted out before she could catch herself. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Lots of people don't go to college," she added hastily. "On-the-job training can be just as effective, better even."

Delilah's lips parted in a crooked smile. "You could say that again."

"There was an engineer who worked for my father's company: he was one of the best, and he was completely self-taught. He'd started as an apprentice at a manufacturing plant and worked his way up through the ranks."

Delilah shook her head. "Do I look like someone who'd work at a manufacturing plant?"

"I never judge people by their looks."

"Well maybe you should." Delilah picked up her purse from the floor and reached inside it, producing a pack of cigarettes. "Want one?"

"No thanks. Smoking isn't allowed in the dormitories."

"At this rate they'll kick me out anyway. So I'm not worried." Delilah lit her cigarette and took a long drag.

"Do you want to tell me what's bothering you or you do want to mope around?" Ally asked, losing her patience.

"What the hell, I might as well tell you now." Delilah took a deep breath. "I didn't go to school and I didn't work as an apprentice—well at least not at a factory or a plant. I was an escort, and I was very good at it, one of the best."

Ally's mouth gaped open. "How did you end up here?"

"The woman I used to work for ran this high-class escort service. I'm talking crème de la crème—our clients included actors, executives, high-flying politicians. It was an escort service, but for an extra fee you could get anything you wanted. The minimum rate was two thousand per fuck. My services started at five thousand. Of course I didn't get to keep all of it—thirty percent went to Clarissa, but there was still plenty left over. I was making money hand over fist. My clients were powerful, wealthy men. It was a very glamorous lifestyle, and I enjoyed it. Maybe there's something wrong with me, but I would've kept doing it if we didn't get busted." Delilah took a drag on the now almost burned out cigarette. "Before the whole thing went south, Clarissa started talking about retiring and she promised to hand over the business to me. I would've been damn good at running it, too. Instead I had to give evidence on all of my clients, and now I'm stuck in this hole."

Ally stared at Delilah with wide-open eyes. Come to think of it, many of the things about Delilah didn't fit the picture from the beginning, and now it was all adding up. It'd be too easy to pass judgment on her roommate, but Ally was determined not to do that. Instead she was amazed by Delilah's honesty.

"One of my clients was involved in a price fixing scheme. The authorities were on to him for a while and that's how they got to me and how Clarissa's operation got exposed. She was offered a deal—no jail time and she got to keep all the money she'd made from the business, but she had to stop her operation and give up all the dirt on her clients. Of course she took the deal. She was thinking of retiring anyway. The FBI and DOE were working together on this, so I had no choice but to cooperate. Afterwards they gave me two options—either witness protection or this bullshit. I figured the training program would be the safer choice. I was told if I flunk out, I'd be back in witness protection anyway. No one told me it was going to be this science crap. They probably knew that I'd flunk out, but I'm through doing what they tell me. I'll take my chances from now on. I'm getting out of here." Delilah pushed her hair behind her ears and wiped her eyes with her fists. "I've had enough. I'm sure I could get the girls back together and start the business over."

Ally could scarcely believe what she was hearing. "Hold on a minute. Don't you think it'd be dangerous? Your former clients are your worst enemies now that you ratted them out."

"But I didn't rat them out on purpose. I was forced to."

"It doesn't make a difference. As far as they are concerned, you're a liability and a traitor."

"I'm such an idiot." Delilah covered her face with her hands. "I've made such a mess of my life."

"We don't always choose our circumstances. I'm sure there were reasons you made the choices that you made."

Delilah shook her head. "I wish I could tell you that I grew up in a foster home or that my parents were alcoholics who beat me, but that's just not true. My parents own a chain of delis in New Jersey. We were never rich, but we were always comfortable. They always wanted the best for me. As a kid I took gymnastics—it wasn't cheap, but they paid the gym fees without ever saying a word. I bet they would've reconsidered if they knew how handy gymnastics came in my chosen profession. I ruled the stripper pole and it drove my clients wild that I could put my legs all the way behind my ears—" Delilah broke off. "At least the prosecution was considerate enough to spare my parents the sordid details. It would've killed them to know that their daughter became a whore."

"Delilah, don't put yourself down like that. The past isn't important. It's the future that matters." Ally did her best to sound convincing. Delilah's confession was bewildering to put it mildly, but Ally was determined not to judge her.

"You're so sweet, Ally. Always trying to see the best in people. Sometimes I think you grew up in a nunnery or something. I did the things I did because I'm a bad person, a shallow person. For as long as I can remember I only cared about having a good time. I did go to college, but I flunked out after the first semester. I was too scared to tell my parents, so I was just bumming around, idling in bars and clubs. That's how I ran into Clarissa. She approached me and asked me if I wanted to work for her. I know I should say that I regret doing it, but I don't. The truth is that I loved it. Sure, not all the guys were glamorous, but they were powerful and important and it flattered me to be a part of that. And as far as the sex part . . . sometimes it was great and sometimes it wasn't, but I loved knowing that a night with me cost five thousand dollars. It made me feel special."

Ally's eyes widened. She didn't want to sound like a prude, but having sex with strangers was outside of her comfort zone. But to be fair, Ally knew plenty of girls she'd gone to college with whose sexual conquests could probably rival Delilah's. "So what?" Ally said, her voice nonchalant. "So you slept with lots of men and enjoyed it. Believe me, you're not the first woman to do that. You caught a tough break, and now have a choice—you can either go on moping about your 'bad choices' or you can start fresh. I'm sure there's a reason why you were selected for this program. The authorities didn't have to give you options—they could've just stuck you in witness protection, but they decided to give you a chance."

"Yeah, a chance. Throw you in the water and tell you to swim when they damn well know that you can't."

"So learn."

Delilah looked stunned. "This is the first time I've seen you acting so tough. I like it."

"Thanks. I thought I'd try it on for size. How about we make a deal? I'll help you with the theory part of the classes, as you call it, and you help me get tougher."

Delilah nodded. "I don't think you need much help from me. I think you're already pretty tough. You just don't show it, which is smart of you. It makes people want to take care of you."

Ally frowned. This wasn't the impression she wanted to project. She didn't want to look like some stray puppy, desperate for help. She wanted to be strong and confident and independent. She thought she was doing just that, but apparently she still had a long way to go. "We'd better get started on the homework, or we'll never get done."

# Chapter 14 - Six Weeks Later

Ally pushed her legs hard as she neared the end of the last lap. She knew she was making good time, but she wanted to see if she could make it even better. She could see Instructor Matthews with a stopwatch in his hand. A few more seconds and she'd be at the finish line. She wouldn't be the first one to cross it, but neither would she be the last. Taking a deep breath Ally quickened her stride, digging into her last resources of strength.

"Not bad, Roberts, not bad at all!" Matthews announced his verdict as Ally crossed the finish line.

Ally nodded, too busy catching her breath to smile. She knew that she had done way better than "not bad," but as far as Instructor Matthews went, "not bad" was the highest level of accolade one could expect to receive from him. Taking time to cool off, Ally slowed to a mild jog and headed to the bench where the few recruits who'd crossed the finish line before her were recuperating. She was greeted with waves and cheers.

"That was pretty good, Roberts," Mike Bradley called out, grinning. "I'll have to watch my back from now on."

"That's right, Mike, or I might just beat you next time," Ally shot back.

"Now don't get cocky, Roberts. It doesn't suit you," Mike scolded her. "Instead come here and sit by me."

Ally smiled and took a seat next to Mike. She'd come a long way from the inept, out-of-shape self she'd been on her first day of training. She'd worked hard, both physically and mentally, and the results spoke for themselves. She wasn't just faster on the track, she was also much more confident. In addition to the daily workout routine, physical education class also included a section on self-defense techniques. Every day the recruits would spend an hour practicing their techniques. It pleased Ally to know that she now could hold her own against most of her sparring opponents.

Her interactions with the rest of the recruits had improved drastically too. It'd be an exaggeration to say that she'd made friends with all of them, but she made a point of exchanging at least a few words a day with every member of the group, and more often than not their exchanges grew into friendly banter.

"Look at Heather," Mike pointed at a figure jogging raggedly. "She doesn't look too good."

A few moments later Heather joined them on the bench.

"Heather, what happened, buddy?" Mike asked, reaching out to pat Heather on the shoulder.

"I had a cramp in my shin," Heather muttered, angling her body away from Mike's hand and moving past him to sit next to Ally. "Hey there, Ally." Heather nodded curtly, clearly displeased to see Ally sitting next to Mike Bradley.

"Hi, Heather." Ally smiled back, pretending not to notice. By now she was used to Heather's icy demeanor and refused to let it bother her. Besides, she could understand Heather's irritation. At six feet two, with blue eyes and strawberry blond hair, Mike Bradley was a stud, and Heather had been making eyes at him ever since they arrived at the training facility. But while most male recruits found Heather's looks stunning, Mike remained immune, calling her buddy and acting as though she was just one of the guys. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that the two of them looked like brother and sister. Both were blond, both came from similar upper-class White Anglo-Saxon Protestant backgrounds, but Ally had an inkling that it was more than that. Mike knew the effect he had on the opposite sex and he intended to use it wisely. There was a reason he'd signed up for this program, and he wasn't going to ruin his chances by messing around with Heather Darlington.

Several moments later Delilah joined them on the bench, looking spent. "You left me in the dust, Ally. I guess that's my reward for training you so well. That's gratitude for you." Delilah sighed.

"Hey, it's not my fault you stopped practicing with me." Ally had been building up her endurance by adding nightly jogs to her routine. She had started with one mile and had worked up to three miles, shaving seconds off her time every day. She also did laps at the pool several nights a week. Her body felt strong and quick, like a well-oiled machine. She was surprised to find that while her clothes seemed to fit looser, she'd actually gained five pounds of muscle weight.

"The reason I was so exhausted today is because I stayed up studying till the crack of dawn," Delilah retorted.

"Yeah, and you kept waking me up with that annoying table lamp you refused to turn off," Ally shot back. "I told you you're ready for the test, but if you insist on doing some extra cramming next time please study at the library."

Delilah shook her head. "At this rate I don't know if it'll make much of a difference. Midterms are next week and I'm totally not ready. Reed's the worst. I'm dreading his test."

"You're not alone," Mike piped in. "Reed is a tough son of a gun."

"Come on, you guys!" Ally exclaimed. "You did all right on his last test. Show a little optimism."

"Last test was a breeze compared to the amount of material the midterms are going to cover," Mike pointed out. "I swear Reed wants to see all of us flunk out."

"How about we all study together after class for the rest of the week?" Ally offered.

"Does that mean that you're going to forego your training routine, Miss Fitness?" Delilah poked.

"I'm going to modify it," Ally conceded. "And you're welcome to join me if you want to get some test pointers."

Delilah nodded. "Count me in!"

"Me too," Mike added.

"I don't know what it is, but I'm in," Doug Cleary panted. The last one on the track, he'd just finished his run.

"What happened, Doug?" Delilah asked. "I thought you promised to beat me. I even slowed down to give you a head start."

Ally nudged her roommate. "Stop picking on Doug."

"You can pick all you want. I'm not offended. Jogging is not my forte. As I always say, I work with my brains, not my legs," Doug pointed out proudly. "I figure if they were so concerned with my fitness performance, or lack thereof, they would've kicked me out already."

"You did pretty good out there," Ally tried to reassure him. "Anyways we could all use your help studying for the midterms."

"How about you, Heather? Do you want to join our study group?" Mike asked.

"No thanks." Heather tossed her hair, forgetting that it was still drenched in sweat, but Mike must've been expecting it and dodged just in time. "Um, sorry about that," Heather muttered. "I got the midterms covered," she added.

Just then Instructor Matthews blew his whistle and motioned the class to attention. "Nice job," Matthews said grudgingly. "Most of you, with a few exceptions"—Matthews' glance lingered on the part of the bench where Doug was sitting—"have shown real improvements. Let's hope results continue moving in this direction. Class dismissed."

Ally hurriedly rose from her seat. The break before the next class was only fifteen minutes, which was barely enough time to get out of her sweaty uniform and take a shower. "I'll see you in Morrissey's class," she said to Delilah.

"See you later," Delilah said, smirking. "I know you want to look nice and pretty for Instructor Morrissey," she added in a whisper.

"Your jokes are getting old," Ally shot back, wishing it were true. Delilah's jokes might be getting old, but she was hitting the nail right on the head. If anything, the tension Ally felt when being around Instructor Morrissey had only seemed to intensify.

Ally headed for the locker room showers, grabbed a towel, and slithered out of her jogging clothes. She stood under the cold shower hoping that the cold water would not only wash off her sweat but also rid her mind of those ridiculous thoughts about Jake Morrissey—correction—Instructor Morrissey. It wasn't anything that Instructor Morrissey did or said that made her feel the way she did, but then he didn't need to. His super hunky looks did all the damage. Ally thought it was a crime to hire an instructor so handsome. Did the agency want all the female students to fail? But then it wasn't just Instructor Morrissey's looks that made her breath catch and her heart beat a little too fast in his class. He was smart, intelligent, and funny. His classes were the most interesting in the entire program and it wasn't just because of the subject matter. Sure, it was fascinating to learn how to get under a person's skull during a conversation, how to get people to tell you their secrets, or how to distract a person so that they wouldn't even notice that your hand was in their pocket. Ally felt her face blush every time she remembered the class when Morrissey had called her up for a demonstration. For a moment he had stood so close that her mind had gone blank except for the sudden realization that she could sense the faint smell of his cologne, which was when Morrissey must've lifted the flash drive from her pocket. She wondered if the trick would work on someone who wasn't attracted to him, but then she knew that it would. Since then Morrissey had given numerous demonstrations on other recruits, but he had never called Ally's name again. Not that she minded: one close encounter was more than enough.

Snap out of it, Ally thought as she turned off the water and toweled off. She couldn't completely block her mind from thinking about Instructor Morrissey, but she knew when enough was enough, and today she had exceeded the allowable quota. She must never forget the true reason she was here. She had worked hard to succeed in the training program and she was prepared to work even harder to graduate. Then the real work would begin: she would use the agency's resources to find out who ruined her father and finally get her revenge.

***

Ally was a few minutes late for Professor Morrissey's class and was relieved to see that he wasn't there yet. She quickly took her seat, thanking her good luck.

"I see you took your time primping," Delilah observed. "Your hair looks really nice."

"Thanks," Ally whispered. "I'm glad you like it. Where's Morrissey? It's not like him to be late."

"Don't worry. Prince Charming will be here soon enough," Delilah shot back. "Or not," she added, her eyes widening as the classroom door opened and a striking looking woman walked in.

The woman seemed to be in her early forties, but she had a body that most twenty-year-olds would envy. Her face looked flawless, aided by carefully applied makeup, and her blond hair was styled in a French twist. She was dressed in a black pencil skirt that fit her as though it had been sewn onto her hips and a white blouse that had a bow in the front, right above her cleavage.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," she greeted them. "There's been a slight change to the schedule and we haven't had the chance to print out new schedules. Would the following students please form a line in front of the class? We're going to go into a separate classroom afterwards." She began reading off the names of the recruits, which for some bizarre reason were all female.

When Ally's name was called she stood up and joined the rest of the women in the front of the class.

The woman finished the rest of the list. "Please follow me, ladies. We're going into a different classroom. As for you gentlemen, please remain seated. Your instructor will be with you shortly."

Ally and the rest of the recruits followed the mysterious woman, wondering what on earth was going on.

Shortly afterwards they reached a classroom that had remained off limits up until now, and Ally instantly understood why. At first she thought that her eyes were deceiving her, but after blinking repeatedly, she knew that it wasn't the case. At first glance the classroom looked no different from the rest of the classrooms in the building except for the fact that there were plastic dildos on each desk.

"Please take your seats, ladies," the woman asked, completely oblivious to the dildos. "I hope you brought your notebooks. You're going to take lots of notes in this class," she added with a wry smile. "My name is Rebecca Burton. I'm a consultant with the agency, and you may address me as Instructor Burton. For the remainder of the training we will be meeting in this classroom on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so please mark your schedules accordingly in case those new printouts don't come through. As you might have guessed from the props on your desks, the topic of this class is sexual education." Instructor Burton paused as a series of hushed gasps passed through the class. "Don't sound so shocked," she continued. "I imagine you've all seen a penis before. Now if you pay attention, you might actually learn what to do with one and how to use your skills to your advantage." She picked up a dildo from her desk, rubbing it suggestively. "Sex is the greatest power a woman can have over a man. Now don't get your panties in a bunch. The agency doesn't intend to turn you into women of easy virtue—instead, it wants to arm you with the tools to make men beg and squeal at your mercy. Now, if you could please take your dildos into your right hand, or left if you're a leftie—"

Mortified, Ally did as she was told. Sure, she was no virgin, but she'd never actually owned a dildo before. At least she hoped they wouldn't have to try them out in public.

"Now, these are the most sensitive parts of the penis," Instructor Burton began, her fingers gliding sensually over the dildo. "Follow my movements, ladies."

Over the next thirty minutes Ally learned things she had never heard of before, as she struggled clumsily to imitate the fluid motion of Instructor Burton's hands. Judging by the faces and equally awkward hand movements of her classmates, Ally wasn't in the minority. The only one who seemed to be comfortable was Delilah, her hands effortlessly copying the instructor's movements.

"That will be all for today, ladies," Instructor Burton announced. "Take your dildos with you and practice. I expect to see significant improvement for our next class. We'll have a pop quiz." She winked. "I suggest you stick to the exercises we discussed. These are agency property and you'll have to return them at the end of the program, so make sure they're in pristine condition," she added pointedly. "Have a good day, ladies." With that, Instructor Burton left the room, her high heels loudly clicking on the hallway's hardwood floor.

"Woohoo!" Heather Darlington rose from her seat, twirling her dildo in the air as though it were a lasso. "I sure learned a lot today. I can't wait to try out all these tricks for real," she added, licking her lips. "What's the matter, Ally? Can't handle the heat?" she asked, as Ally hurriedly shoved her dildo into her purse. "Looks like you have to work on your touch, or haven't you listened to anything Instructor Burton was saying?" Heather stroked her dildo, pressing it against her breasts.

"I just happen to prefer the real thing to silicone," Ally spat back.

"I'm sure your roommate there could give you some pointers. She was doing so well in class. By the looks of it she must've had lots of practice."

Unlike her usual self, Delilah merely lowered her head, gathered her purse, and headed for the door.

Ally hurried after her roommate, catching up with her in the doorway. "Ignore Heather. She lives to make people miserable. Hey, do you want to run down to the dorms with me real quick? I don't want to carry around a plastic penis in my bag for the rest of the day."

"I need to stop by the library and print out my homework for Reed's class," Delilah replied. "Do you mind taking mine with you?"

"Why not? The more the merrier." Ally quickly shoved Delilah's dildo into her purse. "I'll see you in a few. I'm going to need some pointers from you later though. I don't think I remember half of the stuff that she showed us. I just hope that I'll never have to use any of it in a real assignment. I would totally bomb. Now you see why they picked you for the program? You've got an edge over all of us in the sex department—"

"Yeah, I got it."

Ally wanted to bite her tongue. "Sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way."

"No, I understand. I don't mind—you have a point. You shouldn't have to sully your hands with girls like me around," Delilah shot back, storming off.

"Delilah, wait! I didn't mean it like that!" Ally dashed down the hallway after her roommate. Just as Ally turned the corner she collided with another body and was knocked off her feet. She looked up and saw Instructor Morrissey standing over her.

"Are you okay? I didn't see you coming from behind the corner. So sorry," he said, offering his arm for her to lean on.

Ally was halfway up when she realized that her bag was on the floor a few feet away from her with its contents, including the two mementos from the sex class, spilling out. She scrambled to her feet to grab it, but was too late.

"I believe this is yours?" Instructor Morrissey handed Ally's bag to her.

"Yes, thank you." Ally took her bag from him and hurriedly closed the zipper, praying that he hadn't noticed the two dildos poking out earlier.

"I hope you had a productive class with Instructor Burton," Morrissey said in an awkward tone that sent Ally's hopes plummeting.

"Yes. Thank you. Have to get to class now." Ally ducked her head and stormed down the hall. Of all the embarrassing moments in her life, this one took the cake.

# Chapter 15

When Ally didn't see Delilah at the study group after class, she left the library and went looking for her roommate. Her hunch told her that she wouldn't have to search for long and she was right. She found Delilah cooped up in their room, seated on the bed, hugging her knees. The only acknowledgement Delilah gave to Ally's presence was to look away.

"I'm sorry," Ally said, taking a seat. "I didn't mean to say what I said. It was stupid of me. I was nervous. I say stupid things when I'm nervous."

"It wasn't stupid—it was true. You don't have anything to apologize for." Delilah pulled her hair behind her ears. "I'm the one who's stupid. I've been trying so hard to fit in when it's obvious that I never will."

"What are you talking about? We fit in."

"You fit in. I'm only tolerated because of you."

"That's not true. Doug and Mike like you."

"Yeah, sure, they're guys. But Heather hates my guts, as do all the girls in the program."

"That's not true."

"Yes it is. They always look at me funny. It's like they can tell that I'm different from them. I'll never be good at this. You were right in what you said earlier—the only reason they offered me a spot in the program is so that I'd continue being an escort, only working for the agency instead."

"I didn't mean for it to sound like that. I'm so sorry I made you feel bad," Ally said softly. "That class made me so nervous that I was just blabbering on without thinking. But now that I have thought about it some more, it's just like Instructor Burton said—sexual attraction is a very powerful tool. She didn't say that we'd have to sleep with men to get information out of them, but that she'd give us the tools to make men do what we want them to do. It's like special pressure points in martial arts, where you can hit a person in a particular spot and paralyze them. Sure, it sounds a bit unorthodox and taboo to use sex that way, but I'm starting to think that I'd like to learn how to do that. I don't know if I'd actually use it, but to have the option could be pretty neat. And you already know all this stuff, which to me is pretty cool and also pretty intimidating."

Delilah sniffed. "Yeah, right. It's about the only thing I'm good at."

"Would you stop putting yourself down? There are lots of things you're good at. You're doing just fine. Your grades are fine. Everything is fine."

"Exactly—fine, which means average. I used to be extraordinarily good at my job and I'm starting to think that that's the only thing I'm good for. I'm such a mess. Delilah Jones isn't even my real name—it's Delia Jones. But who the hell wants to be called Delia? I changed my name when I started working for Clarissa—first it was my work name and then I legally changed it. I don't even know who I am anymore."

Ally took her roommate's hand. "You're Delilah Jones and you're an amazing friend and a wonderful person. And it's about time you started believing it because I'm getting tired of trying to convince you."

"Okay," Delilah mumbled.

"What was that? I couldn't hear it."

"Okay!" Delilah said louder, grinning.

"That's better. Now do you think you could give me some pointers for the sex class?"

"Only if you promise to tutor me for the midterms."

"I already promised you that. You're going to pass everything with flying colors. I, on the other hand, am worried about failing Rebecca's pop quiz, whatever that is. I think I was the worst in the class today."

"You weren't the worst," Delilah assured her. "Everyone else was pretty bad too."

"Thanks! That makes me feel so much better."

"You know what they say, practice makes perfect. So bring those bad boys over here."

Ally reached for her bag and handed Delilah one of the dildos. "I'm not sure which one is yours. They both look the same."

"I don't care—they're both virgins and will remain so. Remember what Rebecca said, these dildos are agency property and we have to return them in pristine condition, so don't even think about using them on your lady parts. I can't believe I just said 'lady parts.' I feel like I'm in a 1950s movie."

"I wasn't planning to," Ally retorted. "Now can we please get started?"

"Someone is impatient! Hey, how come you had them in your purse? I thought you were going to leave them in the room?"

"I was. You don't want to know what happened," Ally groaned, covering her face.

Delilah's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes I do! And you're going to tell me."

"No, I'm not. Now let's practice."

"Yes, you are! Or you are on your own with the big boy here." Delilah waved one of the dildos at Ally.

"Fine, I might as well tell you since you're to blame for it. When I was chasing you after class I bumped into Morrissey and dropped my bag with the goodies from Rebecca's class spilling out. I was hoping to get to it before he saw it, but the gentleman that he is, he handed me the bag. I'm pretty sure that he saw the penises."

"Classic!" Delilah erupted in a bout of laughter. "I swear you can't make this stuff up."

"Thanks. It was the most humiliating moment of my life."

"I think you're looking at it all wrong—maybe Morrissey will finally get the message. I mean, you couldn't possibly get more obvious than shoving a plastic penis in his face."

Ally blushed in spite of herself. "I didn't shove a plastic penis in his face!"

"Um, sorry, you're right—you shoved two plastic penises in his face."

"I didn't shove anything in his face! I bumped into him, fell, and dropped my bag because I was running after you."

"Hmmmm, what a convenient excuse. Have you ever heard of parapraxis or symptomatic actions? Sounds like a classic example to me."

"I think we should leave Freud out of it. Since when did you become a psychologist? Anyway, I believe Freud's definition had to do with misplacing things or writing a wrong word instead of the one intended. At no point did he mention dildos."

"I took psychology in college—before I dropped out, that is. It was the only class I was good at. And I do think it was a classic penis slip—oh excuse me, I mean Freudian slip."

"You're never going to let me live this one down, are you?"

"Probably not."

"Fine, have it your way. Can we please get some penis practice now?"

"Sure." Delilah handed Ally the other dildo.

"Okay, I'm ready," said Ally expectantly.

"What are you doing?" Delilah asked.

"Waiting for your instructions."

"Yeah, but what are you doing? That's not how you handle a dick. Your fingers are all limp and you're barely touching it. Are you scared of it? Because it's not going to bite you or anything like that."

"I'm not scared of it," Ally snapped. "Why would I be afraid of a plastic thing?"

"Are you afraid of the real thing?"

"I'm not afraid of it," Ally lied. But then remembering the awkwardness she always felt during foreplay with Ron, she added, "I just don't know what to do with it. And yes, I feel a little awkward. Okay, a lot awkward. I don't know . . . it just feels weird holding it in my hand."

"You've come to the right source. Hold it firmly, like you're in control," Delilah began.

Twenty minutes later Ally's eyes were wide open with fascination. "Wow, I had no idea about any of these things."

"Now you do. It can come in real handy at times."

"I bet," Ally said, feeling extremely naïve and inept. "I wish I'd known about all of this before. Maybe things would've been different with Ron."

"Was he your first?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Pretty much, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. He was lucky to have you and he could've told you what he liked."

"Maybe he wanted someone with more experience. I always had a feeling like I wasn't adventurous enough for him."

"Trust me, experience is easy to gain. The problem is that once you slept with a ton of guys you can't go back and unsleep with them."

"I guess I could've taken the initiative and done my own research instead of letting him take the lead all the time."

Delilah smirked. "You make sex sound like a science project. From what you told me about Ron, your sex life wasn't the problem. He just seemed like a first-rate jerk."

"You're right." Ally sighed. "Our relationship lacked much more than exciting sex. I guess it'd be easier to fool myself into thinking that he dumped me because I was boring in bed and not because he didn't want anything to do with me after my father lost his name and his fortune."

"Whoa! Your father had a fortune? Are you an heiress? I don't remember you telling me anything about that."

Ally shook her head. Even when her father had been lauded in magazines and newspapers, it never crossed her mind to call herself an heiress and the word definitely didn't apply to her now. "No, I'm not. But my father was the founder of Roberts Enterprises. I thought you figured it out from my last name."

"Roberts is a common enough name."

Noticing the blank look in Delilah's eyes, Ally added, "The bankruptcy proceedings and the trial were all over the news."

Delilah shrugged. "I don't watch the news." She reached for Ally's hand. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"You told me your life story. It's only fair that I tell you mine . . ." Ally took a deep breath, suddenly realizing that this would be the first time she'd be recounting everything that had happened to her in the past few horrible months, from start to finish. After her father had passed away, she'd shut her grief inside her and tried to bury her memories. She'd talked to Maddie a few times and to Uncle Otto, but they already knew her story. Now she'd have to revisit the nightmare in its entirety.

"Wow," Delilah muttered after Ally finished her story. "And here I was feeling sorry for myself. I can't imagine going through what you've been through. I'm so sorry."

Ally shook her head. Thoughts of her past were always with her, in the back of her mind, but telling her story had unhinged her. "I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I don't want to feel sorry for myself, or I'll never get what I want."

"What is it you want?" Delilah asked in a hushed tone.

"Revenge. I know that my father was innocent. Somebody wanted to ruin him, and I'm going to find out who it was. And then I'm going to make him pay for what he did."

"Count me in," Delilah said solemnly. "Whatever it is I can do to help, I'll do it."

"Thanks. I can't wait for training to be over with. I have a plan in mind, but I need the agency's systems to execute it. I need access to their lab facilities and their background search systems. I thought we'd have system access here, but the only database we have is a dummy replica of the real background search system that the agency has, or at least I think that they must have. And I'm pretty sure the agency has access to top-notch labs. That's what I need for starters. Once I have proof, I'll plan my next move."

"But you're not going to break the law, are you?" Delilah asked, looking scared.

"I can't promise you that, but I can promise you that I won't involve you in anything illegal."

"Don't get me wrong, I won't back out on my promise. It's just that it would really suck to go to jail."

"I don't intend to go to jail. Whoever it was who ended my father's life won't get the satisfaction of seeing me fail."

# Chapter 16 - Six Weeks Later

Ally took a seat behind the desk in her cubicle and logged into her computer. She'd been working for the agency in an official capacity for two weeks. So far she was yet to get an actual assignment, but her days had been busy nonetheless. She'd been occupied with additional on-the-job training, which included information on security protocols and safety procedures as well as learning the agency's internal systems. She also moved into her new place, for which she didn't actually have to do any moving. She was given the key to her new apartment at the end of her training, courtesy of the agency, and her belongings had already been transferred there from the storage unit prior to her arrival. Her quarters consisted of a tiny studio in a walk-up building in the East Village. At first she had been nervous about moving into agency housing: it felt as though even the most private aspects of her life would be subject to the agency's supervision. She'd imagined a standardized dormitory complex and was instead surprised by the small but cozy studio. In spite of herself she loved it immediately—the place had everything she needed.

It'd be so easy to fall into the rhythm of her new routine, but she couldn't afford herself such a luxury. While on the outside she might look eager to learn the ropes of her new job, her mind was feverishly working on ways to solve the mystery of her father's demise. Of course there was always a possibility that she was imagining it all. The facts were against her, and if one relied solely on the evidence, there was a very high probability of her being wrong. It was the approach that the lawyers who had represented her father had taken, and even though he would never admit it, she knew that later on Uncle Otto also joined their ranks. And, she suspected, so did her father. Maybe she was crazy, but to her his death was the ultimate sign of giving up. The official cause of her father's death was heart failure, but she believed that the reason he had passed away was that he no longer saw a reason to fight. She knew she couldn't bring her father back, but she could prove his innocence, and she resolved to keep fighting until she did.

Last week she'd met with Uncle Otto. It had broken her heart to lie to him about her employment, but she couldn't tell the truth, even to him. She was saddened to see that he was now living in a much smaller house, doing very basic legal work. Ally felt like a coward admitting to herself that under the circumstances she would've preferred not to see him, but it wasn't an option. She needed to see the tests that had been performed on the equipment parts that Roberts Enterprises had installed while doing maintenance on the Pollux plants. Warrell & Kroden, the law firm that had been hired to defend her father, had copies of all the tests and Otto was able to request copies for Ally.

Ally placed the test results on her desk and studied them for the umpteenth time. She'd been poring over the records since she'd gotten her hands on them. All the equipment was deemed to be in perfect working order, and yet from the moment she saw the results she had a nagging feeling that something didn't add up. Now she had the missing piece to check if her theory was correct. She picked up the cardboard box from her desk and headed to the section of the building where the research lab was located.

She found Doug Cleary at his desk, hunched over a pile of papers.

"Hey there," Doug greeted her, hurriedly dumping the papers on his desk into a drawer and locking them away. "I wish you'd told me you were coming."

"Sorry to startle you. Relax. I'm not trying to get the scoop on your new assignment, whatever it is you're working on."

Doug blushed. "That's not what I meant. Confidential information must be protected at all times. It's standard protocol requirements, or haven't you read the clean desk policy?"

"I read it all right," Ally replied impatiently. Doug was a stickler for protocol. Working the lab was the perfect assignment for him: the agency couldn't have found a more meticulous person for the job. "I was hoping I could ask you for a favor," Ally added, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Doug shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "I'm pretty swamped here, but if it's something quick—"

"What do you think about these?" Ally placed the test results from the Pollux project on his desk.

Doug focused his attention on the report, his expression growing stiffer with every minute. "I'm guessing this isn't for an official assignment?" he asked a few minutes later.

Ally considered lying to him, but surmising that he was too perceptive to buy it decided to tell the truth. "No, it isn't. That's why I said that I needed a favor."

"Does this have to do with what I think it has to do with?"

"How do I know what you think?"

Doug handed the papers back to her and crossed his arms on his chest. "If you want my help you're going to have to be upfront with me, Ally."

"Okay, don't get your panties in a bunch. These test results were used as evidence in the Pollux plant failure trial, but I have reason to believe that they are erroneous. I was able to get my hands on spare parts that were supplied for the project but were never used, and I want you to run another set of tests."

Doug hung his head. "Great, just great. Are you trying to get me fired?"

"If you can't do it, I completely understand. It'd require some pretty complex testing and this lab might not even have the equipment for it."

"This lab happens to have cutting-edge equipment," Doug spat back. "Doing these tests would be a walk in the park for me."

"So you'll do it?"

"Damn it." He rubbed his forehead. "I should've seen it coming. Yes, I'll do it."

"Great. Here are the parts that need to be tested." Ally placed the box on Doug's desk.

He opened the box and looked inside. "What have we here? Servo motors, pumps, hydraulics, and could these be radiation hardened chips?" he asked, holding up a tiny chip.

"Spot on. I want to see if there's anything wrong with this equipment."

"But you already have the test results here."

"I know, but I want to double check them."

"You don't think that the tests were thorough enough? There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with the results."

"Oh yeah? Check again."

Doug leafed through the test results. "They didn't test the chips."

"Exactly."

"But how could they have missed it?"

"I don't know. I don't even know if I have anything to go on. It could be that the page with the chip test result got lost when Warrell & Kroden made a copy for me."

"Warrell & Kroden?"

"They represented my father in the proceedings."

"Those boys don't mess around. I doubt they would've missed anything."

"You're probably right, but I'd like to test all of these parts and see if there might be something there."

"Wait a minute, how did you get these?" Doug eyed her suspiciously. "There aren't stolen, are they?"

"No." Not exactly, she wanted to add, but held her tongue. "I paid a little visit to one of Pollux's plants and asked them if they had spare parts remaining from the latest maintenance project done by Roberts Enterprises."

"And they just let you waltz in there and gave you everything you asked for?"

"Pretty much, after I showed my ID."

"Jesus! Are you trying to get fired, or worse, go to jail?"

"I'm trying to do whatever it takes to clear my father's name. I didn't want to tell you the details because I figured that the less you knew the better it'd be for you."

"How in hell would it be better?"

"You wouldn't be compromised. You could blame it all on me and say that you didn't know anything about this."

"And who would believe me?"

"I guess I didn't think of that . . . I admit that this isn't the perfect plan, but it's the only one I have."

"All right." Doug nodded. "I'll do it, but only because we're friends and because I was a fan of your father. I wrote a paper on him and his company at school."

"I really appreciate it, Doug." Ally swallowed a lump in her throat.

"If something like this happened to my father, I'd be looking for answers too. I should have the results in two days max. I'll call as soon as I have them."

"Thanks." Ally nodded and left the room.

***

With a heavy heart, Jake Morrissey ascended the front stairs of the DOE's Manhattan building. He'd received an email from Marion stating that she wanted to see him, and that was never good news. Despite his doubts and trepidations, he'd managed to do a decent job as an instructor. At least he thought so, and if the recruits' final scores for his subject were any indication, his opinion had plenty of ground. Of course that by no means meant that Marion would agree. He wondered about the reason behind her request and hoped that his stay in the city wouldn't be long. He liked his new, quiet life in rural Connecticut. As an instructor, he had been given the option of agency housing, which he gladly accepted. It wasn't anything major, just a modest two bedroom cottage adjacent to the training grounds, but it was clean and it was close to a lake and hiking trails. Now that the training for first-year recruits was over, Jake had a short break until the new round of advanced training for experienced recruits would begin. Jake spent his hiatus rowing in his canoe in the mornings, and hiking in the surrounding woods for hours on end. Physical activity tired his muscles and kept his mind free of guilty thoughts; well, at least it did the trick most of the time.

Jake showed his identification to the security desk and proceeded upstairs. He knew the way only too well. It wasn't too long ago that he'd had an office on the very same floor. As he passed through the familiar halls, he wondered where the recent recruits were assigned. He could pretty much guess who got the field job and who was assigned behind the desk, but he wasn't really so much interested in the fate of all the recruits, just one. Ally Roberts. Now that he was no longer her instructor, he allowed himself to mentally refer to her as Ally. What harm could it possibly do when their paths were no longer in danger of crossing? In a way he had felt almost relieved once finals were finished. He'd seen Ally get onto the bus with the rest of the recruits and head back to the city for her exciting future with the DOE. Aside from his formal farewell speech to the entire class, he didn't say goodbye to her. In fact, he'd gone out of his way to avoid her for fear of saying something he wasn't supposed to. But that didn't mean that he'd forgotten her. On the contrary, during his long solitary hikes she was frequently in his thoughts. It brought him joy to think of her new future, to think that he'd been a small part of it, teaching her the skills she'd need to succeed. At times he almost managed to convince himself that his interest in her was that of mentor, which of course he knew wasn't true. Still, thoughts couldn't harm anyone and as long as he stayed in the outskirts of Connecticut he knew he was safe.

Jake took a deep breath and rapped his fingers on the door of Marion's office. Just as he remembered, a brisk "Come in," followed almost instantly. He opened the door and walked inside.

"Jake, how wonderful to see you." Marion rose from her seat to greet him.

"It's always a pleasure to see you, Marion," said Jake as he took her hand. Her hand might have been slender, but her grip was as firm as that of a man's, just the way he remembered. Marion had been with the agency long before Jake had joined, but she hardly looked a day older than he remembered from first meeting her.

"Please, have a seat," she added, motioning to the chair opposite her desk.

"Thank you." Jake lowered himself into the chair. "So, what can I do for you, Marion?"

"Cutting straight to the chase." She smiled. "Just like always. Can't two old friends reminisce?"

He smiled back at her. Her flattery wasn't going to work on him. "I don't remember you ever being sentimental, Marion."

She nodded. "You got me there, Jake. You've done an excellent job as an instructor."

"Thank you. I really appreciate you giving me the opportunity, and I hope to continue serving the agency in this capacity. I think I found my calling."

A slight frown rippled her smooth forehead. "Cut the bullshit, Jake. Instructor jobs are for blue hairs and has-beens, and you're neither."

"I disagree with you, Marion. I think I fit the category of a has-been perfectly," Jake countered. If Marion thought she was going to get to him with her prickling, she had another thing coming.

"How long are you going to keep hiding?"

"Who says I'm hiding? I had a career, such as it was, as a field operative and now I feel that my skills would be best used to train new recruits."

"I don't give a rat's ass what you think."

"So much for old friends reminiscing," he observed nonchalantly. He knew her too well to be offended.

"Christ, Jake. I'm only saying this because I care about you—" she broke off. "You make it sound like we're in some damn soap opera. You're a good agent, one of the best ones we've got, and I need you out in the field instead of rotting away in the training facility."

"I don't think of it as 'rotting away', Marion. We've got a good crop of recruits and I like knowing that I had something to do with helping them start their career at the agency. I think that's important. And I couldn't go back to the field even if I wanted to."

"So you've thought about it!" she exclaimed, delighted.

"Of course I've thought about it. I'm only human, after all. I loved my job. The excitement, the danger—"

"I thought you said you loved teaching," she interrupted him.

"Don't mock me, Marion. I enjoy teaching, but I'd be lying to say that I love it as much as being in the field. But I know that I can't be out there again. I am responsible for a person's death, for an innocent woman's death."

Marion blew out a long breath. "Consuelo Williams's death was most unfortunate, but she was hardly an innocent victim. She knowingly engaged in a relationship with a corrupt man, a volatile man, a man who had amassed his wealth through crime."

"Yes, but that hardly makes her a criminal, does it? And it doesn't make it all right to use her and treat her life as disposable. The fact of the matter is that it was my fault."

"It wasn't your fault, Jake. The investigation proved that you weren't to blame. Your reputation is clean."

"My reputation may be clean, but my conscience isn't."

"She was engaged to Asafo Abarca who tried to perpetrate the grandest terrorist scheme I've seen in my career here. Had he been successful, we would've been in for the greatest oil crisis this country has ever seen. At no point did Consuelo Williams consider the moral flaws of her husband-to-be. Instead, she happily jumped into his bed in exchange for the life of luxury he promised her. Of course the fact that he was more than twice her age, fat and disgusting looking must've made things difficult, and she was only too happy for a little diversion with you. She knew that her fiancé was a dangerous man, a jealous man, but she chose to cheat on him with you anyway. It saddens me that Asafo strangled his bride-to-be in a fit of jealousy, but you can't blame yourself for it, Jake."

"Oh no? And who's to blame for it, Marion, if not me? I'm the one who slept with her to get her to spy on Asafo Abarca, Venezuela's largest oil tycoon. I'm the one responsible for her death. She wasn't a bad girl, Marion. She was so young, only twenty. Sure, she was vain and a bit of a bimbo and she liked nice things, but that hardly qualifies as a crime. And it most certainly does not sanction death."

"No, it doesn't, but the results we achieved certainly sanctions it. I believe in sacrificing one for the good of many."

"I don't. Now if you're through, I need to head back to Connecticut. I need to start working on training modules."

"I don't think so, Jake. As of next week you're being transferred back to field duty."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"But I wasn't informed."

"You're being informed now. Of course should you choose not to accept your reassignment, your employment with the agency will be terminated."

"You wicked old—"

"Temper, Jakie, temper." Marion smiled victoriously. "You might reconsider once you hear about the assignment I have planned for you. One of the new recruits, Allyson Roberts, I want to try her out in the field and I want you to partner with her. I think she's got the skills for the job, but just in case not you're going to be the safety net."

It took all of Jake's self-control to maintain composure under Marion's cold stare. Had he been that obvious that rumors of his tender spot for Ally reached Marion, or was it just a stroke of bad luck? Safety net—he was the opposite of what the expression stood for. "I can't, Marion. Don't make me do this. There are plenty of agents who are more qualified than I am."

"So are you choosing to resign?" She pushed the paperwork across the table. "You haven't been with us long enough to receive a full pension, but you'd be able to get by on the reduced payout," she added dryly.

So this was the thanks he was getting after all those years of bending his morals and sacrificing his principles until he no longer knew right from wrong, as long as it provided him with the means to successfully complete his assignments. Now he was being kicked out the door like an old, useless dog. He contemplated signing the papers; after all, there was nothing tying him to the agency anymore. He didn't have to prove himself to anyone anymore. He could collect his reduced pension and head out to Calgary and work for his uncle, like he'd planned to what now felt like an eternity ago. Or he could while away his days at some remote spot in upstate New York or Wyoming or Arizona or wherever suited his fancy. He reached for the pen. It'd be so easy to just walk away. There was just one problem: no matter how far away he went, his inner demons would always be with him. In a way, choosing to work as an instructor had been his penance; he fancied that if he proved himself useful again it would redeem his failure, his sin. And now Marion was threatening to take that away from him.

"She's really a very bright girl," Marion said. "Her technical skills were excellent to begin with and the training had little to improve there, but she also showed promising results in the behavioral section of the training and did surprisingly well in the sex ed class. All in all I think she could be a very good field agent."

At the mention of sex ed, Jake felt his throat go dry. Of course he knew that it was part of the program. He taught that part of the training for the male recruits himself—his past escapades having provided him with an ample knowledge base. But he refused to think of it in connection with Ally. He still remembered the look of shock on her face when she collided with him right after the first sex ed class. She must've been so embarrassed that she wasn't even looking where she was going. She had dropped her bag and he had picked it up mechanically, wishing he hadn't seen the two plastic dildos sticking out of it. He'd seen the curriculum from Instructor Burton's class and the mere possibility of Ally using these "skills" on an assignment sent his blood boiling. How dare they corrupt this young, innocent girl? She was way too good for this. The agency would chew her up and spit her out until there was nothing left of the Ally who caught his eye on the first day of training. But maybe if he stayed, he could find a way to protect her. He placed the pen on the desk. "Have it your way, Marion. I accept the assignment."

She rubbed her hands together, looking like a cat that had just swallowed a canary. "Excellent. You won't regret this, Jake. Just wait till you hear the details."

# Chapter 17

Ally stared at the phone on her desk. It had been two days since she'd seen Doug about running the tests on the spare parts from the Pollux plant, and she hadn't heard from him since. It was so tempting to pick up the phone and check up on him, but she resisted the urge. She hadn't known Doug for long, but she knew that he was finicky and fiercely territorial about having his 'creative freedom.' While most people wouldn't describe being stuck in a lab with nothing more for company than test tubes and research equipment as creative, Doug likened his work to that of an artist creating a painting or a sculpture, so Ally thought it best not to disturb him lest his brush or chisel might slip. Still she worried. What if Doug got caught doing her a favor? A myriad of possibilities stormed through her mind as she sat there, trying to look busy and worry-free.

When the phone on her desk rang, she literally jumped up in her chair. She looked at the caller ID screen and thought she was going to have a heart attack at the sight of Marion Phillips' name on the screen. Marion usually communicated with everyone through her assistant, so why on earth would she be calling Ally directly?

Her hand trembling, Ally picked up the phone. "Allyson Roberts speaking," she said calmly.

"Ally, how are you? This is Marion Phillips." Marion continued without pausing for Ally to answer her question. "Would you mind stopping by my office for a few minutes?"

Ally gulped. Of course not. How could anyone at the agency ever object to Marion Phillips' will? "I will be right there," she replied.

"Wonderful." The line went dead.

Ally rose from her desk. She smoothed her skirt, put on her suit jacket, and grabbed a notepad.

Just be calm, she told herself as she hurried down the hall. You don't know what she wants, so there's no reason to get all worked up. Not yet at any rate.

When she reached Marion's office, Ally saw that the door was already open. She was about to knock on the door for formality's sake, but Marion saw her and waved her in.

"Come in, Ally, come in," Marion greeted her. "Please, sit down and close the door."

Ally did as she was told and waited for what was to come next.

"We haven't had a chance to catch up since the training," Marion said. "I make it a point to keep a close eye on all new recruits, but it's been very busy here, so my apologies. I didn't mean to make you feel neglected."

Ally forced herself not to squirm under Marion's piercing gaze. "I've had nothing but great experiences so far," Ally assured her. "I'm learning the ropes and hope to be useful to the agency."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. I received very positive reports from your instructors and your line supervisor, and I think you're ready for an assignment."

Ally felt a tremendous weight lift off her shoulders. So this was about an assignment, not about her being discovered abusing her work powers. Good. She could handle an assignment.

"Now, the nature of this assignment may seem personal to you, and if you have any doubts about your ability to complete it, I want you to be completely honest with me."

"Of course."

"The target is Blaine Platt, the CEO of Infinity Capital."

"I know who Blaine Platt is," Ally replied solemnly.

"I thought so. And do you think you're capable of undertaking an assignment that would require you getting close to him?"

"There's nothing I'd like more," Ally said quietly.

"I didn't ask if you'd like it. I asked if you're capable of successfully completing the assignment."

"Yes, ma'am. I am."

"Good." Marion nodded. "I think so too. You're not going to disappoint me, Ally, are you?"

"Not in a million years."

"Good. Now listen up. Blaine Platt is a man of extraordinary wealth and power. He was born into money, but he built an industrial empire that allowed him to multiply his net worth several times over. He has more money in his bank than the GDP of a small country. Now I have nothing against entrepreneurial spirit, but some people let their money go to their heads. They start thinking they can play God and run the world. Not on our watch. We want you to get close to Platt. We have a suspicion that he may be conspiring in a scheme to target major players that service energy producing plants, such as Roberts Enterprises used to be," Marion added.

Ally's eyes blazed. "Do you think he was the one who destroyed my father's company?" Blaine Platt had been her father's most vicious competitor. After Roberts Enterprises was declared bankrupt, Blaine Platt was called a savior when he scooped up Roberts Enterprises' facilities and patents for mere peanuts. Although she had no proof to base it on, Ally felt it in her gut that Platt was connected to her father's demise. She had voiced her suspicions to her father's lawyers, but they had merely dismissed her words as the babblings of a grieving daughter. Now she was being given a chance to get close to Platt. It was all she could ask for.

"It's possible. But it's also possible that we're mistaken and Platt is completely innocent. You're a smart girl, Ally, and you must realize that I thoroughly vetted your file before I accepted you into the program. Most would say that you're too green to be given this assignment, but I say that your instincts and your thirst for revenge are just what we need."

Ally felt completely naked under Marion's amused stare. Were even her thoughts no longer private?

"Don't look so alarmed, Ally. I'm no mind reader, and it doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out your motives. You want revenge and I don't blame you. Your father was an important member of the business community. The loss of his life and the loss of his company were most unfortunate. But even more unfortunate was the incident with Pollux plants—the scale was too large and I don't want to see anything like that happen again. We've been running an independent investigation into this matter and so far we don't have much to go on. I think Platt may be the key we need to get answers. Your partner will give you more information on the case."

"My partner?"

"You've got great potential, but you're way too inexperienced to be assigned a case like this on your own. Jake Morrissey will be your partner on this case."

"Instructor Morrissey?"

"It's Agent Morrissey now—he's been reassigned. But I'm sure he won't mind if you call him Jake. He's never been one for formalities." Marion smiled. "One more disclosure, Ally, before you accept this assignment. I'd like to make sure that you understand that this assignment may require use of untraditional methods in order to successfully complete it. The right agent for the job will need to have an open mind."

Ally nodded. She was willing to go to the ends of the earth to find the bastards who ruined her father. "I'll do anything it takes, Marion."

"Good. In that case I'll tell Rebecca Burton to give you a call."

"Rebecca Burton?"

"You remember her from the training? She works with the agency as an instructor and consultant for these special situations," Marion added.

Ally's eyes widened. "Do you mean that I'll have to use what we learned in the sex ed class on Blaine Platt?"

"I thought you were going to keep an open mind about this."

"Not a problem. Whatever it takes," Ally assured her. She wanted this assignment more than anything and she was going to get it, whatever it took.

"Good. We'll have to move quickly. There's a charity ball in two weeks that Platt is a major contributor to. He's very finicky about events he attends, but we have it on good authority that he's going to be present at this one. I wish we had more time to prepare, but we just got this information. You'll attend the event with Jake Morrissey. Your task will be to get close to Platt. Here are some basic details on Platt." Marion handed her a folder. "Jake will brief you on the rest of the plan."

Great, Ally thought as she left Marion's office. She didn't know which part was worse—the prospect of having to seduce Blaine Platt to get information out of him or having to do it with Jake Morrissey watching her.

***

After leaving Marion's office, Ally locked the Platt folder in her desk and headed straight for the part of the building where the lab was located. Now that she was being officially assigned to trail Platt, she had a reason to justify testing Pollux's equipment. Knowing what a worrywart Doug was, she knew he'd be happy to hear the news.

She spotted Doug through the glass wall of the lab, seated at his desk, studiously poring over yet another set of reports.

"Any news?" she asked hopefully.

Doug swung around on his chair and stared back at her. "You must have psychic powers. I was just going to call you. I'm finally finished with all the tests and I think you'll be interested to see what I found."

"Let's hear it."

Doug unlocked one of his desk drawers and pulled out a folder. "I started with the x- rays," he began. "At first everything was looking legit," he added, placing the x-ray images on the desk. "But then I tested the chip," he added, placing another image on the desk.

"Seems to be no different from the rest of the images."

"Exactly. This is a radiation hardened chip, by the way," he added, clearly pleased with himself.

"The x-ray should've never gotten through the outer coating!" Ally exclaimed.

"That's right. This perfectly clear image got me thinking that the coating had to be deficient. I ran spectrographic analysis and found that the alloy used was subpar. This chip was not manufactured to withstand the levels of radiation it would be subjected to."

"So do you think it was a one-off mistake?"

"These are manufactured in batches, so I'm pretty sure that all the chips from this production batch would have had the same problem."

"And since the specs for these components are standardized, my guess is that someone deliberately deviated from the spec."

"Possibly. Or it could be human error that caused the deviation," Doug pointed out.

Ally shook her head. It was hard to believe that a mistake of such magnitude had been caused by pure negligence. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this," she muttered.

"Unless you test all the remaining chips from the Pollux plants, there's no way to know for sure. Ally, you're not going rogue, are you? You've got to report this to your supervisor."

"That's exactly what I'm going to do. From now on it's all going to be legit. I can't tell you the details yet, but let's just say that from now on any tests I'll ask you to run will be part of an official assignment."

When Ally got back to her desk she saw that the message light on her phone was blinking. She picked up the receiver and listened to the voicemail: "Hi Ally, this is Rebecca Burton. Marion told me to give you a call. Please call me back when you have a chance."

Ally took a deep breath and dialed Rebecca's extension. They agreed to meet the next day.

***

"Come on in, Ally," Rebecca Burton welcomed Ally inside. Rebecca's office looked more like a boudoir than a government office. The lighting was dimmed and instead of regular office furniture there was a plush loveseat and several plush armchairs. There was also a vanity table with an ottoman seat, and several poufs scattered throughout the room. Instead of plastic blinds the windows were draped with silk curtains. And then there was Rebecca Burton herself, who instead of a business suit was wearing a silk robe.

"Hello." Ally took a deep breath. To say that this was weird would be an understatement of greatest proportions.

"Make yourself comfortable," Rebecca said with a wide sweeping gesture.

"Thank you." Ally took a seat on the loveseat.

"Would you like something to drink? Tea or coffee? Or perhaps something stronger?" Rebecca winked.

"Oh no, I'm fine," Ally lied. The truth was that she was anything but fine. She was uncomfortable beyond belief, but she was going to suffer through this, come hell or high water.

"I'll have an herbal tea," Rebecca announced and disappeared behind a set of curtains that hung in the far end of the room and must've served as a partition to a kitchenette.

A few moments later Rebecca returned carrying two mugs. "Made you one as well," she said, placing the cup in front of Ally. "In case you change your mind."

"Thank you." Ally reached for the cup not out of thirst but to have something to occupy her hands. A calming scent touched her nostrils as she took a sip of the soothing liquid. "Mmm, this is nice," she said, almost forgetting her embarrassment.

"I'm glad you like it." Rebecca smiled, sipping her tea. "So tell me about this man you're supposed to charm." Rebecca smiled, wrapping her fingers around the cup.

"I can't disclose his name. The assignment is confidential."

"I didn't ask you for his name. I asked you to tell me what he's like. Is he old or young? Handsome or ugly? Successful or poor? Conceited or humble?"

Ally nodded. The file on Platt that Marion had given to Ally had detailed information on him from his favorite brands to what kind of women he dated. "He was born into money, but he built a very successful business since, increasing his fortune several times over. He's in his early forties. He's never been married and has a reputation as a womanizer. One of those types that has a new model on his arm every week."

"He dates models?"

"Models, actresses, aspiring singers. I was using the word loosely. Any woman who's foolish enough to throw herself on him in exchange for his influence and money."

"Brunettes or blondes?"

"He doesn't seem to care one way or the other."

"Is he handsome?"

"I guess most women would find him attractive."

"But not you?"

Ally shook her head. It wasn't just the fact that the man had bought her father's company on a dime; the set crudeness in his jaw line and the steely look in his eyes made something inside Ally recoil.

"That makes it easier. The fewer distractions we have the better." Rebecca finished the rest of her tea. "How do you feel about changing into something more comfortable?" She held up a silk robe similar to the one she had on. "And then we can see if blond is a good color for you." She motioned at a set of wigs propped on the vanity table. "You can change in there." Rebecca motioned at a paper screen divider with flower motif on it.

Ally changed into the robe and took a seat behind the vanity table. She was surprised to notice that the feeling of unease had completely left her. Whatever it was that Rebecca used in her tea worked.

"I say we change things up a bit and go for a short do." Rebecca reached for a blond cropped cut wig.

"I always wanted to see what it'd be like to have short hair."

"Now is your chance." She placed the wig back on the mannequin and started pinning up Ally's hair. A few minutes later she placed the wig over Ally's hair. "Sorry it's a little tight, but it makes it look more realistic."

"Wow!" Ally exclaimed. The girl who stared back at her from the mirror looked completely different.

"We're not done yet." Rebecca smiled. "What color eyes would you prefer? Green or hazel?"

"Green."

"Green it is. Do you wear contact lenses?"

Ally shook her head. She always had perfect vision.

"It makes it easier that we don't have to worry about prescription, but you'll have to practice putting these in. I'll show you for now and I'll give you several packs to take with you. Keep your eyes wide open. I'll just pop them in."

Ally inwardly cringed, but barely felt a thing as Rebecca placed the lenses into Ally's eyes.

"Now take a look."

"I don't even recognize myself."

"That's the idea. You can be anyone you want, Ally. And you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. There are many ways to get people to do what you want. Sex is one of them, but I find that seduction, anticipation, and misdirection are even more powerful." Rebecca opened one of the vanity drawers and held up a small vial between her thumb and index fingers. "A drop of this powerful sedative is enough to knock out an elephant. I find it's always useful to have a back-up plan."

Ally nodded gratefully and slid the vial into her purse. The idea of knocking Platt out seemed much more alluring than seducing him.

"And here's a little something that might come in handy too." Rebecca lifted a small perfume bottle. "It's an experimental product, a mixture of pheromones that the agency's research department's been tinkering with to increase attraction of the opposite sex—"

"Wait a minute," Ally cut in, "do you mean to tell me that if I spray this on me men will be falling all over me? I've seen this stuff on infomercials and there was this movie . . . What was it called? Oh, yes, _Love Potion No. 9_!"

Rebecca chuckled. "Not exactly. Although the agency would be delighted to have a substance like that at its disposal. The product hasn't been perfected yet. It doesn't always work, but when it does, it's very powerful. I really don't think you'll need its help. You look stunning enough to catch any man's eye as it is, but it never hurts to have back-up."

"Hey, if it helps, I'm all for it." Ally placed the bottle into her purse. "Just one question," she paused, a little embarrassed. "If I use this substance, how do I make sure that Agent Morrissey won't be affected?"

A slight smile curved Rebecca's lips. "I wouldn't worry about it. The effect is only temporary: it wears off in about two hours. As a senior agent, Jake is aware that the use of pheromones is standard for this type of an assignment."

"Great. Thanks for the tip," Ally mumbled. Using a love potion to attract Platt was embarrassing enough in itself. She was relieved that at least she wouldn't have to discuss it with Jake.

"Now, just a few finishing touches." Rebecca reached for the makeup kit. She dusted some powder and blush over Ally's face and applied eye shadow, mascara, and eyeliner to her eyes. A coat of red lipstick came last. "Now I know that this is a bit much, but since you'll be going to an evening event, I think it'll be perfect."

Ally looked in the mirror. "Wow!" was all she could say.

"What kind of dress do you think she'd wear to a black tie affair?"

"Who?"

"The blonde in the mirror." Rebecca winked.

Ally thought for a moment. "A glamorous gown with a skirt that sweeps the floor. I'm thinking black or navy or maybe red."

Rebecca smiled approvingly. "I think you'll like the dresses we selected for you." She checked her watch. "Where's Delilah?" Rebecca muttered. "She was supposed to be here already. I sent her to pick up some dresses for you to try on," she explained to Ally.

"Delilah's working with you?"

"She's helping me on some projects," Rebecca explained vaguely. "While we're waiting, there's something else that I wanted to give you."

Just then there was a knock on the door.

"That must be her." Rebecca went to open the door.

"Hi, sorry I'm late." Delilah stumbled inside. She had several gowns on one of her arms and packages in the other. She carefully laid everything out on the chairs. "Hi, Ally!" She gave Ally a kiss on the cheek. "So excited about your new assignment! I know it's top secret and all," she added, noticing Rebecca's meaningful gaze. "Hope you like the dresses I picked. I've been to these types of events with gentlemen friends of mine and the ladies there really deck out."

Ally lifted the wrapping from one of the gowns and held up the hanger. "It's beautiful," she murmured, eyeing the midnight blue gown. It had a full-length chiffon skirt and a silk strapless bodice.

"So happy you like it!" Delilah rubbed her hands together with delight. "Just wait till you see the shoes!" She opened one of the boxes, lifting up a pair of dark navy stilettos with glittering heels. "Those are Swarovski crystals on the heels," she pointed out.

"I love them!" Ally exclaimed, forgetting for a minute the reason behind all this glamour. "I'm going to try them on."

"But wait, there's more," Delilah stopped Ally. "I wasn't sure what's your favorite color or style, so I got a few other options." Delilah removed the wrapping from the other two dresses and held up the two gowns side by side. One was made of red silk with a peplum waist and the other was a black column-style dress. "The black is my least favorite one," Delilah admitted, "but I got it just in case you wanted something simple and classy. And I have the shoes and purses to match, too."

"They look amazing. I can't wait to try them on," Ally said.

"A beautiful dress is only half the picture. A lady must have undergarments," Delilah added with a wink. She opened another box and revealed a pale blue lace corset with a garter belt, and a similar one in black. There were several pairs of stockings with ornate lace, both in nude and black. "These corsets are the best—not only do they look great, but they also hold you in, in case you overindulge on hors d'oeuvres. I got several pairs of stockings just in case; they rip all the time."

The sight of the lacey corsets made Ally gasp. She had promised Marion that she'd do whatever it took to complete the job, but she sincerely hoped that Blaine Platt would never get to see her in her underwear, no matter how ornate or beautiful it was. "I think I might need your help to get into these."

Ally headed behind the screen. In her heart she already knew that she was going to pick the midnight blue dress, but she decided to try the black one first, saving the best for last. With a little help from Delilah, Ally got into the corset and the stockings, and tried all of the three dresses one by one. They all agreed that the midnight blue gown was the winner. Ally put on the matching shoes and eyed her reflection in the full-length mirror. For a moment she felt like a princess, but even that momentary slip was enough for her to mentally chastise herself. She couldn't afford to forget that she wasn't going to a ball and there would be no Prince Charming waiting for her to sweep her off her feet.

"I almost forgot—can you do ballroom?" Rebecca asked.

"What's that?" Ally asked, worried it was some kind of crazy sex trick she had to master in order to conquer Blaine Platt's attention.

"You know, ballroom dancing? Foxtrot, waltz, the rhumba," Delilah explained.

"Yes, I can do it. I'm pretty good actually," Ally assured them. As a little girl she used to love watching ballroom dancing competitions on TV, and her dad got her dance lessons. She continued to take them on and off until college. She didn't have many opportunities to use her dance skills in real life, except for a few black-tie events Ron had taken her to. His foxtrot and waltz moves were basic at best. Little by little she had given up on her hobby, but she still remembered the steps, and with a little practice she was sure it would all come back to her. It was time to put on her dancing shoes.

# Chapter 18

The next morning at work Ally shifted in her chair as she nervously checked her watch. She had a meeting with Instructor Morrissey—correction, Agent Morrissey—in less than five minutes. To say that she was nervous would be an understatement of grand proportions. She was shaking like a leaf. She'd gone over Platt's file so many times that she had practically memorized it by heart, and she had done her own research on him as well. Ordinarily she would've felt that she was well-prepared for the meeting, but the fact that Jake Morrissey was going to be her partner made her stomach weak and her legs shaky. How was she ever going to get through this?

Ally pushed back her chair, grabbed her files and headed for the conference room she'd reserved for her meeting with Jake.

"Ally," Jake Morrissey greeted her, rising from his chair abruptly. By the looks of it, he must've been in the conference room for hours: files and papers were piled high on the table. "I thought I'd get an early start," he added, motioning at the files.

"Instructor Morrissey," Ally blurted out and wanted to bite her tongue.

"It's Agent Morrissey now, but please call me Jake."

"Jake," Ally repeated, swallowing hard. "I look forward to working with you on this case." She plunked her files on the desk and took a seat across the table from him. She didn't trust herself to be too close to him. This was a work meeting, but she couldn't help noticing how dashing he looked in his tailored gray suit. Back at the training facility he'd sported khakis and polo shirts, but now looked like an advertisement for Brooks Brothers.

"I'm glad to hear it, Ally," Jake said with some reluctance. "Platt has been on our radar for some time. And now we finally have the opportunity to get close to him."

"Marion briefed me on the situation, and I've done additional research on my own," Ally offered, attributing Jake's reticence to fatigue. He must've been working non-stop to amass the numerous files now spread over the table. "Platt owns Infinity Capital, which is one of the largest service providers to nuclear plants. As you know, Infinity Capital took over Roberts Enterprises after bankruptcy proceedings and offered to complete all of Roberts' projects at cost, including rebuilding all Pollux plants that were affected by failures in Roberts' maintenance. What sets Platt apart from his competition is that his company has two arms, servicing and financing. Smaller plants often contract with Infinity because even though their prices may be steeper, Platt wins them over with financing options, whereas banks had turned them down. Of course there's always a catch: his lending terms are very aggressive and many companies have difficulties meeting them. Just imagine if Infinity Capital was a monopoly. They'd stand to make astronomical profits." Ally paused, catching her breath. She wanted Jake to see that she was prepared. The grave, almost stern expression on his face was not at all the reaction she expected.

"Excellent work, Ally. I can see that you've done your research," Jake uttered belated praise, noticing her astounded stare. "However, as your former instructor I have to tell you that you're not ready for this assignment. It was my intention to speak with Marion and ask her to reassign you, but I wanted to speak with you first."

Ally felt her face grow hot. Jake Morrissey no longer seemed handsome to her. She hated the smug expression on his face and the stiff way he sat in his chair, all buttoned up in his suit. Who the hell did he think he was to judge her? Yeah, sure he had years of seniority over her, but that didn't make him the boss. She pressed her lips together, determined to keep her cool. "I appreciate your concerns, Jake, but Marion obviously thought me qualified for this assignment and I intend to follow through with it."

Jake clenched the right fingers of his hand into a fist so tight that his knuckles turned white. "Marion doesn't give a rat's ass about you, Ally," he spoke in a low, controlled tone. "All she cares about is her damn cases, and she'll stop at nothing to get her leads. She knows you'll do anything to be on this case because of your personal history, and she's throwing you to the wolves. You're going to be eaten up alive and spit out and she won't give a damn."

Ally could literally feel Jake's harsh words take the wind out of her, but she forced herself not to budge. "If you're trying to intimidate me, Jake, you're doing a very lousy job of it. I knew what I signed up for when I took this job and I'm not about to back down now. You're damn right I have a personal history that ties me to this case. Somebody killed my father with lies and accusations, destroying everything he stood for." She noticed the alarmed look on Jake's face. He didn't look so tough now. "Don't stare at me as though I'm crazy," she snapped. "My father didn't die of a heart attack. He died because everything he ever worked for was smeared with filthy, searing lies, and he simply didn't have the will to go on. I will find the bastard who did it and I will make him pay. Now I don't know if Platt was behind the lies that destroyed my father, but I sure as hell will not back down till I find out for sure." She stared Jake down. She was done being the nice, obedient girl.

"I can see how emotional you are about this assignment, Agent Roberts, which only adds to the list of reasons I already have to remove you from the case. I'm going to make my recommendation to Marion today."

"What makes you think that she'll listen to you?"

"Because as your former instructor I have the authority to re-evaluate your training test scores."

"But I graduated with flying colors," Ally gasped. "You gave me an A."

"I've gone over your file and there appear to be some discrepancies, a suspicion of cheating. And if you read the code of ethics, you are aware that cheating is a very grave offense, punishable by dismissal from the training program and withdrawal of offer of employment."

"So is lying. Marion will never believe you."

"Try me." Jake groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Look, Ally, I'm not trying to be some tight ass, ruining your chances. I'm trying to protect you. This is a very dangerous job and I don't want you to get hurt. I don't think I could survive it—" he broke off.

Ally looked up, stunned by Jake's emotional reaction. She felt her anger drain away. "I know," she said. "And I appreciate it. But I've been through my share of beatings and I've been hurt plenty. I promise you that I will follow your instructions within reason, and I won't let you down. I'm prepared to do this. I want to do this. I have nothing to lose and all I care about is this job."

"You have your life to lose, Ally," Jake breathed out. "I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you." His face pale, he rose from his chair and staggered out of the room.

***

Back in her cubicle, Ally contemplated what to do next. She had been nervous about her meeting with Jake, but she had never anticipated him reacting the way he did. It had hurt her to hear him say that she wasn't ready for the job and she had firmly stood her ground, letting him know that she wouldn't be pushed around. Now, in retrospect, she knew that she had made a mistake. Jake had seniority over her and she had overstepped her boundaries, way overstepped them. While giving in to her emotions had felt good for a moment, it hadn't achieved anything. She wanted this assignment desperately. If she were going to be good at this job, she had to learn to be more patient. She briefly contemplated reaching out to Marion, but rejected the idea. She didn't want Marion to see her as a crybaby or, worse, take Jake's side and reassign her. What Ally needed was to convince Jake that she was capable of doing this job.

Twenty minutes later Ally knocked on Jake's office door. In her hand she had a tray with two doughnuts and coffees. Those weren't just any old doughnuts, but freshly made beignets from a French bakery around the corner. It was a simple plan and she hoped it would work.

"Come in," Jake's brisk voice carried through the door.

"Hi," Ally said, standing in the doorway.

"Hi, Ally," Jake greeted her, rising so abruptly that he almost knocked his chair over.

"May I come in?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, by all means." He began to hastily gather the papers from his desk.

She sat down, placing the tray on his desk.

"Ally, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted during our meeting—" he began but she cut him short.

"Jake, I'm the one who should be apologizing. You are a senior agent and the lead on this case. I let my emotions get the better of me and I was way out of line. You were right, this case is personal to me, but I'd like to assure you that I won't let my emotions get in the way again. I will work twice as hard to prove to you that I'm capable of doing whatever it takes to complete this assignment. If I may say so, I think that you're a top agent and I have so much to learn from you. I would like to have the opportunity to work on this case with you."

A reluctant smile appeared on Jake's lips. "Flattery will get you everywhere," he said as he lifted a cup from the tray. "And I like your peace offering," he added, biting into the doughnut.

"I was being sincere, sir. I will do whatever it takes to earn your trust."

Jake remained silent for a few moments and Ally wondered if she had overdone it.

"It was never a question of your competence or my trust in you, Ally, because you have them both," Jake said softly. "It's a matter of my own competence and confidence," he added glumly. "I'm going to lay the cards out on the table and let you decide whether you still want to be my partner afterwards. I've seen your file and I think it's only fair that you know my history. About a year ago I was put on an assignment and there was an incident," he paused, taking a deep breath. "An innocent woman died. Although my name was cleared, I hold myself responsible for her death. Without giving too much detail about the case specifics, which are still confidential, I can tell you that she was close to someone I was investigating and I used her as a source. When she was discovered, she paid for it with her life."

Ally took a deep breath. By the expression on Jake's face Ally could tell how difficult it was for him to share his painful past with her. To say that his words didn't shock her would be a lie. She knew that this job was no walk in the park, but she'd never thought of death as a possible threat. So Jake had been right after all: she had a lot to learn. Still, that didn't mean that she'd be backing out. If anything, realization of the danger ahead only made her more determined.

"I appreciate your sharing this with me," Ally said slowly.

A bitter smile appeared on Jake's face. "You're welcome, Ally. Now do you still want to be my partner?"

"More than anything."

"I would've never thought you had a death wish," he muttered.

Ally didn't miss the destructive tone in Jake's voice. He was haunted by his past and he had to put it behind him. Up until now Jake's emotional baggage was his own burden to carry, but now it concerned her and Ally would be damned if she let it jeopardize their mission. "I don't know all the specifics of the case you described and I hope that you won't think me inappropriate for saying this, but the agency obviously thinks that you're innocent or you wouldn't be working here. Marion thought we'd be a good team and I don't intend to disappoint her."

Jake scowled. "I told you how Marion thinks. She doesn't care about you or me. She only cares about results."

"Exactly. Because it's the only thing that matters. Look, this may be my only chance to find out who ruined my father and I don't intend to lose it. Now you can sit here and obsess over your mistakes and regrets or you can put your head back in the game and do something useful for a change, like help stop a monopoly from happening."

The look of glumness was replaced by curiosity on Jake's face. "I think I've misjudged you, Ally. You're much tougher than you look."

"I have to be. I'm the only one I can count on."

He cleared his throat. "You can count on me, Ally. Now let's get to work."

# Chapter 19

Ally felt a chill on her shoulders from the air-conditioning, and tightened her silk wrap around her.

"Don't be nervous," Jake whispered into her ear, squeezing her hand.

Her heart jolted from his warm, firm touch. "I'm not," she whispered. "Just a little chilly."

"Would you like some champagne?" he offered.

She shook her head. "I'm fine, thanks." She couldn't risk losing her concentration.

Ignoring her refusal, he lifted two champagne flutes from a passing server's tray. "It'd be a shame to let Dom Perignon go to waste." He winked and handed her a glass. "Go ahead, it'll help you relax."

"I'm relaxed," she hissed. "I just don't want to get too relaxed." She was lying, of course. Inside she was coiled as tightly as a compressed spring. Tonight was the night of the charity gala and her only chance to get close to Platt.

Over the past two weeks she and Jake had worked nonstop to prepare; they'd come up with aliases and practiced their respective personas. Ally had had several sessions with Rebecca, learning the intricate secrets required to succeed at her assignment. Based on Platt's preferences in women, they created a character most likely to get Platt's attention. Ally lived in her character's skin: she worked on her walk and posture, her accent and conversation topics. Ally even wore the blond wig at home to get used to it. She studied Blaine Platt's file inside out, trying to understand what made him tick. She'd felt ready, but now she was shaking like a leaf. If she blew it, she'd never get a do-over.

She scanned the crowd. So far she hadn't spotted Blaine Platt. She wondered if Platt had changed his plans and decided not to attend. The cocktail hour was coming to an end and the ceremony would begin shortly. It was a charity gala for the Modern Museum of Art. The top floor of the museum had been transformed into a ballroom, with banquet tables framing the floor. There was a live orchestra, complete with a cellist and a harpist, filling the air with Vivaldi's Four Seasons. Apparently Platt was a huge supporter of modern art. Who would've guessed that someone capable of destroying a man's life could have artistic sensibilities? She pushed her bitter thoughts away. After all, she didn't have concrete proof against Blaine Platt. Not yet.

Suddenly Ally felt something inside her tense. It was a subconscious ominous feeling and she had no idea where it was coming from. She looked around and cringed—Ronald Graystone was standing a few feet away from her. She clenched the champagne glass tightly, consuming its contents in one gulp. If Ron recognized her, everything would be over.

"Bottoms up." Jake clinked his glass against her empty one and took a long swallow. "Now doesn't that feel better?"

"Yes, it does," Ally replied absent-mindedly, wondering if hiding behind the bar stand would be too obvious a move. She risked another glance at Ron. More bad news. He was standing with a group of four people, two of which were his parents, Viola and Richard Graystone. The fourth member of the group, a tall girl of Ally's age, stood next to him. By the proprietary way in which she placed her arm on his, it was clear that they were a couple. She had a petite shapely body and light blond hair that framed a face with a button nose and light blue eyes. Ron must've said something very funny because the girl laughed and lifted her head back like someone who didn't have a care in the world. Just then Ron turned around and Ally cringed. His gaze swept the room, passing right through her. Ron took the woman's hand and headed into the ballroom. "Come on, Annette. Let's find our seats," he said to the blonde, placing his hand on her waist as he passed right by Ally without giving his ex-fiancée so much as a second look.

Ally didn't know whether to be elated or devastated. Annette. Annette Beale. She was Ron's high school sweetheart, the one who cheated on him and broke his heart. Now they were back together as though Ally had never existed.

"Isn't it wonderful, Richard? Just look how wonderful they are together! I'm so relieved that that nasty business with that Roberts girl is finally behind us." Viola Graystone's sharp, dry voice carried into Ally's ear as Viola passed by, leaning on Richard Graystone's arm.

"Yes indeed, Viola. Those two do make a nice couple," Richard Graystone confirmed.

"And now that Madison is all set to marry Skip, I couldn't be happier." Viola dabbed at her eyes with her gloved hand.

"Now, now, dear, you mustn't get too emotional." Mr. Graystone patted his wife's hand. "I see the museum's treasurer right over there. We must make a good impression. I hear they are in search of a new law firm to handle their affairs."

Richard and Viola Graystone disappeared into the crowd. Ally bit her lip to make sure that she was awake. She could scarcely believe what just happened. People who had been on the verge of becoming her family had walked right by her as though she didn't exist. At least now she could stop worrying about the effectiveness of her disguise—it was clearly bulletproof. Indeed, when she'd checked her reflection in the mirror before leaving for the night, she was stunned by the blonde vamp who stared back at her from the mirror. She clearly had the appearance part down, and now she needed the guts to go with it. It was time to put her past behind her. Seeing Ron with another woman had hurt, but only for a moment. What it really did was settle her. Any attachment she had held to her past was now gone. When she had first returned from the training, Ally had tried to keep in touch with Maddie through email, but Maddie's replies were few and far between until they stopped completely. Ally had felt guilty about losing touch with Maddie, thinking that the secret nature of her job and her inability to speak openly about it was partially to blame, but now she knew that she needn't have. Maddie might've been a rebellious spirit, but she too had fallen under her mother's firm grip. The Graystones belonged to a different world, a world of which Ally would never be a part of. No matter what she did, she could never change that. It was time to say goodbye. Ally signaled to a passing waiter and took two glasses of champagne off his tray.

"To tonight," she said with a smile, handing one of the glasses to Jake.

"I see you're starting to enjoy yourself." He smiled, but his eyes were serious, focused on her.

His concern wasn't lost on her. "I'm fine," she assured him. "Just enjoying the party."

Just then there was the sound of a gong announcing seating for dinner. "Shall we?" Jake asked, offering his arm to her.

"Thank you." She wrapped her arm around his and followed him.

Jake moved swiftly through the crowd and for a moment Ally let herself enjoy the sensation of male closeness. Jake looked so handsome in his tuxedo. Ally felt like a princess in the beautiful gown of midnight blue silk Rebecca and Delilah had selected for her. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget that the gown was provided by the agency and so was probably Jake's tuxedo. What if this was a real date? How wonderful it would be to have a strong, caring man in her life. Her body surged with electricity as Jake pulled her closer to him.

"Sorry about that," he muttered. "For the kind of money this place is charging per ticket they sure packed everyone in like sardines. I sure hope Platt shows up or this carnival would've been for nothing."

"It's all right," Ally replied coolly, waking up from her dream. This was no fairy tale and she was no princess.

Once they reached their table, Jake, being the perfect gentleman, pulled out her chair for her. She thanked him and sat down. This time she didn't allow herself to be distracted by Jake's courtesy; all of her senses were honed on locating Blaine Platt in the room.

An announcer appeared on the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight's charity gala. It warms my heart to see so many supporters of our cause. As you know, all the proceeds from the ticket sales will benefit the museum. I would like to express my gratitude to you all. I hope that your support will not stop there. As you know, we have an auction planned for the second part of the evening with artworks by famous artists. All the proceeds from the auction will benefit the museum. I hope that you will enjoy the event and will leave here with wonderful works of art that will no doubt enrich your homes. And now, I would like to introduce one of our most generous donors and organizer of tonight's event, Mr. Blaine Platt."

Ally's hand froze with a fork hovering over the appetizer she was about to try as she watched Blaine Platt approach the podium. She'd read in Platt's file that he was a fitness fanatic, and it showed in the way he carried himself. He moved quickly and effortlessly, as though ready to spring into a jog at any moment.

Applause filled the room as Platt sprinted up the podium. He smiled and bowed in acknowledgement.

"Thank you, thank you all so much for your wonderfully warm welcome," he began. Just like all the men in the room he was dressed in a tuxedo, but Platt's fit his lean body with unmatched preciseness. His dark hair was cropped closely to his face and his light blue eyes swept through the room with steely control. He was clearly used to speaking in front of large audiences. "This world is full of ugliness and pain, but art makes it bearable," Platt paused, his cool eyes sweeping the room.

Ally lowered her eyes to avoid the unlikely chance of Platt's gaze intercepting hers. She couldn't believe the man's nerve. She could list countless examples of Platt mercilessly forcing out his competition. It went without saying that competition was part of being in business, but colluding to force out small companies that were a fraction of Infinity Capital's size was not competition, it was ruthlessness. No wonder the world was full of ugliness and pain. Men like Blaine Platt made it that way.

"Art is balm for the soul," Platt continued. "It is what makes us human. I will not bore you with a long speech tonight. We've got a wonderful evening planned for you. I hope that you will enjoy dinner and dancing, but most importantly I hope that you will keep your bids high and purses open for the auction part of the program. Have a wonderful evening, everybody." With a quick wave of his hand Blaine Platt left the podium and headed to his table, at which he was greeted by two models. He planted a long kiss on each one of them in turn, tilting them back on his arm so far that their blond manes almost touched the floor.

Ally ran her fingers over her wig. Perhaps she should've gone for long hair after all.

Jake gave a low whistle. "Now there's a man who understands subtlety."

"Really," said one of the elderly ladies at their table. She was seated to Jake's left. Her white hair had been teased into a puffy cloud that towered over her face.

"Pardon me," Jake apologized.

"You needn't apologize. I agree with you," the elderly lady continued. "Despite Mr. Platt's generous contributions, the man is quite vulgar."

Vulgar was the least of it, Ally thought, wondering how on earth she was going to commandeer Platt's attention.

The orchestra started playing a waltz and couples filled the dance floor. "Shall we?" Jake offered his arm to Ally.

"Yes," she replied breathlessly.

Jake led her to the dance floor. He took her hand in his, placing his other hand on the small of her back. Ally resisted a gasp. It was the first time she was this close to him and she couldn't say that she didn't like the sensation. She looked up into his eyes, feeling his hard, muscular body next to hers. His feet moved lightly as he swept her around the floor.

"You're a wonderful dancer," he said.

"And so are you," she replied.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?"

"I used to love ballroom dancing as a kid. My dad got me dance lessons. I can't say that I've had many chances to practice until now." She looked up at him, studying his face. She'd never seen him this up close before. Her eyes traveled up his strong jaw line and chin to his sensual lips and his straight nose that was perfectly proportioned to the rest of his face, to his gray eyes that locked on hers.

"Did I tell you that you look stunning as a blonde?" he asked, smiling.

"No, you didn't. Thank you. I keep thinking I should've opted for long hair though. I'm not sure if Platt is going to go for it."

His arm tensed. "I don't want you to take any risks, Ally."

She nodded. "You needn't worry. I won't. Besides, you'll be the first to know if anything goes wrong." On her dress she had a flower pin that had a tiny microphone mounted in it. Jake had a wireless receiver for the microphone. Once Ally got close to Platt, all Jake had to do was plug it into his ear and he'd hear everything.

"What if there won't be enough time for me to get to you?" he worried. "That man's got no principles. He's ruthless and vile—"

"Yes, he's a ruthless and vile businessman, but he's still human. I can figure out what makes him tick and that'll get us the information we need." _The information I need_ , she thought. If what she suspected of Platt were true, he'd never see the light of day again.

"If anything happens to you, I'll never be able to forgive myself."

"Nothing will happen," she assured him, moved by his concern. His voice sounded like that of a man moved beyond his work duty. Could it be that Jake really cared for her?

The music ended and for a moment Ally remained standing close to him, frozen in a dance embrace.

"Thank you for a wonderful dance," he said with a slight bow. "Excuse me for a just a moment."

Stunned by the change in his tone she merely blinked in acknowledgement. Her eyes opened wide when she saw Jake make a beeline for one of Platt's blondes. What the hell was he doing?

Just then the cords of tango filled the air and Ally found herself standing alone on the dance floor. This was humiliating. She had to save her face before Platt could spot her.

"May I have this dance?" a male voice startled her.

Ally turned around and saw Blaine Platt standing next to her. "It would be my pleasure," she replied with a well-practiced Southern drawl.

"I beg to differ," he replied, taking her hand. "I think the pleasure will be all mine."

Ally willed herself not to recoil from Platt's cool grip. His dry hand felt like that of a lizard's. He was a good dancer, but his moves were perfunctory and mechanical in nature.

"I couldn't help noticing how your boyfriend abandoned you," Platt observed. "I must say he has rather poor taste, foregoing a diamond for cubic zirconia like that."

"You're too kind!"

"Oh, no. I'm merely stating the truth."

"You mustn't be so hard on poor Russell," Ally cited Jake's alias they'd previously agreed upon. "He's not my boyfriend—chaperone's more like it. You see, my daddy wants to keep tabs on me at all times and he got poor Russell here to do his bidding. When your boss tells you to take his daughter out, you take his daughter out, right? Meanwhile poor Russell's been told to keep his hands off me under the threat of having his balls cut off. Such a chore for the poor fella."

"I'd hardly call it a chore, my dear. An adventure is more like it. Love isn't for the faint of heart."

"Yes, but you forget that Russell isn't in love with me."

"I don't how that could be humanly possible, but that's his loss. And what is it your father does, if I may ask?"

"Ask away. I've got nothing to hide. My daddy's in the oil business. R.J. Malone is his name. Ain't anyone in Texas who hasn't heard of R.J. Malone."

"And you are?"

"Emily Malone," Ally said, giving Platt the alias she'd been assigned. "But you can call me Millie. All my friends call me Millie."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Emily is such a beautiful name," Platt said, dipping her.

Ally followed his lead, swallowing hard. Blaine Platt was nimble and unpredictable in his movements, almost snakelike. Even his tongue seemed to sliver between his lips like that of a serpent. Ally's intuition told her that he'd be a very dangerous man to cross.

"And what is it that you do, Emily?"

"I just got my degree in art history. I love art. I want to work as a curator in a museum, but my daddy doesn't approve. He wants me to settle down and marry someone who could take over the family business. I convinced him to let me come down here to see this show. He said that if I could get a job, I could stay. I was hoping I'd meet some contacts who'd help me, gave a hefty donation too. I'd rather work for the Metropolitan Museum, but any museum in New York would do for starters. So far I've come up flat. You're the only person who's talked to me all evening."

Platt eyed her cleavage. "I don't believe it for a second."

"Believe it. Everyone here seems so stuffy and unfriendly."

"Don't despair. I might be able to help. We have a lot in common. I love art too. Who's your favorite artist?"

"I love Italian masters—Tintoretto, Titian, Veronese, Botticelli."

"You make those stiffs sounds so sexy with your accent," Platt remarked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me. A modern girl like you, I pictured you more as a modern art fan. Impressionism at the latest, but Renaissance? Sure, it's played its purpose, but you can't compare those archaic paintings to the life and beauty of modern art."

"I don't agree with you. I think Titian is mesmerizing and Botticelli is breathtaking."

"I think that you need to step into the present. You're at the Museum of Modern Art, after all."

"I have a degree in art history, remember?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that you can't enjoy the present. I find de Kooning, O'Keeffe, and Pollock much more stimulating."

"Those are unquestionably very important painters, but you can't compare two different time periods and claim that one surpasses the other."

"I disagree."

"You're entitled to your opinion."

An amused smile flickered on Platt's thin lips. "You're a firecracker."

Just then the music ended. "Thank you for a wonderful dance," Ally said. Her head was literally spinning from juggling all the famous painters and the tango moves.

"You're not going to get away from me that easily. It isn't often that I meet a woman who is both beautiful and intelligent." Platt's eyes flashed. "And that perfume you're wearing is simply tantalizing," he added, his lips almost brushing her neck.

The love potion Rebecca had given Ally had to be working. It was either that or Ally had managed to mesmerize Platt with her conversation skills, and somehow she was inclined to attribute his fascination with her to the former. "Thank you, but I really must be getting to my table," she said, knowing that refusal was bound to only intensify his interest.

"Just a moment. I'd like a chance to reform you."

"To reform me?"

"Yes, I'm convinced that with the right presentation you could come to appreciate modern art."

"What do you have in mind?"

"How about dinner at my place? We will be chaperoned," Platt said hurriedly. "I'll have housekeeping staff there, so your virtue will be completely safe."

"For a man with such modern taste you sound pretty old-fashioned."

"I just didn't want to offend your traditional Southern values, but I'm a very private man, so I'd much rather dine in my house instead of parading around in some restaurant. This way we can both be sure that our faces will not appear on the front page of some tabloid the next day."

"You must be very famous. My daddy is well-known in Texas, so the local papers are always speculating as to who it is I'm seeing, but in New York no one knows me."

"I wish I had your luxury. Heavy is the head that wears the crown."

"You seem to manage. But now I really must be going or Russell will tell my father, and I won't be able to make that dinner date with you."

"Saturday, seven o'clock?"

"That works."

"My chauffeur will pick you up. Where are you staying?"

"That won't be necessary. I'll get a cab. It'll be less conspicuous this way. We don't want to alarm Russell."

"I thought he is only your chaperone, not your boyfriend?"

"For someone who just met me you're asking a whole lot of questions. You're going to take all the newness out of it." Noticing the irked expression on Platt's face, Ally added, "Yes, he is only my chaperone, nothing else."

"Good. I don't like sharing. Here's my card. It has the address." Platt took her hand and pressed it to his lips. "Until Saturday then. I have some business to attend to, so I won't be able to stay for the rest of evening."

"Looking forward to it."

Calmly, Ally headed to her seat. Inside she was shivering with excitement. She did it; she actually carried it off and now she had a date with Platt.

***

Once the evening was finally over (even though Platt had left, Ally and Jake had stayed for the entire event for appearances' sake) and they were in their limo, Ally shot Jake an excited glace. "That went pretty well, don't you think?"

He moved further away from her on the seat. "I think you took too many risks. It was way too dangerous. You're not actually thinking of following through with it?"

"Of course I'm going to follow through with it. Wasn't that our mission? To get close to Platt? Well I did it. I got close to him."

"You talked about art and flirted. You didn't talk at all about his business."

"Excuse me! I just met the man. I didn't want to scare him off. Give it time. I'll get it out of him."

"Do you really think that Platt has invited you to his place for a nice chat over dinner?"

"I'm sure he'll be the perfect gentleman, which is a whole lot more than I could say about you right now. The least you could do is tell me that I did a good job."

"Great job, Ally. I hope you'll enjoy sleeping with him too."

Ally felt her face burn. "What makes you think that I'm going to sleep with him?"

"What do you think he expects? I heard the entire conversation. He's invited you to his house for dinner. Alone. Do you think he wants to play Monopoly with you?"

Ally wondered if Jake was jealous. Could it be that he cared? That the thought of her being with another man was torture for him? She felt instant guilt realizing that the possibility of it being true pleased her. There wasn't anything to be pleased about. Jake was right. She was in a whole lot of hot water, but that didn't mean that she was going to admit it. "I'm not going to sleep with Platt, Jake. I'll find other ways to get him to talk. I'll play the Southern belle card—it's bound to buy me a couple of nights—"

"You mean you plan to see him more than once?"

"I plan to do whatever it takes to complete this assignment."

His face darkened. "If that's what you want, I won't be in your way."

"I'll tell you what I want. I want to nail the bastard who ruined my father—that's what I want more than anything. But what I want is irrelevant. I've been put on this assignment and I promised Marion that I'd do my best to complete it and that's what I intend to do. If it doesn't agree with your moral compass, I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"I'm sure Marion will love to hear that. You've turned out to be the perfect pupil. I just hope that you didn't bite off more than you can swallow. If you would've just held your horses, I could've gotten close to one of his girls. We could've gotten the information that way."

"Wait a minute, so it's okay for you to use your charms on a woman, but it's not okay for me to do the same thing with a man?"

"Damn right it is. I'm a guy. I'm not as vulnerable—"

"Vulnerable? Is that what you think of me? I'll have you know that I'm a lot less vulnerable than you think. I wouldn't have made it through this year if I was vulnerable. Now my objective is to successfully complete this assignment, and I hope that as my partner you'll support me."

# Chapter 20

The next morning at work, Ally sat at her desk with a terrible headache. Being out late last night and fighting with Jake afterwards didn't do much for her disposition or looks. She felt cranky and irritable, with dark circles under her eyes to complete the picture. Today was Thursday, which left her very little time to prepare for her date with Blaine Platt. The prospect of spending the evening with him alone was terrifying to say the least, but she'd made her bed and now she might literally have to lie in it. Right now she really wished she could talk things over with her partner, but she wasn't about to go over and apologize to Jake.

Just then her phone rang. Her heart jumped. Could it be Jake? Instead it was Doug Cleary's name on the caller ID. Her heart jumped again, but this time for a different reason.

"Hey there, Doug."

"Hey," Doug's voice was serious. "I've got some very interesting news for you. Can you stop by the lab?"

"Can't you tell me over the phone?"

"It'll be more interesting if I can show you."

"I'll be right there."

Ally hurried to the elevator bank, impatient to hear Doug's news.

A few minutes later she reached her destination. "Hi," she greeted Doug breathlessly, her gaze burrowing into him for clues.

"Have a seat." Doug motioned at a chair next to his desk.

She plopped into the chair impatiently. "How did the test results come out?" Right after Ally had been put on Platt's assignment, she'd gone to Marion and come clean about her suspicions. Marion had authorized Ally's request to reach out to all the impacted Pollux plants for unused equipment parts that had remained from Roberts Enterprises' maintenance project and have the parts tested for deficiencies. Ally had received the parts last week and had given them to Doug to test. She hadn't told Jake about any of this. First she wanted to make sure that her theory held water.

"I was working around the clock. Thankfully I was given two interns to help with spectrographic analysis."

"Two interns? I thought you were going to keep this confidential."

"This is confidential. I went through official channels to request additional staff and my request was granted. I have a life too, you know. I was here twelve hours a day all of last week. You didn't exactly volunteer to help."

"I'm sorry. I'm just worried about this leaking out."

"Don't worry. All the interns did was go through the motions—they didn't know where the parts came from or what the analysis was for."

"So what did you find?"

"I was about to get to that point," Doug snapped, "but you keep interrupting me."

"Sorry."

"You did it again."

This time Ally held her mouth shut. The wait was excruciating.

"We x-rayed all the spare parts. With the exception of radiation hardened chips, all the equipment tested was in compliance with required specs."

"So the radiation hardened chips were faulty? All of them?"

"Would you let me finish? We performed a spectrographic analysis on the radiation hardened chips and found that just as with the previous sample, the alloy used was subpar and would not withstand the radiation levels the equipment was meant to endure."

Ally closed her eyes. Why couldn't this have been discovered during her father's trial? All those lawyers who'd billed hundreds of thousands of dollars for their useless services while they failed to save her father.

"Ally, are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She got up from her chair and gave Doug a hug. "Thank you. I wish we had you on my dad's defense team. He might still be alive."

Doug shrugged. "This is pretty technical stuff. Most lawyers wouldn't know about this."

"But they claimed they hired the best possible industry experts to help with technical matters. When I told them to keep looking, they wouldn't listen to me. They thought I was just a child, a spoiled brat."

"You're anything but a brat, Ally, and you're not a child. Most people would've given up by now, but you followed through on your gut feelings and you got the answer you were looking for."

"A partial answer. We still need more proof. The manufacturer for these parts was Zigger Solutions. My dad had been dealing with them for years. They were a pretty small-sized operation, but it was part of the reason my dad liked them. He felt he got more dedicated service that way. The owner, Sam Zigger, came to our house for dinner—I remember meeting him. He was such a nice man . . . He retired about five years ago and his son Kyle took over. There weren't any problems until now. This just doesn't add up. Are you sure that this couldn't have been a mistake?"

Doug shook his head. "I doubt it. The specs are standardized. In order to manufacture these chips, a different type of alloy was used on purpose."

"How would Zigger profit by taking down my dad? He was their biggest client; unless someone asked them to manufacture these chips. Someone who stood to gain a great deal from it. It'd had to have been an astronomical amount of money for Zigger to agree, considering the risk."

"I guess you'll have a chance to question him soon enough," Doug offered. "I'd say you have enough evidence here to send an official inquiry to Zigger and examine his manufacturing facilities."

Ally shook her head. "Not yet. I don't want to tip them off."

"Whom?"

"Whoever it was that asked Zigger to make these chips. I don't want to give them time to prepare. I need to get more information first."

"You know where to find me if you need my help."

"Thanks Doug. I'll be sure to tell Marion about the amazing job that you did."

Doug whistled. "Marion's involved in this?"

"Yes. I can't tell you more, but hopefully soon I'll have the whole picture."

"Good luck. Hope you'll find the answers you're looking for."

***

Back at her desk, Ally brooded over her recent discovery. The agency had a state of the art background search system. One of the first things she did when she returned from training was run numerous background searches on Sam and Kyle Zigger. She'd been looking for links between Zigger and her dad's competitors, but she didn't find anything. The initial test results that Doug had run for her told her that the search might have been incomplete and now she was sure of it. Somewhere, somehow there had to be a connection.

She logged into the database and started a new search on Kyle Zigger.

"Hello, Ally."

Ally slowly turned around at the sound of the familiar voice. "Hi, Jake."

He stepped inside her cubicle and leaned against the file cabinet next to her desk. "I figured you could use a cup." He held up a cardboard tray with two cups of coffee and handed her one. "Would you like a beignet?" he offered, pointing at the sugary sweets on the tray.

"I see you discovered my favorite snack place."

"You got me addicted."

Ally took a doughnut. "Thanks. I'm beat. I don't understand why they decided to have a benefit on a weeknight. Don't they realize that people have to work the next day?"

"The majority of people who were there don't have to worry about what time they show up at the office."

"You got a point there." She took a sip of her coffee and bit into the doughnut. "This is heaven."

"Ally, I want to apologize for the way I acted last night." Jake shifted on his feet. "I overreacted, but I want you to know that I only did that because I feel responsible for your safety."

She shook her head. "Let's skip the apology part. We all blow a fuse now and then. Besides, you've pretty much redeemed yourself." She pointed at the doughnut and the coffee.

He smiled. "Thanks for taking it easy on me."

"No problem." She fiddled with her coffee cup.

"What's up?" he asked, his eyes focused on her.

"I've hit a roadblock and I don't know what to do next."

"Can I help?"

"I hope so. You're my partner, right?"

"Try me."

Ally gave Jake a brief overview of what she had so far discovered with Doug's help and the background searches she had run on Zigger. "And now I'm stuck. I don't know what to do next."

"I must say this is excellent work," Jake commented. "Did you tell Marion about the latest test results?"

"Not yet. I'm worried she'll want to launch an official inquiry into Zigger, and I don't want to do that just yet. I don't want to give them extra time to pull together their defenses. The answer has to be in there somewhere. Once I find it, then we can nail Zigger and the bastard who ordered those chips from him."

"And you said you ran a search on both the father and son?"

Ally nodded. "I didn't find anything."

"What about their spouses?"

"I did that too, but I didn't find anything."

"Let me have another go at it. I'll let you know what I come up with."

"Thanks, sounds good. Meanwhile I'll do another search on the father and son."

***

"Any luck?"

Ally looked up from her computer, surprised to see Jake back so soon. Then she checked her watch and realized that she'd lost all track of time. It was almost five o'clock. "Nothing. You?"

"I think I might've found something."

"What is it?"

"Come on, let's get out of here. I'll tell you over dinner. Something tells me you've been glued to your desk all day."

Ally wanted to protest, but the grumbling in her stomach stopped her—the doughnut and the coffee Jake had brought her earlier had been her only meal for the day. "Okay. But I don't want to go anywhere far. I want to come back to the office afterwards."

"Did anyone tell you you're a workaholic? It isn't healthy, you know, or productive."

Twenty minutes later they were seated at a hamburger place a few blocks away from the office. It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner, so the place was almost empty. Jake had asked for a secluded booth all the way at the back of the restaurant so that they could talk.

"So are you finally going to tell me what you found?" Ally asked after they'd placed their orders.

"You're very impatient, Ally. Didn't anyone ever tell you that patience is a virtue?"

"And you're incredibly pedantic, Jake."

He grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment. I was an instructor—it goes with the territory."

"You weren't pedantic then. I found your lectures to be very straightforward and useful."

"Thank you."

"I see you enjoy torturing me. You probably made the whole thing up. I didn't find anything new, so I don't know how you could've."

"Did you see that Kyle Zigger got divorced about two years ago?"

"Yes, so? Neither of his wives had any connection to Blaine Platt."

"True. Zigger's first wife left him for infidelity and she got a handsome settlement. Zigger barely walked away with a shirt on his back."

Suddenly it dawned on Ally. How could she have missed such an important detail? "You mean to say that shows that Zigger had a need for extra cash and he was paid to manufacture those defective parts?"

"Bingo."

"It looks like I have a lot to learn. Thank you for doing this for me, Jake."

"We're partners, remember?"

"Yes, thank you. These days it's rare to have someone to rely on." Ally shook her head. "That bastard. I can't believe it. My father was Zigger's customer for years. He considered Sam Zigger to be his personal friend. He remained loyal to the company when Kyle took over the business. I'm sure if Zigger had asked my dad for money, he would've gladly helped him out. That backstabbing snake."

Jake touched her arm. "He and Blaine Platt, or whoever it was that paid Zigger off, won't get away with it."

"They already got away with it. My father is gone and so is everything he stood for."

"You can't bring your father back, but you can prove his innocence, Ally. And you can bring back his legacy."

She lowered her eyes. "What if I fail? I'm so scared, Jake. Every day I wake up with the same thought in my head. I'd sworn to find the bastards who ruined my father and make them answer for it, but what if I fail? I'm alone in this . . . and I'm scared."

"You're not alone, Ally. You've got me. And you already found the bastards you were looking for, so you're halfway there."

Ally smirked. "Who says that Platt and Zigger won't get away? So far we only have some circumstantial evidence."

"Those faulty chips aren't circumstantial and neither is the link between Kyle Zigger and Blaine Platt. There had to have been communications between them. I don't care how careful they were. People always slip up. All that we need to do now is close the loop so that Zigger and Platt can't weasel their way out."

Ally nodded. "Do you think Platt might keep records in his home? I'll try to scope it out when I'm there on Saturday."

Jake looked away, taking his arm off of hers. "So you're going through with this? You realize the danger involved? We could find other ways to get to him."

"I do, but I also know that you'll be watching my back. I'm willing to play with those odds."

"So be it. I've requested the architectural layout of Platt's townhouse. We should have it tomorrow. At least it'll help you to orient yourself quicker."

"Thanks, Jake. You're the best partner a girl could hope for."

"I don't know about that, but it looks like you're stuck with me anyway."

# Chapter 21

Ally checked her reflection in the mirror. For her evening with Blaine Platt she chose to wear a red, knee-length shift dress with a plunging neckline. On her feet she had black stilettos and underneath the dress she had the black corset that Delilah and Rebecca had recommended. She briefly touched the pavé crystal heart-shaped pendant on her neck, reminding herself not to repeat the gesture in front of Platt. Inside the pendant was a microphone, so that Jake would be able to hear everything that was transpiring and call for backup if necessary. The car was already waiting for her downstairs. It was time to get going; she didn't want to keep Platt waiting. She made sure her wig and her contact lenses were secure, took one last look at herself in the mirror, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door.

After the limousine driver had dropped her off by Platt's townhouse, Ally waited several seconds on the front step to collect her bearings and then rang the bell. The door opened almost instantly and a liveried footman ushered her inside.

"Mr. Platt is expecting you," he said even before Ally could introduce herself. "Please follow me."

Ally followed the footman inside the house; she was stunned by how large the place was. She'd seen the architectural drawings that Jake had been able to procure for her, but seeing the house in person was a different experience. The vaulted ceiling soared over her head at an enormous height, and an ornate futuristic device of a chandelier flooded the space with bright light; everywhere there was marble and steel in clean, minimalistic lines. They entered an enormous dining room. Here the lights were dimmed and there was a small dining table set up in the corner of the room. Ally looked around—this place was so huge that if she screamed no one would hear her. She felt grateful to Jake for insisting that she wear a microphone. Platt's place gave her the creeps, just like the man himself.

"Emily, I'm so glad you could make it," Platt greeted her, entering the room in slow, sweeping steps.

"Blaine! I must say that you startled me coming out of nowhere like that."

"Apologies, my dear. Startling you is the least of my intentions," he said, pressing her hand to his lips. "I hope you don't mind the small table. I thought we could use the space in case we decided to dance."

"I'm always up for dancing," Ally laughed, patting his arm. Inside she was so nervous she was nearly shaking.

"Shall we?" Platt gestured at the dinner table.

He pulled out the chair for her and waited for her to be seated. Just as they sat down, the lights grew brighter, revealing a piano in the corner. Four musicians quietly entered the room and took their seats in the corner.

"Don't you just love Verdi?" Platt asked.

"I adore him," Ally played along. "But I must say I'm surprised by your choice of music. Given your taste in painting, I thought you'd opt for something more modern."

"I'm full of surprises."

"I can see that."

He rang the bell and a footman entered the room and opened the champagne bottle that stood in the ice bucket.

"Would you like to select your meal now?" Platt asked her.

Ally nodded, surprised to find a printed menu on her plate.

"I personally recommend the pheasant," Platt suggested. "It's the cook's best dish. But both the fish and steak are also very good."

"I'll try the pheasant. It's my daddy's favorite. Personally I never had much of an appetite for it, but maybe you'll be able to convert me."

"I will do my best." Platt smiled. "And you must try the caviar and foie gras."

"It sounds like you've got it all planned out." Ally pushed her menu away.

The footman noted their selection and left the room.

"To tonight." Platt lifted the champagne bottle and filled Ally's and his glasses.

Ally clinked her glass against Platt's and lifted it to her lips. As she drank the bubbly liquid, she eyed Platt's glass out of the corner of her eye. Inside the low cut of her dress she had a tiny vial with a substance so potent it could knock out a horse. At least that's what Rebecca had told her, and Ally hoped it was the truth. But first she needed to get Platt to be alone with her.

"Would you like to dance?" Platt asked, offering his arm.

"I'd love to."

The musicians switched to a slow foxtrot and Platt gracefully glided across the floor with her.

"I must say that you're a wonderful dancer," Ally remarked.

"I could tell how much you enjoyed it the other night and I wanted to make this night special. I know I shouldn't get ahead of myself, but I've planned a little surprise for you for after dinner."

"I thought you were going to show me your art collection and make a convert out of me," Ally teased him, hoping her Southern drawl concealed her nervousness. Surprise from Blaine Platt was the last thing she needed.

"That's the surprise. You'll see. But first, dinner."

Just then two waiters entered with their first courses, and Platt escorted Ally back to her seat.

"Do you like caviar?"

"I must say that I'm more of a meat and potatoes kind of girl. My daddy adores it, though. He orders all kinds."

"Let me know what you think after you try this one."

Ally opened the small gold jar on her plate, and as she did so she realized that the feel and heaviness of it made it clear that it was made of real gold. She was even more surprised to discover what was inside. "I've never seen white caviar before!"

"It comes from albino sturgeon. Try it."

She scooped a small amount onto the gold spoon that accompanied the jar. "Mmm, it's delicious."

"Melts on the tongue," Platt said, watching her intently.

"Yes, that's the perfect way to describe it." She reached for a glass of champagne to wash down the fishy aftertaste. It might be a delicacy, but she'd never been a fan. Still, she wasn't about to disappoint Platt. "So tell me," she said, eyeing him over the rim of her glass, "do you usually invite unknown girls to your house and throw lavish dinners for them?"

He smiled. "No. Only very special girls."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He took a sip of his champagne. "I lead a very busy life. My work is very rewarding, but it can also be very stressful. I like to find ways to experience new things and discover new people. I find it helps me to stay balanced."

"I can see that. I must say both your love and professional lives are the subject of almost every publication out there."

"I see someone's been doing their homework."

"Russell was very worried about me coming here, but once he saw how famous you were, he seemed to relax. I told him that this was a purely business meeting, that you'd agreed to help me find a job."

"And is it the only thing you'd like it to be? A business meeting?"

She lowered her eyelashes. "I'd like to get to know you better and take it from there."

"I like the sound of that. And just so you know, I did my homework on you too. I'd love to come and visit your father some time. He sounds like a fascinating individual."

"Thank you." Ally gulped. It was a good thing that the agency had thoroughly substantiated her alias's background, even down to an owner of an oil plant who'd agreed to act as Emily Malone's father.

"Ah, here comes the pheasant." Platt rubbed his hands in anticipation.

Ally thanked the waiter and eyed the plate before her. The dish looked to be delicate and the portion was small, but her stomach was all in knots. She doubted she could manage even a single bite.

"So, what's the verdict?" Platt asked, eyeing her expectantly.

Ally cut a small piece of the dish and lifted it to her lips. She chewed it tentatively. Even through her nervousness she could taste how well the dish was cooked. "It's delicious."

"I'm glad you like it. I stole the chef who cooked it from Le Bernadin. He now works for me."

"You have excellent taste," Ally complimented him. _But then you can afford it_ , she thought. This dinner was dragging on far too long. It was time to dispatch with the pleasantries and get down to the real purpose of her visit. She took a few more bites of the pheasant and pushed her plate away. "I'm stuffed. Now how about that famous art collection of yours you were going to show me?"

Platt dabbed a napkin to his lips. "I must say you're impatient."

"Patience has never been one of my virtues."

"Very well. We can have dessert brought to the gallery."

"Or you could dismiss your staff and we could have a drink, just the two of us."

Platt arched an eyebrow. "I'm starting to like your impatience." He rang for the footman and whispered a few words of instructions into his ear.

After the footman left the room, Platt rose from his seat and offered Ally his arm. Ally followed him into the depths of the house. Her heart was beating so wildly she thought it was going to jump out of her chest. He stopped in front one of the doors and opened it. Inside it was a library with rows of towering bookcases. The bindings looked to be first editions.

"This is my other favorite room in the house," Platt explained. "But it requires its own dedicated tour, so we'll have to come back to it." He pointed at the bar that stood along the wall. "We just need to pick up some supplies. How do you feel about cognac, Emily? I find that cognac is the best accompaniment to art."

"Oh, I adore a shot of cognac after dinner."

"Good." Platt picked up a bottle of Louis XIII cognac and two cognac snifter glasses. "I think we're all set."

Everything this man had was top notch. Ally knew that this kind of cognac could run anywhere upwards of three thousand dollars a bottle, but then he could afford it. For all his talk about money not being important, Infinity Capital was bringing in astronomical profits.

They went up the stairs to the third floor. The entire time Ally tried to reconcile her physical location in the house with the blueprints she'd examined with Jake in preparation for tonight's visit. At the top of the stairs, Ally broke away from Platt.

"Oh I just can't wait to see it!" she exclaimed as she pulled on the first door to the left.

"You don't want to go in there—nothing but boring papers behind that door. It's my office."

"I beg your pardon. I just assumed that this was the right room," she lied. She'd suspected that it was the door to Platt's office and she was glad to have the information confirmed. "I'm getting ahead of myself."

"Nothing to apologize for. I'll be glad to give you a grand tour afterwards, but first, the art."

Platt walked a few steps to the right and stopped by the next door. He punched in the combination on the electronic lock. Then he pulled out an electronic key from his pocket and was about to swipe it. A small, rectangular object on his keychain caught Ally's attention.

"What's that?" she asked.

"What?"

"The ornament on your keychain. It's funny looking."

"Oh, it's just a souvenir from work. It's my totem. I like to carry it around as a reminder of importance of hard work and precision." He showed her the keychain. On it was the exact same chip model that Ally had obtained from the Pollux plants.

"Interesting little trinket. Does it have a purpose?"

"Yes, it does. It's a chip used in nuclear reactors."

"Oh, I remember now. You're the fella who got that huge contract with Pollux plants, right? And you bought out the company that had the original contract because something went wrong with it. I can't remember exactly, but I do remember that it was all over the papers a few months ago."

"That's right." Platt nodded, eyeing her shrewdly. "Roberts Enterprises had the original project. The problem was that Victor Roberts forgot about his duty to deliver the highest quality of work. Instead he got careless, sloppy, and money hungry, taking on a project he didn't have the capacity to execute and causing humongous losses not only to Pollux, but to all of its customers. I bought Roberts Enterprises because of my sense of obligation to society. Someone had to step in and fix things, regardless of the cost. That's why I carry this chip with me—to remind me to never be careless."

"But you did make some money on it, didn't you? Maintenance of all of Pollux's nuclear plants must bring a nice little chunk of change."

Platt nodded. "I'm starting to recuperate some of my expenditures, but it's a slow process. We're all in business to make money, but I'm in it for more than that. I feel an obligation and serve a moral purpose. To make my contribution, no matter how small, to society. I didn't know you were interested in the energy business."

"Only by association. My daddy follows everything that's connected to oil, gas, or electricity. I must say though that he'd disagree with you. He thinks a fella should get every penny he can."

"I'm aware that not everyone had the same advantages that I had. You see, I was born into money and my goals in life were never based on purely financial gain. I believe that money tends to bring out the worst in people. Sometimes it's better when the reasons to squabble and fight over profits are taken out of the equation. I have the ability to do that because I don't need to squabble over profits, and that's my own personal contribution to society."

I bet, Ally thought. If it were up to you, you'd eliminate the "squabbling" or competition all together. She couldn't believe the moral crock of shit Platt was trying to sell her and that he was doing it with a straight face too. "I think you're so inspiring," she lied.

"Shall we?"

"Yes. I can't wait."

Platt slid the electronic key and opened the door.

"This is incredible," Ally gasped, being sincere for the first time during the entire evening. The size of his collection was mind-blowing. At first glance she could spot Pollock, de Kooning, and Lichtenstein, just to name a few. Regardless of whether one was a fan of these painters, these works of art were worth a fortune.

"Better than the Italian masters?" Platt closed the door behind them.

"I wasn't comparing, but your collection is very impressive."

"I told you I'd make a convert of you," Platt said, moving in so close she could sense his breath on her neck. "We can admire it better from here." He motioned toward a leather couch by the wall.

Ally took a seat. "This is a beautiful view. I hope you manage to find time to enjoy it. My daddy loves horses, but he's so busy with the business that he hardly ever gets out to his ranch. It must be the same for you, being so busy with work and all."

"I have what you'd call an unconventional schedule. Sometimes I might have an eighty hour week and sometimes I might take a day off in the middle of the week to decompress. I find that it makes me more productive." He paused, moving in closer to her. "I think it's important to find time for beauty."

"Oh, yes," Ally agreed, conscious of his hand brushing her thigh. She barely resisted the urge to recoil.

Platt's eyes turned lusty as he reached for the cognac bottle and filled their glasses. "I think this will enhance your enjoyment ever further." He handed her the glass.

She lifted it to her nose and took a moment to appreciate the aroma. "I can tell this is some really good cognac," she said after taking a sip.

"Oh yes, it is," Platt murmured, moving in closer. "I must say, that perfume of yours is driving me crazy. What is it?"

"A girl can't reveal all her secrets."

"Have it your way." He moved in even closer. "I love mystery in a woman."

She could smell his breath, a mixture of caviar and pheasant laced with cognac undertones. "Oh, forgive me! I'm so clumsy!" Ally exclaimed, dropping her cognac glass on the floor where it smashed into pieces. "I'm so sorry!" She jumped up from the couch.

"Oh, nonsense, my dear. Sheer nonsense. Let me get you another glass. I'll be right back." Platt left the room.

While he was gone, Ally quickly emptied the contents of the vial she had with her into Platt's glass.

Platt returned a few moments later. "Here you are." He refilled and handed her a brand new glass, identical to the one she'd broken.

"Thank you." She lifted the glass to her lips and emptied it. "Ummm, this is good."

"Yes, indeed." Platt finished his glass and refilled both of their glasses. "But it shouldn't be rushed or you will fail to notice the flavor. A cognac this rare isn't meant to be gulped down."

"I'll take my time on the second one," she assured him. She wondered how long it would take for the sedative to knock Platt out. "So, which of the paintings is your favorite?" she asked.

"Oh, that's a tough one. It's like asking a parent to name their favorite child."

"But these aren't children."

"I was speaking metaphorically."

She took another swallow of cognac. "I still don't see the metaphor. It's not like you painted them."

"No, but I feel responsible for preserving them for society's sake. Obviously the people who owned this beauty before didn't care for it, or they would've never let it leave their homes. Now these relics have been passed on to me, and I think of myself as a kind of shepherd, safeguarding them for future generations."

Ally was tempted to say that people who really cared about preserving art for humanity donated their collections to museums, but she thought it'd be unwise to argue with Platt. "That sounds incredibly inspiring."

"Thank you," he yawned. "Oh, excuse me," he slurred, "I don't know what's come over me. I'm suddenly very sleepy. Must be all that food."

"Have some more cognac. It will wake you up." She reached for the bottle and refilled his glass. "Bottoms up." She waited for his to drain his glass. "Don't you feel better?"

"Yes, I think so."

Suddenly Platt keeled over and lay on his back on the couch. Ally leaned over Platt's prostrate body to make sure that he was asleep. His breathing was quiet and he seemed to be out cold. Quietly she rose from the couch, grabbed her purse, and tiptoed out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. She opened the door to Platt's office and examined her surroundings. Compared to the rest of his house, this room was very modest and functional. It had a large desk, a chair, and a couch. There were several paintings on the walls, mostly compilations of geometric shapes, but they weren't nearly as expensive as the ones in the main gallery. She walked over to Platt's desk, turned on his computer, and plugged in a flash drive Jake had given her. She wasn't a computer whiz by any means, but she didn't need to be; the software on the flash drive was going to suck all the data out of Platt's computer like a sponge. Platt's computer was encrypted, but the agency's software was sophisticated enough to break through the encryption. In a few moments Ally saw a progress window pop up that indicated that the software was working. The first part of the job was almost done. Of course she still had to get out of there safely, but at the moment she chose not to worry about that. Instead she concentrated on the room, looking for a good hiding spot for a safe. She lifted one of the paintings. Bingo. There was a built-in safe underneath.

"Freeze right there."

At the sound of Platt's voice, Ally's knees buckled. Slowly, she turned around. Platt was standing in front of her, holding up a gun. He looked to be wide awake.

"Surprised to see me?" He shook his head. "Didn't your daddy ever tell you that it's rude to snoop around other people's houses? Have a seat." He motioned at the chair next to the desk. "Don't even think about making a run for it. This gun is loaded and I will use it."

Ally did as she was told.

"What have we here?" Platt's eyes narrowed as he eyed his computer, yanking out the flash drive Ally had put in earlier. "And here I was thinking that you were interested in me when what you really wanted was to spy on me. Who do you work for?" he demanded.

She remained silent. With any luck, Jake would've already heard that her mission had gone awry and help was on the way. The longer she stalled, the better her chances for survival were.

"You will find that I don't like it when people play games with me. I can find ways to make you speak, unpleasant ways. So let's try one more time. Who sent you?"

She lowered her eyes and said nothing, preparing for the worst. He gripped her face with his hand, his unblinking eyes burrowing into her like a snake's. She tried to move away, but his grip was like steel. In one swift motion he ripped off her wig, sending searing pain through her scalp.

"The plot thickens. The lady's wearing a disguise. Who do you work for, bitch?"

Ally was scared now. She'd put on a good show of bravado before, but she never imagined she'd be in this much danger. Perhaps she should've listened to Jake and let him take the lead. She was in some really hot water now. Still, no matter how scared she was, she knew that she had to protect the agency.

"Answer me, you bitch!" He slapped her across the face, hard.

"My father was Victor Roberts," she spat, hoping to buy herself some time.

He laughed. "I see. What was your brilliant plan? To get a copy of my files and reopen the case? The DA is my personal friend and so is the FBI director. Even if you'd gotten out of here, you'd still be nowhere. You're just as idealistic and stupid as your father was. He had no place in business and it was high time I put him out of business."

"You bastard."

"I may be a bastard, but I won. Winning is the only thing that matters, no matter the costs. Only then can a true business empire be built."

"So much for all your high and mighty talk about money not being important."

He laughed. "That's just a pep talk for the masses, the worker bees. People don't know what's good for them, and they need men like me to keep things in order and decide for them. It is much more efficient to have a few select competent parties run the market and eliminate wasteful competition. Your father, on the other hand, thought differently. He thought competition was important, that innovation was important. I tried to work with him, but he wouldn't hear of it. He called me unprincipled. I couldn't believe it when your father got the Pollux project. He outbid me because his technology allowed him to have a much lower cost basis. It was the last drop in the bucket of my patience. I had to put a stop to it."

"So you destroyed my father to take over the Pollux project?"

"You silly girl, no wonder you failed at whatever it was you were trying to achieve here tonight. But since, as you probably already guessed, you won't be getting out of here, I'm going to grant your dying wish and tell you how I put your father out of business. The Pollux project provided an excellent backdrop for his downfall. I began looking for weak chinks in Roberts' armor the moment he got the project. I knew that his methods were too meticulous to sabotage and his employees too loyal to bribe, so I started looking at the equipment that Roberts had to get manufactured for the project. Most of the suppliers were large companies and it was too risky to try to involve them. And then I struck gold with Zigger Solutions. It was a relatively small company that was struggling financially because of Kyle Zigger's expensive divorce. I met Zigger at an industry event and he was only too eager to make a few extra bucks."

Tears were burning Ally's eyes. All the horrible memories of her father's trial were alive in her mind and she was reliving his death all over again. Her father was gone with everything he stood for destroyed, while Blaine Platt lived to reap the rewards of his crimes. She wanted to rip his eyes out, to strangle him with her bare hands.

With his gun-free hand Platt reached into his pocket and dangled his keychain in front of Ally's nose. "This little chip was all I needed. You see, radiation hardened chips are meant to withstand very high amounts of radiation in nuclear reactors. I asked Zigger to deliberately use a lower grade material so that the chips would gradually disintegrate under the radiation exposure. Otherwise it would've been too suspicious. And the rest, as they say, is history." His face smug, Platt bowed theatrically.

Ally seized the moment and kicked him in his shin, hard. He cursed and grabbed his leg, jumping on one foot. She jumped up and swung the chair at him, hitting him with all her strength. Platt crashed to the floor, the gun falling out of his hand. There was a gunshot and Ally felt a sharp pain in her arm. Shaking and barely able to think, she forced herself to pick up the gun.

"Don't you dare move," she hissed, standing over Platt. "Or I'll shoot your balls right off."

There was a sound of stomping feet in the hallway and moments later the door swung open and a squad of agents stormed into the room. They were wearing masks and bulletproof vests. Ally dropped the gun on the floor, relieved to see that help had arrived. Several agents surrounded Platt's crouching body, cuffing him.

One of the masked agents immediately moved to Ally's side, seeing that she was hurt. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Ally murmured, recognizing Jake's voice. But her legs told a different story, literally giving out from under her as she felt all strength leaving her. Jake's arms were there to catch her, and he picked her up as though she weighed nothing at all. She felt woozy, her body overcome with nausea. It must've been all the shock and the adrenaline. She'd been holding strong up until backup arrived, but now her body was refusing to cooperate.

"Easy, baby, take it easy. I got you," Jake whispered into her ear. "Get a doctor!" he barked at one of the agents.

She felt his strong arms holding her and leaned against his strong, broad chest. She felt him carry her to the couch and gently lower her on it. She leaned back into the reassuring warmth of his arms. She felt safe. "I think I got hit," she managed.

"Yes, you did. You crazy girl. I told you this was too dangerous. Don't you worry—I got you. You're going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. You did good, kid. We got the bastard. We're gonna nail him good."

# Chapter 22 - Three Months Later

Ally opened the door of a small bar in East Village where she was supposed to meet Jake. It was a small place, one of those trendy bars that pop up in New York's hot neighborhoods overnight and then close down with equal speed. It was seven o'clock and the place was already packed. Maybe this little joint would stand the test of time after all. Ally made her way to the back. She didn't have to look long: she spotted Jake seated behind a tiny table in a corner. He saw her almost instantly and nodded.

"Hi," he said simply, his gray eyes taking her in. Today had been a very emotional day for her and he knew it.

"Hi." She took a seat and smiled. "It's over."

"Yes, it is."

"I was so worried that Platt would get off the hook."

"Not with all the evidence we had on him. I still can't believe the stunt you pulled. You'd cut it so close. If we'd been even a few minutes late, God knows what could've happened."

"As I remember it, I had things under control. Platt was on the ground and I'd clobbered him with a chair."

"And you also got shot."

"It was just a ricochet bullet; it only grazed my arm. But I'll admit that I was scared. I never got shot before. I can't say that I enjoyed the experience, but in the end it played to our advantage. Thanks to Platt's cockiness, we had his admission of guilt on tape," she paused, remembering the events of that adrenaline-charged night. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For coming to my rescue that night."

Jake shook his head. "Ally, I hardly think you need rescuing. I was only busting your chops. You pulled off the entire operation on your own. The squad and I, we were just the clean-up crew . . . You were the one who rescued me."

"What do you mean?"

"When Marion had insisted that I return to the field to work on the Platt case with you, I was furious. I thought I was done with the field. I'd convinced myself that I was happy being an instructor, but in reality I was hiding." He looked away, a pained expression on his face.

"Because of that assignment that you told me about where a source died?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "Yes. I was blaming myself and I used my guilt as an excuse, making the training job my personal penance. In reality, I was scared and I was hiding behind my guilt. Marion saw right through it and called me on it. Working with you gave me my confidence back, Ally. You made me believe that I still have what it takes to be a good agent."

She touched his arm, moved by his words. "I think you're giving me too much credit. You're a great agent, Jake, and don't you ever think otherwise. If it weren't for you, I don't think I would've made it out of Platt's house."

"You would've made it out just fine. It was the agency's fault that the sedative didn't work on Platt in the first place. With all the research they did on the man, they failed to catch that he was seeing an herbalist and taking experimental herbal potency stimulants. Apparently, the herbal stimulant had lessened the effect of the sedative."

Ally wrinkled her nose. "Herbal potency stimulant? I don't want to hear anything more about it. Delilah would have a blast with this one. Promise not to tell her."

"My lips are sealed. From what I've heard, Delilah's doing a great job working for Rebecca."

"Yes, Delilah's really good at reading people," Ally said discretely, not wanting to bring Delilah's past out in the open. No doubt Jake knew about it since he must've seen their files in his former capacity as an instructor. Still, she felt protective of her friend, refusing to define Delilah by her past. What Delilah lacked on the technical front, she more than made up for with her knack for understanding human wants, needs, and weaknesses, especially male weaknesses—a skill that was vital in their line of work. "Rebecca and Delilah coached me to make Platt fall for me. Even though they didn't have Platt's identity, they figured out what type of woman a man like Platt would fall for. Of course files on his old dates also helped, but I don't think I could've pulled it off without their help."

"I doubt that. I think you would've done just fine," Jake said, his eyes locking on hers. "Time for a drink," he changed the subject abruptly. "What are you having?"

"Oh, I don't know . . . a glass of white wine."

"I think you could use something stronger right now." He motioned to a waiter and told him to bring two tequila doubles.

Ally took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I still can't believe it's over." Ally had managed to convince Marion to grant her permission to attend Platt's trial—not all of it of course, but the day the sentence was to be read, which was today. Ally had spent the entire day in court. She had to wear a disguise to court, just to be on the safe side, so before coming here she'd stopped by her apartment to chuck the wig and the contact lenses she had used to alter her appearance. Jake had been at the trial with her, wearing a wig and a fake goatee, but they'd arrived and left separately to be on the safe side.

"How do you feel?"

"Relieved, ecstatic, sad . . . I wanted to be at the sentencing and I'm glad I did it, but it also left me feeling empty inside. Ever since my father died, I've been consumed with revenge. It was all I could think of day and night. Now that it's over, I suddenly realized that it still doesn't change anything. Both Platt and Zigger are going to pay for what they did, but it won't bring my dad back. Nothing ever will."

He squeezed her hand. "What happened to your father, what happened to you is heartbreaking. Most people would've given up, lost their spirit, but you stood tall and fought back. You're a very strong woman, Ally."

"I was given the means to fight back. If it weren't for the agency, I would've never been able to get to Platt or Zigger."

"You would've found a way eventually. It might've taken you a little longer, but you're not the type who gives up easily."

She smiled. "I guess you've got a point there."

Their drinks arrived. "To you, Ally." Jake lifted his glass to his lips and drained it.

Ally pretended to follow suit but only drank a little bit.

"You have to finish the whole thing," he said, noticing that her glass was still almost full.

"Jake Morrissey, if I didn't know you better I'd say that you were trying to get me drunk," she teased him.

"Sometimes it's good to get drunk. I think tonight is one of those nights."

She nodded. "I can't say that I disagree." She gulped down the rest of the tequila. "Whew," she gasped.

"Bite on this." He lifted a slice of lemon from the saucer that the waiter had left for them.

"Thanks."

"Ready for another one?"

"I was born ready."

"That you were." He chuckled as he signaled to the waiter for the refill.

"What if they let him out on good behavior?" Ally asked gloomily.

"Who?"

"Platt. Or Zigger."

"I'd say that pigs have a greater chance of flying than either Platt or Zigger getting out of jail early. They were both sentenced to one hundred years. The inside of their cell is the only scenery they are going to see for the rest of their lives."

"What about Platt's friends in high places?"

"You mean the high-ranking officials who are now being investigated on corruption charges because Platt was stupid enough to brag about them to you?"

"What if there are others?"

"Even if there were, I'm sure that now they won't touch Platt with a six-foot pole, let alone come to his help."

"I hope so."

"I'd say Platt is finished and so is Zigger."

Ally nodded. Even though she had the evidence to prove it, at times she couldn't believe how twisted and corrupt both Zigger and Platt were. At least Platt had never known her father personally. He was cold-blooded and cutthroat and lived by his own rules. As much as it pained her, she could understand why Platt would want to eliminate her father as a competitor. But Kyle Zigger? Ally's father and Kyle Zigger's father had been close friends, and Ally's father had remained a loyal customer even after Sam Zigger retired—a decision that had cost him his legacy and his life. At least Ally had managed to save her father's legacy, clear his name, and make those who ruined him pay. In addition to a jail sentence that equaled to life in prison, Platt had been ordered to pay thirty billion dollars in restitution fees to all the injured parties. The amount exceeded the size of Platt's net worth, and part of his sentence included forfeiture of any future profits until restitution was fully paid. A percentage of the restitution proceeds was assigned to Ally since her father was one of the injured parties, but she wasn't expecting to receive much. Pollux plants were the first in line and then their clients. Plus she was sure that Platt had been super careful about hiding his money. Already his defense had asked to reduce the payout schedule. Still, Platt himself couldn't run away and now he was going to pay for what he did. Ally remembered the ashen look on Blaine Platt's face after his sentence had been read. He looked shell-shocked, like a man whose world had just collapsed. He had been confident throughout the trial, acting as though he were merely a spectator at a show that didn't concern him. Ally suspected that up until now he believed that he was going to escape. Blaine Platt had tried to play God. He must've thought he was invincible, but he had turned out to be only human after all.

"I think we need more drinks," Ally said, deciding to heed Jake's advice. She needed to get these morbid thoughts out of her mind, and alcohol would do the trick, at least for now.

"We will, but we should get something to eat too."

"I'm not hungry," she said and suddenly remembered that she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. Still, her stomach was all in knots and the thought of food seemed impossible.

"I'm starving, so I'm going to order and you can feel free to join me if you change your mind."

"Okay."

Jake placed a double order of burgers with the waiter as well as another round of drinks and asked for water as well.

"It won't work, you know."

"What?"

"You ordering all that food—I'm not hungry."

"I know. But I told you that I am." He grinned.

Their drinks arrived and the waiter said it'd be a few minutes for the food.

Ally lifted her shot glass. "To you, Jake."

"Thank you." He downed his shot. "I must say I'm honored."

"You're a great agent and you taught me a lot even though I don't like to admit it."

"I had a very good student to work with. A great student who became an excellent agent."

"I think you're being too kind," she demurred.

"No, I'm not. You just busted Platt and already you've solved two more cases."

"They were minor." Ally waved her hand in dismissal, referring to the two bribery and collusion schemes she'd busted.

"Our work isn't all guns and champagne you know. Platt-caliber cases don't come up every day, but that doesn't mean that the other cases aren't important. You've only been with the agency for a short time, but you've done an amazing job."

She knew that Jake was telling the truth. She'd received an excellent evaluation during her quarterly performance review, but she blushed in spite of herself. Hearing him praise her meant so much more to her. Ever since the day he'd busted into Platt's townhouse with a squad of agents in tow, Jake had kept close to Ally, always finding an excuse to talk to her at work. Every day he shared something new with her, sharing his tricks of the trade. And Ally couldn't say that she objected. She liked him; she liked him a lot and not just as a co-worker or her mentor. But he was her co-worker and because of that she felt safe. She wasn't exactly in the right emotional state for a new relationship right now, but a light office flirtation wouldn't hurt anyone, and she liked flirting with Jake.

Just then their food arrived. "Mmm, that smells delicious." Jake lifted his burger off the plate and bit into it.

Ally crossed her hands on her chest, eyeing him defiantly. The smell of melted cheese and grilled meat had awakened her hunger. "All right, you win," she caved in, unable to resist a moment longer.

"Good, isn't it?" Jake asked after she'd chewed her first bite.

"Heavenly."

They dug into their food and were quiet for a few minutes.

"Should we order more drinks?" Ally asked, halfway through her burger.

Jake nodded. "But I think we should switch to margaritas or I'm afraid I might have to carry you home."

"Are you calling me a lightweight?"

"First you accuse me of trying to get you drunk, and when I try to be a gentleman and think of your well-being you bust my chops again? There's no winning with you, is there?"

"Sorry. Margaritas sound great."

"Don't apologize. I was just playing with you." Jake ordered two margaritas for them.

***

Several drinks later Ally checked her watch. "Wow, I can't believe it's almost ten o'clock."

"You know what they say, time flies when you're having a good time," Jake halted. "Sorry, I lost track for a minute. I know that today was tough for you."

"Don't be sorry. I had a great time with you here tonight. I don't know how I would've made it through otherwise. I have to be honest with you and tell you that in many ways I've been dreading today, but I feel all right now. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, Ally. We're partners and friends. Why were you dreading today? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he added hastily.

"It's all right. I don't mind. Because it's the end," she said, tugging at her hair. "I've accomplished what I've set out to do and now I don't know what to do next."

"You don't like working at the agency?"

"I do like it. I didn't expect to, but I do. I took the job because after my father's name had been slandered in the papers, no one else would hire me. My job offer got revoked. I was about to fill out an application for a waitress job, and then I got a call from Marion's office. I had my share of reservations, especially during training, but I decided to pull through. It was my only chance for a job that would use my education and skills, and it was my only chance for revenge. But I already told you about that."

"You can always talk to me about anything, Ally."

"Thank you." For a moment their eyes locked and she felt the same spark of electricity she'd felt when she'd met him for the first time as a fresh recruit at the training academy. Only this time it was much stronger and it scared her. "I think it's time for me to get going. I'm exhausted."

"Yes, of course." He fumbled with his jacket, taking out his wallet and waved her away when she tried to put her credit card on the table to split the bill with him.

A few moments later Jake had paid the bill and they left the bar.

Outside it was a balmy night with the kind of weather that felt more like spring than winter. Jake was about to signal a cab, but Ally stopped him.

"I think I'm going to walk. I'm only a few blocks away from here."

"In that case, I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to."

"I know, but I want to. I'm not letting you walk late at night alone."

"It's not late at night."

"Are we going to have an argument about this? 'Cause you know that you won't win." He grinned, his eyes twinkling at her.

"All right. Have it your way. Hope you like walking."

"I do actually, a lot. It helps me put things in perspective."

The streets were narrow, so they had to keep close to one another. She could smell a faint scent of his cologne. It was a smell that was entirely Jake: quiet and reserved, but incredibly masculine and sexy. She stole a glance at his profile. He walked with his head lowered and his hands shoved into the pockets of his tweed overcoat. He looked like a man who was lost deep in his thoughts, a very handsome man. She knew she shouldn't be thinking about it, but she couldn't help wondering what it would be like walking with a man like that, not as his coworker, but as his woman. How incredible it would be to be loved by a man like Jake Morrissey. But while that was a luxury she knew she could never afford, she could afford to dream. Dreaming was safe. They continued walking next to one another, the sleeves of their coats brushing occasionally, sending jolts of electricity to her heart. She was glad that Jake was quiet; this way she could imagine this walk to be anything she wanted it to be.

"We're here," she said, reluctantly slowing down her step. "This is my building. Thank you for a wonderful night."

"I'll walk you inside."

"Okay."

She punched in the security code and he pulled open the building door for her. They walked inside the lobby and she pressed the elevator button.

"Well . . . goodnight."

"Goodnight, Ally." He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

It was a chaste kiss; a friend's kiss. But his closeness, his smell, literally made her quiver all over. He must've sensed it because the next thing she knew, he was kissing her passionately and she was answering him eagerly, forgetting all about the reasons why she shouldn't. The elevator doors opened and closed, but they ignored them, linked together and refusing to let go.

With a great effort he pulled himself away from her. "Ally, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do this. Please, forgive me—"

She wouldn't hear it. She'd been hungry for him for a long time and she wasn't going to deny herself tonight. She didn't want to think about tomorrow; tonight she was going to be with Jake. "I know you want this just as much as I do. I can feel it. Please don't stop."

That was all he needed to hear. His eyes blazed with desire that was even more powerful than her own. He pulled her closer, his lips locking upon hers, passionate and tender. His quick fingers unbuttoned her coat and she felt his strong, yet gentle hands stroking her. Her body responded to his caresses with burning fire. She arched her back, propping herself against the wall, surprised by the force of her own responses. She had never felt this way with Ron, but she had been a different person then—a naïve and foolish girl—and now she was a woman. Jake had helped her to become this woman and she wanted him to take all of her tonight.

Her hand searched the wall for the elevator button, but he anticipated her and pressed it. The elevator doors opened and their arms and lips entwined as they tumbled inside, one body and four legs.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, kissing her neck. "I've wanted this since the first time I saw you."

"Me too," she groaned. "I've wanted you for so long."

Finally they reached her floor and the elevator doors opened. They spilled into the hallway and towards her apartment. Pulling her face away from his hungry lips only long enough to find the key in her purse, she opened the door and they were inside. She turned on the light: she wanted to see the passion on his face. No matter what was to come afterwards, she wanted to see and remember tonight in all its glory. He pulled off his coat and dropped it on the floor and she followed suit. Unwilling to wait a moment longer, he swooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He lowered her down gently and took off her shoes. He took off his shoes and his shirt and joined her on the bed. She began to pull off her top and Jake helped her, pulling it off her in one swift motion. With a practiced hand he pulled off her jeans and undid her bra, his lips and his tongue caressing each breast. He halted for a moment.

"Are you sure you want this Ally?" he asked, his voice regaining control, indicating to her that he was ready to stop at her request.

"Yes," she moaned. "Yes."

He pulled out a condom from his jeans and in a moment was completely naked next to her. His strong, muscular body was hungry with desire for her. He kissed her so hard that he literally took her breath away, his hands exploring her body, bringing pleasure to each and every part of it. He felt how much she yearned for him and his own desire resonated, growing even more powerful. He slipped on the condom and seconds later he was inside her.

She felt herself stretch with delicious pleasure as her body took in his powerful girth. He started off gently, feeling his way inside her. She wrapped her legs around him, thrusting herself against him, urging him to answer her passion. He resonated, his thrusts growing more powerful, their bodies beating in unison to the rhythm of desire. She arched her back, overcome by a wave of pleasure so great that it threatened to submerge her. She held on to him, enthralled by this powerful pleasure she never knew existed. There was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes as he pressed onward, filling her body with ecstasy. Finally, when he saw it in her eyes that she had reached the ultimate level of pleasure, he joined her, the two of them climaxing with abandon.

Afterwards they lay together quietly, him holding her.

"What are we going to do tomorrow?" she asked.

"It depends on what it is you want to do, Ally. I'll tell you what I want, but it doesn't mean that you have to agree. Whatever it is you decide, I give you my word I will follow." He drew a deep breath. "I've wanted this ever since I've met you. But I was afraid to act on my feelings, afraid to hurt you. I'm not afraid anymore. I'm ready to start living my life again. I mean really start living it. I want us to be together. I want you to be my woman. That is," he halted, "if that's what you want."

"Yes." She kissed him. "Yes, I want it. But what about the agency?"

He smiled, pulling her closer to him. "The agency is the last of my concerns. We can find our way around them. The only thing I care about is that we're together," he paused, looking into her eyes. "You have me spellbound."

"And you me." One thing was bothering her; she knew it was probably nothing, but she decided to ask him anyway. "Jake?"

"Yes?"

"Remember when we were at the charity ball together for the assignment . . ."

"Yes?"

"Rebecca had given me this pheromone mixture designed by the agency that was supposed to make Platt more attracted to me. I was worried that it might work on you as well, but she told me that you were one of the volunteer subjects for the mixture and that it didn't work on you, so I didn't think it necessary to tell you about it back then. But now that this happened between us . . . well, I just wanted to make sure that it wasn't because of that." The sound of Jake's loud laughter made her blush. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you, but do you really believe that what I feel for you was caused by some kind of love potion? Those mad scientist types at the agency are constantly messing around with stuff, claiming to have invented the next great breakthrough, but I've yet to see them invent anything of value."

"It seemed to work on Platt . . ."

"I'm aware of that. It worked a little too well for my liking, I might add."

"But nothing happened. I was never going to follow through with it. I don't think I could even if I had wanted to. I just told Marion that I would. It was only meant as a distraction for me to get the information I needed."

"I know, but I still don't like it. Never did."

"I promise not to take risks like that again."

"You'd better not. You're my girl now."

He began to kiss her, his desire strong for her again. As she gave in to the pleasure of his caresses, a blissful smile lit up her face. For what had felt like forever, her heart had been filled with vengeance. She'd been to hell and back. She'd been afraid that now that her vengeance was done, her heart would become a hollow, shriveled box and she would never be capable of letting love into it again. She knew now that she didn't have to be afraid anymore. There was room in her heart for love again.

### The End

If you enjoyed reading _Thirsty for Payback_ make sure to check out book 2, _Baiting Trouble_ http://www.marieastor.com

#  About the Author

Marie Astor is New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author. Marie is a die-hard romantic, which is why she loves writing romantic suspense and contemporary romance. In her spare time, Marie enjoys being adventurous out-of-doors. She often gets new story ideas while she is hiking up a mountain or trying to avoid bumping into a tree while skiing.

Join Marie's mailing list at www.marieastor.com to receive updates on Marie's new book releases and events.

### Books by Marie:

Sinful Business Series

Book 1: Thirsty for Payback (eBook Available for FREE)

Book 2: Baiting Trouble

Janet Maple Series

Book 1: To Catch a Bad Guy (eBook Available for FREE)

Book 2: Catching the Bad Guy

Book 3: Bad Guys Get Caught

Book 4: Bad Guys Don't Win

Book 5: Coming soon!

Contemporary romance novels

This Tangled Thing Called Love

Lucky Charm

Smitten at First Sight

More books by Marie:

_A Dress in a Window_ (a short story collection)

_Over the Mountain and Back_ (a young adult fantasy adventure novel)

Please read on for an excerpt from _To Catch a Bad Guy,_ book one of the Janet Maple Series _._

# Excerpt from To Catch a Bad Guy

(Book One of the Janet Maple Series)

By

Marie Astor

### Chapter 1

Janet Maple took a deep breath while she waited for her train to arrive. She was twenty-nine years old, but this morning she felt like a first-grader. The same sickening feeling churned her stomach that she remembered when she first entered a room full of strangers as a five-year-old. She was much older now – a professional with a law degree to boot, and, until recently, with a successful career at the District Attorney's office, but today none of these things gave her comfort or confidence.

It was not merely the prospect of starting a new job that gave Janet the heebie-jeebies, but it was the fact that she would be working for Lisa Foley. Talk about stirring up old insecurities... Lisa Foley had been the queen 'b' in high school. Come to think of it, Lisa was still the queen 'b.' Every time Janet talked to her best friend from high school, Lisa never failed to bring back 'the old glory days' as she called them. With friends like Lisa, who needed a time machine? One could always count on Lisa's sharp memory to recall every embarrassing incident of adolescence.

Well, the past is the past, Janet thought. I should be thankful to Lisa for giving me a job. When your former boss also happens to be your ex-boyfriend, the subject of references becomes dicey to say the least. Regardless of how stellar one's background looks on paper, employers always want references, but Lisa had hired Janet without any references. In fact, Lisa's phone call had come with unsettlingly perfect timing. Just as Janet was about to give up all hope of white-collar employment, her old friend had come to the rescue. That was another one of Lisa's remarkable qualities: for as long as Janet had known her, her friend seemed to have a radar for people's misfortunes. In high school, Lisa was always the first to know who got dumped, who didn't make the cut on the football team, and whose parents got laid off. So it was not surprising that Lisa knew about Janet's being "downsized" by the District Attorney's office, and when she offered her a job as Assistant General Counsel at Bostoff Securities, Janet literally jumped at the chance.

"Janie! Come in, come in!" Lisa rose from behind her long mahogany desk and opened her arms in an offer of a hug.

"Hi, Lisa." Janet stooped for an air kiss from Lisa. At five seven and one hundred and thirty pounds, Janet was no giant. Fine, maybe she was not dainty, but her weight was smack in the middle of the healthy category for her height. But at five two and ninety five pounds, Lisa made everyone tower over her – a trait that Janet was convinced Lisa secretly relished.

"Sit, sit." Lisa waved her hand at the leather chair opposite her desk. "I'm so excited that we'll be working together – it's going to be just like old times."

"I'm really glad to be here, Lisa, and thank you again for giving me the job."

"That's what friends are for, right? To help each other out when you're down in the dumps," Lisa answered her own question. "So, how was your orientation?"

When Janet started her employment at the DA's office, there had been a rigorous four-week orientation to initiate her and fellow law school recruits into the intricacies of the Assistant District Attorneys' job responsibilities. But here, at the Bostoff Securities, the orientation only resembled the process by its title – the entire affair had taken scarcely thirty minutes, as Janet was shoved into a tiny room for her photo id picture and given a thick binder with the company forms to sign. Janet supposed she was an experienced attorney now, and it was time she started acting like one around Lisa.

"It went well; I got all this paperwork to complete." Janet raised the thick folder she'd been given at the orientation.

"Don't worry about that; it's just your generic HR stuff. What time is it now?" Lisa fumbled with her Cartier watch. "Perfect timing; we're going to lunch. But first, let me show you to your office." Lisa slid from behind her desk. As usual, she looked spectacular: her navy pinstriped suit seemed to have been made for her miniature body (and it probably had been), her four-inch Louboutin stilettos elongated her slender legs, and her pixie cut emphasized the perfect features of her face. She looked like a corporate version of Winona Ryder.

As Janet followed Lisa down the hall, she made a conscious effort to resist her urge to stoop; let Lisa stand on the balls of her feet instead.

"Our offices are on the same floor as the trading floor," Lisa explained over her shoulder as she wove her way down the mahogany-lined hallway. "But there's a shortcut through here, so that you don't have to enter the trading floor unless you need to. And I'll be honest with you, I try to avoid it as much as I can. It's a veritable zoo out there." Lisa paused, indicating that they had arrived. "Ta-daa!" Lisa flung the door open and ushered Janet into the spacious room.

Janet bit her lip with remorse. If her office was any indication of her employment at Bostoff Securities, she owed Lisa an eternal debt of gratitude. The size of the room was about twice the size of Janet's digs when she worked for the DA, and it even had a window! Having an office with a window had been a sign of great recognition in the DA's elaborate hierarchy. Granted, Janet had been only a few steps away from getting to this high honor before Alex snatched everything she had worked for for four years of her life, but all that was history now, as were the long hours she'd put into her investigation, the credit Alex took for her work, and Alex himself.

"You like?" Lisa asked.

Janet snapped out of her reverie. Being caught daydreaming was not a good way to start her first day. "I love it, Lisa. Thank you."

"I bet it beats that DA dump you've been slaving away at. I still can't understand what possessed you to go there. You were always such an idealist."

Lisa did have a point there: Janet was an idealist. Correction, Janet had been an idealist. For four years, she had toiled away as Assistant District Attorney at the New York Office for a minimum salary, but as ridiculous as it sounded, money was not the reason why she had pursued a career in law. She had wanted to help the wronged and go after the bad guys, like the guys who had stripped her retired grandfather of every penny he had ever earned, sending him into fatal cardiac arrest. But when the results of your investigation are handed over to your boss to take credit for, and you're sent packing, it becomes hard to remain an idealist; and so far, employment at Bostoff Securities was proving to be a very comfortable reality.

"So, you're ready for lunch? I must say you're looking very dapper in this suit of yours."

"Thanks." Janet blushed, aware that her boxy brown suit was nowhere near as elegant as Lisa's. But, on a positive note, with her salary bump at Bostoff Securities, she would finally be able to move past the one hundred dollar suit racks she'd made a habit of frequenting at J.C. Penney.

"You might want to let your hair down, though."

"What's wrong with my hair?" Janet clasped her French twist protectively. She had spent nearly forty minutes this morning putting up her hair.

"Oh, it's perfectly fine if you're going for that tough prosecutor look, but if you're looking to get a guy interested..." Her hand reached for Janet's hair. Lisa's four-inch heels made them almost equal in height.

"I wasn't aware I was being set up on a date." Janet lips knitted into a prim line – a lifelong involuntary reaction to irritation. Sure, Lisa was the boss, but that did not give her the right to control her employees' looks and personal lives.

"Oh, come off it." With a swoop of her hand, Lisa plucked a handful of pins from Janet's hair, undoing her tightly knotted French twist. "There." Lisa stood back and eyed Janet appraisingly. "Much better."

Janet ran her hand over her hair. It was full of kinky waves from being wound up in a twist.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on?" Janet struggled to keep her voice level for the sake of job security.

"I got you a date, you silly! Well, it's not exactly a date..." Lisa retracted.

Janet made a mental effort to shut her mouth, as her jaw was having a hard time taking this much obnoxiousness without dropping.

"Calm down, will ya?" Lisa continued. "It's a business lunch: we're meeting Tom Wyman at Aquavit. Tom is a really nice guy, and he's not too shabby in the bringing home the bacon department either, if you know what I mean. He's a partner at Ridley Simpson."

"Look, Lisa, I really appreciate your thinking of me, but I'm not looking to date anyone at the moment. I just got out of a relationship, and I want to take it easy for a while..."

"Please. It's me you're talking to – your best friend since forever."

And now my boss. Janet forced a smile.

"The last thing you want after," Lisa paused, making a quotation sign with her fingers, "'getting out of a relationship' is to take it easy. Just because you're working for me does not mean that things have to change; I always got you dates in high school, didn't I?"

Yes, you did, Janet thought, even when I didn't ask you to.

Lisa glanced at her watch. "We'd better get a move on. A man like Tom Wyman should not be kept waiting. Put some makeup on, and let's go."

Janet raked through her handbag for her makeup case. She obediently ran a powder puff over her face and applied a quick coat of lipstick to her lips. Then she ran her comb through her hair in an attempt to tame it – a futile effort, since she still looked like she had just ridden a motorcycle without a helmet. Oh, well. At least her wild hair would compensate for her overly conservative outfit.

***

Bostoff Securities was located on Park Avenue and Fifty Third Street, and Aquavit, the restaurant for the rendezvous with Tom Wyman, was on Fifty Fifth Street, between Madison and Park. Despite her monstrous heels, Lisa nimbly maneuvered her way down the street, while Janet struggled to keep up in her kitten pumps. After four years of working downtown, midtown felt like a foreign country: she'd forgotten how touristy and crowded the streets there could get.

"Ah, here we are." Lisa motioned at the screened restaurant entrance.

Just as they were about to go inside, a man smoking nearby hurried to open the door for Lisa – a concrete demonstration of the power Lisa had been wielding over men ever since she had entered her teens.

Inside, the décor was Nordic minimalism, with wooden paneling accompanied by slender white fixtures hanging low from the ceiling. It was Monday afternoon, and the atmosphere was all business: financial and advertising types sporting expensive suits loitered by the bar, waiting for their clients.

"There is a reservation for three under Tom Wyman," Lisa addressed the hostess.

"Oh, yes." A rail-thin blonde smiled at them. "Mr. Wyman is already here."

"Lisa!" A velvety baritone called from across the room. A man rose from his seat by the bar and walked toward them.

"Tom, so wonderful to see you!" Lisa leaned in for an air kiss exchange. "So sorry we are late."

"Nonsense, good company is worth waiting for." Tom grinned.

"You're such a charmer." Lisa batted her eyelashes.

She's flirting with him, Janet felt a sting of irritation. She was not even interested in this Tom Wyman character, but, in spite of herself, she was hot with resentment. Lisa's behavior was reminiscent of all those teenage double dates Janet had endured, with Lisa flirting away with the very guys Lisa had supposedly invited as Janet's dates. Sure, Janet was much older now, but when it came to her friendship with Lisa, other than the number of candles on her last birthday cake, not much had changed.

"Tom, Tom Wyman." Tom's eyes locked in on Janet's as he extended his hand. Coiffed was the word to describe him. Everything about this man was polished: his manner of speech, his silky dark eyes, his curly black hair, which was carefully slicked back, and his tailored outfit of Brooks Brothers suit and pink shirt with onyx cufflinks.

"Janet Maple." Janet blinked, sensing Tom's smooth, manicured fingers wrap around her hand.

"Janie just started working for me today," Lisa cut in.

Janet nodded good-naturedly. She hated it when Lisa called her Janie – the diminutive was reserved for family only, but somehow, years ago, when Lisa had overheard Janet's mother call her Janie, she had picked it right up and Janet never had the heart to tell her to stop.

"Some would say never hire your best friend, but I'm of a different opinion. Janie and I are the best of friends, and I know that we'll get along splendidly at the office."

Tom let go of Janet's hand and looked at Lisa, bemused. "Well, Lisa, from what you've told me about Janet, she is going to be a great asset to the firm."

Janet beamed him a smile. She did not know much about this Tom Wyman character, but she could have kissed him on the spot for putting Lisa back in her place.

As if reading Janet's mind, or more likely her facial expression, Tom said, "Columbia Law School graduates rarely come clamoring for employment, especially those who graduated magna cum laude."

"I see that Lisa has been talking about me." Janet returned Tom's wink with a smile. She might not like the idea of Lisa meddling in her personal life, but that did not mean that she would let Lisa steal the limelight from her date – not anymore.

"Yes, she has." Every word uttered in Tom's silky voice sounded like a caress. "And I for one am glad to know that I'll be working with an alumna."

"You went to Columbia also?"

"I did: class of two thousand."

He is seven years older than me, Janet's mind did an involuntary calculation. "It's always a pleasure to meet fellow Columbia alum."

"Indeed. And I hope that we'll be seeing quite a bit of each other." Tom's eyes lingered on Janet a second too long for a casual glance, and she was not quite sure how to respond.

"Well, should we get seated?" Lisa tapped her foot. "I'm starving."

"Forgive me, I seem to be forgetting myself." Tom nodded at the restaurant hostess who had been lurking in the background, careful not to interrupt their conversation.

"Please follow me." With gazelle-like grace, the hostess glided across the floor.

Her head cocked, Lisa sashayed after the hostess. Tom stepped aside, letting Janet go in front of him, and she could not help a warm, giddy feeling spreading in her chest. She certainly did not intend to get involved with Tom Wyman, but it sure felt nice to be the center of his attention.

"So, Janet, tell me more about yourself," said Tom after they had ordered lunch.

"I'm not sure where to begin. I'm afraid I'm not that interesting." Janet lowered her eyes, breaking away from Tom's gaze. His eyes were like two black olives: dark, glistening, and unsettlingly sharp.

"Why, Janie, as usual, your modesty is getting the best of you!" Lisa pursed her lips. "Tom, do you know that Janie has spent the last four years at the DA's office?"

"Oh?" Tom's eyebrows shot up high. "What an interesting career choice. And may I ask what division you were in?"

"I was in the Investigation Division." When Janet spoke of her former occupation as Assistant District Attorney, most people were either impressed or terrified – the latter were usually employed in the financial industry. There was one memorable occasion when Janet had mentioned her employment while being flirted with by a handsome financial type during happy hour, which resulted in the guy's falling off his bar stool and promptly vacating the bar premises. But then there were plenty of occasions when her choice of occupation elicited accolades and admiration – those were mostly from members of senior citizen communities who were frequent victims of financial rogues whom Janet so diligently tried to catch. In either case, most people never went as far as inquiring about the specifics of her job, which made Tom's pointed question surprising.

"Very impressive. I hear it requires a special transfer to get into Investigation, correct?"

"Yes." Janet nodded. "I started with the DA right after law school. My first assignment was with the Trial Division, but I asked to be moved into Investigations, and my supervisor agreed to recommend me."

"No doubt for exceptional performance."

Janet blushed, unaccustomed to such keen interest in her work. "Well, I did contribute to several important cases."

Tom's pointed gaze travelled from Janet to Lisa. "Well, Lisa, it sounds like you hired a first-rate sleuth: a qualification that is bound to be an asset for employment with Bostoff Securities."

Just as Tom finished his convoluted compliment, a waiter approached the table, carrying a bottle of wine.

"I believe this calls for a toast. Here's to the latest addition to Bostoff Securities." Tom raised his glass.

"I'm so glad you're here, Janie." Lisa raised her glass.

Janet eyed the wine hesitantly. Alcohol during lunch would most certainly be frowned upon at the DA's office, but she was no longer at the DA's office, and it was time to put her former employer behind her.

"Relax," Lisa jeered, "it's all right to have a sip with your boss."

Janet picked up her glass.

"Welcome to the family, Janet." Tom's glass clinked against Janet's and Lisa's. "Forgive me if I sound too forward, Janet, but I do so much work for Bostoff Securities that I feel a part of the team."

"Thank you, Tom." Janet smiled. Perhaps she was being too guarded after all. This Tom Wyman was bound to be a decent fellow if he called his employer 'family.'

The rest of the lunch was spent in gastronomical exploration as the waiter brought out one intricate dish after another. By the end of the two-hour meal, Janet felt the waistline of her skirt pinching. There was one good thing to be said about having a limited budget: it prevented one from overindulging, and if four-course lunches were de rigueur at Bostoff Securities, she would have to acquire formidable self-restraint.

"Ah, I'm stuffed." Lisa leaned back in her chair, and Janet noticed that Lisa's plate looked like it had been barely touched, while Janet's was swept clean.

Tom checked his watch. "Wow, it's after two o'clock. I hate to break up the party, ladies, but I've got to get back to the office. I am, after all, working on billable hours." Tom grinned.

"Please, Tom." Lisa waved her hand. "With the bill you sent me last month, I think you've fulfilled your quota for the rest of the year."

"In the words of Hank Bostoff, there's no such thing as too much money."

"Yes." Lisa nodded. "I'm constantly reminded of it by Jon. Hank Bostoff is the founder of the firm – he is the CEO," Lisa explained for Janet's benefit. "You haven't met him because he only interviews the most senior people. I might as well tell you about all the big wigs. Jonathan Bostoff is Hank's elder son. He is the company president."

"Paul Bostoff is Hank's younger son and the company's COO, and Lisa's soon-to-be fiancé," Tom explained.

"Please, Tom, don't jinx it!" Lisa smiled coyly. "But, getting back to business, Tom, it would be great if you could give Janet an overview of Bostoff Securities' business. Do you think you could do that?"

"Certainly," Tom replied. "It will be my pleasure. Shall we say eleven o'clock tomorrow?"

Lisa reached for her purse and leaned over to whisper into Janet's ear, "See, he likes you."

"Eleven is fine." Janet nodded. If Lisa wanted to play matchmaker, Janet had no choice but to play along. She needed this job.

### Chapter 2

Dennis Walker surveyed the contents of his closet and reluctantly pushed away his tailored suits. His current persona as Dean Snider, Chief IT Analyst at Bostoff Securities, did not allow for dapper attire. Instead, Dennis reached for a brown Men's Wearhouse suit in size forty two regular, while Dennis normally wore forty long. Next followed a shirt of swamp green Dennis had also acquired at Men's Wearhouse and a mousy gray tie of fabric so stiff that it virtually would stand if one were to lay the tie down on the side. The one thing Dennis refused to give up was his shoes. His feet, after all, were important – he only had one pair for his entire lifetime, so he reached for a discreet pair of Johnston and Murphy's. Last came a pair of glasses. The lenses were plain plastic, but their purpose was not to correct Dennis's twenty-twenty vision, but to obscure the blue-gray of his eyes. It was a known fact that people rarely noted eye color behind corrective lenses. For the finishing touch Dennis slouched his shoulders and stuck out his neck. When he looked in the mirror, the transformation was complete: the suave charmer Dennis Walker had been replaced by a nerdy computer geek.

When Dennis had proposed his candidacy for the assignment at Bostoff Securities, his boss had shrugged him off as too good-looking and too suave. In the past, Dennis had impersonated traders, lawyers, company executives, and even aspiring political candidates. Any time an assignment required balls and charisma, Dennis was the 'go to' man. Without a doubt, those had been Dennis's preferred roles, but the Bostoff investigation promised to be a career-making case, and Dennis was a careerist. Sure, he liked catching the bad guys, but he liked being recognized for his achievements even more. His boss was dead set on assigning the job to Peter Laskin. At thirty-five, Laskin was already balding, and the frames he wore had thick corrective lenses in them. Laskin, a forensic accountant by training, was a genius behind the desk, but his last assignment in the field had been over five years ago, and all it took was one hiccup – one slip – for a case to go down the drain. So Dennis took it upon himself to save the day. Not without much struggle, he abandoned his bi-weekly visits to his favorite hair stylist, opting for a local barbershop instead. He purchased the most horrible suit he could find on the sale rack at Men's Wearhouse, ordered a pair of glasses with fake lenses in them, and worked on slouching and sticking out his neck. When, two weeks later, Dennis showed up in all his geek glory on the doorstep of his boss's office, the Bostoff case was his and so was the office pool – to Laskin's relief, Dennis had won the bet. Now he had to prove that he deserved the assignment.

***

The next morning, Janet left for work in much better spirits than the day before. All in all, Bostoff Securities was shaping up to be a far better gig than she had expected. Lisa Foley was still Lisa Foley, but yesterday's lunch with Tom Wyman proved that now Janet was much better equipped to handle her high school friend than when she was a teenager. Despite Lisa's efforts to steal the limelight, Tom's attention did not stray from Janet throughout the meal, and while Janet intended keeping her interactions with Tom Wyman on a strictly professional level, she would be a liar to deny that her scheduled meeting with Tom this morning did not contribute to her uplifted spirits.

At a quarter to nine, Janet was approaching the Bostoff Securities building. Midtown was mayhem compared to downtown, but her commute from Second Avenue and Ninetieth Street had been shortened by twenty minutes. Tempted by the sight of pastries in the nearby coffee shop window, Janet made a quick stop to grab breakfast to go. After all, she had skipped dinner last night, which, considering the huge lunch she had indulged in, was no great sacrifice, but it was still better than nothing. This morning she would allow herself to indulge in hazelnut coffee with extra half and half and a croissant, but tomorrow it would be yogurt or oatmeal.

Janet entered the marble lobby of Bostoff Securities and pressed her floor button. The elevator doors opened, and she gingerly stepped out, straining to recall the shortcut to her office Lisa had shown her the day before. The details were fuzzy now. After a moment's hesitation, she walked through one of the doors. As Janet made her way through the double doors, she heard a loud buzz of human, mostly male, voices. A few moments later, she found herself smack in the middle of the trading floor. Seemingly endless rows of desks with stacked-up computer monitors stretched the entire length of the room, which had to be the size of ten basketball courts – or maybe it was five basketball courts – she could not tell exactly. Everywhere there were men dressed in slacks and collared shirts with their sleeves rolled up. Some wore ties and had their suit jackets flung over the backs of their chairs. The average age had to be between twenty-five to thirty, and the atmosphere was that of startling chaos: jokes and yells flying across the room, feet being put up on desks, and paper being thrown on the floor. Janet straightened her back, doing her best to look as though she belonged. "Must not show fear," a line she had heard a wild animal trainer utter on the Discovery channel popped into her mind. The advice seemed applicable now, as the floor of Bostoff Securities was very much a jungle. Janet kept making her way down the trading floor aisle for several more agonizing minutes when she finally saw another set of doors. Fighting the urge to lunge for the door handle, she steadily opened the door and found herself in the corridor that Lisa had shown her the day before. A few steps to the right was the door to Janet's office.

The corridor was empty, and abandoning all restraint, Janet rushed inside her office and shut the door behind her. The offices at Bostoff Securities were sturdy: there was none of the see-through flimsiness of glass, but the reassuring impenetrability of solid wood. Glad of the privacy, Janet pressed her back against the door and took deep breaths. Calm down, she thought, you're going to be working with these people and you can't run for cover every time you need to get something done.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm almost done here," a male voice made Janet drop her purse on the floor. At least it was not her breakfast, which she was still clutching in her hand. Janet picked up her purse and touched her pinned up hair for reassurance. Whenever she was in distress, her neat hairdo was always a source of comfort.

"I was running late," she blurted out, immediately regretting her words. This was, after all, her office.

"First day, huh?" The bespectacled man sitting behind Janet's desk smiled at her, and she could not help noticing that he had really lovely blue-gray eyes.

"Second day, actually," Janet replied curtly, wondering how best to broach the subject of the unknown stranger taking over her office.

"Oh, I'm sorry, this is very clumsy of me. I'm Dean, Dean Snider, IT." The man jumped to his feet, sticking out his hand for a handshake. "I was just sent in to set up your computer, so I assumed that today is your first day."

Janet placed her purse on her desk and shook Dean's hand, sneaking a better look at him. He was wearing clothes that were too short for his height and slouching when he should be standing up tall, but this goofiness rendered him an unlikely kind of charm.

"Yesterday was more of an orientation than hands-on work," Janet improvised a description of her work, which, honestly speaking, had not involved any work at all.

"Well, that's no skin off anyone's nose." Dean grinned. "One thing I found in this place is that work will always be here for you the next day. Sometimes it helps to take a breather and reassess things."

Sensing Dean's glance lingering on her, Janet looked up. She was not used to IT specialists giving work advice to lawyers.

Dean squinted at the computer monitor. "I'm all done here. Your email is up and running, and so is the rest of your computer. Have a good one – don't work too hard."

Once the door behind the IT support guy closed, Janet settled in her chair. This had certainly been an eventful morning. She reached for her by now lukewarm coffee and took a sip. Then she took a bite of her croissant, but could take no pleasure in either one. For reasons unknown to her, the IT guy's remark was humming in her head. What was his name? Dean, Dean Snider, that's right. "Sometimes it helps to take a breather and reassess things." No doubt Dean was simply making small talk, but something in his tone made Janet uneasy.

Janet dumped the rest of her croissant into the garbage bin and opened the orientation package she had received the day before. She had meant to look at it yesterday, but had been too woozy from the wine-laced lunch with Lisa and Tom. At the top of the pile were five different non-disclosure agreements. According to the terms and conditions of her employment at Bostoff Securities, she was virtually prohibited from mentioning anything other than her title and the fact that she worked at Bostoff. This was odd to say the least. At the DA's office she had worked on confidential investigations, but she never had to sign such elaborate disclosures before. Perplexed, Janet put the forms aside. She would have a word with Lisa about them later.

Remembering her appointment with Tom Wyman, Janet checked her watch. It was ten thirty a.m., and she was due to see Tom at eleven. She grabbed her handbag and headed for the ladies' room. Yes, it was silly, but she wanted to touch up her makeup for Tom. Not that she was interested in him: he was a colleague, but that did not mean that she couldn't enjoy Tom's attention.

Janet examined her reflection in the ladies' room mirror. Today she had opted for a less conservative outfit of a navy pencil skirt and silk blouse with a bow-tie detail. The 1980's inspired combination was very much in style at the moment. Janet had to admit that she was pleased with what she saw: the skirt ended just at the knee, exposing her favorite part of her legs: her calves, which were elongated by her three-inch heels. The pointy-toed black patent leather Mary Janes were not the most comfortable shoes in her closet, but they were by far the most flattering. The blue-green pattern of the blouse brought out her green eyes, and the bow-tie detail accentuated the slightly lower than average neckline, while her neatly put up chestnut hair provided the necessary counterweight to make her outfit office-appropriate. She looked like a sexy librarian, minus the glasses. If Janet knew anything about men, she was certain that Tom Wyman would be intrigued. She quickly reapplied her lipstick and dusted a light coat of powder over her face. She did not need any blush since her cheeks were already pink with anticipation.

At a quarter to eleven, Janet was back at her desk. For reasons beyond the powers of her common sense, her heart was palpitating with expectation. Her reaction was absurd, and she was the first to admit it. But right now her mind had the rationale and the clarity of that of an oversexed teenager, and she was powerless to control it. Yet again Lisa had prevailed – thanks to her meddling, a business meeting had acquired romantic connotations, fraught with nerve-wracking anticipations of a date, which Janet very well knew her meeting with Tom was not. Yet she could not help acting as though it were... But then it was dishonest to lay the blame entirely on Lisa, for Janet knew full well the underlying cause of her flustered state – after being backstabbed and dumped by her boyfriend of almost five years, her confidence was not what it used to be, and say what she might about keeping her relationship with Tom Wyman purely professional, she could not deny that the attention of this handsome and successful man would be a welcome poultice for her bruised ego.

A knock on her office door made Janet jump up in her seat. She looked at her watch. It was eleven o'clock on the dot. "Janet?"

"Hi, Tom." Janet slowly looked up from her computer screen. She might have spent the last hour agonizing over her meeting with Tom, but he did not need to know that: to him, she was a busy lawyer in a leading securities firm. So what if her computer monitor merely had her email screen? Thankfully, even a man as suave as Tom Wyman did not possess x-ray vision.

"So nice to see you again, Janet." Wyman beamed her a smile that could put a Colgate commercial to shame. "So how do you find your second day at the firm?"

Janet sensed Tom's eyes gliding from her face to the neckline of her blouse. "Great, thank you. I've just been going through some paperwork."

"Ah, yes, the infamous non-disclosure paperwork, which I'm proud to say I personally drafted."

Janet shot Tom a curious glance, unsure whether to voice her concerns.

"It's nothing to be alarmed about," Tom addressed her silent question. "For someone like yourself, the paperwork is a mere formality. We legal folks are more than aware of the importance of confidentiality, but some of the traders we've got working here may not be as sensitive... The biggest risk comes with disgruntled employees who are out to take their revenge on the firm by spreading false rumors. The purpose of the non-disclosure paperwork is to stop them from doing just that."

"I see." Janet nodded. "I'll have it completed shortly."

"So, are you ready for an overview of Bostoff Securities' business model?" Tom grabbed a chair and placed it next to Janet's. Suddenly, her office seemed incredibly small.

Janet could feel Wyman's breath touch her skin where it was exposed by the low cut of her blouse. Perhaps she should have opted for a different outfit after all. "We could go into a conference room."

"Why bother? It's nice and cozy in here."

Tom's knee brushed against Janet's thigh. She froze like a rabbit hypnotized by a python. Her earlier plans to flirt with Tom Wyman seemed juvenile now. She was no match for her overpowering opponent. Tom Wyman was not the kind of man to be toyed around with: he expected a woman to either go all in or stay out of his way. And Janet certainly was not ready to go all in.

Janet's thoughts must have been plastered all over her face because a moment later, Tom pushed his chair away from hers.

"Right, so here's a quick overview of Bostoff's structure." Tom opened his briefcase, laying a thick manila folder on the desk. "This is a chart of all the entities that Bostoff Securities owns."

"I see." Janet hoped that her bewilderment was not apparent on her face as she examined the chart of Bostoff entities. She had never seen a corporate chart so convoluted, but she did not yet know enough about Bostoff's business to ask intelligent questions, so she decided to listen to Wyman for fear of appearing a novice. After all, Tom was a partner at Ridley Simpson, which was a top-ten national law firm, and the corporate structure he approved had to be legitimate.

"Bostoff strives to keep as much of its business offshore as possible. As long as it is within the permitted legal and regulatory framework, of course," Wyman added quickly. "As far as the actual creation of offshore entities is concerned, the process has pretty much been streamlined, so you won't have to be concerned about anything there. I'll take care of that." Tom smiled. "Your judgment will be needed when new business ventures come up—that's when you are to notify me to devise a game plan."

Janet felt her face grow warm. She might not have Tom Wyman's expertise, but she was not going to sit on her butt, deferring all decisions to him. At least she hoped that that was not the 'job' that Lisa had hired her for.

"I thought Lisa had explained the structure to you already. Bostoff keeps a very lean internal legal staff, with the bulk of the work outsourced to yours truly," said Wyman.

"Lisa gave me a cursory overview," Janet lied. Other than her title, Lisa had hardly explained the details of Janet's employment at Bostoff Securities at all, but when faced with a choice between being a department store clerk and an assistant general counsel at Bostoff Securities, the latter seemed like a much more attractive option, at least at the time. "I look forward to working with you, Tom." Janet conjured up her most guileless smile. "These structures seem so complicated. I will need all the help I can get to get up to speed."

"Not to worry, Janet. That's what I'm here for. Now, let's go over some of the recently created entities..."

An hour later, Janet found her head spinning from all the information that Tom Wyman had imparted on her. He had assured her that Bostoff Securities' structure was perfectly legitimate, but while Wyman's flowery assurances were spoken with much confidence, Janet felt a steady sense of unease growing inside her.

### Chapter 3

Dennis Walker was giving himself a mental browbeating for nearly blowing his cover. What on earth had possessed him to get all mushy with that stand-offish girl whose computer he had been fixing or, to be more specific, bugging? Well, actually, Dennis knew perfectly well what had possessed him. The girl was damn good-looking, and if he had to admit to having any weaknesses, it was to not being able to pass by a pretty skirt without looking and, preferably, much more than just looking. Still, this was work – not play, and if he wanted to get that promotion he had set his eyes on since he had started his career in the Department of Treasury Investigations Unit, he'd better get his mind out of the gutter and get focused on the game.

Still, even with today's minor lapse, Dennis could afford to pat himself on the back: he had already tapped into the most critical employees' computers, and the data that he needed to substantiate the case was flowing in. The most difficult part of his assignment would be to remain undiscovered, which, as the morning had shown, was going to be much trickier than Dennis had anticipated. Playing the role of Dean Snider was proving to be more challenging than he had expected. Dennis was a naturally social creature who was keenly aware of his masculine charms, which he enjoyed exercising on members of the female sex with great success. Dean Snider, on the other hand, was a mousy and shabbily pathetic excuse of a man who was afraid of his own shadow – a role that Dennis detested playing, but was determined to excel at, lest his boss prove to be correct in his initial intention to give the assignment to Laskin. Dennis scratched his neck, which was beginning to chafe from the rigid collar of his cheap shirt, and focused his attention on his computer monitor.

As a senior member of the IT department at Bostoff Securities, Dennis had the administrative rights to computers of the firm's employees, which allowed him to install data gathering software. The software was transferring the data from Bostoff's computers over a web-based connection to the Treasury analysts. Dennis had the option of viewing real-time data, but the fact that his desk was smack in the middle of the trading floor made matters difficult. With a title like Chief IT Analyst, Dennis had expected to be allotted an office or at least a cubicle, but apparently Bostoff Securities was short on real estate. Thankfully, initial data sorting was conducted by junior analysts at the Treasury. In the evenings, after having spent the day behind his desk at Bostoff, Dennis would catch up on the reports in the privacy of his home office. A work schedule that intense would pretty much eliminate any presence of social life for the duration of the assignment, but Dennis was used to making sacrifices when they were warranted.

The mere opportunity of infiltrating Bostoff was a huge stroke of luck. Who would have thought that Bostoff would post an opening for an IT specialist just as the Treasury Investigations department was looking for a way to gather additional evidence to build their case? The chances were zero to none, and yet, an opening had come up. Some would call it happenstance, some divine providence, and some pure dumb luck. But if anyone had asked Dennis for an explanation of this fortuitous timing, he would have replied simply: the bad guys always got caught because, sooner or later, they always got sloppy.

Dennis Walker had a multitude of talents to his name, but superior knowledge of IT was not one of them. He had picked up plenty of tricks during his employment with the Treasury – enough to make him seem like a computer pro to a person possessing average prowess in computers. But Head of IT at Bostoff would not be someone with average prowess, or so Dennis had thought when he had begun his prep work for the interview, which had involved spending five hours a day with the top analysts of Treasury IT department. Even so, Dennis was nervous when the interview day came. Once he met his boss-to-be, Warren Merchant, Dennis knew he was safe. After a fifteen minute conversation, it became apparent that Warren Merchant knew about as much about IT infrastructure as Dennis knew about classical ballet, which was not much. Apparently, Bostoff Securities was not all that discerning when it came to hiring staff for the support functions – a factor that played to Dennis's advantage. Not only did Warren Merchant give him the job, he would be unable to detect the spyware Dennis had installed on the company computers if his life depended on it.

All in all, Dennis had every right to be pleased with his progress so far, and yet, he could not help the uneasiness in his chest. Everything that he had learned about Bostoff Securities so far indicated that the firm was knee-deep in financial violations. Dennis had no compunction about putting away the top brass who were the organizers and the leaders of the corrupt scheme, but, invariably, the rest of the employees would get caught in the mix. People who worked simple jobs without having an inkling about the corruptness of their employer would end up unemployed, with blemished resumés to boot. Such thoughts had rarely troubled Dennis during his previous investigations, but then this was going to be his biggest case to date...

Still, Dennis had not been bothered with such scrupulous considerations when he had set out to bug Bostoff Securities' newly hired lawyer's computer. But after meeting Janet Maple face to face, he wished he had left her off the radar. After all, she was only a junior lawyer, and Dennis already knew that all the important legal work was being farmed out to Ridley Simpson law firm, specifically to the slickster, Tom Wyman. Now, Wyman's computer would be worth bugging, but during his visits to Bostoff, Tom Wyman always used his personal laptop, which made it virtually impossible for Dennis to gain access to it. It would take time to gather evidence for the case, and Dennis hoped that for her sake, Janet Maple would find other employment in the meantime. An employment record with a corrupt firm would not be a plus on any lawyer's resume, and Dennis certainly did not want to be the one responsible for a pretty woman's loss of her ability to earn a living.

End of Chapter 3

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Please read on for an excerpt from _Catching the Bad Guy,_ book two of the Janet Maple Series _._

# Excerpt from Catching the Bad Guy

(Book Two of the Janet Maple Series)

By

Marie Astor

Chapter 1

"There's my favorite investigator." Dennis Walker sauntered into Janet Maple's office without bothering to knock. Dennis Walker never knocked. He simply barged in unannounced, the same way he had barged into Janet's life a little over a year ago, turning it upside down.

Her fingers tingling from furious typing, Janet looked up from her computer screen. "Today is the big day, huh?" Janet kept her voice cool, making a mental effort not to ogle Dennis's freshly tanned face. The man would look good even if he were pasty white, not that Dennis's silky-smooth complexion had ever been pasty white, not even in the dead of winter. But now he looked dangerously handsome. "How was your vacation? Puerto Rico, was it?"

"Turks and Caicos, and it was wonderful."

Janet nodded. She knew that. She had known the destination of Dennis's getaway ever since he had posted his vacation schedule on the department calendar two months ago, and she had spent weeks visualizing his trip: Dennis stretched on a lounge chair, sipping one of those resort drinks from a coconut with a dark-eyed lanky brunette lying by his side, or perhaps a blue-eyed blonde. When it came to women, Dennis had only one requirement: they had to be drop-dead gorgeous. Apparently, Janet Maple was not gorgeous enough for Dennis Walker.

"You look like you could use a break, Janet." Dennis's comment made Janet conscious of the dark circles under her eyes, which so far were her only reward for burning the midnight oil at work.

"Not everyone has the luxury of taking a week off before the most important case hearing of one's career."

Dennis's eyes locked on Janet's, his glance acknowledging their never-ending game of verbal tennis. "As I told my boss, I had scheduled my vacation months in advance; the case hearing had been moved three times. I have a life, you know, and I can't be at the Enforcement Division's beck and call."

"Can you believe the momentum the case has gained?" Janet steered the conversation away from the alarming subject of Dennis's private life, the details of which, despite all the hours she had spent pondering the subject, she wanted to know as little as possible.

"I know. We did all the groundwork and then every single regulator jumped on the bandwagon, including your former alma mater, the Manhattan District Attorney's Office."

Janet felt the usual sting of chagrin that the mention of her former employer never failed to trigger. Yes, her legal career had begun with a position of assistant district attorney at the Manhattan District Attorney's Office, but her promising start fizzled to a disappointing conclusion after she was downsized from the DA's office in the middle of an important case.

As if reading her thoughts, or more likely her expression, Dennis cleared his throat. "David Muller has wreaked enough havoc. It's high time he was brought to justice."

"I sure hope that's going to be the case."

Dennis frowned. "Why the hesitation?"

"For the very same reason you just mentioned: the case hearing has been postponed three times already."

"I guess we'll find out soon enough."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door of Janet's office. The head of the Investigations department, Hamilton Kirk, stood in the doorway. "Dennis, Janet, may I speak to you a minute?" As always, Ham's facial expression was inscrutable, but the serendipity of his appearance made Janet look at her watch. It was after three p.m.: the Emperial case decision had to have been reached by now, and if the news were good even Hamilton Kirk would not have been able to resist the joy of announcing it.

"Of course, Ham." Dennis's tone was smooth, but not smooth enough for Janet to miss the hidden notes of apprehension in his voice.

Together, Janet and Dennis followed Ham into his office. Just why Ham had to insist on going to his office was beyond Janet. Although much smaller in size, her office would have provided sufficient privacy for their discussion, but then she had gotten used to not questioning Ham's idiosyncrasies.

The moment they reached Ham's office, Janet understood her boss's request. Hamilton Kirk had worked for various departments of the Treasury for over twenty years, during which he had acquired vast office paraphernalia—certifications and commendatory plaques, reference guides, and never-ending stacks of bulging folders that contained case materials—but now all of these items were neatly packed in cardboard boxes that lined the floor of Ham's office.

Both Janet and Dennis looked questioningly at Ham.

"I'm sorry, team," Ham paused to swallow. "As of today I'm retired."

"Retired? And you are springing this on us now, when you're already packed?" Dennis eyed Ham reproachfully.

Ham patted Dennis's shoulder. "I only found out this morning myself."

Janet had to make an effort to keep her jaw from dropping. "What do you mean?"

With a sigh, Ham stepped over the row of boxes and sat behind his desk. "Sit down, you two."

Mechanically, Janet and Dennis sank into the chairs opposite Ham's desk.

"I know that our job is not easy: we try to do what's right the best way we can with the few resources we have, and, let's admit it, on measly pay. I have worked in this place for over twenty years, and until this morning I still believed in such a thing as justice. But now I know that I have been a naïve fool." Ham shook his head. "They are kicking me out—"

"Who's kicking you out, Ham?" Dennis cut in.

Ham went on, ignoring Dennis's question. "Although I must say that the severance package is quite generous. Finally, my long-awaited dream of retirement has come true—the only funny thing is, is that now that it's here it doesn't feel nearly as good as I thought it would. In fact, it feels like being thrown out into a dumpster."

"Who is kicking you out, Ham?" Dennis repeated.

"My boss," Ham replied simply. "I've worked for the man for over ten years. This morning he calls me up from Washington. 'Ham,' he says, 'it's been wonderful to have you with us. In recognition of your stellar service, the most notable of which was your work on the Emperial case, your pension is now fully vested. Your retirement starts today.'" Ham shook his head. "He didn't even have the decency to give it to me straight."

"Give what to you straight?" Dennis demanded.

"Oh, come on, Dennis. If you plan to stay in this trade you've got to wise up or you'll end up an old fool like me. David Muller has friends in high places. As of this morning, the Emperial case has been dismissed by our Enforcement Division for lack of evidence. I am now retired, and next week your new boss will be coming in. His name is Alex Kingsley. He's some young hot shot from the DA's office."

"Alex Kingsley?!" Janet exclaimed.

Dennis shot Janet a sharp look. "Why, you know him?"

"Briefly," Janet replied, cursing her cracked voice and flushed face for betraying her agitation. "We've worked together," she added noncommittally. After all, she could not very well admit that Alex had been much more than her coworker at the DA's office. Janet had known Alex since they had met at Columbia Law, from which they had graduated in the same class. Alex had been her boyfriend for almost five years; he had been the man she had thought would be the one. And last but not least, not only had Alex taken credit for Janet's work on most of the cases that the two of them had been assigned to at the DA's office, he got a promotion that should have been Janet's. Then he put the icing on the cake by breaking up with her and suggesting that they remain friends. Needless to say, Janet had refused, and several weeks later she had been downsized.

"Who is this guy? Does he have the credentials for the job?" Dennis asked.

"Er..." Janet's face grew warm. Her personal opinion of Alex was that he was not worth the ground he walked on, but then she was biased. Alex did graduate from Columbia Law, albeit only because Janet had contributed to that fact substantially by letting him copy her homework assignments and class notes, but who was counting, right?

"Dennis, listen to me," Ham snapped. "As far as the big men at the top are concerned, Kingsley's qualifications are irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that he's the man they want for the job, and I'm not." Ham looked away. "All the years of hard work down the drain... If there's one thing I learned through this experience is that moral flexibility is paramount. If I had caved in when they told me, I would still have my job today."

"What do you mean, caved in?" Dennis asked.

"Our Enforcement Division had postponed the hearing three times. I should have gotten the hint."

"You mean they are in on it?" Janet blurted out.

"Hank Dooley, the chief of Enforcement, is a political shark. He's got his eyes set on Washington, and he'll do anything to get there—" Ham broke off, shaking his head. "There's no use talking about this now: what's done is done, and I don't intend to spend my time dwelling on the past. As much as I've enjoyed chatting with you young people, I ought to get going. I have a dinner date with my wife, and Neely doesn't like it when I'm late. Boy, she's going to be excited about the retirement package." Ham rubbed his chin, his eyes brightening up. "You know, I think I'm starting to warm to this retirement idea after all."

"We'll miss you, Ham." Dennis's voice was somber and sincere. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, both of you. This is not the way I expected my career to end, but when life slips you lemons the only thing to do is to try to turn them into lemonade. Make nice to the new boss. I hear he's been told to clean ship, so don't give him any pretext to do so." Ham rose from the chair and extended his hand to Janet. "The few months we've worked together have been a pleasure, Janet. I'm sure you'll have a stellar career, regardless of where it might be."

"Thank you, Ham." Janet tried not to read too much into the "wherever it might be" part.

"Dennis, I don't mean to sound patronizing, but you were truly like a son to me and you always will be. I know I busted your chops at times, but that was only because I wanted to see you reach your full potential. You are a damn good investigator, and if it were up to me I would name you as my successor. But, as things stand, it's no longer up to me. I hope there won't be any hard feelings."

"None, sir. Thank you, sir. It has been an honor and a pleasure to have worked with you."

Ham nodded. "Thank you, son. I'd better get packing: they want me off the premises by five."

"Goodbye, sir." Janet took one last look at Hamilton Kirk. Unlike Dennis, she had not worked with the man for long, but in the brief time that she had known Ham she had grown to respect him greatly. Ham was honest, principled, and fair. These were qualities that were rare in any man and were certainly not among the traits that Alex Kingsley possessed.

### Chapter 2

Janet Maple stared at her cup of coffee and untouched bagel. She did not have much of an appetite this morning, but neither would most people in her situation: having your ex as your new boss was not exactly a heart-warming prospect.

There was a knock on the door of her office. "Come in," Janet called out.

"Janet?" Ann Smith, Ham Kirk's former secretary, walked into Janet's office. Ann had worked for Ham for the past ten years. The shock of the previous day's events was written on her face.

"Hi, Ann." Janet was always glad to see Ann, but this morning she was especially so. She was about to say how horrible it was that Ham had been let go, but Ann interrupted her.

"Janet, Mr. Kingsley would like to see you." Ann's lips were drawn together and her eyes downcast.

The idea of Alex being addressed as Mr. Kingsley seemed preposterous. "But he wasn't supposed to start until next week."

"Apparently, his start date has been moved up," Ann replied matter-of-factly. "He said he wanted to see you right away."

Janet was about to ask her what it was about, but seeing the closed-off expression on Ann's face, decided against it. "Very well. Tell him I'll be right there."

After Ann left, Janet took a moment to collect her bearings. The thought of Alex—correction, Mr. Alex Kingsley—made her cringe. The man was positively evil: suave, ambitious, and pretentious beyond bounds. The pompous prick did not even have the decency to say hello. Instead, he had sent his secretary to do his bidding.

On her way to Alex's office, Janet stopped by Ann's desk and immediately understood the reason behind Ann's strange behavior: Ann's cubicle was filled with cardboard boxes. "Ann, I'm so sorry." Janet touched Ann's shoulder.

"I was offered a generous severance package, and I opted to take it," Ann replied evenly.

"But he can't just force you out! You've worked here for years!"

Ann looked away. "I believe that Mr. Kingsley will be hiring an assistant of his own choosing. My severance is conditional on the confidentiality agreement that I signed," Ann added.

Janet shook her head: it had not even been twenty-four hours since Alex's arrival but already he was reshaping the department according to his needs. "I understand. Good luck, Ann. I sure will miss you."

Alex's office door was open, but Alex was busy looking at something on his computer screen.

Janet knocked and waited for Alex to acknowledge her presence. In the few hours that Alex had been the occupant of Ham's old office, he had transformed the space into an unrecognizable state. Ham's modest office furniture had been replaced with an antique wooden desk and two plush armchairs that faced it. The chair that Alex sat on looked like a throne made of leather. The formerly empty walls were now lined with paintings in heavy frames. Next to Alex's desk stood a gigantic bookcase with glass doors; its shelves were filled with law tomes with brand new bindings.

"Janet, how wonderful to see you!" With his arms outstretched, Alex rose from his chair.

End of Chapter 2

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