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handle.
    â€œAnd then it dawned on me—” Kim smacked herself in the forehead with an open hand. “I suddenly realized I’m only interested in cops and firemen... . It’s like I have some sort of battered-woman syndrome ... but I’m the kind who goes for adrenaline junkies instead of bullies.” She sniffed, hanging her head. “What the hell have you done to me ... ?”
    â€œCome on, Kimmie.” Quinn moved across the aisle. She stiffened when his hand brushed her shoulder. He was sure she would have pulled away but for fear of disturbing Mattie, asleep now in her lap.
    Kim’s head suddenly snapped up, eyes probing like a CAT scan.
    â€œI mean, seriously, Jer ...” She threw up her hands. “What kind of OSI agent gets picked up in an unmarked jet and ordered back to Washington the same day someone tries to kill his family?”
    â€œI—”
    â€œOh, please ... just shut up.” Kim’s voice was a whispered hiss. “You’ll only lie. It was hard enough before—seeing that look in your eyes, only guessing how cruel you really were... .” Her lips trembled as she spoke. “Now I’ve seen the things you’re capable of firsthand ... and so has Mattie.”
    Quinn opened his mouth to speak, but Kim’s hand shot up, shushing him.
    â€œLook,” she said with an air of clench-jawed finality that shocked even Quinn. “I know we owe you our lives. I know if it wasn’t for you, we would be dead... .” Her voice trailed off, but her eyes grew cold and seething. “But, if it wasn’t for you, this never would have happened.”
    Quinn wanted to explain, to tell her there had to be people like him in the world, but it all seemed too trite to say out loud. Instead, he just sat there and took it.
    â€œStupid, stupid, stupid ...” Her chest began to heave with bitter sobs. “I ... I don’t know what I was thinking, letting you back in.”
    â€œKim,” Quinn said softly, staring at her tiny hand. “Don’t ...”
    She turned away to stare toward the flight deck, sniffing into a tissue. He’d lived with her long enough to know that when she looked away like that no amount of talking would get through to her.
    â€œI don’t know what it is you’re up to,” she whispered, still facing away. “I’m certain it’s something important—and I’m just as certain you’re good at it... . But do me a favor and leave us out of it.”
    She spun suddenly, her lips set in a tight line. “We’re divorced, Jericho. You need to start acting like it.”

C HAPTER E IGHT
    Gaithersburg, Maryland
2310 hours
    Â 
    T he two goldfish that were Ronnie Garcia’s sole dependents had miraculously figured out how to survive in a half a bowl of cloudy water feeding on their own poop. She sprinkled some shrimp flakes in the bowl and promised to change their water when she had a free minute. The fish tore after the food like little bug-eyed piranhas.
    She stripped off her polo shirt and threw it in the corner. She’d not been close enough to the men she shot to get any back splatter of blood on her, but the smell of gunfire and human pain hung to the dark blue fabric of her slacks. She loosened the straps of her ballistic vest, feeling the sudden lightness as she lifted the bulky panels over her head. She threw the vest on top of the laundry pile and took out the wooden comb she’d worn to the White House, shaking loose her hair.
    She, Veronica Garcia, had actually sat on a couch in the Oval Office and chatted with the president of the United States.
    â€œOh, Papa, if you could have seen me ...”
    The thought of it still sent a shiver down her back.
    Then she remembered the killing.
    She wished there was someone she could call, someone she could confide in. She gave a fleeting thought to calling her ex-husband, but quickly realized he would only