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limited scope. I don’t know how he found out about the incident with the bet. That did not come from me. I hadn’t even told my boss.”
    Whether Ross believed her or not, he’d yet to decide. Most likely, she told the truth. Knowing Samuels this was a classic maneuver on his part.
    One Ross didn’t appreciate.
    But he’d play nice. He stood and adjusted the cuffs on his sleeves simply to have something to do. A dead dealer and now Kate coming on full-time. Samuels had leveled them with all kinds of shockers today. “He’s got spies everywhere. Someone told him.”
    “Hey,” Don shot, “if havin’ a good-lookin’ redhead around all day is the worst thing, I guess I’m a lucky SOB.”
    His obvious attempt to lighten the mood fell flat and Kate gawked at him. “Do you have any idea how inappropriate that is?”
    Don held his hands out. “What?”
    Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe irritation, maybe flat-out sadness over a good man’s death, but Ross sighed. “Save it, Kate.”
    “No,” she said. “This isn’t the seventies anymore. You can’t talk to women like that in an office.”
    The hot redhead had caught on to Don’s ways fast enough. Good for her. “She’s got you nailed. Now let’s see what she does with our security.”
    Getting the hint that the meeting was over, Kate gathered her notepad and still shaking her head, stood. “I really do want to help you. I hope you know that.”
    “Look, Kate, I won’t say I’m happy you’re here. We’ve only been open a few weeks and for my boss to bring in a consultant already, it…”
    “Chaps his ass,” Don said.
    Thanks for that . “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s not ideal, but let’s do this. You figure out what you need and I’ll do my best to see you get it. I’m sure my foul-mouthed friend here feels the same.”
    The two of them turned to Don, still leaning against the windowsill. “Hey,” he said, “as far as I’m concerned, she’s got all-access. We got nothing to hide.”
    They’d better hope they didn’t.
    * * *
    Dale Cousins.
    Kate sat at the conference room table, alone, after telling Ross and Don she had calls to make.
    She sure did.
    The first being to Mark Blazedon because—newsflash—the dealer he’d told her about just that morning, the one who’d been on the FBI’s radar, was now dead.
    Murdered.
    Coincidence?
    Not a chance.
    She scrolled her contacts for Mark’s number.
    The call rang through and Kate sat back, waiting for him to answer, her mind reeling, sorting theories. Depending on how deep Mark’s inquiries about the dealer went, he might know of the death already.
    The ringing on the other end stopped.
    “Kate?” Woman’s voice.
    Who the heck did she call?
    “It’s Angel,” the woman said.
    Angel Mendez. Another agent—and friend—from the Bureau.
    “Hey, Angel. Sorry. I thought I dialed Mark.”
    “You did. I…um…answered his phone.”
    During her Bureau days, the running office gag had been to call a person’s cell while they took a bathroom break. The rookies, seeing a Bureau number usually always answered. The veterans? Not so much.
    Kate knew it still went on. Joke or no joke, agents never left their phones.
    If they did, in Kate’s experience, it wasn’t a good thing. FBI agents simply never left their phones.
    Ever.
    Unless something had gone wrong.
    “Is Mark okay?”
    Hesitation. “Kate, look. There’s been a…”
    Angel went quiet, the dead air sitting between them like a guillotine about to take someone’s head. Chatterbox Angel quiet? The only time Kate remembered Angel ever at a loss for words was after they’d worked a kidnapping case that hadn’t ended well.
    “Angel?”
    “Yes?”
    “Where’s Mark?”
    More silence. Kate’s head throbbed, the buhm, buhm, buhm, making her vision blur.
    “Kate,” Angel said, “we lost him. Mark is…dead.”

Chapter Five

    Kate slouched back in her chair, shoulders curling forward, her chest caving from the