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chest. “You’re leaving? You’re really going to leave me like this?”
    A person could be left like this in about a million ways, but if Daniel Silva was saying those words, there was only one way.
    “Until tomorrow night.”
    “There is a way you could help me out, you know.” Suggestion dripped from his voice. “A way that wouldn’t technically qualify as me fucking you on the roof.”
    Optimistic, relentless bastard.
    “Sorry,” I said with a wave of my hand, “I never give head before I get it.”
    There was a few moments’ pause while that settled in.
    “You are the most intriguing creature I’ve come across,” Daniel replied as I swung the door open.
    “I know,” I said to myself as I headed down the stairs.
     

 
     

     
     
    DANIEL SILVA WAS getting nailed tonight.
    In every way a man could. I’d done my job and done it well. Of course it would figure that when I’d finally landed in a city I could spend the rest of my life in, I moved the Target through the stages of seduction in next to record time. When the Target was a douchebag to Daniel’s degree, I only took my time getting him into bed only out of respect for the wife. I could have been in his bed the night I’d met him, but timing was everything in my career. Just as taking too long was a detriment to wrapping the case up with a big bow, so was taking too little. Just under one week was a little fast, but still within the acceptable realm.
    I’d texted G last night letting her know tonight was the night, and I’d texted Mrs. Silva the address, time, and suite of where Mr. Silva could be, literally, caught with his pants down. As long as she didn’t drop the ball. Considering all of the intricate pieces to the game, making sure a P.I. or detective had a camera ready at a certain time was a preschool task. I’d never had a Client fail me, and if that day ever came, there’d be hell to pay. From G and me.
    With most jobs, I’d take care selecting just the right lingerie. If the Target had suddenly grown a conscious, the lace, or the bustier, or whatever his preference in the unmentionables department was would send him over the unsure edge. Daniel Silva, though, wasn’t in danger of growing a conscious. I could have showed up in a jumpsuit, and he would have been hard before I stepped inside the suite.
    Since a particular shade or style of lingerie wasn’t an issue, I went with none at all. Other than the red lace dress, that was short, tight, and off-the-shoulders, I wore nothing else. Well, I had some heels on, too. Having less to take off meant less actual time spent with Daniel Silva.
    I knew having sex with a man I detested was a deplorable concept. I also knew if the Eves were ever made public, the scrutiny would be instant and overwhelming. But those who would turn their judgey little fingers our way wouldn’t be the ones who knew how it felt to have your entire world crumble around you because of one man. They wouldn’t know how it felt to invest your time and your dreams in one person only to discover they were fucking someone else behind your back. They wouldn’t know the utter devastation of betrayal and the loss of self that ensued. They wouldn’t know how our Clients felt knowing that freedom meant financial and social ruin. They wouldn’t understand any of it.
    And that was all right. Because I did.
    I knew how it felt to have my whole life ruined because I’d been stupid enough to fall in love.
    I knew. And I’d never forget.
    As I punched the gas behind the wheel of the 640, I knew the Miami scene wasn’t the only thing I’d miss. I was always assigned a sweet car, but this one was especially sweet. As much as I loved the car though, it wasn’t worth spending another day with Daniel.
    As I pulled up to the valet outside of The Presidential Hotel, I checked to make sure I was as removed from myself as possible. I needed to be sharp enough I didn’t make a slip, but I had to remove myself enough that my