Kelly closed her eyes. It was already ugly. And the fact that Rodriguez wasn’t communicating was cause for concern. She hadn’t noticed a gag, but then she’d only had a second to process the scene. “Backup is going to be here in a minute. As of right now, we don’t have anything but assault on you.”

“I’m a three-striker, lady. Doesn’t matter.”

“It will when you’re facing federal prison time. Believe me, they’re a hell of a lot worse.”

He laughed again. “You don’t got a prison that can scare me.”

Kelly recognized the accent, southern Tennessee. “You don’t want to do this.”

“You kidding? I been waiting all my life for a hostage like this one. Play my cards right, I leave here in a helicopter, end up in Aruba.”

“It never ends that way.”

“Nope. But if I’m going down, it’ll be fighting.”

Kelly chewed her lower lip and silently cursed Rodriguez for being such an idiot; the bartender, for being completely insane; and herself, for not leaving the FBI a few months ago. Only fifty-one FBI agents had been killed on active duty in the entire history of the Bureau. One of those had been her former partner. If she contributed another, she might as well turn in her badge tonight. “You really want that? Hostage negotiators, snipers, lasers on your chest? It’ll get messy.”

“Will it get me on TV?”

The bartender was smarter than he looked, and didn’t sound scared. Not a good combination. Kelly decided to try another tack. “There are two shots in there-that’s if you had a chance to reload. How far do you actually think that will get you?”

“Far enough.”

The sound of running boots, then chatter as the responding officers explained the situation. Out of her peripheral vision she caught a flash of blue. Kelly spun, finger beside the trigger, but someone caught her hand. She let out her breath when she saw Phoenix SWAT lining up behind her, out of sight of the door. The commander leaned close and asked, “How many?”

“One that I’ve seen. Double-barrel shotgun, assume it’s fully loaded. Agent Rodriguez is on a chair about three feet to the right.”

The commander issued a series of complicated hand signals to the rest of the team. He put a hand on her shoulder, motioning for Kelly to move behind them and out of the way. She shifted down the line.

“Hey lady, I’m getting lonely in here.”

She glanced at the commander, who nodded. “I’m still here,” she responded.

“You know, I always had a soft spot for redheads. Maybe you should come in, get down on your knees and show me what you can-”

The rest of his thought was sliced off by an explosion. Kelly twisted her head away, seeing stars. The SWAT team swarmed the room on the heels of the flashbang, barking commands. Kelly waited, braced for the sound of gunfire. A full minute passed, the smoke slowly dissipating. Finally, the commander stuck his head out. “All clear if you want to come in.”

Kelly entered the room. The bartender was on his belly, hands cuffed, tears streaming down his face. It would be a while before his vision and hearing returned to normal. Shame that the damage wasn’t permanent, she thought, quickly examining Rodriguez. He was tied to a chair, suit and shirt streaked with blood. His face looked like someone had worked it over with a bag of nickels. Considering this crew, maybe they had. His head lolled to the side. He was conscious, but barely. She knelt beside him and untied his hands.

“Agent Rodriguez.”

One eye squinted open.

“There’s a bus outside, I told them to bring in a stretcher,” the SWAT commander said.

Kelly nodded her thanks. “Did you get anything out of them?” she asked Rodriguez.

He made a strange sound, choked and garbled. It took her a second to recognize it as a laugh.

“That’s all right. I’ll see you at the hospital.” She got out of the way as two paramedics rushed in a stretcher. She could press for more details after he’d been treated. Rodriguez looked like crap, but the kind of crap that was survivable. Hopefully he’d have something. From the look of things, they hadn’t intended to keep him alive. No reason for them not to talk freely. At least if he’d overheard something, the afternoon wouldn’t be a total disaster.

Kelly stepped outside as the bartender was being led to a paddy wagon packed with his cohorts. “Not him,” she called to the officer.

He turned, puzzled.

“He rides in a car alone. And I want him kept separate from the others at holding.”

The officer shrugged. It was the same guy who looked at her disparagingly when he arrived as backup. “Not a problem.” He led the bartender to his squad car, making sure to knock his head on the frame as he pushed him into the backseat. The bartender grunted but didn’t say anything.

Kelly turned back to the SWAT commander. “You got this?”

“Sure. Worst of it’s over, now we just secure the site. We’ll get some patrol officers to handle it.”

“Great. I’ll give my statement at the station. Then I want to start on the interviews.”

“Looks like it’ll be a long night, huh?”

“That actually sounds optimistic,” Kelly tossed back as she headed to her car.

Jake lay on the bed in his hotel room, hands crossed behind his head, remembering the last time he saw Kelly. She’d come up to New York for a visit, one of their typical morning train up Saturday/evening train home Sunday weekends. Never enough time, but at least he got to fall asleep with his arms around her for a change. After indulging in too much paella and sangria at a Spanish restaurant in the West Village, they decided to walk back to his place. For late May it was unseasonably warm, a mini heat wave, and the magnolia trees were in full bloom.

Kelly’s dress was as red as her hair and she was laughing at something he’d said. She was framed by the glowing margins of a streetlight and he couldn’t help himself, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. Usually she’d never tolerate that, she hated public displays of affection. But that night she’d had enough wine to make her tipsy and she melted into him, his hands on the smooth silk of her waist, her fingers in his hair, one of those times when a kiss was so much more than the meeting of lips. It was as close to a perfect moment as he’d ever gotten.

His phone rang, shattering the reflection. He checked the caller ID: Syd.

“Hey,” he said. “Find anything on Parrish or Krex?”

“Not a damn thing.”

Jake heard a garbled loudspeaker in the background. “Where are you?”

“JFK. I’m flying out to meet you.”

“Yeah?” Jake sat up and set his stocking feet on the floor. “You sure?”

“I’m sure that if I spend another day alone in that office, I’ll be tempted to take a diver off the roof. Seriously, we need to hire a secretary.” Syd paused before continuing, “Besides, I’ll have my laptop and cell phone. No need for me to be chained to a desk.”

Jake grinned. “I didn’t realize the decorators got around to installing the chains.”

“Funny guy. You okay with this?”

“Sure, I could use the company. Another day with Randall and I might be tempted to take a diver myself.” He was going to ask what she saw in the guy, but let it drop. “I was wondering how long you’d tolerate being an indoor cat.”

“Yeah, well. It was worth a try. Where do we start?”

“Tomorrow I’m cruising by a biker clubhouse in Stockton -the warden’s file says Dante Parrish hung out there before he got arrested. Figure some of his old prison buddies might be hanging around.”

“I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to talk to you.” Syd scoffed.

“Probably not. But you, on the other hand, they’re gonna love.”

“I do have a way with a Harley.”

Jake laughed. “I’ll bet. Anyway, we might find someone Parrish pissed off who knows where he is.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’m on the red-eye, meet me at Oakland Airport around six tomorrow morning.”