‘Closed up shop at two, just like always.’ Diesel’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

‘Because Jill was here when I came in this morning at 4.35. She never left last night.’

Diesel’s eyes widened. ‘What the hell? I did a sweep.’

‘Of the ladies’ room too?’ Marcus asked, and watched Diesel flinch.

‘Hell, Marcus,’ he muttered like a little kid, his face turning a dark red that women found charming – if they were lucky enough to see it. Diesel was not a man to romantically entangle himself. ‘I can’t go in there. I opened the door and said, “Hey, anybody in here?” and nobody answered.’ He shuddered. ‘I can’t go in there,’ he said again. ‘There’s . . . women stuff in there.’

Incredulous, Marcus just looked at him. ‘Are you kidding me? You have stormed enemy bunkers with bullets flying all over the damn place.’ Marcus should know – he’d been shoulder-to-shoulder with Diesel every time. ‘Are you seriously trying to tell me you’re scared of “women stuff”? What the hell, Diesel? Just . . . what the hell?’

Diesel’s glare promised retribution. ‘Why would Jill not answer me?’

Marcus sighed. ‘As it turns out, she’s been secretly intercepting incoming threats and keeping the worst of them from Gayle.’

Diesel’s expression turned glum. ‘Because of Gayle’s heart attack.’

Marcus’s eyes popped wide. ‘You knew?’

‘You didn’t?’

‘No!’ Marcus cried, exasperated. ‘I was slightly hospitalized at the time.’

‘Oh.’ Diesel frowned. ‘Yeah. I forgot about that.’

Marcus leaned over the table to slug Diesel’s shoulder. ‘You asshole. I almost died.’

‘Ow.’ Diesel rubbed his shoulder, scowling. ‘For real, I thought you knew. I figured she’d told you. I thought we were all being discreet for Gayle’s sake.’

Marcus scrubbed his palms over his face. Diesel’s social skills were less than polished. ‘How did you know?’ he asked.

Diesel shrugged. ‘I was here when it happened. Down in the basement. When I heard all the ruckus upstairs, I came up and had a look. Medics looked like they had everything under control.’ Something flickered behind his eyes. ‘So I left them alone to do their job.’

Marcus sighed, reading between the lines. Diesel had had an ‘episode’, which meant he’d gone into a panicked shutdown mode at the sight of paramedics. Diesel was a poster child for PTSD. ‘All right,’ Marcus murmured. ‘The issue is, Jill has read the threat list. She’s been fielding all the new threats, and Gayle hasn’t seen them.’

‘That could be bad,’ Diesel mumbled.

‘Yeah, it could be. Especially if she puts two and two together.’

Diesel slumped in his chair. ‘Oh, shit.’ He met Marcus’s eyes. ‘Just tell her, man. She’s okay for a kid.’

‘I can’t. Not until I know for sure.’

‘What’s that going to take?’ Diesel drained his third cup of coffee and slammed the mug back on the table. ‘A fucking blood oath?’

Marcus rolled his eyes. ‘No. But . . . I don’t know. She bothers me.’

‘Well, you’ve always been a better judge of people than me,’ Diesel conceded. ‘How are you going to keep her contained?’

‘Stone’s watching her.’

Diesel stared a second, then snorted, then threw back his head and laughed so hard that he nearly knocked his chair over. When Stone walked into the conference room, Diesel only laughed harder, until tears streamed down his cheeks.

‘What,’ Stone asked when Diesel stopped to gasp for breath, ‘is so damn funny?’

Wiping his cheeks, Diesel started laughing again, this time more quietly. ‘You,’ he said with a snicker, ‘babysitting Miss Lush-n-Lusty.’

Marcus’s eyes widened again when Stone just huffed out an angry breath and went to get his own coffee. ‘Miss Lush-n-Lusty?’ Marcus repeated. ‘Diesel, you can’t say that here. Even if it wasn’t inappropriate and just plain . . . disrespectful, it’s legally sexual harassment, and you know I won’t tolerate that.’

Diesel shrugged his shoulders, wider even than Stone’s. ‘Whatever you say, boss.’ He sat up straight, cleared his throat and, folding his hands on the table in front of him, tamed his natural growl into a sophisticated tone any butler would envy. ‘I merely found it humorous that Mr Montgomery O’Bannion would have to babysit Miss Jill Ennis.’

Stone’s glare turned glacial. He hated his given name. He’d earned the nickname Stone when he’d fallen on his head as a toddler and been pronounced unhurt by a doctor who’d proclaimed his head to be harder than a stone. The nickname had stuck, because Stone was also as stubborn as a rock. ‘Call me that one more time . . .’

Diesel’s veneer cracked, his grin delighted. ‘You’re on, Montgomery. Just name the time and place. I’ll be there.’

‘Stop it,’ Marcus snapped when Stone opened his mouth to reply. ‘Good God, are you both five-year-olds?’

‘Ten-year-olds,’ Diesel allowed, not insulted.

‘Asshole,’ Stone grunted as he sat down with his coffee. ‘I left Jill with Bridget in Accounting while we’re in morning meeting. They’re running budgets. Even Jill can’t hurt anything when they’re running budgets. Where’s Cal with the damn doughnuts? It’s Tuesday, for God’s sake.’

‘I’m here.’ Cal trudged in and set the box of doughnuts on the table with an eye roll. ‘Here. Devour. Use napkins.’

Calvin Booker had been at the Ledger since the mid-sixties, working his way up from the mailroom to become Marcus’s grandfather’s right-hand man and the paper’s editor-in-chief. Cal should have retired years ago, but kept pushing the date out further and further. He said he would just be bored at home, but Marcus knew the old man had stayed on to help him. He wasn’t sure where he’d be without Cal.

‘Save a jelly for me.’ Lisette Cauldwell entered the room, followed closely by her brother, Phillip. The managing editor, Lisette was Marcus’s age. Phillip, who managed all the advertising, was in his late twenties, although he could pass for far younger. Marcus had known Lisette since high school, and her father had been a Ledger editor until the day he died. Lisette had earned Marcus’s trust long ago, and both she and Cal had vouched for Phillip, which had been good enough for the rest of them.

Both Lisette and Phillip had started out as reporters and would still pinch-hit from time to time when the newsroom got busy. Or when the story was so big that Marcus needed all hands on deck.

‘Close the door,’ Marcus said, and waited until everyone had coffee and the box of doughnuts had been emptied.

‘Where’s Gayle?’ Stone asked.

‘At the doc— Oof.’ Phillip cut himself off with a wince, glancing at his sister, who glared at him. ‘Don’t kick me,’ he whined. ‘That hurt.’

Stone huffed in annoyance. ‘Those two knew about Gayle?’ he asked Marcus.

‘I suppose so. So did Diesel.’ Marcus met Cal’s eyes. ‘Did you know too?’

Cal sighed. ‘Not till last week. We’ve used the same doctor for years, and I ran into her at his office. She made me promise not to tell you two or your mom.’

Marcus folded his arms over his chest, grinding his teeth. ‘What were you doing at the doctor’s office, Cal?’

Cal met his gaze unblinkingly. ‘My annual checkup.’

Marcus shook his head, pushing his anger down deep where it could explode without damaging his team. ‘You do know that I have won every damn hand of poker we’ve ever played, don’t you? Your “tell” is that look. The one on your face right there. The one you think makes you look like you’re not lying.’

Cal rolled his eyes. ‘And all this time I thought you were just cheating. Shit, Marcus.’

Stone fumed. ‘Did you have a heart attack too, Cal?’

‘No. Just a stent. I have an arrhythmia. I’m fine.’

For the second time in fifteen minutes, Marcus scrubbed his palms down his face. ‘This is fucking insane,’ he said tightly. ‘What is wrong with this picture? Does anyone else have secrets they’re keeping from us?’