The pounding persisted.

“Okay, I’m awake! I’m awake!” Laurie looked through the peephole.

There was a man standing there, a head taller than her. Her eyes slid over his wavy dark hair, down to his firm angular jaw line and high cheekbones. He had a heavy build, with muscles curving out from under his black t-shirt. His skin was like smooth caramel, warmed in the Hawaiian sun. He was wearing a heavy black vest, with the U.S. Marshals Service logo emblazoned in embroidery over his left shoulder. His badge hung from his neck on a chain. She could only see him from the waste up, but Laurie sucked in her breath.

“Ms. Shelton?” Concern flickered in his brown eyes before he knocked again. Laurie shook herself out of her daze, and flung open the door.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to come so late. I was asleep.” Laurie realized how stupid that sounded and blushed. Of course she was asleep at this time of night.

The Marshal looked her over for a minute, thoughtfully. His eyes took in her robe, her disheveled hair, all the way down to her bare feet.

Laurie crossed her arms over her chest. Her cheeks flamed under his scrutiny, and his eyes snapped back to her face.

“I’m sorry to arrive so late, ma’am. I’m Dante Stark from the U.S. Marshals Service.” Dante extended his hand to her.

Laurie shook it, giving him a weak smile.

She could tell he wasn’t from the islands. He sounded like the tourists from the eastern part of the continent, like New York or Philadelphia.

“You can call me Laurie. Please come in. I’ll try to gather all my things.” She opened the door wider and stepped back into her room.

Dante moved into the room, filling the tiny, cramped space with his lean, long figure. He surveyed the place in a glance. There was a desk, chair, bookcase, and a bed. That was it. His eyes landed on the closed bathroom door.

“Do you mind if I make sure no one else is here?” He nodded at the bathroom door.

“Well, no one else should be here.”

“It’s protocol. I need to make sure no one else is here.”

Laurie shrugged in answer. She was already too tired for this adventure. She moved to the foot of the bed to pick up the clothes she planned on wearing.

Dante drew his gun, reaching for the doorknob. With a swift motion, he entered the bathroom. He moved the shower curtain and checked out the window.

Laurie sat down on her bed, watching him.

Dante moved over to the closet opposite the bathroom. He moved aside clothes, inspecting the panels in the ceiling. He turned around from her closet and faced her.

“Excuse me, ma’am, can you get up from the bed? I have to check under it.”

“Laurie,” she reminded him, as she rose and stepped away.

Dante didn’t answer. He got down on his knees, looking under the bed. He removed a small flashlight from his vest, and flashed it into the shadowy corners.

Laurie felt small beside him and took a step back while he holstered his gun. He was a solid wall of male strength. He stood a foot away, but she felt the heat radiating off him. He flashed her a smile and her pulse leapt.

“All clear. I’ll wait while you change, but we need to move.”

Laurie nodded, and walked into the bathroom to change into her clothes. When she opened the door, Dante was bending over her desk looking at the class schedule she had posted on her corkboard. His eyes lifted to hers.

“You’re a student?”

“Law school. This is my last year.”

Dante took a seat on the only chair in the room. Laurie lifted her duffle bag onto the foot of her bed, and began picking her way through the nearest stack of books. She decided to take all of her Austen books—those she could read every day. She tossed aside most of her psychology books. Then she tucked her tattered copy of Utilitarianism by John Stewart Mill into her bag. She sorted through the most helpful books from her contract law class. She glanced at Dante. He was watching her, but his gaze darted away.

“Do you always pick up your witnesses at 1:00 a.m.?”

“No. You’re a special case. Are you planning to take all of those?”

“As many as I can fit. It’s just hard trying to decide between what I know I should take and what I want. Why am I special?”

Dante met her gaze as she sent him a sidelong glance. Something in the air crackled between them. Laurie looked away.

“Well, the case is special. The man you had a run-in with is Kaimi Quamboa, after all.”

“Exactly what did he do to warrant the DA’s personal and immediate attention?”

“He’s an organized crime boss on the islands. The DA’s been after him for years—ever since he took office. You saw him with a woman and child? You saw him with both of them?”

Now he had Laurie’s attention. Perhaps she could finally get some answers. She turned toward Dante as she tossed another book in her bag.

“Yes. Who were they?”

“The woman is Katherine James, and her son is Easton. Her husband is a federal prosecutor, Evan James. Evan put Kaimi’s brother on death row in California. He had him extradited and tried. Kaimi took it personally. He’s ransoming Katherine and Easton for his brother’s release.”

Laurie dropped the book in her hands as she turned to stare at Dante.

Dante nodded.

Laurie shook her head, picking up the fallen book from the floor.

“God, to attack a federal prosecutor’s family. The gall. The FBI would never negotiate with a kidnapper, would they?”

Dante shook his head. Laurie saw his jaw muscles tightened, his features solemn.

“The federal government won’t negotiate. More often than not, complying with a kidnapper’s demands leads to the victim being killed anyway.”

“If the government knows he’s behind the kidnapping, why do they need me?”

“Evidence. They have no other evidence. The demands come through voice-disguised calls from burner cell phones. Kaimi has eluded capture for decades for a reason. He’s good—too good. You’re the only person who’s seen him with his victims. You’re the only person who can connect him directly him to the kidnappings. If he does kill Katherine and Easton, you’re the only person who can tie him to their murder.”

A chill went down Laurie’s spine. The image of Kaimi’s gun swinging over to hover in front of Katherine James swam in front of her eyes. The look the little boy, Easton, gave her flashed in her mind. Laurie shook her head to clear the visions.

“He said he would kill her if I told anyone…they may already be dead.” Her voice became thick with emotion.

Her hands were shaking now as she placed two books into the duffle bag. Dante reached over and covered one of her hands with his. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, the warmth of his touch seeping into her skin.

“You don’t need to worry about that now. We need to worry about getting you out of here. Are you ready?”

“Almost.” Laurie gave him a grateful smile.

He nodded, and took back his hand.

Its absence left her skin tingling. For one brief moment, Laurie lost herself in his mocha colored eyes. She glanced away, and the world came rushing back. Laurie stared at her bed, trying to remember exactly what she was supposed to be doing right now. It took her a few moments to remember she needed to pack.

Laurie agonized over her books until Dante cleared his throat. She chose the most interesting books from her two classes this semester and tossed them in on top. Then she pulled open her desk drawer and took out several photos. Her mother, father, and a five-year-old version of herself smiled back at her. She tucked them into one of the books. She turned in a circle surveying her room.

“I think that’s it.”

Dante rose, but said nothing. He stood frozen. There was a soft scraping noise, and a muffled thump. Laurie dismissed the barely audible noise as she sorted through her books again. Dante grabbed her arm.