"Back then, my mother was still alive. My stepfather. My half-sister. My friends. When I joined GPS, I realized that one of the weaknesses in the system was that predators might target a protective agent as much as a client. They could grab a protector's family and friends and try to use them as leverage to get the protector to betray the client. I decided that I couldn't put my family and friends at risk. I needed to look out for their safety just as I did a client's, and the easiest way to do that was to assume a false name and identity that would keep predators from discovering my background."

"Well, you certainly succeeded. I believed 'Cavanaugh' was your true name. I've never heard you supply a first one, so I was surprised that in GPS's personnel files, you list a first name of 'James.'"

"Which I never use when I'm working."

"Establishing a mystique as a protective agent with only one name. Do you agree?"

"That I'm Aaron Stoddard? Yes." He looked over at Jamie, to whom he'd long ago confided the truth about his identity. "Now that I'm no longer a protector, it doesn't matter if anybody knows who I really am. My mother's dead now. My stepfather has a heart condition. He'll probably be gone soon, also. My half-sister is the only relative I need to worry about. And you, of course," he told Jamie. "I'll never stop protecting you."

"What I meant was," William said, "do you agree to abide by Duncan's wishes and accept ownership of Global Protective Services?"

"William, did anybody ever tell you you've got a pushy manner?"

"My second and third wives. But I tried not to take it personally."

"Really, I'm sorry you came all this way."

"You won't accept?"

"I made a promise, and I'm keeping it. From now on, Jamie's all I care about."

"Duncan didn't indicate a second choice. GPS isn't a publicly traded company. There's no board of directors. No one except Duncan's heir can make decisions. If your refusal is absolute, ultimately the company will need to be dissolved."

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about that," Cavanaugh said.

"Perhaps you should take a couple of days to consider the implications."

"No," Cavanaugh insisted.

"Can we speak privately?" Jamie interrupted.

Cavanaugh looked at her.

"Outside," she told him.

Chapter 11.

Behind boulders on the ridge, the spotter studied the lodge through binoculars that were shielded to keep the sun from reflecting off their lenses.

"They could be inside for hours," the sniper said.

"The backup team's in position now. The moment you're sure you've got the target in your sights, I'll tell them to cut the telephone line. The timing has to be right. If we do it sooner than we need to, he might try to use the phone, wonder why it doesn't work, and realize he's being set up."

"In that case, tell them to get ready." The sniper peered through his scope. "The target's on the back porch."

Chapter 12.

Jamie closed the screen door after she and Cavanaugh stepped outside. "I want you to own Global Protective Services."

"But I promised you I was out of the business."

"I'm freeing you from that promise."

Chapter 13.

"Beta, get ready to cut the phone line," the spotter said into the radio.

"On your signal," a voice replied.

"Stand by." The spotter turned toward his partner. "Can you get the shot?

The man lay on his stomach, his left hand gripping the rifle's stock, his left forearm resting on his knapsack. His right hand clutched the rifle's grip, his finger at the trigger. The bolt-action Remington 700 was one of the most accurate sniper rifles. A favorite of the U.S. military as well as law-enforcement SWAT teams, it accurately delivered a .308 bullet up to 900 yards. The sights had one-minute-of-angle accuracy. The trigger was adjusted to a gentle two-pound pull. The powerful scope had a holographic sight with a red dot that indicated exactly where the bullet would strike the target. The state-of-the-art sound suppressor prevented the sniper from disclosing his position and drawing return fire.

But precise equipment was only one element of accurate long-distance shooting. Training, experience, steadiness, the ability to craft handmade ammunition and adjust sights based on conclusions about distance, temperature, altitude, and wind, the Zen control of breathing, temperature, blood pressure, and heart rate, the focus of a lifetime into one steady confident pull on the trigger--the accumulation of all these and more were what made a great shooter.

"I said, Can you make the shot?" Receiving no answer, the spotter peered through his binoculars and inhaled with annoyance when he saw the problem. "Damn it, the woman's in the way."

Chapter 14.

"Sometimes, you don't listen to yourself," Jamie said.

"That's because I don't enjoy one-sided conversations."

"Angelo was talking about his llamas and his ostriches, and he made you laugh so hard, you said you missed him."

"Just a figure of speech. Hey, we aren't going to start shopping for furniture or anything."

"You do miss him. You miss all the agents you used to work with. You miss Global Protective Services and--"

"How can you be sure? I've never said anything about that."

"Sometimes, I see a far-away look in your eyes, as if your mind's somewhere else, doing things in places a lot more exciting than here."

"No."

"You do have that look." Jamie's hands were on her hips, her back to the sun-bright pasture and the aspen-covered eastern slope of the canyon. "It reminds me of tigers and lions in cages in zoos. The look in their eyes. The controlled frustration. It's like they know there has to be a better way, but they also know there's nothing they can do about it. Well, this is your chance to do something about it."

"There's no place else I'd rather be, and no other person I'd rather be with."

"You gave up a huge portion of your life for me," Jamie said.

"But look at what I got in return." Cavanaugh gestured toward the stream flowing through the pasture, sunlight glinting off it, the horses leaning down to drink.

"You still wear a gun and a knife."

"The world's a dangerous neighborhood."

"You still drive an armored Taurus."

"A sturdy, dependable car. The far-away look you see in my eyes isn't longing. It's nervous relief that I don't live that way anymore. It's amazement that I ever did."

"I don't understand."