She met his eyes and he could already see the pleasure he’d hoped to put there. “More.” She rocked up into him, pulling him deeper. “God, please. David. More.”

His control snapped on the first more and he drove deep, making her gasp. But there was no pain on her face, only a growing sensual need as he moved, harder, deeper. Faster. She met each thrust as he watched her climax build. He could feel the orgasm tingling at the base of his spine and fought it back. Not yet. Dammit, not yet.

Then her short nails dug into his back and once again she went taut. He plunged harder, recklessly driving them higher until she screamed and the blistering wave hit and everything went black, her name on his lips as he fell.

Tuesday, September 21, 11:30 p.m.

All systems were go. He sat in his van a block away, watching the house Barney Tomlinson had purchased for his whore. Its destruction would mean more insurance money for Mrs. Tomlinson and it was one last way to stick it to Barney, in memoriam.

Dorian was currently sprawled facedown on Barney’s desk inside the house. Minus his face, of course. That would give the cops a fun puzzle to solve. How did Dorian and Barney connect? They didn’t of course, except through me.

The beauty was that the money he took from both men had been held in offshore accounts that nobody would know to look for. No connection.

There were Albert and Mary. Right on time. They’d argued earlier about this job. Their voices had come through loud and clear via the mike he’d hidden in their phone.

Albert had been furious with Mary over the glass balls. Mary had been furious for his having lied to her about Tomlinson being an environmental villain. Neither one seemed terribly upset over Eric’s demise. Mary hadn’t wanted to do this job. Albert had threatened to break her neck and throw her in the Mississippi River. It had been most entertaining. But after all that, here they were. And from the looks of them, still arguing.

He tuned the receiver clipped to his belt to their frequency and listened. Albert had the disposable in his shirt pocket, so his voice was loud. Mary held her own, though.

“Goddammit, woman, shut up,” Albert growled. He was speaking with his French accent. Maybe he hadn’t faked it after all. Maybe he’d been trying to get back at Eric.

Given Eric’s present state of death, I’d say he did that pretty well.

“This is stupid,” Mary hissed. “We’re just digging ourselves in deeper.”

“And if we refuse?”

“So he publishes the video. We’ll say we were Photoshopped in. Besides, he’s the one who has the girl on tape. It proves he was there, not us.”

Mary had a point, but Albert wasn’t buying it. “Just do what I say or the fishes will love you. Big nasty ones in that dirty river of yours.”

“I hate you.”

“Good thing you don’t need to like me. You just need to do as you’re told.”

You go, Albert. Somebody should have smacked that girl down a long time ago.

He videotaped them as they entered the house and were quickly out again. In minutes the fire was raging. The kids were getting pretty good at this. Albert pulled the cell from his pocket and snapped a photo, then the two of them ran for Eric’s car.

They drove away and he started his van, taking off in the other direction. He needed to get to the deaf school. He had a date with Kenny that the boy didn’t yet know about. He glanced behind him at the plastic dry-cleaner bag containing his costume. He’d have to do a quick change when he got there. His shirt was the wrong style, as was his hat, but he was betting Kenny wasn’t familar with the exact uniform worn by the Minneapolis PD.

Tuesday, September 21, 11:30 p.m.

Olivia woke slowly, sleepily contented. And totally naked. Her eyes opened abruptly, tensing when she realized where she was and whose hand possessively covered her breast. She was spooned against David, her back to his hard chest. And he wasn’t asleep, if what she felt pulsing against her bottom was any indication.

“Don’t leave,” he murmured in her ear, sending shivers over her body. “Please.”

“I won’t. But I need to get my phone, in case I get a call.”

“It’s on the nightstand. I found it in your coat pocket.”

She lifted her head, her eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness. He’d arranged her clothes on a nearby chair, her purse on top. “How long was I out?”

“Two hours. Thank you for giving me a chance to redeem myself. I did, didn’t I?”

“I’d say you more than did,” she murmured.

He hesitated. “Regrets?”

“No.” She still had questions, but no regrets.

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head. “I needed this.”

“So did I.”

“I thought you would want to talk first.”

Her sigh was silent. “So did I.”

“What changed?”

“Some of it was ‘I want you more than I want to breathe.’ Hell of a line, David.”

He shifted against her and she caught her breath. He was ready, again. So am I.

“That was no line, Olivia. I still want you more than I want to breathe. But now I can at least think. If that was some of what changed your mind, what was the rest?”

Joel Fischer’s wall, she thought. “We got a lead on one of the condo arsonists. It looks like one of them OD’d and drove his car off the road Monday morning. He’s dead.”

“Guilty conscience?”

“I think so. I stood in this kid’s room, looking at all the plaques on his wall, all for service to his community. He wanted to make a difference. I think he got in over his head and couldn’t stand the guilt. I kept thinking that this kid did so much good, then one thing bad and it all unraveled for him. Then I thought about Lincoln, his guilt.” She paused. “Which you understood.”

Tensing, he moved his hand from her breast to her stomach. Covering it with hers, she held on. “I wondered what it was you’d understood,” she said. “You said ‘And’ last night when we argued about what happened after Mia’s wedding.”

He swallowed. “And?”

“You thought you’d done something else. Something worse. I wondered if I should have been more worried about that than I was. Then, I wondered what it mattered. You’ve more than proven the kind of man you are. I still wanted the answer to my question, but when I saw you… it seemed a lot less important. Because I wanted you more than I wanted to breathe, too.”

He drew a breath, let it out. “So what is your question, Olivia?”

She rolled to her back, found his eyes guarded. “Who are you, David Hunter?” She smiled up at him, trying to soften the words. “Besides a cat-saving firefighter who volunteers more than ten people combined?”

He looked away. “I don’t know. I’ve been that man so long, I don’t know anymore.”

She sensed honesty and frustration in his answer. “Then who were you before?”

He flinched. “Not so nice. I don’t think you would have liked that me.”

“How old was ‘that you’?”

“Eighteen.”

Eighteen years then, she thought. He’d lived half his life with whatever it was that he’d done. “And what did the eighteen-year-old you do?”

He rolled away suddenly, but she sprang to her knees, grabbing his arm as his feet hit the floor. “Don’t,” she said urgently. “Don’t you dare walk away from me. Whatever it was you did, or think you did, it kept you from coming after me for two and a half years. Whatever it was, it affected my life, too. That time is gone, David. Wasted. I don’t want to lose any more. I’m here, right now, in your bed. I’m not afraid of you. So tell me.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her, shoulders hunched. “I can’t.”

Drawing on instinct, she took a chance. “What was her name?” There was a long, long silence and she thought she’d try once more. “Was it about Dana?”

He turned his head slightly, as if startled. “No. I didn’t meet her until I was thirty.”