Bennett had been in town for only a day when he decided to proceed. The furnished villa Milton had purchased for him more than two years prior had been adapted to meet his peculiar needs. The location was perfectset back from the road, hidden behind a gate and trees, and solidly constructed. In the last few weeks, Milton had arranged for the home to be stocked with nonperishables, booze, and every amenity Bennett could desire. Hed arranged for it to be cleaned and polished from top to bottom.

Milton had always been a stickler for detail. And Bennett knew that when this ordeal was over, his lawyer and longtime friend would manage the resultant scandal as well as anyone could. Milton would also be a comfort to Julia. What more could he ask for?

Bennetts attention went to the surface of the large dining room table, where hed laid out all the tools of his new line of work. Somewhere in the jumble of hats and wigs, glue-on mustaches, guns, Mace, a portable GPS, maps, his car rental agreement, stacks of cash, and other miscellany, Bennett knew he would find that cheap, no-frills, pay-as-you-go cell phone Milton had purchased for him. If his lawyer had to reach Bennett, this was the way hed do it.

To Bennetts shock, he turned on the phone to find he had three messages, one from Milton and two from an unfamiliar San Francisco number. He listened to Milton first: an Indiana woman named LaShelle Davis had cashed a million-dollar check from Bennetts account at a Los Angeles bank. Milton had approved the transaction, because everything seemed to be in order, but he needed to speak to Bennett as soon as possible.

Bennett smiled and thought, /Good for you, LaShelle/.

Then he listened to the other messages. The first one said, This is Gwen Anders. I have valuable information regarding Rick Rousseau. Then she gave him the unfamiliar number. The second message, also from Gwen Anders, advised him to disregard the first one. Bennett laughed. What kind of ridiculousness was that?

Bennett called the number. After sixteen rings, a man answered, and said it was a pay phone.

He tossed the cheap plastic cell phone back to the table, thinking that Gwen Anders had certainly picked the wrong time to play him for a fool.

There was a polite knock at her door. Because Gwen was expecting a FedEx delivery and was chatting on her cell phone, her guard was down. She opened the door, smiling.

Directly into the barrel of a handgun.

The man knocked the phone from her hand and stepped inside.

Pick it up. Then hang it up, the man whispered. Gwen did as she was told. Gotta go, Mom. Sorry. She snapped the phone shut.

Get inside.

Gwens body began trembling as her mind struggled to reconcile the aristocratic New England voice with the ridiculous appearance of her assailant. The man was of medium build, in cheap clothes, and it looked like he was wearing a fake wig and mustache, of all things.

She gasped. /Bennett Cummings?/ He kicked the door shut behind him. At your service.

But… Gwen didnt know if the realization should make her less frightened, or more so. I told you to disregard my message.

He flashed a cold smile while keeping the gun trained on her forehead. /Oh, God, what have I done?/ Gwen began to have trouble breathing.

This wont take long. Just give me your valuable information and Ill be gone.

Its nothing. It isnt even important, she said, her eyes darting to the gun and then to his face.

I beg to differ, Miss Anders. Cummings took a step closer. Its pure serendipity, and serendipity is always important.

Gwen frowned and shook her head. I dont understand…

When you called I was already on my way here. See how interesting that is?

Gwen tried to back away but bumped into a small hall table, knocking over a vase of fresh flowers. She jumped. Then she stared at all the broken glass and spilled water. If only she could grab a piece with a jagged edge… /Click./ The cold steel of the gun tapped against her left temple. She straightened.

What do you have for me, Gwen?

She swallowed hard. This was a nightmare. How could she have done this to herself? To Rick? She closed her eyes and tried to drag some oxygen into her lungs.

If you lie, I will know, and I will kill you. The pressure against her temple increased. Dont think I wont.

Rick Rousseau has a girlfriend, she sputtered, her eyes flying open. He started dating someone and its serious. He says he loves her.

Cummings tilted his head to the side, obviously puzzled. And this girlfriend is not you, I assume.

No. Gwens body began shaking violently. Black spots swam in her vision.

She thought she might throw up. Im not feeling well Give me everything you know about her, Cummings said, spinning Gwen around and wrenching an arm behind her back. He pushed her toward her antique secretary in the living room, where she had paper and pens neatly arranged. Write everything down. You have thirty seconds.

Bennett sat at the wheel of his rental, parked three buildings from the girls apartment. Surprisingly, the narrow one-way street had become a veritable hub of activity. Not only was Rousseau inside the apartment having dinner, his bodyguard sat in a black Lexus out front. In addition, there seemed to be three women crouched in the dark behind a tree just east of the girlfriends apartment building. Bennett was perturbed. He would prefer to exact his revenge with less of an audience.

He was preparing to call it a night when who should exit the building but Rick himself, walking an oafish-looking dog. The bodyguard joined him and they strolled down the sidewalk, past the figures crouching behind the tree. Maybe hed been too quick to judge the evening a total waste.

He rolled down his windows and strained his ears.

Nice night for a proposal. Teeny tucked his hands in his pants pockets while strolling next to Rick and Genghis. Wouldnt you agree?

Dont rush me, Rick snapped. Shes just started dinner.

It was an innocent observation.

Rick laughed. Well, back off. I think youre more nervous than I am.

Teeny ran a hand over his bald head. This is as close to proposing to a woman as Ill ever getIm a wreck.

They got about halfway down the block when Rick noticed Teeny tense up.

He kept strolling, but there was no longer anything casual about it. He was on alert.

Teeny whispered to Rick, Not a life-and-death thing, man, but prepare yourself.

Cummings? Rick asked.

You wish.

What the hell does that mean? Rick tried to look behind him, but Teeny grabbed his arm.

Eyes front and keep moving, Teeny said. Dog ladies at two oclock.

Rick Rousseau!

Rick took a deep breath and turned toward the voice. Three women stood on the sidewalk, jaws set firm, feet apart. The oldest and biggest oneBea Latimer was her namewas clearly in charge.

Were Josies friends. We need to talk to you, she said.

Rick nodded, noting how glad Genghis was to see them. You obviously know /me,/ he said, then gestured toward Teeny. This is my associate, Timothy Worrell.

Teeny produced a charming smile. Its nice to be formally introduced, ladies.

A pleasure, the redhead named Ginger Garrison said. Beas eyes flashed at her with reprimand.

Rick decided to defuse the situation with hospitality. Im visiting Josie right now, as you know, so why dont we all go up to the apartment? Im sure shed love to see you. Shes told me all about you.

That sounds very ni Ginger stopped herself mid-sentence.

This isnt a social visit, the youngest one said. Roxanne Bloom narrowed her dark eyes at Rick menacingly. Were concerned about Josies safety. We dont think youre good for her.

Rick admired Roxannes candid approach. Truly, he welcomed the show of devotion from all three women. It was a comfort knowing they had Josies back. The problem was, this was supposed to be a quick walk, not a meeting of the UN Security Council, and he hadnt planned to leave Josie alone for long.