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  With the EMTs still working on Eve, the ambulance whisked her away, its sirens blaring. As she watched the ambulance careen around the corner, Lara said a prayer for Eve...and all the others.

  * * *

  After two hours of explanations and arguments with the FDNY about getting back inside the club to look for evidence, the team convened at headquarters.

  Lara slumped in a chair at the conference table. “Has anyone contacted Nick yet? He needs to know about this most recent...event, especially if he hopes to get anything out of Olivia tomorrow.”

  Victoria tapped her phone. “I texted him about an hour ago, but I’m assuming he crashed for the night—no response. I’ll touch base with him later before he goes out to the correctional facility.”

  Lara’s cell phone buzzed, and she pounced on it. “It’s the hospital.”

  She answered. “Special Agent Grant.”

  “Ma’am, this is Officer Wade. You wanted me to call you with status on a patient from the club fire?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. The doc just notified me that Eve Klimcek didn’t make it.”

  “Thank you Officer Wade.” Lara ended the call and dropped her phone. “Eve’s dead.”

  Xander straddled a chair at the table. “What a total screwup.”

  Another woman dead because she shared Lara’s undercover name. And this time she witnessed the death.

  Ty rubbed his eyes for the hundredth time since they sat down at the table. “I should’ve rendered some assistance when I got there.”

  “Really?” Mei patted his shoulder. “Bring Eve around so that you could both die in the fire? There was no time, Ty. You did your best. You both did—and get some drops for your eyes.”

  “I’m guessing the sniper changed his MO because he couldn’t get a high-powered rifle into the club. Unless it was someone else.” Xander drummed his fingers on the table in a nervous staccato. “Victoria and I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary outside—a bunch of hipsters coming and going.”

  Cass wiped her glasses on the silky top she’d put on for the outing. “I’m going to get the footage from any cameras on that street.”

  “That fire created chaos and confusion—exactly what they wanted. Lara brushed her hair back from her face, the sooty smell of it making her nauseous. “How are we ever going to be able to question anyone in that club after they all surged out of there and then scattered?”

  “I don’t have much hope anyone would’ve noticed anything,” Xander replied. “We questioned the owner and the bouncer about who put Eve Johanssen’s name on the list at the door. They gave us nothing.”

  “Did you get checked out by an EMT, Lara?” Victoria drew her brows over her nose. “You may be suffering from smoke inhalation.”

  “I’m fine.” She stood and rolled her shoulders. “Is the fire department going to let us into the building today? Not that I hope to find the glass Eve drank from to ingest the poison with a perfect set of prints on it, but we might find something.”

  “I’ll work on that. Everyone go home and get some sleep. I need everyone fresh when you all come back in.” Victoria tapped her watch. “Or at least sleep away the rest of this morning.”

  As the other team members grumbled and gathered their things, Lara placed her hand on Victoria’s arm. “I really thought Anna was going to be in that club.”

  Victoria gave her a tremulous smile. “I can still hold on to the fact that she wasn’t dead.”

  “Thank God for that.” Lara’s nose tingled, and it had nothing to do with smoke inhalation. “The same can’t be said of Lara, Grant and Eve. Is a Johanssen next?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Nick woke up in a hotel room in Decatur, Illinois dying of thirst. Why did hotel rooms make him so damned thirsty?

  He eyed the bottle of water on the TV stand across the room with its tag announcing its four dollar price. Why did thirty-two ounces of water cost four bucks? He wasn’t even in Manhattan. But he strongly suspected a link between his thirst and the four dollar price tag for the water.

  After his three-hour flight from JFK to O’Hare yesterday afternoon, he had to take a commuter flight down to Decatur. By the time he got here, the sun had set and visiting hours at the Decatur Correctional Center were over and done with.

  He kicked off the twisted covers and grabbed his fully-charged phone from the nightstand. Several messages popped up.

  That can’t be good.

  As he read through each of Victoria’s texts, he got tenser and tenser until he was grinding his teeth at the end. Another murder. This time poison. And another connection to Lara.

  God, he should’ve been there with them at that club. What if Lara hadn’t gotten out of there alive?

  He tossed the phone onto the bed. If he could get about fifteen minutes alone with Moretti, he’d get the truth out of him about his involvement in Anna’s kidnapping and these other murders—one way or the other.

  That’s not the only truth he’d wring out of the man.

  He showered, shaved and dressed in a suit, tucking his badge in his pocket and buttoning his jacket over his shoulder holster, which he’d gingerly placed over his shoulder. The prison guards would make him leave his weapon outside the visiting area anyway, which was a shame.

  He could get much more out of Olivia with a gun in his hand.

  He squeezed his eyes closed for a second. This case was getting to him. He’d always had more success—and more control—doing things by the book. He’d spent a career following the rules, unlike his father, and had been damned successful at it. No need to allow Moretti and his underlings to destroy that ethic for him now.

  Even though the Bureau would’ve picked up the tab for the expensive water, Nick practiced a little self-restraint until he got downstairs for breakfast where he drank four glasses of water and a glass of orange juice along with his eggs and bacon.

  He texted the team on a group text, but not one of them answered.

  He made the short, seven-mile drive to DCC in his rental car and flashed his badge at the security gate where the guard checked off his name on a list of visitors. He wheeled into the parking lot, not surprised by the number of cars already there.

  Most visitors tried to get there in the morning due to the security checks. Nick had already announced his intention to visit Olivia, so his check-in should be a breeze.

  Entering the visitor reception area, Nick reached for his badge and ID. He waited in line behind the other visitors, but once he gave his name to the guard, he was given preferential treatment and ushered into another area.

  The guard indicated a locker. “You can put your weapon in here, and I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to pat you down before you enter the visiting area.”

  “No problem.” Nick checked the safety on his gun and placed it in the locker. Then he held his arms out to his sides. “Just watch the right arm.”

  As the guard did the pat down, he said, “You’re going to visit Olivia Conner?”

  “Yeah. What kind of prisoner is she?”

  “Oh, she’s a model prisoner. She’s bucking to get out of here sooner rather than later, but you can see it in her eyes.” The guard pointed at his own eyes with two fingers from the same hand.

  “See what?”

  “Cunning calculation. I wouldn’t turn my back on that woman in a dark alley.”

  “Luckily, you don’t have to.” Nick tipped his head toward the door to the hallway. “That way?”

  “I’ll walk you down. We got you a private room.”

  “Does she know I’m coming?”

  “She knows something’s up. That one’s as sharp as a tack.” He opened the door to the hallway and ushered Nick through first. “Her attorney’s out here every other week, it seems. They’re definitely planning something.”

  “As long as it’s not a breakout.”

  “From this place? Nah.”

  The guard’s soft-soled shoes squeaked on the tile flo
or behind him, and then he passed Nick to buzz him through the next door, which led to a small room with a two-way mirror on the wall, a table with two chairs and a plant in the corner. They’d never put one of those in a men’s facility.

  Nick squared his shoulders, folded his hands on the table and waited. Two minutes later, the door on the other side of the room buzzed, and a guard accompanied a tall brunette into the room.

  Her green eyes widened, and then her lips tilted into a smile—like a cat who’d lapped up the last of the cream.

  “Hello there, hot stuff.” She stood by the chair as the guard pulled it out for her, rolling his eyes at Nick.

  The guard said, “I’ll be right outside, sir.”

  “Don’t let the door hit you on the backside, Dennis.” Olivia perched on the edge of her chair, her cuffed hands on the table between them. “You must be very special if Dennis is waiting outside. Usually, the guards stand over in the corner eavesdropping.”

  “I’m Special Agent Delano with the FBI, ma’am. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Moretti and...a few other issues.”

  “Shh.” She put a finger to her lips. “I’ll never tell.”

  “You’ll never tell about...?”

  “Moretti. I value my life—” she lifted her hands and jangled her handcuffs “—such as it is.”

  “We already know a lot about his syndicate. We’d like you to fill in a few more details, just a few of the blank spaces.” He held his breath, didn’t blink, didn’t move.

  “No way.” She jerked her head, tossing her hair back from her face, the lustrous dark locks showing hints of gray at her temples. “If you have information about the organization, then that’s what you have. I’m not giving you anything else.”

  Spreading his hands, palms up, he said, “It’ll be just between you and me.”

  “As much as I like you, hot stuff, we both know you’re not going to keep your mouth shut.”

  “Moretti doesn’t have to know.”

  “Right.” Her delicate nostrils flared. “Moretti knows everything. You do know about Gunstler?”

  “Shivved by the Albanian Boys on his second day in the joint.”

  “You don’t think Moretti knows the Albanian Boys? Their leadership?”

  Nick smiled and folded his arms across his chest. They’d suspected Moretti might’ve had a hand in Gunstler’s death, just to make sure his second in command kept quiet—forever.

  She raised her hands to her face and dabbed a fingertip beneath her eye. “Is my makeup running? And my hair? Don’t get me started.”

  Impervious to her manipulation and sarcasm, he asked, “Do you think Moretti commissioned the Albanian Boys to murder Gunstler in prison, Olivia?”

  She drew a line across the seam of her lips. “I’m not jeopardizing my future.”

  “Your future?” He spread his arms, encompassing the small visiting room. “C’mon now.”

  “There was a problem with my arrest.” She studied her stubby nails. “An illegal search and seizure that might negate my entire arrest.”

  “Really?” Nick leaned back in his chair, tilting it on its back legs. She had the same story as every other con in the joint.

  “My attorney’s working on it—and he’s one kick-ass attorney. Jerry Webb—ever hear of him?”

  Nick knew the slimy bastard—and his father knew him very well. “I may have heard the name.”

  Olivia pointed both index fingers at him. “You’re going to hear a lot more of him once he gets me off on this technicality. I’m going to get out of this dump, get my hair colored properly at a proper salon, get a manicure. A new start.”

  “I kind of like the gray.” He touched his right temple. “And what will you do with this new identity? Become a nun? Go on a mission to Syria? Work with the homeless?”

  She tilted her head back and laughed at the ceiling. “You’re a funny guy, hot stuff.”

  “Start up a new trafficking business to rival Moretti’s?”

  She stopped laughing. “I never said that. I don’t want to challenge Moretti.”

  Her tone had softened, and her bottle-green eyes misted over when she said Moretti’s name. God, Lara had been right on. The woman desired Moretti, even though she feared he might have her killed. What kind of power did the man wield over his followers?

  What kind of power did he still wield over Lara?

  He smacked a hand on the table to bring Olivia out of her daydream about Moretti. “You knew Eve Johannsen when she worked for the Moretti syndicate, didn’t you?”

  The green eyes cleared up and flashed fire. “Yes, I knew Eve.”

  “Did you get along with her before you found out she was undercover?”

  “Hell, no. I never liked Eve Johannsen. I even tried to warn Andrew about her.”

  Nick’s eye twitched. “Why would you try to warn Moore about Lara?”

  “I wouldn’t have dared to try to warn Moretti about anything. I was warning Andrew Moore, our arms broker. He worked with Eve, took her under his wing.”

  Nick dropped his hands to his lap where they curled into fists. “So, Andrew Moore and Eve got close? He trusted her?”

  “I’ve already said too much.” Olivia pressed her lips together, and a white line formed around her mouth.

  “If you hated Eve, you must’ve really hated Lara Grant when you found out she was playing you all.”

  She turned her head to the side, and her profile looked carved from a block of ice.

  He whispered. “And if you hate Lara Grant, maybe you’re trying to make her life hell right now.”

  Her eyes shifted to the side. “Is her life hell?”

  “You tell me.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know anything.”

  “Do you know anything about a kidnapping?”

  She raised her eyebrows but kept silent.

  He cocked his head. “A college student. She was snatched from Columbia two days ago.”

  “I don’t know anything about any kidnapping, and I’m not trying to make Eve’s life hell, although she deserves every drop of misery coming her way.” She jabbed a finger at Nick. “She brought down a man among men, a man worth ten of you or any other federal agent. A man destined for greatness.”

  “A man in federal prison.”

  “Screw you...and Eve Johannsen, too, or whatever the hell she’s calling herself these days. That bitch never deserved our trust. Never deserved Moretti.” Olivia’s carefully tended façade began to crack.

  And he planned to take advantage of it.

  “Deserved to work for him? Is that how all you Kool-Aid drinkers felt?” Nick lifted one shoulder. “He doesn’t give a damn about you, Olivia. He doesn’t give a damn about any of you. Moretti is all about Moretti. How can you still have loyalty to a man who’d think nothing of having you killed?”

  “He wouldn’t...” Her gaze dropped to her hands, and she started picking at her nails.

  He hunched forward. “Sucks for you not having access to beauty treatments and the products you’re used to on the outside.”

  She shot him a glance from slitted eyes. “It does.”

  “I mean—” he raised one eyebrow, cocking his head “—for a woman like you who’s accustomed to so much more.”

  “And the hair—” she tossed back her dark tresses “—never mind the color, I can’t even get a decent cut.”

  “I understand. My team—” he tapped the table with one finger “—we can get things done. We’ve even done some favors for Moretti.”

  Her eyes popped wide open. “You have?”

  “Sure.” He nodded as if those Moretti perks didn’t cut him to the core. “Like I said, we have certain liberties to offer....”

  “Like what?” She licked her lips.

  “We can come up with something you’d like.”

  “And what do I have to deliver to get this good stuff?” She laced her long fingers together as if planning a charity ball instead of prison perks.

>   Nobody could accuse Olivia Conner of being slow on the uptake.

  Nick leaned back in his chair, the taste of success on his lips. “We need information about what’s going on right now. Who’s ordering these hits? Who’s behind the kidnapping of Anna Russo?”

  “I need more access to my attorney.”

  “That can be arranged.”

  “Then I just might be able to help you, but—” she looked right and left “—I can’t do it here, and I won’t do it until I have a signed deal.”

  “We can move you to a federal facility in Chicago. That’s where your hotshot lawyer is, anyway.”

  “I thought you didn’t know Jerry Webb.”

  “Told you I’d heard the name.” He pushed back from the table and tugged on the lapels of his suit. He didn’t want to give her time to change her mind. “I’ll talk to my boss about a possible deal.”

  “T-today?”

  “The sooner, the better. But I need something now to take to my boss to show you’re cooperating.” Their eyes locked for a split second, and he could see the comprehension...and the fear in hers. By possibly turning on Moretti or his cohorts, Olivia had put a bigger target on her back than existed already.

  “Poor Eve. Getting poisoned like that. Such a shame.”

  “I’ll be in touch, Olivia.”

  After he collected his gun and checked out of the visitor center, he stood outside, gulping in the fresh air.

  She was still a player. So, she knew about Eve’s poisoning. What else could Olivia Conner deliver? Would she turn on her former boss and dreamboat? Gunstler’s murder had spooked her—maybe got her thinking about long-term plans. Whatever the reason, he’d take it.

  While he sat in his rental, Nick got on the phone with Victoria to discuss the deal with Olivia Conner. Once he and Victoria hammered it out, he texted the team all the details of his meeting with Olivia and the deal—or almost all the details.

  He didn’t want Lara to know he’d been digging for info about her relationship with Andrew Moore. But, hell, if Lara wouldn’t be straight with him, he’d use other means to discover what had gone on during that undercover assignment.