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  “Copy that,” Wolfe said, shoving the phone in his battered jacket pocket. “I didn’t find any evidence of explosives, but I wasn’t expecting to. Can I have some of the casserole?”

  Mal stood, his chest feeling like he’d been kicked by a horse. This sucked. “Have it all. I’m going to bed. At least, I’m gonna try.” He felt as if there were weights on his shoulders, and he moved around the furniture like he was eighty years old.

  “You have nightmares?” Wolfe asked, not moving, his voice hoarse.

  Mal paused and faced the former soldier. “Yeah. You?”

  Wolfe studied him. “Yeah. I have nightmares.” He jerked his head toward the wine bottle on the kitchen table. “Drinkin’ doesn’t help.”

  “I know,” Mal said softly. He didn’t have the energy to share war stories. Not right now.

  Wolfe opened his mouth and then closed it, obviously deciding not to say whatever he had in mind. He cleared his throat. “You focused on the plan tomorrow?”

  “Affirmative,” Mal muttered. “If nothing else, I always get the job done.” His phone buzzed in his back pocket and he paused. There was nobody in the world who should be calling him. He took it out and read the number. He swore. “There is no reason for you to call me,” he said, answering it.

  “Sorry, buddy,” Lieutenant Jack Montego muttered, his voice as cranky as ever. “I’m getting pushback from the effin’ DA about the case against the two Bodini henchmen who survived the shoot-out.”

  “No.” Mal barely kept from snapping his phone in two. “I was told they’d pled out. No trial. No testimony.” He was done with that life. “Aren’t you supposed to be retiring?” Montego had been Mal’s handler on the Bodini case, and he’d been inching toward the end of his gig the whole time, staying in only to finish up.

  “Next month. Heading right to Florida.” Montego cleared his throat. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. The DA just wants to meet with you once, and he thinks he can get the two to plea.”

  “It’s Comstock, isn’t it?” Mal shook his head. The ambitious young DA was a total pain in the ass. But the guy got the job done. Almost every time. “I can’t head to New York right now.”

  “Comstock said he’d come to you. Just say where and when.”

  Mal cut his gaze at Wolfe, who had no trouble eavesdropping in plain sight. “I think I just found a legitimate reason to be in that diner.” Smiling for the first time that night, he returned his attention to the phone. “Fine. Tell Comstock he can have thirty minutes. Tomorrow at eleven-fifteen a.m. at a diner called Pine’s in Minuteville. If he’s late, even five minutes, I’m gone.” He clicked off.

  “Aren’t you a multitasker?” Wolfe asked dryly. “The guy you’re meeting? He look like a DA?”

  Mal slowly nodded. “Yeah. Let’s see just how spooked Pippa gets.” It was time to push her a little. The woman had a go-bag.

  Why?

  Chapter Nine

  Pippa knew the route by heart. Back roads, long strips of deserted countryside except for a couple of old thrift stores without surveillance cameras. That was the key. No cameras.

  She’d had to take two Xanax and meditate for an hour before leaving home. It was getting harder and harder to do so, and she only made the journey once a month. Her fear had grown to a degree that couldn’t be healthy. Not a fear of crowds or groups, like she’d told Malcolm. It was a fear of being spotted. Of being found.

  She drove the familiar two hours listening to country music, her mind on Malcolm West. His kiss had stayed with her all night, making her skin feel too tight and her heart beat too quickly. She’d taken her usual sleeping pill, but even that hadn’t helped.

  A part of her, the self-destructive part that knew better, wished she’d just yanked off her top and offered him everything.

  But she couldn’t do that. Everything included truth, and hers had holes.

  The colored contacts she wore made her eyes water beneath the thick glasses that were all glass. No prescription. She’d temporarily darkened her hair and had the end of her ponytail coming out of a ball cap, which also shielded her face. If she was ever caught on camera, hopefully she wouldn’t be recognizable.

  She pulled into the dirt parking area of Pine’s diner and cautiously looked around.

  The place was a couple of miles off the interstate with no hotel, gas station, or other businesses around. A bunch of long-haul trucks were parked over by the trees. As far as she could tell, only truckers knew of the place. There wasn’t even a sign on the interstate about food nearby.

  She cut her engine and stepped into the crisp spring air. The second she moved into the open, her body chilled. Her heart stuttered. It was okay. She could do this. At least it had stopped raining. She’d worn her baggiest jeans and sweatshirt, hoping to add pounds to her frame. Her nails were short and unpainted, and she wore no makeup.

  If anybody needed to describe her, they’d have a hard time.

  Taking a deep breath, she looked around again, and then walked casually in nondescript black boots to the front door.

  The outside of Pine’s was clapboard and peeling paint. The inside smelled like comfort food. Worn red booths lined two walls with a wide counter and seats along the middle. She walked past the counter and went to the last booth in the back.

  Trixie looked up from a book and smiled. “Hello, Sister.”

  Warmth rushed into Pippa as she hugged her friend. “I’ve missed you.”

  Trixie set the book to the side, her eyes sparkling beneath her hat brim. “I’ve missed you more.” She’d filled out a little in the last month and didn’t look so sickly.

  “You finally got over that cold.” Relief washed through Pippa, even though she could feel people all around them. So many people. She wished she could be back in her quiet office at home.

  Trixie nodded. “Turns out it was bronchitis. Thanks for the extra money. I needed it for medication.”

  “Any time.” Trixie was Pippa’s age but had never lived a normal life, whereas Pippa could claim one until she had turned ten. “That’s what friends are for.” She studied her friend, who’d dyed her naturally dark brown hair a pretty red. “The color suits you.”

  Trixie grinned as the waitress showed up and took their order. Neither one of them needed to look at the menu. It was memorized by now. When the waitress had taken off after scribbling their order, she leaned closer, nearly across the table. “I thought somebody was following me the other day, but then nothing happened.”

  Pippa reached for her hand. “It’s okay to be paranoid. But they can’t find us. Our documents are too good.” She hoped. Man, she hoped.

  “Yeah. I didn’t know if it was cops or the family.”

  Wasn’t that always the question? “How’s work going?”

  Trixie rolled her eyes. “Bad tips last month. The economy is making everyone cranky.” Then she brightened. “But I was bumped up to the dinner shift, so things should get better soon.”

  “Good.” Pippa’s heart lightened a little. She reached for a Visa cash card from her purse and pushed it across the table. “I had a good month and wanted to share.” It was easy to transfer money from her bank account to the check card and have it shipped to her at home. No ATMs, no cash, and definitely no cameras.

  Trixie eyed the money. “I can’t take that.”

  “Sure you can.” Pippa took a sip of her water. “I don’t need it. Please, Trixie. You’re all the family I have left.”

  Trixie took the card and slipped it into her pocket, her eyes lightening. “I’ll pay you back someday. I promise.”

  Unlikely and unnecessary. “So, you dating anybody?” Pippa asked.

  Trixie shrugged. “Not really. One of the line cooks has asked me out, but I don’t know. It’s hard to be me, you know?”

  “I know exactly,” Pippa murmured. “I kissed a guy last night. A man. A tough man.”

  Trixie’s mouth dropped open. “You did not. You? I thought after Miami you’d never date any
body ever again.”

  James in Miami had been a good guy until her family had found her. Then he was freaked out. And she’d had to run again. “This guy is different. I don’t think anybody would scare him, but I also don’t think he’d forgive being lied to.” She chewed on her lip. “And he’s an ex-cop.”

  Trixie’s eyes widened. “No. You can’t date a cop. You know what we’ve done.”

  Pippa tried to breathe. “He’s an ex-cop. Not one any longer.” But he still had followed the law. Enforced it. Would he turn her in if he knew the truth? Did she even know the truth? “I like him.”

  Trixie shook her head. “It’s probably a bad idea. Maybe. Or perhaps it’s time to get busy with a hot guy?”

  Pippa leaned forward. “He kissed like the guys on television. All hot and wild.”

  Trixie chuckled. “Why did you stop him? Why not have crazy sex with him?”

  Pippa sighed. “You know why. Lying has become second nature to me. This man definitely deserves better.”

  “There is no better than you, but I get what you’re saying,” Trixie said, her smile disappearing. “We’re going to be old cat ladies. Speaking of which, did you get a cat yet?”

  Pippa rubbed her chest. “No.” Einstein had died nearly five months before, and she didn’t feel ready to get another cat. Oddly enough, it felt like cheating on the cranky old tabby. “Not yet.”

  “I bought a fish.” Trixie snorted. “He’s a Betta, and I named him Alpha.”

  Pippa chuckled, feeling much better than she had in weeks.

  A shadow crossed the table, and she looked up, already smiling for the waitress. Then she stopped breathing. “Malcolm,” she croaked.

  He smiled, his green eyes twinkling. “This is a surprise. Are you following me, gorgeous?”

  She blinked and quickly turned her head to look around. Just normal people eating greasy diner food. “How did you find this place?” she whispered, her body tensing to flee. If she could even get past him.

  His eyebrows went down, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey. Are you all right?”

  No. Hell no. This didn’t make sense. “Why are you here?” she asked, looking at Trixie and then back at him.

  Trixie had tensed and paled, and her hand was already on the table to shove herself up and start running.

  Mal took a step back. He looked different in dress slacks and a blazer over a crisp white shirt. Unbuttoned at the top, however. “I have a meeting here in ten minutes. It’s the only place outside of Minuteville to eat lunch this early. I told you I was heading here for an interview. Remember?” He studied her, concern in his tone.

  “I remember,” she said, looking around again.

  He cocked his head to the side. “Did you dye your hair darker?”

  God. That had to seem weird. She licked her lips. “I was just trying something new. But I didn’t like it, so I tossed on the hat.” She gave the last excuse before he could ask. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice her different eye color behind the thick glasses and under the brim of the hat. “It was a mistake.”

  “Hmm.” In the suit, he looked like a government agent. One she’d been taught to fear so long ago. “Why didn’t you tell me your meeting was here? I mean, after I said I was heading to Minuteville?”

  She swallowed and plastered on her practiced smile. A quick glance at Trixie showed an identical expression. “This was a last-minute change.”

  Trixie nodded dutifully. “Right. We usually meet closer to DC. Better restaurants, you know. But I had a date out here last night and ended up staying the night. So this was better.”

  Pippa barely kept from shooting her a pathetically grateful look. Great cover. They had to get out of there before Mal asked more questions. But she’d seem rude and suspicious if she didn’t introduce them. “Sally Peterson, please meet my new neighbor, Malcolm West.”

  Trixie held out a hand. “It’s so very nice to meet you.”

  Mal took her hand. “You too, Sally.” He glanced toward the door and nodded. “My guy is here.”

  Pippa reached for her purse to leave just as the waitress brought their lunches. Damn.

  Mal moved out of the way. “Oh, good. You’re just starting to eat.” He moved back in and tugged her ponytail almost playfully. “I’d love to see the darker hair. How about you and I grab dessert after our lunches? I have a couple of things I’d like to run past you.”

  Trixie’s eyebrows rose, and amusement danced in her eyes. “You were saying you’d like to try the apple pie.”

  Pippa barely tightened her lips. Now her friend was trying to matchmake? Pippa was a baker—she didn’t try diner pie. Ever. For Pete’s sake. “Oh, I’m not sure.”

  “Please?” Mal said, his voice low and coaxing. “It’d be nice to share a piece of that pie.”

  She was stuck. There was no way to refuse without creating more suspicion. She looked over her shoulder at a man who’d just slid into a booth. “All right.” She jerked her head. “Is that the person you’re meeting?”

  “Yes.” Mal’s jaw visibly tightened. “That’s him.”

  “The paper pusher?” she asked. The guy had a snazzy suit and a power tie, smoothed-back dark hair, dark eyes, and a nicely trimmed beard. He looked more like a stockbroker than an office drone.

  Mal shook his head. “No. I met with him already, earlier. This guy’s a DA from New York who has a cabin nearby for fishing. Jerk probably wants to combine his vacation with work, so he can write it off.”

  She stiffened.

  Mal chuckled. “Don’t like lawyers? Me either.” He released her hair. “Or are you worried about the law?” His voice was teasing, but his eyes were alert. Like always.

  She coughed out a laugh. “Funny. No, it’s the suit. Never liked a guy in a suit.” Her gaze went pointedly to Mal’s blazer.

  He winked. “I’ll take off the jacket for dessert, then. Sally, it was nice to meet you.” He grinned at Trixie. “And Miss Smith? I’m greatly looking forward to our dessert date. If you’re really good, I’ll spring for ice cream, too.” With that, he turned and loped gracefully toward the booth closer to the door.

  Pippa let out air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  Trixie mouthed the word wow.

  Pippa tried to control her breathing and prevent herself from running out of the diner like a crazy woman.

  “He’s hot,” Trixie said thoughtfully, digging into her salad. “Looks like a cop, though.”

  Pippa jolted. “How so?”

  “His eyes. Reminds me of that cop outside of, where was it? Milwaukee. Except not so furious. Well, maybe a little angry.” Trixie chewed for a few moments, her gaze over Pippa’s shoulder. “Yeah. He has a nice smile, but there’s boiling emotion in him. Right?”

  Pippa nodded. “I think so. He’s an ex-cop, by the way.” She leaned over and swiped the brown contacts out of her eyes. If she tried to keep them in while having ice cream with Malcolm, he’d definitely notice.

  Trixie sighed. “Once a cop, always a cop. You know if they ever catch us, we’re done for. They have our fingerprints.”

  “Maybe.” She could feel Malcolm’s presence in the diner. “Maybe the family lied to us. Maybe nobody has our fingerprints. We were just kids, Trix.”

  Trixie nodded. “That’s true. But are you going to take the chance?”

  Pippa bit her lip again. She was tired of not taking chances. At some point, didn’t she have to start living? If not, what had she been fighting for?

  Chapter Ten

  Malcolm sat across from the lawyer and ran his gaze down his expensive suit. “You couldn’t dress down for a diner in the middle of nowhere?” he drawled.

  Comstock set down the stained menu with a long-suffering sigh. “I was in court, flew my ass down here, am meeting with you, and then flying back to effin’ court.” When the waitress appeared, he gave her a thousand-dollar smile and asked for the special.

  “I’ll have the same,” Mal said, not giving a crap
what the special was.

  His earbud crackled. “Talked to a couple of truckers. They said to order the pastrami,” Angus Force said easily.

  Wolfe snorted, and Malcolm cut him a hard look across the diner. The soldier was sitting in a booth by himself, facing the door. They’d left Angus outside because Pippa had seen him the other day. “I ordered the pastrami,” Wolfe said, tucking in his chin. “I’ve gotten several pictures of the woman with Pippa. Who’s following her after lunch?”

  “I am,” Angus said.

  Malcolm tuned back in to whatever the lawyer was saying. “I’m not testifying,” he said, just in case that was where the conversation had turned.

  “You don’t have to. God. Don’t you listen?” Comstock muttered, wiping off his utensils on the napkin. “I just need you to run me through the evidence specifically against these two guys. The file is a little light, and I’m sure it’s just because they weren’t high up in the organization.”

  Jesus. The last thing in the world Mal wanted to remember was those morons. But he recounted every detail, more than once, while the attorney made notes. They finished their sandwiches.

  Thankfully, both Force and Wolfe mainly stayed silent through the earpiece.

  Finally, Comstock sat back. “That’s enough. They’ll have to plea out. Thank you, Detective.”

  “I’m not a detective.” Mal wanted to get back to Pippa. Why the hell did she have a go-bag?

  His earbud crackled. “We have movement out here,” Angus said tersely, the wind whistling through the line.

  Mal stiffened and angled more to the side so he could ask, “How many?”

  “How many what?” Comstock asked, counting out bills for lunch.

  “Two cars. One going out back,” Angus said. “Shit! Get down, get down, get down!”

  Mal launched himself into motion, grabbing Comstock by the neck and tossing him to the floor. He was halfway back to Pippa when the front windows exploded with gunfire. “Get down!” he yelled. He reached her as she was trying to run from the booth. He smashed into both her and Trixie, forcing them beneath the table. “Stay right there.” Yanking his SIG from the back of his waist, he crouched down, covering them.