Whistling under his breath, Brent dug through the kitchen cupboards for coffee supplies. This morning he didn’t need caffeine to clear his foggy brain. Claire had done that with a few suggestive words and some bare skin. He definitely liked her way of waking up better.

He found the filters, and soon the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen. As he poured the hot, dark liquid into two stoneware mugs, he heard footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder.

Claire wore black shorts and a bright red T-shirt. He let his gaze skim over her, from her bare toes, up the length of her shapely legs, to slim hips, a slender waist, perfect breasts and graceful shoulders. Her skin glowed, and her lips looked slightly swollen from his kisses. She made appreciative noises about the coffee, but he noticed her gaze slid away from his quickly.

Uh-oh. Regrets?

Her reaction stung more than he wanted to admit. Their lovemaking shouldn’t be something she regretted. She had been the one to come on to him last night, not the other way around. And again this morning.

Turning to face her, he planted his butt against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. What was her problem?

She glanced at Forrester’s CD on the kitchen table.

His anger vanished in sudden understanding.

With him next to her, she’d been able to forget what had brought them together. But left alone, she’d remembered the threat to her was gone, and Brent was no longer responsible to protect her. There was no reason for them to stay at the cabin any longer. No reason for them not to go their separate ways. No reason unless they wanted to be together.

Closing the distance between them, he pulled her into his arms.

 

AFTER A MOMENT’S hesitation, Claire relaxed against the solid wall of Brent’s chest. Her worries had been for nothing. Brent showed no signs of wanting to cut and run.

She eased back from him. “How about I make pancakes to go with that coffee?”

He stroked her hair with his fingertips. “I wish I could stay, but a debriefing meeting is scheduled at ten.”

“Call me when you’re free.” She remembered her mother saying the exact same words to her father more times than she could count. Of course, this situation was different. Brent didn’t owe her an update on his activities—or anything else.

He frowned. “Before I go, there’s something I want us to talk about.”

An uncomfortable suspicion niggled at her. Was he concerned that she’d have unrealistic expectations about the two of them because of their lovemaking? Did she have unrealistic expectations?

“What is it?” she asked.

He hesitated, and her uneasiness grew.

“I don’t want you to leave the Bureau,” he finally said.

Definitely not what she’d been expecting.

He must have seen her confusion because he blew out a frustrated breath. “I think we’re good together. I want to see more of you. But if you take that job in Minneapolis, this will be over before it really gets under way.”

Happiness welled up inside her because he wanted to keep seeing her, but she held it in check. What kind of relationship did he have in mind? Casual? Or serious? It was too soon to know if they could be soul mates, but she didn’t want to get in any deeper if his attitude toward commitment hadn’t changed.

“You want us to date?” she asked cautiously.

He nodded.

Disappointment butted up against the blossoming hope. “Does our dating stand a chance of becoming anything more?”

He eyed her warily. “What do you mean?”

“You told me you didn’t believe that people in your line of work should get married or have kids.”

His whole body stiffened. “I know we’ve come a long way in a short time, but don’t you think discussing marriage is kind of premature?”

“Of course it is.”

He relaxed noticeably.

“You’re asking me to turn down a terrific career opportunity, and I’m not willing to do that for a date or two.”

“Claire—”

“What if I stay here and fall in love with you? What then?” She wasn’t about to admit to him that it had already happened.

He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think we can predict the future.”

“I know that,” she said, her voice rising in exasperation. “I’m not asking for guarantees. Just some reassurance that your heart isn’t completely closed.”

His eyebrows slammed together. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask me this before we got naked last night.”

Now she was the one who felt uncomfortable. “I don’t regret making love, if that’s what you mean. Being with you was an incredible, unforgettable experience.” She smiled even though part of her felt like crying. “But I want to know if there are limits on our relationship. Is that so unreasonable?”

He shook his head. “You deserve to have what you want.”

Could he be the man to give it to her? She didn’t dare ask him. Instead, she said, “What do you want?”

He hesitated. “I thought I knew, but now…I’m not sure.”

He could have told her what she wanted to hear, but he was too honest to take the easy way out. It was one of the things she admired about him, but the hurt made it difficult to continue the conversation.

“You’re going to be late,” she murmured.

“Do you want to come with me?”

She shook her head. At this point, they could use the time apart to sort through their feelings.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said.

“I’ll be here.”

He started toward her, as if he intended to kiss her good-bye, but she turned away. As much as she’d enjoyed his embrace earlier, she was feeling too raw and vulnerable to let him touch her now.

“This isn’t finished,” he said from the doorway.

He was right. Nothing had been resolved. Even so, she felt a sense of relief that their conversation would be postponed until later. Hopefully, she’d know what to do then.

 

AN HOUR LATER, Claire stood gazing out at the lake. The sun had disappeared behind the clouds, but its absence didn’t detract from the beauty of the place or the peace she had come to know here. She was going to miss this view. But much more than that, she was going to miss Brent.

She’d reached a conclusion, one that was hard to accept, yet ultimately realistic. Despite everything that had happened between them, they weren’t destined to be a couple. No amount of discussion was going to alter his attitude toward commitment. If he promised her anything more now, it would only be because she’d pressured him into it. Her heart would end up broken when he realized a long-term relationship wasn’t what he truly wanted.

Having made a decision about Brent, she now needed to do the same about her career. If she remained at the Bureau, Brent’s presence would be a constant reminder of what she wanted but couldn’t have. Only a masochist would subject herself to that kind of pain, especially when there was a ready alternative. She would take the job at Balanced Life Consulting Group and move to Minneapolis. Once there, she’d be so busy adjusting to her new environment, she’d have little time to brood about Brent.

She was tempted to call Marcy Dearborne, CEO of the company, knowing if she made that commitment, she wouldn’t back out of it. But she felt she owed Gene the courtesy of quitting her job with him before accepting another.

She punched in his number, then chewed on her fingernail as she waited for the call to connect.

When Gene came on the line, she cleared her throat. “It’s Claire. Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, I’m between meetings.”

She knew this wasn’t the ideal time to break her news, but she wanted it over with. “I’ve decided to resign from my position at the Bureau.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She cringed at the harshness of his tone. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I don’t think the Bureau’s the right place for me anymore.”

“Why not?” Gene demanded.

Because Brent works there. She couldn’t say that, and it wasn’t the whole story, anyway. She’d been dissatisfied for months. “I don’t feel that I’m helping anybody.”

“You know these guys, Claire. They don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves, but they still have problems. You’re great at getting people to open up to you.”

“Maybe in the past,” she conceded. “But right now, I’m burned out.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. “This is Brent’s doing, isn’t it?”

“I was thinking about quitting before I ever met Brent.”

“Why don’t you come in tomorrow so we can talk—”

“There’s no point,” she interrupted. “I’ve made up my mind.”

Silence stretched between them.

When Gene finally spoke, the bewilderment in his voice was nearly palpable. “Are you sure you’re leaving for the right reason?”

She should be able to answer his question without hesitation, but the words wouldn’t come. Her thoughts about Brent and the Bureau had become hopelessly intertwined, and she couldn’t seem to separate one from the other. Would she look back one day and realize she’d left a job she was uniquely qualified to do simply because of a failed romance? Or was she only second-guessing what she knew in her heart to be the right decision because of her feelings for Brent?

“I…I have to go now,” she said, her voice hoarse with suppressed emotion. “I’ll call you later to finalize the details.”

Intending to be on her way soon, she packed her carry case and set it by the front door. It was hard to believe only a week had passed since she’d caught her first glimpse of the cabin. In that short time, she’d grown surprisingly attached to the place, but it was an attachment she knew she had to let go of. Just as she knew she had to let go of Brent.

It wasn’t easy. She still felt a lingering hope that somehow she and Brent could resolve their differences and become a couple who laughed and loved and shared life together. But she knew better. She would never marry Brent. She would never raise a family with him. Part of her rebelled against such defeatist thinking. Other people managed to turn their dreams into reality. Why couldn’t she?

Brent had the capacity to love deeply. His feelings for Pete proved that. Was she naive to think he would one day fall as irrevocably in love with her as she had with him? What if he never realized their relationship was worth committing to? She’d have squandered a great job opportunity. At least her new job wouldn’t require patient assessments, so she couldn’t mess up as she had with Forrester. Misreading him was the biggest mistake she’d ever made. For her own peace of mind, she needed to figure out where she’d gone wrong. Only then would she be able to move on.

She thought back to her sessions with him, and to last night at the manufacturing plant when she’d watched him on the monitor. What was she missing? Why did she believe him guilty of blackmail, but not the other crimes? Was it professional pride obscuring her perception? A reluctance to accept that Brent had been right and she had been wrong?

No. It was Forrester’s shocked expression when accused of attempted murder, arson and bomb-setting. But his denials had been cut short by McKenna’s arrival on the scene. She remembered Gene cursing beside her in the van. Despite specific orders to his team, one member had flown solo. After that, chaos had reigned.

She’d been terrified for Brent at the time, but now she was able to consider the events objectively.

Why had the plan gone to hell? Because Forrester had panicked.

What had set him off? Brent believed he’d been overwhelmed by the prospect of prison, but there could be another explanation. Maybe Forrester had realized he’d been set up to take the fall for crimes committed since his escape from Ridsdale and that the person responsible wouldn’t let him stay alive to defend himself.

Who had worked other operations with Forrester? Who had survived the attack at his house with only a bloodied scalp? Who had left his surveillance position to come to the plant, then taunted Forrester with the words, “It’s over,” before firing his weapon?

McKenna.

No wonder she’d experienced uneasiness when she had met him. Her subconscious had been warning her to beware.

She considered calling Gene again, but her suspicions concerning McKenna would likely be met with the same skepticism as her doubts about Forrester. For the FBI to launch an investigation into one of their own, she needed proof.

How could she possibly come up with that proof?

No physical evidence or eyewitness had been found for any of the crimes committed after Forrester’s escape from Ridsdale—

The escape from Ridsdale.

McKenna couldn’t have engineered that alone. Someone inside Ridsdale must have been involved. And her internal radar had already zeroed in on the staff member responsible.

She called the facility and requested that Maria Gomez pick up a personal call in the office on the second floor, away from her regular workstation.

A few minutes later, the nurse came on the line. “Hello?”

“My name is Dr. Lamont. I’m the psychologist who was with Brent Young, the FBI agent you spoke with a few days ago.”

“How can I help you?” Maria asked coolly.

“First, I want to assure you that I’m calling on a disposable cell phone so there’s no way anyone can listen in. Second, you should know that Andy Forrester is dead.”

“What?” The coolness was gone from her voice.

“Your former patient, the one you helped to escape, was shot and killed last night.”

“You heard me tell that agent I had nothing to do with him getting out.” There was desperation and anxiety in her voice, confirming for Claire that her initial suspicions had been correct.

“I think you said that because you were scared. Scared of the man who pressured you into getting involved in the first place. You now have a chance to stop being scared and fight back.”

The nurse took a moment to respond. “Why should I listen to you?”

“Because you can get this man locked up. All you have to do is identify him for the FBI and tell them that he threatened you.”

“He did worse than that,” Maria said, her voice trembling with emotion. “He threatened my children.”

“Tell me about it,” Claire murmured.

“The day after Forrester was admitted to the hospital, a stranger stopped me in the parking lot. He knew a lot about my kids—their ages, their babysitter’s name and address. Then he told me if I wanted to keep them safe, I’d better think of a way to get Forrester out.”

Claire closed her eyes, imagining the young mother’s terror.

“Those kids are my life,” Maria whispered. “I couldn’t risk something happening to them that I had the power to prevent.”

“I understand,” Claire assured her. She didn’t know of any parents who could withstand that kind of pressure.

The other woman let out a sigh. “When I heard how many people Forrester had hurt since his escape, I had second thoughts about what I’d done. But it was too late by then, and I was still so afraid for my family.”

“I don’t believe Forrester was responsible for any of that. I think he was framed by the same man who threatened you.”

“Do you know who that man is?”

Claire hesitated. If she revealed McKenna’s name, Maria’s positive identification of him might later be challenged in the courts. But the media had been all over the plant within minutes of the shooting. If McKenna was visible in their footage of the event and Maria picked him out on her own, there wouldn’t be a problem.

“Are you near a TV?” she asked the nurse.

“There’s one across the hall in the lunchroom.”

“Turn on a news channel. See if there’s any coverage of Forrester’s shooting.”

A few minutes later, Maria Gomez returned. “He was there, the man who threatened my children. His name is Alec McKenna and he’s an FBI agent.” She sounded shocked by this realization, and even more terrified.

“FBI or not, he will pay for what he’s done if you’re willing to come forward and tell your story.” A long silence followed her words.

“I’ll do it,” the nurse responded finally. “I want him locked up. That way, I’ll know my children are safe.”

Claire agreed wholeheartedly with her reasoning. “You need to talk to his supervisor, Gene Welland, at the Bureau. Call him immediately, tell him who you are and everything that you just told me.”

 

THE DE-BRIEFING seemed to last forever. McKenna, Metzger, Alston and Howard recalled hearing a warning shout before the first shot was fired, Brent, Starr and Cobb remembered hearing it afterward, and the rest thought the two had happened simultaneously. Fortunately, the recording from the van was available to settle the matter. McKenna had shouted a warning a split second after he’d opened fire.

Brent was grateful when Gene called a short break to deal with an operational issue.

Twenty minutes later, they reconvened in the meeting room.

“We’re missing someone,” Gene said, looking around the table.

“McKenna,” Metzger supplied.

Brent glanced through the open doorway in time to see McKenna being hailed by Lisa Conrad, Gene’s administrative assistant. The agent made a quick detour to her desk, where she passed him a slip of paper.

Brent saw him look down at the note as he headed toward the meeting room. His steps faltered, and his mouth tightened into a thin line. Whatever he’d seen had obviously displeased him, but he made no mention of it when he rejoined the group.

“Okay, let’s see if we can reach a consensus,” Gene said.

When Brent glanced around the table, he noticed McKenna staring at him intently. Something in the other man’s expression made the hair rise on the back of his neck. Then McKenna looked away, and Brent figured the man simply had a lot on his mind.

Several minutes later, McKenna clutched his stomach. “I think the pizza I ate last night was rotten. My gut’s been killing me all morning.”

Excusing himself, he headed for the door. “If I don’t make it back, you know I went home to puke in my own toilet.”

“More information than we really needed to know,” Metzger said, rolling his eyes.

Brent doubted McKenna’s exit had anything to do with food poisoning. More likely the agent was sick and tired of the whole debriefing process and wanted to skip out. As Gene launched into more discussion of the prior night’s events, Brent wished he could escape, too.

Finally, Gene ended with, “I want reports from everybody on my desk tomorrow.”

Tomorrow worked for him, Brent thought. He had things to do today—like picking up flowers for Claire and making dinner reservations for them at Gencarelli’s, his favorite Italian restaurant. After a terrific meal and a few glasses of red wine, he’d explain that he’d never felt more optimistic about a relationship, and he couldn’t see it ending anytime soon. Hopefully, Claire would see that as a positive sign and put the brakes on her moving plans.

Gene’s next words nixed his plans. “I’d like you to hang back after the meeting’s over, Brent. There’s something we need to discuss.”

 

ALEC MCKENNA strode angrily through the Bureau’s parking lot.

He should be feeling good today. Forrester was dead, killed before he could implicate him in either the blackmail scheme or Sanderson’s murder. Not his original plan, which had called for Forrester to be blown up when he visited his beloved Trans Am at the storage unit. Instead, Langdon had triggered the bomb and Young had found Forrester’s backup copy of their blackmail files.

In hindsight, he should never have arranged Forrester’s escape from Ridsdale. But he didn’t know what Forrester might let slip if they used drugs on him. And he no longer trusted a partner whose conversations with the Bureau psychologist had led to his being locked up.

With Forrester at large, he became the prime suspect for the attacks on Claire Lamont and he would have been blamed if she had been killed. Now that he was dead, the psychologist would have been safe—if the nurse at Ridsdale had stayed scared and silent.

When he reached his car, he reread Maria Gomez’s message that Lisa had asked him to deliver to Gene. “Claire Lamont recommended that I contact you about an urgent matter.” The nurse probably thought that mentioning the name of the Bureau’s psychologist would lend more credibility to her request.

His risk of exposure had never been greater.

Two women were to blame for that.

Neither of them would live to see another dawn.