No Place To Hide. Madalyn Reese

      They stopped at the top of the stairs, greeted by Anthony, who radiated disapproval.

      “Don’t even say it, Brac,” Jim warned. “We’ve got to reopen our line of communication somehow.”

      “Why? Do you miss him? No juicy whacko to dissect all week?”

      “Yeah. Thank God you were here to fill in,” Jim replied.

      Emma bit her cheek, trying not to laugh, then blinked innocently when Anthony asked, “What are you laughing at?”

      “Not a thing,” she told him as Jim pulled another chair behind one of several computer desks.

      “All right, here’s the deal,” Jim began, leaning back in his chair until Emma was convinced he’d fall over. “I’m torn as to how we play this. My gut says we go for the throat. My head says we play it safe.”