Catch, Release. Carol Ericson

peephole.

      The waiter called out, “Thanks.”

      Beau waited several seconds and then opened the door and wheeled the cart into the room. “Can’t be too careful, huh?”

      “If he’s been working in hotels a while, I’m sure he’s seen everything.”

      Beau stationed the cart by the table and began lifting silver domes. “Looks good. You hungry?”

      The steam that rose from the dishes carried some savory scents that made her mouth water. It had been several days since she’d eaten a real meal, and her stomach grumbled with the realization.

      “I am hungry.”

      Beau transferred the plates from the cart to the table and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”

      Deb shook out a thick white napkin and dropped it on her lap. She started with the soup and didn’t stop until she’d licked the last smudge of cream cheese frosting from her fork.

      “How long has it been since you’ve eaten more than a few bites of food?”

      She patted her mouth with the napkin. “Since the day they took Bobby.”

      “I thought so. You look—” his gaze dipped from her face to her body and back again “—a little thinner than when I last saw you.”

      Warmth crept into her cheeks and she covered the bottom half of her face with the napkin, pretending to wipe her mouth again. He should know.

      They’d spent almost the entire night naked in her hotel room. They’d eaten room service that night, too, but not seated at a table with napkins in their laps. They’d lounged across the king-size bed, feeding each other morsels of food, even incorporating the chocolate cake into their lovemaking. Instead of daintily patting their mouths with napkins, they’d hauled off to the shower, together.

      She coughed. “Being a mom keeps me on my toes. I don’t have as much time to work out at the gym, but I get to run at the playground and throw balls and chase after a speeding tricycle.”

      “Sounds like you love it...and him.”

      Deb studied his face. Was it time to tell him Bobby was his? Nope. Loki wouldn’t want to be saddled with a son anyway. How could he squeeze in a battle with Somali pirates between Little League games?

      Beau Slater may have come from ordinary, but he didn’t want to go back there.

      The cell phone by the bed chirped. The fork she’d been dragging across a plate dropped with a clatter and she half rose from her chair.

      “It’s him.”

      “Answer it. It’s what you’ve been waiting for.”

      She swallowed and all the sweetness from the carrot cake dissolved like ashes on her tongue. When the phone rang for the fourth time, she dived across the bed and grabbed it.

      “Yes?”

      “Good job at the jewelry store. You can keep the loot.”

      “I don’t want it. What was the point of that? Someone could’ve gotten hurt.”

      Beau jerked his thumb up, and she punched a button for the speaker.

      “Someone would’ve gotten hurt if you hadn’t followed our instructions, Deb. Just look at it that way.”

      “I—I’m in a different hotel. Someone was aiming a high-powered weapon into my hotel room this afternoon. I saw the beam on the wall.”

      Zendaris sucked in a breath. “Are you scamming me, Deb?”

      “Are you scamming me? Are you trying to kill me?”

      “Why would I do that? We’re just getting started.” He clicked his tongue. “But maybe your colleagues want you dead.”

      “Never.” Her gaze darted toward Beau slumped in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. Why had Prospero sent the best in the business after her?

      “Are you sure about that? If the mighty Jack Coburn gets wind of your betrayal, you’re finished.”

      She ground her teeth together. “It’s not a betrayal if it’s coerced.”

      “But they don’t know that, do they? Do they, Deb?”

      “As far as Prospero is concerned, I’m on a leave of absence. They have no reason to suspect otherwise.”

      “Where are you?”

      “Another hotel in Cambridge.” She held her breath. Would he demand the location?

      “Excellent.”

      “What next, Zendaris? A bank robbery? A high-speed chase?”

      “A party.”

      She raised her shoulders at Beau. “You want me to go to a party?”

      “A very special party with very special people.”

      “Where?” Deb licked her lips.

      “In Boston. You’ll be attending the gala fundraiser as part of the Symposium on Alternate Methods of Defense.”

      “What do you want me to do at this party besides eat, drink and be merry?”

      “I want you to get close to Dr. Scott Herndon.”

      “Get close to him and do what?”

      “Kill him.”