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“Did he say anything else?”

“Just that he wanted Clarissa. It seemed like he had someone he was working with, because when I told him where she lived, he made a call.”

Realization struck. “He was the one working with Mendes,” Clarissa said. “Not Solomon.”

The Asian butler who’d answered the door suddenly appeared, holding a phone.

“Excuse me,” he said. “But there’s a phone call.”

“Later, please, Tom,” Raven said.

Tom held the phone out. “It’s actually for Miss O’Connell.”

Clarissa’s every sense went on alert, and she instinctively moved to place herself out of the line of sight through the windows.

“Get down,” Langston ordered Jake and Raven, who quickly complied. He hurried to the side of a window, peering slightly around the edge to look outside.

Clarissa accepted the phone from Tom, then took a deep breath.

“Hello?”

“Miss O’Connell, finally. You’re a difficult woman to track down.”

“Who is this?”

“I believe Raven has told you all about me. My name is Clarke. You know, you would have done me a great favor if you’d just killed her.”

Clarissa glanced at Langston and made a motion with her hand, pointing to her eyes, then the room. He nodded that he understood. Someone was indeed watching them.

“Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint you,” she said.

“Mendes brought me the accounts,” Clarke continued. “While he was very useful at some things, he wasn’t always the brightest bulb in the room.”

“Was?”

“He’s dead now. My temper got a little out of hand when I realized you’d encrypted the files right under his nose.”

“Yeah, I can be a real pain in the ass.”

Langston shot her a look, and Clarissa shrugged. Maybe antagonizing him would bring him out of the shadows.

“If my agent had done what he was told, I’d have you by now, and we’d be spared all this unpleasantness.”

“I’m sure it would’ve been a real walk in the park for me,” Clarissa shot back.

“Tell Agent Langston that I’m looking forward to seeing him again.”

The threat sent a chill down Clarissa’s spine, and her gaze went to Langston.

“Give me the password,” Clarke demanded.

“Yeah, see, here’s the thing,” Clarissa said. “If I give you the password, you’ll empty those accounts, leaving me with no bargaining chip for Solomon. I need that money, so I’m going to have to say no, sorry, you don’t get the password.”

“I had a feeling you might say that, so
here’s the thing
,” he mocked her. “Someone like you has very few weaknesses; you’re too smart for that. So while there aren’t many, I’ve managed to find one.”

A sense of foreboding came over Clarissa. “Oh, really?” she asked, pretending nonchalance. “And what’s that?”

“Your brother, of course.”

Clarissa’s eyes slipped closed. Dammit. How had he gotten Danny? All this work she’d supposedly done for Solomon, and now a crooked Fed had her brother.

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” Clarke continued. “You’re going to meet me tomorrow at the Oak Alley plantation along the river road. Alone. You’ll transfer the money to me, and in return, I’ll hand over your brother.”

“This could all be a bluff,” Clarissa argued. “How do I know you really have him? Solomon was supposed to get him.”

Clarke laughed. “So clever. All right, you want proof, hold on.”

Clarissa held her breath. Would he put Danny on the phone? How would she even know if it was really him? She couldn’t remember anything. Her hand clenched in a fist at her side, her unseeing gaze on Langston as she waited. Finally, a voice came on the line.

“Rissa?”

The nickname went through her like an electric shock and her knees gave out. She slid to the floor, her head swimming.

And she remembered.

S
he’d told him not to do it.

The heist was too dangerous, too unpredictable, and the stakes too high. But as usual, Danny ignored her. The payoff had proven irresistible, though Clarissa had been leery of Danny getting involved with such a well-known and infamous crime boss as Solomon.

She’d followed him that day, just in case Danny got himself into a jam he couldn’t talk or fight his way out of. Little did he know that she’d helped him from the shadows on more than a few occasions. His arrogance knew no bounds, and she was afraid he’d overestimated himself with this job.

She’d been right.

Chased by cops, Danny had nearly gotten away. Then he’d pulled a gun.

Clarissa had watched in horror as Danny fell to the ground, the cop’s bullet striking him in the chest. She’d been too far away to help, not that she could have done anything anyway. She wasn’t going to sign her death warrant by getting into a gun battle with the cops.

Danny had survived the gunshot wound, only to be sent to prison.

Clarissa had felt cast adrift and had moved away to New Orleans. Her every move had been orchestrated and dictated by her brother since she was a young girl. It felt strange not to have that anymore, not to have anyone anymore.

For the first time in her life, she took a legitimate job. Writing software from home for a tech company based in California. It had felt good to not be looking over her shoulder constantly. To not be under the constant strain of wondering which of their so-called partners would turn on them, rat them out, blow the job.

Then the phone call had come. Solomon had a proposition for her, an offer she couldn’t refuse. Not if she wanted to ever see her brother again. That’s when Clarissa knew. She’d only been living in a fantasy world. It didn’t matter what she wanted or what she did, she’d never be able to escape her past or the people who wanted to use her.

A year. An entire year of her life she’d given, trying to fulfill Solomon’s demands while he kept his promise of freeing Danny dangling on a string. Each job was harder than the last and more dangerous. She’d lost count of all the close calls she’d had, barely escaping death or capture.

The assassin sent by Solomon to kill her after that last job in Colorado was proof that he’d never planned on living up to his side of the bargain. Luckily, Clarissa had already decided to take back control of her life, even knowing it would likely seal her fate.

She’d die, that hadn’t changed, but it would be on her terms.

Erik glanced at O’Connell as he drove. She hadn’t said much since they’d left Raven’s house. Even now, she sat in silence, staring out the window.

Not that he could blame her.

The scene with Raven was still fresh in his mind, her absolute certainty that O’Connell would kill her bothering him more than he wanted to admit. Yes, O’Connell was dangerous, but not unreasonable. Not the O’Connell that he knew, anyway.

But what about the O’Connell he didn’t know? Would she have killed Raven?

Erik refused to believe that. O’Connell believed Raven had betrayed her, sent killers to trap and murder her. He could understand why she’d reacted the way she had. Betrayal was the flip side of loyalty. Those who felt great loyalty would also feel the deepest of betrayals. And if there was one thing that defined O’Connell, it was loyalty. She’d been loyal to a fault with her brother. What she’d done, had endured, because of him was astonishing. And sad.

“So when are you supposed to meet Clarke?” he asked.

“Sunrise tomorrow at a plantation outside the city. Alone.”

Erik frowned at her curt reply, glancing her way again, but she refused to meet his eyes.

“Well, obviously you’re not going alone,” he said. That got a reaction.

“Obviously?”

“I’m not going to let you walk in there by yourself so he can kill you.” That fact seemed pretty damn obvious to Erik.

“It’s not like we can call the cops or the FBI for backup,” O’Connell argued. “We have no proof that Clarke is behind this, and if they see you, they’ll arrest you.”

“You’re not going alone.”

“He wants to exchange the money for Danny,” O’Connell said. “And I know he has him. I spoke to him.”

“How are you planning on getting the money to him when you can’t remember how to do it?” Erik asked in exasperation.

O’Connell shrugged and turned away again. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Winging it with someone like Clarke is going to get you killed,” Erik said. “He’s got nothing to lose at this point. If he doesn’t get that money, he’ll kill you
and
your brother. And even if, somehow, you get the money to him, he’s still likely to kill you both.”

“I have to take that chance.”

O’Connell’s determination to throw her life away for Danny made Erik want to yell and pound the steering wheel in frustration.

“Someone’s following us.”

“What?” Erik glanced in the rearview mirror.

“That black sedan’s been three cars back ever since we left Raven’s.”

Erik frowned, looking again in the mirror. There was a turn up ahead and he made it, watching to see if the sedan followed. It did.

“We need to lose them,” O’Connell said.

“No shit.” Nothing like stating the obvious.

“Don’t get snippy,” she retorted. “Give me your gun.”

“No way,” Erik said. “You’re not just going to start shooting at people until we know who they are and what they want.”

“Because
that’s
worked out so well before.”

Her sarcasm grated on him, and it wasn’t because she was right, dammit.

“When you’re with me, you’ve got to play by my rules,” he said.

O’Connell snorted and rolled her eyes. Erik ignored her.

Erik stomped on the gas, and the car shot forward. He maneuvered carefully between cars, enduring more than his fair share of honks and middle fingers flipped his way.

“They’re getting closer,” O’Connell said. She was twisted around in her seat now, watching behind them.

“Here, you drive,” Erik said.

“What? Why?”

“In case we do have to start shooting; I have a badge and you don’t,” he explained.

“Fine. But for the record, I’m a better shot than you are.”

“For your information, I was the youngest kid awarded the rifle shooting merit badge in my troop,” Erik said, holding the wheel as she climbed across him.

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

“Just enough to get you back into my bed.” She took over the gas pedal and Erik slid out from underneath her.

“It takes more than fancy shooting,” she said loftily, making a sharp turn.

Erik was thrown against the door. “Would you warn me before you do that?”

“It’s a car chase! What do you expect?” She laid into the horn, cutting off any retort Erik might have made.

“Can you let them get close enough so I can see who they are?”

“Sure,” she said. “Just don’t get shot.”

Without warning, O’Connell stomped on the brakes and did an illegal U-turn. Horns honked around them and tires squealed. Erik was flung against the door again, then back as she gunned it.

“Out your side,” she said.

Erik looked out his window and saw they were now speeding toward the sedan in a game of chicken. At the last second, O’Connell swerved and they skimmed the side of the car, missing it by inches. Erik got a good look at the man driving.

“It’s Kaminski,” he said.

“Who?”

“My partner.”

“I thought you two broke up?” O’Connell swerved down a side street, made three more turns in rapid succession, and lost him.

“We didn’t ‘break up,’” Erik said. “We just don’t work well together.”

“So why is he here?”

“No idea.”

“You thought he might be the mole, but it turns out Clarke is,” O’Connell reminded him.

“I know, but he’s here.” Erik glanced at her. “They might be working together.”

“Or maybe he’s your partner and you’ve been missing for days and he’s trying to find you,” she said.

“What an uncharacteristically charitable thought from you, O’Connell,” Erik said.

She shrugged. “Guess your bleeding heart is rubbing off on me.”

They spent the rest of the car ride in silence until she parked in the lot at the bed-and-breakfast, and Erik took O’Connell’s elbow as they went upstairs to their room. Mrs. Cooper had thoughtfully left a tray of cold sandwiches for them. Despite their appearance upon arrival, it seemed she thought this was a romantic getaway. Erik noted the bottle of wine and two glasses also on the table.

He sat on the loveseat, bracing his elbows on his knees and steepling his hands under his chin. He observed O’Connell. She seemed strung out with nervous energy, pacing the room, picking up knickknacks here and there before putting them back down again. Erik wasn’t sure she even realized she was doing it.

“Do you think Kaminski knows what Clarke is planning?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“If he’s Clarke’s backup, he’s definitely planning to kill me,” she said.

“Which is why you need me there.”

“We’ve been through this — ” she began.

“He won’t know I’m there unless he makes a move on you,” Erik interrupted. “I just want to protect you.”

For a moment, he thought she didn’t hear him. Then she spoke.

“Danny is a convicted criminal, Langston,” she said, finally ceasing her pacing as she stared into the flames dancing in the fireplace. “You’re an FBI agent. Even if things do go according to plan, are you just going to let him walk away?”

The question gave him pause. O’Connell was nobody’s fool. She knew him well enough by now to know he’d want to follow the law and put Danny right back where he’d come from. But he also knew that if he did that, she’d never stay with him. She’d understand that he had to do what he had to do, but she’d leave.

He took a deep breath. “I would,” he said. “For you.”

O’Connell’s gaze snapped to his.

“If the only way I won’t lose you is by letting your brother go free, then that’s what I’ll do,” he said.

A breath of silence passed as he waited to hear what she’d say.

“You’d let him go?” she asked, disbelief edging her words. “Just like that? When you know what he’s done?”

Erik got up and went to her. “I promise you,” he said.

She searched his eyes, her brow furrowing. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not, I swear to you.” He cupped her jaw in his palm, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. Her skin was satin soft. “Look in my eyes. I’ll let him go. Trust me.”

“You don’t want to be with me, Langston,” O’Connell said softly. “Even if Clarke keeps his word, I still have a target on my back. Solomon will never stop looking for that money, only now I won’t have it to give back to him. You’ve got to know that.”

Her eyes were blue pools of sadness and resignation. It made Erik ache inside to see her hopelessness.

“I don’t care. We’ll find a way. I’ll protect you.” Even if it was the last thing he did, he silently vowed.

God help her, Clarissa believed him.

She shouldn’t. She knew enough, remembered enough, to know that everyone lied. Even her, as she stood there in front of Langston. He was putting everything on the line, baring his soul to her, and she couldn’t even bring herself to tell him that she remembered. She remembered everything.

And what would he say if he knew? Would he tell her the truth? The truth he’d been hiding all along?

The weight of the world felt as though it rested on her shoulders, and Clarissa thought with some chagrin, no wonder she’d lost her memory. Her life was empty, tragic, pointless. Who would want to remember it, if given the opportunity? Hell,
she
didn’t even want to remember, though she no longer had any choice.

No choice but to remember all the bad decisions, the left turns when she should have turned right, the times she’d said yes when she should’ve said no. Maybe if she’d said no, she might be worthy of this man standing in front of her, looking at her as though she meant more to him than his next breath.

“I’m not worth it,” she managed to whisper. Tears clogged her throat, but she swallowed them down. Clarissa O’Connell did not cry. Ever. A fact she’d forgotten along with everything else. Tears showed weakness, and she wasn’t weak.

“That’s bullshit,” Langston said fiercely.

“You — ” Her voice broke and she swallowed again. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I know everything you’ve done,” he said, “and none of it matters. Not to me. Not anymore.”

Well. The only correct response to that was for Clarissa to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss.

The same desperation Clarissa had felt at her house when she’d kissed Langston filled her again, only this time, she knew why that clock inside her head was ticking. It had nothing to do with Solomon and everything to do with her. Because once Langston found out what she planned to do, he wouldn’t feel this way about her anymore.

He cared about a woman who didn’t exist, a woman with no memory of her misdeeds or knowledge of exactly how far she’d go.

One more time. One last time. To be with him, to know how it felt to be cherished, protected, cared for above all others.

And one last chance to show him in return.

Clarissa unbuttoned his shirt without breaking their kiss. Their mouths melded together as though they couldn’t get close enough. She memorized his taste, the texture of his lips against hers, the feel of his arms holding her.

His chest was warm and hard to the touch. Her palms skated over his abdomen, the muscles there contracting at the light brush of her fingers. Langston’s belt was a minor hindrance, quickly done away with, then she was unbuttoning his jeans and lowering the zipper.

He groaned against her lips when she freed him from the denim, heavy and hard in her light grip. Pulling back, she dropped to her knees in front of him. Before he could say or do anything, she had touched her tongue to his cock, a slow lick that made Langston hiss between his teeth.