Eddie had described the spot perfectly: a desert path surrounded by a dozen ten-foot-high boulders, perfectly sheltered from prying eyes and passing traffic on the highway.

When I drove my car up the sandy road, the undercover DEA agent was standing next to his bike in the shadow of one of the rocks.

I got out of my car.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, fucking great,” I snapped.

He ignored my tone and looked at my face and arms, checking for bruises. “Did he hurt you?”

“You were there. You saw what happened.”

“I meant Jack, not Lou.”

You mean, other than breaking my heart into a thousand pieces?

“He didn’t touch me,” I said dully.

Eddie nodded as though reassured. Then, because he didn’t really have anything else to say, he followed up with, “Tough break last night.”

I laughed bitterly. “‘Tough break?’ Is that what the DEA calls having somebody put a gun to your head and nearly killing you?”

“It happens when you’re undercover.”

“You put me in that situation.”

“You were undercover before I ever got to you, Fiona. And it was your own shit that got you in trouble last night, not working for me.”

Fucker.

He was right, and I hated him for it.

“How did Lou find out?” I asked angrily.

“I have no idea.”

Because I was pissed and I had no other outlet for my emotions, I went after Eddie. “Thanks for all your help, by the way,” I said sarcastically.

“I couldn’t break cover unless it was absolutely necessary.”

“Really. When would it have become absolutely necessary? After my brains were all over the wall?”

“I knew he wasn’t going to kill you,” Eddie said.

“Oh, you did, huh? Wish I was psychic.”

“It was a power play to get Jack out of the way. That much was obvious from the get-go. Lou just used you to do it.”

Ouch.

The invisible knife in my gut twisted just a little bit more.

“The only question,” Eddie said coolly, “was if you were going to dime me out. And you didn’t.”

Not because of any loyalty I feel to YOU, I thought, but I was smart enough not to say it.

Instead I said, “Yeah, I didn’t – so I want what you promised me.”

He reached into his motorcycle’s saddlebag, pulled out my scrapbook, and handed it over.

Tears sprung to my eyes as I opened the cover and saw Ali again – alive and happy, untouched by tragedy.

I took a deep breath. “That’s nice, but you know what I mean.”

“The original agreement was quid pro quo. You only get information if you provide me with something on Jack Pollari.”

I stared at him in shock. “You son of a bitch – after everything you put me through – ”

“You put yourself through,” he interrupted.

“ – you’re going to hold out on me?!”

“That was the deal.”

“Fuck your deal! I almost got killed!”

“So be thankful you walked away with your life.”

“This is all your fault! None of this would have happened if you hadn’t – ”

“Bullshit. I didn’t have anything to do with Lou finding out about you. Anything that happened last night happened because of you, not me.”

His smug certainty enraged me.

“You don’t know that!” I shouted.

“Of course I do. If Lou had found out about me, I’d be dead. And you know it.”

It was a good point, and impossible to refute. So I just kept talking and tried to find another point on the way. “If you hadn’t broken into my motel room, and blackmailed me – ”

“Then you’d be sexually assaulted and probably dead. Or have you forgotten about the guy Lou sent to ‘question’ you?”

He was talking about Roach, the loathsome rapist that Lou had sent after me. Eddie had knocked him out, and then his DEA buddies had thrown Roach into a car and driven him off to God knows where.

Shit.

No matter how much of an overbearing, thuggish, blackmailing federal asshole he’d been to me, he was right: I’d probably be in a shallow desert grave right now if Eddie hadn’t been there that night.

“What happened to him?” I asked, trying to keep away from how much I did or didn’t owe Eddie for saving me from Roach.

“Let’s just say he’s safe from getting into any mischief at the moment.”

“At your super-secret CIA black site where you waterboard people?”

“I’d get things done a whole lot faster if that were the case,” he said drily.

“Tell me what you know about Ali’s murder,” I pleaded with him.

“Not until you give me something on Jack.”

“There’s nothing to give you!”

“Maybe in a week or two, when he gets over it – ”

“He’s not going to get over it. He’s never going to get over it.”

“Then I guess you’re fucked.”

He turned his back on me and walked over to his motorcycle.

“You’re a soulless son of a bitch, you know that?” I said, wishing with all my might that he would spontaneously combust there on the spot.

“No, I just have a job to do. And I can’t go being a bleeding heart for everybody who wants something from me.”

“You should help me. We want the same thing!”

“No we don’t,” he said as he got on the motorcycle. “I want to put a bunch of criminals in jail, because that’s where they belong. You’d let the criminals go free, just as long as you get your revenge.”

“I want to see whoever killed her in jail,” I protested angrily.

Eddie scoffed. “Is that why you’re carrying around a .38?”

“That’s for protection.”

“Yeah, well, that worked out real well, didn’t it?”

“Fuck you!” I yelled. “I hope Lou does find out about you, and I hope he puts a bullet in the back of your head!”

I felt ashamed of myself as soon as I said it – but Eddie just smirked. “There she is – the real Fiona Christensen.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes you did. But I don’t blame you.” He started the bike. “If you get something useful on Jack, call me. You’ve got the number.”

With that, he roared down the dusty road back toward the highway, leaving me alone in the noonday sun.