I sat in the office at Alli’s going through the emails Rachel had saved. They dated back years, some of them from the beginning of her relationship with him at UCLA. But it was the most recent ones that interested me.

“He always communicates over emails. He never liked cell phones and said landlines were too easily compromised,” she’d told me. “Even when we were in school, it was only email.”

The first of the recent emails was dated five months ago. It was the first she’d received in nearly a year. It asked her for a favor, for which her answer was no. She told me that she was attacked getting into her car a short time later. Her attacker wasn’t Briggs, but she was convinced it was someone he’d hired. One of his followers, as she called them.

“He had this group of people who were always just around him. Mostly men, but there were a few women, too. People who were willing to do anything for him.”

And then she told me about the attack.

“I was working at a convenience store up in Oregon. I liked the night shift because it was rarely busy, and I could finish my work early and spend most of the night reading. I was leaving my cabin, on my way to the store one night. I stepped off my porch, and he came out of the shadows. I knew him, but I couldn’t tell you his name. He was a guy who used to follow Briggs around everywhere he went. He stabbed me. Twice.”

The look on her face when she told me this was genuine. I couldn’t imagine anyone, even the best of actors, faking the look of horror and pain and injustice that was written all over her face.

“I managed to call 911. I had to have surgery to repair the damage, and then it got infected.” Tears welled in her eyes. “It was a nightmare. And then he starts sending these emails…what choice did I have?”

I was reading those emails now. The first was a false sort of condolence. Even a stranger could have seen the insincerity dripping from his words.

Heard about your accident. Despite our differences, I still consider you one of the best things in my life. I do hope you recover quickly.

Several more were along that vein. And then he began suggesting he knew she was having money issues.

Sorry about the loss of your job. If you need anything, I’m always here for you.

Taken out of context, these emails were all innocent. But added to the fact that she knew her attacker was an associate of his, added to the fact that he seemed to know things about her that she hadn’t shared with anyone, added to the fact that the emails came once or twice a week, and then every day…I could see why she felt harassed. Why she felt she had no choice.

And then the big one.

I heard you were having money issues. I think I might have something that could solve your problems. I need a little help with an issue of my own and thought…well, we could kill two birds with one stone. What do you say?

That email was followed by an attachment that contained my dossier. At least, the dossier he’d been able to build.

No one knew much about me. My credit history, my criminal past…it was all computer generated, created with the idea of keeping my identity safe, intact, and off all radars. If he’d been able to access the truth, Briggs Thomas never would have put a woman like Rachel on me. He would have run for the hills.

I was glad to see that my identity still held up. But sometimes I felt like I was pushing the boundaries a little too hard. If anyone ever figured out the truth…

The truth was, I was wanted in four countries for espionage, theft, extortion, and murder. And I was wanted in my own country for the slaughter of ten members of a militant group not unlike the Guardians, who’d harassed and tortured people in my village for years. If anyone was ever able to crack the code on my past, I’d be deported and likely put to death the moment my feet hit the soil of my home country.

I wondered what Briggs Thomas would do with that information. Probably wet his pants.

These emails were more proof of Rachel’s story, but they still didn’t tell me why he had singled me out for her to spy on. Why not Quentin or Matthew? Was it because neither of them was really a mystery around here? Matthew had been a member of the Guardians and was still a member of the church, as far as I knew. And Quentin had grown up on a ranch just outside of town that the Guardians had managed to steal from his father via a foreclosure by the bank. Neither hid their pasts or their hatred for the Guardians. And Jack. He was an open book to anyone interested enough to take a look. I was the only wild card.

Was that why? Did Briggs really think that putting a beautiful woman in my bed would get him answers he thought he needed?

He had a lot more thinking to do if that was the reason.

It was late when I finished going through the emails for the third time. I’d also gone through some of her other emails, looking for any secrets that might come out and bite me. She’d saved emails from several talent agents who tried to help her find work. She had multiple emails saved from a school she’d once worked for, teaching drama. And she had emails from a few friends, mostly emails that contained photographs or GIFs she’d found interesting enough to want to save. Nothing nefarious hid in her email folders, nothing that suggested she was a member of the church or that she supported the Guardians’ modus operandi or their philosophies.

I did find one thing I thought was fairly interesting. Her father had been emailing her for weeks, trying to reconnect with her. The tone of the emails suggested they hadn’t talked in years for reasons he failed to mention. But it was clear he was desperate to reconnect with her now.

She hadn’t answered his emails. But she hadn’t thrown them away, either.

I wondered what that was all about.

“Hey, boss,” Tracy said, tapping on the door frame. “Closing time. Everything’s locked up, and the shelves are stocked. Anything else you want from me before I go?”

I glanced at my watch, aware that it was late, but not realizing it was that late. “No. Go home, Tracy. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night, Patrick.” She hesitated a moment. “You okay? You seemed a little distracted all night.”

“Just working a case. Nothing big.”

She nodded, laying her hand on my shoulder in more of a friendly gesture than the suggestive way she’d touched me before. “Try not to work so hard. Take some time for yourself, huh?”

“Don’t worry about me, Tracy. I’m good.”

“Yeah, well, we all need a little rest and relaxation from time to time, if you know what I mean.” That flirtatious side was back. She dropped a wink and squeezed my shoulder. “Go find yourself someone to rest and relax with.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I stood and gently pushed her out the door. “Go home.”

“Yes, sir!” She giggled as she started toward the front of the store. “I love an assertive man!”

She was still laughing as she went out the door. I couldn’t help but chuckle a little myself.

I knew I really should go. Rachel was back at the hotel, not handcuffed. She kept insisting I could trust her, and I supposed I was going to have to eventually. I’d left her there for two days without the cuffs, and she hadn’t tried anything. At least, not as far as I knew. If she did now, at least I’d know the truth about her intentions.

But I was really hoping she was just lounging on the bed, watching reality television.

I turned everything off, grabbed the bank deposit, and headed out. I found myself thinking about Briggs, wondering how he knew she’d moved to Oregon if she was living under a false name, and how he knew so much about her situation. Did he have spies up there? As far as I could tell, he had been in Colorado the entire time he was sending those emails. There was no record of him leaving the state, and I had public photographs of him on some of those dates that put him at the church there in Denver. Yet, he knew she had lost her job, knew about her hospital bills, and knew she was about to be evicted.

Who told him?

He had pictures of me, too. Most of them were taken here in Ellaville, likely by other Guardian members back when Jack first picked his fight with them. But there were a couple from the Memphis area. Those bothered me.

Where did he get them? Who would have had a reason to take photographs of me before I got involved with the Guardians?

It was almost like Briggs had access to law enforcement files. It was like he was working with a bigger agency, using resources that even we at Stone Security could only access under certain circumstances. And most of those were with the help of a hacker. Did he have a hacker in his employ?

That would be interesting. The morality police using illegal means to gather information on their enemies. Talk about hypocritical!

I walked into the hotel room with a pizza balanced on my palm. Rachel jumped off the bed and snatched it from me, setting it on the table and opening it immediately.

“I’m starved!” she announced as she bit into her first piece.

“What’ve you been up to?” I asked as I kicked off my shoes and loosened my tie.

“Watching Real Housewives. Those people are pretty crazy, you know? I couldn’t get work pretending to be a crazy person, but they just invite people into their houses and reveal their true selves, and they get paid millions and have all these people addicted to watching them every week. It’s not fair!”

“It isn’t, is it?”

I slipped out of my jacket and hung it carefully on its hanger before falling into a chair across from her. She handed me a piece of pizza, and I savored the first bite, hungrier than I’d thought. And exhausted.

“You look wiped.”

“It’s been a long day.”

Her eyes moved slowly over my face, taking in every line and curve. “You sure that’s all?”

I shrugged. But the truth was, I was concerned that Briggs was up to something, and that it was right there in front of me and I was missing it. Why his interest in me? What had I done to get on his radar?

Or what might I do?

“Those pictures he sent you of me, were those the only ones?”

“Everything he sent me was in there.”

“He never showed you anything when you got here? Never told you anything more about what you were supposed to do, what he wanted from me?”

“Not really. He just kept telling me that it was important you believe I’d been sexually assaulted.” She tilted her head as she chewed another bite of her pizza. “Could he know about the woman you knew who was attacked?”

“No. No one here knows about her.”

Curiosity burned in her pretty eyes. “Who was she? Your sister?”

“No. She was the woman I was supposed to marry.”

Her expression changed. A flash of something like grief—and maybe some jealousy—rushed through her eyes. She lowered her head and concentrated on her pizza for a long moment, but the curiosity must have gotten the better of her, because she didn’t let it go.

“You were engaged.”

“Yes. We had known each other since childhood. We were supposed to have this great life together, but I had to serve my country first. I was gone when she was hurt.”

“You were in the military?”

“Military intelligence.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Not really. It’s required of most of the young men in my country. And my father…he ran the whole thing for a few years, sending young men to other countries the Prime Minister saw as a threat. He hated it.”

“And your girl? What did she do while she waited for you?”

I was no longer hungry. I tossed my pizza back into the box and leaned forward, wiping my hands on a napkin. I hadn’t talked about Kala to anyone but Ariella in a long time. It felt strange, but liberating in a strange way.

“She was a teacher. She was a strong, independent woman who fought against oppression and things she saw as unfair. She wanted to change the culture of our little village, to let little girls know they could grow up and be more than a wife and mother, to let fathers know that they could protest their little boys being taken from them and forced into military service. But she was only one woman.”

“She caused trouble for herself.”

“That’s what they called it. But I think the real trouble came when I stood up for her.” I sat up, my eyes moving slowly over Rachel. “They were harassing her once when I came home for a visit. I went to them and suggested they leave her alone.”

“Suggested?”

I rolled my shoulders. “I put a couple of them in the hospital.”

“And then you left.”

“Yes. And they thought it was a good time to prove to her and to me that they were the ones in charge. I was nearby, waiting to be sent overseas. They called me after they snatched her off the street, described what they were doing to her. By the time I got there…it was done. And she was…broken.”

“I’m sorry.”

I leaned forward again. “It was a long time ago.”

She was quiet for a long time, picking at her pizza. I picked up mine again and took a few bites, but it tasted like cardboard.

“Is that why you had to leave your home?”

“Partly. Yes.”

“And the person who calls you? Who is that?”

“My sister.” I tossed the pizza slice into the box and wiped my hands again. “My father passed not long before all of that. My sister had been living with Kala’s family, but after everything that happened, they didn’t want her around. They didn’t want me around. I had contacts…they helped put her in a safe place, and they sent me here, to America.” I grunted slightly. “I’m sitting in the middle of the desert in Arizona when I should be married, children running around, making furniture with my fucking father-in-law.” I chuckled humorlessly. “Can you see me making furniture?”

“No.” She set down her piece of pizza and wiped her own hands before standing. “I think you’re right where you belong.”

She came to me and climbed into my lap, straddling me. Her hands moved over my jaw, my face, sliding up against my scalp, my hair scraping against her palms. I wrapped my arms around her waist, tugging her forward against my hips as her lips scraped my forehead. She kissed her way slowly down the bridge of my nose, skipping my lips in favor of my chin, the angle of my jaw. I lifted my head slightly, and she pressed her mouth against my throat, exploring the spaces she’d met briefly the other night when she had tried to distract me from handcuffing her to the bed. This time was a distraction, too, but I think it was more of a mutual thing.

I pulled her closer, my hands slipping up under her blouse. Her skin was soft, like satin sheets, her heat against my throat almost hypnotizing. I pressed my fingertips into her, wanting to hold her so close, closer than it was physically possible to get. It felt as though there was nothing left to hide between us. But when she began unbuttoning the top of my shirt, I knew I couldn’t do this. Not like this.

“Rachel,” I said, my hands returning to a more appropriate position, pushing at her well-covered shoulders, “you don’t have to do this.”

She studied my face, a soft smile on her lips. “I know.”

She moved into me again, her lips reaching for mine.

“No, Rachel.” I buried my fingers in her hair, my touch more gentle this time. “I can’t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking me to do anything. I want this.” She kissed my jaw again. “I want you, Patrick…or whatever your name is.”

“Moshe.”

I reached up to capture her lips, drawing her close. She groaned softly against me even as her lips parted, as she welcomed me inside of her. It was sweet and hot all at the same time, the taste of her, the feel of her. The way she seemed to know just how to touch me. Was it that I’d never had such a satisfying kiss, or was it that I hadn’t known a woman as satisfying as her, period?

The heat intensified between us instantly. She began to tug at my shirt, untucking it at the same time that she pulled at the buttons, trying to release them all at once. Giving up on that, she slipped her hands underneath, causing my stomach muscles to quiver with the excitement of her touch. I slipped my hands over her hips, under her blouse once more, but she pulled them away, holding my wrists to the top of the chair as she rose high against me, pressing her body tight to mine as she deepened our kiss.

“It’s my turn to be in control,” she whispered against my mouth. “You sit still.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Don’t make me go find the handcuffs.”

There was a twinkle in her eye as she said it.

Her hands began to explore me again, slipping under my shirt again. I unbuttoned it for her before slipping my hands under my head, trying to obey her demands. She started just under my chin, her mouth creating a hot trail down my throat and over my pecs. Her tongue teased my teeny nipples, her teeth coming out and doing what I was dying to do to her, nibbling at that tender tissue. And then she slowly began to make her way lower against my abs, falling gracefully off my lap and onto the floor.

She was so beautiful! She stared up at me with those gray eyes, a seductive smile on her lips as she worked at the front of my slacks. I don’t think I’d ever been as aroused just by the sight of a woman as I was in that moment. I couldn’t resist touching her, letting the back of my fingers brush her jaw as I slipped my fingers into her hair. But I pulled away without encouraging her toward what I already suspected she had in mind. She was in control, and it was a beautiful, erotic thing.

Rachel’s lips were soft and burning as they slid across my lower belly and down my hip, briefly exploring my upper thigh. I moved my hips so she could strip me, watching her as she watched me, pleased with the excitement that was so evident in her eyes. When she took me in her mouth, my head exploded with more pleasure than I’d ever imagined possible. It took everything I had to sit still, to not attempt to assert some power over her as she explored, as she got to know me in the most basic of ways. It was an experience I’d never had before, that sense of giving away my control in favor of the most delicious sensations my body had ever known.

I wasn’t sure I could last as long as she seemed to desire. She would bring me to a frantic level, her movements sure and quick, and then she’d slow, touching and exploring with her fingers and her tongue, doing things that were almost as overwhelming as that quicker, harder movement. I cried out once, shocking myself. I was historically a silent lover, enjoying the physical without feeling the need to scream about it. But…she was bringing out new heights in me I hadn’t ever known before.

When she stood and slipped her panties off from under her long skirt, my heart skipped a beat. I welcomed her back onto my lap, my hands pressing themselves under that skirt to hold her bare ass, pulling her against me in more of a helpful manner than a demanding one despite the fact that my body was definitely demanding her, demanding what she was willing to offer.

She slid against me, teasing me with her silky promise of erotic pleasures. I groaned, begging her with a few movements of my hips. She leaned close to me, her lips brushing against mine, another tease that refused to fulfill a promise.

“You’re driving me crazy,” I groaned as I pressed my hips against her again, even as she pulled her hips away from me. “I want you!”

“But you’re not the one in charge here,” she said, pulling my hands out from under her skirt.

“Rachel,” I groaned, burying my hand in her hair and jerking her close to me, stealing her lips with a passion that was far above anything that had thus far transpired between us.

She kissed me back, her tongue dancing with mine even as her hips continued to tease mine. The ache in my groin was growing unbearable. I was seconds from tossing her onto the bed and taking what I wanted without waiting to ask what it was she wanted. But then she gasped softly against my lips as my body found the entrance to hers. She threw her head back, a low groan bursting from her lips as our bodies became one, as mine filled hers with a perfection that was almost overwhelming.

My fingers bit into the solid upholstery of the chair’s arms, my need to touch her so strong that it took all I had not to. But that concentration on not touching her distracted me just enough from the pleasure of her slow movements to make it last. And I wanted it to last. I wanted to watch her face, watch the pleasure dance there. I wanted to see her reach her heights, wanted to see that dance explode into ecstasy.

And it was a dance. Her hips did beautiful things as she moved against me, her whole body filled with this grace that was absolutely beautiful to watch. She slid her hands down the length of her body and back up again, her fingers teasing her own breasts, her own nipples. She touched her throat and her lips, too, touching herself in all the places I desperately wanted to touch her. All I could do was watch and move my own hips in ways that made her move a little more gracefully, a little more intensely.

It was a moment I would never forget.

I knew the second she came to her pinnacle. Her muscles became taut and her eyes burst open, falling on my face for a brief moment before falling closed again. She pressed her hands into my shoulders and ground her hips against me, a cry falling from her lips that was the most beautiful musical note ever. And then she collapsed against my chest, her breathing quick and heavy, the breathing of a woman who’d just run a marathon and won.

I held her for several long moments, my entire body aching with a need for release. I waited as long as I could. When I could wait no longer, I picked her up and stumbled to the bed, pressing her against the mattress as I’d wanted to do for what seemed like a lifetime. I undressed her gently, my hands exploring tenderly every inch of her beautiful body as she slowly came back to life, her hands following mine over her own flesh. When I found that place in the center of her, that place that had the power to drive her to the same edge I teetered on, she came to life with even more vitality than she’d shown before. And then I took her, pressing her hands above her head and moving in my own dance, to my own rhythm. She joined me, the soft moans and the heated kisses only adding to the music that played in my head.

When I fell from the cliff, she came with me. It was a tender moment, but it was also the height of eroticism, the most intense moment. I looked into her eyes as it happened, and she looked into mine. It was overwhelming, the emotions that came over me in that moment. I was not an overly emotional man. I tried not to feel as a general rule. Emotions caused problems.

If I hadn’t gotten emotional when I saw those men harassing Kala, perhaps things would not have happened as they had.

But this…it was like I had no power over it. And that was both an overwhelming and a freeing realization.

I kissed her gently, our lips lingering.

“What the hell are you doing to me?”