Despite Katrina's kind offer to share the bed with me, I sleep like shit. It's not that the bed is too soft, or too hard, or anything like that. The room's nice enough, and the air conditioner works fine.

The problem is Katrina. I wake up three times in the night, each time in a cold sweat worried that something is wrong with her, looking around. I lie back, trying my best to relax and not wake her, but I can't help it, and I toss and turn for a while before dropping off into a light, disturbed sleep again.

My mind keeps whirling with images from last night, of her smile as she and I walked along Ocean Drive, or the way she enjoyed the Cuban food we had together, and especially how beautiful she was in her new skirt. Finally, at five in the morning, I give up and turn over, peeking over the blanket we've rolled up and placed between us, watching Katrina in the early morning sunlight. She really does have the face of an angel, and in sleep the constant tension she carries almost all the time is gone, making her look softer, more vulnerable, and achingly beautiful.

I think back to that moment, right before the call from her friend Darcy, when we were so close. Was I making the move to kiss her, or was she? I know I wanted to, and at that moment I'd have been willing to risk a shattered nose or a broken arm to kiss her.

As the morning light brightens our hotel room slowly, I calm myself by studying Katrina's face. Okay, fine, I'll admit it to myself. I have feelings for her. In fact, they're more than just feelings. And as much as my cock stirs at the thought of her touching me the way she did in the limo, I want to hold her and protect her. Even though I know that if the zombie apocalypse ever does break out, she's probably the one who'd end up protecting me. I want to give her the happiness that's been denied her life for so long, and I want to see her smile more like she did before she got that phone call.

Katrina stirs, a little smile coming to her features, and she opens her eyes, seeing me looking at her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I answer. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than you did,” she replies, reaching over and taking my hand. “You tossed and turned a lot.”

“Sorry,” I apologize, thrilled by the touch of her hand in mine. “Did I disturb you?”

She shakes her head and gives me a soft smile that sends warmth flooding my chest. I'd kill for this woman at this very moment if she asks me. “No, I was okay. Actually, I've slept a lot worse than tonight. My first few weeks in the loft, I had a hell of a problem with rats and mice.”

“Oh? The place looked spotless every time I've been there.”

Katrina nods and her smile becomes a little more predatory. “You'd be surprised what you can do when you sleep light and you have a decent pellet gun by your side. That was before I got my Glock.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “So what's the plan?”

“Breakfast, then we head down to Coral Gables,” she says. “It's going to be a long day. I'd prefer to not just kick in someone's front door without some sort of verification.”

Our first stop is, in fact, a Burger King, where we get breakfast sandwiches and talk. “So my plan was to use the Metro today,” Katrina says as we munch. Burger King does at least have decent tater tots, although I think the sandwich itself sucks. “I mapped out the address the other day, there's a station just a few blocks away. I think it'll make our work a lot easier and less conspicuous.”

“If you think so,” I say, sipping at my drink. “What about sun and heat?”

“We'll stop at a 7-11 or something like that, and stay mobile,” Katrina replies easily. “Also, I was thinking, on the way is a shopping mall. They've got to have a sporting goods store, so we'll stop and get a pair of binoculars or a spotting scope or something. Something small, so we can still look inconspicuous.”

“You seem to know a lot about doing surveillance on places,” I note, and Katrina grins. “Wait, don't tell me... you did ninja training, too?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “No, but I did intern with a private investigator for a summer. I didn't do a lot, mostly made sure he stayed awake during night stakeouts, oh and one time I acted as a plant for him as he was working a divorce case. Seems the husband supposedly had a taste for teen girls.”

“Did he?”

“Maybe, but never for me. That was where I met the girl who taught me the Touches, and you know how useful those are.”

I shiver at the memory, and she gives me a little smile. “Yeah, they're pretty effective.”

“I think it's the person giving them as much as the technique themselves,” I say, and then grin. “Sorry... I guess that's a little too personal.”

“No, I appreciate it. In fact, I appreciate everything you've done the past few weeks,” Katrina says quietly. “Maybe Darcy was right.”

“About what?”

She shakes her head, and finishes her juice. “Later. Come on, let's grab some drinks, make sure we're protected. You've got your sunblock?”

We take the Metro to the mall, where we get a pair of palm-sized binoculars and get back on the Metro, going two stops past The U and getting off. It's not far, less than a mile, and to be honest, it's not a great neighborhood. “I wonder why a man who stole so much from the city lives in such a fucking bad neighborhood,” I ponder as we leave. “Seriously, you'd think he'd have kept enough to live a bit better than this.”

“That's probably why,” Katrina says, pointing out two coeds who go walking by in short shorts and bikini tops. “Let's face it, if he had an affair with your mom, he's probably not above cheating on my mother with other people, too. And this is... a neighborhood with a lot of scenery.”

“I've seen better,” I reply, giving Katrina a meaningful look. “Besides, you could probably kick both of their asses, and their boyfriends', too.”

“Well, yeah, like... duh,” Katrina replies with a fake bimbo accent that has me in stitches. “Point taken, compliment accepted, and thank you. But we're being pros right now, okay?”

“Okay,” I agree, following her. Katrina's dressed in her work clothes too, the same pants she wore yesterday along with her long sleeve crop top, baseball hat and sunglasses, although the light training shoes have been replaced with lightweight mid top boots. She's ready to kick some ass if need be, and I wonder if somewhere in those baggy pants is her Glock. I mean, we flew, but still, who knows what tricks she’s learned.

We get to the apartment complex, the Palm Garden Apartments, which is a five-story stucco building with what looks like maybe some sort of green area and a pool in the middle. “Well?”

“According to the address, the apartment's most likely on the third floor,” Katrina says, taking out our new binoculars and giving the building a quick scan. “Let's walk around, see if we can spot anything.”

We can't get to one side since there's another apartment in the way, but we do find a way to circle around, and I see a problem. While the building has only one main entrance/exit, a security gate that connects to the parking lot and the walkway to the sidewalk, the apartments wrap all the way around. “There's no way to watch all four sides at once.”

“Then we focus on the entrance-exit,” Katrina says. She looks around, and points. “There, that looks decent enough.”

The 'decent enough' spot Katrina points out is a little bookstore with a coffee bar in front, sort of a Barnes and Noble clone, and we settle in. I'm glad for the shade and air conditioning, and the shop owner seems happy enough when I go over and slip her fifty bucks, as well as ordering some tea and scones. I'm not really hungry, but we are using the shop's seats, after all, and I don't plan on buying any books.

We keep watch together for about an hour before Katrina taps my arm. “Hey, instead of both of us, let's take thirty-minute shifts.”

“I'm not confident enough to identify your parents if they walk by, especially your mom,” I admit sheepishly. I don't like admitting I'm not Superman. “I mean, I'll help when I can, but I might be calling for your help.”

Katrina considers it, then grabs the binoculars. “Wait... there he is!”

I look across the street and see a man, roughly fifty or so with a rather large, angry pink bald patch on his head, just about Katrina's height, with a bit of a potbelly and a slouch coming down the street, wearing jeans and what looks like a bowling league shirt heading toward the security gate. “You sure?”

“He's got the same birthmark on the left side of his neck that my Dad had. He's gained weight, gone to seed a lot, but it's him.”

“Great, so how do we get in?” I ask, stopping when the shop owner brings us more tea and scones. I guess she thought that my fifty was asking for repeat service, not that I mind too much. “I doubt he'll just answer if we buzz that we're UPS or something.”

“Actually, that's pretty close to what I was thinking,” Katrina says, sipping her tea. “What do you think?”

I take a sip of my tea and grimace. “I think I've picked up Nathan's tea snobbery. This stuff is terrible.”

Katrina chuckles and downs her tea quickly. “Come on, we can take the scone with us in your backpack.”

We cross the street, and Katrina studies the security gate. “Hey, we won't have to do anything. It's not buzzered or anything,” she says, and I see she's right. There's a simple latch, but that's it. I guess it's not the sort of apartment to have all that much security. “Cheaper place than I thought. Come on.”

We go inside, stopping at the mailboxes, where we see that apartment 302 is listed as 'Ball'.

“You ready?” I ask Katrina, who looks suddenly nervous. “What is it?”

“I... I don't know,” she says, looking over at the stairs. “I mean, it's been ten years. And while I know there's a lot of things to not be happy about... it's my parents, Jackson. What if, what if there's a reason they did what they did? What if I can't do it? What if...”

I pull Katrina close and hug her tightly, cutting off her self-doubt. “You'll do the right thing. I know this much about you, Katrina. Live in the moment, and don't let your self-doubt stop you.”

She stiffens for a moment, then hugs me back. It feels amazing, and it feels even better when she sets her head on my chest. “This is why I'm glad you're here, Jackson. Thank you.”

“It's no problem,” I reply, my nose filling with the scent of her hair and stirring emotions deep inside me. “I'll be right by your side the whole time.”

Katrina squeezes me tightly and lets go, stepping back. “Okay. Then let's go see what's going on with my parents.”