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  Our host entered again, three drinks balanced in one of his massive hands. Dead calm, he handed Benita a glass, me a water bottle, and then took his own glass to a worn loveseat that he almost entirely filled.

  “I didn’t do anything illegal,” he said.

  Benita took a long drink, then set her glass down on his coffee table. She looked like she was about to say something, but Blake interrupted her.

  “Use a coaster, please.”

  She paused for a moment, and I could tell she was deciding whether to be saucy or not, but to my great relief, she grabbed one of the thin circles and put it under her glass.

  “There.” She straightened and took control of the conversation again. “And yes, we know you didn’t do anything illegal. Per se. But you did aid someone in an illegal activity. Now, I might be willing to believe that you didn’t understand the scope of what he was doing, or maybe weren’t informed, but that depends on how much you tell us about the guy who obviously duped you.”

  “Uh-huh.” He spoke slowly, but it was clearly not because his brain was working slow. “And what do you need to know?”

  “Eventually, his address, but we’ll get to that. First, a little background can go a long way. How’d you meet the guy?”

  He gave us both a hard look. “We met a couple years ago,” he said. “I don't remember the exact circumstances.”

  Like hell he didn't.

  “You're friends,” I said.

  Blake nodded. “And I don't rat on my friends to Feds.”

  I looked at Benita. Clearly, Blake wasn't going to give anything up if he thought we were going to arrest Bron. From what I could tell, they'd been through a lot together.

  I decided to take a chance. “Did Bron ever tell you much about his childhood?”

  Blake shrugged. “Little pieces, here and there. Always made it sound very Americana sitcom.”

  I nodded and felt Benita giving me a warning look, but I kept going. “Did he ever mention his best friend? A gawky girl, his age. They built a tree house together, rode bikes together, and were basically a package deal.”

  “Are you kidding? She was what he brought up nine times out of ten. But what does she have…” He trailed off, and I saw the moment the realization hit him. “Oh. Oh.”

  I nodded, feeling heat rising to my cheeks. “So, as you can see, it’s imperative that I find him. So, if you would be so kind as to write down the address of whatever hotel or penthouse he’s renting, you’ll actually be doing him quite a favor.”

  Benita handed him her pad, and he scribbled down the info we needed. When he handed it back, my partner finished off her drink and stood. I followed her lead, hoping she wouldn’t chew me out for giving out details that probably shouldn’t be public knowledge.

  “Thank you for your time, Blake. Hopefully, we’ll never see you again.”

  He stood as well, towering over us. “Actually, maybe you will.” He fished in the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out a slightly creased business card. “Call me if you ever need perfectly legal muscle.”

  Benita raised one of her eyebrows. “You have an actual security license?”

  “Would I have given you my card if I didn’t?”

  “Good point,” she said.

  I put my hand forward, and the giant shook it, his fingers easily encompassing my entire fist. “This means a lot to me.”

  “You’re welcome. But if I were you, I would hurry. If you’re here, that means Bron botched a con. And if I know the guy at all, he’s probably about to leave town for a good long while.”

  Shit. “Noted. We’ll be going then.”

  Blake nodded and walked us to the door, but before we could get going, Benita’s phone went off with the annoying tone she'd assigned to our boss.

  Great.

  She answered as I buckled in, her side of the conversation abrupt and terse. None of it sounded good.

  “What was that about?” I asked as soon as she hung up.

  “Colman wants us back at the station immediately.”

  “And?” I asked, my heart turning into a jackhammer in my chest.

  She put the Jeep into gear. “And Colman can suck a fat one.”

  Chapter Ten

  Bron

  I paced the floor of my hotel suite, cursing to myself and trying to figure out what I should do next. I was ninety percent sure that I had royally screwed up by trying to assuage Leticia’s anger with a painting. She'd looked like she was ready to forgive me until she'd seen it.

  Unless made specifically for replacing a piece I was stealing, I always made sure my forgeries were of fairly obscure pieces, ones in private collections that would be harder to trace.

  And that was when I remembered the name of the woman who owned the painting I'd just tried to pass off to Leticia.

  Shit!

  The Bavarian cousin. That's how I'd found out about Leticia, when I'd been forging the painting. There was a slim chance that she just hadn't liked the painting, but I knew that was really only wishful thinking.

  She'd known.

  I couldn’t understand how I could be so stupid. I'd pulled out much more complicated cons at least a hundred times before, but now, my own incompetence was astounding me. I'd always been smart, careful, but Karis had distracted me, made me lose my focus.

  I had to get out. Away as far as physically possible from her. She was poison to my mind and career. And sooner or later, she would catch me. It might've been a long time since I'd seen Karis, but I knew her well-enough to know that she had far too much integrity to not do her job.

  And she wouldn't have been the girl I'd loved if she let me go.

  I just wondered if those feelings were still in the past. That single kiss had done a hell of a lot to bring things back.

  I pulled my suitcase from the closet and tossed them on the bed. Before I started packing, though, I needed to make my arrangements. That would help me decide what to keep and what to leave behind. I needed to travel light this time. One checked bag, one carry-on. That was all. My whole life in two bags.

  I picked up my laptop. First, a decision to make. Where to go? A different state? A different country? The possibilities were only limited to flights leaving in the next couple of hours. I couldn't afford to stick around much longer.

  France? Too pretentious for me, and the art scene was...difficult. Individual grifters had difficulty working since most places had locals who headed the game. I had a couple contacts through Uaine, but the less I had to do with anyone close to him, the better.

  California? Eh, Silicon Valley was always fun, but the abuse of unnecessarily high tech security systems was usually too much of a hassle for the payoff. Plus, I'd always found the company...lacking.

  Canada? There was nothing in Canada. Toronto wasn't too bad. Neither was Vancouver, but for what I wanted, it'd be pointless.

  Finally, I settled on Sweden and booked my first-class ticket. No way in hell was I flying coach, even if I was trying to lay low. As I shut my laptop down, I caught my reflection in the black screen.

  I wouldn’t exactly call myself vain, but when I looked in the mirror, I was used to seeing a good looking man in charge of his life. Now, I just saw someone haggard, panicked, and looking for an easy out. Was this what my life had come to? Running away with my tail between my legs from someone I'd once considered my best friend?

  I closed my laptop and put it in its case. I needed to focus on getting away, on getting her out of my head. Thinking about her was most definitely counter-productive. I needed to get my shit together.

  I stood, put my laptop into my carry-on bag, and then went to the hotel safe. I opened the small bag that was in there, pulled out the passport and driver's license for the alias I'd booked my flight under – Lucas Gunderson. I tossed the rest of the aliases in my suitcase and then went to the wardrobe to start picking out the clothes I was going to take. Part of me wanted to panic and just shove random stuff into my bags, but that would be admitting defeat.r />
  And this wasn’t defeat. It was a tactical retreat. I was cutting my losses and getting myself to more fertile hunting grounds. Ones that didn’t have a determined FBI agent hunting me down. Distracting me.

  I finished packing what I needed, then headed for the door. When I reached it, I paused, realizing that if I kept going, I'd never see Karis again. We'd been separated for so long, long enough that I'd forgotten her. Or at least tried to convince myself that I had. But the moment I'd seen her, when we'd kissed, everything had come rushing back.

  Was I ready to walk out on that? Ready to completely abandon her? To never see her again?

  Before, our separation had been out of our hands. If I did this now, I'd be the one making the choice. It would be a conscious decision.

  I looked at the opulent, admittedly over the top hotel suite I was in. I looked down at my designer suitcases and stylish shoes. If I stayed, I didn't know what would happen next. I'd have to lay low, that much was for certain. If I didn't, if I sought her out, tried to see her again, I could end up behind bars for a very long time. No fancy clothes or hotel rooms until I was an old man. If ever.

  The question was…would it be worth it? Would she be worth it?

  I didn’t have an answer, so I opened the door and headed into the hall. I'd download a Swedish translator app at the airport and spend the time before my flight learning important phrases that I'd need once I landed.

  Chapter Eleven

  Karis

  I braced my hand against the dashboard as Benita took the next turn a little too fast for my taste. That was why she was the one driving, though, not just because she had seniority, but because we needed to get to Bron before he disappeared.

  Again.

  I looked down once more at the address Blake had given us. Just like I'd expected, it was the address of a five-star hotel in the center of the city where everyone who was anyone liked to stay. For being a wanted criminal and now a known con man, Bron sure didn't believe in laying low.

  It made me wonder in what other ways he was like Uaine.

  Finally, we reached the tall building, and Benita slammed to a stop at the front curb. I jumped out while she passed off her keys to a startled looking valet.

  “FBI,” I announced, flashing my badge. “We need to speak to the resident of suite eight-six-five.”

  The young man behind the desk looked up at me with eyes as wide as saucers. It was a refreshing change after Uaine’s receptionist. “Mr. Cappelli already left. T-that’s who you’re looking for, right?”

  Mr. Cappelli? As in our fifth grade math teacher? How many of his aliases had to do with our childhood? A trail to lead me to him, or his way of taunting authorities? Someone else might've been able to put it together, but I knew I was the only one who'd be able to see it right away.

  Still, I needed to confirm it. “Six-six, blue eyes?”

  He nodded, still looking pale and terrified. Clearly not as used to visits from the Feds as the ever-cordial Chelsea.

  “Do you have any idea of where he went?”

  “N-no, but the doorman might. I noticed they talked while Mr. Cappelli was waiting for a taxi. Giles is his name. He’s still here.”

  “Thanks. You’ve been a great help.”

  I tucked my badge back into my jacket, and raced back towards the entrance, causing Benita to do a u-turn and follow me.

  “Giles?” I asked, quickly approaching the lone gentleman at the doors.

  “That’s what they call me.” He gave me a charming smile. I only hoped he'd worked the same charm on Bron. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  “Yes, you spoke to a Mr. Cappelli earlier. Did he give you any clues to his possible destination?”

  “Mr. Cappelli? Yes, I spoke with him. He’s a wonderful regular, a pharmaceutical representative. Travels the world. I think he mentioned he was going to one of those Nordic countries.” A concerned expression came across his face. “Did something happen to him?”

  My heart was pounding in my ears, but I forced myself to remain calm. “Do you recall the country? It's imperative we reach him quickly.”

  “Uh…I can’t say for certain, but I think it was Sweden, perhaps?”

  “Sweden, you’re sure?”

  “As sure as I can be.” He gave me a scrutinizing look. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m sure you’ll read about it in the news,” I called over my shoulder as I sprinted out.

  As Benita chased after the valet who'd gone to park the car, I made a call to JFK.

  “Greetings, and thank you for calling–”

  “This is Federal Agent Karis Melendez, and I need to know if you have any outbound flights to Sweden in the next few hours.”

  The woman on the other end didn’t seem phased by my sudden interruption and specific demand. “One moment while I check.”

  Benita pulled up while the woman paused, and I climbed in. She didn't even seem to be out of breath as she peeled out. We'd barely headed toward the highway when the woman came back on the phone.

  “We don't have any flights to Sweden leaving any time soon, but I recommend checking with our sister airport, which tends to have more international flights. For security reasons, I can’t access their scheduling, but I can provide you with a number that will immediately take you to the appropriate person.”

  “That’d be great, thank you.”

  I grabbed a pen and paper from the glove compartment and furiously jotted down the number. The moment she finished, I thanked her, hung up, and dialed the new one.

  “Can I know specifically where we’re going?” Benita said in the split second I was between calls.

  “Greetings, and thank you–”

  I held up a finger to tell her that I needed a minute.

  “Federal Agent Karis Melendez. I was given this number by your sister airport. I need to know if you have an outbound flight for Sweden in the next few hours.”

  “Absolutely, Agent Melendez. Give me just one moment and I’ll be able to look that up for you.”

  Time seemed to be going both impossibly slow, yet rushing away in the blink of an eye. The wait was practically an eternity even as it felt like the seconds were slipping away. It was a paradox that made my head hurt and my heart pound.

  “Alright, it looks like we have a flight boarding at gate 9-B in a few minutes.”

  “Can you delay the flight?” I asked.

  “Yes, but I'll need your badge number.”

  “Of course.” I rattled it off as I leaned forward and put the address into the GPS so Benita could know where we were going.

  “Thank you, Agent Melendez. And you want that hold put on right now?”

  “Immediately,” I said. “But I need you to make sure it’s not obvious. If the suspect knows we’re onto him, he’ll run, and we might never find him.”

  “Absolutely,” the woman responded, still completely polite and professional.

  I made a mental note to make sure we thanked both airports for their cooperation. Sometimes people in authority abused their power, and I understood why that made people wary to help out. It was rare to meet several helpful people in a row.

  “We'll take every precaution to make sure the suspect isn't aware of our actions. When you enter our building, make sure to have your badge and Federal Agent ID ready, and you'll be immediately taken to the gate in question. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  I blinked for a moment, surprised by the efficiency of the system they had set up. It seemed uncanny when juxtaposed to the messy lump of ineffectualness that was the TSA.

  “No, that’s all for now.”

  I hung up and looked to Benita, who seemed to have gotten over the fact that I had ignored her pretty fast. “Gate 9-B. They’re delaying his flight, but we have to get there as quickly as possible. If he senses that even the remotest thing is off, he’ll disappear. I’m sure of it.”

  “You sure you want to do this?” Benita asked. “You catch him like this, there�
��s no more protecting him. You’ll have to bring him in.”

  My heart twisted at the thought. “I know, but it has to be done. I'll do what I can for him, but I can’t let him go.”

  In line with our theme of reckless driving for the day, Benita sped into the arrival area of the airport. Ignoring the stares, she parked and followed me as I ran. I heard her shouting out to nearby guards who we were, but didn't bother to look behind me. I knew she'd have my back.

  If I hadn't been racing against the clock, I might've felt some excitement about engaging in my very first suspect chase. As it was, my stomach twisted into knots, my heart squeezing painfully in my chest. If I didn’t manage to catch Bron, it was likely I'd never see him again. Granted, we had an extradition treaty with Sweden, but I'd have to find him again first. And if he realized we were on to him, I had a feeling he might change his mind and go somewhere we could never touch him.

  And despite the impact to my career, I couldn't deny that I was racing through this airport for a very personal reason.

  I didn't want to lose him again.

  My Bron.

  The boy I'd known and loved. The man he'd become.

  I needed real closure this time, no matter what it looked like.

  Somehow, I managed to get through all the steps I needed to in order to get cleared for an escort to the gate, and I found myself following two TSA agents through employee halls to the area where Bron's flight was being held.

  Despite the delay, the handful of passengers waiting seemed surprisingly calm, if a little antsy to board their flight. Now I had to make a choice. Did I stand here awkwardly between two TSA agents, waiting for Benita to back me up?

  Or did I go in myself?

  While I weighed my options, I searched the gate with my eyes, looking for Bron. According to the TSA, no one had left the area, but I had no doubt of how resourceful Bron could be if he knew he was cornered. I tried to be nonchalant as I scanned each face looking in my direction and each head of hair with its back to me.