He grabbed Katie up and kissed her with a passion like never before. Then he whooped as he watched the two cats already make themselves at home.

  “This is the shit.” In addition to two plush cat beds, there was a carpeted tunnel connecting the two, plus a carpeted tower that climbed all the way up to the ceiling. A hole cut out in the top of the tower emptied out onto a small ledge that wound around the entire room.

  “You aren’t even a cat person,” he marveled.

  “It’s straightforward, Holden. You told me your condition was that you be able to bring your cats. I made sure you had a place comfortable enough for cats. It just took a few days for the kit to arrive, and I wanted to surprise you.”

  “I love you.”

  She smiled wide. “Listen, I don’t have a cat condo built for just anybody. I love your cats, and I love you too.” Holden growled and scooped Katie up in his arms.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I gotta wash Crow Bar stink off me, and I’m gonna wash the dust and sweat off you. And then I’m gonna stuff your mailbox with the biggest thank you note ever.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Holden

  Bright and early Monday morning, a knock on the door roused Holden out of bed.

  After the perfect weekend with Katie, he’d been planning to skip his run and catch up on sleep.

  Instead, he opened the door to two people who introduced themselves as agents, asking if they could come inside and take a look at the condo.

  Holden obliged, remembered what Katie had said a few days ago, that he might have to accommodate real estate agents and potential buyers while living here. He made himself scarce while they looked around and decided to go ahead with his run before meeting up with his new trainer in Shoreline.

  The session with this mysterious new Coach Hammer was about as he expected. He’d been right — there was no boxing gym in Shoreline. The “training” session took place in the basement of a beachfront home that had been outfitted with a slapdash mat, bags, and other equipment.

  The trainer himself seemed less interested in critiquing Holden’s technique and more interested in texting with someone on his phone.

  At the end of the session, at which point Holden felt like he’d wasted his entire morning, the only thing Coach Hammer said to him was, “You’re good. All you gotta remember is what Junior said, and make it convincing.”

  Pissed as fuck, Holden sped down the driveway, then became doubly agitated at having to wait for the giant privacy gate to open so he could leave.

  No sooner was he out of the winding driveway than he realized he was being tailed by someone in a sleek black van. All the way to the Ocean Drive approach on-ramp, the van followed Holden’s Camaro way too close.

  He did not like this one bit.

  If there was one thing he learned from knowing Levi and Billy, it was how to lose someone. Holden signaled right to merge on to Ocean Drive, but he veered left and drove right over the divider at the last second. The black van, not a vehicle with half the Camaro's maneuverability, continued up onto Ocean Drive.

  Just to be safe, Holden did not go home but drove to the safest place he could think of at the moment.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Katie

  “They’re back, Ms. Moss.”

  Anissa, Katie’s assistant, sounded spooked again.

  At least today was Monday, and there were plenty of brokers in the building to accommodate those two.

  “I apologize, but I think you’d better come out here,” Anissa said.

  Annoyed at yet another interruption, Katie emerged from her office to come face to face with Mary and Murray.

  But when they flashed their badges, she realized those were not their names.

  Mary and Murray reintroduced themselves as agents Mariano and Gilmore, assigned to the Public Corruption division. Katie showed them into the conference room once again.

  Her suspicions were confirmed that those two were not who they had said they were. But now, a whole new set of problems were about to surface. Breathe, Katie. Breathe. You’ve done nothing wrong.

  She closed the conference room door and asked what she could do to help them.

  The two agents shared a look, and the female agent, Mariano, answered, “We’re investigating members of the Newcastle City Council for accepting bribes, and we are requesting some assistance from you.”

  Katie blew out a breath. “Let’s have a seat, then.”

  Mariano pushed a manila folder across the table. Upon opening the folder, Katie saw that the councilman in question was no surprise.

  “Oh,” she breathed. “Yeah.”

  Councilman Breck Barrett had the stink of mafia ties on him. Page Six had reported that Barrett had been spotted at the private funeral for Christopher Goring, the kid who had attempted the governor's assassination. The attempt had been made at the behest of the kid’s father, a known capo for mafia don Ralph Girardi. Barrett had even been seen at parties at Girardi’s well-guarded Shoreline estate. Some said that Barrett, the Dockworkers Union president back in the ’80s, was responsible for allowing mafia infiltration into the union to extort and intimidate the fishing and canning industries. These were the rumors, but nothing ever stuck. And he still managed to get re-elected to represent Dockside, now well into his fourth term.

  Barrett had always been the most challenging sell whenever Ecco Corp was involved in a project requiring approval from the city council.

  Gilmore explained, “The government is continuing to build its case against Girardi and his men. The lawyers are framing the assassination attempt as the tragic, suicidal action of a troubled youth, and the federal prosecutors might not be able to make those crimes connect to Girardi.”

  Katie felt gobsmacked. “It was all right there in the papers. The connections are all over the place. They even infiltrated the governor’s private security firm—hell, even his driver—to make sure they could get into the event.”

  The agents exchanged a knowing look, then Mariano replied, “Bottom line. We need more charges against more people to dismantle the entire outfit. After what happened, the president herself is demanding investigations of these outfits all over the country. Resources are coming with it. So we want to stick it to Girardi and anyone friendly with him or his ilk. We’ve been watching you because your company owns more buildings and more square feet of land than anyone else in Newcastle. Girardi and Barrett are a close second and third to Ecco Corp. We’ve done our homework, and so far we’ve found nothing to draw suspicion.”

  Katie laughed even though she knew it was not a laughing matter. “I appreciate that.”

  Gilmore said, “What we’re asking is for you to wear a wire.”

  “I don’t understand. My only contact with the city council is at public hearings. You want me to wear a wire to a meeting that’s already being recorded for public consumption?”

  Mariano shook her head. “To a boxing match.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Mariano explained. “Ever since Girardi has been in custody and under house arrest, we’ve been monitoring his phone calls and come up with nothing. However, there’s been chatter about another crime organization moving in on the boxing league. This one from Miami. They’ve watched the Newcastle crime family get cut off at the knees, and now they’re trying to stake their claim here.”

  Katie’s stomach churned, and she felt as if she was free falling. She knew nothing about boxing, except for the fact that her event center sometimes hosted title fights. The brief conversations she’d had with Holden about the sport had only begun to scratch the surface of things she didn’t understand.

  She knew even less about organized crime, except what she saw on the news. She had so little time for fun; she had never even seen The Godfather. Who was she to help the FBI investigate a crime at a boxing match?

  Katie could lose her life over this, and what could she possibly have to gain from wearing a wire?

  She asked Gilmore and Mariano that exact question.

  Mariano produced another packet and slid that across the conference table's glass surface into her waiting hands.

  “What is this?” She opened the packet and studied the sheet on the top of a small stack. Katie recognized it as a copy of registration from the Newcastle Land Records Office. Reading further, she realized that piece of property was adjacent to hers, in a no-man’s land of empty warehouses south of what would be Waterview Phase Three. Scanning down the page, she saw that the most recent purchaser of the property was an LLC of Ari Pitts. His name was not on it, but she knew that the company name belonged to him from experience.

  That asshole. He had told her point-blank that this whole area was worthless, and yet, there he was, buying up the property next to her project. Checking the date, she saw the purchase had taken place later the same day she had invited him to partner with her.

  “What is he up to?”

  Mariano cleared her throat. “Keep reading.”

  Flipping through page after page, she realized that Ari had bought up numerous properties in the city's undeveloped or abandoned edge.

  “We believe Councilman Barrett is a silent partner in these purchases. We also realize that we’re asking a lot of you to be an informant,” Gilmore explained. “The money we could offer you in compensation wouldn’t be much of an incentive for someone like you. But, if you help us, these properties could be forfeited, and we could see that they go to you.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You can do that?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Gilmore replied. “As long as we’re not blindsided by any … illegal or unsavory behavior on your part. Do you have anything you would like to disclose before you agree to help us?”

  A sense of civic duty wasn’t enough to entice most people to inform for the government, evidently. Getting her hands on that land would be a massive addition to the company portfolio. What she would do with all of that property, she didn’t know.

  “Disclosures? I don’t think so…wait.” Her stomach lurched. Holden. “I have a…close friendship with someone who boxes in that league. Is that going to be a problem?”

  Without missing a beat, Gilmore shoved a sheet of paper across the desk. “I’ll just need you to write that down and sign this disclosure statement.” Mariano looked at him and back at Katie. “We know. That’s the other reason we asked you. We also know you set up an account for Holden Murphy, one of the boxers controlled by the Miami syndicate, and set up a residence for him. We’re monitoring him as well.”

  Katie recalled the brief comments about whether a transactional sexual relationship was legal or not.

  “There’s nothing…there’s nothing illegal about my relationship with Mr. Murphy. We’re in love, as a matter of fact.” The words felt comfortable saying aloud, even to total strangers like these who made her incredibly nervous.

  Easy, because the words were true.

  Two pairs of brown eyes observed her as if she might reveal something else.

  “Wait, if you’re monitoring him, does that mean you’re listening in at the condo?”

  Gilmore replied, “I can neither answer yes or no to that.”

  Shit. Holden is going to be pissed.

  She didn’t want to think about what was going to happen. On most days, she was fearless. But wearing a wire to help the feds investigate the mob had her terrified.

  She knew Holden would not be consciously involved in anything illegal. Would he?

  “If there is anything illegal about your arrangement with Mr. Murphy, then we’ll make sure your full cooperation with the federal government is acknowledged in the case of any charges.”

  Katie stiffened. “Charges of what?”

  Gilmore looked just slightly sympathetic. “You were seen accompanying him from Crow Bar to the Windmill Motel, a known haven for prostitution.”

  “How long have you been spying on us?”

  Gilmore shook her head. “I can’t answer that.”

  Finally, Katie did what she knew she had to do. “I’ll do it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Katie

  That night, Katie’s nerves were about to jump out of her body.

  A rational person would have retreated to the penthouse. Let the investigation play out.

  But she knew — she knew — Holden was not involved in any corruption. And if he was, it would not be his choice.

  After work, she parked in the underground parking garage and felt as if she were flying to reach him on the top floor.

  The door flew open so hard when she approached it that it thundered against the inside wall of the condo, startling both of them. She hurled herself against him, but not half as forcefully as he wrapped her in his arms.

  Holden’s voice was muffled in her hair. “Baby, I missed you so much. If you don’t move your stuff in here permanently, I’m going to have to fill this place up with cats.”

  “I have to talk to you about the fight,” she sniffled, fearful tears leaking out of her eyes.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice concerned. He led her to the couch and offered her a glass of tea. “What’s going on? You look pale.” He smoothed her hair away from her face.

  “Bad, bad things. I’m freaking out. I’m not supposed to tell you, but I’m freaking out.”

  “Whoa, come here. I know.” He closed his arms around her again, and she let the warmth of his chest calm her breathing.

  “You know?” She looked up at him in astonishment.

  “Yeah. A couple of agents came here this morning, then I got tailed on the way home from training. I put two and two together. I figured they’re probably investigating Junior, or they’re from the Miami outfit. Either way, it’s about time we talk about this.”

  The two of them spent the next couple of hours talking about all of the things they weren’t supposed to say to each other. Him because of the imminent threat of physical violence to his loved ones. And her, because of the ongoing investigation.

  “I guess we’re both in trouble now,” she said. “I’m going to put Mike on the case. He’s going to check into this guy from Miami. And I don’t want any arguments. You need to let this be handled by the professionals. I know you have your pride, but in this scenario, you need some fuck-you money. A lot of fuck-you money, and this is life and death. So let me help. No arguments.”

  Holden didn’t answer. He simply brought her to his bed and held her close as they got ready for sleep that night. “I can control myself if you can.”

  She laughed and nuzzled in close to him. “Darn, I was hoping that abstinence thing in the days before a fight was an old wives tale.”

  He laughed and smoothed her hair, kissed the top of her head, and said, “It kind of is, but boxing is full of superstitions.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, you’re not supposed to eat anything white the day before a fight.”

  She sat up. “What?”

  “Gotcha,” he laughed.

  Katie bit his nipple through his shirt, and he howled in mock pain.

  “One thing you should know. You might put Mike on my tail and have the FBI looking out for me. But I’m going to put the Brute Squad on you.”

  “Oh god,” she said. “What does that mean?”

  “That means they have your back. If you go to the fight, you won't be there alone if you go through with wearing a wire. The guys are going to be there with you, watching you.”

  Katie sighed. “If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  The following Friday, the two FBI agents met with Katie, Holden, and Fr. O’Brien at the Waterview condo a few hours before the fight to go over procedures.

  Although privy to what was going on, Fr. O’Brien made it clear he wasn’t going to get involved in informing on anyone, especially in the neighborhood. He had only provided the agents with the testimony that he had been warned by Junior's two thugs that he was not to train with Holden any longer.

  “I’m the Switzerland of Dockside, for better or for worse. But I’m here to support my former student and friend. He needs to live through this so he can pay it forward to another young boxer someday.”

  Holden looked at Fr. O’Brien. “Pay what forward?”

  “Never mind, I should not have said anything,” Fr. O’Brien said.

  Holden grew agitated. “Yes, you should have. Padre, have you been paying for my boxing lessons all this time?”

  Fr. O’Brien blushed. “Actually, No. It was Sister Roberta.”

  Holden goggled at him. “What?”

  The priest explained. “When your behavior improved at Holy Rosary, Sister Roberta demanded to know why. So I told her. She went straight to the diocese and petitioned that they pay for your lessons, gear, everything.”

  Holden looked from Fr. O’Brien to Katie and back to Fr. O’Brien. “I can’t believe it.”

  Fr. O’Brien laughed. “Believe in the power of a very persistent nun. I had very little to do with it. But, at the moment, I think we have more pertinent matters to address?”

  Holden’s phone rang, but he didn’t answer it.

  “Guess it’s time for you to go,” Katie breathed.

  While the phone continued to buzz, Holden gripped Katie’s face with wrapped hands and robbed her breath with an owning kiss.

  Fr. O’Brien cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose now would be a good time to discuss the premarital counseling.”

  Katie and Holden broke apart and looked at Fr. O’Brien then looked at each other.

  “Soon,” Holden said, not taking his eyes off Katie. He kissed her one more time and was gone.

  Katie’s heart ached to see him go. She didn’t want him out of her sight. She didn’t trust that he was going to go along with the plan.

  After Fr. O’Brien took his leave, Agent Mariano attached the tiny microphone inside Katie’s bra and showed her how to use it, coaching her on the questions to ask to pull confessions out of Councilman Barrett.