"Well, it's not like I want you to be unhappy."

  "You really never had a relationship that lasted long enough to meet the parents?"

  "There was one girl back in college. She took me home for Christmas vacation because my parents were out of the country. Her family was nice, but very proper. Everything was perfect. The food was impeccable, but no one talked to each other, and it felt so awkward. I didn't grow up in a family like yours, but my parents could banter. They were intellectually challenging to each other. They'd argue about some random fact in history that no one else would even know for an hour straight before they'd finally laugh and call it a draw."

  She gave him a quick look. "That's the first thing you've said about them."

  He shrugged. "It's not like we've had a lot of time to share stories."

  "It sounds like they were in love."

  "I think they were," he said. "My father was broken up when my mom died. It was the first time I realized she was the rock in the family. He had the strength, the big laugh, the firm voice, but she was the one who kept us steady."

  "Do you still see your dad?"

  "Not very much, maybe once a year."

  "Why so rarely?"

  "He lives in Bath, as I mentioned. And I've spent a lot of time in other parts of the world."

  "Is he remarried?"

  "No, but I noticed he has a female friend who seems to spend time with him. We don't have the kind of relationship where I would ask him outright, or he would ask me, for that matter. Not like your mother and aunt, who are very nosy."

  "I told you they would be."

  "You weren't kidding. Where was your brother tonight?"

  "Working. Hayden is a second-year resident at St. Mary's. He works long shifts. He would not have been nearly as nosy as my mom if he had come. He's more private, and that's why we get along. He doesn't ask me a lot of questions, and I return the favor."

  "Well, I think your family is great. And not just the family, all the friends. You're part of a community. It's very cool."

  "I think so," she agreed. "Sometimes I find the personal questions annoying, but I know they come from a good place. Anyway, that's enough family talk. I need to refocus. I want to dig into Wexler Properties when I get home and also renew my memory of that tower fire. I worked that day, and it was a significant event, but I don't remember the details."

  "The details may not matter. There's no tie between Wexler and the café, as you told your uncle. The tower fire could mean nothing. The connection is between James Cooper and Samantha Barkley."

  "Dominic also had a working relationship with Cooper. Every time we turn a corner, we run into Dominic's connections. Have you noticed that?"

  "He has a vast network. I still think he's innocent, though."

  "I hope you're right. How's Samantha doing? My last update was early this morning, and they hadn't taken her off the breathing tubes yet."

  "They postponed until tomorrow. They don't think she's stable enough."

  "How is Dominic handling it all?"

  "He's been to the hospital just about every day, checks in on her for a few minutes, and then goes back to work."

  "But he's not sitting by her bedside for hours on end."

  "He doesn't have hours on end. His schedule is packed. And to be fair, he and Samantha have only been dating for a few months. I think he cares about her, but I don't know how deep their relationship is."

  "I sometimes wonder why she was dating him," Kara murmured. "She's not his type; he's not her type. I wonder if she had a hidden agenda, like maybe she suspected he was involved in something illegal."

  "Maybe. Who knows? Their relationship doesn't make sense, but sometimes the best ones don't make sense."

  "That's true. Sometimes you catch feelings when you shouldn't."

  He wondered if she was talking about her feelings about someone in particular…maybe even him. There was a spark between them. And they had connected on a much more personal level now. But he was the wrong man for her, and she was the wrong woman for him. At least right now. Maybe one day when he'd accomplished his mission, when he'd vanquished his demons, maybe then…or maybe not. Because who knew if that would ever happen.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kara knew she should take Max home instead of to her apartment, but he wanted to work on the case together, and she was tired of living in her own head. He might also have insight that she didn't have. He might not be FBI, but he was well-trained in intelligence gathering, and she trusted him to be honest about what made sense and what didn't. It felt a little wrong that she wanted to work with him more than with her own team, but after what had happened at the safe house, she needed to keep things tight.

  Tyler's words still rang through her head. He'd pointed out that Max had known the address of the safe house. He'd been there with her. He'd seen the agents, knew how many they were, and how they were positioned. She couldn't deny that he'd actually had more information than her own team, although there were many people at 26 Fed who would have known that address and that protocol.

  She just had to go with her gut, and for now, her instincts were telling her that Max was on the right side. Until they told her otherwise, she was going to go with that belief.

  Her apartment was just as she'd left it, including the pillow and blanket that Max had used the night before when he'd slept on her couch.

  She moved over to her dining table and opened her laptop computer while Max sat down across from her, pulling out his phone. "What are you searching for?"

  "Information on Wexler Properties and the Meridien Tower. You?"

  "Same, but I'm also going to finish my search through Samantha's case files. I've already gone through five years, but maybe there's something further back, something to do with Meridien Tower."

  For the next half hour, they worked in comfortable silence. It didn't feel nearly as boring knowing Max was trying to help her find the answers she desperately needed.

  Finally, she found the case she was looking for. "Here we go," she said. "Seven years ago, Samantha prosecuted a case against Redstone Technologies, a company that made smart systems for high-rise buildings. But that system failed in the Meridien Tower, resulting in an explosion on the nineteenth floor and a fire that killed six people and injured seven others." Her gaze skimmed the cover page. "The Meridien Tower was owned by Wexler Properties."

  "What happened? Did anyone go to jail?" Max asked.

  She shook her head. "No. The defendants made plea deals, and a civil case resulted in a significant cash settlement to the affected families."

  "But no one was actually punished."

  She lifted her gaze to his. "No, they weren't punished. And the city Building Department was named in the civil suit as well."

  "Let me guess, the inspector was James Cooper."

  "Yes, but according to the city's defensive statement, the building was up to code, and they had no way of knowing that the smart system would fail, as it was a new technology and had met all the requirements." She thought for a moment, seeing the wheels turning in Max's gaze as well. "Samantha let the case drop. James Cooper might have approved something that wasn't quite right."

  "And someone has been looking for justice for a long time."

  "Not justice anymore—revenge. That's what this is about. That's why the strikes are targeted, with minimal collateral damage."

  "But an explosion," he continued. "Just like the one that killed those people. Who were the deceased?"

  She turned back to her computer and pulled up the list of names. "Lauren Canejo, age sixty-one, homemaker, Ron Canejo, age sixty-three, software engineer, Angie Palmeri, age forty-three, tax accountant, Harry Faulkner, age thirty-nine, manager of the Franklin Art Gallery, and…" Her voice caught in her throat. "Tori Hartford, age thirty-six, a homemaker, and her six-year-old daughter, Ariel. They were survived by David Hartford, age thirty-seven, a venture capitalist."

  "Hartford?" Max questioned as she met his gaze. "As in Dominic's friend?"

  She nodded. "I had no idea he was a widower, that he'd lost his wife and child, but it makes sense. He had a sadness about him. But he couldn't be behind this. He seemed like such a meek and mild-mannered man."

  "One who has money to buy whatever he wants. What about the other surviving family members?"

  She glanced back at the page. "The Canejos had an adult daughter, Alexa, twenty-three. Both Palmeri and Faulkner were single but had parents and siblings."

  "Here's some more detail," Max said, interrupting her. "This is from a follow-up article on the lawsuit, which was brought by the named survivors: Alexa Canejo, Palmeri's father, Joseph Palmeri, and Faulkner's father, Wilson Faulkner, also David Hartford." He paused. "I know Wilson Faulkner, too. He plays golf with Dominic. He's an investment banker."

  "Any of them could want revenge. Maybe all of them."

  "I'm betting the settlement was extremely substantial. This wasn't about money."

  "No, I don't think it was. And the fact that two of the survivors have plenty of cash doesn't mean they don't want revenge. They also have the money to finance it. What's Faulkner like?"

  "Loud, likes to name-drop and brag about his bank account."

  "And Hartford is the opposite." She frowned. "I hope it's not him, because he seemed nice when I met him." She held up a hand. "And you don't need to remind me that a lot of killers seem nice, which is how they disarm you."

  "Exactly."

  She thought for a moment. "Okay, we've narrowed things down to the tower explosion, to the victims and their survivors. Let's focus on the targets."

  "Samantha dropped the ball, let the defendant plead out," he said. "Cooper signed off on the project."

  "Redstone Technologies," she muttered, glancing back at the file. "The owner is Mason Redstone. At the time of the explosion, he was forty-four years old and living in Tribeca."

  "He's fifty-one now, still in Tribeca," Max said, keeping up with her search on the Internet. "His company changed its name to RK Sensor Solutions several months after the settlement."

  "And then there's Stan Wexler, the owner of Wexler Properties. We haven't been able to talk to him yet. But since one of his buildings was blown up, he is probably no longer a target. Who else?" An odd expression moved through his gaze. "What are you thinking?"

  "There's a conference at the Nexus Forum in Hudson Yards on Tuesday. It's called The Future of World Cities. The focus is infrastructure, capital, and politics all in one place, and Dominic is one of the featured speakers. Wexler Properties and some of the other targets might also be involved."

  She opened a new window to search for the conference, and it popped up immediately, the list of speakers and attendees ranging from local to state and world leaders, as well as private equity firms, builders, and technology companies. "This will be a target-rich environment."

  "With a great deal of security," he reminded her. "And so far, the strikes have been surgical in nature. An attack on the summit would be completely different."

  "Wexler is attending. Redstone is as well. I'm betting Hartford and Faulkner will be there, too. This sounds like the climax."

  He nodded, his expression serious. "It could be. At least it's a few days away. We have a little time."

  "Three days. That's not much. And what if we haven't reached the climax yet? What if someone else, some lower-level participant needs to go down first, someone who won't be at the summit?"

  "Good point. Let's see if we can find someone considered culpable but who wouldn't be at the summit. They could be the next target."

  They spent another half hour trying to find out everything they could about the tower fire. "There are several possibilities," she murmured. "It depends on who someone would find the most responsible. There was an architect and several different contractors in addition to Redstone Technologies involved with the building of the tower. There was the smart system installation team, too. And then you could look at the DA's office. Samantha wasn't the only attorney involved. A judge signed off on the plea deal," she said, her fingers flying across the keyboard. "Judge Michael Androni. He wouldn't be at the conference on Tuesday. If someone wanted to get to him, they'd have to find him at home or at the courthouse." She paused, looking at Max. "Obviously, I don't know if he's next, but he could be."

  "There are a lot of people who could be next," he said, fighting off a yawn. "It's almost midnight. I think we should call it a day, because the calendar is going to turn in three minutes."

  "I can't believe it's that late," she murmured, having lost all track of time.

  "You definitely know how to go all in on something," he said with a smile.

  "Which is why I'm still single."

  "If I leave, you're not going to stop working, are you?"

  "I might just do a little more," she said honestly. "But you should go home. I'm sure you didn't sleep that well on my couch last night."

  "Actually, I slept fine." He took a breath. "In fact, I was thinking I might try the couch again."

  "You don't have to stay here and watch over me, Max. I'm a federal agent. I'm armed. I'm good."

  "I know. But I'm tired, and it's cold outside, and I'll have to get a cab or a ride… Can I buy another night on the couch?"

  "Well, you don't have to buy it. I owe you for putting up with my family, so if you really want to stay, you can stay." She wasn't sure that was the best decision, but she also didn't really want him to leave.

  "Then I'll stay." He got up from the table, walked over to the couch, and sat down.

  "Are you going to sleep now?" she asked. "I can take my computer into my bedroom."

  "I think you should close the computer and come sit over here."

  She gave him a wary look. "Why would I do that?"

  He laughed. "You're very suspicious, Kara."

  "And you're giving off shady vibes again."

  "I just want to talk to you. We're both wired with too much information right now. Sleep won't come easy. Let's try to calm our brains down by discussing something else."

  He had a point. She was so tired, the names were starting to blur in her mind.

  He patted the couch next to him. "Come. Sit."

  After a moment, she joined him on the couch, careful to keep a good foot between them. As he kicked off his shoes and propped his feet up on the coffee table, she took off her shoes and pulled her legs up under her as she faced him on the sofa. "What shall we talk about? Your time in the CIA? Qadir? I'm interested in both those subjects."

  "We're done with shoptalk," he said firmly. "Tell me what you like to do for fun."

  "I mostly work."

  "Try harder, Kara."

  She let out a sigh. "Well, I work out because I need to stay fit."

  "That sounds like it's related to your job."

  "You're being very picky, Max."

  "It's not a hard question."

  She thought for a moment. "I like to bicycle through Central Park. The Lake is one of my favorite spots. There are a bunch of flat rocks to sit on, and when you look out over the lake, you can see the city reflected in the shimmering water. It's really pretty and peaceful. It makes the city feel less chaotic. Not that I don't love the chaos. There's an energy here that I've never felt anywhere else. I know it makes people cranky at times. That's why New Yorkers can sometimes seem rude, but this city is filled with passion. People come from all over the world to chase their dreams. I love the art scene and off-Broadway. I love going to shows in the smaller theaters where beginning playwrights are putting on their first plays. Some of them are bad. But some are brilliant, and you're right there watching someone's career take off." She paused. "I am rambling."

  "I liked the ramble. And I think you described the city exactly right."

  "It's my home," she said simply. "Where do you think of as home?"

  "There's no one place. I don't have a family home in my mind when I think of Christmas or some other holiday. I have places I remember, houses I liked, but I always felt like I was just a guest. I never had roots. Not like you. Yours go deep. I saw that tonight at your family party. It made me a little jealous."

  "Really?" she said with surprise.

  "My family is small, even smaller now that my mom is gone."

  "How did she die?"

  "Cancer. She worked through most of it. She loved her job, her posts with the State Department. She taught me to love the world. Actually, she taught me to love the people in the world, and to protect the innocent whenever I could."

  "She sounds inspiring."

  "A little like your mom, actually," he said with a warm gleam in his eyes. "My mother wasn't a teacher, but she was passionate about helping others."

  "My mom is passionate about a lot of things. Teaching, gardening, baking…"

  "Her daughter," he added with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

  "She's always wanted the best for me. I think because she had to raise my brother and me on her own, she felt like she had to be everything, and she was. And when she wasn't, everyone else stepped in. I missed my dad horribly. But I did have a village raising me. And I didn't always like having everyone in my business."

  "That's how they show their love."

  "That's what they tell me. Were your parents in your business? Did they like that you went into the CIA?"

  "They taught me to make my own decisions, and they supported most of them, including my stint in the CIA. But we weren't a super close family. We didn't call each other all the time. We weren't hugging each other every time we got together."

  She saw the humor in his eyes. "We are a hugging family. But I don't hug as much as everyone else, except when I'm with them."

  "Because it doesn't fit the tough, determined mask you like to wear?"

  "You have no idea what it's like to be a female cop and then a female FBI agent. If I'm not tough, I get walked over. I can't let that happen."

  "I understand. Obviously, I've never been in your position, but I've seen women at the agency face the same challenges. For what it's worth, I've found female agents to be extremely good at their jobs."

  "It's possible I overcompensate at times. Probably more so since I upended my career by telling the truth. I've felt pretty judged since then."