As she stepped outside, she ran into Tyler.

  "How's it going?" he asked.

  "Everything is under control. NYPD will take control of the evidence and deliver Jonas's phone, computer, and any other relevant items to us early tomorrow morning."

  "Do we know for sure he was the man in the café?"

  "Yes. As for whether he set off the bomb, there's no definite evidence of that, but I'm sure he was involved."

  "How did you find him?"

  "After I showed Max Malone the sketch, one thing led to another." She told him about the gym, the Crimson Club, and chasing Jonas's killer down the fire escape before losing him, finishing with the car almost running them down in the alley.

  "You've had a busy night," Tyler said, an odd note in his voice. "Where is Malone now?"

  "He left before the police arrived."

  "He didn't want to make an official statement."

  "Well, we were together, so he didn't see anything I didn't see."

  "Are you sure about that?"

  She didn't like the suspicious doubt in his question. "I'm absolutely sure."

  "He didn't have a chance to remove anything from the apartment without your knowledge?"

  She wasn't about to tell him Max had spent time alone in Jonas's bedroom while she'd been on the phone, because she doubted he'd found anything in there, and she was already feeling like she was being interrogated by a man who was supposed to be her equal.

  "Max didn't take anything. Look, I don't know you, Tyler, and you don't know me, so we're going to have to earn each other's trust. But I'm telling you the truth."

  "It's not that I don't trust you, Kara; I don't trust Malone. There's something about that guy that bothers me."

  "Because you saw him in a war zone under another name. I get it. He saw you, too. And he doesn't trust you either. I don't know what happened back then, and I don't care right now. I'm only concerned about the present. Do you want to go upstairs and look around?"

  "I do, but you don't need to come. You've had a long day. Go home, get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

  Tyler didn't wait for a reply as he hurried into the building. Clearly, he wanted to check out the crime scene on his own, and she didn't quite know what to think about that. But she was tired, and there was nothing more for her to do tonight, so she headed to her car, new questions racing through her mind. Jonas Cray seemed like a big lead, but he couldn't tell them anything. Hopefully, something on his phone or computer would.

  Max arrived at Dominic's apartment just before nine on Wednesday morning. Dominic was working from home, and he came out of the kitchen, dressed in workout gear, drinking a green juice, and looking like he'd just finished a workout.

  "I hope this isn't bad news," Dominic said warily. "Because after speaking to Samantha's doctor a few minutes ago, I was feeling hopeful. Then I saw your text that you were coming over."

  "I'm glad to hear Samantha is doing better."

  "I don't know if better is the right word, but she's hanging in there, and if she remains stable, they'll try to bring her out of her coma on Friday or Saturday."

  "That's good news."

  "You're not going to ruin my momentary optimism, are you?" Dominic asked as he motioned for him to have a seat on the couch.

  "There's been a break in the case," he said as he sat down across from Dominic. "The man who spilled coffee on Samantha at the café is dead."

  "What?" Dominic asked in shock. "You found him? And he's dead?"

  "Yes. Let me back up. I saw a sketch of the man and recognized him. Last week, when I dropped Samantha at Forge Fitness, the same guy was standing outside the gym."

  "So, he goes to the gym?"

  "The manager said he didn't recognize him, but one of his employees did. His information led us to the Crimson Club and a stripper who gave me a name and an address. Unfortunately, when we arrived at his apartment, Jonas Cray had his throat slit."

  Dominic sucked in a quick breath. "God!"

  He nodded. "His killer escaped out the window." He was still pissed at himself for not being more aware when they'd entered the apartment, not being faster on the stairs or down the street. But he would find another way to catch him, because he was even more motivated after the near attempt on his own life and on Kara's.

  "So, what happens next?" Dominic asked. "Who do you think killed him?"

  "Someone who didn't want him to talk. Does his name ring a bell?"

  Dominic shook his head. "I've never heard that name before."

  "Well, the FBI will find out everything they can about him, and I'm going to do the same. "

  "You gave this information to the FBI?"

  "I was with the FBI agent, Kara Reid, when she found the body."

  "Wait. You were with her? Why?"

  "She showed me the sketch. Since I was in the café that morning, she thought I might recognize him, and I did. Getting back to Forge Fitness, I know your trainer works there."

  "He does, but he always trains me here, in my personal gym."

  "Have you ever met the manager, Elias Costa?"

  "No. I've never actually been to Forge Fitness. Samantha recommended Mitch, and she had his number, so I spoke directly to him."

  "But the manager knew Mitch was working for you."

  "It wasn't a secret."

  "Why didn't Samantha work out here with you? In your private fitness center?"

  "She had a membership there long before I met her. She enjoyed the classes more than just lifting weights and using cardio equipment."

  "Did she ever mention Costa or Jonas to you?"

  "No. What are you trying to get me to say?" Dominic asked with annoyance.

  "Nothing. I'm just trying to connect the dots. Jonas was at the gym at the same time as Samantha. That's not a coincidence."

  "Do you think he was stalking her? It sounds like the bombing was targeted to her and not because of her relationship with me?"

  "I'm not sure we can make that assumption," he replied, seeing the eager light in Dominic's eyes to do exactly that. "She could have been targeted because of you, and you both have a connection to Forge Fitness. Elias Costa runs high-stakes poker games out of the club. Have you heard about those?"

  "No."

  "Mitch never mentioned it?"

  Dominic shook his head. "I said no, Max."

  "What about the Crimson Club? It's a strip club, owned by two brothers from Belarus, Alex and Sergei Novik."

  Dominic's expression shifted with surprise. "Sergei Novik? I didn't realize he owned a strip club here in New York."

  "But you know him?"

  "Yes. We've been both rivals and partners in various projects."

  Max wasn't thrilled to find a connection between Dominic and Novik. "You said rivals. Would he have a problem with you?"

  "He's won a few bids over me; I've won a few over him. And sometimes we've been part of a joint investment group. There's no way he's involved in what happened to Samantha."

  "No way? The man who spilled coffee on her was a frequent customer at Novik's strip club."

  "Sergei has never mentioned anything to me about owning a strip club, but he has told me that his brother Alex always needs his money and his help. And he's been supporting him his entire life. He probably bought the club to give Alex a job. You should look into Alex."

  "I'll look into both of them. I have to say I don't like the connection between you and Sergei, and I guarantee the FBI will dig into it."

  "They won't find anything." Dominic stood up, pacing around the room as he ran a worried hand through his hair. "None of this makes sense, Max. If the bombing was about getting to me, where's the message? Where's the demand for cash? For power or access? What do they want?"

  "Maybe they're not after money or leverage. It could be about revenge. You hurt someone; they want to hurt you back. Have you pissed anyone off lately?"

  "I probably do that daily," Dominic said candidly, with little regret in his eyes. "You don't get to where I am without making waves."

  He stared at the man who had once been a teenage friend, someone who had been born into wealth but had then become determined to quadruple that wealth, using whatever means necessary. He didn't know what lines Dominic had crossed to get to this penthouse apartment, to his globally big life, and that was the problem.

  "Maybe you should come up with some names for me to look into," he said. "People you compete with. People you beat. People who wanted something from you and didn't get it."

  "That would be a very long list."

  "What about your team? What if we focus on your top-level executives? You told me when you first hired me, you were concerned someone in your inner circle had leaked your security plans in Dushanbe."

  Dominic's lips twisted into a frown. "I am still concerned about that, but to blow up a café with not only Samantha in it, but a lot of other people…that seems unbelievable." Dominic paused. "Why don't you come to dinner tonight? My top three executives will be there along with investors I have done business with in the past. Maybe someone will reveal something to you I haven't been able to see."

  "I could do that."

  "But don't come as security. Let's make it look friendlier. Some of my team know you're working for me, but that you're also an old friend. Why don't you bring a woman with you? Maybe Kai could come."

  "I guess I could ask her," he said, not thrilled about attending a dinner party that would probably yield few to no results. But if there was someone on Dominic's executive team who wanted to take him down or ruin his life, it would be good to get to know them all better.

  "Cocktails are at six thirty. Dinner is at seven thirty. You can tell people you work security for me, but don't scare off my investors. Reassure them that Tajikistan is the best place in the world to invest their money."

  "I'm not a salesman," he said dryly. "That's on you. But I will be discreet. In the meantime, I'm going to see what else I can find out about Jonas Cray and his possible employers. Because he was hired to spill that coffee. There is no doubt in my mind about that. And whoever hired him for that job probably also killed him.

  Chapter Seven

  The Crimson Club was closed until five, and Elias Costa at Forge Fitness was taking a sick day on Wednesday, which had made Kara's two stops on her way to work completely pointless.

  After a morning debrief with the team, she dug into Jonas Cray's life, which was completely unimpressive. A high school dropout, Jonas had joined the Army at eighteen but received a bad conduct discharge before his twenty-second birthday. His employment after leaving the service had been spotty. He'd worked as a bartender, a bouncer, a parking valet, and a handyman. But there was no evidentiary connection between Jonas and Elias Costa or Jonas and Alex or Sergei Novik. No transfers into his bank account, no emails, nothing…

  Jonas had been caught on camera entering and exiting the Crimson Club several times a day and also going into Forge Fitness, which certainly made Elias Costa's claim that he'd never seen him before a flat-out lie. But that wasn't proof of anything. They needed more.

  Her team, especially Alina and Zane, who had embedded themselves in the dark web over the past year had been haunting online forums for chatter about the bomb or the victims, but so far nothing had come up.

  By four o'clock in the afternoon, she was tired and hungry, so she headed into the break room for coffee and a snack. She grabbed a banana first, then moved to the coffeemaker to pour herself a cup.

  Alina Volkov came in a moment later, giving her a smile. "I need one of those, too."

  She slid the mug across the counter to Alina. "Take this one. I'll get another."

  "Thanks." Alina took a sip and let out a sigh. "I needed this."

  She smiled and took her mug to the kitchen table. "Me, too. How's it going?"

  "Not great. I feel like I need a shower after reading the posts in the last forum of sickos. What about you?"

  "Nothing yet. Jonas Cray seems like the perfect guy to hire to do a dirty job, but I can't link him specifically to someone targeting Samantha. By the way, did you get an update on Samantha's condition?"

  "Just a few minutes ago," Alina replied. "She's stable but critical. Samantha's sister has been there all day. Dominic Ashford also spent about thirty minutes with her. No sign of trouble at the hospital. Ashford has security outside her room."

  "I'm glad Samantha is hanging in there." She peeled her banana and took a bite.

  "The hospital released the other two victims today," Alina added. "That there have been no fatalities is very fortunate."

  "So far, anyway. Samantha still needs to survive."

  Alina sipped her coffee as she nodded in agreement. "Hopefully, she will. So, what's the story with the ex-CIA agent who keeps showing up in this middle of this case." Alina asked curiously. "Tyler doesn't seem to be a fan."

  "Apparently, they met overseas when Tyler was in Delta and Max was in the CIA, but no one will talk about that. They're just very distrustful of each other. But Max is helpful to me, because he's tied into Ashford and Samantha Barkley. He has access to their world which we don't have."

  "That makes sense. Do you know why he left the CIA?"

  "He said he needed a change," she said dryly. "He's not big on answering questions. And, honestly, he could still be CIA; I have no idea."

  Alina smiled. "That sounds about right. I've never found anyone in the agency to be helpful."

  "Well, he's the least of my concerns." She took a bite of her banana, chased it down with coffee, and then said, "I keep asking myself why anyone would choose to blow up a café just to kill one person? I know murder doesn't always make sense, but my logical brain wants to find an answer."

  "We'll find the answer," Alina said confidently. "We won't stop until we do."

  "We won't," she agreed. "I don't give up."

  "Neither do I. A quality instilled in me when I was a child," Alina added. "You don't quit, and when you lose, you learn."

  "That's a good philosophy."

  "I'll tell my father you said that. He likes to believe that even though I didn't follow his dream, I got something out of it."

  "What was his dream?" she asked curiously.

  "My parents brought me here from Russia when I was four and my younger sister was two. They decided we were going to be professional tennis players. They sacrificed a lot to get us into the top camps, and I was pretty good, better than my sister, who didn't like the heat and didn't like to run and just hated to compete. But I loved the fight."

  "How long did you compete? Did you play professionally?"

  "You don't want to hear this."

  "I really do. Tell me." She was more than a little curious to know more about her new team.

  "I won the US Nationals when I was seventeen and got to play at the US Open. I made it through the qualifying and into the second round before I lost. I was on my way. I had a full ride to Stanford University. But in my first year at school, I went on a ski trip, and I fell down the mountain and broke my leg in two places. I also injured my wrist and a couple of ribs. It was a nasty accident."

  "That sounds awful."

  "I had to have multiple surgeries, and my tennis career was put on a long hold. When I tried to come back two years later, I wasn't the same, not physically or mentally. Having that time away, to not think about being my parents' hope for a better life, I started to have fun. I made new friends. I got a boyfriend. I realized how narrow my life had been. And I didn't want that life anymore."

  "Were your parents crushed?"

  "They were sad. But our relationship actually improved when I wasn't just thinking of my dad as my coach, when he wasn't telling me how to hit a backhand or what to do against a wide serve. It was like we started to just be a normal family, and eventually, after a brutal string of lessons, my father took my racquets away one day and said he was going to keep them until I said I wanted them back. And if I never said that, it would be okay."

  "And you never said that?"

  She shook her head. "I didn't. It wasn't what I wanted anymore. I wanted to be an FBI agent, and that's what I did." She laughed. "I don't know why I told you all that."

  "I'm glad you did. I enjoy having tough competitors on my team, people who like to win, because I definitely want to win."

  "You'll have to tell me your story sometime, Kara."

  "I will, but now I'd better get back to work."

  As she reentered the bullpen, she was surprised to see Jason and Tyler standing by her desk, deep in conversation.

  "What's going on?" she asked.

  "The police have a witness who claims he saw someone go into Jonas Cray's apartment," Jason replied. "He's a food delivery guy who dropped off an order to the apartment down the hall from Cray's."

  "Where is he now?"

  "Currently doing food deliveries, but he said he will meet you between drops. I've asked Kate to send you his number," Jason said, referring to his admin. "His name is Omar Radishka, and he's working the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood today. He says he delivers food to that building all the time."

  "That's great." She looked at Tyler. "Are you coming?"

  "Not if you don't need me. I've found a link on Sergei Novik to Dominic Ashford that I'd like to explore."

  "What's the link?"

  "In addition to the Crimson Club, Sergei owns an international construction and engineering firm. That firm has gone up against Dominic Ashford twice in the past year, including a project in Tajikistan that Dominic won. That links Novik to Dominic Ashford, Samantha Barkley, and Jonas Cray."

  "It certainly does," she said with excitement. "Keep going. I'll check in with you later."

  She grabbed her bag and headed down to the garage to get her car, feeling more optimistic than she had been. They had a possible witness to Cray's killer and a link between Dominic and Novik, a person who would certainly have the money and power to hire someone to make a bomb and blow up a café with the girlfriend of one of his competitors in it.