My receptionist appeared in the doorway. “So,” she drawled. “Is it big?”

  “Linda!”

  She giggled. “Harry’s⁠—”

  “I do not want to hear about Harry’s extremities,” I cut in. “And I’m not going to talk about JD’s.”

  “So you have seen it!” Linda bubbled.

  “Have you started a pot of coffee?” I asked, scrambling to redirect her.

  “I’ll get you a cup.” Linda chuckled and ambled away from my office. She had her phone out, probably texting my mother. I imagined a group chat with my mother’s close friends that they’d named Tatiana’s Love Life.

  If only older women’s interest in who I was or was not having sex with was my biggest problem.

  A message appeared on my phone lock screen from my mother. Thankfully, it had nothing to do with bedroom activities, though JD was mentioned.

  Are you going to ask Marcus to join us for Christmas day dinner?

  It was a rhetorical question. What she meant was when are you going to ask Marcus to join us for Christmas day dinner? JD had been to my mom’s house for a nice dinner a while ago, then the recent Christmas party. As far as I knew, he didn’t have family to spend holidays with.

  After our weekend together, it felt natural to invite him to something like this. On the other hand, we hadn’t discussed our relationship standing. For all I knew, JD’s feelings might have changed now that we’d gotten the physical act out of our systems.

  Was that possible? How many times would it take before either of us had enough? Linda’s comment about men getting bored didn’t seem to apply here. JD had taken his slow, sweet time, savoring every moment. My cheeks flamed at the thought.

  I decided to answer my mother’s text later and put my phone screen-down on the desk. As I did, Linda returned with my coffee and placed it beside my mouse. “Oh, I almost forgot. You and Marcus were in the news!”

  I’d gotten the coffee halfway to my lips. “What?”

  Linda scrolled through her phone. “Ah, here it is.” She turned it to show me the screen. The article’s headline read D.C.’s New Power Couple is Taking On Crime, One Theft At a Time.

  Below were two photos. The first was a blurry image of our backs as we headed inside the National Gallery, the day we’d arrived with press swarming outside. The second was from last night. In it, JD had drawn me to his side, hand around my waist.

  I took Linda’s phone and scanned the article.

  Last week, Tatiana Sterling and Marcus Smith, of Sterling and Smith Security Solutions tracked down the stolen Washington sword and returned it to the National Gallery. The identity of the criminals responsible for the theft is still unknown, but everyone is wondering who this hot new power couple is.

  If not for JD posing as my husband, the words “power couple” might not have been used though anyone with eyeballs couldn’t deny JD was “hot.”

  As I continued reading, my mouth fell open.

  Members of the National Gallery’s board hired Sterling and Smith based on their reputation with high profile cases and their quick solve rates. In a press release from the board, newly appointed chairman Richard Wentworth declared that hiring Sterling and Smith was “the best possible solution,” but that the police are handling the case from here.

  “Wentworth? He was against hiring us from the beginning!” He’d been nothing but rude to Roxanne and had treated me like a fresh graduate from the police academy.

  Linda shrugged. “Maybe he’s backpedaling now. Wants to look good.”

  Or maybe Victor Hume had something to do with it. This had his dirty fingers all over it. His way of pushing JD and me into the spotlight, a distraction while he made his next move.

  Wentworth was in Victor’s back pocket. I didn’t have proof yet, but I felt certain.

  “It may be time to talk to this board chairman and see what he’s really up to,” I murmured. I grabbed my phone and texted Roxanne, asking if she could give me Wentworth’s number as Linda returned to her desk.

  After I sent the text, a call came through the main line, which Linda directed to me. “Sterling and Smith Security Solutions,” I answered.

  “Tatiana,” a deep voice drawled.

  I didn’t bother restraining a sigh. “Dan, what do you want?” It was too early to deal with his bullshit.

  He chuckled. “I thought you were smarter than this. The whole playing up a romance to rake in the cash? If you think acting like you’re in love with your so-called business partner will bring in more clients, you’re showing how green you actually are.”

  “I’m not playing up a romance—” I cut myself off.

  Dan whistled. “So it’s real, huh? I thought you had better sense than that. Everybody knows you’re not supposed to become romantically involved with a business associate. Or maybe this was always your plan, since he is an escort.”

  Dan was the type of person who would sleep with his secretary to the surprise of exactly no one.

  “Why are you calling, Dan? To gloat? How did you even know…”

  Realization dawned on me. Our photo was taken last night because someone tipped off the press about us. Maybe Wentworth mentioned something at Victor’s prodding, but the photo was different.

  “Dan, why are you pushing us out to the press?”

  No answer came, and I realized he’d hung up.

  Had Victor gotten to Dan, too? What was Victor’s goal in shoving me into the spotlight? If the public found out my business partner was an actor with no real security experience, my reputation would be tarnished. I cursed under my breath. This was exactly what Dan O’Shay wanted, and maybe Victor had found that out.

  JD was already squirrely about his past. He wouldn’t like this.

  My phone rang again, and I answered. “I hope your morning is going better than mine, Molina.”

  “I wanted to see if you were in the office. I unearthed something about Victor, thanks to the info you passed on the other night.”

  I leaned forward, eager. “Spill.”

  “It’s better if we meet in person. I’ll swing by your office soon.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  TATIANA

  Jake arrived within the hour, a brown paper bag of breakfast burritos in hand. I insisted on paying him back, since he was doing me a huge solid with this case and wasn’t even on the payroll, but he refused. “Next time I’m in the mood for a burger, I’ll call you.”

  We settled into my office with Jake taking the seat JD usually occupied these days. The sausage, egg, and cheese burrito tasted nothing short of heavenly. I chowed down while Jake shared what he’d learned.

  “I knew the name Victor Hume sounded familiar. Last night, it dawned on me that I know a guy who used to work for him. A man named Winston. Worked in IT at Hume’s Starlight company out in Seattle. Winston was a buddy of mine at WestPoint and went into tech after completing service.”

  Jake shifted his position, then continued. “He was never close to Hume himself, but word around the rumor mill was that shortly after the death of Hume’s father seven years ago, Hume became obsessed with technology that could ‘contain’ what he calls anomalies. Also known as humans with…err, extra abilities.”

  So far, this was lining up with what Lola Park shared.

  “Apparently, Hume spent his entire inheritance on testing one individual he called an anomaly. Elliot Browning was a college grad interested in bioscience engineering and technology. Hume lured him in via an internship, or so some of his former employees said.”

  Jake paused to take a bite of his burrito. “Browning took the offer, of course. It was the best one on the table. You’d have to be an idiot to pass it up. He left three years later with serious PTSD, and anytime someone brings up Hume or Starlight to him, he shuts down. He’s refused to talk about what happened to him there.”

  Jake scooted forward and lowered his voice. “Winston told me that whatever they were doing with Elliot in the lab was top secret. Only certain people were permitted entry, and they signed all sorts of paperwork. Winston got in touch with Elliot’s sister, and she claimed Elliot wasn’t working in the lab. He was being worked on.”

  I set the remaining half of my burrito on the desk, my stomach turning. “Because he has extra abilities?”

  Jake sat back, brows furrowing. “Elliot’s sister said he was stronger and faster than most guys, but she didn’t think anything of it for a long time. Elliot ran track in high school and beat every record in the region. He could have made a career of it but wanted to go into bioscience instead. Makes sense now, considering what he was trying to find out about himself.”

  I stared at Jake. “Which is what, exactly?”

  “They say he’s a shifter.” Jake sat back, crossing his arms. “Something canine.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Like werewolves. He might not be that, but…”

  “Jake, hold on. What you’re saying is impossible.”

  Jake shook his head. “We’ve both seen some weird shit in our day. Maybe you haven’t seen one, but I have.”

  “A shifter?”

  Jake nodded. “Once, when I was in the field. A guy who…” He trailed off and shook his head. “You’re logical, Tatiana. You won’t believe this stuff.”

  “Try me.”

  “He got bigger, grew fur and claws. Teeth that were longer and sharper than any human’s should be. Whole thing scared the shit out of me. I thought I was seeing things at the time, but I wasn’t under the influence of anything reality-distorting.”

  I sat back, baffled. This sounded like something from a movie, not real life. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but Jake was never one to bullshit me.

  He leaned closer, lacing his fingers together. “That’s what I’ve seen, and I’ve heard stories from others. Men and women who live unusually long lives or seem to appear with different names and personas every few decades.”

  My mind reeled. It wasn’t like Jake to be conspiratorial.

  I couldn’t help but see the connections despite my doubt. Winston’s story lined up with Lola’s. What did this have to do with the stolen art, though? The sword made sense, but the other pieces didn’t. Unless it was Victor’s way of funding his research. His work wasn’t likely to receive grants, and according to Mrs. Wellington, he’d spent his inheritance.

  Why was someone connected to JD targeted? And what about the weird threats he’d made toward me?

  “There’s a lot more to this than meets the eye,” Jake murmured, weighing my shifting expression but not pushing me to express my thoughts. He finished his breakfast and stood. “I should be going, but I’ll keep looking into the matter.”

  He was at the door, hand on the knob, when he turned back. “Tatiana.”

  He rarely called me by my first name. When we were in the military, we’d always used last names. “Molina and Sterling” was almost as cool-sounding as “Sterling and Smith.”

  His face creased with worry. “You should be careful, and not only with Hume. The fact that you know so little about this partner of yours concerns me. Especially since I can’t seem to find anything legit on him.”

  He’d raised valid concerns about JD. Still, how did I feel deep in my bones I could trust JD with my life? If it was really an act, or he was truly a malicious person who meant me harm, he deserved every Oscar that ever existed.

  I nodded. “I’ll be careful, Jake. Thank you for everything.”

  With one curt nod, he was gone.

  In the silence of my office, I sat in deep, contemplative thought. I wanted to discuss everything with JD, push for the answers he’d held back from me. How much further could I go without crossing his boundaries?

  He had a way of connecting things I missed. He had asked for the day off, though. To do whatever it was he did on his days off. He’d joked about bubble baths, calamari, and heaps of books to catch up on.

  Instead of calling him, I checked my messages and found a reply from Roxanne with Wentworth’s office phone number. However, I decided not to call the board chairman.

  I would visit him in person instead.

  I breezed past the receptionist and into Richard “Dick” Wentworth’s downtown D.C. office, which happened to be a few streets from the building I worked in. The man was pacing behind his desk, face set in deep concentration as someone spoke to him on the phone. At the sight of me striding into his sanctum, he halted and muttered, “Pete, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

  I surveyed his office. Oak desk, thick burgundy curtains, a decanter full of scotch sitting on the desk, and ornately framed oil paintings of various locations along the Atlantic coast. The building itself left much to be desired, especially its rundown exterior. However, Wentworth, had spared no expense for his own opulence.

  “Remember me?” I greeted.

  Wentworth scowled. “What do you want? The case is over. We don’t need your help anymore.”

  I pasted on a smile, choosing professionalism over bringing out the claws. “You were kind enough to mention my firm to the press. I wanted to come by and thank you. As for the case, I think it’s far from over. The sword may have been recovered, but the thieves are still at large.”

  Wentworth settled behind his desk, one knee bouncing in agitation. “The police are handling it.”

  My smile turned sweeter. “I’m sure they are.” I strode to the window, making Wentworth balk, and gazed out over the skyline. The gray sky gradually darkened, the buildings lit like diamonds across the horizon. It had been a pale, cold day. “Though the police would have an easier time of it if they knew Victor Hume had arranged for the sword to be taken from the museum.”

  I turned to find Wentworth’s jaw hanging open as his face reddened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied crisply. He straightened his tie, then reached for a tissue and blew his nose, wiping it far longer than necessary.

  “Come now, Mr. Wentworth. I think you do know something, and it has everything to do with Lola Park.”

  He flushed deeper and refused to meet my gaze.

  I skirted the desk and plopped into an expensive leather chair. It was much nicer than the stained swivel seat his receptionist occupied outside this room. Wentworth wasn’t happy with me making myself comfortable, but he could deal.

  “Why the midnight theft, and why get the police involved later?” I demanded.

  Wentworth kept his mouth shut.

  “I have proof of your involvement. I will take it to the authorities.” I paused, letting the words sink in. I didn’t have solid proof, only a hunch, but I hoped the insinuation would be enough to get the man talking. I added lightly, “Unless you would like to cooperate and tell me why you’re involved with Hume. Lola has already told me about her connection to him. I’m putting all the pieces together. You might as well hand yours over.”

  “Soto should have never hired you.” He strode to the other side of the room and closed the office doors. When he settled back behind his desk, he seemed on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

  “Hume knew about the affair,” he stated.

  I arched a brow.

  “W-with Lola,” Wentworth stuttered.

  Well, shit. Wentworth and Lola Park? She was so beautiful, smart, and innovative. Why had she been messing around with this guy?

  “If word got out, my reputation would be in the dumpster. I would lose this job. My art dealing would end. And Lola can’t be outed as having slept with a married man.”

  My heart sank for Lola. Had she known Wentworth was married? The detail didn’t matter as much as my other questions. “So, Victor found out about your affair and blackmailed you into letting his thieves take the sword. Did he ever say why he wanted it?”

  Wentworth shook his head. “Soto was the first to hear about it, and the next thing I knew, she had hired you.”

  “What about the police?” I pressed. “Why involve them? Did you have a change of heart regarding Hume?”

  Wentworth’s face tightened, and he put his hands up. “Look, I never wanted anything to do with the guy. It doesn’t matter if I had a change of heart or not, because he still has dirt on me. He said he preferred the police to ‘Sterling and Smith sniffing around.’”

  The words chilled me. Another confirmation that Victor saw me and my firm as a threat. “The police could still find out he was behind it, especially if they question you,” I pointed out.

  Wentworth shifted nervously, and I noticed his shaking hands. I almost felt sorry for him. I thought of how he’d treated Roxanne and me, and that he’d been sleeping with a young millionaire behind his wife’s back. Classic, I thought.

  I leaned forward. “Do you know why Hume has been arranging thefts at other museums?”

  He shook his head. “No idea. I didn’t know he was doing that.” He swallowed, then reached for a pad of paper. He scribbled an address, date, and time onto the paper, tore it off, and handed it to me. “He’s holding an event in Richmond this weekend. You can go and ask him yourself.”

  I took the paper. I might do that.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  JACKSON

  Vinny rarely left his house. As a warlock, he blended in among human society better than most. He didn’t require regular intakes of blood, synthetic or otherwise, and his attraction to women didn’t make his teeth sharpen into what was widely considered unnatural points. The sun didn’t affect him, and though his lifespan was longer than average, he wasn’t three centuries old and probably never would be.

  He hid anyway. He was a cautious man and enjoyed the comforts of his home. He also enjoyed money and having clients who brought it in.

  So when he arrived at my front door Monday afternoon, I knew it was serious.

  Vinny had left his home in Vermont, probably fighting snow drifts and icy roads to come here. I wasn’t expecting a knock at my door. Guests were so rare. Only Vinny and Tatiana had been inside this house in the past several months.