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wondered how a kid who wasn’t even ten could have such insight into human nature.
    “I don’t think he’s better or worse than any man,” Justine said at last. “He’s just different from what I’m used to.”
    “What’s your daddy like?” Piper asked.
    And Justine felt her heart lurch a bit. She never talked about Jackson Conrad or Millie. Never talked about her family. No one ever asked. She just lived her life and did her job, and that was the extent of it. She’d become this bit of nothingness that was simply her job.
    “Justine?”
    “Hmm?”
    “Do you have a dad?”
    “He died when I was eight.”
    “Oh. I’m sorry.”
    “Me, too. He wasn’t anything like your dad, but he was the best dad for me.”
    Piper sat down in the seat across from Justine and tipped her head to the side, her concentration intent as she watched her. Those eyes that were so like Nigel’s and yet so unique were studying her, but this time Justine knew that Piper had switched from the little girl to the artist. She had the same deep concentration that Justine had when she was working. She could shut off the real world and fall into a world where life was just about the target and the job.
    She reached for her handgun, fingered the butt of her gun, and felt soothed by it, almost could smell the Old Spice after- shave her father used to wear. In her mind she heard his advice, the only thing he said to her and her sister every night.
    “Vigilance is key.”
    Justine pushed to her feet as Piper got out a sketchbook and pencil. She paced the aisle, watching for dangers in a place where she knew there weren’t any. But her father had instilled in her the need to always be on her guard. Something she’d forgotten only once. But then Franklin Baron had reminded her of it with his betrayal.
    She walked by Nigel’s work desk, pretending she didn’t notice him or the spicy clean scent of his aftershave. On her return trip, his hand snaked out and clamped down on her wrist. She twisted her hand in his grip and reversed the hold so that he was her captive. He did the same thing, and she had the feeling they were well matched in this. Were they physical equals?
    She doubted it. Even with her training in hand-to-hand combat and street fighting, he had brute strength on his side, and that could never be discounted.
    She raised one eyebrow at him and tugged on her hand. He let her go immediately.
    “I’d like a word with you,” he said quietly, his voice almost a soundless whisper.
    “About?” she asked, answering in the same low voice.
    “My daughter. Is she bothering you?”
    “No, not at all.”
    “What were you talking about?”
    “Fathers. Why?”
    Nigel sat back in his chair and saying nothing more, Justine started to move past him. “I do the best I can.”
    His softly muttered words made her realize that he had a few doubts about himself. That vulnerability—admitting that he had it—struck her. She put both hands on his desk and leaned forward, coming closer to him than she knew he expected. His eyes widened.
    “You do better than most men,” Justine said. “She’s a good kid and very…”
    Justine wasn’t a woman with a big vocabulary, and somehow calling Piper wise for her age didn’t strike her as the right thing to say. “You are doing a good job with her. She’s safe, and that’s all that really matters.”
    Nigel laughed a bit at that. “Safety is important. That’s why I hired you.”
    “I’m good at my job.”
    “That’s obvious.”
    Justine straightened to walk away, but he stopped her again, putting his hand on her arm this time, not grabbing her. His fingers feathered over the exposed skin of her wrist, and she felt a tiny shiver slide up her arm. She glanced back down at him. His eyes were narrowed as he looked at his big hand on her arm.
    “Thank you for being so good at your job.”
    It was the one thing she’d always had, and she realized that while the restlessness inside of her wanted