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bag to the back and found lightweight tan slacks to go with his baby blue polo shirt. A lot more comfortable than Emma’s outfit.
    Emma’s eyes went from Cole to Frank and back again. “What—exactly—is our cover?” she asked.
    “We’re keeping it as simple as possible. Cole’s a wealthy playboy named Cole Mason who lives off the money he inherited from his rich parents. You have a little business that does custom detailing for luxury cars, mostly because you like to add weird stuff to your own vehicles.”
    “Super.”
    He looked at Emma. “You’re his current girlfriend. Like Del Conte, he hasn’t formed any attachments that last more than a few years.”
    “He’ll check my background,” Cole muttered.
    “Granada and Henderson have taken care of that. You’ve got a history he can look up on the Web. Starting with your getting kicked out of half a dozen private colleges.”
    Cole winced.
    “Use the rest of the time to read about yourself.” He turned to Emma. “You too. Briefly, you’re Emma Ray. Until a couple of months ago, you were a waitress in a cocktail bar in Denver. Cole came in and swept you off your feet. Or, at least, he offered you a lifestyle you couldn’t afford on your own. Like many women down through the ages, you saw the advantages of being the mistress of a wealthy man.”
    “And what’s supposed to happen to me when he gets tired of the mistress?” Emma snapped.
    “Maybe you can make it turn out like that movie—Pretty Woman.”
    She snorted.
    Cole kept his gaze focused on the briefing book, but he saw Emma clutch the edge of the folder. She hadn’t been assigned a very appealing role, but then neither had he.
    They both concentrated on their own background material for the rest of the trip to Florida, except when Frank took Cole into the back of the plane for a short private conference.
    “You know I’m hoping your special talents will bring Karen home,” he said.
    “I figured. If I can pick up her scent, I can find her. But getting her out of there isn’t going to be so easy.”
    “I hate that old cliché—I’m counting on you. But it’s true.”
    “You’re not expecting me to turn into a wolf in the middle of one of Del Conte’s playrooms, are you?”
    “Probably not. But maybe the wolf will come in handy.”
    Cole nodded. He had a relationship with Frank that went deep. The Decorah chief had saved his life, then practically adopted him. Before Cole met Frank, he’d been content with his high school education. Frank had paid for college and graduate school, and Cole had discovered he liked using his brains as well as his brawn.
     He’d learned a hell of a lot from Frank, and not just about the security business, although the man’s insights were the cornerstone of his own expertise. And he was always going to be grateful—for all of it.
    As they came back, Emma gave them a long look. When neither one of them enlightened her about the private conversation, she went back to her briefing book, but he knew she was bristling at being excluded.
    As far as he was concerned, the flight was over much too quickly.
    They landed at a small airfield outside Fort Lauderdale, where a rental car was waiting. A supercharged Infinity sports model, as per Cole’s supposed rich guy—car freak—status.
    Before they left for the marina where Del Conte’s hovercraft would pick them up, Decorah had a few more things to say.
    “There’s a transmitter in Emma’s purse. In her lipstick. You won’t be able to send a message because that would give you away. But when you’re ready to leave, twist the bottom of the tube and it will send a signal to the boat we’ll have waiting to pick you and Karen Hopewell up.”
    “What if they don’t get there in time?”
    “You might have to swim away from the ship.”
    “Oh great,” Emma muttered.
    “You can swim, can’t you?” Frank Decorah snapped, and it was obvious that he was feeling the strain of the assignment.
    “You