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know damn well you won’t kill me.”
    “I wouldn’t have
before. Now, I have several very good reasons to kill you.”
    “Okay.” I linked my
hands behind my head and left my feet on his desk. “So kill me.
I’ve got nothing left to lose.”
    In the silence, I
could hear the faint ticking of my ancient wristwatch. Maybe the
last thing I’d ever hear. Stemp’s gaze was as unwavering as his
gun, and I was pretty sure he wanted to shoot me just as much or
more than I wanted to shoot him. I was also pretty sure he wouldn’t
do it.
    But I wasn’t positive.
My heart thudded so loudly I was afraid he’d hear it and realize
how shit-scared I really was.
    About a year later, he
slapped his gun down onto the desk, and I managed to reduce my
involuntary jerk to a twitch.
    He blew out an
irritable breath. “Why can’t you be afraid to die like a normal
human being?”
    I shrugged and sat up,
letting my chair tip forward onto four legs so it didn’t topple
over from the force of my tremors.
    “Why should I be
afraid to die? Are you?” I was pleased my voice was still steady,
and I hid the quivering of my hands by lacing my fingers together
in my lap.
    Stemp actually allowed
a frown to form. “Not particularly. It comes with…” His frown
deepened. “…the territory,” he finished quietly. Suddenly his gun
was in his hand again. “Who are you working for?” he demanded.
    I hissed pent-up
tension through my teeth. “Fuck off with the gun, would you?
You keep messing around like that and you’ll end up shooting me by
accident.”
    “Answer the question.
You must be deep undercover. Who are you working for?”
    “Christ, not you, too!
I’m working for my own business as a bookkeeper at the moment. If
you’re smart, and if you give me what I want, I’ll be working for
you again. That’s it.”
    “You’re lying. You’re
an agent. And a good one, too. It’s the only way to explain your
reactions.” Stemp’s poker face was firmly in place again, his gun
steady. “What do you mean, ‘not me, too’?” He eyed me narrowly.
    Shit. Shouldn’t have
said that.
    “You know damn well
I’m on your side,” I snapped. “You’ve tested me often enough.”
    “True…” His gaze never
left my face, his eyes as expressionless as the bore of the gun
still trained on me. He contemplated me for a few long moments.
“Kane knew,” he said at last. “That’s what you meant. Kane knew
about your other undercover op, and he didn’t report it to me.”
    Fear trickled coldly
under my skin. If Stemp thought Kane had concealed a potential
security breach along with his personal feelings for me, I might
not be the only one calling in dead.
    “I’m not an agent!
Kane asked me if I was undercover, and I told him the same thing.
He believes me.”
    I resisted the urge to
cross my fingers when I spoke the last sentence. I was actually
pretty damn sure he didn’t believe me, but I thought he
trusted me. I hoped.
    “Please move your
chair back to the middle of the room,” Stemp directed. “Stay
seated. If you make any other move, I will shoot you, no questions
asked.”
    This time I believed
him. Pulse racing, I hitched the chair backward across the carpet.
Smoothly and carefully.
    Stemp one-handed the
gun and picked up the phone receiver. “Get me Kane.”
    We sat in silence, and
I held back grudging respect. Even in his one-handed grip, his gun
was rock-steady. When he spoke again, I had to suppress a start, my
nerves stretched almost to breaking.
    “Kane. How long have
you known about Ms. Kelly’s other undercover activities?”
    My stomach twisted
into slow knots while he listened without comment, and I imagined
Kane providing his usual concise, thorough report.
    Stemp spoke at last.
“I see. Very well.” He hung up without a goodbye, and I
determinedly ignored the need to gulp at the large, hairy lump
apparently lodged in my throat.
    Still watching me
steadily, he lifted the receiver again. “Send Dr. Travers