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and
untangled it from the strap of her purse.
    “Cameron Tremaine.”
    Silence greeted her.
    She switched ears for better reception and
checked the caller ID. Unknown caller.
    “Hello?”
    Nothing.
    “I don’t have time for this,” she mumbled as
she hit the end button and then buried the phone into the depths of
her purse. After eight unknown callers in one day, she refused to
answer it again.
    As soon as the elevator delivered her to the
fifth floor, Cameron stomped through the office door, right past
Rachel, tossed her bag onto the couch, and threw herself down
beside it.
    “Obviously your meeting didn’t go well.”
Rachel handed her a steaming mug. “You’re favorite, raspberry
tea.”
    “Thank you. Some people have no taste.”
    Cameron’s cell phone rang again from the
bottom of her purse. She ignored the noise and quietly sipped her
tea.
    “Aren’t you going to answer that?” Rachel
asked.
    Cameron gave Rachel her best yeah
right look. “No.”
    Rachel frowned. “You always answer your
phone.”
    “Not this time.” Cameron took another sip and
swung one leg. “The stupid thing’s been ringing all morning.”
    “That’s good, right? The more business, the
better.”
    Cameron sighed and set her mug on the table
in front of the couch. “Normally,” she agreed, “except that every
time I answer, no one is there.”
    “Maybe it’s a bad connection.”
    “Eight times?”
    “What does the caller ID say?”
    “Unknown caller.”
    “Probably one of those computerized sales
calls,” Rachel decided.
    “Maybe.” She relaxed somewhat at Rachel’s
suggestion. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
    “Oh!” Rachel stood, picked up a tan envelope
from the front desk and handed it to her. “You have mail.”
    “Great!” Cameron grabbed the envelope and
tore open the top. “Hopefully these are the swatches I’ve been
waiting for.”
    She gasped when three glossy 8x10 photos fell
into her lap. Her stomach lurched as her eyes scanned photos of
Sean and her at three different locations around town. Photos taken
of what she’d considered private, romantic dates. Obviously, she’d
been mistaken.
    “Not swatches,” she whispered.
    Rachel scooped the pictures from Cameron’s
lap. “Anything else?”
    Cameron nodded and unfolded a small slip of
paper.
    YOU CAN’T HIDE
    “Cameron?” Rachel prodded. “What does it
say?”
    Cameron handed the note to Rachel and watched
as the blood left her face.
    “I don’t suppose there’s a return address,”
Rachel murmured.
    “No.”
    “Any ideas?”
    Cameron refolded the paper and placed it back
into the envelope. “Vince.”
    “He’s in jail.”
    “No, he’s not. The warden called me a couple
days ago. He’s out.”
    “You really think this is from Vince?”
    “Yes.”
    “And the phone calls?”
    “Yes.”
    Rachel grabbed the phone. “We need help.”
    “Who are you calling?”
    “Hawke.”
    “No offense, Rachel, but I don’t think Music
Man can help us much.”
    “Shush,” Rachel snapped.
    Cameron watched Rachel rub her stomach as she
explained the situation to Hawke. Within seconds, she disconnected
and re-dialed.
    Cameron frowned. “That was fast. Now who are
you calling?”
    “Max,” Rachel said.
    “Hawke’s Max?”
    “Yes, Cameron, Max.”
    To anyone else but Cameron, Rachel’s tone
offered no argument, but Cameron wouldn’t summon Max out of
fear.
    She swallowed the softball in her throat.
“Choose someone else.”
    Rachel folded her arms across her chest in a
bold dare. “No. We need Max.”
    Cameron opened her mouth to issue a challenge
then closed it, realizing Rachel wouldn’t budge. “Fine. Call
Max.”
     
    * * *
     
    Max lifted a two hundred pound barbell from
the cradle and pumped it several times before he replaced it. He
lifted a lot more lately, all due to Cameron Tremaine. The feisty
little pixie had managed to worm her way through his armor and wrap
him around her little finger. Now that she saw Pirelli