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fact-finding mission, but the data she managed to acquire didn’t help her solve the puzzle.
    Nick Barrett was twenty-eight years old. He’d grown up in upstate New York, attended college at Princeton and was an active duty officer in the army. Rebecca didn’t know how current that information was, because Nick had implied he no longer served in the military. So which was it? Current or former military?
    The answer to that came when Harry phoned back less than twenty minutes later.
    “You got something already?” she demanded in lieu of greeting.
    “Yeah, a lot of red flags.” His voice took on that suspicious note that told her he smelled a conspiracy.
    Sure enough, Harry’s next words were, “I smell a conspiracy.”
    She had to smile. “Hit me.”
    “I just spoke to an army buddy based on the East Coast. He did a search on Nick Prescott. Turns out Prescott did serve, but there’s nothing in his file for the past five years, which is most likely confirmation that he did indeed go the Special Ops route.”
    “Okay, what else?”
    “The file says he was honorably discharged a year ago, but I couldn’t find any trace of him since then. Nick Prescott, that is.”
    “What about Nick Barrett?”
    “That’s the fishy part. According to my source at the Department of Defense, Nick Barrett was also discharged from the army last year, which makes sense if he really did use the name Prescott. But Barrett is allegedly playboying it up in the Caribbean since he left the army. Supposedly he’s in St. Barts at the moment.”
    Rebecca frowned. “Is your source reliable?”
    “He works under the deputy secretary, and he’s basing this intel on a conversation he personally had with Secretary Barrett— yesterday. ”
    “So yesterday, the sec def told someone that his son, Nick, was in St. Barts.”
    “Yessiree.”
    “But we know for a fact that Nick is not in St. Barts. He’s here in Cortega.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to make sense of it all. “Why is he here, Harry?”
    “Looks like we need to dig deeper, sweetheart. I’ll keep looking into it. In the meantime, try to get another meeting with Barrett.”
    “If he hasn’t skipped town already,” she muttered.
    “Well, see what you can do. Oh, and word came from upstairs—the powers that be want more riot coverage. You in the middle of the action, if possible.”
    “Tonight?” she said in alarm.
    “Tomorrow morning, but only if the crowd is still unruly.”
    Rebecca suppressed a sigh. Wonderful. Get Trampled in a Stampede, Part Two.
    “Fine. Call me if you find out more about Barrett, okay?”
    “Of course. Good night, Becks. Great reporting today.”
    She hung up the phone and stared at the picture of Nick on her computer screen. Lord, the man was delicious .
    A part of her almost wished she’d saved the big I-know-who-you-are reveal until after she’d slept with the man.
    A shiver rolled through her as she wondered what he’d be like in bed. He looked and acted like such a gentleman, but she’d glimpsed the passion in his amber-colored eyes as they’d swept over her body. Would he be sweet and gentle beneath the sheets? Or did he leave his chivalry at the door when it came to sex?
    Disappointment filled her belly as she realized she’d never get the chance to find out.
    What’s more important, Becks—sex or a Pulitzer?
    Right. She definitely needed to focus on the latter. No matter how attractive Nick Barrett was, his delectable body wasn’t the ultimate prize.
    No, his secrets were what she was after.
    * * *
    The call came to one of his private cell phones. Not the one reserved for business or the one he used for personal calls. This phone was for personal business.
    The kind of business that every last man in D.C.’s political arena dabbled in—and would deny to their last breath.
    “What is it?” He kept his voice low and his gaze fixed on the closed office door.
    Although he was burning the midnight oil, there was