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“Do you
have an idea who told that reporter that you had threatened Ana Cole?”
    Basil shook his head. He knew who it was, but he couldn’t tell
Webb.
    Webb pulled his lower lip between his teeth. “What if it was
someone from Slow Wyne?”
    “I doubt that.”
    “Are you sure, brother?”
    Running a hand over his shaved head, Basil chuckled under his
breath. “I’m willing to bet our mama’s life on it.”
    “Intimidation doesn’t work on everyone.”
    Leaning lower, Basil rested his elbows on his knees. “There’s
only one person who knows what went down when I was trying to get Justin Glover
to sign with Slow Wyne, and that is Omar Thornton.”
    “Watch him, Basil.”
    “Omar is trustworthy.”
    “I can find out how trustworthy he is if you let me bug his
house.”
    Basil sat up straight. “What the hell are you saying,
Webb?”
    “Send him away on a business trip for a few days and my people
will bug his house and phones. After a while you’ll discover how trustworthy he
is.”
    “You’re paranoid.”
    “I am careful and thorough, Basil. I’m just trying to protect
your reputation. I didn’t do a bid for you to screw up because you’re pissed off
at a little girl who managed to get the best of you.”
    “She is not a little girl,” Basil said between clenched teeth.
“She’s a shark masquerading as a piranha.”
    Throwing back his head, Webb laughed loudly. He sobered when he
saw Basil’s expression. “Do you want Justin Glover?”
    “What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I want
him.”
    “I can get him for you, big brother.”
    The buzz of the intercom preempted Basil’s reply. “Excuse me,
but I have to get that.” He stood up, walked over to his desk and punched a
button on the telephone console. “Yes, Camille.”
    “Mr. Edwards’s secretary just called to say he’s on his
way.”
    “Thanks.” When he turned around Basil realized he was alone.
Webb had left. He didn’t want his brother to do anything that could send him
back to jail. The person he’d hired to kill Ana Cole had shot the wrong Cole.
However, the hired gun vowed Ana Cole was as good as dead.
    * * *
    Jacob Jones maneuvered up to curbside at the Marathon
airport, showed his shield and photo ID to the man who came over to the driver’s
side window. The officer’s eyes shifted from the official photograph to the man
with a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. He took a step closer,
glancing into the open window to see the holstered automatic weapon where his
right hand rested on his thigh.
    “I’m on the job,” Jacob explained. “My party is on the ground
and should be here in a few minutes,” he said to the police officer. What he
wanted to tell the man was that he wasn’t officially on the job, but what he had
agreed to do was akin to witness protection. The difference was Ana Cole wasn’t
a witness to a crime, but the intended target of a sniper with possible ties to
the military.
    “No problem, Marshal Jones. You have a good afternoon.”
    Jacob smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”
    When he’d gotten up earlier that morning he never would’ve
expected a call from Diego Cole-Thomas asking whether he’d be willing to protect
his cousin. It was the second day of a well-deserved eight-week vacation and
Jacob planned to do nothing more than sleep late, fish, cook his catch and view
several new movies in his extensive DVD collection.
    Diego had also filled him in on the details of the shooting
that had put Dr. Tyler Cole in the hospital with a chest wound. He wanted to
refuse his friend’s request, but couldn’t because he was godfather to Diego’s
son.
    He also wasn’t looking forward to sharing his home with any
woman. Whenever a woman crossed his threshold their stay was usually limited to
a few days. One had been fortunate to stay for an extended two weeks, but
anything beyond that had him formulating excuses to prepare them for their
departure.
    The week before he’d received an