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immediately. “I can’t pick up the phone whenever you call. Why was that woman at the hotel? How did she know?”
    “She didn’t. It was a coincidence.”
    “I don’t believe in coincidences,” Travis said.
    “I have already spoken to a trusted contact who assures me that Ms. Morgan was at the hotel for a job interview.”
    “She’s a cop, what would she be doing there for an interview?”
    “She was a cop. We have already verified the information—she didn’t even schedule the interview, the hotel staff did. She was simply at the wrong place, wrong time.”
    “I don’t like it.” Travis had lived his life planning everything perfectly, and he didn’t like any deviation from the plan.
    “She’s not a problem. She’s been discredited with the police department, no one would believe her even if she suspected something was afoot, but if you act irresponsibly, you’ll draw attention to yourself.”
    “I’m fine,” he snapped. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t supposed to happen. His plan had been perfect, on so many levels. How could he have anticipated that Alexandra Morgan—or any cop—would be in the hotel at the exact moment as the shooter? It had been timed down to the minute.
    “However, you now have a problem.”
    “No, you have the problem.” Travis wasn’t going to take shit from this bastard, as if he worked for them . They had a business arrangement, as Travis liked to think of it. “You take care of it.”
    Silence. But Travis was not going to be bullied.
    “I will remind you, Mr. Hart, that you chose this method. You thought it would give you a what, a bump in the polls? I told you that it was too complex, too many things could go wrong, that simple is always better.”
    “Don’t lecture me.”
    “I will also remind you that you’re the one with the most to lose. I believe you have become paranoid, and we need to let things settle down before we pursue another method. Next time, however, I will not be taking your advice.”
    “Once this is done, there won’t be a next time.”
    “I certainly hope your house is clean. Because if it’s not, next time it may be you who are in the wrong place at that wrong time.”
    Hart fumed. “And I will remind you that we have a mutually beneficial arrangement. But if anything happens to me, the same will happen to you.”
    “Do not threaten me.”
    “It’s not a threat. You forget who I am.”
    Silence. Again.
    “I will never forget who you are, Mr. Hart. And I shouldn’t have to remind you that what I know about you will destroy you. If you live that long.”
     

 
    Chapter Four
     
    Alex had been sitting on a gurney in the emergency room for over an hour when she decided that going to the pharmacy and buying the biggest Band-Aid they had, then hitting the liquor store for her favorite tequila, would be just as effective as stitches. She would kill someone if she had to wait for the doctor any longer. There were people far sicker than her, people with heart attacks and strokes and broken bones. She was fine.
    She stood up and pushed open the drape that separated her from the rest of the emergency area and almost walked into Doctor Gabriel Storm.
    “Oh, God, not you.”
    He smiled. “I’m not God, but thank you.”
    She rolled her eyes and sat back down. She knew better than to argue with Gabriel. He’d been her surgeon last summer when she’d been shot, but she’d known him longer, ever since her best friend, Detective Selena Black, moved in with him last year. She and Selena had gone through the police academy together and worked in the same division until Alex was transferred to North Command.
    “I hate hospitals,” she said.
    “I know.”
    When she first arrived, they’d made her take off her shirt and gave her a gown, but she’d long since taken it off. She wore a sports bra which could hardly be called sexy. She’d been raised in a house of men, had been a cop for twelve years, and while