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“Me? Like a bodyguard?”
    Sid nodded.
    â€œForget it! The first time some skinny rich Anglo mouthed off, I’d bust the teeth out of his head.”
    â€œYou’d probably be making twice what you are now.”
    â€œWas.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œTwice what I was making.”
    â€œOh, right.” He proceeded cautiously. “So, what’s your plan? Go back to Albuquerque to set up a legal practice? Christal Ayana, attorney at law? Maybe handle some divorces? Draw up estate plans?”
    â€œHey, I got the degree. A little study and I can re-up on the bar.” Her lips twitched. “Even in New Mexico.”
    Sid grinned at her, reading her defensive smile. “I know. So, you graduated law school third in your class. And what? You slap an application on the FBI’s desk first chance you get. You breeze through the qualification and zap, next thing, you’re at Quantico; then you’re graduated, and sworn in with rave reviews.” He cocked his head. “You could have waltzed into a fancy law firm with a starting salary somewhere around a hundred grand. But you took the Bureau. Why?”
    Christal studied the card between her fingers. “Do you know what’s in all those law books that you see in a lawyer’s office, Sid?”
    â€œCases, right?”
    â€œLaw,” she answered. “Lawyers, at least good lawyers, spend most of their lives buried in those books. Applying their client’s situations to those cases, working up alternatives based on legal decisions.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œI did the books all the way through law school.” She glanced up. “And you know what?”

    â€œWhat?”
    For the first time, she actually smiled. “I hated it!” She laughed out loud. “Oh, I was good at it, because that’s what I had to be. Hour after hour, I sat and read and memorized. I could quote so-and-so versus what’s-his-name and The People versus Whozits. But to do it for the rest of my life?” She made a face.
    â€œDo me a favor?” Sid asked.
    The waiter appeared and set Christal’s salad in front of her.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œJust call the guy. I think he could provide you with enough excitement to keep you from gagging.”
    As the waiter departed she poked at her Caesar with a fork, turning one of the brown anchovies over and over. “You’re not trying to set me up or anything, are you?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œWhere do you know this guy from?”
    â€œWe were both Marine recon. Kosovo, Persian Gulf, Afghanistan. He went private while I stayed on the government’s payroll. I think you’d like him. He’s a no-bullshit kind of guy. Not only that, unlike some of the people in that room the other day, he works in the real world.”
    She was staring thoughtfully at the card, chewing. He could see her mind working. She asked, “Every job has its downside. What gives here?”
    â€œBoredom. Fatigue.” Sid shrugged. “Nothing you’re not used to in the field. Hours of sitting on your butt, staying alert, followed by moments of frenetic action. Sometimes horrible hours, sometimes travel. Not that different than investigation, actually.”
    â€œHe’ll ask why I left the Bureau.” He could see the air going out of her. “He’ll want references, to speak to my supervisor.”
    Sid speared a bit of carrot. “Nope. He won’t need to call anybody.”
    â€œWhat kind of guy is this? He’d just hire someone for a job like this without references?”
    â€œNever.”
    â€œBut you just said—”
    â€œI’ve already called him about you. He knows the score,
Chris. Like I said, he’s been in the real world. He could give a good goddamn what the AD or SAC have to say. I vouched for you.”
    Her eyes glistened, tears held back by force of will. “Why, Sid?”
    He gave her a crooked grin.