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everything for us. Think of the kids. They need a mom, and I’ve been a great dad. Everyone knows that.”
    Laura hesitated before pushing him away. “No. Let’s just talk about how we’re going to do this. Now. Today. I want you to move out. Find a place. Stay in a motel. A separation.” She paused, shivering again, not so much from anger as fear. This was her life she was discarding. And Steve was a good father. The kids would miss him terribly. Should she reconsider?
    â€œLook,” he said quietly, “if it’ll make you happy, I’ll stay somewhere else for a couple of days. I can understand why you’re pissed. God, if I ever found you with someone, I don’t know —” His voice trailed off. “You don’t have to worry about Kim either, she’s leaving Tampa.”
    Laura winced. “Stop. As long as you’re not here, you can be with whomever you want.”
    Steve smiled ruefully. “Laura, c’mon. Just cut me a little slack. A mistake. I swear.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œOkay, okay. I’ll give you some time. Just don’t tell the kids? Say I’m on business. Will you do that?”
    â€œI’m not going to tell them I caught you with Kim in their own house, that’s all I know right now.”
    â€œI don’t think leaving is a good idea. I know we can work things out.”
    Laura shook her head. “After what happened last night, we can do two things,” she improvised as a renewed wave of hurt reinforced her resolve. “Choice one. I go to George Granger and tell him about you and Kim. You know how he feels about me. No way he’ll keep you on at the station.”
    Steve’s face swelled with anger. “You’d try to get me fired? You know he’s already on me about the ratings.”
    â€œI’ll call him today, right now. I don’t want to, but —”
    â€œYou wouldn’t do that!”
    â€œOr, choice number two. You just leave. It’s the sensible thing to do. We’ll figure out the best way to tell the kids. The best way for them, not for you,” she continued, sadness softening her voice.
    â€œLaura, please. I’m asking for another chance. Kim doesn’t mean anything to me. It’ll never happen again. How many times do I have to tell you?”
    â€œYou’re right,” she said slowly, “it will never happen again — to me.”
    Kim Connor opened her eyes, glanced at the clock on her bedside table and groaned. Ten-fucking in the morning. She squeezed her eyes shut and yanked up the covers, but the doorbell chime did not stop.
    â€œFuck.” She crawled out of bed, grabbing a paisley silk bathrobe on her way to the door. Peering through the peephole, she sighed in recognition and unhooked the chain.
    â€œCarmen? You okay?” Kim reached for her friend’s hand. “Come in, honey.”
    â€œI’m okay. Sorry I’m so early, but man, he did a number on you.”
    Kim reached up and touched her face. “Must look awful. I’m still half asleep.”
    â€œHey, you’re gorgeous no matter what. Go fix yourself up and I’ll make coffee.”
    Carmen Williams was the only friend that Kim Connor had — girlfriend, that is. They’d met in a club in Ybor City, Tampa’s historic Cuban enclave, ten years earlier. Both twenty-two. Both heavy into cocaine. No money, loaded with debt, they’d resorted to prostitution to support their pricey habit. Not really professional whores, just selling sex when desperate for a hit. Each was Hispanic on their mother’s side, and a mix of European on their father’s. Kim’s Hispanic genetics dominated with her dark hair, olive complexion, and coal black eyes. She was small boned, hot-tempered, and provocatively sexy. Carmen’s skin was lighter, her eyes a tawny hazel, her heavier build characteristic of her father’s family. Her long,