RAFE SAT on the park bench on Boston Common, his cashmere overcoat open to the warmth of the noonday sun. He watched the skaters glide around in a circle on Frog Pond, remembering Christmas Day and the time he'd spent skating with Keely. If someone had told him he'd pass an afternoon wobbling around a frozen pond on skates, he would have called them a fool. But he'd actually had fun. By the end of the day, he had even become a passable skater.

He and Keely had shared so much in the past five days. But, above all, everything they'd done had been fun-from the uninhibited sex to the quiet dinners over a bottle of wine to their walks along the Charles. Rafe had never put much stock in "fun," but he had to admit that it added a new dimension to his life. He'd smiled more in the past week than he had in the entire year. In the annals of his affairs with women, Rafe knew that Keely would rank as his favorite. She was sweet and understanding out of bed, and wild and passionate between the sheets. And there was something about that contrast that he found completely captivating. Other women had tried to cultivate such an image, but with Keely it was real.

Still, a dark cloud continued to hang over them. Keely wasn't just any woman he'd brought to his bed-she was a Quinn. The daughter of his father's murderer. And he should be spending his time working up a decent case of disgust for his behavior with her, instead of wondering what new adventure they'd share in his bedroom that night.

So he enjoyed her body. Like she'd said, they had no claims on each other, no strings. It was purely a sexual thing and, before long, the desire would fade and they'd both move on.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about," he muttered to himself. Rafe cursed softly. He had to watch himself. There were times when he was starting to feel like a first-class sap, thinking about Keely at all hours, wondering what she was doing, who she was talking to, whether she was thinking about him. Though Rafe was quite certain he wasn't in love, he still couldn't define exactly what he was feeling. He liked Keely. She was beautiful and sexy and intriguing and he enjoyed spending time with her.

Hell, he'd always had a one-month maximum with women, averaging two dates a week and five decent nights in bed before boredom set in. He quickly tallied up his time with Keely and was surprised to find that he'd already surpassed his normal mark.

"Hey! Are you Sam Kendrick's kid?"

Rafe looked up, startled out of his thoughts. An older man stood in front of him wearing a battered jacket and faded blue jeans. Time had not been kind to Ken Yaeger. His face was deeply lined and his thinning hair was unkempt and his teeth were badly in need of a dentist. "I am."

Yaeger flopped down next to him on the bench and rubbed his hands together. "Why the hell did we have to meet here? This town is filled with heated taverns and decent whiskey. I spent enough of my life out in the cold-I don't need to spend more." He reached inside of his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask, then offered it to Rafe. "Care for a nip?"

Rafe pushed the flask away, shaking his head. "How did it go?"

Yaeger shrugged. "They were pretty interested in what I had to say. Asked why I was coming forward and I gave them some shit about my conscience. I wrote it all down for them and they told me they'd be calling me. They gotta figure out who's in charge."

"You didn't go in there drunk, did you?"

"What difference does it make? It doesn't change the truth."

"I want to hear it," Rafe demanded. "The whole story. Exactly the way you told it to the police."

Yaeger gathered his thoughts for a moment, took another swig from the flask, then cleared his throat. "Well, ya see, I'd been working on the crew of the Mighty Quinn for about three years. Seamus was looking for a sixth to make one last run out to the Grand Banks before the winter set in. Sam Kendrick and I knew each other from Gloucester and I knew he was looking for work. The boat he usually fished from didn't make late-season runs. And since your ma was…well, you know…sickly, Sam wasn't planning to head south that winter. So he signed on with Seamus Quinn for one run." Yaeger paused and gave Rafe a toothless smile. "Your dad was a good guy. He could have captained his own boat if he'd had the scratch to buy a rig."

"He was planning to buy a boat," Rafe said. "He and my mother were saving."

"We'd been out for two weeks and the hold was about half-full. Then the weather reports started coming in. Seamus wanted to ride out the storm and continue fishing. Your dad wanted to head in. But Seamus's word was final. Still, Sam kept at him and the weather kept getting worse and pretty soon everyone wanted to go in. Something felt bad about this run and we all knew if we didn't get off the water, we'd end up under it. It spooked us. Pretty soon, it was us against Seamus."

"A mutiny?" Rafe asked.

"About as close as you could come. Your dad was out on deck, securing all the gear so the waves wouldn't wash it away. I was up in the wheelhouse. Seamus went out and they started yelling at each other. Sam threw a punch and caught Seamus on the chin. Seamus hit Sam in the stomach. Sam threw another cross and lost his balance on the slippery deck. Then Seamus went for him. He shoved him hard and Sam went over the side. It was black out and the storm was coming up fast. We tried to find him, but by the time we did, it was too late. That water's so cold. A guy can only last maybe ten, fifteen minutes before he's a goner." Yaeger shuddered, then took another swallow from the flask. "I remember what he looked like when we finally found him and fished him out. That image just doesn't leave a guy."

Rafe stared down at his hands, feeling anger surge up inside him, and his determination doubled. Seamus Quinn was going to pay. "Why didn't you tell the truth back then?"

"Seamus convinced us to make it appear as if he got pulled over by the line. We tore up his slicker a little bit to make it look like that's what got caught. That way he would have been killed while he was working and your ma could collect more insurance. If Sam was even partially to blame for his own death, she'd get less. And he was the one who threw the first punch. He was the one talking mutiny."

"So Seamus covered up his part in a murder. And he committed insurance fraud as well."

"I s'pose you could say that. Yeah, I'd say that. Fraud."

"Was there any investigation?"

"Fishing is a dangerous profession. That's a fact everyone accepts. And all the guys on the boat were straight with the story, so that was the end of it. I kept my mouth shut and collected my pay."

"Is there anyone else who can back up this story?"

"The cops asked me that. Walt McGill died a few years back. Johnny Sayers went down with the Katie Jean in 1981. And the last I heard, Lee Franklin was working a charter business somewhere in the Florida Keys. But that was ten years ago. He'd back up my story though. Seamus was the one who pushed your father overboard that night." Yaeger paused and took another sip from the flask. "So I did my part. What am I going to get for telling my story?"

"What do you expect?"

"Well, I'm not doin' this for my health. I've got expenses."

"I thought you wanted to help my mother."

"Hey, that don't pay the rent."

Rafe reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He withdrew all the cash he carried and handed it to Yaeger. "That's to cover your expenses for coming here. And once Quinn is in jail, then there'll be more to get you home. And more after you testify. But let me make one thing clear. I'm not paying for your testimony. I'm just covering your expenses because you're a friend of the family. And if you bring my name into this, the cash flow stops."

Yaeger gave him a grudging nod, then stood and held out his hand. "It's nice doin' business with you."

Rafe didn't return the gesture. Instead, he turned his attention back to the skaters. When Yaeger finally stumbled off, Rafe let out a tightly held breath. He was doing the right thing. He shouldn't have to convince himself of that fact anymore. Then why the hell was he so uneasy? Something about his plan didn't seem right.

"Keely," he muttered. This was all her damn fault. If she hadn't stumbled into his life and turned everything upside down, he wouldn't have any doubts about ruining Seamus Quinn for good.

All his life, he'd been focused on success, every move calculated to make more money and acquire greater power. He'd thought that money and power would fill the empty spaces in his soul. And when it didn't, he'd decided those spaces could be filled by avenging his father's death. Now, if that didn't work, he'd have to look elsewhere. But he knew that surrendering power to Keely would never be the solution.

If he allowed himself to feel something for her, then she gained the advantage, she held all the cards. He'd change his life for her and, sooner or later, she'd walk away. His mother's psychiatrists might say that his father's death had instilled these fears in him, fears of abandonment. They might also say that, until he faced these issues, he'd never have a normal relationship with a woman.

But that's what he was doing with his campaign against Seamus Quinn-he was facing his issues and putting his life in order. And if Keely was an innocent bystander who got caught in the crossfire, then that was her problem, not his. The truth would set them all free.

Rafe stood up and took a last look at Frog Pond, pushing aside any thoughts of Keely Quinn. His course had been set. This afternoon, he'd drop her off at work and call an end to it. There was no going back. Losing an incredible bedmate was a consequence he'd have to live with.