Patrick’s gait skipped. “What? Where?”

“I sent you that text on Saturday.”

“I was a little preoccupied with my girlfriend getting shit-faced and you getting her lap dances,” Patrick retorted. “Thanks for that by the way.”

“You’re welcome.” Now Stella had to pull Cooper’s leash, letting him know to catch up. “How’s her face?”

“Scabbed over. She had Neosporin on all day Sunday.”

“Damn.” Stella grinned remembering Millie’s dress hem flying up and showing everyone her ass. “Is she going to work today?”

“To be determined; she threw up all day Sunday too. I’m pretty sure that was her first and last time at a strip club.” Patrick checked his watch. “What’s the setup for Wednesday? Has Harris given you all the details? Are you recording as well?” Patrick fired off question after question, not letting her answer.

“It’s fine, Dad! We’re meeting at Chadwick’s.” Stella pulled at Cooper to catch up with them. She took a second to realize he lagged behind a good bit today. He took several gallops and got even with her again. “You okay, Coop?”

He looked up at her, his tongue hanging out but enjoying himself.

“Does George know you’re doing this?” Patrick slowed his pace for her to keep up. “I don’t like you meeting him alone and George didn’t seem like he knew anything about it this weekend.”

“No, George doesn’t know. I don’t want this touching him. He left last night none the wiser.” She slowed her breathing. “I’m not going to be alone; the FBI will have me covered. It should be fine.” Her unease was difficult to mask from Patrick. The only reason she could hide things from George was that he wasn’t around to look at her face.

“I’m just saying,” Patrick shrugged, “he’s going to be pissed.”

“I’ll be fine. Really.” She checked their time on her phone. “Agent Harris will make sure of that.”

Rebuffed, Patrick looked straight ahead. “I can’t tell you how much I worry about you. It’s kinda weird.”

“Well, you’re weird, so I guess that works.”

“Oh, you love me.” He nudged her with his elbow.

“I do.” She focused on breathing for a while until they found their rhythm together, Cooper matching them foot for foot.

* * *

The next night, she rushed home from work to change and get ready for the dinner. She was wearing a light blue, low-cut top that showed off her cleavage, jeans, and her brown knee-high boots. She pulled her wool peacoat on to walk Cooper in the park and contemplated what she was doing. Stella knew this was the only way she could handle getting rid of Jamie. She’d tried to kill him herself and she was surprised when she realized she couldn’t do it.

Cooper pulled her back toward the house and she crossed the street casually, like she didn’t have a care in the world. One of the agents sat in the dark sedan on the road, watching her place. She smiled and made her way back into the house.

Stella hung Cooper’s leash on the hook and left him at the door to the garage, his tail wagging. She could do this. She would do this.

Delilah roared to life and she couldn’t help but smile. She made her way to Georgetown listening to Miranda Lambert. A little Gunpowder and Lead would do wonders for her nerves. She stopped in Rossyln on the street that Agent Harris had told her and pulled up behind a black van. Stella laughed when Harris opened the back door, revealing computers and such in the back—it was just like the movies. He grabbed her hand and she climbed up into the back of the van.

Agent Harris made her pull her shirt off and had the other agent there put a wire on her bra. The man flinched when he saw her scars. He looked away quickly, going over the basics of the microphone. He had her move certain ways so that she would know that would interfere with the recorder, whether it would be muffled or static-sounding, and reminded her that they needed to hear everything clearly. She nodded and made sure she knew all the ways she shouldn’t sit or stand or lean. Agent Harris warned her about tipping him off, about saying too much, too little. After a while, she blocked him out—too much information was going to put her off her game.

She took a deep breath when she stepped down out of the van, then got back in Delilah and took off. She vaguely noticed the van following her. Harris had told her they’d be within range, but wouldn’t be on the same street at the bar.

Chadwick’s was on Canal, one street over from G Street. It was dark and less traveled. Stepping out of the car, she gathered every bit of fake confidence she had and walked toward the bar. Her body betrayed her will and she threw up, twice, in a bush. She hoped Agent Harris appreciated that sound. While she was bending down, she pulled out the pen in her pocket and began recording. Stella turned on the record app on her phone as she closed the distance to the restaurant. She knew having three different devices record their conversation was overkill, but she had to get his admission.

The warmth of the bar hit her face, making her skin hot and her stomach knot. Get it together. She did a quick survey and relaxed a little when she realized that Jamie wasn’t there yet. She walked up to the bar and leaned against it, watching as the bartender made his way over to where she stood.

“Hi.” Stella smiled, covering her nervousness. She knew that Agent Harris was listening to every word.

“Hey, what can I get you?” The bartender was wearing a very tight black t-shirt with the bar’s logo on it. Chadwick’s was an old bar in Georgetown and a little off the beaten path so it wasn’t as loud or crowded as the restaurants and bars on G Street. She was hoping she’d have a better shot of getting the conversation recorded.

“Layer cake, please?” Stella felt the acid in her stomach churn again. “And a water!” she called out as she looked toward the door.

Stella felt his presence immediately. She waited at the bar for him to sidle up next to her.

“What’re you drinking?” Jamie asked as he nudged her shoulder with his.

Her body froze, then she forced herself to relax. Her vengeance was tucked away for this meeting; she wouldn’t get him to talk if she said what she wanted to him.

Jamie’s face was amused. “I drive you to drink?”

“I think that’s pretty fucking clear.” If she was too nice, he’d know something was up too. She needed to dance along a fine line. Stella didn’t know what she was doing, but she was going to give it all she had. She nodded at the bartender when he put her glass of wine down in front of her.

“Yuengling,” Jamie ordered. “We sitting at the bar or a table?” He looked from the bartender to her.

“Let’s sit over there,” Stella pointed at a two-top that was sort of out of the way.

Jamie smirked. “You want to be that alone with me?”

“No, I don’t want to be alone with you at all, but I think I may be able to solve all this shit and we won’t have to be around each other anymore.” She’d been working on her strategy on how to put him at ease. She hoped like hell it worked, because it was all she had.

“Oh really?” Jamie’s eyes raked over her and stayed on her cleavage for a beat too long, just like she knew it would. “That’s a really nice shirt.”

“Thank you.” She pulled the front of her shirt up with her left hand and fake smiled at him.

“Now you’ve ruined my view.”

“Fuck you.”

The table was small, making their conversation spatially and physically intimate, Jamie’s long legs bumping up against hers.

“You cuss way more than you used to,” Jamie commented.

“Well, could you imagine if your fiancé died, then you were in a bombing, got shot, and then kidnapped? It caused my inner sailor to come out.”

“So what’s this resolution you think you have?” Jamie ignored her comment and leaned back in his chair, separating himself from her.

She leaned in. “Well, before I talk to you about what I’m willing to do to help you out, I have some questions. I need closure.”

“Closure from what?”

She squeezed her arms around her chest, which in turn pushed her boobs together, making a ruffling noise and blocking the microphone in her bra. “I know you told me why you shot me in Montana, but I want to know why you were there in the first place.” Leaning back, she exhaled slowly.

Jamie looked around for a while and Stella thought he was just going to ignore her question. “Why?”

Stella cleared her throat and pushed back from the table a bit. “The Jamie that I knew,” she cleared her throat again, “that I loved, wouldn’t have bombed that office.”

“Stella,” Jamie gazed intently at her, “I still love you.”

Stella’s eyes dropped. “No you don’t.”

“Yes, the fuck I do.” Jamie grabbed her right hand, hard. Shit, maybe I should’ve left the cast on. “I hate you too. You’ve put me in a very bad position with some folks that I owe a little money to.”

“They say it’s a thin line.” She looked at their hands together and tried to pull away from him.

“I’m sorry.” He followed her gaze to their hands.

“For which thing?” The hardness was threatening to choke her.

“For everything.” Jamie released her hand and took a sip of his beer.

“Well, that’s an easy apology. You could at least focus on one of the things.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you like that, Stella. For you thinking I was dead. For, what did you say? Ruining you for anyone else.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “We had a really good thing once and you were all that kept me going during a really dark time.”

“I’ll never be okay, Jamie. It’s your fault.”