Page 32 of Fight for Me

The shadowed figure of a man sat in the chair by the window.

Adrenaline shot through her in a cold rush, and she stumbled backward, her thoughts racing. Then she abruptly recognized him and relaxed.

“Damn it. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” She was pissed. He hadn’t invaded her personal space in months. “What are you doing here? We agreed I’d contact you if I learned anything.”

The man opened a file folder on his lap and handed her an eight by ten glossy photo. “Do you know who this is?”

The photograph was a candid shot of a man. Anne’s eyes widened. He was stunningly beautiful. Raven black hair, piercing blue eyes under dark, arched brows that gave him the look of a Lucifer dropped from heaven. A strong jaw, full lips, and the look in his eye would have made her scurry away if it had landed on her.

“No. Who is he?”

“He’s Senator Kirk’s personal assassin. The man who killed your brother.”

Her eyes widened and she stared at the photo again. “How do you know this?”

“I told you I’d find out.

“And what am I supposed to do with this information?” she asked.

“You have access to all the information on him that you could possibly want,” he replied. “You just need to utilize it.”

She waited a moment, thinking. “You mean Kirk.”

He nodded without a word.

“And you’re sure? Sure that this…assassin…killed Matt.” She had to be sure. This wasn’t some kind of game. Her intent was to find the one responsible for ending Matt’s life and respond in kind. There was no room for a mistake.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure. Now the question is…what are you going to do about it?”

Suspicion slithered up my spine. “Why do you care?”

His face was a blank mask as he answered. “I like to think that justice prevails, no matter the position or wealth of the accused.”

Anne snorted. She couldn’t help it. “Forgive me if I’m not quite on board with your utopian agenda. Life doesn’t work like that.”

The man shrugged. “Perhaps not. But I’m giving you the opportunity to right a wrong.” He stood. “You may or may not see me again. That’ll be up to you.”

Before Anne could figure out what that meant or what to say, he was gone.

She sank onto the couch, thinking hard. Matt had been her hero. The thought that Blane knew anything about his murder made her vision turn red in fury. Heaven, or hell, help her. She’d find out what he knew and anything this assassin might’ve done.

Picking up her cell, she dialed Blane. He answered on the second ring.

“Hello, Anne.”

His voice was deep and intimate, and she immediately wished she could confide to him what she’d just been told. She strangled that thought immediately. Just because he inspired trust didn’t mean he was trustworthy.

“I’ve thought about what you said,” she began. “I think you’re right. If you’re still interested, I’d like to see where this goes.” She held her breath. Was this too forward? Would he smell a rat? Or was she just being paranoid?

He took a moment, then replied. “I’m really glad you think so, and of course I’m still interested.”

Anne swallowed a sigh of relief.

“When can I see you again?” he asked.

“I’m free Monday night.”

“Then I’ll pick you up for dinner. Seven o’clock?”

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