The night on the yacht.

The day in the garden.

Was that all part of her cover? Are cops even allowed to do that?

“I’d be pissed if someone did that to me. Especially given how close she got to you.” He draws a finger over his chest. “Just so the necklace around her neck could record everything.”

“Fuck . . .” It slips out of my mouth before I can help myself. The necklace that she wore all the time.

Except . . . I frown. Except she didn’t wear it all the time.

“What is it?” Special Agent Warner Briggs leans in.

I struggle to smooth my expression. She didn’t wear it every time. I remember the day at the garden. She wasn’t wearing it then. I noticed it missing. There were other times too, nights in bed, in the shower, when I stared down at her bare neck, wondering what the diamond raindrops would look like on her, wondering if it was too soon to give the gift to her.

But what does that mean?

Everything you’ve ever told me about Rust, the car stuff, everything, stays between you and me. That’s what she said.

You’ll make it through, I promise.

Holy shit. She knew they were bringing me in. She was warning me. My heart begins racing with confusion, with hope, with pain.

But why?

Chapter 58

CLARA

The observation room door clicks open and a man I am beginning to truly detest steps through.

“How’s he holding up?” Sinclair peers through the window at Luke and Warner, who are facing off. Luke’s face has grown at least four shades paler.

“Still not budging.”

Sinclair exhales loudly, clearly frustrated. “Well, we have a twenty-four-hour surveillance detail on the garage manager now, but who knows if he’s actually going to lead us to the drop.”

I silently berate myself. Luke even told me that Miller was in on it. “I can’t believe we didn’t see the connection.”

“Too many moving pieces. Sometimes the most obvious ones are the ones that get missed.” He pauses. “What’s Warner doing in there?”

“Playing good cop and trying to piss 12 off.”

Sinclair hits a button on the wall, turning the audio to the room up a few notches.

Warner’s thick Boston accent fills the speakers. “What? Do you think she fell in love with you? Come on, man. She was just doing her job. She’d doesn’t fucking love you. She doesn’t even like you!”

Sinclair snorts, seemingly unperturbed. “That’s good cop?”

By the hard set of Luke’s jaw, Warner’s words are cutting him deep. My stomach drops when I hear him demand, “Let me talk to her. I want to talk to Rain.”

“You mean undercover Officer Clara Bertelli. Really? Why? What could you possibly have to say that she might want to hear?”

Warner’s so wrong. I want to hear it all. Every last reason why Luke hates my guts now. Maybe it’ll make this hurt less. I swallow against the hard lump in my throat. “As soon as 12 lawyers up, he’s going to find out that we have nothing on him and he’s going to walk.”

“Well, then you don’t have a lot of time to get in there and convince him to help us, do you? Look.” Sinclair steps in closer. “Busting this guy isn’t going to do anything. He’s a dumb kid who trusted his uncle and got mixed up in this stuff. I know that. He can walk. But I want the Russian mob. I want Aref Hamidi. And I will do whatever I have to to shut this entire operation down.” He knocks on the glass and Warner turns his head toward us. “Did you see the look on the garage manager’s face today? He was scared shitless. I’m guessing he doesn’t want to be in whatever spot Vladimir Bragin has forced him in, especially after the last guy ended up with a bullet in his head. I’ve seen guys like Steve Miller before. They squeal like pigs when they’re cornered. When we get him in here, he’s going to give us everything we need, and that includes 12. So if this kid wants any chance of freedom, he’d better start spilling his guts.”

“What if he doesn’t know anything?”

“He knows a helluva lot more than we think he does.” Sinclair’s eyes narrow, boring into me. “And I think you know that.”

Chapter 59

LUKE

“You’re not getting another word out of me until I see my lawyer. Now, can you please ask Rain to come in here?”

A second knock on the window and Special Agent Briggs throws his index finger in the air, as if to signal “one minute.” “I’ll see if she wants to see you. I know she’s getting ready to move on to her next case. Another decent-looking guy who’s going to fall for her.”

This guy knows how to aim his punches for impact.

He stands and then, leaning in so close to me that I can smell the coffee on his breath, he whispers, “There isn’t a law that can protect you if you touch so much as a hair on Clara’s body. Now, or fifty years from now. Do you understand?” Smoothing his shirt as he straightens, I watch him stalk out of the room, his back rigid.

His lethal warning completely unnecessary.

Another uncomfortable length of time stretches out in front of me as I now stare at that glass, unable to keep my fingers from drumming against the smooth table surface. Wondering if she’ll show up. Wondering how different Officer Clara will be from Rain, the girl I fell for.

Finally, I get my wish.

Rain walks through the door, hugging a small stack of folders, a look that I’ve seen flicker across her face before now permanently etched. I didn’t recognize if for what it was, then. Now I do.