The past is still too close to us. The things we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again… – Daphne du Maurier

He doesn’t remember me. – Nessa Santiago after her double date with Jase and Briel.

Tonight is going to be…interesting.

Before Jase stood Briel Cortes, five feet and three inches of intensity and talent.

She looked as thrilled as he felt about the date, but he imagined she held different reasons for her lack of enthusiasm.

A woman who can handle me. He actually laughed at the thought. Of all the women he knew, Briel was probably one of the two women who could. Of course, he had known eight years before when they had dated that it could never work - a two-headed snake was an impractical creation, always pulling in opposite directions.

As Drew had promised, Briel was beautiful. Jase hadn’t seen her dressed in anything but mission gear since the academy, and so seeing her now reminded him of why he had first pegged her as interesting.

When she had proved as brilliant and talented as he, Jase had realized she was not really right for him. It hadn’t been an ego thing, though he knew she would think so. Jase knew himself. He fought for dominance, above all else. Briel did the same.

The only people who worked with Jase were those who just refused the fight. Felicity had been like that. She held firm where she needed to, but not by fighting – just by being herself.

The idea of Briel had brought with it images of dramatic, dangerous battles, and Jase had known it would not be good for either of them. Conveniently, the higher ups had frown at his latching on such a promising new recruit – they feared Jase would hold her back.

Maybe he would have, and he was glad he had not. A censure from on high would normally have cemented Jase’s determination to do a thing, but he had wanted to get away from Briel without causing too much damage.

Jase’s best friend, Terrence, had complained and criticized Jase’s decision, but like the amazing friend he had been, Terrence gave him the benefit of the doubt. The thought reminded Jase how much he missed his friend.

Once Briel had left training, she and Jase had not run into each other for almost five years, and when they did, Jase had solidified all of her dislike. He could still smell the cold, damp air that blew in off the water across the tile and stucco in the Italian villa. During his entire career, that had been his most dangerous mission, and he had felt the least confidence in his cover. Those mafioso would have shot him in the back and thrown the body in the Grand Canal without batting an eye.

When they had dragged Briel into the main room to receive sentencing from the boss, Jase had thought he would collapse or be sick. Tiny little, tough as nails Briel. They had punched her several times, kicked her, and then dragged her to a cellar where Signor Rotolo had intended to let her die of thirst.

Jase had been forced to wait almost three days before he could get to her, and when he had found her, she was rabid and half drunk. Apparently, she had been sipping on wine to stay alive, and when she flew at him out of the darkness, he had known she would be okay.

Jase had even given up a really nice sports car for her so she could escape, not that she would appreciate that fact.

All she knew was that he had stood there and watched them beat her and done nothing. They would have killed us both, he insisted as he stared down at her tawny hair and green eyes.

In Banff, Jase had honestly been as addled as he had been in twenty years, since he was a young kid, and while trying desperately to keep Felicity Miller alive, Jase had not possessed the faculties to seek out Briel. He had been lucky she trusted him enough to deal with Brendon Miller, though no doubt her trust came from her clear recognition that he would do anything for Felicity. Hardly a recognition of his character.

Briel sucked in a breath and offered Jase a terse, unconvincing smile, and he forced his shoulders not to slump. There were very few people in the world whose opinion of him he cared about, but Briel was one. There were few people as talented as Jase who managed to hold on to moral fiber, and Briel was also one of those.

Just beyond the entry way into Briel's apartment, Jase could make out another figure, longer and lankier, seated in a relaxed posture on the couch. Apparently, she must be Drew's date. The rich earthen color of the woman's tresses hinted at a ruddy undertone when the flame from the fireplace licked along their subtle waves.

Though Jase could not see her face, he could appreciate the length of her soft, statuesque legs which she had crossed languidly before her. All in all, neither woman would have seemed at home in the hot, smelly gym Jase had visited earlier in the day.

Briel, guarding her doorway like a Rottweiler, barely hid her ire under a generic expression which seemed neither pleased nor disgusted. When Drew pushed past her without greeting, Briel's stoic demeanor finally slipped, and her irritation lashed out like a whip.

“Come on in,” she mumbled under her breath to Drew, and Jase couldn't resist a smirk. There’s my girl, he laughed.

“Hi, Briel,” Jase greeted her, and she seemed to read his amusement.

“Jase,” she offered, not suppressing her annoyance.

“So, what have you been doing since leaving Banff behind?” Briel begged unmercifully.

Was that really necessary? Briel could’ve guessed how he was doing, what with the loss of the first person he had cared about in twenty years. He guessed that was payback for the “snow” comment in Phoenix. The pain apex was comparable.

“Not much,” he hedged. “Just lamenting lost opportunities.”

Somehow, she was misreading him, if her gritting teeth meant anything. “So, Nessa says you're thinking about joining us. Not gonna get rich in my line of work.”

He deserved that, too. “There’s more to life than money,” he tried – not that she would believe him.

Briel scoffed. “More than money? For everyone but you, I imagine.”

Maybe he should resent her barbs, but he had forgotten what it was like to have someone around who wasn’t fooled by the façade, and he almost appreciated it. Not since Terrence died, he realized. “I see I taught you well, so, I pretty much deserve that.”

And in typical Briel fashion, she let her shock relax her hardline stubbornness, stepping back to let him in. That’s gonna cost you someday, Jase worried affectionately – the little spitfire. “Thanks,” he offered, noticing that she avoided his eyes.

She nodded stiffly, and Jase felt his shoulders relax. Still, he knew he couldn’t quit watching out for her – she knew entirely too much about him, and he didn’t intend to have his history spewed out in his new venue.

Interrupting Jase’s thoughts, Drew and his date made their way to the door.

Drew’s date. The woman Jase had admired from afar now stood before him, much prettier than her seated figure would have suggested. Somehow, he knew her, but he had no memory of how. She seemed shrouded by Felicity, and he couldn’t quite figure that out. For someone who had known as many women as Jase had, the superficial similarities signified nothing. The eyes, though. The expressions.

If he were honest, Felicity’s eyes had spoken tolerance and compassion. Strangely, when Drew’s date glanced up at Jase, her eyes offered forgiveness. He couldn’t explain it to himself. What could she know about him that required forgiveness? Likely, he was imagining things – he was new at trying to understand people beyond how they fit into whatever agenda he intended to accomplish. It was why he never let anyone grow too attached to him.

Shaking himself, he stepped aside to let the others lead out of the house.

“So, what you're saying is that the Impressionist movement was a backlash against the pseudo-religious authorities by a bunch of young rebels...” A few minutes later, Drew's date, Nessa, had struck into a vein of intense yet casual conversation with Jase.

The unusually lively eyes had lost their compassion, only to replace the expression with energy and enthusiasm. Her warm voice melded nicely with the clinking of glasses and hum of the chatter around them.

Nessa Santiago, despite her too shrewd eyes, had provided entertaining conversation. Watching her talk, Jase had the opportunity to notice how warm and soft her full lips seemed, though the girl's genuine personality drew him away from perusing her looks too intensely.

Her figure curved nicely, a certain softness rounding the curve of her hips underneath the fluid clinging fabric of her long shirt, but she hid the ample length of her legs in a none-too-tight pair of slacks.

With her modest clothing she wore a self-deprecating carriage that concealed the full effect of her femininity. If she had pressed her shoulders back a little, elongated her neck a tad, maybe lifted her chest in invitation, Nessa could possibly have rivaled Amélie for elegance and beauty.

Warm, warm, warm. Everything about her spoke, not fire or ice, but warmth and comfort and ease. Boring, his instincts accused, but Jase’s mind could not quite agree. Warm like poison, it told him. Insidious and alluring and perhaps irresistible.

Not yet, he reprimanded. Not so soon after Felicity.

Still, he could not escape the general sense of gratitude he felt toward the woman as he sat among an otherwise less-than-gregarious group of acquaintances. If Briel had provided Jase's only source of discourse, he would have sought escape from the night's plans within an hour. Briel, always guarded, restrained herself from engaging anyone in the group too intensely. Instead - to Jase's chagrin - she seemed intent on surreptitiously assessing him.

The contrast between Nessa and her friend struck Jase ironically, and not just their personalities. Briel spent little effort on her exterior, but unlike Nessa, Briel seemed to do so in defiance against Jase and anyone else who would impose his expectations of superficial beauty on her.

Still, few men could miss the allure of her taught figure and her strikingly lovely face. Nessa, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of herself, entirely too engaged in making everyone comfortable to waste effort on her facade. Sure, she looked amazing, but she seemed to have spent minimal time in making herself up; instead, her dark hair waved freely and the barest hint of color glossed her lips.

The rosy hue of her cheeks seemed completely unassisted by cosmetics. She drew him in casually, comfortably, and he kept finding himself lulled to pleasure almost against his will.

“Not exactly a backlash,” he continued the conversation, “I mean, the artists began painting that way before they considered their oppression. They just liked the style. The actual movement, though, was a group of like-minded people who wanted to feel legitimate about the works they painted. To them, no self-ordained authority held the key to 'true art.' Until Napoleon III got hold of the Impressionists, they wouldn't have been called a movement.”

The waitress returned to refill the drinks at the table, and she smiled a shy, coy smile in Jase's direction. When Jase smiled back, though without enthusiasm, the waitress splashed a small amount of water on Jase's jeans in her embarrassed pleasure.

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed, and her flirtation transformed into exclamations of apology. “I'm so sorry, sir!” The poor woman pulled out the clean towel at her waist and began a mad dabbing at his pants leg.

Pulling his mind together, he stood up nonchalantly.

“It's nothing,” he assured her. “Just a spot. Do you have hand dryers in the bathroom?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Right over there, sir.”

“I'll be right back,” he informed his party, as he strode around the edge of the bar on a quest to dry his jeans. As Jase walked, he reached down to assess the damage - it seemed minimal. Just as he glanced back up from his perusal, a massive form collided with him, and he looked up with surprise into a familiar face: the white-haired man from the gym.

“Excuse me,” the man began without looking up. When he beheld Jase, he halted immediately. “Jase Hamilton,” he exclaimed.

For a moment, Jase said nothing, unwilling to validate the man's assertion.

“You helped Briel on the last mission,” the near-stranger sneered for some reason, overemphasizing the word “helped.”

Now Jase knew why he had recognized the man when he had encountered him at the gym. “You were her partner, Liam,” Jase speculated aloud. Why did this man bring a prickling sensation to the back of Jase's neck?”

“Yes. I'm also her boyfriend.”

The assertion floored Jase. Wouldn't Nessa and Drew have informed Jase if his date had a boyfriend? Both seemed entirely above-board. Unlike them, however, Jase got a distinctly subversive feeling from the man before him.

“So, you're currently dating Briel?”

Without hesitation, the man stated icily, “We're taking a little break, but we'll get back together. Briel can be impulsive.”

Not the Briel I know. “I see,” Jase replied skeptically. “Well, you can come back to the table with me if you want. Some team members were showing me around, and Briel is with us.”

“No,” the tense operative replied too quickly. “I'm on my way out, and you were on your way somewhere.”

“It's no problem,” Jase assured him, amused by the way the man's neck and jaw clenched with his discomfort. “I'm sure they wouldn't mind the intrusion.”

“No,” Liam seemed almost angry at Jase's insistence. “I have to go. I can always call Briel when I'm not in a hurry, and I see Drew plenty.”

Jase shrugged internally, relegating the strange man to the back of his mind. “I'll see you around, then.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Yeah, see you,” the man agreed before dashing for the exit to the restaurant.

“Jase!” For a moment, Jase stood rooted to where he stood, staring at the room around him. The voice had not originated with Liam, yet the menacing op seemed to have triggered the memory of the voice. Jase forced himself to stop searching. Until he let the memory run its course, he knew he couldn't return to the table without looking insane.

“I can't help you!” Jase's mind answered the memory for the thousandth time.

“But...” Margaret began before Jase cut her off. He tried not to stare into the pretty brown eyes or to see how she clutched his pocketknife in her tiny hands.

When Jase had turned five, his father had gifted him the pocketknife, and Jase had carried it with him wherever he went. Seven years later, he had passed the knife on to his beautiful baby sister, a reminder to her to be prepared for danger at any moment.

“It can't protect you from everything,” Jase heard himself as he handed the knife over in his vision. “Someone bigger and stronger can come along, and in the end, you will lose if you always try to do what's right. You have to look out for yourself instead.”

“You don't really believe that,” an older version of Meg's memory replied. Even standing in a bar more than a decade after her death, her naivete infuriated him. If anyone lived by the credo of “self first,” it was Jase, and he had adopted it wholeheartedly. In fact, if Meg had lived by the same credo, she would still be alive.

Shaking the vision from his head, Jase turned and forced himself back to Briel, back to the table peopled by those who perhaps posed the greatest danger to him outside of his own mind. They threatened his stated philosophy by their very existence and their chosen occupation. Look out for yourself, he reiterated the words of the vision. Yes, Jase reminded himself again, if Meg had listened to me, she would be alive today.

Her exhortation had done little to convince him to travel the path of righteousness – her path; her death had validated his belief that he should look out for number one. After Meg, Jase only ever trusted himself. Whatever he undertook, he knew he could accomplish it. Whatever he wanted, he knew he could acquire by some means.

Only a relic of his conscience restrained him, and it sounded suspiciously like Meg's childish voice. When he listened to it, it said, “Men like you are the reason she is not alive.” Jase cut off the thought before it could fully form. Rather than deliberate over the conversation for the hundredth time, Jase forced himself to walk back to the table.

For the first time since their introduction, Nessa looked directly into his eyes. “Is everything okay?” she probed. Apparently, he hadn't waited long enough, but between his memory of Meg and Nessa's piercing eyes, Jase would rather face the external threat.

“Of course,” he answered casually.

“You look a little agitated. I'm sure the waitress didn't intend to do that.”

Jase breathed a sigh of relief. So, Nessa had some internal sensor that felt the emotions of those around her, but she didn't always correctly guess the emotions' source. By all means, he smirked. Attribute my upset to the waitress.

“I'm sure she didn't. It's fine,” he soothed, forcing himself to reign in the frustration that the memory of Meg had stirred.

To his relief, Nessa did not press, instead continuing where they had left off. She took up the conversation as if nothing had interrupted their discourse. After she had meandered down a bevy of interwoven topics, her ease led Jase to release the anxiety that had seemed to rule him as of late. Something about Nessa...

Even when she delved into her political views, Jase did not sense a ratcheting up of emotion, as usually happened in political discussions. Instead, she presented her opinions in the calmest, most unoffensive manner that Jase had ever seen on such topics. Contrary to what Jase would expect from her sentimental demeanor, Nessa did not hold simplistic ideas about fixing society but could speak intelligently on very complex issues.

After their discussion of art, she led Jase into the topic of authoritarian governments, winding through several similar motifs, and finally landing on a discussion of Big Brother and covert surveillance in the United States. Government, according to Nessa's philosophy, funded the discordant chaos of modern art because it undermined more traditional philosophies of life thus weakening the institution of the family and encouraging reliance on government. “It's a self-perpetuating system,” she claimed.

Truly complex, Jase mused, fascinated. He felt himself warming into the raised seat of the booth, completely relaxed by the easy conversation.

Without warning, though, an unexpected intrusion sent a glitch through his momentary calm. When he realized its source, he nearly laughed at the unlikely scenario. For the first time in the night, the otherwise silent Briel leaned in a little closer between the two raven heads, Jase's and Nessa's. “I have a question for you, Jase…” she interrupted. “Regarding your recent work in Banff.” Her demeanor in and of itself caught Jase's attention – Briel never hesitated.

Still, did she have to keep bringing that up? “My recent work in Banff?” he queried, not quite able to hide the pique behind his response. “What is it?” Jase cursed himself for his over-sensitivity. Had she actually intended a dig against him? Not likely, Jase forced himself to tone down his response.

“I just… Well, more Phoenix, I guess. A technical question. I know you installed cameras in the Miller home, but did you actually have to go into their house to do it? How easy would it have been to hack a computer instead, and use the internal camera?”

Had her question stemmed from the discussion of “Big Brother”? It seemed so completely random. At least she hadn’t mentioned Felicity by name. “It’s pretty easy, though it wasn’t my method with the Millers. The camera on a laptop or desktop has a more limited view than what I needed, but if you don’t have time or access to install cameras, an internal one on a laptop will give you at least some visual on a space.”

“Makes sense,” Briel noted with coolness. “And the same with a microphone, I imagine?”

“Of course,” Jase scoffed. “Just like the camera. Wait, are you looking to try this?” Jase glanced at Briel doubtfully. “You're not particularly known for your computer expertise. I could make you a thumb drive.”

What if someone had drugged her? Brainwashed her? Otherwise, what could dull her usually astute mind?

Briel balked, seemingly offended, but then quickly reigned in the emotion that had flitted through her eyes and answered, “No, I'm not going to try it. I'm just curious.”

“You are so lying.” The tone came from Briel's right, but it seemed so uncharacteristic that Jase looked twice to ensure that it had emanated from the mild-mannered Nessa - his second shock of the night. First, Briel's denseness, then Nessa's boldness.

Comically, when he looked into Nessa's face, she wore an expression of utmost horror, as if she had just crushed someone's kitten under her tire - she had said it, all right. Jase had to restrain a voluminous laugh. Even Drew, who had sat aloof, glaring at the trio from time to time, smirked appreciatively at Nessa's dismay.

“What?” Briel exclaimed, her shock seeming equal to Jase's.

Abashed, Nessa looked like she wanted to crawl into the space under the table. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

“Well, apparently you did...what did you mean by it? Why do you say I'm lying?” Briel wore an amused expression as she pressed her friend to continue.

“I say it because...” Nessa hesitated. “I think you're more than just curious. Something in your voice – this is important to you. But not professional – not for a case.” Of course, Nessa was dead-on, but he hadn’t expected it from her, the insight, the confrontation.

Somehow, Nessa had picked up on a nuance in Briel's story that Jase had not expected anyone else to catch. Maybe there was more to Nessa than just brains and beauty. Something lay hidden in the girl's mind that most people didn’t have. After Felicity, Jase couldn’t really hand a challenge, but perhaps he could stand a mystery.

“Nessa!” Briel protested, pulling Jase back to the scene before him. She seemed to think better of equivocating, which seemed smart with someone as astute as Nessa around. “It is for a case, though an unconventional one. I guess I have a vested interest of sorts.”

“Which is?” Jase demanded.

“On Wednesday, I checked my computer to see if I had a message from Sara. On the screen with Sara's message, I saw another message, one that should not have been there. I mean, I have several layers of security to block any unsolicited messages, but on my screen, I had a message from an unknown contact I hadn't authorized.” The look she leveled at Jase spoke her suspicion. “I think maybe someone from the mission is stalking me.”

“Stalking you?” wondered Nessa, obviously skeptical.

Maybe Nessa held too much loyalty to the team to consider them as suspects, but Jase certainly could believe it. Despite his desire to remain aloof, Jase found himself concerned with Briel's security. If her state of mind had proved so tenuous, she needed to fortify her defenses. Meg would be proud, he smiled sardonically, surprised at his level of emotional investment.

“On the company app,” she explained. “But the communication was strange – not threatening or manipulative, as far as I could tell. First, the person asked me how the coffee is in San Antonio, which is a little strange, but I didn't find anything menacing about it. Since the sender seemed to be offline, I couldn't respond, and I thought I might have to just call in Team security to strip my computer. I hate doing that, though, so I didn't do it right away. I thought maybe I could fix it myself.”

“Thus the questions for me?” Jase inferred.

“Thus the questions for you.” Briel agreed.

What if this guy was testing the water to ping her location? Or what if he intended to mess with her head, get under her skin so that he could manipulate her? Even worse, what if someone from ProtoComm had hunted her down. The company possessed resources competent enough to do so. Certainly, they hadn't liked her interference in the Miller case.

“But that’s not all,” she continued. “I turn my computer all the way off when I leave the house, but when I’m home, it’s set to go into hibernation when it's not used for a few minutes, but it comes out of it if I touch the keyboard. So, it's never really off. So, first and most importantly, I want to know how much of my life this person has monitored.”

Common sense would expect Briel to look concerned, but Jase could only read curiosity in her eyes. The fact seemed highly unsafe for someone like her.

“Secondly, though, I have to wonder why someone would contact me like this. It seems so indirect – almost cowardly, even. Unless it’s in some way related to my current case. It seems an obvious probability, since lots of people would like to have access to the information I have acquired over the years.”

Jase narrowed his eyes at her – was the comment somehow directed at him? She should know better. “But who keeps that kind of information on their computer? Anyone from the industry would know we keep important stuff offline. Businesspeople might not know that – even criminal enterprises may not know that. A personal contact would have no idea.” In other words, I’m not that stupid.

“That’s true. A lot of people wouldn’t understand how we run the business. I was thinking, though, that someone from ProtoComm who doesn’t understand the system, who wants to know what I have on the Emelia Alvarez case, might try to tap into my information, and when they found nothing, decide to investigate directly. I could see someone being concerned about corporate integrity after your defection, Jase. They know you left the cabin with my team.”

“I can’t imagine you would have anyone who would come after you personally,..” He couldn´t help himself a grin split his face. “But professionally, we have Banff. We have your current case. But you’ve worked a lot of successful campaigns over the past decade,” he pressed. “I wouldn’t get too stuck on one option. Even in your current case, ProtoComm is not the only interested party. ProtoComm is a middleman. Whoever your client is might have enemies. And despite what I said a minute ago, with someone like you, it could be personal. You’re not always the most tactful person, and I could see someone taking offense if he didn’t know you.”

“I don’t really need your theories on identity. Apparently, he had offended her. Was she still mad about Venice? “I’m trying to root out methods. I mean, if a man proves my enemy, he’ll be sorry. You have to know that I’m going to turn the table.”

“Tables, Bri. Turn the tables.” Had he really just said that? Did he think Briel was still his recruit? Briel was a conjunction of the two women, the familiar and the soothing, and apparently he had forgotten himself.

“Excuse me?” she challenged, her eyes sparking. No doubt he had just completed his descent in her opinion. “But even without Bill at ProtoComm, it’s a dangerous game, delving into their business.”

“That’s assuming this contact intends some kind of injury or insult,” Briel countered. “Even with the eavesdropping, the follow up message didn’t seem manipulative or agenda driven.”

“The follow-up message?” Nessa wondered.

“It was…well, like Jase said – personal,” Briel hedged. “You know the story, Nessa. You invited me out that first night, and then Liam came over, and I proceeded to break up with him…”

Wait, the Liam who had shown up unexpectedly at the restaurant where Briel was on a date with another man? That was concerning. When Briel didn’t go on, Jase’s suspicion grew.

Briel was a little daredevil – he had been shocked how much he’d had to slow her down for her own good when they were in training. Watching her now, her eye wore the same exhilaration it had so often worn back then. “So, did someone hack your microphone and camera?”

“Obviously…Because after my exchange with Liam, a message popped up on the computer saying to be cautious with him, as if the guy on the computer had heard the whole thing. So, of course, I had to search my room for planted surveillance equipment, and when I did, the guy responded by telling me not to waste my time looking for equipment because he didn't plant any. Which meant he could see me, too.”

Jase blew out a breath – this might be bad. Even Nessa picked up on, he realized when she finally spoke.

“Wow, that’s…” Nessa stuttered. “You said guy. Do you know for certain it's a man?”

“Well, no. I guess I just meant 'person.' You know, like, 'you guys'? But then he told me to watch out for Liam, which I also thought was strange.”

“Liam?” The guy who I just found hovering around his ex-girlfriend’s date? But she was on about the computer contact for the moment. “That is odd, unless he wanted to isolate you.”

“That’s an interesting idea…Unless it’s just base jealousy, if he’s a loser stalker, which is what I’m leaning toward.”

You’re barking up the wrong tree, little girl. Not to mention holding a blatant disregard for the guy’s obvious skill. “A loser stalker who hacked his way through Team security? Not likely. Team security is pretty famous in the community. I’m leaning toward the idea of isolating you.”

“Getting me away from Nessa would work better there – I was already isolating from Liam.”

Jase forced himself not to laugh. Nessa Santiago was highly intelligent, but he would not peg her as a good fit for personal protection. If someone wanted to attack Briel, Nessa might prove as much an incentive as a deterrent, since Briel would be distracted by her friend. He wouldn’t express his skepticism, though. “But the person might not have witnessed Nessa there, or he might be less intimidated by Nessa.”

“True. So, he might be playing mental games with me, but that leans toward the personal. If it is a professional hack, why would he communicate with me?” Briel pressed. “Or why not try to lure me into some business proposition or investigation – expose me somehow. It makes sense that, in our line of work, someone would want to monitor me. But wouldn't a professional want to remain undetected?”

“I would think so,” Nessa agreed. “It’s not the only option, but it would make more sense. And if they know you at all, they have to know that mind games wouldn’t work on you.” Apparently, Nessa didn’t know Briel quite as well as she thought – it was possible to mess Briel up pretty badly. Jase suppressed his guilt.

Briel seemed to confirm his worries as he watched her slow down her emotions. She blew out a breath. Though, apparently, Briel didn’t know herself too well, either. “Exactly. So, if this person is not what he says he is, then he is either a professional enemy or someone with a personal vendetta, but if that were the case, why play it this way at all?”

“It’s not the most logical,” Jase agreed.

“Well, whatever his plan, I intend to find out …”

“You’re putting the cart before the horse,” Jase instructed. “Your first order of business should be to protect yourself from this person, not waste time on an investigation. You need to wipe your digital signature.”

“But if the person has sought me out, then I want to know who he is. Someone who could do this could just find me again – or seek me out in person. I don't want this mysterious thing hanging out there to jump at me unexpectedly.”

“I would want to know,” Nessa concurred.

“And, I'm not getting rid of the computer,” Briel insisted.

Jase knew he wouldn’t win the argument. He didn’t have enough of an opinion either way. “So, if you won’t wipe your equipment, unplug the camera if it’s external and uninstall the mic,” Jase shrugged. “...but keep up the conversation. If you're going to protect yourself, you need to understand the threat. Message him, then you can search for clues to his identity while you talk. Also, if you'll let me see your laptop, I might be able to backtrace his location from the connection.”

As Jase tried to pierce through her mind with his eyes, Briel turned and locked his gaze. Apparently, she did not intend to divulge any more information to him. Every time he mentioned one of his suspicions, Briel dismissed the possibility.

Though she had opened the conversation, she refused to continue it beyond the questions she had asked. Afraid to reveal too much? Jase accused silently. From the moment their eyes met, Briel turned the conversation away from her computer, and Jase could find no inroad to reopen it.

“Did you ever remove that virus that had infiltrated your computer?” Briel addressed Nessa nonchalantly.

“Well,” Nessa allowed the change of topic, smiling over at her date. “Drew took care of it for me. He said he didn't want me to take the time to learn in this instance because an infiltration in our profession could cost someone's life.”

Briel nodded reluctantly. “I guess I could see his point.”

“But he's promised to teach me how to remove it myself. I'm not bad with computers, so he doesn't think it will take long.”

“She's naturally very good with computers,” Drew corrected.

Jase waited impatiently for an opportunity to interrupt the conversation and bring it back to Briel, but she adroitly repelled his every attempt. Since the group had long since finished eating, Jase held little hope that he would successfully bring the topic up again.

Before he could come up with a plan, the waitress sauntered over with the change from their bill. Even without her conspicuous flirtation, Jase had intended to leave her a generous tip - she had never quite recovered from her earlier mishap. After glancing up into the woman's face, though, Jase's concentration fled, and he just threw some money down on the table.

Felicity's eyes. The woman had Felicity's eyes, or something nearing an approximation. They were blue. They were beautiful. You’re seeing things, he reminded himself. It had happened for days after he had said goodbye to her. After their final kiss on the caye.

When he blinked back at the woman, the effect was gone. Besides the lovely blue color, there was no resemblance. Jase thought he had finally left that behind.

Not while you’re dreaming it every night. Jase needed to get out of that restaurant, so he stood to his feet and turned toward the door. Briel followed immediately, as if she, too, wanted to escape, but Jase hardly noticed. Once out the door, Jase led the group into the warm night; his enthusiasm for any endeavor had fled, replaced by a mix of confusion and frustration. His mind could not escape the shackles of Felicity too soon.