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Instead, Fuches charges forwards. “What gives you the right to decide who deserves privacy?”

“You were at a swingers club, gentlemen. Why did you expect privacy?”

“How can you work for such awful people?” Fuches asks.

“We all make our choices. I suggest you learn to live with yours,” I say, in an even tone. Which is really not the way to calm him down.

But it’s the truth.

I live with what I’m doing to Matteo.

He lives with what he’s doing to me.

Fuches lives with his choice to cheat on his wife.

I motion to my blackmailee’s jacket. “One routing number and I’m happy to go to your hotel.”

Fuches pulls out the envelope just enough I can see it clearly, then he slides it back into his pocket, takes a pen from his pants, and scribbles a name and number on a cocktail napkin.

It’s one of the random accounts I picked to hide our true goals, so I pretend to memorize the info, slide the napkin into my jacket pocket and motion after you. “Lead the way, Mr. Fuches.”

He walks through the crowd on the rooftop with shaky steps. Matteo follows.

I stay half a step behind.

Matteo slows, so we’re in line. He leans in close enough to whisper, “what if this is a trap?”

“We can take him, and you’re the police. How could he trap us?” I ask.

“Shit happens,” Matteo says.

I smile because he sounds like me. And like him too.

“I trust you,” I reply.

His brow softens. His shoulders relax.

He reaches for my hand. Lets his fingers brush my palm.

My stomach fills with butterflies.

I let myself soak in the feeling for a moment. Then I shift into my role.

He moves faster, so he’s keeping pace with Fuches.

I hang pack.

Our blackmailee leads us into the boutique hotel, through the blue and white lobby, up the marble stairs to the third floor.

He settles as he pulls his key and unlocks room 313.

Inside, the space is clean and comfortable. Queen bed. Huge mirror. A window looking out on the hills. All clean and untouched, save a small overnight bag by the door.

I step inside.

Matteo closes the door behind me.

Fuches pulls a gun from his pocket. “Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you and end this now?”