Midnight Fear by Leslie Tentler

months ago.”
    She searched his eyes. His mysterious absence from the FBI now made sense. “You must have been terrified.”
    “I got through it. We did, actually. My family and I.”
    “I’m glad.” Caitlyn reached up, her fingers lightly caressing his temple. Reid briefly closed his eyes at her touch.
    “Bolt your door behind me, Caitlyn,” he said when she lowered her hand. He took a reluctant step back.
    She nodded. With a final look at him, she closed the door and slid the bolt into place. Caitlyn remained in the suite’s vestibule until she heard the chime that signaled the arrival of the elevator to take him downstairs. Then, walking to one of the windows, she stared out at the city lights. The realization that someone as strong and vital as Reid could also be vulnerable was deeply troubling to her…as were her unsteady emotions. There was little point in denying to herself that she wanted him. But who she was—and who he was—meant the cards were stacked so very high against them.
    Caitlyn believed Reid understood that, too.

12
    T he man stood on the hotel plaza, gazing up at the illuminated exterior. He scanned each window, wondering which room was hers.
    She was a honey-blonde, too. Just like his wife had been. He had gotten a good look at her today, at least until she noticed him and he had been forced to retreat back into the pulsating crowd.
    The night had gotten colder, the relative warmth of the sunny fall afternoon disappearing as blue sky faded to evening. Pulling the thin jacket more tightly around his chest, he tried to ignore his feet that hurt from hours of following her around the District.
    Seeking a distraction, he closed his eyes and concentrated on her cool beauty, thinking of her oval face with its delicate features and graceful ballerina’s neck. But her image distorted until it became someone else entirely. Someone who was even more beautiful to him. He saw his wife—laughing at the beach on a summer weekend, helping their daughters wrap presentsat Christmas. Cooing over the West Highland puppy he’d given her on their tenth anniversary. The memories wrapped around him until he felt dizzy with anger and need.
    I’m so tired, he thought, grinding the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t been home in two days.
    When he looked again, the valet under the hotel portico was holding open the glass doors, revealing the posh lobby and its sparkling chandeliers.
    Reid Novak walked outside.
    They had crossed paths before in the federal court-rooms—on business and on another more intensely personal matter. He stepped back into the shadows, watching as the FBI agent tipped the valet and drove off in an SUV. By all accounts, Novak was a good officer, fiercely intelligent and possessing a high moral character. Which made his involvement with her even more confusing.
    He of all people had to understand she was tainted by evil, didn’t he?
    But when the man had trailed them from the restaurant back to the hotel, he’d noticed the way Novak’s hand lingered against the small of her back. He felt a wave of hurt and betrayal.
    Peering up again at the hotel facade, his eyes were drawn to a corner room on the third floor. Golden light emanated from its arched window, silhouetting the slender figure of a woman who looked out. He couldn’t make out her face at this distance, but her hair was longand blond. His fingers curled tightly against his palms, his unkempt nails pressing half moons into his flesh. The unfairness of it nearly choked him.
    “I want my wife back,” he whispered into the darkness.

13
    “A gent Novak.” Hal Feingold tipped his pilsner glass toward Reid, who had entered the wood-paneled Ambassador Bar near Capitol Hill. “You saved me a trip.”
    “And how’s that?” Reid took a stool at the bar next to the former reporter. He’d already been by Feingold’s house and was told by his wife where to find him. Judging by the cell phone on