Rising, he took the phone with him, walked to the other end of the living room.

“Talk him out of this.” Fine shifted that hard stare to Lila again.

“I couldn’t, and at this point I can’t try. This gives him—us—a good chance to end it. We have to end it, and it doesn’t end, not for Ash, if he doesn’t get some justice for his brother and his uncle. He’ll feel responsible for what happened to them for the rest of his life without that.”

“I don’t think you understand the risk you’re taking.”

“Detective Fine, I feel I’m taking a risk every time I walk out the door. How long could you live with that? The woman wants us dead—whether her boss does or not. I saw it, I felt it. We want a chance to live our lives, to see what happens next. That’s worth the risk.”

“Tomorrow.” Ash walked back, laid the phone on the table again. “Two o’clock, at his Long Island estate.”

“There goes Luxembourg,” Lila said, and made Ash smile at her.

“Less than twenty-four hours?” Waterstone shook his head. “That’s cutting it damn thin.”

“I think that’s part of the point, and why I agreed. It should tell him I want this done, and now.”

“He thinks you’ll ask for millions,” Lila pointed out. “What you will ask is going to take him by surprise. And it’s going to intrigue him.”

He crouched down beside her chair. “Go to the compound. Let me do this.”

She took his face in her hands. “No.”

“Argue that later,” Waterstone advised. “We’re going to talk about what you’ll do, won’t do, and if it gets that far, the where and when for the trade.” He glanced at Fine. “You better call the boss, see about a way to keep them wired in, if there is one, and how we set it up from our end.”

“I don’t like any of it.” She rose. “I like you, both of you. I wish to hell I didn’t.” She took out her phone, walked away to call her lieutenant.

The minute they were alone, Lila let out a huge, huffing breath. “God, all that fried my brain. Checkpoints and code words and procedures. I’m going to do the next coat on the powder room—manual labor helps fried brains—before the FBI tech guys get here. We’re going undercover for the FBI. I really need to get a book out of this. If I don’t, someone else will, and I’m not going to let that happen.”

She pushed out of the chair. “What do you say we just order pizza later? Pizza’s food you don’t have to think about when your brain’s tired.”

“Lila. I love you.”

She stopped, looked at him, felt that now familiar lift and squeeze of her heart. “Don’t use that to try to persuade me to stay behind. I’m not going to be stubborn, not going to wave my feminist flag—though I could. The fact that I’m going, absolutely need to go, should tell you something about what I feel for you.”

“What do you feel for me?”

“I’m figuring it out, but I know there’s no one else I’d do this for or with. No one else. Do you remember that scene from Return of the Jedi?”

“What?”

She closed her eyes. “Please don’t say you haven’t seen the movies. Everything falls apart if you haven’t seen Star Wars.”

“Sure I’ve seen the movies.”

“Thank you, God,” she murmured, opened her eyes again. “The scene,” she continued, “on the forest moon of Endor. They’ve got Leia and Han pinned down outside the storm trooper compound. It looks bad. And he glances down, she shows him her weapon, then he looks at her and says he loves her. She says—she smiles and says—‘I know.’ She didn’t say it back. Okay, she said it first in The Empire Strikes Back before Jabba the Hutt had him frozen in carbonite, but taking just that scene on Endor, it showed they were in it together—win or lose.”

“How many times have you seen those movies?”

“That’s irrelevant,” she said, a bit primly.

“That many. So you’re Princess Leia and I’m Han Solo.”

“For the purposes of this illustration. He loved her. She knew it, and vice versa. It made them both braver. It made them stronger. I feel stronger knowing you love me. I never expected to. I’m trying to get used to it—just like you asked.”

She slid her arms around him, swayed a little. “When I say it to you, you’ll know I mean it, would mean it even, maybe especially, if we were pinned down by storm troopers on the forest moon of Endor with only a single blaster between us.”

“And somehow I find that the most touching thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“The fact you do . . . I’m trying to get used to knowing you understand me, and love me anyway.”

“I’d rather be Han Solo than a shiny fish.”

She laughed, drew back to look up at him. “I’d rather be Leia than someone who’s looking to hook one. So I’m going to go back to faux painting the powder room, work with the FBI, then eat pizza. We’re leading fascinating lives right now, Ash—and yes, we want the middle part of that done and over. But I’m a big believer in making the most out of where you are while you’re there. And”—she gave him a squeeze before stepping back—“it’s going to work. Just like it worked for Leia and Han.”

“You won’t have . . . What was her weapon again?”

“I can see you need a Star Wars marathon evening, as a refresher. A blaster.”

“You won’t have one of those.”

“I have something else she had. I have good instincts, and I have my own Han Solo.”

He let her go because part of him thought she was right. They’d be stronger together. Thinking of that, of her, he went up to his studio to finish her portrait.

Lila made a point of going to the gallery the next morning. Ash insisted on going with her, then peeled off to give her and Julie time alone in Julie’s office.

“You’re going to tell me something I don’t want to hear.”

“Probably. Ash is going to the bakery to talk to Luke. You’re my closest friend in the world, so I need to tell you, and I need to ask you.”

“You’re going to see Vasin.”