“I attend all sorts of high-level financial meetings,” said the tall man with an air of accomplishment. “I’m in a position where I’ll be judged not only by what I say and do but the image I portray. It’s critical that I look like a million bucks.”

Gabriela looked down at his hands and saw he was wearing a gold wedding band. “With your well-developed physique, you must work out a lot,” she said breathlessly, “it won’t be difficult to find the right clothing to make you stand out in a crowd. I hope you’ll let me be your personal fashion consultant. I have an excellent eye. You can ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth.”

“Anything?” said the man, playing along.

Gabriela smiled and laughed. Her mark had taken the bait. “Anything,” she purred as she took him by the arm and walked him over to the suit racks.

With the skills of a crackerjack reporter, Gabriela casually interviewed the tall man without him realizing he was being evaluated. She learned he was married but had no kids. Perfect. He lived in Manhattan, worked in finance and like her, enjoyed nice things. As she rang him up at the register, counting her hefty commission, she asked him if he’d be needing any more assistance.

“Actually,” said the tall man with a wink, “I’ll need a lot of assistance from you. I have to get a whole new wardrobe. New job, new look.”

“Then, of course I must help you, just like I did today,” she said. “I get off in twenty minutes, would you like to go for a coffee so we could discuss your needs in more detail. That way I could put a collection together for you and have it ready for the next time you come in.”

“It’s nearly five,” said the tall man, his breath shallow as he drank in every inch of her. “How about a glass of wine instead?”

“I adore wine. That sounds perfect. Meet me at the bar in the lobby of the Hyatt on 42nd Street in half an hour,” said Gabriela with a smile. As she turned and walked away, she felt his eyes on her and wondered if she might have just met her next husband. From that first meeting, she was fairly sure he’d do just about anything she asked. Which was good because one day, she’d ask him to kill for her.

25

Settled on her couch that evening with her glass of bourbon and Jeopardy on the TV, Zoe waited for her husband’s nightly call. Conner had been in the FBI for fifteen years and held a variety of positions, some more dangerous than others. Two years before they met, he had been held at gunpoint for ten hours by an unhinged cracked-out drug dealer. After that, Conner decided to move into a less physically dangerous division.