“Thanks, I know what a database is,” Allison said. “As long as I’m doing the work, could I ask what the database is for?”

“I guess so. Once the partnership’s drawn up, the contracts will be transferred to Edgeway. The clients will be given new contracts to sign. The database will be used for tracking.”

“I see. Will I have any trouble accessing the digital file?”

“Your login and password are your first initial and last name. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, I will.” Allison finished her coffee and logged into the computer. From the front office, she could hear Monica on the phone, punctuating her conversation with that inane, high-pitched giggle. She was tempted to close the door of her office, but on second thought decided to leave it open. She was here to learn, and she was already learning plenty.

Kaplan, the Mob lawyer, had become a regular at the agency. He and Garrett were already taking bids on the remodeling of the American Heartland. And Edgeway would be taking over the agency as well. Clients who accepted the new contracts would be unknowingly signing their souls over to the Mob.

The days when she could protect Burke from the truth were over. She’d promised to tell him everything she found out. When he learned what Garrett and his cohorts were up to, her husband would be livid.

Setting her resolve, she started on the database. She’d expected the work to be drudgery, but she soon discovered that each contract had a story behind it. These clients were show business people—singers, dancers, musicians, and actors; stand-up comics, acrobats, and magicians. The paperwork gave her intriguing glimpses into their lives.

What would happen to these people if the Mob were to take over their contracts?

It was almost four o’clock when she looked up to see Garrett standing in the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, an amused grin on his face.

Startled, Allison stifled a gasp. “How long have you been here?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Long enough to see that you’re really into this job. How about we break for an early dinner—or a late lunch, if you want to call it that? We can relax and talk over a good steak and a glass of wine.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Allison was faking her enthusiasm. She didn’t relish the thought of an intimate dinner with Garrett, but she needed to hear what he had to say.

She’d promised to tell Burke everything she learned. Her husband was bound to be upset, but it was high time she stopped treating him like an invalid. He deserved to know the truth.

“You can shut down the computer,” Garrett said. “After we’ve had dinner, I’ll just let you off at your car.”