Darlene’s mouth was dry with tension. She was defying the man she had married, and about to deceive the people who had been sworn to protect her at any and all cost. But her friend since childhood and more recently her professional soul mate had been destroyed—framed. And now, the man she and Kim called Double M wanted her help at least to clear Russ Evans’s name.

Why? With nothing tangible, what does he expect I can do?

Darlene pushed the questions to the back of her mind. It was imperative that she remain sharp—aware of everything and everyone around her. Slipping free of Ochoa and his crew was not going to be easy, even though only he and a female agent named Bonnie would actually be in the theater, seated in the back.

Darlene wore a pair of tinted glasses with thick white frames, and an auburn, shoulder-length wig beneath a gold print satin scarf. The outfit was one of several—the most effective, in fact—that she used when she wanted to keep gawkers and disrupters to a minimum. In addition, she had on a pair of faded blue jeans and a brown leather jacket with the Hard Rock Cafe emblem sewn onto the back.

Ochoa handed Kim and Darlene their tickets. “Bonnie and I will be in the back,” he said. “Just make sure you take the seats we’ve designated for you.”

“Sorry it’s not your type of movie, Victor,” Kim said. “My girlfriend told me that there are no car chases, and no one gets shot.”

“Hey, I like sweet, endearing romantic comedies as much as the next guy who gets paid to carry a gun.”

Darlene hooked her chief of staff’s arm and, eyes down, escorted her into the theater and down to two seats on the side aisle. There were fifteen or so other patrons scattered throughout the remaining seats, but none anywhere near the two of them. The film, nearing the end of its run before DVD, seemed to have been carefully chosen by Double M, and to this point, at least, no one appeared to be paying any attention to them.

“How are you holding up?” Kim whispered without turning.

“I don’t have butterflies flying around in my stomach,” Darlene said, “if that’s what you mean.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“I have buzzards.”

“Oh.”

“What if this is a bad idea? A trap of some sort. Terrorists.”

“Double M is incredibly resourceful and inventive. I think if he wanted to get to you, he could have done it already. No, he wants your help, and if you want to help Russ, you’re going to have to trust him—at least this once.”

The on-screen ads had given way to the previews. Subtly, Darlene glanced down at her wristwatch. “One hour to go,” she whispered.

“Keep your eyes on the screen,” Kim said, giving Darlene’s hand a squeeze.