Reeve drew out a cigarette but didn’t light it. “I trust your judgment.”

“We have two weeks to stop him, or to convince him that I’ve done what he wants.”

It was his family, his heart, yet he knew he had to think as coolly as she did. “Is he setting you up?”

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s certainly possible that he’d dispose of me after I’ve finished the job, but I think it’s more likely he’d continue to use me. We did a good job of planting information about me, and over the past two years I’ve saved him a bit of trouble and money. If he believes I can give him this, he’ll sit back and wait.”

“Armand will have to be told.”

“I know.” But not Bennett. Armand and only Armand.

“For now, just go on as usual.” He indicated that she should drive ahead. “We’ll need some time.”

“Eve’s opening is in a few days.”

“We’ll handle it. You get some sleep. As soon as we have a direction, I’ll let you know.”

Hannah got out of the car, then as Reeve stood on the other side she stopped. “I want him. I want him for myself. I know it’s unprofessional and stupid. But if I have the chance, if I find the way, I’m going to take him out myself.”

Reeve said nothing as she walked up the steps. He’d already vowed the same thing.

Chapter 8

“I don’t want you to go tonight.”

“You know I have to.” Eve stood, grim and stubborn, facing her husband. “It’s my play, my troupe, my production. I don’t have a choice, Alex.”

“Excuses can be made.” He looked at her, dressed in midnight blue that skimmed her shoulders and swirled to her ankles. Her hair was caught up in the back so that it fell over one shoulder like ebony. Even after all the years he’d known her, just looking at her made his pulse race. “You know how dangerous it could be. With the information we have now, we can be sure there’ll be an incident tonight. I don’t want you involved.”

“I am involved.” She was frightened. Ever since Reeve had told them that he’d received a tip that there would be trouble at the theater on opening night, her nerves had been stretched tight. Yes, she was frightened, but she was no less determined. She crossed to the beveled mirror above the bureau as if checking the arrangement of her hair was of some importance. “I wrote the play, I produced it, and more important than either of those,” she continued before he could interrupt, “I belong at the theater tonight because I’m your wife.”