Quietly putting it on, I pad barefoot into the bathroom. My stomach, still unsettled from dinner, roils with nausea again, and I have to swallow several times to keep the food from coming back up.

It’s probably not the best idea to do this when I’m feeling sick. I know that—but I also know that if I don’t do this now, I may not have the courage to attempt it later. And I need to do this. I need to fulfill my promise, to repay the debt I owe Peter. It’s important to me. I don’t want to be the girl who can’t take any action on her own, the wife who always lives in her husband’s shadow.

I don’t want to be Julian’s helpless little pet for the rest of my life.

Splashing cold water on my face, I take several deep breaths to quell my nausea and walk back into the bedroom. The shades are open just a sliver, but the moon is full tonight, and there’s enough light for me to see where I’m going.

My destination is the dresser, on top of which Julian’s laptop is sitting. He doesn’t always bring the computer into the bedroom, but he did tonight—which is another reason why I don’t want to wait to implement my plan.

The plan itself is beyond simple. I’m going to take the laptop, access Julian’s email, and send the list to Peter. If everything goes well, Julian won’t find out about this for a while. And by the time he does, it will be too late. I will have repaid my debt to Julian’s former security consultant, and my conscience will be clear.

Well, as clear as it can be knowing that Peter will likely kill the people on that list in horrifying ways.

No, don’t think about it. I remind myself that those people are responsible for the deaths of Peter’s wife and son. They’re not innocent civilians, and I shouldn’t think of them as such.

The only thing I should worry about at the moment is getting the list to Peter without waking up Julian.

I walk across the room as quietly as I can, my heart thumping heavily in my chest. When I reach the dresser, I stop and listen.

All is quiet. Julian must still be asleep.

Biting my lip, I reach for the laptop and pick it up. Then I pause to listen again.

The room is still silent.

Exhaling slowly, I walk back toward the bathroom, cradling the laptop against my chest. When I get there, I slip inside, lock the door behind me, and sit down on the edge of the Jacuzzi.

So far, so good. Ignoring the churning in my stomach, I open the laptop.

A password request box pops up.

I take another deep breath, fighting my worsening nausea. I expected this. Julian is paranoid about security and changes his password at least once a week. However, the last time he changed it was the day after Frank, Julian’s CIA contact, emailed him the list.