"The gym said Costa is on vacation. Won't say when he'll be back."
"So everyone is disappearing," she muttered.
Jason turned to Alina. "Any progress on the bomb components?"
"ATF traced the materials to three different suppliers across two states. All purchased with cash over the past six months. No security footage, no leads."
"And Samantha's case files?" Jason continued.
"The DA's office is still deciding how many files to send over, but we have some information on the current case," Alina replied. "It involves an accounting firm accused of fraud on behalf of their clients. The biggest name on the client list belongs to Armen Petroysan, as Kara mentioned the other day. But there's no sign Samantha had any personal contact with him."
"What about her phone?" Kara asked. "Are we into it yet?"
"Unlocked it this morning," Wes said. "Going through it now, but preliminary review shows normal texts and calls. Work stuff, personal messages with Dominic and her sister. The one text to Max Malone about meeting at the café. But they had no further contact."
"All right, let's keep digging," Jason said. "Someone wanted Samantha Barkley dead, and they're still out there. Jonas Cray's murder proves they're willing to kill to cover their tracks."
The team dispersed, and Kara returned to her desk, feeling the weight of too many questions and not nearly enough answers.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Max: Need to meet. May have a potential lead.
She stared at the message, then typed: What is it?
Not sure. Meeting at one thirty with one of Samantha's friends, if you want to join.
I'm in, she typed.
Max texted her the address for a diner in Chelsea. As she jumped to her feet, Tyler looked up from the computer next to her. "Did you get something?"
"I'm not sure. Max says he's meeting with one of Samantha's friends and invited me to join him, so I'm going. I'll text you when I know more."
Lou's Place was a classic New York diner—vinyl booths, laminate tables, and a menu that probably hadn't changed in a couple of decades. Max was already there when Kara arrived, sitting in a back booth with a cup of coffee in front of him. He was gazing down at his phone, which gave her a moment to see him without him seeing her, to quickly relive last night's unexpectedly passionate kiss, one that should never be repeated.
He lifted his head, as if sensing her stare, and she gave him a brief smile and then slid into the booth across from him. "Hi."
"Hello," he said, his sexy mouth curving into a smile that made her heart thump against her chest.
She'd spent most of the night trying to tell herself he was really not that good-looking, the kisses they'd shared had not been that great, that it had just been too much expensive champagne…but all those excuses seemed completely stupid now that she was sitting across from him again and feeling that same surge of desire that had made her act so recklessly the night before.
His gaze darkened, and she realized too late that she was staring at him. Judging by the expression in his stunning green eyes, he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Clearing her throat, she said, "So, I'm here."
"I can see that."
She felt like a fool for suddenly feeling so tongue-tied. For God's sake, she was a federal agent, and she was meeting him because he had a lead on a case. She needed to get a grip. "Who are we meeting?"
"Claire Donnelly," he said. "You should probably sit on this side with me, so we can both see her face, assess what she has to say."
The last thing she wanted to do was slip onto that bench seat next to him. "I'll move when she gets here."
A knowing gleam entered her eyes. "Afraid you might kiss me again?"
"You kissed me."
"I think you made the first move."
"I did not. And I don't want to talk about it. It was a mistake."
