Eliot had his phone in his hand before Kai pulled away from the curb. He kept his eyes down as she drove past; something about the way she'd looked at him after arresting Flores, like Eliot had disappointed her, bothered him more than it should have. She didn't know him. She didn't have the right to expect anything from him. But she was Alex's friend, and he didn't want anything he did to affect their friendship.

He tapped Hardison's name on his screen, scowling while it rang.

"Hey. You ready to—?"

"Dammit, Hardison," Eliot growled. "I thought you were monitoring mentions of us online."

"Yeah, I—I am. Of course I am. I mean, my software is, and it's better than—ain't nobody finding you online, Eliot. What's going on?"

"Flores knew about me. He knew about my reputation, my—"

Hardison sputtered. "I can't hack reputations, man. If he's heard of you, there's nothing I can do about it."

"He hadn't just heard of me, he recognized me. After our meeting."

"What do you—you met again?"

He gave Hardison a brief explanation of Flores's latest actions, working through the details as he spoke them. Something wasn't sitting right. Why would Flores send men to kill them and then show up a few hours later to do the job himself? In public, no less. And why only send two if he really knew Eliot's reputation? It didn't make any sense.

"I don't know how he recognized you," Hardison said once Eliot had finished. "But it wasn't on the web. I'm searching now, and I don't see anything that could have tied Marc Rosen to you. Not even a picture. Flores would have needed facial recognition software more powerful than what you got from Cheng. It's impossible."

"Obviously not," Eliot said.

"Look, man, you can't blame everything on tech. He could have just recognized you from the old days."

"No," Eliot said. "I've never met him before. I'm sure of it."

"Okay... then someone who was with him, maybe."

"There was no one else there."

"I don't know," Hardison said. "Give me some time to look into things. But either way, sounds like it all worked out. Flores was arrested, right?"

"Right."

"Then you're done. I'll get you a flight out in the morning."

That fit with Kai's plan—and his own. This hadn't turned out to be the relaxing trip he'd hoped for when Hardison told him he had a job in the Philippines. The reunion with his brothers had been as disastrous as he'd always feared it would be, and he was eager to leave the island and get back to his team, back to the people who'd welcomed him, who'd helped him grow, who'd become his home.

Maybe it was time to accept that they were the only family he would ever have.

"Okay." Eliot cleared his throat, his eyes wandering toward the cloudless sky. "Thanks, Hardison."

"Uh-huh. I'll text you the details."

Hardison ended the call, and Eliot was left holding his phone in one hand with a warm ice pack and a cold coffee in the other. The sun was high overhead and hot on his shoulders, and though there was shade cast by a building just a few feet away, he stayed where he was. A warm, inviting smell wafted toward him from a food cart on the corner of the street, reminding him that he hadn't eaten yet. Any other time he would have been excited to try the local cuisine—it was his favorite part about traveling—but he didn't think he'd be able to appreciate it now. No, best to just go back to his hotel and eat something quick and simple while preparing for the flight home. Then he'd go and see his brothers.

With a plan laid out, Eliot found his way back to his hotel and trudged into his room, resisting the urge to collapse onto the bed. He was tired, more tired than he had a right to be. There had been jobs that required him to stay up for days at a time, and now he was ready for bed at noon? Maybe he could blame it on jetlag. Maybe the humidity was getting to him.

He refused to consider any other reasons.

Sighing, Eliot walked into the living area of his room—Hardison had set him up in a suite, despite the fact that he didn't plan on spending much time in the hotel—and paused. Something was different. None of his things had been moved... his bag still sat on the coffee table, his extra pair of shoes tucked beneath one chair, his jacket thrown over the arm of the couch. He listened, filtering out to the sound of a vacuum running in the room next door, the voices of a couple passing through the hall. Everything seemed in order, but he knew better than to dismiss a gut feeling that something was wrong.

So he reached casually for his jacket and slipped his left arm through the sleeve, his eyes on the dark TV screen. There was a blur of movement in the reflection, and he ducked as something swung toward the back of his head. He twisted, throwing the jacket into the face of his attacker and following it with a punch.

The assailant staggered, rubbing his jaw and stumbling over Eliot's jacket as it fell. "Your reputation is not exaggerated," he said.

Eliot frowned. "Flores?"

Flores inclined his head. "You seem surprised to see me."

What the hell? Flores should have been in jail by now. If he'd escaped, why come to Eliot's hotel instead of getting off the island?

"What do you want?" Eliot growled, listening for any other intruders. He didn't hear anything, but he didn't let his guard down.

"Just to talk," Flores said. He bent and picked up Eliot's jacket, holding it out with a smile. "We were almost business partners, after all."

When Eliot didn't take the jacket, Flores tossed it onto the chair. "You still want to make a deal?" Eliot asked.

"Why not? I assume you have some useful connections. I'd make it worth your time."

Eliot crossed his arms over his chest. "My time is very expensive."

"So I hear."

"How'd you escape custody?" Eliot asked. The sudden image of a cop finding Kai's body in her car flashed through his mind, and he tensed reflexively.

"Custody?" Flores asked. "Hmm. That is disappointing. Well, not to worry, it will correct itself soon enough."

"What?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure your partner is quite safe. I'm not a violent man by nature."

"You tried to abduct her at gunpoint," Eliot said, more confused than ever. "And you just tried to attack me."

"And failed," Flores pointed out cheerfully.

What the hell was going on? Nothing about this situation made any sense, and the fact that Flores wasn't giving him straight answers only increased Eliot's frustration. He wanted Flores out of his room, out of this city, out of commission. He wanted this whole thing to be over.

"You have one minute to change my mind," Eliot said.

"To change it from what?"

"From deciding to throw you through the window."

"No need to be hasty," Flores said. "What's your going rate? I'll double it."

Going rate? Eliot hadn't had a going rate in over a decade. How could Flores know his reputation but not know he'd been out of the game for that long? "For setting you up with a buyer?" Eliot asked.

"That's right," Flores said. "And ensuring I don't run into any more overzealous detectives."

"You want me to be your body guard."

Flores grinned, still rubbing the side of his face. "A body guard, yes... who occasionally eliminates a threat before it becomes too threatening."

"And you thought the best way to offer me a job was to send men to kill me and then attack me yourself?" There had to be some other angle, some other game Flores was playing. It just didn't make any sense.

"Consider it an audition," Flores said. "What do you think?"

Eliot thought he was insane, but if Flores was going to offer him a way to salvage the job, he had to take it. "How do I contact you?" he asked.

"My number's on this," Flores said, setting a business card on the table and backing toward the door. "Call me once you've communicated with your buyers. I want to move forward with our original plans and be off the island in three days."

Eliot stayed where he was, watching Flores shut the door behind him and listening to his footsteps fade down the hall.

Then he counted to sixty, stuffed the business card in his pocket, and followed him out the door.