Trent was finding it hard to focus on his case after what Margo had told him at lunch. So she was going back undercover. It sounded like a pretty low-risk assignment: someone was blackmailing people in a gated community. She and another agent were going to pretend to be a married couple and see if they could narrow down the list of suspects. The rich always had secrets to protect. Margo said that she was cleared for this kind of assignment, but Trent just didn't think she was ready. And he loved her so much he didn't think he would be able to stand it if she had to put her life on the line again. And now they were fighting about him not trusting her and her being reckless, when all Trent really wanted to do was tell her how much she meant to him.

Finally, he forced himself to work on this case. Kim owed him for this, he decided. The problem with the internet was that a person could completely reinvent themselves. There was no description, no name, not even a fake identity to trace through records! The only concrete clue Trent had were the IP addresses Kim had found, which corresponded to some cyber cafés around town, a large corporation, and a laptop computer. Whoever JC9758 was, he did not want to be traced. At least this presented a challenge, and Trent was a sucker for challenges.

He parked his motorcycle outside his first location, an internet and coffee café, and sized up the building. They must be like books, he reasoned taking in the battered façade, You can't judge them by their covers. Indeed, the building was crammed in the middle of a string of aspiring businesses, most of them owned privately. Within a year, an ambitious entrepreneur would set up shop, struggle to stay open, and then fail under the stiff competition of large corporations. These cyber cafés, however, were taking root quietly. Anyone could come in, get a cup of coffee, and sit down at their own private computer terminal. There were, of course, expenses for using the internet, but patrons seemed to not mind. It was the great irony: people flocked to these places to connect to the world, but they rarely sat down and talked with other customers.

Trent strode to the front desk, figuring it to be the best way to get information. "How do I sign up?" he inquired of the young man.

The kid—barely out of his teens—was absorbed in his monitor and never tore his eyes from it. "Mac or PC?" he asked.

"PC," Trent answered. To his complete amazement, the kid handed him a form and a pen without looking to see where they were.

"We need your basic information and a deposit before you can get on the computer. Please read the rules and regulations for using our facilities. A signature and payment, and you're ready to go," he said before frantically clicking his mouse.

"Do you keep all these on record?" Trent asked hopefully.

"Yessir," he answered, "but they're strictly confidential."

"Why?" Trent was puzzled. Most businesses would readily give a list of their clients to the police, lawyers, and sometimes private investigators.

Light reflected off the young man's glasses, and he pushed away from the computer with a sigh, looking at Trent for the first time. The kid must have lost the game he was playing. "Some of our customers come with the express purpose of being anonymous." The boy cast a quick glance around to be sure no one was within earshot and leaned in to Trent. "Cyber affairs are becoming more and more common when marriages hit a dry spot," he said in a low voice. He leaned back again. "Of course, real affairs are more easily conducted this way, too. The significant other can't find the emails. I suspect other…" he paused and raised his eyebrows, "shall we say shady transactions are made online."

"And you know all this how?" Trent asked.

"I'm a sociology major," the kid said proudly. "Observing the human element is what I do."

Trent agreed uneasily. He tapped the papers in his hand on the counter. "Well thank you. I'll get back to you when I have more questions." He visited two of the other cafés on his list before calling it a day, leaving the last for tomorrow morning. His second stop gave him hope, as the young lady in charge tentatively agreed to let him see a list of names. It was a start, at least. Checking his watch, he realized that he would be a few minutes late to Uppercuts, where he had plans to meet up with his friends for dinner. He hopped on his bike and zipped off into the setting Dallas sun.

Once a week or so, Trent and Carlos would meet up with Cordell Walker and Jimmy Trivette of the Texas Rangers. Walker and Trivette had been friends of theirs for a long time. Mentor was a better word, since Walker's guidance had more or less shaped Trent's life for the better. In addition, the two Rangers brought their significant others and fellow Rangers Sidney Cooke and Francis Gage. The whole group—plus Margo and minus Carlos—was there waiting when Trent finally made it. Trent gave Margo a quick kiss hello as he sat down, and ordered. They were midway through the meal before Trivette asked about Carlos.

Trent checked his phone and laughed. "He called me on my way over here. Just a sec." Trent dialed his voice-mail, listened to Carlos' message, and frowned. "He's not coming," he said.

"Well, did he say why not?" Trivette asked. "I'm dying without him!" The rest of the group laughed, as it was customary to pick on Trivette when Carlos wasn't around to provide the comedic relief.

"Something about a case," Trent said.

"Carlos has another girl," Margo announced. "I win the bet! I knew he couldn't stay single for long!"

Trivette stayed her hand. "Let's just wait and see," he said sorely. "Well, what case?"

Trent frowned. "I have no idea," he said. "He was going to start his case tomorrow with Danae."

"TEN bucks says they hook up," Trivette challenged Margo. He wanted his money back.

"I can't believe you talked me into exercising on a Saturday morning," Danae grumbled to Trent as she walked into Thunder Karate, Trent's other booming small business.

"It's good for you," he said. "Builds strength, confidence, flexibility…"

"Badassery?" she asked, taking off her shoes. "Because I decided that's what I really need. I need to be so tough that no-one will ever think about trying to kidnap me in my own home again."

Trent laughed. "From what I heard, you're pretty scary when you're kidnapped. But we can work on some stuff here, too." He bowed before stepping onto the mat-covered floor. "Let's go ahead and get started."

"But Carlos?"

"Carlos is always late," Trent said, beginning to run laps. "His loss."

As predicted, Carlos strolled in the door about 15 minutes later, as Trent was explaining the finer point of a moon kick to Danae. "What'd I miss?" Carlos asked. "Stretching? Good! I hate stretching."

The three of them worked out for about an hour, Danae focusing on perfecting her kicks and punches, while Trent and Carlos sparred and worked advanced techniques. When they were through, Trent and Carlos were glistening in sweat and panting, while Danae—the most out of shape—was breathing heavily and wiping her face with her tee-shirt. "Great!" she smiled in spite of being exhausted. "So now I get to meet this lady looking like this?"

"There's a shower upstairs if you want," Trent offered, handing her a white towel. She excused herself and the guys sat down on the mats. "She picks this up so fast!" Trent exclaimed. Carlos took a swig from his water bottle. "And she's really flexible," he said sweetly.

"Oh really?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"She's incredible, Carlos," Trent pressed.

"I know," Carlos agreed.

"But?"

"But…" Carlos ran a hand through his dark spiky hair. "I don't want to ruin it, you know? She's a great pal," he smiled, white teeth flashing against his tan skin, "She's the best. I don't want to lose her by being an idiot."

"So you're going to see other women?" Trent asked.

Carlos just grinned.

"I'm serious, Carlos!" Trent joked. "I worry about you being single."

"I'll be fine," his friend assured him. "Did I tell you Nicole is back?" he said after a pause.

"So that's where you were yesterday! I knew it couldn't have been a case!"

"Oh, it's a case," Carlos assured him. He relayed the entire story how Nicole just happened to walk into Thunder Investigations. "I can't tell Kim, though."

"Definitely not," Trent agreed. "Not only is she not paying, but you two have some…you know…personal history."

Carlos laughed. "Yeah, exactly. I wish."