Chapter Three

"Oscar, we've got big problems," Russ announced as he threw open the heavy office door without knocking. He placed a sheet of paper on the desk. "Coroner's report on Marjorie King. Not a trace of cyanide in her body; no drugs of any kind."

"What?" Oscar was glad he was sitting down. "Then how -?"

"She had ruptured blood vessels in her eyes; other than that, no visible injuries. Not a mark on her – no bruises and no signs of a struggle. Coroner says she was suffocated, probably in her sleep."

"She was in that cell less than an hour," Oscar pointed out, a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

"There's more," Russ told him in a grim voice. "Time of death is between 10pm and midnight – last night."

"My God..." Oscar whispered.

"Looks like the NSB arrested a corpse."

- - - - - -

Steve found himself surrounded by people who seemed just a little too eager to help him. An ominous sound, somewhere between a foghorn and a blood-curdling scream told him things weren't as rosy as they appeared.

"There's your Doctor King now," one of the men told him with a smile that oozed evil. "Or...whoever she really is."

"Huh?" Steve put on his best dumb and confused look while his insides were beginning to quake.

"Don't be dumb – we know she's an impostor, or...she was, anyway."

"What the hell?" Steve countered. "First the temp agency told me I was working for a doctor and she turned out to be a scientist, and now you're saying -"

"Shut up!" an authoritative voice demanded from the doorway. "Who sent you? FBI? OSI?"

"Huh?" Steve knew now that dumb wasn't working, but he was stalling for time.

"Who do you work for, Moron? Which agency?"

Steve shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "Righttemp."

The leader in the doorway scoffed and then stepped aside, allowing two huge, beefy assistants to drag Jaime into the room. She hung limply between them, with her eyes closed, but Steve's gut instinct told him she was awake.

"Who is she?" the leader demanded, stepping toward Steve.

"If she's not King," Steve answered, "then your guess is as good -"

"I'll ask you once more," the leader growled, inches from Steve's face, "who is she?"

"I. Don't. Know."

"Fine." He turned to the men holding Jaime. "Kill her."

- - - - - -

Oscar said a fast silent prayer as he sat in the backseat of the lead car in a squadron that was heading at top speed for the Aqueduct. Storming in with a troop's worth of guns blazing was the last thing he wanted to do, but with the NSB security tapes missing and Jack Hansen nowhere to be found, there was no other choice to be made. He'd sent his wife and his best friend (who were also his two top operatives) into a virtual minefield of a trap. Their covers hadn't been blown because it appeared they'd never had real covers to begin with. Perhaps they'd managed to quietly infiltrate the place and were having some degree of success, but Oscar had no way of knowing that, and he couldn't count on it.

He thanked Providence that at least Steve was in that mess with Jaime. They worked well together, and Oscar knew Steve would give his life to protect her. That thought flooded Oscar's soul with guilt. Steve had loved Jaime wholeheartedly ever since they were little kids. Their destinies had been intertwined, seemingly forever, by fate. While it was true that Jaime had no memory of their love and Steve had come to accept that, Oscar knew Steve's feelings hadn't diminished in the least. Steve was his best friend, and Oscar had married the only woman Steve would probably ever love. What right did he have? Should he have given Jaime more time? Would that have put her back into Steve's arms, where most of the world seemed to feel she belonged?

No! His heart, his feelings mattered, too! Oscar had gone many years without allowing any woman to penetrate the thick protective shell he'd fastened around his heart, but Jaime...she was different. He'd tried to convince himself that she should be with Steve, even if she couldn't see that at the time, but his heart had other plans. Oscar and Jaime shared something that neither had been looking for but it was so strong that neither of them could fight or deny it. Love worked that way, sometimes, banging you over the head when you didn't expect – or even want – it to. Now, Oscar couldn't even begin to picture his life without Jaime in it.

He leaned forward, toward Russ. "Drive faster."

- - - - - -

Kill her was his clarion call to action. Steve grabbed the man directly in front of him and shoved him into one of Jaime's captors. The force sent the leader and both thugs sprawling to the ground, taking Jaime with them, but temporarily saving her from being shot. She opened her eyes; Steve's instinct had been right - she was awake. Normally, they worked together like pieces of the same well-oiled clock, and the next move should've been Jaime's. He'd sent her into the perfect position to disarm both men, but...something was wrong. Jaime wasn't springing to her feet or grabbing the guns. She looked up at Steve with something he'd never seen in her eyes before while they were working: fear. Since she'd never been one to freeze like that, Steve knew he was on his own, fighting for both of them.

The leader had struggled back onto his now-wobbly feet, pulled his own gun and stood directly over Jaime. She kicked feebly at him, and Steve's heart sank. Somehow, Jaime had been drained of her strength. Moving solely on instinct with no time to consider options, he dove at the gunman from behind, grabbing the weapon and crushing it while using his body as a battering ram to knock the man down. He reached for Jaime, to help her up or carry her, if necessary, when a firm, commanding voice entered the room.

"Everyone freeze!" Jack Hansen, his own weapon drawn, took immediate control of the room, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief; the cavalry had arrived.

Steve was wrong; the cavalry had come, but not for them

- - - - - -