“Perfect. Because you and your girlfriend are going to make a run over to Starbucks so we can drop off your new house keys. There’s one located a couple blocks from Jordan’s house, at the corner of Barry and Greenview. Pallas will meet you there at ten—you know the drill. Got car keys for you, too—you’ll find a Lexus waiting in the parking spot of your new condo.”

“Sounds like I’m moving up in the world.”

“As they say, you are the company you keep,” Davis quipped.

When Nick hung up with his boss, he checked his watch. It was nearly nine A.M. in New York, which meant he had only a short window to catch his mother before she left for church. He steeled himself and dialed the phone number. Heck, he already had one woman mad at him that morning because of his job; he might as well make it two.

His mother picked up on the second ring.

“Happy birthday, Ma,” he said.

“Nick! What a surprise to hear from you,” she said in an overly dramatic tone. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Hold on—let me go into the other room.”

There was a pause, then she came back on the line. “Okay, the coast is clear. Your father still thinks I don’t know about the party. Are you at the airport? You should call Anthony or Matt to pick you up—tell them to bring you right over. Who knows how long it’s been since you’ve had a decent meal? I’ve already got a pot of sauce on the stove.”

Nick closed his eyes. She was making his favorite—penne arrabiatta. Just shoot him now.

No sense in delaying the inevitable. “Ma, there’s no easy way for me to say this, but . . . I’m not coming today. They put me on a new undercover assignment, and there’s been an unexpected development that means I can’t get to New York. But as soon as the assignment’s over, I’ll visit for a whole week. I promise.”

He waited. He could practically hear her thoughts.

Your promises aren’t worth very much these days, are they?

And it would be the truth.

“I understand,” she finally said. “I know how hard you work, Nick. Your job comes first. You do what you need to do.”

He tried to explain as best he could without getting into details. “This wasn’t something I planned. The case was supposed to end last night. You know that if there was any way I could make it today, I would.”

“Don’t worry about it,” his mother said in a short tone. “The family will be disappointed, but I’ll explain it. Frankly, I don’t think anyone will be too surprised you’re not coming.” She made some quick excuse about needing to finish getting ready for mass, told him to call soon, and hung up.

Nick set his cell phone down on the counter and blew out a ragged breath. Plain and simple, that sucked. He would’ve preferred she’d just yelled at him—that he could handle. But hearing the disappointment in her voice was tough.

He heard Jordan clear her throat from the doorway. He looked over, not having realized she was there.

She shifted awkwardly. “I overheard your conversation when I was coming down the stairs.” She walked over and took a seat in the stool next to his. “Your mother’s birthday is this weekend?”

Nick nodded. “Her sixtieth. My family planned a big party for her.”

“She was born the year after my mother. My mom would’ve been sixty-one this June.” She hesitated before continuing. “She died in a car accident nine years ago. Maybe you knew that already.”

Actually, he had known that from the file Huxley had pulled together. Jordan had been in business school at the time of her mother’s car accident. “Yes.”

“Granted, I’m a little biased when it comes to the subject of mothers. But I would’ve given anything to have been able to throw a sixtieth birthday party for mine.” Jordan held his gaze. “I’m sorry you couldn’t make it home this weekend.” She rested her chin in her hand and sighed. “What can I say? Xander’s an asshat.”

Nick blinked, then laughed. And something pulled tight in his chest when he realized that was exactly what she’d intended. “I didn’t realize billionaire heiresses were allowed to say asshat.”

With a slight smile, she glanced at him sideways. “You don’t know a lot about billionaire heiresses, do you?”

“No.” Although he did know one in particular who looked awfully cute in her jeans and long-sleeve navy T-shirt that made her eyes seem impossibly more blue.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Nick looked away and cleared his throat. He shook off the feeling and changed the subject. “We need coffee.” He pointed to the high-tech espresso maker. “Think you can skip the homemade stuff and go for a Starbucks run? I have to get my new house keys from another agent who will be there at ten. I was thinking you could be the contact person for the drop-off.”

Jordan’s eyes widened. “Ooh, that sounds very cloak and daggerish. How will I know who to get the keys from? Some sort of secret code word?”

“Don’t worry. He’ll find you.”

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Jordan looked at Nick, and he gave her the same look right back.

“Are you expecting someone this morning?” he asked.

“No. Are you?”

Neither of them moved, and the doorbell rang again. Twice in quick succession.

“Whoever it is, it sounds like he or she isn’t going away.” Nick stood up and pulled his gun out of the harness at his calf. He tucked it into the back of his pants, where it was more accessible. “Stay close to me while I check this out.”