“For the last time, I’m not the problem in your marriage. And if you don’t put that damn blade up, I’m gonna start yelling, and you can explain why you’re holding one of his employees at knifepoint.” Normally I hate a tattletale, but then, I also hate being threatened with a knife, and she sounded drunk enough to forget there would be consequences for stabbing me.

Her blade stopped just above my femoral artery. Guess she wasn’t that drunk. “Shout, and I will cut you. Whatever comes after will be worth watching you bleed out on my floor.”

And I had no doubt she’d do it. She could slice my artery before Cavazos even made it out of his chair. “I’m not sleeping with him. If you don’t believe me, why don’t you take this up with your husband?”

“He is a man, and men are fools. This is a matter for the women.” The blade tugged my skirt higher, then we both froze at a shuffling sound from my left.

“Mommy?”

I turned my head to find Cavazos’s four-year-old daughter—Isabel—standing at the end of the hall clutching a stuffed giraffe, backlit with light from the kitchen.

Michaela hid her blade lengthwise in the folds of my skirt, pressing both her knife and the fist holding it between my thighs. I gasped, then bit my lip. “Go back to bed, niña. I will be there in a minute.”

Isabel stuck her thumb in her mouth, then tottered off again without a word. Probably half-asleep.

“I know you are sleeping with him, and I know who you are tracking for him, and I will not let you bring that bastard into my house.”

A door creaked open and light flooded the hall. “Michaela.”

She froze at the sound of her husband’s voice, and I looked up to find him standing in his office doorway, a silhouette backlit from within.

“Go upstairs,” Cavazos growled.

Still glaring at me, she stepped back and folded her knife with one hand, then turned and walked down the hall without a word to—or a glance at—her husband. I only exhaled in relief when she disappeared around the corner.

Cavazos’s gaze traveled over my attire and his brows rose in approval. “A skirt. I like it.”

I made a mental note to apologize to Van in advance for burning her skirt.

He gestured with one outstretched arm for me to go inside, then he closed the door behind us.

“Would you please tell your wife that you and I aren’t sleeping together?” He couldn’t tell her what we were doing, but he could tell her what we weren’t doing.

He frowned. “Where would be the fun in that?”

“The fun would be the part where she doesn’t stab me to death in my sleep. Your wife is psychotic.” I leaned against the back of a chair, hoping if I stayed standing, he’d subconsciously be less tempted to drag this out. It was a long shot, but I was desperate.

“Michaela is just angry. Anger does fascinating things to a woman—no two react the same.”

“Yeah, well, she’s overreacting. With a knife.”

He nodded with a small, almost nostalgic smile. “It was my wedding gift to her. The handle is ivory.”

Sick bastard. “Well, at least my murder weapon will have sentimental value.”

“That’s actually an honor, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind as my life flashes before my eyes. She knows who you’re looking for, Ruben.”

He perched on the edge of his desk, watching me. “That was inevitable, and it changes nothing. Nor is it the reason you’re here. Why have you spent the entire day west of the river?”

“Working.”

“With Cameron Caballero?”

“The job required the assistance of a name-Tracker, and he’s the best in the city.” Which Cavazos damn well knew.

“Required? So the job is complete?”

Shit. Careless phrasing had been the downfall of more than one fool attempting to stonewall Ruben Cavazos, and if I weren’t so tired, I never would have made such a novice mistake. “Um…yeah. The first phase. But that led to—”

“Have you fulfilled your obligation to the client?” he said, waving off my attempt at damage control.

“Yes.”

“Then you will say adiós to Mr. Caballero and return to your work for me.”

I had no choice about working for him—at least until I could get a new retainer from Anne—but… “You can’t keep me away from Cam.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Ruben stood, stalking closer, and I stubbornly held my ground. “Everything you do is my business—I have a right to protect my investment. I want you to stay away from him, Olivia.”

“Then you should have written that into my contract.”

His fist flew. My face exploded in pain. I stumbled back from the blow, tripped over the clawed foot of the chair and went down hard on my right side. “You know how this is going to end. The game never changes, yet you keep playing.” He dropped into a squat in front of me and tilted my face up to inspect the damage while I ground my teeth together, breathing through the pain. It was bad, but not as bad as it was about to be. “Why do you do this to yourself, Olivia?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you.” I shoved him with my good arm. He went down on one hip, and I relished his ungainly fall and rare loss of poise. I pushed myself to my feet and kicked as hard as I could. My boot slammed into his ribs. He grunted in pain and I kicked again, then backpedaled when he made a grab for my leg. He was on his feet in an instant, storming after me, eyes alive with fury. Some sick part of him liked it when I hit back.