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purposely running past her home would place him squarely in the stalker zone.
    He broke into a full sprint as his apartment building came into view, his lungs heaving and his muscles burning but his mind clear. The beating of his heart and the pumping of his legs became his central focus, blotting out all his foolish inclinations.
    He considered running past his building, running until his body gave out and he didn’t have to worry about Salomeh or Bardhyn or the ghosts of his parents and sister. Instead he slowed his pace and brought himself to a stop near the front door.
    Sweat coursed down his body, cooling him, although the air he gulped down was warm and heavy with moisture. He bent over into a stretch, fingers grabbing his toes as he let his mind slip into the comforting routine of verb conjugation. When physical activity failed, his mind could be brought to heel through mental exertion.
    He listed the Latin words by rote. Sto, stavo, stetti, staro … Next Italian, then French, then Spanish. He’d stick to the romance languages this morning, as they were the only kind of romance he should be dabbling in right now. Fantasies of wide-eyed teachers had no place in his life.
    “Impressive,” a voice said from behind him.
    He stood and saw a short, fair-haired Latina holding a bag of groceries and eyeing him with interest.
    She was beautiful, but something in his mind said, Not her , rejecting the woman. He didn’t have to try very hard to imagine who would get the Yes her stamp of approval.
    Julian smiled at the woman all the same, knowing the effect of his dimples and his long lashes. Flirting was an interaction he could control, a game that came easily to him even when he lacked enthusiasm.
    “I didn’t know I had an audience,” he said, observing the quirk of her head that marked the exact moment she noticed his accent.
    “An appreciative one,” she said, still friendly but not exactly flirty. More like assessing. She glanced at the thick scars on his arms. “Are you new to the building?”
    “I’m subletting while I’m in the area for business,” he said as he stopped stretching to open the door for her. She passed beneath his arm and then turned.
    “Well, if you aren’t detained by business , you should come to the party on the roof tonight,” she said. “There’s going to be music, dancing, and a killer view of the fireworks.”
    “I’ve never seen the fireworks display in New York. Do you think it lives up to the hype?” he asked. “Haven’t they been handled by the same family for generations?”
    The woman shrugged as she walked into the lobby.
    “Beats me,” she said. “But my friend, who by chance is going to be here tonight, probably knows. She reads everything, has a memory like a steel trap, and she’s super cute.”
    Ah. A setup.
    “Well, I’d love to, but I have plans.”
    “Liar. You have nothing better to do, and if you don’t come, you’re going to regret it,” she said as she stepped into the elevator. Right before the doors closed, she smiled wide and threw down the gauntlet. “Besides, my friend probably won’t be interested in you anyway.”
    There was only one cute, smart woman Julian was interested in meeting, but the fireworks display might be worth a few moments of inane chitchat. Maybe interacting with normal people, people who knew nothing about Albanian gangs and terrorists and how really scary the world was, would be a good thing. At the very least it would be something to keep his mind off this troubling fixation with one Miss Salomeh Jones.
    He and Yates would question her tomorrow in a totally professional manner, and then, he hoped for her sake, he’d never see her again.

Chapter Four
    “Tell me, Henderson, how does it feel to know that none of my men would ever break their Besa, that they wouldn’t speak to you for any amount of money, and yet here you are selling your own agents out for the small sum of three hundred thousand dollars?”
    Bardhyn