LITMIR.BIZ

      1

      CARTER SINCLAIR shifted in the leather chair and pushed his shoulder-length hair out of his face. Damn, but he longed for a haircut and a shower. For three harrowing years he’d been knee-deep in murderous, sleazebag scum, and he was nearing the end of his rope. Just hours ago, he’d been pulled off of his current undercover gig, and he could only hope the reason was the change of assignment he’d put in for.

      Across from him, Assistant Director Evan Kincaid put down the phone, then flipped open a manila file folder on his desk. Carter recognized his personnel file. Hell, he’d seen it enough recently.

      Kincaid peered at him over the rims of his half glasses, a portrait of the President and the FBI seal on the wall behind him. “I understand you’re looking for a new assignment.”

      “Yes, sir. I’d like a permanent assignment to a field office. I’m hoping to go in as the special agent in charge.”

      “Why?”

      “It’s all there in my file, sir.”

      Kincaid leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Humor me.”

      Carter suppressed a snort. He’d been through a whole battery of psych exams, and still he had to prove himself. “I’m looking for a change in lifestyle, sir. Chasing drug dealers doesn’t hold the appeal it once did.”

      “Understandable. You’ve been deep undercover for a long time.”

      Carter sat up a little straighter as Kincaid continued to flip through his file. After four requests for a transfer, that wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. When he’d left the Waxahachie, Texas, police department to join the Bureau, he’d longed for the chance to hunt down the criminals that preyed on ordinary folks. He’d gotten the chance, and he’d helped put away more hardened criminals than he had fingers and toes to count.

      But now Carter was just plain tired. Emotionally, physically. Hell, he was so tired his fingernails ached. He either needed a new assignment or a new job. But Carter loved the Bureau, and that’s why he’d spent the last two months trying to push through this request.

      He cleared his throat, and Kincaid looked up from the folder. “Does that mean the Bureau’s going to facilitate my request?” Carter asked.

      Kincaid pushed back from his desk. “That depends on you.”

      “Sir?”

      “Have you been following the news? Celebrity blackmail?”

      Carter nodded, not sure where this was going. “I’ve heard a bit about it. Some big-shot Hollywood director. A Wall Street tycoon. And a Congressman, I think.”

      In truth, he’d have to have been on Mars to have missed the news. Some scumbag was selling sexual secrets. Reputations were being ruined, deals destroyed, and key political players were suddenly bending to the will of unseen blackmailers.

      “They’re just the tip of the iceberg,” Kincaid said. “The high-profile victims. The ones who are willing to go public instead of succumbing to the perp who’s trying to put the pressure on. And,” Kincaid continued, “that’s why the FBI’s getting involved.”

      “A case?” Carter asked, sitting up even straighter.

      Kincaid nodded, then grabbed the top folder off of his in box. He pulled out a thick report and rifled through the pages. “Our information suggests

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