LITMIR.BIZ

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fallen for a pretty face once before. And Heidi Zimmerman qualified as more than a pretty face. Her hair spiraled past her shoulders in shades of blond and brown and one little curl kept breaking free from where she tucked it behind her ear. Long lashes framed big green eyes set over a cute nose.

      Cute nose? Nobody had a cute nose. He needed to pull it together. What had she said? She hadn’t known someone wanted him dead? What did someone say to that? Great?

      She sat straighter in her chair. “I’m sure this goes without saying, but if you tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, I’ll deny it and you’ll be prosecuted for obstruction of justice.”

      “Sounds fun.”

      Her lips twitched. Super FBI agent lady had a sense of humor. Interesting.

      No trace of humor lingered when she spoke again. “Fifty years ago, Viktor Kovac immigrated to America from Hungary. It didn’t take him long to settle into New York City and within a few years, more members of the family joined him. Within ten years of his arrival, the Kovacs had made a name for themselves in criminal circles. The police suspected them of everything from money laundering to drug smuggling.”

      She took a sip of her water. “Like most organized crime families, they are focused on doing whatever it takes to protect their own and make as much money as they can. In recent years the younger Kovacs have pushed into darker territory. Instead of money laundering and protection schemes, they’ve been linked to human trafficking, arms smuggling and trying to corner the market on certain prescription drugs.”

      “I’ve never heard of them.”

      “No. You wouldn’t. Other than the occasional low-ranking lieutenant or wannabe, they’ve never been prosecuted.”

      “Never?”

      She shook her head, disgust etching her features. “They’ve been linked to multiple homicides yet despite extraordinary efforts on the part of detectives, FBI agents and even informants, there’s never been enough proof to take them to trial, much less secure a conviction.”

      Her voice cracked and for a moment, a cavern of pain opened in her eyes. As quickly as it appeared, she looked away and when their eyes met again, steely determination was in its place.

      “The younger Kovacs are opportunists. They function without morals, ethics or loyalty to anything or anyone other than the family.”

      “You don’t have to convince me. They’re bad news. I’ll be sure to stay away from them.”

      “I’m afraid that won’t be as easy as you may think.”

      “What are you talking about? I don’t know any Kovacs.”

      When she looked at him her eyes filled, not with the intensity he’d seen a moment ago, but with compassion. She had the look his mother had had when she’d told him about Grandma’s cancer. A look like that only came with bad news.

      “Are you saying I do know some Kovacs?”

      She nodded. “One of your employees.”

      “I know all my employees. Not a Kovac in the bunch.”

      “Two months ago, you hired a man by the name of Mark Hammond, I believe?”

      “Yes.”

      “Mark Hammond isn’t his real name.”

      Blake put his head in his hands. This couldn’t be happening. “I run background checks on all my employees.”

      “If you’ve got the money and the know-how, it’s not hard to create an identity that can withstand all but the most thorough of investigations.”

      “So—”

      “Mark Hammond’s real name is Markos Kovac. He’s the youngest grandson of the original Kovac and he has a lot to prove. He’s the baby of the family by quite a few years and most of his older brothers have already established their roles in the organization.”

      Blake sat up. “How do you know this?”

      “The Kovac family is my job.”

      She didn’t elaborate and the set of her mouth made him think she might not say more, but she swallowed hard and continued. “I know more about the Kovacs than anyone else in the Bureau. When Markos and his wife, Katarina, bolted for North Carolina, I followed. I’ve been here four weeks, watching, following, listening—trying to figure out what Markos is up to.”

      “I haven’t seen you.”

      “I’m an undercover agent. That’s kind of the idea.”

      Something about this whole conversation didn’t make sense. “What does any of this have to do with me? Mark may not like me, but I don’t think he’d run me off the road. Besides, I hate to tell you this, but he was at work when I left.”

      She started to answer, but he cut her off. “Has it occurred to you that maybe this guy wants to go straight? Maybe he wants to get out of the family business and live an honest life.”

      She bit the inside of her lip. “No one leaves the Kovacs. No one has even tried in the past fifteen years.” The words were more breath than whisper. She looked up at him and the pain on her face made him lean toward her. He wanted to comfort her, somehow, but he didn’t even know her.

      The moment passed. “What do you mean, about Markos not liking you?”

      Blake rubbed his face with his hands. “I’m sure it’s nothing. We’ve just had a few minor issues.”

      “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to decide whether your issues are minor or not.”

      Ah. Yes. There was the bossiness he remembered. “Fine. He’s had some inconsistencies with quality that none of our other supervisors have had. The last twenty or so off-quality batches we’ve produced happened on his watch. I’ve questioned him, even hung out during shifts, tried to ask around. There’s nothing I could prove in terms of negligence in his work, but I did tell Dad and Caroline that I was watching him. We’ve been wondering if he might be some sort of corporate spy.”

      “Do you have a lot of trouble with corporate espionage?”

      Blake couldn’t resist the opportunity to brag. “We make things no one else can make. Sure, we produce a lot of stuff that’s standard—your basic water bottles, food containers, chemical containers—but over the past ten years, we’ve built a reputation for making specialty containers no one else will even attempt. We make unique shapes and if we can’t make it, no one can. This year we landed a huge account for water bottles shaped like footballs, basketballs and baseballs. Our client has already sold them to over thirty professional teams. They hit baseball parks this summer. That account alone doubled the production on our specialty lines.”

      She didn’t seem as impressed as she should be.

      “We have some fierce competitors out there who would love to get an inside look at what we do.”

      Heidi raised her hands. “Okay. Okay. You guys are the best. I’m not disputing your status. But I know the Kovacs, and corporate espionage isn’t their style,” she said. “He’s here to do more than steal some trade secrets.”

      “Care to be more specific?”

      Heidi looked down. “I can’t.”

      “You what?”

      “I can’t be more specific, because I don’t know. That’s what I’m here to find out.”

      * * *

      Blake sat back in his chair. Heidi watched as the struggle to grasp her words played out across his face. They sat in silence for several minutes before he cleared his throat. “What does any of this have to do with me getting run off the road last night?”

      There it was. The question she’d been waiting for and the one she dreaded answering. “I don’t know.

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