The past is still too close to us. The things we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again… – Daphne du Maurier

He doesn’t remember me. – Nessa Santiago after her double date with Jase and Briel.

Tonight is going to be…interesting.

Before Jase stood Briel Cortes, five feet and three inches of intensity and talent.

She looked as thrilled as he felt about the date, but he imagined she held different reasons for her lack of enthusiasm.

A woman who can handle me. He actually laughed at the thought. Of all the women he knew, Briel was probably the one woman who could. Of course, he had known eight years before when they had dated that it could never work - a two-headed snake was an impractical creation, always pulling in opposite directions. As Drew had promised, Briel was beautiful. Jase hadn’t seen her dressed in anything but mission gear since the academy, and so seeing her now reminded him of why he had first pegged her as interesting.

When she had proved as brilliant and talented as he, Jase had realized she was not really right for him. It hadn’t been an ego thing, though he knew she would think so. Jase knew himself. He fought for dominance, above all else. Briel did the same. The only people who worked with Jase were those who just refused the fight. Felicity had been like that. She held firm where she needed to, but not by fighting – just by being herself. The idea of Briel had brought with it images of dramatic, dangerous battles, and Jase had known it would not be good for either of them.

Conveniently, the higher ups had frown at his latching on such a promising new recruit – they feared Jase would hold her back. Maybe he would have, and he was glad he had not. A censure from on high would normally have cemented Jase’s determination to do a thing, but he had wanted to get away from Briel without causing too much damage. Jase’s best friend, Terrence, had complained and criticized Jase’s decision, but like the amazing friend he had been, Terrence gave him the benefit of the doubt. The thought reminded Jase how much he missed his friend.

Once Briel had left training, she and Jase had not run into each other for almost five years, and when they did, Jase had solidified all of her dislike. He could still smell the cold, damp air that blew in off the water across the tile and stucco in the Italian villa. During his entire career, that had been his most dangerous mission, and he had felt the least confidence in his cover. Those mafioso would have shot him in the back and thrown the body in the Grand Canal without batting an eye.

When they had dragged Briel into the main room to receive sentencing from the boss, Jase had thought he would collapse or be sick. Tiny little, tough as nails Briel. They had punched her several times, kicked her, and then dragged her to a cellar where Signor Rotolo had intended to let her die of thirst.

Jase had been forced to wait almost three days before he could get to her, and when he had found her, she was rabid and half drunk. Apparently, she had been sipping on wine to stay alive, and when she flew at him out of the darkness, he had known she would be okay. Jase had even given up a really nice sports car for her so she could escape, not that she would appreciate that fact. All she knew was that he had stood there and watched them beat her and done nothing. They would have killed us both, he insisted as he stared down at her tawny hair and green eyes.

In Banff, Jase had honestly been as addled as he had been in twenty years, since he was a young kid, and while trying desperately to keep Felicity Miller alive, Jase had not possessed the faculties to seek out Briel. He had been lucky she trusted him enough to deal with Brendon Miller, though no doubt her trust came from her clear recognition that he would do anything for Felicity. Hardly a recognition of his character.

Briel sucked in a breath and offered Jase a terse, unconvincing smile, and he forced his shoulders not to slump. There were very few people in the world whose opinion of him he cared about, but Briel was one. There were few people as talented as Jase who managed to hold on to moral fiber, and Briel was also one of those.

Just beyond the entry way into Briel's apartment, Jase could make out another figure, longer and lankier, seated in a relaxed posture on the couch. Apparently, she must be Drew's date. The rich earthen color of the woman's tresses hinted at a ruddy undertone when the flame from the fireplace licked along their subtle waves. Though Jase could not see her face, he could appreciate the length of her soft, statuesque legs which she had crossed languidly before her. All in all, neither woman would have seemed at home in the hot, smelly gym Jase had visited earlier in the day.

Briel barely, guarding her doorway like a Rottweiler, hid her ire under a generic expression which seemed neither pleased nor disgusted. When Drew pushed past her without greeting, Briel's stoic demeanor finally slipped, and her irritation lashed out like a whip.

“Come on in,” she mumbled under her breath to Drew, and Jase couldn't resist a smirk. There’s my girl, he laughed.

“Hi, Briel,” Jase greeted her, and she seemed to read his amusement.

“Jase,” she offered, not suppressing her annoyance.

“So, what have you been doing in the last twenty-five days?” Briel begged unmercifully.

He guessed that was payback for the “snow” comment in Phoenix. The pain apex was comparable. Jase had accused Briel of being cold and unapproachable, when it had been Jase who kept her at arm’s length. Now Briel had returned the favor, jabbing her thumb right on the wound of his failure with Felicity Miller. Well, he would let her have that one. He owed her.

“Not much,” he hedged. “Just pondering my poor taste in relationships.”

To his surprise, the confession drew a full laugh from Briel's lips, but it also seemed to soften her demeanor infinitesimally. For Briel, the concession spoke volumes.

“So, Nessa says you're thinking about joining us. Not gonna get rich in my line of work.”

“There’s more to life than money,” Jase finally answered. He deserved that, too.

“I would agree, and for your sake, I hope this work suits you better if that’s what you really want.” She nodded stiffly, and Jase felt his shoulders relax. Apparently, she was going to give him a break for his idiocy.

Just then, Drew and his date made their way to the door.

The woman Jase had admired from afar now stood before him, much prettier than her seated figure would have suggested. Somehow, he knew her, but he had no memory of how. She seemed shrouded by Felicity, and he couldn’t quite figure that out. For someone who had known as many women as Jase had, the superficial similarities signified nothing. The eyes, though. The expressions.

If he were honest, Felicity’s eyes had spoken tolerance and compassion. Strangely, when Drew’s date glanced up at Jase, her eyes offered forgiveness. He couldn’t explain it to himself. What could she know about him that required forgiveness? Likely, he was imagining things – he was new at trying to understand people beyond how they fit into whatever mission he intended to accomplish. Shaking himself, he stepped aside to let the others lead out of the house.

“So, what you're saying is that the Impressionist movement was a backlash against the pseudo-religious authorities by a bunch of young rebels...” A few minutes later, Drew's date, Nessa, had struck into a vein of intense yet casual conversation with Jase. The unusually lively eyes had lost their compassion, only to be replaced by energy and enthusiasm. Her warm voice melded nicely with the clinking of glasses and hum of the chatter around them.

Nessa Santiago, despite her too shrewd eyes, had provided entertaining conversation. Watching her talk, Jase had the opportunity to notice how warm and soft her full lips seemed, though the girl's genuine personality drew him away from perusing her looks too intensely. Her figure curved nicely, a certain softness rounding the curve of her hips underneath the fluid clinging fabric of her long shirt, but she hid the ample length of her legs in a none-too-tight pair of slacks. With her modest clothing she wore a self-deprecating carriage that concealed the full effect of her femininity. If she had pressed her shoulders back a little, elongated her neck a tad, maybe lifted her chest in invitation, Nessa could possibly have rivaled Amélie for elegance and beauty. Warm, warm, warm. Everything about her spoke, not fire or ice, but warmth and comfort and ease. Boring, his instincts accused, but Jase’s mind could not quite agree. Warm like poison, it told him. Insidious and alluring and perhaps irresistible.

Not yet, he reprimanded. Not so soon after Felicity.

Still, he could not escape the general sense of gratitude he felt toward the woman as he sat among an otherwise less-than-gregarious group of acquaintances. If Briel had provided Jase's only source of discourse, he would have sought escape from the night's plans within an hour. Briel, always guarded, restrained herself from engaging anyone in the group too intensely. Instead - to Jase's chagrin - she seemed intent on surreptitiously assessing him.

The contrast between Nessa and her friend struck Jase ironically, and not just their personalities. Briel spent little effort on her exterior, but unlike Nessa, Briel seemed to do so in in defiance against Jase and anyone else who would impose his expectations of superficial beauty on her. Still, few men could miss the allure of her taught figure and her strikingly lovely face. Nessa, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of herself, entirely too engaged in making everyone comfortable to waste effort on her facade. Sure, she looked amazing, but she seemed to have spent minimal time in making herself up; instead, her dark hair waved freely and the barest hint of color glossed her lips. The rosy hue of her cheeks seemed completely unassisted by cosmetics. She drew him in casually, comfortably, and he kept finding himself lulled to pleasure almost against his will.

“Not exactly a backlash,” he continued the conversation, “I mean, the artists began painting that way before they considered their oppression. They just liked the style. The actual movement, though, was a group of like-minded people who wanted to feel legitimate about the works they painted. To them, no self-ordained authority held the key to 'true art.' Until Napoleon III got hold of the Impressionists, they wouldn't have been called a movement.”

The waitress returned to refill the drinks at the table, and she smiled a shy, coy smile in Jase's direction. When Jase smiled back, though without enthusiasm, the waitress splashed a small amount of water on Jase's jeans in her embarrassed pleasure.

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed, and her flirtation transformed into exclamations of apology. “I'm so sorry, sir!” The poor woman pulled out the clean towel at her waist and began a mad dabbing at his pants leg.

Pulling his mind together, he stood up nonchalantly.

“It's nothing,” he assured her. “Just a spot. Do you have hand dryers in the bathroom?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Right over there, sir.”

“I'll be right back,” he informed his party, as he strode around the edge of the bar on a quest to dry his jeans. As Jase walked, he reached down to assess the damage - it seemed minimal. Just as he glanced back up from his perusal, a massive form collided with him, and he looked up with surprise into a familiar face: the white-haired man from the gym.

“Excuse me,” the man began without looking up. When he beheld Jase, he halted immediately. “Jase Hamilton,” he exclaimed.

For a moment, Jase said nothing, unwilling to validate the man's assertion.

“You helped Briel on the last mission,” the near-stranger sneered for some reason, overemphasizing the word “helped.”

Now Jase knew why he had recognized the man when he had encountered him at the gym. “You were her partner, Liam,” Jase speculated aloud. Why did this man bring a prickling sensation to the back of Jase's neck?”

“Yes. I'm also her boyfriend.”

The assertion floored Jase. Wouldn't Nessa and Drew have informed Jase if his date had a boyfriend? Both seemed entirely above-board. Unlike them, however, Jase got a distinctly subversive feeling from the man before him.

“So, you're currently dating Briel?”

Without hesitation, the man stated icily, “We're taking a little break, but we'll get back together. Briel can be impulsive.”

Not the Briel I know. “I see,” Jase replied skeptically. “Well, you can come back to the table with me if you want. Some team members were showing me around, and Briel is with us.”

“No,” the tense operative replied too quickly. “I'm on my way out, and you were on your way somewhere.”

“It's no problem,” Jase assured him, amused by the way the man's neck and jaw twitched with his discomfort. “I'm sure they wouldn't mind the intrusion.”

“No,” Liam seemed almost angry at Jase's insistence. “I have to go. I can always call Briel when I'm not in a hurry, and I see Drew plenty.”

Jase shrugged internally, relegating the strange man to the back of his mind. “I'll see you around, then.”

“Yeah, see you,” the man agreed before dashing for the exit to the restaurant.

“Jase!” For a moment, Jase stood rooted to where he stood, staring at the room around him. The voice had not originated with Liam, yet the menacing op seemed to have triggered the memory of the voice. Jase forced himself to stop searching. Until he let the memory run its course, he knew he couldn't return to the table without looking insane.

“I can't help you!” Jase's mind answered the memory for the thousandth time.

“But...” Margaret began before Jase cut her off. He tried not to stare into the pretty brown eyes or to see how she clutched his pocket knife in her tiny hands.

When Jase had turned five, his father had gifted him the pocket knife, and Jase had carried it with him wherever he went. Seven years later, he had passed the knife on to his beautiful baby sister, a reminder to her to be prepared for danger at any moment.

“It can't protect you from everything,” Jase heard himself as he handed the knife over in his vision. “Someone bigger and stronger can come along, and in the end, you will lose if you always try to do what's right. You have to look out for yourself instead.”

“You don't really believe that,” an older version of Meg's memory replied. Even standing in a bar more than a decade after her death, her naivete infuriated him. If anyone lived by the credo of “self first,” it was Jase, and he had adopted it wholeheartedly. In fact, if Meg had lived by the same credo, she would still be alive.

Shaking the vision from his head, Jase turned and forced himself back to Briel, back to the table peopled by those who perhaps posed the greatest danger to him outside of his own mind. They threatened his stated philosophy by their very existence and their chosen occupation. Look out for yourself, he reiterated the words of the vision. Yes, Jase reminded himself again, if Meg had listened to me, she would be alive today. Her exhortation had done little to convince him to travel the path of righteousness – her path; her death had validated his belief that he should look out for number one. After Meg, Jase only ever trusted himself. Whatever he undertook, he knew he could accomplish it. Whatever he wanted, he knew he could acquire by some means. Only a relic of his conscience restrained him, and it sounded suspiciously like Meg's childish voice. When he listened to it, it said, “Men like you are the reason she is not alive.” Jase cut off the thought before it could fully form. Rather than deliberate over the conversation for the hundredth time, Jase forced himself to walk back to the table.

For the first time since their introduction, Nessa looked directly into his eyes. “Is everything okay?” she probed. Apparently, he hadn't waited long enough, but between his memory of Meg and Nessa's piercing eyes, Jase would rather face the external threat.

“Of course,” he answered casually.

“You look a little agitated. I'm sure the waitress didn't intend to do that.”

Jase breathed a sigh of relief. So, Nessa had some internal sensor that felt the emotions of those around her, but she didn't always correctly guess the emotions' source. By all means, he smirked. Attribute my upset to the waitress.

“I'm sure she didn't. It's fine,” he soothed, forcing himself to reign in the frustration that the memory of Meg had stirred.

To his relief, Nessa did not press, instead continuing where they had left off. She took up the conversation as if nothing had interrupted their discourse. After she had meandered down a bevy of interwoven topics, her ease lead Jase to release the anxiety that had seemed to rule him as of late. Something about Nessa...

Even when she delved into her political views, Jase did not sense a ratcheting up of emotion, as usually happened in political discussions. Instead, she presented her opinions in the calmest, most unoffensive manner that Jase had ever seen on such topics. Contrary to what Jase would expect from her sentimental demeanor, Nessa did not hold simplistic ideas about fixing society but could speak intelligently on very complex issues. After their discussion of art, she led Jase into the topic of authoritarian governments, winding through several similar motifs, and finally landing on a discussion of Big Brother and covert surveillance in the United States. Government, according to Nessa's philosophy, funded the discordant chaos of modern art because it undermined more traditional philosophies of life thus weakening the institution of the family and encouraging reliance on government. “It's a self-perpetuating system,” she claimed.

Truly complex, Jase mused, fascinated. He felt himself warming into the raised seat of the booth, completely relaxed by the easy conversation.

Without warning, though, an unexpected intrusion sent a glitch through his momentary calm. When he realized its source, he nearly laughed at the unlikely scenario. For the first time in the night, the otherwise silent Briel leaned in a little closer between the two raven heads, Jase's and Nessa's. “Can I ask you a question, Jase?” she interrupted. “Regarding your recent work in Banff?”. Her demeanor in and of itself caught Jase's attention - Briel never hesitated.

Depends on what, exactly, you intend to bring up. “Better than discussing your recent work in Banff,” he jabbed. “What is it?” The jab had been entirely uncalled for, and Jase knew it, but he had a strange need to keep his time in Banff separate from his time before and after. It was…holy. But also damned. Briel had felt the sting, and Jase toned down his intensity so he didn’t strike out again.

“I just…I know you installed cameras; did you actually have to go inter the Miller house to do it? Could you have found a way to see into her house using, say, her own computer?”

Had her question stemmed from the discussion of “Big Brother”? It seemed so completely random. “Maybe” he agreed.

“So, how would someone do that – gain visual access to a room with a computer?”

Jase appreciated that she had kept Felicity out of the picture, limiting her question to the generic “Millers.” Someone like Briel, that would be intentional. “Not with the Millers, but I guess I could have. The camera on a laptop or desktop has a more limited view than what I needed. But if you don’t have time or access to install cameras, an internal one on a laptop will give you at lease some visual on a space.”

Jase took a moment's gratification, both that he held superior knowledge to the usually competent Briel and that she had deigned to ask him for advice. Since he had always measured her as perhaps the closest thing he had to an equal, a deep sense of competition had grown up within him over the years. Still, he had to scoff at her denseness. Surely the brilliant and talented Briel Cortes could manage an answer to so simple a question. Her state of mind reminded him of…of himself in Banff. He offered his opinion with as little mocking as he could manage.

“Makes sense,” Briel noted with coolness. “And the same with a microphone, I imagine?”

“Of course,” Jase scoffed. “Just like the camera. Are you looking to try this?” Jase glanced at Briel doubtfully. “You're not particularly known for your computer expertise. I could make you a thumb drive.”

What if someone had drugged her? Brainwashed her? Otherwise, what could dull her usually astute mind?

Briel balked, seemingly offended, but then quickly reigned in the emotion that had flitted through her eyes and answered, “No, I'm not going to try it. I'm just curious.”

“You are so lying.” The tone came from Briel's right, but it seemed so uncharacteristic that Jase looked twice to ensure that it had emanated from the mild-mannered Nessa - his second shock of the night. First, Briel's denseness, then Nessa's boldness. Comically, when he looked into Nessa's face, she wore an expression of utmost horror, as if she had just crushed someone's kitten under her tire - she had said it, all right. Jase had to restrain a voluminous laugh. Even Drew, who had sat aloof, glaring at the trio from time to time, smirked appreciatively at Nessa's dismay.

“What?” Briel exclaimed, her shock seeming equal to Jase's.

Abashed, Nessa looked like she wanted to crawl into the space under the table. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

“Well, apparently you did...what did you mean by it? Why do you say I'm lying?” Briel wore an amused expression as she pressed her friend to continue.

“I say it because...” Nessa hesitated. “I think you're more than just curious. Something in your voice – this is important to you. But not professional – not for a case.” Of course, Nessa was dead-on, but he hadn’t expected it from her, the insight, the confrontation.

Somehow, Nessa had picked up on a nuance in Briel's story that Jase had not expected anyone else to catch. Maybe there was more to Nessa than just brains and beauty. Something lay hidden in the girl's mind that most people didn’t have. After Felicity, Jase couldn’t really hand a challenge, but perhaps he could stand a mystery.

“Fine,” Briel finally allowed, pulling Jase back to the scene before him. “I have a vested interest.”

“Which is?” Jase demanded.

“On Wednesday, I checked my computer to see if I had a message from Sara. On the screen with Sara's message, I saw another message, one that should not have been there. I mean, I have several layers of security to block any unsolicited messages, but on my screen, I had a message from an unknown contact I hadn't authorized.”

Despite his desire to remain aloof, Jase found himself concerned with Briel's security. If her state of mind had proved so tenuous, she needed to fortify her defenses. Meg would be proud, he smiled sardonically, surprised at his level of emotional investment.

Uncomfortable as always when he thought about Meg, Jase refocused on the conversation before him, turning to objective analysis. He ignored Nessa's eyes that had momentarily riveted on him.

Briel had done nothing to protect herself from someone who had hacked his way onto her computer. Instead, she seemed to buy the person's story of being an old friend. The idea seemed ridiculous to Jase. Someone like Briel? She had multiple enemies that would seek her out for payback if they could find her. What if this guy was testing the water to ping her location? Or what if he intended to mess with her head, get under her skin so that he could manipulate her? Even worse, what if someone from ProtoComm had hunted her down. The company possessed resources competent enough to do so. Certainly, they hadn't liked her interference in the Miller case.

A friend would just call her up, Jase argued silently. Why hide his identity? The secrecy made little sense, and Briel knew it. Yet she continued recklessly.

“On the company app?” Nessa demanded?

“Yes,” Briel confirmed. “First, the person asked me how the coffee is in San Antonio, which is a little strange, but I didn't find anything menacing about it. Since the sender seemed to be offline, I couldn't respond, and I thought I might have to just call in Team security to strip my computer. I hate doing that, though, so I didn't do it right away. I thought maybe I could fix it myself.”

“Thus the questions for me?” Jase inferred.

“Thus the questions for you.” Briel agreed. “But you haven't heard everything yet. My computer is set to go into hibernation when it's not used for a few minutes, but it comes out of it if I touch the keyboard. So it's never really off. So, first and most importantly, I want to know how much of my life this person has monitored. Secondly, though, I have to wonder if this is in some way related to my current case. I know that’s not a foregone conclusion, since I guess lots of people would like to have access to the information I have acquired over the years. But who keeps that kind of information on their computer? Anyone from the industry would know we keep important stuff disconnected from the Net. Business people might not know that – even criminal enterprises may not know that. So I was thinking that someone from ProtoComm who doesn’t understand the system, who wants to know what I have on the Emelia Alvarez case? Concerned about corporate integrity after your defection, Jase? They know you left with me. Either that, or it could just be personal. Maybe the person had a non-business reason to contact me.”

Jase peered at her skeptically. Personal? Briel was gruff, but she was highly principled. She tended to stay out of people’s way, and she wasn’t social enough to commit social slights. “Surely you don’t have anyone who would come after you personally, Briel. And Banff is only the latest in your many successful campaigns. I wouldn’t get too stuck on one option. Even in your current case, ProtoComm is not the only interested party. ProtoComm is a middle man. Whoever your client is might have enemies.”

“Maybe,” she acceded, “but I would like to turn the table; maybe I can reverse the process. I could play along with this guy while I use the link to dig for intel.”

The thought disturbed Jase – Briel did not need to poke the bear. She just needed to shoot it. But would she listen to him? “Even without Bill at ProtoComm, it’s a dangerous game, delving into their business…”

“It may be a moot point anyway; I waited several days to see if the person would send me another message, and he did, but it didn’t seem to be related to ProtoComm.”

“What was it about?” Nessa wondered.

“It was strangely…personal,” Briel hedged. “Well, you kind of know the story, Nessa. You invited me out that first night, and then Liam came over, and I proceeded to break up with him...”

When Briel didn’t go on, Jase’s concern grew. Briel was a little daredevil – he had been shocked how much he’d had to slow her down for her own good when they were dating. Her eye wore the same exhilaration it had so often worn back then. “So, did they hack your microphone and camera? Is that why you asked me about it.”

“That’s my best guess. After my exchange with Liam, a message popped up on the computer saying to be cautious with him, as if the guy on the computer had heard the whole thing. How could he do that? So, of course, I had to search my room for planted surveillance equipment, and when I did, the guy responded by telling me not to waste my time looking for equipment because he didn't plant any. Which meant he could see me, too.”

“Wow, that’s…” Nessa stuttered. “You said guy. Do you know for certain it's a man?”

“Well, no. I guess I just meant 'person.' You know, like, 'you guys'?”

“So, we're talking a hack of your computer's camera and microphone.” Jase posited. “The personal angle is odd – why would this person want you to mistrust Liam?” Not that Jase trusted Liam.

“That’s a good question…” Briel agreed. “I mean, could be jealousy, I guess.”

“Or could want to isolate you,” Jase murmured, thinking.

“Getting me away from Nessa would work better there – I was already isolating from Liam.”

Jase forced himself not to laugh. Nessa Santiago was highly intelligent, but he would not peg her as a good fit for personal protection. If someone wanted to attack Briel, Nessa might prove as much an incentive as a deterrent, since Briel would be distracted by her friend. He wouldn’t express his skepticism, though. “But the person might not have witnessed Nessa there.”

“True. So he might be playing mental games with me, but that leans toward the personal. If it is a professional hack, why would he communicate with me?” Briel pressed. “It makes sense that, in our line of work, someone would want to monitor me. But wouldn't he want to remain undetected?”

“I would think so,” Nessa agreed. “It’s not the only option, but it would make more sense.”

Briel blew out a breath. “So, how do I find out who this person is?”

“You’re putting the cart before the horse,” Jase instructed. “Your first order of business should be to protect yourself from this person, not waste time on an investigation. You need to wipe your digital signature.”

“But if the person has sought me out, then I want to know who he is. Someone who could do this could just find me again – or seek me out in person. I don't want this mysterious thing hanging out there to jump at me unexpectedly.”

“I would want to know,” Nessa concurred.

“And, I'm not getting rid of the computer,” Briel insisted.

Jase knew he wouldn’t win the argument. He didn’t have enough of an opinion either way. “So, unplug the camera and uninstall the mic,” Jase shrugged. “...but keep up the conversation. If you're going to protect yourself, you need to understand the threat. Message him, then you can search for clues to his identity while you talk. Also, if you'll let me see your laptop, I might be able to backtrace his location from the connection.”

As Jase tried to pierce through her mind with his eyes, Briel turned and locked his gaze. Apparently, she did not intend to divulge any more information to him. Every time he mentioned one of his suspicions, Briel dismissed the possibility. Though she had opened the conversation, she refused to continue it beyond the questions she had asked. Afraid to reveal too much? Jase accused silently. From the moment their eyes met, Briel turned the conversation away from her computer, and Jase could find no inroad to reopen it.

“Did you ever remove that virus that had infiltrated your computer?” Briel addressed Nessa nonchalantly.

“Well,” Nessa allowed the change of topic, smiling over at her date. “Drew took care of it for me. He said he didn't want to me to take the time to learn in this instance because an infiltration in our profession could cost someone's life.”

Briel nodded reluctantly. “I guess I could see his point.”

“But he's promised to teach me how to remove it myself. I'm not bad with computers, so he doesn't think it will take long.”

“She's naturally very good with computers,” Drew corrected.

Jase waited impatiently for an opportunity to interrupt the conversation and bring it back to Briel, but she adroitly repelled his every attempt. Since the group had long since finished eating, Jase held little hope that he would successfully bring the topic up again.

Before he could come up with a plan, the waitress sauntered over with the change from their bill. Even without her conspicuous flirtation, Jase had intended to leave her a generous tip - she had never quite recovered from her earlier mishap. After glancing up into the woman's face, though, Jase's concentration fled, and he just threw some money down on the table.

Felicity's eyes. The woman had Felicity's eyes, or something nearing an approximation. They were blue. They were beautiful. You’re seeing things, he reminded himself. It had happened for days after he had said goodbye to her. After their final kiss on the caye.

When he blinked back at the woman, the effect was gone. Besides the lovely blue color, there was no resemblance. Jase thought he had finally left that behind.

Not while you’re dreaming it every night. Jase needed to get out of that restaurant, so he stood to his feet and turned toward the door. Briel followed immediately, as if she, too, wanted to escape, but Jase hardly noticed. Once out the door, Jase led the group into the warm night; his enthusiasm for any endeavor had fled, replaced by a mix of confusion and frustration. His mind could not escape the shackles of Felicity too soon.