The private jet had seating for twelve, but Josh and Chang were the only passengers. He’d been on small planes before and usually they were loud, roaring things that left his ears with the same tinny buzz as a rock concert. Not this one. Aside from a low hum and a kind of distant whistling, the jet seemed almost silent—which spoke volumes about the vast sums of money that had probably been spent on it. Homeland Security had gotten it on loan, short notice, from a prominent Boston law firm. If there was one thing Josh had learned in the time since he and Voss had moved from the FBI to ICD, it was that there were always strings waiting to be pulled. You just had to find the right ones.

The cabin lights were dimmed, presumably to allow them to get some sleep, but Josh figured they would be in the air such a short while that a nap would only make him feel more tired by the time they touched down.

To his left, across the small aisle, Nala Chang dozed lightly. She’d put her seat all the way back and curled up sideways, knees tucked up to her belly. At peace, she had a beauty only hinted at while she worked. In the time they had spent together, he had usually seen her full of purpose or troubled, intent upon something. But in repose, she had a tender sweetness that made her seem delicate, even fragile.

Chang would be furious if he ever expressed that thought aloud. Seeing her like this, though, together in that intimate silence, made him want to protect her. And that was a very dangerous thing indeed.

Josh forced himself to turn and look out the window, but there was nothing to see out there except darkness. This is a bad idea, he thought. He smiled to himself as he looked back at Chang. Besides, Rachael would kill you.

“What’s funny?” Chang asked, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes. In the dimly lit cabin he hadn’t noticed that she’d begun to wake.

“You. You’ve got a little bit of drool going, right there,” he said, touching the corner of his mouth to demonstrate.

Chang made a face and reached up to wipe her mouth. Finding nothing, she shot him a withering glare.

“Nice. Make fun of the sleeping girl.”

“I also shaved your eyebrows and drew on a funny handlebar mustache.”

Chang sighed, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “You do know I carry a gun?”

“It occurred to me, but too late.”

“You’re a riot,” she said, turning the other way and closing her eyes again. In moments she was so still that Josh thought she had fallen back to sleep, and then she continued. “So, what’s the story with you and your partner?”

The plane rumbled through a small pocket of turbulence. Josh stared at her back, trying to sort out the meaning of the question.

“The story?”

“Just wondering if you’re sleeping together. You two have a vibe.”

Josh glanced out the window, saw city lights below, and tried to gauge how long until they landed. Suddenly the plane’s cabin felt even smaller.

“No,” he said. “We’re not sleeping together.”

Twenty or thirty seconds ticked by in silence. Just when he was absolutely certain that this time she really had fallen back to sleep, he heard her speak again.

“Good.”