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the bright Alexander David Koves had been thrust into a lofty position too soon. When he claimed a trusted government source was a traitor, responsible for the deaths of his assets, he had few supporters left. What hurt the most, though, was the absence of backing from the woman he loved, Nora Mossa. He could handle the weight and pressure from his superiors but not the skepticism from one he held close to his heart. So he returned to Langley, walked into CIA headquarters a government employee, and an hour later, was escorted out, no longer on the US government’s payroll. It was the only thing he had quit on in his life.
    Unable to fully enjoy his annual Carnival party, he made a stealthy getaway from the packed crowd, promising to return shortly in a better mood. He realized only one solution would ease his mind.
    He greeted the guard on duty at the entrance to Frenchman’s Reef Hotel with sympathy, understanding the man’s lack of enthusiasm: the guard was missing the last night of Carnival Village. The two recognized each other, having played pickup basketball together at Griffith Park. He waved Alex through. Familiarity often made life a lot easier on St. Thomas. Alex parked and bypassed the hotel lobby, heading for a side elevator. A few minutes later, he found himself hesitating before knocking on the door. His arms felt the weight of his decision and resisted. Was this what he really wanted? Did he miss the action that much? He got off the rock enough to exorcise the boredom, but an element of excitement was missing. In the final analysis, there was the pain he knew would never escape him if Nora got killed after pleading for his help. Her death would haunt him ten times more than the souls that already did.
    He took a leap of faith and willed his right arm to knock. Through the peephole, he could see the light inside eclipsed by movement. When it was determined he was friend, not foe, the door opened.
    “Let’s go. You’re making me miss my party,” he said.
    Nora stood slightly stunned. “Does this mean—”
    “It means tonight you’re going to a party,” Alex cut in. “We’ll address that other thing tomorrow.” Nora was still motionless.
    “Well, let’s go.”
    Back at his house, the party was lively. The deck was full of bodies and the overflow was positioned on the beach. Some were dancing to the music, but the conversations and laughter spoke volumes to the level of entertainment. The abundance of food and drink were set out on a lengthy buffet table, caterers making sure there was never a shortage of anything.
    The house brought back memories for Nora. They had been a couple when she was last here. She had nearly forgotten about Alex’s past as a professional football player. He never talked about it much, and the only visible tribute to those days was an oil painting of him when he was an Oakland Raider. It hung in the family room above the fireplace, his fierceness when fully engaged as a strong safety perfectly rendered. When she read sports stories about him, it was said he delivered hits with all the force of a runaway train.
    Alex made introductions when necessary and told Nora to make herself at home. The party consisted of people who all seemed to enjoy each other’s company and stories. It was the first time in days that Nora felt secure enough to let her guard down. She drank, ate, and danced like it was a weekend back in college at the University of Oregon. Every now and then she would observe Alex moving about, being the perfect host. She was grateful beyond words that she had been right about the kind of man he was.

 
    CHAPTER 8
    Alex had thought Nora was completely out of his life for good. He’d made that intention clear years ago—ironically, in this very city.
    As the Lincoln Town Car sedan rolled along the Arlington Memorial Bridge, it dawned on Alex that he hadn’t been in the nation’s capital since shortly after the day he’d walked away from the CIA.
    The sun was