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darted around a table of figurines, vaulted over a waist-high stack of packing boxes and nearly caught Liam’s ankle with a head-first dive, but Brynn had appeared from behind a shelf of colorful teacups and clotheslined Liam with her outstretched arm. He dropped hard to the ground.
    With her heel on his neck and her gun to his temple, she warned, “Don’t move.”
    Liam protested his innocence of anything and everything. Sean dragged him to his feet and jabbed his pistol beneath his chin.
    “Why’d you run, Liam?”
    “Saw your gun,” the man choked out.
    Sean dug the barrel in a bit deeper. “Who were you talking to in that car?”
    “What? Who?”
    “Don’t play stupid,” Brynn said, affecting an accent that caught Sean unaware until he remembered that she’d pretended to be a German honeymooner when she’d first encountered the man. It was smart for her to keep up her cover, just in case this interrogation gave them nothing useful.
    “Tell him who you were talking to.”
    “Weren’t nothing. Local chappies. Want to know what’s going on in their town is all.”
    “Why did you point them toward our hotel?”
    “What? I wasn’t—”
    Sean jammed harder, and Liam stopped lying.
    “I didn’t know she was with someone. I mean, she said she was with someone, but I didn’t believe her.”
    Brynn slinked forward, drawing her finger lovingly over Liam’s slackened jaw. “I told you I was on my flitterwochen . Hard to do without a husband.”
    Liam’s grin was gap-toothed and foul. “Aw, what does he got that I don’t, lass? Bet if you ditch ‘im, I could make your night one for the record books.”
    Sean hadn’t planned on punching him. In any other circumstance, scum like Liam wouldn’t have been worth his time. But before his brain re-engaged, Brynn had yelped, Liam was sliding to the floor, unconscious, and Sean’s hand hurt like a motherfucker.
    “Well, that was brilliant,” Brynn said, her fingers digging through Liam’s tangle of beard for a pulse.
    “He insulted you,” Sean argued.
    “No, he insulted you,” she said with an exaggerated smile. “Oh, never mind. He’s coming around.”
    “Wha—” Liam said, struggling to sit up.
    Brynn placed her hand gently but firmly on the man’s chest. “You tripped. Bad fall. Stay put for a minute. Tell us about these men who like to keep tabs on the tourists.”
    Liam’s grin was lopsided, and his head wobbled as if Sean’s punch had loosened the tendons that connected his neck to the base of his skull. “Not all tourists, lass. Just the pretty ones who steal their business.”
    “Steal their…what?” Brynn asked.
    Alcohol, the punch to his jaw and vertical position combined so that when he opened his mouth to speak again, he let off an odiferous belch then passed out.
    Brynn jumped to her feet. “He’s disgusting.”
    Sean had no argument, so he wrapped his hand around Brynn’s upper arm, pulled her toward the door and doused the lights. Hopefully, when Liam came to, he’d think the whole situation had been a drunken dream.
    “Care to tell me what exactly you did the last time you were here in San Sebastían?” he asked Brynn.
    “I’d have to consult my case files. I can’t imagine it would be anything that would put me on the radar of local crime bosses.”
    “Well, imagine harder, cher , because from where I’m standing, I can see you pinging bright and clear.”

Five
    The man might have been drunk, but he had not lied. Brynn and Sean backtracked to the hotel, and in an alley parallel to the service entrance, they spotted the black sedan.
    Bollocks.
    Brynn had no idea why anyone in this Spanish coastal town would have her on his watch list. Her last visit had been brief. Despite what she’d told Sean, she remembered her last case perfectly. She’d called on her favorite forger to provide an untraceable passport for the daughter of a Danish judge who had hired Titan to liberate the twenty-something from an abusive