In Too Deep

were running a small, private arms-dealing operation. They had a buyer for the mirror, but I doubt that it was one of Lucan’s black-ops clients. They set up the deal with the broker, Sloan, who chose the mansion as the drop point. But things fell apart when Sloan got shot before he could tell Garrett and Phillips where he had hidden the mirror. So they went looking for you.”
    “At that point you knew that you would need the resources of Lucan’s company to find me, didn’t you, Julian? And once you did grab me, you knew you would need my full cooperation. That wasn’t likely as long as Lucan and everyone else thought I was guilty of arms dealing. So you changed your story to point the finger of blame at poor Caitlin Phillips. You killed her, didn’t you? You planted evidence in her house to make Lucan believe that she was the guilty party.”
    “Have fun weaving your little conspiracy fantasy,” Julian said. “You can’t prove a damn thing. The worst you can do is get me fired.”
    “No,” Fallon said. “That’s not actually the worst thing I can do.”
    “We both know you’re not going to murder me in cold blood and dump my body.” Julian managed a hoarse chuckle. “Give me a break—J&J doesn’t work that way.”
    “Don’t be so sure of that,” Isabella warned.
    Fallon raised his brows. “We’re supposed to be the good guys, remember?”
    “Well, yes,” she grumbled. “But we decided that there are exceptions to every rule, remember? And Julian constitutes a really big exception if you ask me.”
    “He is, but as it happens, Garrett isn’t our problem. Max Lucan hired him. He can terminate his own employees. No reason we should do his job for him.”
    Julian went very still. “It will be your word against mine.”
    Fallon’s smile widened. “Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? Go on, get out of here.”
    Julian looked flummoxed. “What the hell are you trying to pull, Jones?”
    “You’re right. I can’t prove a thing, so get lost while I’m still in a good mood.”
    Julian scrambled to his feet. “What happens to the mirror?”
    “It goes back to its rightful owner.”
    Julian grimaced. “Guess I should have seen that coming.”
    He half loped, half limped down the hall and disappeared around a corner. Isabella drummed her fingers on the side of the door frame.
    “I really hate to see him go free like that,” she said. “It’s not right.”
    “Maybe not,” Fallon said. With one hand he pulled a pristine handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his cheek. He used his other hand to take out his phone. “But letting him run might give us the answer to one lingering question.”
    Isabella speared the flashlight at Fallon. Blood glistened on his jaw and dripped down the front of his jacket.
    “You’re
bleeding
,” she wailed.
    He looked down at the handkerchief. “Yeah.”
    She rushed to him, took the handkerchief from his hand and gently blotted up more of the blood.
    “You need to sit down,” she ordered. “You could go into shock.”
    “I don’t think so,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
    He started to bend down to pick up the mirror but stopped midway, groaning a little, and gingerly reached inside his jacket.
    “I’ll get it,” Isabella said quickly.
    “Thanks.” Fallon spoke into the phone. “He’s running. Don’t lose him. He’s injured and will probably seek medical help. Don’t interfere. Just keep an eye on him until one of Lucan’s people takes over.”
    He ended the call and punched in another number. “Max? Jones here. Isabella was right about everything. Looks like Caitlin Phillips is most likely dead. She was Garrett’s partner, but he needed another fall guy after he realized he required Isabella’s help to locate the artifact. What is it? The Quicksilver Mirror. Yeah. Worth a fortune in some quarters. We’ve got it and Garrett is running. I’ve got a hunter following him until you can get someone on it. I’ll give you the whole story tomorrow. What? Of course we’ll send you our bill.”
    He closed the phone.
    Isabella picked up the mirror and took Fallon’s arm to steady him, although he did not seem to be wobbly. She drew him carefully down the staircase.
    “What’s the one lingering question?” she asked.
    “The name of the person who commissioned the Quicksilver Mirror.”
    “You let Julian run because you want to know the identity of his buyer.”
    “Well, that plus the fact that there wasn’t