Marcus chose the restaurant on purpose.

Not the quiet place with the high backs and the dim corners. A brighter bistro downtown with close tables, big windows, and enough ambient noise to cover soft sounds but not enough to hide everything. Elena realized it the moment they were seated at a two-top near the center of the room. The lower marks under her high-necked sweater ached in a dull continuous line. Between her legs she still carried the thick combined heat of the morning and the parking-structure load from the day before—warm, deliberate, kept there because he had told her to keep it in and the new shape of the...