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“The stories about him go back at least fifty years. Hell, my father swears he met him a long time ago. And I’m not kidding.” He leaned against the bar, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t see a seventy-year-old scaling walls and jumping from building to building.”

“Have a little ageism, why don’t you?” Weston teased.

“Be real. You know the business we’re all in is brutal on the body as well as the soul. Besides, if the assassin had wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

I took a deep breath. Christian’s claim was fairly accurate. If what Weston told me about the circumstances was true, then by all rights he should be nothing but ashes in a box, the assassin’s bullet hitting its mark. “How do you account for the fact that Weston’s assassin had the same scar on his hand?” Maybe I was trying to make sense of what had occurred.

“You just think it’s the same one. You were twelve, for fuck’s sake,” Weston said. “Not to berate you, but there was a violent storm going on, and it was dark?”

“There are some things people can’t forget, even at twelve.” I turned my head towards him, almost wanting to be furious, but I understood why he wasn’t convinced. Meanwhile, I’d built my adult life around the certainty that The Iceman had been responsible. What if there was someone else pretending to be the man?

No, I had enough crosses to bear to worry about that.

“Look, I’m not suggesting anything, and I’m not saying it’s impossible. I’m just reminding all three of us that what went on in college stays there. Plus, if you are right that Ava ’s father was The Iceman, after her death, he went into a freefall for a few years, finally falling off the radar. Last he and his wife were seen, they were living in Fiji. Plus, not a single other soul made the connection that Xavier Summers was The Iceman. Not one.”

“You know I’m right!” I realized my voice had carried, Maria turning her head in our direction.

“Keep your damn voice down,” Weston hissed.

“All I’m saying, Clinton, is that I find it hard to believe, because it’s been ten years if he’s reenergized his earlier career.” Christian wasn’t easily shaken, but I could sense he was being more tentative than usual.

“I understand what you’re saying. We’ll need to be cautious. Keep the security tight around you. However, you know I don’t buy it when things look too easy or if they appear to be a coincidence. That being said. We could have another problem,” I said as I shoved my hands into my pockets, purposely watching the beautiful woman enjoying the bright sun.

“Spill it,” Weston demanded.

“I had to deal with an unruly employee last night. In his quest for salvation, he tossed out that people knew about what happened years ago. When pressed, he said several employees received a cryptic email less than a week ago.” I hated to admit it and had spent part of the night working with the computer technicians and the two hackers I’d recently hired to try and locate the source.

“Is that the truth?” Now, Christian seemed interested.

“Yeah, twenty-two emails were sent, five going into spam, two going to employees who no longer work at the resort. It appears the emails were sent from a bogus Gmail, the IP address somewhere in Brazil, China, the Soviet Union. You get the drill.”

“A hack job for certain,” Christian agreed. “Why? To make you look bad? I doubt your employees give a shit. They know what you really do for a living.”

Chuckling, I scratched my jaw. “They do. I have a feeling whoever sent it knew at least one of them would mention it to me.”

“Interesting scare tactic.”

Weston took a deep breath, half laughing before asking a question. “Do I want to know what these emails said?”

“Simple and to the point. ‘Ten years ago, three men of the Elite including Clinton Cross murdered a bright rising star. Her soul has yet to be freed.’ Poetic.”

The two men sucked in their breaths. “Someone is playing a game,” Christian said. “We need to find out who.”

Weston took a deep breath. “Did either one of you get a strange text last night?”

I couldn’t help laughing. “One word. Soon?”

When Weston nodded, Christian exhaled. “Yeah, I tried calling the number. Not in service.”

“Yeah, well, don’t bother. Burner phone. No doubt,” I told them.

“Meaning you’ve gotten more than one text.” Weston lifted his eyebrows.

“Yes, I have.” I scanned the restaurant, almost laughing when I saw Maria’s personal assistant watching her from a distance. The woman certainly didn’t like me very much. As if I cared.

“Well, ain’t this peachy,” Christian growled. “I think we’re being set up. Why Chicago, Weston? New business?”

Weston’s expression went from confusion to disgust. “Yeah. Bart Cheveau is supposed to sell his textile firm, but he’s having seller’s remorse.”

I rubbed my jaw. “Strong company with tremendous profits. Why try and sell?”

“Why does the name Cheveau sound familiar?” Christian asked.

“You’re right, it does,” I said in passing.

“He’s legit,” Weston insisted. “But the change in his attitude was unexpected, forcing me to come to Chicago.”

Too many things were out of place, leaving a trail of bloody breadcrumbs. I glanced at Christian.

“You mentioned earlier that we needed to talk. What other joyful information did you bring us?” Whatever game was being played was already taxing.

He nodded, obviously mulling over everything that was going on. “William Watkins is determined to ruin us one way or another. An article came out in the Times in New York. Somehow, he either convinced or bought off a reporter to tell his story regarding the Elite. It’s a doozy. I took the liberty of printing a copy of the article for you. While he’s careful not to commit himself to a libel suit by mentioning us specifically, he paints an ugly picture of the university and the Elite.”

After he handed us a copy, I scanned it briefly. Then I balled the two sheets of paper into my fist. “The motherfucker needs to pay.” Why would he attempt to do this now? It didn’t make a lot of sense.

“Maybe that’s why the contract I came here to finalize has a chance of going south,” Weston hissed. “It would seem to me a plan is in motion to destroy us one way or another.”

We can’t allow that to happen, gentlemen,” Christian said as he looked from one to the other.

“At least it’s the university a-holes who’ll be forced to deal with this. I bet their attorneys will have this article retracted within a week, maybe sooner.” Weston folded it neatly, shoving it into his jacket pocket.

“That’s not the point, and you know it. However, if anyone asks us questions, then we’ll deal with it. Until then, we watch and wait to see who rears their ugly heads. And I assure you that they will.” Still, I was furious to the point additional security was in the process of being installed on every computer and communications system.

If the fucker wanted to play hardball, then so be it.

“Go enjoy your day,” I told Weston, although the jealous beast wasn’t too far under the surface.

He suddenly had the same look cross his face that he’d expressed before. “There’s no reason we can’t enjoy her together.”

Christian snorted. “Are you suggesting we could share a woman for real?”

“Are you dating anyone?” he asked. “Are you, Clinton?”

I shrugged.

Christian slowly turned his head towards Maria. “I’ve been busy with building the business.”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re going to say the same thing, Clinton?”

This time I lifted my eyebrow. “We live in different parts of the country, gentlemen. Unless she’s interested in a few nights of passion only, I’m not certain what our attraction could matter.” We barely knew the girl, but she had certainly sparked all our interests.

“It could be fascinating to see if it could work out. She does travel more than we do.” Christian chuckled. “But we can’t be serious. We’re grown men who need to eventually settle down.”

“Who said anything about settling down?” Weston threw in. “As mentioned, the girl is tough. What makes you think she’d want anything other than a casual fling?”

“Notice our boy here is certain he’s going to get her between the sheets. Talk about over confidence,” Christian said, laughing.

Christian had lightened up in the years that had followed our graduation. It was good to see the banter between us was the same. “Let’s face it, gentlemen. One night destroyed a huge part of us. Whether we want to admit it or not.”

Weston shook his head.

When neither one of them said anything, I thought about the suggestion. “But we could see what happens for old times’ sake. Maria has the night off. I know the perfect place where we can spend some quality time while engaging in pure sin. Are the two of you game?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Weston answered.

I folded my arms and walked closer by a few feet. She seemed to be eyeing us carefully. When she removed her sunglasses, giving all three of us a onceover, I decided to take matters into my hands.

“All kidding aside. What would you think about keeping her?”

Weston flanked my side. “Are you being serious?”

“I am.”

“As a pet?” Christian asked.

“Perhaps. Perhaps more.” I mulled over the idea. Suddenly, a risky scenario slipped into the back of my mind. I wanted the crap with both The Iceman and Theo’s dad to be finished with once and for all. There was one way to ensure that happened.

To use a lure.

“And the logistics?” Weston asked.

I tipped my head towards Weston. “We’re three of the most powerful and wealthiest men in the world. I think we can handle logistics when they arise.”

He laughed. “You’re right, my friend. And I must admit, even though I’ve spent only a little time around her, she would be incredible to own.”

“There’s another reason,” Christian said as he studied my expression. “Isn’t there?

The deep breath I took didn’t fill my lungs. I had an ache inside for the woman and the thought of putting her in harm’s way was damning, yet it might be the single time we could effectively work together to eliminate our enemy. If things worked out, then we’d own a beautiful pet. “The obvious objective of both The Iceman, if he still exists or handed his legacy to someone else, as well as that of William Watkins is to either destroy or kill all three of us.”

Weston got in my face. “You want to use her as bait. You son of a bitch.”

“Not bait exactly.”

“Then what the fuck do you call it?”