Flirting With Temptation. Cara Summers

he wasn’t wearing a fedora or a trench coat. Nor did she see a dog. She says he pocketed a gun and ducked into a car right after the shot was fired.”

      “Two shooters?” He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

      “That’s the million-dollar question, and the answer is up for grabs. Eyewitnesses are never reliable, and there’s always the witness who’ll embroider a story just for the extra attention. But I’ve got some calls into informants. Nobody likes guns anywhere near airports. If there were two shooters, the two-million-dollar question is who were they shooting at? You got any idea?”

      “Maybe. But I need two favors.”

      “Yeah, like I didn’t know that when you walked through that door.”

      “First, I’d like to know who owns that dog as soon as you get it.”

      D.C. studied his friend. “You know something, don’t you?”

      “Maybe.”

      D.C. pulled out a notebook. “Fill me in.”

      Jack did, beginning with the first e-mail message he’d gotten from his anonymous informant and ending with the shot at the airport and his gut feeling that the Lewis family was involved.

      D.C. was frowning when Jack finished. “You’re big on theory and short on evidence.” He raised a hand to ward off Jack’s comments. “First of all, there’s nothing that links either gunman to the Lewis family.”

      “Yet,” Jack said. “I’m hoping the dog will.”

      For a moment, D.C. said nothing. He was a man who made a point of not wasting words, and he’d said it all before, beginning when they were eighteen and D.C. had stood at Jack’s side during the memorial service for his aunt. D.C. had never been as convinced as Jack that the Lewis family had had something to do with his aunt’s disappearance.