"Baby, I'll play with you any day, any time. You just name it." Stubb had the audacity to lean back in his chair and leer at Special Agent Kendal Smart with an insolent stare. His thick tongue licked dried, cracked lips. "I'll even provide the balls."

The sharp retort Kendal wanted to lash back with died unsaid. The Special Agent in Charge, her supervisor, sat behind the two-way mirror. If she ever had a prayer of going undercover, the last thing she needed was for him to see her lose her composure.

She planted her hands on the surface of the cool metal desk, then bent toward Stubb, breathing through her mouth in an effort to avoid his foul stench. "Tell us what you know about Sloan Rusen."

"He's the booker."

"We're aware of that fact." As if she didn't know Rusen arranged which pro wrestlers competed against each other and who would win. Her jaw started to ache from grinding her teeth. "We want to know about his extracurricular activities."

"Hookers?" Still leaning back, he propped his feet on the table. "He's got a bunch of 'em. You want to join 'em or bust 'em?"

She reined in her automatic reflex to grab him by his grubby shirt and heave him across the room. Male special agents could get away with sweating a suspect. She knew the supervisor wanted to see more finesse from her. "Neither. That's not where our interests lie. What do you know about his businesses?"

"I don' know nothin'. Why don' you let me go? You ain't got nothin' on me."

How she wanted to slam his head into the wall. That would be much more satisfying than making a deal with this sleazebag. "Have you forgotten why you're here? You're one short step from being locked up."

"Aw, I didn' do nothin'. Just a little crack and coke. Why don't you go ahead and bring in the big boys? Then you can go rest that pretty little head of yours."

That's it! One handed, she shoved his feet off the table. "Hey! Don't confuse the fact that I have breasts with the idea that I don't have brains or power." She put her face only inches from his. "I can put you so far away no one would ever know where you are. So if you want to keep your scrawny butt from being best friends with an inmate named Bruiser, I suggest you get a grip and start selling me on how you can help the FBI."

His eyes grew the size of saucers and his gaze bounced at everything in the room but her. Kendal straightened. Tugging her suit jacket by the bottom hem, she slipped back into the seat across the table. "Now that I have your attention, tell me what I want to know."

An hour later, she sat at her desk in the small cubicle, wishing she'd stayed in control during the interview. The other special agents' murmured voices drifted over the five-foot wall divider in the spacious room, and she wondered if they were already discussing her outburst.

Stubb hadn't been much help, and to top it all off, her supervisor had witnessed her momentary loss of control. The last thing she needed was for him to think she couldn't keep it together. Getting an undercover assignment meant proving over and over again she could handle the pressure. Hadn't her parents always said there was nothing more important than controlling all outward signs of emotion? Never let them see you sweat had been the family motto. She needed to remember that more than ever now.

Stubb didn't know any details. What good was he going to be? Her fingers started to drum on the top of her desk. She jerked them into her lap.

Could they trust him enough to send him back and expect him to report in? They couldn't disclose any details. Their only hope would be that he learned something without realizing it.

He'd probably run. Wanting to beat her head on the desk at her thoughts, Kendal rubbed her temples instead. How could they use him?

Shuffling from one foot to the other, Python conquered the urge to tug at the constrictive collar of his tuxedo. After twenty minutes of standing around, he was ready to walk away.

"I want one with Tiny and Python," Mega said from across the room. Maybe he should call her Megan now that she was married. Nah, he mentally shook his head. She would always be Mega to him.

"Of course," said Joe Franconi, her new husband.

A fleeting thought to try and hide occurred to Python. He knew it'd be useless, considering his size. Joe turned and grinned at him and Tiny, Mega's cousin, hulking in the corner.

"Tiny, Python. We need you."

As they ambled over, Python knew, since they were both built like tanks, that they looked like a couple of overblown king penguins. Tiny owned a tattoo shop, so naturally he was covered in vivid body art. Fortunately for Tiny, his tuxedo covered them, which made Python wonder about his own choices.

Why he ever decided to tattoo his entire bald head, he didn't have a clue. In his ordinary life the fact didn't bother him. But out of respect for Mega and her wedding, he was wearing a black kerchief.

Always ready to give Joe a hard time, Python asked, "You need something lifted, Law?"

The FBI agent chuckled. "No. Megan wants you for a picture."

In one step Python sidled up next to him and leaned in close. "You remember what I said, Law. You hurt, cheat, or abuse Mega in any way and you're gonna wish you were never born."

Clearly undaunted, the agent held Python's stare. "You know I love her."

"Yeah, I know." Even though it was begrudgingly, Python admitted the truth. Joe had shown beyond even the most cynical of doubts that he would do anything to be with Mega. And if Python was completely honest, he had known from the beginning that they were going to be together.

"There you are!" Mega grabbed their arms.

The photographer placed her in the middle between Python and Tiny. They must make a comical picture, Python thought, like a couple of bulldozers squashing a butterfly.

"All right. Now I want all the bridesmaids and groomsmen," the photographer said.

Python stepped aside as the other members of the wedding party took their places. When he caught the eye of the bridesmaid he'd escorted and she immediately glanced away, he tried not to interpret her look as one of revulsion.

When he'd been introduced to Alyssa, he'd had a fleeting moment of hope that she might be interested in him. Then her eyes had widened before narrowing to take in his painted head. That's when Python had known it wasn't going to happen.

It wasn't that she hadn't been polite. At the rehearsal dinner, they'd been seated next to each other. She'd chatted easily with him, yet neither of them had pried into the other's background.