Seven months later.

The air coming off the Puget Sound was crisp and deeply fragrant, carrying the scent of sea salt and fresh-cut cedar. Clara stood at the edge of the newly constructed plaza, one hand resting protectively over the massive, swollen curve of her belly, the other tracing the smooth

The rain was coming down in relentless, grey sheets, blurring the neon signs outside the window of the St. Regis hotel bar.

Julian Thorne sat alone in a dark leather booth in the back corner, a half-empty glass of Macallan resting on the black marble table in front of him. The bar was sterile, hus