Baldwin liked Sir Nigel. He was down-to-earth, pragmatic, and not a bit of help.

“I checked all of our files. We don’t have a record of ever using Julius, anywhere. Granted, that’s not much of a surprise. These kind of men are best left off paper.”

“Isn’t that the truth. Well, I appreciate your help.”

“There is someone who might know, though. I’ve got a call in to him. As soon as I hear back, I’ll ring.”

“Thank you. I owe you one.”

“Certainly. Till then.”

Julius. Where the hell are you, man?

Atlantic insisted Julius had simply gone off the reservation, but Baldwin wasn’t so sure. Julius had always been so reluctant. Terribly good at his job, a world-class sniper, but with a code. He wasn’t like many of the guns for hire. Julius was a thinking man’s assassin. Baldwin actually liked the man.

If anything, Julius had decided enough was enough and had dropped off the grid because he was tired of the job. He’d done this before. Baldwin had talked him into coming back.

That time, he’d tracked him to a cozy hidey-hole in Amsterdam, but so far he hadn’t shown up there.

Baldwin closed his laptop and sat back in the chair. The house was too quiet without Taylor. He missed her. God, he missed her.

If he found Julius, he was going to have to go talk him off the ledge and bring him back home, make sure he wasn’t going to lose his edge. But all he really wanted to do was catch the next plane to Edinburgh.

The texts had arrived in the middle of the night, polite and noncommittal. And he, not wanting to look like he was desperately awaiting word, had waited to respond. He got out his BlackBerry and read them again.

Tried to imagine where she was right now, what she was doing. What ridiculously charming event Memphis had planned for her.

He was being petty. He knew Taylor wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their relationship. He understood her desire to get away. Hell, if it had been him, he’d have collapsed long ago. She’d find her way back to him. Didn’t they always say that if you loved someone to set them free?

The phone rang. He hoped to see the 615 area code, but no luck. It was Ainsley again.

He answered on the second ring.

“That was fast.”

Ainsley didn’t waste any time. “He went to Argentina.”

“Are you kidding? What’s in Argentina?”

“Wine and alpacas. Probably a woman, too. Who knows why they choose these places. I’ll send you the specifics. With any luck, you’ll catch up to him.”

“With any luck. Thank you, again. I appreciate the information.”

“Be well, Dr. Baldwin.”

“And you.”

He hung up the phone. Fuck. Argentina? Julius, you asshole.

His email dinged. The information from Ainsley. He read it, forwarded it to Atlantic.

The reply came back almost immediately.

Just received the same information. He’s not there anymore. We got a hit on one of his identities. He took a flight from Buenos Aires to Amsterdam last night. Hope your passport’s ready.

Perfect. Amsterdam he could handle. It would get him closer to Taylor, anyway.

Atlantic’s people would arrange his flights. With any luck, he could be in Europe by nightfall. He’d be met by someone from Angelmaker; they’d grab up Julius and he’d be finished before Christmas.

Then he could get his focus back. On his missing son. On Taylor.

He banged out a text before he went to pack.

Taylor, that’s good news. I’m glad your meeting went so well. I am leaving shortly for the airport. I’ll do my best to be in touch, but if you don’t hear from me, don’t worry. I’ll call as soon as I can. Be good. I love you.

He just hoped she’d be willing to have him when he got back.