Chapter 56

Owen looked around, taking in every detail of the place Shannon had chosen.

"You picked a winner here, Shannon. No doubt about it. No false advertising here."

La Zamira was just as she'd promised. The medium-sized restaurant had a full house, the air redolent with the scents of spices used in the excellent Cuban cooking. The tostadas—Cuban bread buttered and toasted on a grill—along with the scrambled eggs and seasoned sausage had just hit the spot. Now, he enjoyed his second cup of café con leche—coffee with warm milk—and thought he hadn't felt so at peace in more than fifteen years.

Sad, Cormier. Very sad.

But he'd chosen this life. Or maybe it had chosen him.

Shannon McRae was an anomaly. The one night they'd spent together two years before had been burned into his brain. But last night surpassed even the memory. He didn't want to admit the reason might be because now he had a name to go with the face and body and information to form a picture of the woman herself. He'd long a