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On Wednesday evening at 6:30, Russell Baker and I were jogging at Huntington Beach

He was shirtless and jaw-droppingly sexy, and it was all I could do not to stare at hiht have led to lances, every chance I had I wondered if it was unethical to lust after my client

"That’s a wild story, Samantha Moon," he said He always sounded so damn polite when he spoke to me Too polite I wanted him to soundinterested This surprised the hell out of o, when he’d first appeared atother than a client But watching his fights, watching his skills, seeing the coly peaceful aura for a fighter, well, sosley had broken ain

"It’s more than a theory," I said

"How can you be so sure, Samantha?" he said easily, smoothly, confidently

"Call , Sa insidefurther down?

I considered how s fairly sanitized for now "Romero hired Andre Fine to deliver the dim mak to his brother"

"The di his head, "is only a myth"

"Myth or not, Caesar Marquez died teeks later during your match, from no apparent punch or series of punches from you Most people I’d spoken to - from the referee to Jacky - don’t think you hit hie"

Russell shook his head "I’ed"

"It is what it is," I said, hatingin Russell’s presence, jogging together at the beach, so daht anyway

"I suppose so," said Russell shter It was hard to land anything on the guy"

"Could he have been champ?" I asked

"Maybe," said Russell, and he looked at h me first"

"Of course"

I smiled He smiled His sto into a blue trash can

Russell said, "You believe there’s so to the touch of death?"

"I do"