When Dr. Lambert answered the door and saw Timmy, he looked like he might pee his pajama bottoms. Over the PJs he was wearing a robe made of some slick and shiny material.

Timmy fingered the lapel. “In this movie I saw a coupla years ago, a guy was wearing a robe just like this. Big black dude. Drug kingpin. He blew somebody’s head off with a forty-five, point blank.” He put the tip of his index finger against the bridge of the doctor’s nose, jabbed it, and said, “Pow! He probably had to throw the robe away. Brains are hard to wash out.”

The doctor blinked rapidly and nervously licked his lips. “Where’s Goliad?”

“Last I heard, he was gonna crash on the Hunts’ sofa.” He strolled over to the bar, picked up the twenty-five-year-old special reserve scotch, uncapped it, sniffed it, then drank directly from the bottle.

“H…how’d you know where I live?”

“Goliad pointed the building out to me. I’m in training, you know. I need to know these things.”

“Did you come alone?”

“Just me.” Timmy spread his arms wide, the movement sloshing whiskey out of the bottle. “Oops.” He looked at the splashes on the floor. “Reminds me. Down in the main lobby? How do they get the floor to glow like that?”

The doctor cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, constructed of a translucent material and illuminated from underneath.”

“Illuminated. Huh. Well, it’s cool-looking.”

“I don’t think Goliad would appreciate your using his name to bluff your way into a private residence.”

“No, he probably wouldn’t.” He cocked his head to one side and closed one eye. “I just figured it out.”

“What?”

“What your head reminds me of. I’ve been trying to think of it, and it just now came to me. A suppository.” He chortled. “I guess that’s how you can keep it so far up your own ass.”

Lambert pulled the belt on his robe tighter. “Why didn’t Goliad come with you?”

“Because I didn’t invite him.” Casually and with confidence, he turned his back on the doctor. The douche wasn’t going to do anything, but even if he stupidly attempted it, Timmy could see their reflections in the walls of glass that enwrapped the living room.

“This is some place. On a clear night, you must have a real nice view. Being up this high, I mean.” He leaned forward slightly and looked at the street below. “Long way down. Long, long way.”

“What do you want, Timmy? Has there been an update on Dr. O’Neal’s whereabouts?”

“Not that I’ve heard. She’s got great tits, doesn’t she?”

“I haven’t noticed.”

Timmy barked a laugh at that and turned away from the window. “Why am I not surprised?”

That remark goaded the doctor into taking a G.I. Joe stance, which, with the shiny robe and all, was downright comical. “I’m compelled to report your coming here to the Hunts, by way of Goliad. I understand he’s your supervisor.”

“Know what he called me?”

“Sorry?”

“Goliad. I overheard him talking to one of the guys who chauffeurs the Hunts around. Goliad called me a cockroach.”

“That was certainly unkind of him.”

“Unkind?” Timmy laughed. “Highest compliment he could’ve paid me. Know why? Because cockroaches have survived for kazillions of years because they’re adaptable.”

The doctor didn’t say anything, just nodded.

“Well, see, I’m adaptable.” He used both hands to point to his chest. “If a situation does an unexpected one-eighty on me, and things go to shit, I don’t look back to see what went wrong and cry over it. No. I stay cool and keep my eyes forward.” He made an arrow of his hand and aimed it ahead of him. “And—I swear, I’ve got the devil’s own luck—the turnaround usually winds up working to my benefit.”

With a maneuver he’d mastered over years of practice, he removed the switchblade from his sleeve and flicked it open. The doctor jumped like a rabbit. Flashing him a cunning smile, Timmy calmly began flipping the knife end over end, catching it by the handle each time.

“This brouhaha is over the lady doctor making off with the magic potion, or youth serum, or holy water, whatever it is, right?” He laughed at Lambert’s startled expression. “I can see that you, like everybody else, thought I didn’t know that, but how stupid would I have to be not to figure it out?

“I saw the paperwork Mallett had such a hard-on for. That metal box came from some pharmaceutical lab in Ohio. All hush-hush. Two doctors competing for possession of it. And a senator frantic to get his hands on it.” He stopped the flipping and pointed the knife at Lambert. “What is it?”

Lambert’s gaze was fixed on the switchblade. He probably couldn’t work up a spit, but he eked out, “I’m not at liberty to say.”

Timmy held his pose for a long time, then shrugged abruptly. The doctor flinched again. “That’s okay,” Timmy said. “I probably wouldn’t understand your medical mumbo jumbo, and anyhow I don’t give a fuck what it is.

“I just know that the Hunts want it, and want it bad. What do I want, you ask? I want to win their favor, get in good with them, suck that sugar tit that Goliad’s had to himself all these years. The way to do that? Solve the problem.”

The doctor’s eyes shifted from the knife up to Timmy’s eyes. “How do you propose to do that?”

“It’s so simple, it’s a mystery to me why nobody’s thought of it.” He laughed and took another swig of the whiskey.

Chapter 28

12:50 a.m.

Brynn missed his weight on her, the tickle of hair against places where her body was smooth, the scent of his skin, the overall feel of him on her and inside her. The tumult was over, but she wasn’t done savoring the aftermath.

With regret, she opened her eyes.

Rye lay facing her, perfectly still, staring at her as though he’d been waiting for her to come out of the post-orgasmic daze in which he’d left her. He touched her neck with the tip of his index finger. “Does that hurt?”

“No.”

“I didn’t mean to bite that hard.”

“You didn’t. My skin bruises if you look at it hard.”

“Any bruises from last night when I held you to the ground?”

“One.” She rolled toward him so he could see her back.

He grimaced and gently stroked the spot just above her hip. “I’m sorry. I’ve been rough on you.” As though talking to himself, he added, “I’m rough on everybody.”

“The person you were talking to on the phone earlier?”

His eyes sharpened on her. He stopped caressing, but his sudden withdrawal was more than tactile.

“I came out of the bathroom just as you tossed your phone onto the dresser. You seemed upset.”

He turned onto his back. “How much did you overhear?”

“‘Love you, too.’”

He didn’t say anything.

Brynn plucked at the hem of her pillowcase. “Wife?”

“No.”

She let go a shaky breath. “A little late for me to be asking, but I’m relieved to know I didn’t commit adultery.”

“You’re safe on that score. In fact, you’re safe on every score.”

He flung back the sheet and got up. Moving to the window, he checked the parking lot. “Our friend is still there.”

The phone he’d gotten from her dad had been charging on the nightstand. He unplugged it and checked the readout. “Good to go. You’d better start calling anybody you trust with your new number.” As he made his way toward the bathroom, he scooped his jeans off the floor.

Startled by his abruptness, Brynn sat up and held the sheet against her chest. “Are you coming back?”

“No. I’ll keep a lookout. You want the bathroom first?”

She gave a small shake of her head and pulled the covers up to a more modest level. “You go ahead.”

“I won’t take long.”

He didn’t. She’d heard the commode flush. The shower ran for about ninety seconds. Several minutes later, he came out. He was wearing his jeans; his hair was still wet. He didn’t look her in the eye. In fact, he didn’t look at her at all.

He picked up his shirt, went to pull it on, and noticed that the sleeves were inside out. He flapped the shirt to shake loose the bunched fabric. “Why don’t you sleep for a while. If he leaves, I’ll wake you up.”

“You should sleep, too.”

“Heard that already. From Dash.”

“You talked to him?”

“Texted him while I was in the bathroom. Sent him my new phone number.”

“Has he heard anything more from Wilson?”

“No, and I asked.”

“Maybe they’re responsible for the car outside.”

“If they had tracked us here, we would know it. They wouldn’t be covert.”

She thought so, too, which made her even more leery of the policeman outside. Wilson and Rawlins were a threat, but they were restricted to abiding by the law. The worst they could do was detain her and prevent her from getting to Violet in time.

A corrupt lawman posed much more danger, as did Goliad and Timmy, who were lawless and would go to extremes on behalf of Richard Hunt. She only had to look at Rye’s left hand to be reminded that they could strike with violence. “You never put anything on those cuts.”

“They’re fine.” One of the sleeves was still bedeviling him.

“Stop fighting with that. If you won’t lie down, at least sit down.”

“Why are you nagging me?”