"I didn't know what else to do. You sure you're all right, Mac?"

"You don't have to kick me again, at least for the moment. I'm back together again. It was just there for a moment that I wanted sex more than I wanted life. Hell, I thought having sex at that very moment was life. How can there be people who would pay for this drug?"

She lightly touched her fingertips to my mouth. "Just let me know if I have to kick you again."

"I don't think so," I said slowly. We sat down and leaned against a scrubby tree I couldn't identify. It gave about as much shade as a single leaf on one of the trees I couldn't identify in the rain forest.

"They didn't kill us, Mac. They brought us down here and they haven't done anything but play with us, ugly games, but no torture. Drug dealers don't do that. Drug dealers eliminate anyone they perceive as a threat to their operation. When they fired on us at Seagull Cottage, they weren't trying to kill us. They just wanted us under wraps, inside the cottage, so they could use the ice acid and bring us to wherever we are."

"Maybe they took us because they wanted guinea pigs for the drug."

"They can pull people off the street to experiment on. They wouldn't take four federal agents to do that." She took my hand. "I know this is tough, Mac. But someone gave them orders not to kill us. The only person I can think of who cares whether or not you live or die is Jilly. If you weren't involved, I think we'd be dead."

"No," I said. "It had to be Paul. He gave the order because he knew how much Jilly would be hurt if I was killed."

She swatted an insect off her knee. "I'm sorry, Mac. But you've got to think objectively about this. Four federal agents are in Edgerton, Oregon. Things are getting too hot. It's Jilly, Paul, Molinas, and Tarcher whose butts are on the line. They've got to buy some time so they can shut things down and clear out before the cops come to get them. There's another guy I told you a little about: Del Cabrizo, the head of the Maille cartel. We believe he's the kingpin behind the development of this drug. John Molinas is just one of his flunkies. He probably used Molinas just to get to Tarcher and to Jilly and Paul.

As to Alyssum Tarcher's exact role, I'd say he cut himself in by getting Paul and Jilly out to Edgerton.

"But I do know that Jilly is the only one who has the power to keep us alive. She's the only one with the leverage. We're kept alive or the problems getting the drug ready for the streets won't get solved.

"She left the hospital to get away from you, Mac. She knew you wouldn't stop pushing. She had no choice but to leave and hide out, and hope you just went home."

"My sister, no matter whatever else she possibly could have done, wouldn't drug me and set me over you like a dog in heat. She hates you because you betrayed her, not me."

"Jilly doesn't have a clue what they'd do to us. She's in Oregon, not here. But I'll tell you, Mac, she knows what kind of people they are. She had to have guessed they wouldn't treat us as valued guests."

She knew I didn't want to hear this. Bless her, she didn't say anything more about Jilly's role in all this mess. She knew I'd think about it.

"Who is that bald man in the compound?" I asked.

"I've been thinking about that. From your description, I'd say it has to be John Molinas. In the photo I saw of him he had a lot of thick black hair."

"I guess he thinks the shaved head is more intimidating."

Laura said, "If it is Molinas, I think he's here to make sure no one kills us. Maybe Jilly demanded insurance, insisted he be here to run the show. She wanted to make sure that Del Cabrizo wouldn't just have our throats cut. Maybe it was her way to protect you."

I rested my head on my crossed arms. I felt a huge wave of fatigue wash over me. No sex in this, no prodding lust, just sudden, utter exhaustion. "Laura," I said, trying to raise my head. "Laura, what the hell am I feeling now?"

I heard her voice, thin, far away, calling my name. I tried to look up but I didn't have the strength to lift my head. I clearly saw the terrorists in Tunisia, heard their voices, wondered if I would ever escape this mess alive, then there was the car, driving toward us, only there was no driver, and then it was a ball of flame and I was gone. Unholy fear ate into me. It seemed stronger, more corrosive now than when it had actually happened.

It was the effect of the damned drug again, I thought, but it didn't make any difference. The sun grew hotter, the air even drier. The heat was inside me, filling me. There was desolation everywhere and I was part of it. I had flown to the sun and fallen in.