"And now you, what the hell is your name?" Stern tossed Dewey some cuffs.

"Hyatt. Dewey Hyatt," he muttered, snapping the cuffs around his wrists.

Stern stared at him, his look assessing. "I think I need you to be secured a bit more than that." From his pocket he pulled out yet another set of cuffs. "One to your wrist, the other around that bookshelf behind you."

The snap of the cuff sounded final in a silence broken only by Harding's agitated breathing. With Dewey secured, Stern relaxed enough to pour himself a drink. The glass in one hand, gun steady in the other, he approached Phoebe, his feet sinking silently into the expensive carpet. She needed a move, but her mind was blank, her gaze locked with he was the cobra and she was a snake charmer without an instrument.

He stopped and studied her, something sexual flickering very briefly in his dead eyes. Her skin crawled, but she had to consider it. She didn't have a lot of options just now. Only she couldn't. She just couldn't.

She gave Dewey a quick, apologetic look and got a thumbs up as an answer. Okay. She took a deep breath. She'd play this scene as herself, whoever that was.

Stern sat in the chair next to Phoebe's and drank without taking his gaze off her. She didn't look away, even though it was like a glimpse into hell.

"So, Nadine-or should I call you Phoebe?"

"I haven't been Nadine for a long time."

"Okay. Phoebe." He drank again, a slight, very slight frown between his pale brows. "You...intrigue me."

This wasn't good.

"You're not going to obsess on me, too, are you? Doesn't seem like your style."

Stern smiled, one that was almost attractive. "No, it's not my style." The smile faded. "But you do present a-problem for me. Unlike these two, who tried to screw me over and failed..." He tossed back the last of his drink, then fixed her with a curious stare. "...you...didn't. Farley gave you all the credit for his change of heart when I left him in my place at the warehouse."

"Well, no need to get warm and fuzzy," Phoebe muttered, answering Dewey's incredulous look with a slight shrug. "I just didn't want to see anyone tortured to death. It wasn't personal."

His smile flickered again in the empty expanse of his face. "That doesn't change the fact that my only reason for killing you is what you know about me." He studied her dispassionately. "You appear to have an agile and devious mind. I'll be rebuilding my organization. I could use someone like you."

It seemed to be her week for job offers. Talk about deja vu.

"You're only interested in my mind?"

His gaze traveled down her body, then back up to meet hers.

"Of course."

"Well, as tempting as that is, I think I'll pass." Would he take no for an answer?

"Don't worry. Unlike our friend here, I prefer my women cooperative." He stood up. "Are you sure?" His gaze found hers, with regret and something else almost warming his eyes. They looked at her now, tempting her to give in to him. To survive.

Her body, her cowardly body, urged her to do it. It wasn't love, but life, any life, was better than dead.

Only her brain knew it wasn't true. She'd had "any" life. Lest she forget, she looked at that life, that past, sitting across the desk from her.

"I'm sure."

"All right then." He stood up. "That brings us to the question of RABBIT." He looked at Dewey. "I'd like to believe you got it to work, but it's a stretch."

"I just saw it working, on that helmet thing. We can still do this, Stern," Harding said. "We can have it all."

"What did he see?"

Dewey looked at Phoebe. She said, "Tell him the truth."

"VR smoke and mirrors. The chip is and always was crap."

Harding slumped in his chair, the ugliness of his soul now visible on his face.

"That's what I thought." Stern's gaze slid toward Phoebe again. "It's a pity you didn't limit your adventures in VR to video games for teens." He frowned, his gaze moving from Phoebe to Harding to Dewey, then back to Phoebe. "Normally I'd go from left to right around the room, because I like to be orderly, but for you-" He gave Phoebe a slight smile, "I'll kill Harding first."

Harding gasped as the barrel of the gun swung his way.

"You wanted revenge," Stern said to her.

"I wanted justice," she said.

"There he is. Montgomery Justice." In quick succession, he fired three times, the shots so close together they sounded like one. He looked at Phoebe.

Check and mate. Just like that, it was over. Harding was dead. This hadn't been the plan, but the world was better for it. She could lay her burden down. Die in peace. It didn't matter now, it was over.

"Was it as good for you as it was for me?" Stern sounded far away, at least a light year or two.

Only it did matter. She wanted to live, not die. She wanted to turn her devious brain to the problem of how to bridge the gap between a larcenous lady and a US Marshal.

Stern leaned over her, trapping her in the seat, not just with his body but with the menace he gave off like after-shave. He brought the gun up. "Last chance to change your mind, before it's splattered all over this expensive chair."

He might like her a little, but he liked killing more. She saw the anticipation in his eyes. Distantly, she knew Dewey was trying to break free of his bonds. For her, at this moment, there was only this man. This gun.

"I don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you this whole scene was being beamed to the cops and they're surrounding the place as we speak?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

His finger tightened on the trigger.

She jerked her hands, knocking the hand holding the gun up. Then she kicked him, low and hard. He doubled over, presenting his chin. She kicked that, and he staggered back, sprawling across the desk.

Too bad he'd managed to hang onto the gun. The barrel started to swing toward her as a stream of profanities poured from his mouth. The office doors burst open.

"Do not move!"

For the space of one heartbeat, Stern looked at Phoebe and she knew he was going to move. That he wanted to die. Why? Her mouth shaped the question, but it didn't come out. Then it didn't matter. He started to bring his gun around.

Their guns coughed at him. His body jerked one way, then the other, as bullets from both directions found him. He stopped, almost suspended in time, then fell back across the wide, dark desk.

He looked surprised. Blood trickled from his mouth onto the desk as he looked at her.