Jack rubbed his head. "For now. I know you haven't been sleeping; neither have I. We'll get up early and start fresh."

Replacement huffed; her lower lip pouted, but Jack could see dark circles under her eyes.

"Go to sleep, kid."

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep with me?"

Yeah, I do but...

"I'm good. Go to bed."

She walked to her bedroom door, turned around, and gave a little wave.

Jack stripped to his boxers, pulled the back cushions off the couch for a little more room, and then stared up at the ceiling.

Someone has her. In a kidnapping, they try to keep the victim unharmed. Marisa must be going out of her mind.

Jack thought he'd never sleep, but as he closed his eyes and tried to drive the images from his mind, he slowly nodded off.

Hot desert sand whipped in the wind and thrashed his arm. Chandler shoved Jack's shoulder as he opened his eyes. He shook his head. A glance at his watch told him what his mind already knew-it had been over fifty-two hours since he'd slept.

"May I have the attention of the infidels?" a man with a thick Arabic accent shouted from the building across the street.

Jack, along with seventy-three other soldiers, perked his ears up. He was on the third floor of what was left of a motel. Directly across from him, in what used to be an office building, insurgents held Private E2 Jeremy Billings hostage. Jeremy had his arms tied behind his back; blood and tears ran down his face. He looked as if he could barely stand on his own. It had been fifty-two hours of h.e.l.l for him. Jack was surprised at how well he was holding up.

For fifty-two hours, soldiers who surrounded the building begged for permission to rescue their comrade, but all requests had been denied. Some new negotiator was en route, and the terms of engagement had changed overnight.

Every couple of hours, they would drag Jeremy out, and the same man would yell out different things about Jeremy's life. The beginning was always the same. He'd call for their attention and then tell them about Jeremy. They had found some of the information from the letters Jeremy had on him when he was captured. The other information they had tortured out of him.

Fifty-two hours ago, Jack had never seen Jeremy. Now he knew his father's name was Carl and his mother's was Wendy. He got his first kiss in the sixth grade and was a newlywed married to a girl named Angie. She had a birthmark on her cheek and her hair smelled like strawberries. She liked to walk in the woods and paint. Jeremy wrote to her every day, and they were expecting their first child.

"Occupiers," the man called out again, "you have our demands. We call for an immediate withdrawal of all troops. If not, the blood of this man is on your hands and his memory will haunt you to the gates of h.e.l.l."

He's a soldier doing his duty. Not a p.a.w.n.

Chandler gripped his gun and Jack could hear his teeth grinding.

"Jeremy Billings just wants to go home to his beloved childhood sweetheart. He longs to hold his unborn child. Shall I read the end of her letter to him?"

Another soldier crept closer to Jack and leaned against the wall. Jack turned his hands out and glared.

The soldier shook his head, but Jack could see the pain in his eyes. "Stand down, they said." The man's voice was low. "We are not to engage."

Jack slammed his fist into the concrete.

They're surrounded. They have no way out. They know they're going to die.

The terrorist called out from across the street in a strange clipped tone, "Baby. I can't wait to see you. Two more weeks. I love you. I'm blessed that you'd marry me. You're my best friend, and I know you'll be the best father. I can't wait to hold you."

It turned Jack's stomach to hear the guy twist the girl's words.

Jeremy's head sagged forward, and someone behind him grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked him back.

"I gave you forty-eight hours," the man called out. "It has been fifty-two. His wife will be a widow and his child an orphan, and it's because of you."

A gunshot rang out, and silence descended upon the street, but for only a moment.

Jeremy's body was tossed over the balcony.

Jack and the other seventy-three soldiers opened fire before the body hit the ground. Jack unloaded his a.s.sault rifle into the three murderers who were blown to bits in a hail of bullets.

Chandler's ma.s.sive light machine gun spewed casings in a wide arc. Jack kept firing until his gun was empty and then reloaded and fired again. When those bullets were gone, he unloaded his pistol.

The soldier beside him didn't move; he just stared at his shaking hands. Jack looked at Chandler, who hadn't taken his eyes off Jeremy's body as it lay in the street.

Jack turned away as a little girl with red hair and freckles stood in front of him.

I'm dreaming. Wake the h.e.l.l up.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No parties and no birthdays," she started to sing. "No tuck-ins and no play days. No hugs and no kisses. Just a bunch of lost wishes."

Jack slumped down against the wall and turned to Chandler, but Jeremy now sat there instead, and the little girl was gone.

Jeremy nodded as he took his helmet off. "Hey."

Jack swallowed and tried to close his eyes, but he couldn't.

"Can I ask you one question?" Jeremy ran his fingers through his hair. "Can you check in on my wife?"

"I did." Jack rubbed his hands on his pants; the sand sc.r.a.ped his skin. "When I got back, I went to see her."

Jeremy smiled. "Thanks."

Jack squeezed his eyes closed as he fought for air. Gasping, he started to breathe. His body started to relax. He felt as though he'd been bench-pressing three hundred pounds for hours, and now his muscles went limp.

Someone lifted the blanket and slid over him. Tender hands skimmed his skin and supple yet strong arms held him close. He relaxed into them. The soft body slid into the s.p.a.ce between the back of the couch and him. He shifted over. With his eyes still closed, he let his head fall back, and he felt the warmth of the body next to him.

When Jack slowly opened his eyes and looked down, it wasn't Replacement's arms he found himself in: it was Kiku who was partly on top of him, wrapped in a thin sheet and a T-shirt, holding him. Her right eye was almost swollen shut and a deep bruise ran from her cheek to her jaw, but she cradled his body against hers. Jack wanted to say something, but instead his eyes just locked on hers. There was an understanding there. He could tell she saw it, too. It wasn't s.e.xual, but they shared a bond.

Pain. They had both been broken.

He slumped against the couch, and she laid her head down. His whole body felt weak. After the nightmares, he could barely move, and the last thing he wanted to do was think. He could hear her heartbeat; the warmth of her skin radiated through the thin sheet into his. There was no shame about lying there, but there was nothing s.e.xual about it, either. He let go.

"You were an orphan, Officer?" She spoke softly.

Jack nodded his head. "Yes."

"Your mother was a prost.i.tute?"

Jack nodded.

"Mine was, too. My father was j.a.panese. She was Korean."

"Is that how you ended up in the Yakuza?"

"Yes. They took me in. They protected me."

Jack exhaled.

Funny what she considered protection.

"Officer, can you love?"

Jack thought about it, but didn't answer the unusual question. They just lay there awhile. Jack didn't want to move. Right now, he didn't have to think; he just wanted to feel.

"I see love in Marisa's sketches of you. She loves you. I see it in the way Alice looks at you. But you...you hold back, and I wonder...can you love?"

Jack closed his eyes as she shifted her head against his chest. Kiku's arms tightened slightly. She continued.

"I don't know if I can." Her sigh ran across his chest. "I have been with men, but I have never loved."

Jack breathed in deeply. Her head rose and fell as he breathed.

"When life has beaten a person down, one withdraws," she said.

Jack's mind raced with the thought.

"Do you know how to grow tomato plants?" she asked.

His brows pulled together as he lopsidedly grinned at her. Her mind worked in such tangents. "No."

Kiku softly touched his chest. "I grew some plants on my balcony when I first came here. There was a frost, and I thought they died. I started five plants. Four died. But the plant that lived, it started with three leaves. When the frost came, the plant pulled back all of its nutrients from its leaves so the plant itself would live. It survived, but those leaves died."

He softly touched the ends of her hair.

"Is that what happened to me?" Jack could hear a slight tremor in her voice. "Did I cut off my feelings to survive? Is that why I can't love?"

He could feel her breath on his neck. She exhaled again as she lifted her head up.

"I watched you in the restaurant, and you intrigued me. I could see you knew the danger, but you still went ahead. That is the kind of man women love."

"What kind?"

"The kind of man who would journey into h.e.l.l to get them back." Her fingers ran down along his jaw, and she slowly lifted his chin. "Why did you tell the Mancinis to let me go?"

Jack closed his eyes. "I need you to find Marisa."

Her hand moved up to the side of his face and softly touched his brow. "You still lie to me."

Jack debated for a minute. "You didn't take her. You don't think the Yakuza did, either."

"They didn't."

"Does Takeo tell you everything?" Jack waited, but she said nothing.

"You know what the old Italian said is true." She laid her head back down.

"I do."

"Do you know who Damocles is?"

Jack shook his head.

"Damocles worked for King Dionysius. One day, Damocles said Dionysius was so lucky to be king. Dionysius answered, 'If you think I'm lucky, how about you try out my life?' Damocles agreed and enjoyed his position until he noticed a huge sword hanging by a horsehair over his head. He saw then what the true price of being king is."

"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."

"When you went to see Takeo and threatened him with harm if something happened to Severino's daughter, you put a sword over his head. Because you are a police officer-he did not kill you-but he will not let you leave that sword dangling long."

Jack lay there as he looked up at the ceiling. Their breathing fell into sync, helping him relax even more.

"He told you I was sent to kill you, but you still asked for me back. Why?"

Jack touched her arm. "Something you said. You and me. We're a lot alike." His mind flashed back to the soldier. "I followed orders blindly once. But I don't do that anymore. I couldn't just let you die."

"If Marisa dies," she whispered, "you will die, too."

Jack closed his eyes.

"And it will be me who must kill you."

"You'll have to get in line." Replacement's voice was just below a growl.

Jack's eyes flew open as he sat up and dropped Kiku onto the couch.

Kiku lay there, loosely wrapped in the sheet.

Replacement stood with her arms at her side and her feet spread apart.

"Nothing happened." Jack held up one hand.

"It is not what it appears." Kiku stood up. "Jack had a nightmare and I came out to check on him. There was nothing s.e.xual about it."