I winced. "No, I don't think so. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Please. I wouldn't expect you to remember me. I've changed a lot since you saw me last, even if it wasn't that long ago."

I peered down at her. "Alright. You've baited the hook and thrown in the line. Do you want me to just swim around a little before I go for it, or would you prefer it if I just grabbed on tight so you could reel me in?"

"Sorry." Her smile came again, bright and white. "My name's Ericka, and you saved my life, once."

"In the Bog?"

"Yup. Mouse and her buddies were set on having me for dessert, but you made sure they went home empty handed." She shook her head, her long blonde hair fanning out in amber waves behind her. "You were amazing. I'd never seen a woman fight like that before. It was... unbelievable."

It was my turn to blush and look down at my hands as the awe in her voice washed over me and brought with it, I'll readily confess, no small sense of pride. I remembered the incident vaguely, as I remembered most of those long ago fights in the Bog. There were so many that after awhile, they all just tended to blend together into one long, nearly never-ending conflict.

My pride wasn't so much with my fighting abilities, such as they were-and are-but rather with the simple fact that I was given the opportunity to help in the first place. It felt good to know that I was a person others could look to for help, just as it felt good to remember that fact. Especially now, when all it seemed I could do was to seek out and rely upon the help of others.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," she said softly, laying a gloved hand on my thigh in a gentle touch.

"You didn't. It's just..." I sighed. "That's not important now. I'm glad I could help."

"I'm glad you could, too. It was the closest I ever came, I think, to dying. Quickly, I mean. I'd been dying slowly for years."

"How do you mean?"

She shrugged again. "I was hooked on drugs for a long time. Cocaine, mostly. My arrest should have given me a wake-up call, but it didn't. Drugs were easier to get in the Bog than they were on the streets." Her laugh was mirthless. "Course, the price was higher. And when I finally decided to stop paying it, well... you walked in on the result. That's when I decided to quit. Cold turkey all the way. It was really hard, especially at first. But every time I was tempted to score some more coke, I remembered the look on your face when you walked into that room and started beating the crap out of those idiots. And I figured that if someone like you could care so much for someone like me, someone you didn't even know, then I figured maybe it was time that I started caring for myself, too."

"That's a wonderful story."

"Every word's the truth. You saved my life in more ways than one that day, Angel. And I told myself that if I ever got the opportunity to thank you, I would." She looked directly at me, the fire of sincerity burning in her bright hazel eyes. "Thank you. I mean that, from the bottom of my heart."

Jumping down off the fence-post, I pulled her into a tight hug and felt her return the embrace with strength and vigor. Pulling away, I smiled at her. "You're welcome, Ericka."

She blushed again. "Well, actually, they don't call me that anymore."

"No?"

"Nope. See, when I heard that you were an Amazon, I decided that I wanted to be one as well. Kinda schoolgirl crush-like of me, I know, but that's how I was back then. So I started working out to get back into shape again, and started hanging out with some of the other Amazons. And then, right after you were released, they made me an Amazon." She grinned, gesturing to herself. "I'll bet you can guess what they named me."

Taking a step back, I made a show of carefully examining her from tip to toe. "Cowgirl, right?"

"Got it in one."

"Figures. Amazons," I snorted, "not an original one in the bunch."

Her laugh and the dinner bell sounded at the same time, jolting me a little. She touched my shoulder in sympathy. "Did that to me the first couple of times, too." Then she looked down at herself, shaking her head. "Well, I'd better get cleaned up before Montana gives me fifty kinds of holy hell for tracking dirt through the house again. See you at dinner?"

"Sounds great!"

That night, sleep claimed me more easily than it had in a very long time. The evening had passed quickly and, for the most part, pleasantly as I spent the time exchanging spirited banter with Cowgirl, Montana and Corinne and ignoring the other end of the table, where Rio held court, her fawning cronies slavish to her every word and action.

That I actually felt tired when it came time to turn in was a blessing in itself, and once the lights were turned off and a quiet good-night was said to my absent lover, I turned to my side, closed my eyes, and remembered nothing until I woke up again.

Which, unfortunately, seemed to be smack-dab in the middle of the night, judging from the absolute lack of light from the direction of the window.

My heart rate was up, though not from fear. At least I didn't think so. A feeling more akin to anticipation washed through my body, standing the hairs up on my arms and behind my neck. I had the feeling of being watched, though I knew, beyond all shadow of a possible doubt, that I was most definitely alone.

Had it been a dream? Some nightmare which had evaporated back into the dark mist the second I opened my eyes?

No. Nightmares and I were old friends, especially of late. And this simply didn't feel like the aftereffects of one of their regular visits.

What then?

Cautiously, as soundlessly as I could, I turned from my side to my back.... and almost jumped clean out of my skin when my cheek brushed against something soft, cool and giving.

Scrabbling backward, I almost fell off the bed, my arm reaching somehow behind me to turn on the light. My free hand curled into a tight fist as I blinked against the bright light, breathing in quick pants through my nose as I waited for my eyes to adjust to the change.

"What the... ?"

Laying on the pillow, completely devoid of thorns, lay one perfect, blood-red rose.

I stared at it dumbly for a long moment, my mind not comprehending what my eyes were seeing.

As if still asleep and dreaming, I watched as my hand slowly snaked out, fingers extended to their maximum length and gently brushing the stem before pulling away slightly, as if afraid they would be bitten. I looked on as they approached the rose again, this time taking it into a careful grip and pulling forward until the bloom was directly under my nose.

Inhaling deeply, I was unable to stop the smile which spread across my face.

"Ice," I sighed with pleasure as I took another deep breath, then gently brushed the incredibly soft petals against my cheek.

Then I stopped, abruptly, as I realized where I was and what I was doing.

My heart sped up again.

"Ice?"

Wide-eyed, I craned my neck until the vertebrae popped, scanning every inch of the room for my lover's dark presence.

My first waking impulse was confirmed, however.

I was completely alone.

Adrenaline shot me out of bed like a rocket, and my hand was twisting the doorknob open before my feet even realized they'd hit the floor. Yanking the door open wide, I stepped into the dim hallway, almost colliding with Corinne, who filled up part of said hallway, her head cocked at an odd angle, as if listening to something I couldn't hear.

The near collision brought Corinne's attention to me, and she took a long look at the rose that was still in my hand before dragging her eyes up to my own. "Secret admirer?" she asked, smirking.

"Where is she?"

"Your admirer? I may be good, Angel, but even I'm not that good. To ascertain where she might be, one would have to first know who she might be, yes?"

A harsh, barely restrained whisper from the living-room cut off my retort and I pushed Corinne none-too-gently out of my way as I strode down the long hallway, preparing myself for the much awaited sight of my lover.

What I received instead, however, was the vision of Montana and Rio at right angles to one another; the former standing calmly with a piece of white paper in one hand; the latter gesturing wildly, her face brick with barely controlled rage.

"Do it, Rio. Now. I won't ask you again," Montana said, her voice calm and uninflected.

"Fuck that, Montana. Everything was fine here before that blonde-headed bitch came down here."

"What's going on, Montana?" I said upon hearing my cue.

Rio whirled at the sound of my voice, her dark eyes absolutely blazing with anger. "You!"

Reaching out, Montana easily spun the much larger woman around to face her. "Now, Rio."

After a long moment, Rio's broad shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine," she said, jerking away from Montana. Whirling again, she strode toward me, her fists clenched tightly at her side.

I braced myself for what was coming, both unwilling and unable to back down from her dangerous threat.

At the last second, she stepped left, jarring my shoulder with the side of her body. The rose in my hand flew loose from the impact, and, turning, I watched helplessly as she kicked it against the door, scattering the beautiful petals across the floor and crushing a few beneath her boot as she left the house, slamming the door behind her.

I turned slowly back. "Montana?"

"I'm sorry, Angel," she whispered.

"What's going on?"

Walking until she drew even with me, she handed me the sheet of paper she was holding.

It was a note. That much I could tell from my first quick scan. Unsigned, but that didn't matter, as I knew the bold handwriting as well as I knew the beat of my own heart.

If I were Cavallo, you'd all be dead.

Let me down like this again, and you'll wish I was.

"Ice wrote this," I said, stating the obvious.

"Yes. I found it stuck into my headboard with this." Holding her other hand out, she displayed a wicked-looking knife, its sharp edge glimmering malevolently in the dim lighting.

"Where is she?"

"Gone." She sighed. "Long gone."

"And you sent Rio to find her?"

"No. Rio's one of the best there is, but even she couldn't find Ice if she doesn't want to be found. Rio's in charge of security here. I sent her off to call for some reinforcements."

"But why? Why doesn't she want to be found? Why didn't she stay? I don't understand." I felt those damn tears wanting to fall again, but at that point, I think I was just too angry to give them the satisfaction of wetting my cheeks.

Montana sighed. "I don't understand either, Angel. The one thing I do understand is that she was testing us; testing our defenses. And we failed. Miserably."

"You can't blame yourself for this, Montana. It's Ice we're talking about, after all. I mean, she's... was... is... hell, I don't know anymore... an assassin. This kind of thing is what she used to get paid to do, remember?"

"Yes, Angel. I remember. But how can I be sure she was wrong? How can I be sure that even if we didn't stop her, we could stop Cavallo? Or, for that matter, any half-baked idiot or jealous boyfriend who came in here wanting to tear the place up?" She looked down at the knife in her hand, turning it over, and over again. "I used to think we were up to any threat. Now I know how foolish that idea was."

"Montana, you can't..."

"Yes, I can, Angel. I can and I will. The lives of every woman here, including you, are my responsibility." She looked at me once again, her jaw square and tight. "I failed this first test. Thank god we all lived through it. I'll be damned if I fail again. If you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to."

Nodding to each of us in turn, she turned crisply and disappeared back down the opposite hall to what I assumed was her own room, leaving Corinne and myself to stare after her in shocked silence.

I spent most of the rest of the day shuttling wildly between anger and grief, hope and despair. Part of me was so angry at Ice that I wanted, given the impossible opportunity, to throttle her. Though I well understood her innate need to see to it that I was safe as it was possible for me to be, I didn't understand why that need had to come at the expense of my own innate need to see her, safe, whole, and, most importantly, free.

Much as it shames me to admit such a thing, part of me was glad Rio had bumped the rose from my hand and crushed it beneath the heel of her boot. The rest of me, however, spent long, painful moments on my knees, gathering up each and every petal I could find as some sort of tangible link to the woman who held my heart in her hands.

Since I knew that sleep wouldn't let me catch him quite so easily the second time around, I gave up even bothering to try, and instead showered and changed, then padded out to the kitchen, where work had already begun preparing meals for a new day as yet undawned.

Pitching in allowed the time to pass quickly and mindlessly, and before I knew it, I was up to my elbows in soap suds, washing away the fruits of my morning labors.

The kitchen crew, at least for breakfast, was made up of an older, quieter group of women who seemed far more interested in getting the meal made and the dishes cleaned than expending energy on gossiping about who did what to whom, when, where, and how often.

That's not to say there wasn't talk, because there was; just not very much of it.

After the last dish was washed, dried, and put away, I escaped the suddenly too small confines of the house, and stepped out into the warm, bright desert day with a distinct feeling of relief. Taking in a deep, cleansing breath, I allowed my feet to take me where they would, not at all surprised to find myself once again perched atop a corral fence-post as the horses were released from their night-time abode.

The bay stallion, of course, led the way, and I felt a little smirk form, tipping my figurative hat to him for getting the plum job of being the only male around for miles. He snorted and bobbed his head at me, as if in agreement, before bounding away, most of the herd in tow.

I watched his antics with pleasure, enjoying the way the sunlight dappled his coat and brought the thick, corded muscles of his massive body into sharp relief. He reminded me, more than slightly, of the horse Ice had carved for me last Christmas-almost a year ago, now.

God, has it really been a year? How could time have gotten away from me that quickly? How could...

Any further thoughts along that maudlin line were halted as I felt a gentle nudge to my knee. Startled, I almost lost my balance, but maintained it by grabbing onto the nudger, which in this case happened to be the nose of a beautiful dappled gray pony, who indignantly snorted my fingers from her nostrils.