Or because she felt guilty Her eyes held the hawk I loved, the raptor avid to strike. Her jaw lifted at a combative angle, tightening to knots at the corners. Glints of light as cutting as serrations caught on the edges of her claw. Her purse hung over her shoulder, in easy reach. She could pull her .357 and fire faster than I could spit.

She terrified me. Always had. But none of that mattered now.

With a lifetime's abandonment in my voice, I demanded softly, "What the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

She gave me a grin like the arc of a circular saw.

"Hello, Brew. It's nice to see you, too."

I was supposed to respond in kind detached sarcasm, a sardonic bantering tone to blunt the loss. We'd treated each other that way for years, when we didn't know what else to do. But I no longer had it in me.

She'd left me for Marshal Clamping a grip onto her left arm above the elbow, I drew her toward the nearest wall. I couldn't afford to make a public spectacle of myself. I wanted to keep my job.

For some reason, she didn't resist, even though she hated being manhandled.

When we reached the wall, I let her go.

"I'm not playing here, Fistoulari." She was tall, but I had the weight and inches to loom over her.

"If I have to, I'll shout until they can hear me back home. What the ?".

"Calm down." She kept her grin.

"You don't have to yell. Marshal told me what happened. The outlines, anyway. I wasn't far away, so I came to see if you need help."

Oh, sure. Like that made sense. She wasn't far away. So she came to see if I need help. I wouldn't have believed her if she'd crossed her heart and hoped to die.

In the back of my head, I knew I wasn't this angry at her. Not for jerking me around, anyway. Her presence simply gave me an outlet for fury and grief that couldn't do Bernie any good. But I'd spent too many years holding back, and all at once I'd had enough of it.

Clenching my teeth, I rasped softly, "You don't have the right. You don't have the right to ask me anything, or offer me anything, or fucking tempt me with anything. I'm not your partner anymore, remember? You ditched me." Somehow I managed not to add, So you could go screw goddamn Marshal Viviter.

"You gave up all your rights with me."

That reached her somewhere. Her grin fell away. Gradually the smolder in her grey eyes faded to the softness of ash. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, then released it. For a moment I could see the marks on her skin.

Quietly she said, "This isn't easy for me, either."

I jumped in before she could go on, "I don't want to hear it. You didn't ask me whether I wanted to be ditched. You just did it. I don't care whether it's easy for you or not."

Instead of flaring back, she nodded.

"You're right."

Which surprised me so much that I took an internal step backward.

"I'm not being consistent," she went on.

"I know that. It must be making you crazy. But I feel like I've abandoned you, and I don't like it. That's why I called Marshal. I wanted to know how things were going for you. I guess I was looking for reassurance." She scowled at the idea.

"When he told me you had a killing on your hands " Discomfort lifted her shoulders.

"I didn't think. I just came here."

I flinched. Why was it suddenly so impossible to be furious at her?

Somehow she'd raised the stakes on me. Again. Now I had to be careful. No matter how I felt.

"All right," I said.

"All right." I didn't try to sound calm, but I measured every word.

"I can deal with that. I probably would've done the same."

She seemed to appreciate the concession, but I didn't dwell on it.

"It's still wrong," I told her flatly.

Her eyes narrowed. Tension in her forearms flexed the hooks of her claw. "

"Wrong'?"

I retreated again. Looking for the truth. Attacking her was a luxury I could no longer afford.

"I mean it's the wrong way to go about it," I said more carefully.

"You ditched me for a reason. Maybe it was a good reason." With an effort that twisted my guts, I admitted, "I'm so angry about it because I don't want to admit that you might be right." I hated honesty. Being flayed alive would've been more fun. Nevertheless I didn't stop.

"But the fact that I happen to be in the middle of a mess doesn't cancel what you did. You can't have it both ways. You're either in or you're out.

"We both are."

Recognition darkened her gaze. She looked away to hide her distress.

"Maybe I need help here," I went on.

"Maybe I don't. But you can't decide that for me." Abruptly a new rush of anger surged through me. Too furious to shout, I finished like the slice of a blade, "You have to wait until I fucking ask."

Which I was not going to do. I'd kiss Marshal's feet before I'd let her have everything her own way again.

Ginny bit her lower lip so hard that I feared she'd draw blood. Her hand made small broken gestures that didn't go anywhere.

Sighing, she murmured, "I understand."

Deborah had said that last night. I was getting good at rejecting women.

But Ginny wasn't done. In the same tone, she added, "When I want help, I'll ask for it."

Oh, sure. If she'd given me a chance, I might've said something bitter and hurtful and completely beside the point. She was Ginny by-God Fistoulari, and she loathed herself when she needed help. But she turned her back on me and walked away before I fell victim to my usual charm. Her stride as she crossed the lobby had the harsh precision of a machine press, forcing a new shape on metal too hot to resist. When The Luxury's automatic doors slid shut after her, I felt more alone than I'd ever been in my life.