We'll be starting more events in a minute."

I didn't try to keep him.

"Thanks for your time."

He pretended to make a polite departure, but his heart obviously wasn't in it. In seconds he left me alone with the leads and cables that connected the LAMA to its fans and adherents.

I'd missed Fumio Demura's demonstration completely.

Thirteen.

Shortly before midnight, we put the chops away. When the night-shift Security chief had reclaimed the cell phone and confirmed arrangements to pay me, I left The Luxury and slogged across the asphalt to my waiting car.

I half-expected to find the Subaru melted on its wheels. If it felt as drained as I did But apparently it was made of sterner stuff. The engine caught without much coaxing. The headlights fixed the parking lot with a walleyed glare. Even the AC almost worked.

For a minute or two, I leaned my forehead on the steering wheel, just trying to remember who I was. Then I retrieved the .45 and tucked it into my belt, shoulder holster and all. Anchored by its ambiguous familiarity, I drove back to the apartment.

Like a coward, I hoped Ginny wouldn't be there. I didn't feel real enough to face her. In the past twenty-four hours, I'd lost track of myself. Deborah Messenger, Alex Lacone. Parker Neill and Anson Sternway. Bernie. As far as I could tell, I'd become a figment of someone else's imagination.

While I drove, however, I decided that accepting Lacone's offer made my kind of sense. I wasn't the right man for the job I lacked the mindset and experience of a good "security consultant." But it would keep me in contact with the chops. And that in turn might lead me to Bernie's killer.

He hadn't been murdered to protect a gear-bag full of pilfered loot.

That I was sure of. The real stakes were a whole lot higher.

Deborah, on the other hand Wouldn't Ginny consider that a betrayal? I sure as hell felt betrayed every time she turned to another man. I still wanted to eviscerate Marshal Viviter, even though he treated me like we were friends.

I'd told Deborah that things were finally clear between Ginny and me, but obviously they weren't clear enough to relieve my umbilical fear of Ginny's reactions. When I saw through the window that someone had left a light on in the apartment living room, my heart nearly collapsed.

I parked the Subaru anyway, but for a while I couldn't get out of the car. Damn it, I'd made things as clear as I could. Hadn't I? We weren't partners anymore. In any way. I'd practically etched it on the floor of the hotel lobby.

Things were clear enough, but I wasn't.

I didn't understand Deborah Messenger. I didn't trust her, or how I felt about her, or what we did together.

I might've sat there for hours, but eventually self-disgust made me move. Taking the reins of my life between my teeth, I locked the Subaru for the night and let myself into the apartment.

Ginny sat in an armchair near the phone, pretending to read a magazine.

Fully dressed, like she was about to go out or had just come in. Purse beside her on the floor. Eyes so sharp you'd think she'd used a whetstone on them. I knew she was only pretending to read because she had the pages of the magazine clamped in her claw hard enough to tear them.

"Brew." She sounded unnaturally casual, but her gaze went straight through me.

"It's good to see you."

Usually when I felt this bad around her I said something nasty.

Fighting the impulse, I turned away to relock the door. Next I shrugged off my jacket, pulled the .45 in its holster out of my belt, and slumped almost prostrate on the couch.

That was as close as I could come to letting down my defenses.

She didn't say anything else until I finally faced her. Then, with the same eerie lack of intensity, she asked, "Are you all right?"

"Ginny " I covered my face with my hands, rubbed at the stubble on my cheeks. For several heartbeats I held my breath. As I let it out, I dragged down my hands.

"You're scaring me. You sound too calm. What's going on here?"

She smiled thinly, as if she'd recognized something about herself that she didn't like.

"It seems to me," she answered from a distance, "we've already spent enough time yelling at each other. I don't want to do that anymore."

I tried again.

"Ginny " But she went on without me.

"We aren't partners. And you're right," she conceded, "I decided that without consulting you. I told myself I didn't care how you felt about it. But I was wrong. On both counts. We have a lot of history. That doesn't change just because we've forgotten how to get along." Her gaze searched me like a scalpel.

"You're still important to me. And I" she spread her good hand "owe you something better than an apology."

She was going to break my heart. As recently as yesterday, I would've snarled, As important as Marshal? But not tonight.

Tonight I faced her and waited.

"Brew " Abruptly she looked down. Her hair swung forward to veil her expression.

"I can't be your partner. Not now. I can't stand what that does to us. But I'm not going to move out. And I don't want you to. I'd rather" she shrugged helplessly "muddle through this together somehow."

I didn't think I could bear it. I wanted to sneer or yell, hit her with the most hurtful thing I could think of. Nevertheless the sheer difficulty of what she offered restrained me.

I was at least equally responsible for ruining our relationship. I owed it to her to risk as much as she did. Hell, I owed it to myself.

Instead of lashing out, I said bleakly, "Don't go that far until I've been honest with you. You have a right to know where you stand with me."

Even if the truth drove her away. I had to take the chance The time I'd caught her in bed with another man, I'd hit her. Actually hit her.

And that had cost me something I couldn't retrieve. I'd been letting people put their hands on me ever since. If I had to hurt her now, I wanted to do it openly, instead of leaving her at the mercy of an accidental discovery.

Sam Drayton had told me, You're stronger than you realize.

"I met a woman at the tournament," I told her.

"She seems to like me." The words made me want to weep.

"We spent the night together last night."

The magazine fell from Ginny's grip. She'd torn through all the pages.

Her eyes avoided me behind her hair.

For the second time, I held my breath. I could feel myself start to die, as if I'd amputated the thing that made my heart beat.

Cruelly far away, she murmured, "I'm glad."

That shocked me. "