"Of the fact that you saved my life?" she asked him. "Definitely. It also reminds me that you helped me get back on my feet again. You lent me money, you helped me get this job. Yes, I'm very much reminded of that when I see you."

"I've tried," he said, his voice low. "But I just can't forget that I took advantage of you."

"I happen to disagree," Sophia told him, her voice shaking slightly despite her best effort. "You didn't take advantage. But whether you did or not, isn't it time you stopped punishing me for it?"

He didn't have a comeback for that one, so she left him there, heading down the hall to her office, half-hoping he would follow.

Fully knowing that he wouldn't.

Jenk sat in silence as Izzy drove them over to Tom Paoletti's house.

That hadn't gone the way he'd hoped it would.

In his fantasy version, he'd walk into the Troubleshooters Incorporated reception area to find that Tracy was finally getting the hang of manipulating the voice mail system. She'd smile at him, holding up one perfectly manicured finger, asking him to wait just a sec as she flawlessly connected the caller who'd requested operator assistance. Then she'd smile at him again, thanking him for helping her find this wonderful job.

He'd remind her that he'd promised to take her to the furniture store with his truck, to pick up the dinette set she'd gotten on sale. He'd also promised he'd help bring it up to her second-floor apartment, help her put it together.

She'd suggest they go that evening, right after work. At which point he'd tell her he was babysitting for little Charlie Paoletti, and her eyes would widen the way Lindsey's had.

Izzy glanced at him now. "Dude, I hate to break it to you, but your girlfriend wants to jump me."

What?

Izzy nodded. "It's true."

"Why do people say I hate to break it to you when they're obviously gleeful about the news they're going to share?" Jenk asked.

"I'm not gleeful," Izzy said.

"Yeah, dude, you are."

"I'm actually depressed, because I really think I could have scored with her tonight."

God. "Yeah, I don't think so."

Instead of his fantasy with its meaningful eye contact and warm smiles, Tracy had been on the phone with Lyle. Her scum-sucking ex-boyfriend. Jenk had walked into the reception area to find every other phone line ringing as Tracy took a personal call-forgetting to switch on the voice mail system.

Lindsey was right behind him, and the two of them got the phones back under control. Of course, by then Tracy was focusing all of her energy on trying to hide the fact that talking to Lyle had made her cry.

The news that Jenk was babysitting for Tom tonight got absolutely zero reaction.

Nothing at all. Not even a blink in his direction.

"Tracy's got this ex who just won't leave her alone," Jenk told Izzy now. "He's trying to get them back together, and...She's pretty hung up on him. I have to figure out a way to-"

"Jenkins. Read my lips, okay? You're seriously deluded about this girl. And even if she was interested in you, I'd be advising you to hit-and-run. Did you check out her shoes? And her handbag? She's a shopper. Shag her, for sure, but then move on-before you're stuck paying her credit card bills for the rest of your life."

Shag her and move on. Jenk had done shag her and move on. His almost dying in Afghanistan had woken him up to a new reality. He didn't want shag her and move on anymore. He wanted the kind of closeness that Tom and his wife Kelly shared. He wanted the magic that the senior chief shared with his wife.

He wanted someone waiting for him when he came home at night.

Even crazy-assed Chief Karmody had found his soulmate. If he could do it, Jenk could, too.

And why shouldn't it be Tracy Shapiro?

When his sister Ginny had called, telling Jenk that Tracy was finally moving out of New York, that she wanted to come to San Diego to make a fresh start, it had seemed like a sign from God.

He'd helped her get this job-coaching her via e-mail to say all the right things during her interview with Tommy.

Sure, she was flawed. No one was perfect. But as far as vices went, shopping was a pretty minor one. Her relentless attraction to Lyle, a man who had hurt her-repeatedly-in the past, was more troubling, though, but not insurmountable.

She was funny, and sweet, and beautiful, and kind, and yes, she was even smart.

Even though Lindsey didn't think so.

And Jenk had been crazy about her, for forever.

So why not Tracy Shapiro?

Sure, okay, she still didn't know he existed. She still saw him as Ginny's annoying little brother. That was a perception he was going to have to change.

Was it going to be easy? No.

Was the fact that it wasn't going to be easy going to stop him?

No.

He was a Navy SEAL. He'd done difficult things in the past.

He would get Tracy to notice him, to fall in love with him, and yes, even to marry him, if that's what he decided he wanted.

It might take a while, but there was one thing he'd learned about himself over the past few years-he was a patient man.

"That Lindsey's pretty hot," Izzy said, as they took the turn onto Tommy's street. "I think she liked me, too."

"Lindsey?" Jenk couldn't keep the disbelief from his voice.

"You don't think she's hot?" Izzy misunderstood. "Asian women, man...They're unbelievably beautiful. And smart."

Oh, God. "Lookit, do me a favor," Jenk said. "Just stay away from Lindsey, okay? She's-"

"Whoa," Izzy said. "Time out, Marky-Mark. You can't call dibs on everyone. One at a time, right? Fair's fair. So which is it, Tracy or Lindsey?"

Shit. "Tracy," Jenk said. "But seriously, Zanella, Lindsey's...different."

"Is she, you know, a friend of Ellen?" Izzy parked in front of the Paoletti's house. "That would be so cool. Do you think she's got a girlfriend, because I've always wanted to get with some lesbians." He laughed at the expression on Jenk's face. "Look at you. I'm kidding. That's the joke, right? Some asshole's all like, Lesbians are so hot, do you think they'll do me? Only he's too stupid to know that they're lesbians because they're not into men and...never mind."

"No, I get it," Jenk said. "But Jesus, Izzy, sometimes you frighten me."

"So what do you think? Is she a dyke?"

Jenk exhaled his exasperation as he got out of Izzy's truck. "I don't know-it wasn't on the questionnaire I gave her about her sexual preferences. And frankly, I don't care. I like her, all right? As a friend. I don't want you to mess with her."

"You can call dibs on her if you want, but then you've gotta toss Tracy back. Otherwise, you've got no right. Unless, you know, you discover Lindsey's your long-lost sister. Then you can invoke the sister rule. But looking at the two of you, I don't think that's gonna fly."

Jenk followed Izzy up the path to the front door. "I don't know what I'm worried about. Lindsey's gonna break your balls."

"Perfect," Izzy said. "I'm into pain. Weeble."

Jenk stared at him. Had he just said...

"Tracy told me she used to call you that-right after she implied that she wanted to do me."

It was probably all true. Tracy had dreadful taste in men. Izzy was almost as big of an asshole as Lyle, so why shouldn't she be attracted to him?

This was going to be more difficult than he'd imagined.

Izzy grinned. "I'm guessing you were rounder when you were a kid, Wobble-Man."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you," Izzy said cheerfully, as if it were some sort of blessing Jenk had bestowed on him, and that he was bestowing on Jenk in return.

From inside of the house, they could hear a baby crying. Ferociously. Izzy rang the doorbell. "Two Navy SEALs versus one angry seven-month-old," he mused. "The odds could go either way."

LOCATION: UNCERTAIN.

DATE: UNKNOWN.

Number Twenty was a fighter.

The lights were up in the basement, which was also a treat. Although Five knew from experience that he could turn them off at any moment. Just to increase the challenge, to ramp up the level of fear.

He fed on the fear, and tonight he was getting a feast.

Twenty was sobbing as Five rushed her. She was terrified-as well she should be.

But she'd had some kind of rudimentary self-defense training. She knew not to let Five get close enough to her head to land a blow, close enough to her throat to get a grip.

So Five kicked her in the back, and she slammed against the wall.

She made herself hate Twenty-for her relatively clean jeans, her untangled hair, the traces of makeup on her butt-ugly face-as she kicked her again.

Fear could make the prettiest girl on the planet look like a freak show.

She also hated Twenty for what her being here meant that Five would have to do.

But it was always easier with a fighter. Number Nineteen had done little more than curl up into a ball and cry.

He was on the stairs, watching, lapping up the fear, laughing as Five drove Twenty back into the corner. "Use it," he called. "Come on Twenty, use it now!"

Use what?

And then Twenty turned, a tumble of golden curls, a flash of something else as she lashed out at Five with her fist.

She blocked the blow easily with her arm, but there was a sharp burst of pain.

She retreated. She'd been cut-her arm was...bleeding?

Twenty still sobbed, light flashing again on the blade she held awkwardly in front of her, as if to defend herself.

That son of a bitch had given Twenty a knife.

CHAPTER.

THREE.

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA.

FRIDAY NIGHT, DECEMBER 2, 2005.