Megas car was between them and the cop. He would surely look inside as he went pasta"and see Osman Razeen, handcuffed and tied up in the backseat.

No, Officer, thatas just my wifeas crazy cousina"went on a bender and beat the crap out of Aunt Doreen. Heas nasty when he gets this way. We had to restrain him so we could take him back to the rehab center in Florida. Although heall probably just escape again.

aEverything okay here?a the cop called out in his Georgia drawl. It was much thicker and gooier than Starrettas Texas twang.

aEverythingas fine, Officer.a Nils stood up, and Meg was right beside him.

But the cop wasnat talking to them. Head stopped alongside the car where head leaned down to speak to . . .

Razeen. Who was sitting up in the backseat. Wide awake.

While Nils and Meg had been arguing, head managed to roll down the window. The car was childproofa"he couldnat unlock the backdoora"but the bastard had been about to escape out the window.

Shit.

Nils felt Meg touch his arm. aWhat are we going to do?a she breathed.

We. Now it was we. Thank God. Nils suddenly loved this cop. He loved his meandering gait, his tough-guy squint, his cheap mirrored sunglasses. This cop had turned them back into a we.

aGive me the handgun,a he breathed back.

She shook her head. aNo.a She had that look in her eyes again. That on-the-verge look that made him think it wouldnat take much for her to find the motivation to unload her weapon into Razeenas head.

aMeg, stay cool,a Nils said just loudly enough for her to hear.

But she didnat move, didnat blink, didnat even seem to know he was there anymore. Just like that, we didnat mean Meg and John. We meant Meg and her little handgun.

aYou all right in there, sir?a the cop asked Razeen.

Nils felt Meg tense as she reached into her pocket for her weapon.

Shit. This was going to be really bad.

aI love you,a he whispered, throwing the last of his cards faceup onto the table. aMeg, please donat do this.a It was only late afternoon, but the neon in the window was bright and beckoning. Sam took Alyssaas arm and pulled her into the bar.

aYou need a drink,a he told her.

aA drink is the last thing I need.a The fact that she didnat physically resist, that she didnat immediately yank her arm free from his grip convinced him that she did need something stiff that would burn all the way down, despite her listless protest.

It was a working class establishment. Dim with no frills. But it was clean and it had padded stools at the bar.

Sam pulled one out for her. It wasnat meant to be chivalrous. He would have done the same for Nils or WildCard if they were walking around like some kind of zombie, exhausted and embarrassed for giving too much away in public.

But she didnat know that. He sat before she did, trying to cancel out the implied respect of pulling out the stool.

aA bottle of my favorite Uncle and couple of shot glasses,a he told the bartender, setting a pile of money on the bar.

Alyssa sat down. aYou donat fool around, do you?a aHell, no.a Sam poured them both a shot of the Jack Danielas. He didnat wait for her. He just tossed back the shot, letting it roar down his throat.

Glory be to God.

Alyssa picked up the glass and sipped it before emptying her glass. She probably got her toes wet before jumping into a lake, too. She didnat make a face as Jack elbowed his way down her throat and into her stomach. She didnat flinch, didnat react, didnat so much as blink. Which meant that she had a reaction. She was working too hard to hide it.

aGood, huh?a He refilled their glasses. aI know I feel better already.a She didnat say a word, she just poured back the second shot, drinking right in sync with him.

He reached for the bottle, but this time she stopped him from refilling her glass.

aMind if I get a real glass with ice?a she asked. aIad like to return to the illusion that Iam civilized.a aBartender, two glasses with ice.a aThanks, Starrett,a she said, as Sam poured them both another drink.

He glanced at her only briefly, aware that her gratitude had nothing to do with the whiskey he was pouring into her glass. aItas no big deal.a aItas actually a very big deal,a she told him. aAnd . . . I owe you an explanation.a He pushed her glass toward her, took a sip of his own drink, staring into the amber liquid so that he wouldnat look at her.

She had tears in her eyes again. It was hard worka"this pretending not to notice.

aYou owe me nothing,a he said.

aMy mother died when I was thirteen,a Alyssa told him, her voice low. aI was the oldest, and I fought hard to keep my sisters and me together. Iad promised my mother Iad take care of them, and I made damn sure that I did.a Sisters. Plural. Hell. Sam knew what was coming. He swallowed a shotas worth of whiskey from his glass and braced himself for it.

aBut . . .a Here it came.

aTwo years ago, my littlest sister, Lanora, died while giving birth.a Lanora. It all made sense now. God damn it . . .

aIt seems almost absurd, doesnat it?a she asked in that same low, controlled voice, her face expressionless. aI mean, here it is, the twenty-first century. With all this technologya"a She broke off, shaking her head. aThere were complications. She had an aneurism during premature labor, and neither she nor the baby survived.a aIam sorry,a Sam said. Crap, it sounded so inadequate.

But she met his eyes, and whatever she saw there made her nod. aThanks.a She gave him a smile.

It was just a little smile, and it faded almost instantly, but oh, sweet Jesus, Alyssa Locke had actually smiled at him.

aBurying Lanora was the hardest thing Iave ever done,a she said even more quietly than before. aI felt as if I buried my heart with her.a Sam looked at Alyssa Locke, sitting there, staring down into her glass, and he wanted to cry. For years, head thought of her as heartless and cold. Head had no idea what shead been living through.

aMy cousin Jerry died of AIDS five years ago. He was my best friend back in grade school,a Sam told her, gazing down at the ice cubes in his own glass. aMy sister Elaine and I were the only cousins who went to the funeral. Lainey came to the base and forced me to go back to Texas with her. She wouldnat let me be a coward and hide from ita"from the AIDS and what it meanta"like all our other cousins. Iave always been thankful to her for that. I donat know what Iad do if she died. I know how I felt when Jerry was gone, and we hadnat been close for years.a He looked up at her and put it all out on the line. aI canat even imagine the depth of your loss, Alyssa.a She held his gaze a long time before looking away. aI was just starting to come back to life last year, when Tyra got pregnant . . .a Alyssa took a sip of her drink.

Dear God. aSo youave been in hell for the past nine months.a She met his eyes again and nodded. aYeah. Itas stupid, I know. All the doctors told me that what happened to Lanora was some kind of freak thing. It wasnat genetic. Tyra wasnat in danger. Intellectually, I knew this. Emotionally . . .a She shook her head. aEmotionally, Iave been a wreck.a Her tears back in the hospital had been from relief. After nine months of fear and anxiety, the relief had been too much to handle.

Sam knew from his own experience that positive emotions were harder to control than the negative ones. Grief, anger, pain, and frustration. You got used to stuffing those feelings back down inside. But relief, when it hit, had a knockout punch. It could smack you flat on your ass, make grown men cry like babies.

Like Alyssa Locke had cried.

Sam toasted her with his glass. aTonight, the waiting is over. Tyra is fine. Her baby is perfect, with a perfect name, too, I think. Tonight, sa"a He stopped himself from calling her sweet thing, but just barely.

She looked at him sharply, right in the eye, and he knew that she knew exactly what head been about to say. He cleared his throat. aTonight, Ms. Locke, you can relax.a Alyssa Locke laughed. She was looking straight at him, and she actually laughed and then gave him a smile that nearly rivaled the wattage of the smiles head seen her shoot her strange little partner.

aWell, praise the Lord,a she said, lifting her glass in a salute. aItas a bonafide two-miracle night.a * * *

aMighty hot today, to be sitting inside a vehicle like that, with the window only half down,a the small-town Georgia policeman said to the dangerous Kazbekistani terrorist tied up in the backseat of Megas car.

aI am used to the heat,a Razeen said in his heavily accented English. Head gotten awfully lucid awfully fast. He mustave been playing at being out of it when theyad first gotten out of the car, Meg realized. aEverything is fine. My young friends were having a loveras quarrel. We all thought it best not to continue it while on the highway. Weall be back on the road in no time, of this I am sure.a Meg looked at John. What the hell was going on? Why didnat the cop see Razeenas handcuffs? And why wasnat Razeen screaming his head off that he was being kidnapped?

She met Johnas eyes. I love you. If head been looking for a diversion, that had worked. Shead been ready to pull out her gun, but his wordsa"as untruthful as they werea"had made her hesitate just a moment. Just long enough for Razeen to start talking.

Why wasnat he giving them up?

aHe figures heall have a better chance getting away from us,a John said, low enough so the cop couldnat overhear him. aIf he sounds an alarm, heall be taken into custody. And then heas really screwed.a aWhere you folks from?a the cop asked Razeen in his thick drawl. aWhatas that accent you got there? French?a aFrench, yes. Oui,a Razeen lied. aI am from France. My friends, of course, are American.a aHeading down to Florida?a Apparently, to this cop, a foreigner was a foreigner was a foreigner. aThis time of year, we get a lot of tourist traffic just passing on through.a aTourists, that is right,a Razeen replied. aMy friends are taking me to see your fabulous Disney World. I have heard it is not to be missed.a The cop seemed satisfied that they wouldnat be staying in his jurisdiction for long. aYou be sure to enjoy Mickey Mouse, you hear?a aI will, of that I am most certain.a The cop straightened up and looked at Meg carefully. She knew her eyes were red and her hair looked like hell. He looked from her to John Nilsson and back. He may not have known a Frenchman when he saw one, but he knew the signs of domestic trouble. aEverything all right, maaam?a Heart in her throat, she nodded. aYes, thank you.a He gestured with his head back behind them, toward the fence. aThat old factory back thereas private property. You best get going as soon as possible. The owner donat like folks hanging about out here.a aI think weare ready to hit the road.a John headed around, past the cop, to the driveras side of the car. aHoney, you got the keys?a He knew damn well that she had the keys. As Meg watched, unable to stop him, he climbed in behind the wheel.

With the cop standing there, there was nothing she could do but get into the car and hand John those keys.

His eyes were apologetica"no doubt because her own were shooting fire. aIam going to do whatever I have to, to stick close to you,a he told her quietly. In Welsh.

I love you. No doubt head been doing awhat head had toa when head said that to her. It was no more real than her kissing him to get the car keys had been. She knew that. Shead known it the moment the words had left his lips.

It was stupid the way her heart had leapt so crazily when head said it.

As Meg clenched her teeth, John started the car. He did a three-point turn under the copas watchful eye and headed back toward the interstate.

I love you.

Right. She wanted to cry.

This was just another game they were playinga"a life and death game this time. And Meg had just lost this round.

In every way imaginable.

Sixteen.

LOCKE WAS WELL on her way to being skunked.

She couldnat remember the last time shead had this much to drink.

She couldnat remember the last time shead had a drink, singular.

She couldnat remember why shead ever had such an aversion to Ens. Sam Starrett. Ens. Roger Starrett. That was the manas real name. Roger not Sam.

Roger-not-Sam was one unbelievably gorgeous man.

Provided, of course, that a woman went for tall, big-muscled, macho cowboy rednecks with long legs, perfect, perfect asses, sky blue eyes, and solid senses of humor.

Funny how shead never particularly noticed his sense of humor before. Right now, she couldnat stop laughing at damn near everything he said.

aRoger.a Locke laughed, and he laughed with her. He was nearly as skunked as she was.

aYou know, it really used to piss me off when you called me that,a he said in his good old boy drawl that used to piss her off, but now flowed past her like warm honey, abut right now I donat mind it at all. Whatadya know?a aIf your nameas Roger,a she asked, propping her chin up in her hand on the bar, awhy does everyone call you Sam? Or sometimes Bob. Iave heard Stan Wolchonok call you Bob. Sam, Bob, anything but Roger.a He laughed, and she made herself frown at him. She was serious. She really wanted to know.

aBob is from some book,a he told her. aI donat remembera"youall have to ask the senior chief. Heas always reading something or another, and I think there was some book he read with some guy named Bob Starrett.a He poured her another drink. aSam comes from Houston. You know, Sam Houston, famous Texan? The guys started calling me Houston, and the next thing I knew, I was Sam.a Locke tried to get it straight. aThey called you Houston because you came from Houston?a aNo, because my name was Roger, and I was from Texas, and you know, Roger, Houston? You know, like NASA?a aGot it.a Roger, Houston was what the astronauts said over the radio when they spoke to the NASA base in Houston from outer space. The fact that his first name was Roger had given him the nickname Houston. And once everyone started calling him Houston, the nickname Sam came out of that.

It made sense in a too-skunked sort of way.

Locke sighed and took a sip of her whiskey. It no longer had much of a taste. aNobody ever gave me a nickname.a aNot true.a She looked at him, sitting there smiling at her, like some kind of cowgirlas fantasy. aSweet thing isnat a nickname, Rog. Itas an insult. Itas objectifying. You know, all those generic so-called terms of endearment do nothing more than take away a womanas individuality. You call me sweet thing and Iam one of two thousand nameless, faceless women youave encountered in your life. You call me Locke, I know without a doubt that you know who I am.a aFair enough. Although two thousand might be a little high.a aWhat if I called you Cute Ass?a she said. aHow would that make you feel?a Sam threw his head back and laughed. aPretty damn good, actually.a aNo, it would not.a aHell, yes, it would. It would mean that maybe you spent some time checking me out. Because I know for a fact that I do have a particularly cute ass.a He topped off her drink again.

aTrust me, it might be amusing for a while, but eventually it would make you feel as if you had no real value as a human being, anda"a Locke stopped. Looked at her full glass. Looked at the bottle of whiskey that was nearly empty. Looked at his glass. Tried to remember when the last time was head picked it up and taken a drink. Couldnat.

As an experiment, she picked up her glass, took a healthy swallow, and set it back down on the bar.

aHow about if I call you Alyssa and you call me Sam?a he said. aNo sweet thing, no cute ass, no Roger. That sound fair?a aBut your name is Roger.a aI could argue that you are one very sweet thing,a Starrett replied. He laughed at the look on her face. aBut I wouldnat dare.a He picked up the bottle of whiskey and refilled her glass to the brim, and she remembered why shead always had such an aversion to him.

aYou are!a she exclaimed. aYouare trying to get me drunk, arenat you? You son of aa"a aWhoa.a He put the bottle down. aI am not. I mean, yes, I am helping you forget your troubles, and frankly,a he said with a laugh, aI think Iave already done a damn fine job of it, but I promise, my motives here are completely pure. No ulterior motives. Really. Iam not doing anything I didnat do when WildCard had his meltdown a few months ago. Iam just . . . Iam trying to make sure you relax tonight.a He was protesting just a little too much. Locke narrowed her eyes at him. aI think youare trying to get me drunk because youave got a meeting planned later with John Nilsson, and you want to make sure I canat follow you.a He snorted. aThatas ridiculous.a But that was exactly what he would do and say if she were right and he was trying to throw her off course.

aNo, itas not. And, guess what? I can still follow you.a She stood up, just to prove her point. The world wobbled, but she wouldnat let herself teeter. She lifted her chin defiantly at Starrett. See?

He laughed again. aYeah, right. Siddown, Locke, before you fall on your face.a aI can. Go ahead.a She motioned toward the door. aLeave. Iall follow you.a He was sitting on the bar stool, one elbow on the bar, the other on the back of his seat, just looking at her, something dangerous in his eyes.

aWell, now,a he finally said. aAs lovely as that sounds, you donat need to follow me. My big plans for tonight include going back to the hotel and scoring some dinner, maybe watching a movie on pay-per-view while I try to rehydrate just a touch, then sleeping this off for about twelve hours straight.a Locke was searching her jeans pockets for her car keys. She had a pair of handcuffs in her back pocketa"useful if she ran into public enemy number one, maybe on her way to the ladiesa rooma"but no keys. aI can follow you, and I will.a aCome on, I thought we were friends now. And Iam telling you, friend to friend, that Iam not going anywhere tonighta"a aWeare not friends, Starrett, weare nemeses who just had a few too many drinks together. Friendship is built on trust. And I trust you about as far as I can throw up.a She looked up from her search for her keys. That hadnat come out right. aThrow you.a He was laughing again. aI like the first one better.a She refused to be distracted by his sparkly eyes, white teeth, and that dimple that appeared alongside his mouth. He had a nice mouth, a great smile anda" No, no!

She focused on his forehead. aIam being very, very serious here. I donat trust you, Starrett. Iam not going to trust you anda"a aOkay, fine,a he said, giving up. aYou donat have to trust me. You can come back to the hotel with me and watch me like a hawk all night long. Be my guest.a Locke finally found the key to her car stuck inside several folded five-dollar bills in the front pocket of her jeans. Shead forgottena"she wasnat carrying her usual twenty pound key ring. Shead taken her car key from the ring and tossed the rest of them into her fanny pack, in the trunk of her car. She just had this one little key with her right now.

Starrett swiftly scooped it from her hands.

aHey!a She glared at him.

aNemeses donat let nemeses drive drunk.a She had to laugh at that one. aIam not drunk.a She corrected herself. aOkay, Iam a little drunk. I shouldnat drive, I wonat drive, but neither should you.a aThis is exactly why God invented taxicabs.a He stood up and pocketed her key. aLook, I really was just planning to get room service and kick back tonighta"I mean, thatas what I planned before getting sidetracked by Uncle Jack. Years of heavy drinkingas taught me to go home after getting a buzz on instead of walking the streets and looking to pick a fight. So Iam not going to fight with you, Ms. Nemesis. Iam going homea"or at least to the nearest semblance of home that Iave got right now, which happens to be an enormous two room suite in the Marriott. If you want to baby-sit me, Iam fine with that. You can come on up. You can even sleep on the couch if you want. That way youall know where Iave been all night, and I wonat have to worry about you, shit-faced and alonea"a aI am not shit-faced, thank you very mucha"a aAnd pretending that youare not shit-faced when you damn well are, lurking in the hall outside my hotel room, attracting God only knows what kind of attention from whatever lowlifes wander those unprotected halls.a aYou mean Karmody and OaLeary?a she asked.

He grinned. aI love it that you just made a joke about two of my best friends. If someone had told me four hours ago that Iad be in a bar laughing at a joke Alyssa Locke made after helping me polish off nearly an entire bottle of Jack Danielas, Iadave laughed in their face.a aI wasnat joking.a aLetas find us a cab.a He headed for the door, looking back to ask, aYou following me?a As Locke went out into the still warm night, it occurred to her that going back to Starrettas hotel room with him was probably a really bad idea.

But the idea of dinner sounded good, and the thought of lurking in the hall outside of Starrettas room all night when she was already exhausted and at least partially inebriateda"yes, it was truea"sounded even worse.

Besides, she certainly had a better shot at keeping an eye on Starrett if she were right there in his room, didnat she?

It wasnat as if she were going to do something really stupid, like sleep with the man.

No, she was just a little drunk, she wasnat stupid.

Locke followed Sam Starrettas perfect ass right into a cab.

aMegas got her weapon pointed right at you,a John said to Razeen as they headed toward the highway. aSheall shoot you right through the back of the seat if you so much as move a muscle.a He gave her a look, and Meg quickly took out her gun, angling slightly in her seat so that she could see Razeen.

Head pulled the blanket over himselfa"thatas why the cop hadnat seen that he was cuffed and tied.

aHow much longer until we get to Disney World, Mom?a Razeen looked her dead in the eye.

Meg tried not to react. That was the second time head mentioned Disney World. Did he somehow know that her drop off point was in Orlando?

Maybe the Kazbekistani Extremists had some kind of home base there and Razeen knew about it. But if Razeen knew it, wasnat it likely that the FBI knew, too? God, if she was going to come all this way only to walk straight into the FBIas waiting arms . . .

She couldnat think about that right now. aHow long have you been awake?a she asked Razeen.