They’re coming after you next.”

  “I know.”

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  Clovis and I thanked the two officers and drove back to Micki’s

  office. I found myself sitting in her office chair, full of nervous energy,

  with nothing to do until Judge Houston issued his orders. Maggie and

  Debbie were going through all of Micki’s current cases. Clovis seemed

  preoccupied, so I busied myself calling a couple of friends to let them

  know I’d be in little Rock for a while. I also called liz to tell her about

  my conversation with Doug, emphasizing his willingness to give up his

  research if the prosecution would leave her alone.

  It wasn’t yet the right time to press for the deal. Dub was bound to

  be pissed about this morning, and I didn’t want to deal with Bullock

  until Dub had calmed down. Besides, I still had no idea what Doug’s

  research pertained to or how marijuana was involved. Finally, I was

  at an extreme handicap without Micki. She knew all the pitfalls and

  tricks in negotiating a drug plea deal involving civil forfeiture. I only

  knew enough to be dangerous.

  liz said, “Jack, I’m not comfortable with any kind of deal until you

  get all the time you need with Doug. I know, I know, it’s great for me,

  but it concerns the both of us, so until you’re totally comfortable,

  don’t jump the gun. That said, I trust you completely. In the end, do

  what you think is best.”

  “Thanks for the confidence, liz. When the time comes I’ll only

  have a short window of opportunity, so your trust means a lot. You

  doing okay, otherwise?”

  “Actually, I’ve enjoyed spending time with my dad. We don’t usually

  get along so well.”

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  “Good. Take it easy. Something’s bound to break soon. When it

  does, I’ll need you here.”

  The last two days—and the night—were catching up. I needed

  some down time. I told Clovis I was going back to the hotel to take

  a nap. He had already pulled out his keys when Moira appeared and

  offered to drive me back. Clovis hesitated, but I waved him off, told

  him to relax and enjoy the afternoon. I was in good hands.

  on the way back Moira and I chatted, and I took every opportunity

  to find out more about her. I’m sure Beth would have said I should have

  been more subtle. Maggie would say Moira was becoming a distraction.

  I realized I hadn’t had a bite to eat except for noodles and brown

  gravy in over twenty-four hours and asked Moira if she would join me

  for a quick lunch. The hotel bar was full of men in suits who stared at

  me like I’d just spent the night in jail. even in decent clothes, I sup-

  pose I looked a little seedy. or maybe these guys watched Tv. What-

  ever—all I could think about was food and sleep. I decided against

  wine, opting for a Diet Coke. Moira and I shared an order of nachos

  covered in cheese, jalapenos, and chili. She easily deflected my ques-

  tions about her background, peppering me with questions about the

  case and my theories about the link between Doug Stewart and Micki’s

  kidnapping. I found myself enjoying her company.

  Her fingers casually grazed my hand and shoulder more than once,

  and I couldn’t help but wonder about asking her up to my room to

  share a bottle of wine. Fortunately I had the good sense to leave it to

  my imagination. This woman carried a Glock in her shoulder bag and

  worked for Clovis. Maybe after the case, when things settled down . . . .

  While we were waiting for the check, she offered to walk me to my

  room. When I declined she looked me in the eye and said, “Are you

  sure you want to be alone right now? I can be pretty good company.”

  I won’t deny it felt good to know her interest hadn’t been all my

  imagination, but I managed to reply firmly, “Thank you, but yes, I’m

  sure—I’ll be fine, I just need some rest.”

  once upstairs, I showered to get the lice shampoo and jail smell

  out of my hair, turned down the thermostat, crawled into the bed and

  burrowed into the comfort of its soft covers. My eyes closed, and I was

  quickly dead to the world.

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  It’s amazing that our sense of danger or preservation, or whatever

  you’d like to call it, works even when we’re sleeping. I was dreaming

  about Micki when I woke up with a start, aware of another presence.

  Moira had slipped under the covers and was climbing on top of me.

  She quickly undid her hair, which fell abundantly to her shoulders. She

  wore only a sweater. I’ll admit it: I was stunned, almost unable to react.

  She smiled and said in a low voice. “You don’t have much of a poker

  face, Jack. Don’t be in a hurry now. I’m in charge.”

  Bending forward her lips brushed mine, a soft testing, and then

  another. She stretched upright and began to slowly rock back and

  forth against my lower torso until I was fully aroused. She reached

  behind her head and lifted her sweater exposing two very full and

  round breasts. Placing her hands behind her, she squeezed my thighs

  and began to slowly lean back, pressing her backside hard against my

  groin as her hands slowly slid down my legs.

  She arched her back until her hair was brushing my ankles, her

  bottom swaying back and forth on top of my pelvis. Then slowly she

  came back up and bent forward from the waist. I felt her hands gliding

  their way up my torso until her mouth touched mine and her tongue

  began to probe. I arched my back to meet her, and she held my face

  to hers, lips open, tongue exploring. I felt her fingernails press deeply

  into the back of my neck as her other hand slid slowly down my chest.

  We met eagerly, and moaning softly, she began to rock her pelvis back

  and forth. I cried out in pleasure. Couldn’t help it.

  Her mouth slid to my ear and she whispered,

  “Sweet dreams, Jack.”

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  I distinctly heard a voice ask, “Was all that really necessary?” Moira

  responded, “A dying man’s wish.” I tried to clear my brain—had it all

  been a dream? Was I still dreaming? I hadn’t opened my eyes yet, but

  I sensed I was no longer in the same bed, and my wrists and ankles

  were tied to something. I felt a tight band around my chest. What kind

  of game was Moira playing? What had I gotten myself into? I still felt

  pretty groggy, but now the man’s voice was crystal clear. “You need to

  leave. It’s time to finish this.”

  Her voice now heavily accented, Moira said, “I know, but I want to

  say good-bye. He isn’t a bad man, you know? Besides what’s the rush?

  They won’t find him till we are long gone.”

  “Wake his ass up then, but get out of here. I need to finish, and we

  need to leave town.”

  I wasn’t at all sure I wanted to wake up. Suddenly, I felt a heavy

  hand go to my groin, grab my testicles, and squeeze. I screamed, or at

  least tried to. My mouth was taped shut.

  I heard the man say, “See, he’s awake. Say goodbye, and get the hell

  out.”

  I looked up to see Moira hovering over me, this time fully clothed.

  “It would have been fun to go another round, Jack, but Roger is

  running out of patience.”

  I tried to speak, but the tape kept me silent. I could only stare and

  strain my restraints.

  “Sorry about the duct tape, but we can’t have you screaming,

  now can we? Although, come to think of it, no one could hear

  you if you did.” Moira mused. “Jack, you’re just too damn smart

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  w e b b h u b b e l l

  for your own good. You found Micki before Roger could finish,

  and I bet you figured me out too, didn’t you? Too bad you

  didn’t tell Clovis what you suspected. Thought you could string

  me along—maybe seduce me like James Bond, you poor fool.

  Things don’t work that way in real life. I kill people for a living,

  and you’re a contract, nothing more, and nothing less.

  “No one will miss you, at least not for a while. everyone thinks

  you’re taking a long nap after your terrible ordeal in jail. Roger and

  his friends botched Micki, but he’s going to finish the job right this

  time, aren’t you, Roger? I’ve given him very precise instructions.”

  Roger growled, “Don’t tell him everything.”

  She turned on him with a sneer. “Don’t tell me what to do, you

  moron. You’re the one who blew it with the bitch. listen—I need

  twenty-four hours before he’s dead. Give him the juice slowly. Don’t

  give him the final dose until I call, got that? Play your silly games if you

  must. I don’t care how much he suffers, but don’t leave any clues, and

  for God’s sake keep him alive until I call. Fuck up again, Roger, and

  I’m coming for you.”

  Moira began to speak in some Slavic language. I had no hope of

  understanding. I watched her as if I was in another world, unable

  to process her words, but totally fascinated by her presence. Gone

  were the ponytail and frumpy blue pants suit. She wore tight designer

  jeans, Frye boots, and lots of bling.

  What are you doing, Jack? Admiring your killer?

  I forced myself to look at Roger. He was on the small side, skinny

  with a bad comb-over and a pencil thin mustache—reminded me of

  Fredo in The Godfather.

  Moira turned back to me. “Roger wants to play a few games, but

  it won’t be any worse than the night you got all these scars.” Moira

  ran her fingernail down a long scar along my shoulder. “In fact, the

  heroin will kick in soon, and you won’t have a care in the world. You

  should never have interfered, Jack. You’re out of your league.” Col-

  lecting her jacket and purse from a chair, she gave me a cool kiss on

  the forehead and left quickly, leaving only the scent of her perfume.

  I sure knew how to pick ‘em.

  Roger smiled and busied himself with an Iv drip on a stand next to

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  the bed. I tried to thrash around, but he taped my elbow to the side

  of the bed. I could do nothing but watch as he inserted a catheter

  roughly into my vein. I noticed he hadn’t bothered to swab my arm

  with alcohol, but I wasn’t worried about dying from a dirty needle.

  A hypodermic lay ready on the tray table he had pulled up. I kept

  pulling against my restraints. Breaking them was unlikely, but maybe

  an adrenaline rush would give me superhuman strength.

  When he turned his back I struggled as hard as I could, but the

  tape didn’t give an inch. I couldn’t hear what Roger was up to, but it

  didn’t sound good.

  “Moira said you wouldn’t feel a thing, but she’s wrong. I’m not

  going to set the drip until she calls. I want you to feel everything I

  do. I’m going to my car for a few instruments I forgot. Don’t go any-

  where.” He giggled.

  I tried not to panic, willing myself to come up with a plan. The

  space had been set up like a hospital room, but I could see metal raf-

  ters high above me—surely some sort of warehouse. Not much help.

  I felt sick to my stomach, but did everything I could to avoid throwing

  up into the duct tape. I might end up choking to death on my own

  vomit. Not a nice way to go.

  I heard footsteps outside the door and steeled myself, dreading

  whatever Roger was bringing back into the room.

  The door burst open and Clovis rushed in, followed closely by

  Debbie. Clovis jerked the catheter out of my arm, but couldn’t undo

  the knots of the restraints. Debbie said, “You call the police and watch

  the door. I’ll do this.”

  Clovis backed through the door and began punching in numbers

  and shouting into his cell. Debbie slowly untied me, talking smoothly.

  “Relax now. I’m going to take care of you.” She carefully untied my

  restraints and slowly pulled the tape off my mouth. I could barely hear

  her—my teeth felt thick.

  I watched her press a pillow over my arm. I could see it was bleeding,

  but didn’t feel much of anything. Stroking my head gently, she said,

  “lie back. You’re going to be okay. The ambulance is on the way.”

  Her tone reminded me of a dreamy-eyed nurse I’d met last year in an

  emergency room in little Rock.

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  w e b b h u b b e l l

  I might have dozed off. I wasn’t sure of much anything. But at some

  point Clovis returned and threw his coat over me. “Sorry about the

  arm,” he said looking at the bloody pillowcase.

  “Not a problem. I . . . I just need a few minutes; I’ll be okay, but. . .

  ." I sat up. Debbie and Clovis backed off a little while I tried to get my

  bearings.

  I tried to make some sort of sense out of what had just happened.

  “Where are we? I’m not sure what . . . I guess I’m still a little woozy.

  Clovis, get me my clothes. And how’d you find me?”

  “It’s a long story, but thank Debbie. She called Novak. And, um,

  Jack, you don’t seem to have any clothes here.” Now my memory was

  crystal clear—wasn’t much I could say.

  Debbie smiled, not the least bit flustered. I tried to change the

  subject.

  “oh, Jeez. Thank you, Debbie. I want to hear the whole story. It

  couldn’t have been an easy call to make.”

  She lowered her eyes, still holding my hands. Then she looked up

  with a start. “Moira’s been here.”

  Clovis protested. “Moira, no way—she’s interviewing students and

  professors.”

  “I’d know her perfume anywhere. I asked her about it the first day

  I met her.”

  My eyes told truth to Clovis, who shook his head in denial.

  “Sorry, Clovis, she’s right. Did you get the other guy?”

  “What other guy?” Clovis was instantly on alert.

  “Moira left me with some guy named Roger. He went out to his car

  just before you got here—said he forgot something. ” Clovis drew his

  gun and headed to the door.

  “No!” I put out my arm to stop him. “He’s either long gone or

  waiting to ambush you. Stay here until the police arrive.”

  Clovis hesitated, unwilling to face the truth. “Moira?” He already

  knew the answer.

  “Clovis, don’t feel bad, she fooled both of us. What’s done is done—

  now it’s time to end this.”

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  I tried to wave away the ambulance, but wasn’t given any choice.

  Debbie rode with me while Clovis dealt with the police. The docs gave

  me a thorough inspection, but because Roger hadn’t started the drip

  I really was okay. They fussed about shock and infection, gave me an

  antibiotic, and recommended I see a therapist. I took the antibiotics,

  declined therapy. Clovis appeared with some clothes and Maggie, who

  managed to look both relieved and disgusted. We sat in silence waiting

  for the discharge papers. To my surprise, eric suddenly appeared in

  the doorway. He’d heard the story and had come to check on me. His

  news wasn’t so good. Micki was back in ICU.

  As eric was leaving, Sam barged in without warning, and without a

  smile. “Jack, your nine lives are about to run out. I need you to give a

  statement to my detective. If Clovis has his facts straight, we have two

  killers on the loose. The hunt for Moira is on, but we’ve got nothing

  so far and we have no idea who her partner is and no idea why they

  were about to kill you. It’s time for you to spill the beans.”

  “I’ll talk to your detective, but I want Maggie and Clovis to hear

  everything, and I want Debbie to tell you how she found me. Sam, I

  need your help if we’re going to put a stop to all this.”

  exasperated, he drug his fingers through his hair, but relented.

  The detective came in, and I told them most of what had happened.

  I left out the intimacy at the hotel. My screw-up was none of their

  business. I told them Moira must have snuck into my room and

  knocked me out. I showed them the welt on the back of my neck and

  told them I’d woken to find myself tied up. I repeated what Moira