Devil s Due Page 0,51

wasn't going to play their game anymore, especially if it turned deadly for his friends.

Any of it could be true.

Or none of it.

"So," she said after a quiet moment, "what do I do?"

He shrugged. "I leave that to you. But were I you, and did I care anything for your friend - which I do not, you might note - I would be sure to stay alert during the morning hours of tomorrow. Events would conspire, as they say."

"Tomorrow morning. It's that specific."

"I imagine it's more specific than that, my love, but that is what I heard. Or, more accurately, overheard."

"So you're telling me you came here to warn me out of the kindness of your heart. For old times' sake."

He laughed. Not a chuckle this time, a full-throated bray of amusement. "Oh!" he gasped, when he got some control again. "Oh, zolotaya, you never fail to amaze me. You know what zolotaya means, yes?"

"Gold."

"In Russia, wealth is endearment, and you, my zolotaya, are beyond measure. I've always wondered if you would marry me someday. Would you?"

"No."

"As I thought. I am bereft." He stood up, and she got to her feet as well. The important thing with Gregory, as with all beautiful wild animals, was to never take your eyes off him. "Will you let me tell you one last thing?"

"I don't see how I can stop you."

"I don't think they want you dead yet, although I think soon they will. No, I think they want you frightened, and alone, so that you will do what they say. I don't think they understand what a silly hope this is."

"They don't know me," she said.

For just a moment, there was something other than the wolf in those beautiful eyes. "That is entirely their loss," he said, and the comic-opera Russian was gone. "Take care. I've done as much as I can for you without inconveniencing my own plans."

That was as much truth as she could ever hope to expect. She inclined her head slightly. He bowed his a fraction less.

And then he left.

She sank down on the couch, not bothering to lock the door after him - there didn't seem much point - and thought about things one more time.

Sometime in the middle of it, unexpectedly and without drama, her body simply decided that it had had quite enough of the stress, and sent her into a deep and dreamless sleep. She didn't know how long it lasted - not long enough for morning to arrive, at any rate - and she woke to the insistent electronic tones of a ringing phone.

It was Manny.

The anthrax culture was positive, and Jazz was on her way over.

Lucia was dressed when Jazz arrived, and was putting her hair up in a ponytail to keep it out of her face. It was a practical habit she'd developed over the years, a sort of ritual for going into battle. And she knew it was a battle now, whether that was likely to be obvious or not. She had just put on her shoulder holster when the bell rang.

"No way," Jazz said flatly when Lucia opened the door. "You've got to be fucking kidding. You think you're actually going somewhere, other than to the hospital? Manny called, didn't he? You were supposed to pack a bag."

"Sit. I have things to tell you."

Jazz didn't, but Lucia wasn't in any mood to wait for compliance. She started with the red envelope on the counter - Simms's creepy note of gratitude - and saw a flash of genuine irritation come over Jazz's face. Of course. She's the one who pulled the trigger. Why would he thank me?

But when comment came, it wasn't about the details. "I got one, too," Jazz said. "Courier brought it. You wouldn't believe the full-out paranoid lockdown that went into effect when Manny saw the van drive up."

Lucia could only imagine, and shook her head in wonder.

Jazz was still frowning at her. "Look, that doesn't explain you being out of bed and ready to rumble, okay? If there's any work that needs to be done, I'm doing it. Not you. You're flat on your back for the duration, getting good IV antibiotics. Doctor's orders."

"Not yet. I've got things to tell you - "

"Sit. Down."

Lucia put up her hands and sat. And truthfully, she hadn't slept well, or woken up that way, either. She still felt hot and sore, but at least the tickle in the back of her throat had died to a memory, and