that have to do with anything?"
"Is that why you're mother-henning me?"
"No, dammit, I'm mother-henning you because you need it! Because you - you did the same thing for me. Remember?"
She did. She remembered Jazz, white around the lips, barely able to move after surgery to remove a bullet, determined to try to go about the business of her life.
She stared at Jazz for long seconds, and then said, "My life is my own, Jazz. As is yours. But please, let me do this one thing before I give up control. All right?"
Jazz swallowed, looked away and nodded. "We keep it to a minimum, then. Far as I'm concerned, we don't do anything that puts either one of us in danger. We can hang out here and watch TV until noon - "
The telephone rang. Jazz's eyes went dark and shadowed, and she grabbed it before Lucia could reach for it. "Yeah," she snapped. Her body language shifted, from resistant to cautiously open. "For me? You're sure? Okay. I'll be right down."
She hung up and looked at Lucia, who frowned. "Down for what?"
"Delivery. FedEx, for me."
"Let's consider the last FedEx I opened, shall we? Carefully."
"It's like the lotto. Can't win if you don't play." Jazz grabbed her jacket and swung it on to hide her shoulder holster. "You stay here. I'll be right back. No fair having ninja fights while I'm gone or anything."
Jazz was gone before she could protest. Lucia, resigned, went to the intercom and buzzed the security desk. "Mr. Tarrant? My friend is on the way down. I want extra attention while she's coming and going, all right? There could be trouble."
"Yes, ma'am," he said. "We'll keep a close eye."
That was all she could do to protect Jazz at the moment. She pulled out a small carry bag and stuffed in sweatpants, underwear, tank tops, comfortable soft things that wouldn't bother her if - as she anticipated - the doctors did indeed tie her down for the duration. The bathroom necessities went into the side pockets, and after a second she put in the collapsible combat baton that Jazz had given her as a partnership gift, and professional-strength pepper spray. She'd have to surrender the offensive weaponry, but...
She heard the front door open and close, and made her way back that direction. Jazz was standing there, frowning.
"You're not gonna like it." Jazz held up the FedEx envelope and removed a red envelope with the air of an actress about to announce an award.
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Yeah, I wish I was. But I checked it out with your little light thingie." Jazz handed it over. "It's to both of us."
It read, IMPERATIVE YOU GO IMMEDIATELY TO THE RAPHAEL WHEN YOU RECEIVE THIS MESSAGE. TAKE MS. GARZA.
"So much for our plan to stay put," Jazz said. "Didn't you stash Susannah Davis there?"
"Yes. But there's no need for us to go. Omar's with her."
They exchanged silent stares, and Jazz nodded. "Call him."
She dialed Omar's cell number. It rang to voice mail. She hung up and dialed the hotel's main desk and was put through to the room.
No answer.
She didn't have to say anything. Jazz's face was grim with understanding.
"You think - " Lucia began.
"I' in trying not to." Jazz looked down at the paper Lucia was still holding. "I can get Ben to go with me."
"No. If anybody goes with you, it's me. I told you, Ivanovich said there was an explicit threat." Lucia got up, retrieved the UV light and ran it over the message. It was signed, again, by Max Simms. "Simms sent this, not Laskins. You tell me, does he want you alive or dead?"
"Who the hell knows what that creepy guy wants? Look, you're not going. And if you're not going and I'm not going, what are we going to do? Hide here like a couple of rabbits?" Jazz looked fierce, in fighting mode. Razor-edged and glittering with menace. "I don't hide."
There was a strange joy in it. And it was catching, driving back the sickness and leaving purpose in its place. "You're right." Lucia checked her purse for its usual load of lethal supplies. "Both of us go. You can put me in intensive care at noon."
Jazz looked wary. "You're not going to let me stop you, are you?"
"Laughable. Would you let me stop you?"
Jazz's jaw worked, chewing words, and then she spat them out, rapid-fire. "Fine. You so much as flutter an eyelid, I'm calling an ambulance, and you get carted out like