a living person. Or bumblebee, as the case may be.”
“I don’t see how that’s significant,” Rule said.
Cullen shrugged. “I don’t, either, but—”
“I do.” Lily’s hands were cold. Her stomach was knotted. “I think I do.” She looked at Rule. “You remember I couldn’t figure out why I was put in that particular jail. Why was it suddenly best to get me locked up instead of killing me? It’s almost always easier to kill someone than to frame them. I couldn’t figure it out.”
Rule didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. The tightness in his face said he was following her very well.
“That jail has a policy,” she went on. “Everyone—even those just in holding—are tested for HIV. They took blood from me.”
THIRTY-TWO
TWENTY minutes later, Cullen was gone, eager to get his hands on Fagin’s translation of the grimoire. Karonski was gone, too, after calling the jail to ask about Lily’s blood sample. Surprise! No one could find it. He’d headed out to lean on them, see if he could find out who might have swiped it.
Lily had asked Karonski a couple questions before he left. He didn’t remember what Drummond’s alibi was for the day of Ruben’s heart attack—they’d checked literally hundreds of alibis. He’d get that information to her, he said. Lily told him to hold off—she might have a faster way of getting it.
Lily made a couple phone calls then. So did Rule. First he ordered lunch, then he called Arjenie back in California. He told her to set up access for Lily to the database, then handed her his phone. Lily told Arjenie what she needed her to find out.
So after those twenty minutes passed, they were alone in the house—no Rhej, Isen, Cullen, Deborah, or Karonski. No one but the two of them.
Made it easier to fight.
“That makes no sense!” Lily took three quick paces away, turned, and glared at him. “I said I’d take a guard with me.”
“I go with you. That’s not negotiable.” Rule’s face was closed up as tight as a vault. “You seem to be forgetting that I am in charge.”
“I don’t believe you just said that.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to bank her temper. “At the moment, our enemies want me alive. What good would my dopplegänger do them if I was dead? Whatever my double is supposed to do, people would know it wasn’t me.”
“Killers have been known to dispose of bodies.”
It was hard to argue when he was right. She did her best. “Rule, we’ll get twice as much done if we split up.”
“If you’re worried about efficiency, consider the fact that if your temper leads you to take off without me, I’d have to follow you. Taking two cars would certainly be inefficient.” The last was delivered with icy sarcasm.
“Look. I get that you’ve been worried about me, but—”
“Do you?” In two quick paces he was in front of her, his eyes blazing. He seized her arms. “Do you really have any idea? Because worried is a thin and puny word that would snap like a twig beneath the weight of my feelings.”
Last month, Lily had discovered just how terrifying it could be to know, deep in her soul, that she could not keep those she loved safe. That death could strike at any moment, no matter how clever or strong or quick she might be. It had been a hard lesson . . . and she wasn’t a control freak of a Rho.
She reached up and put both hands on Rule’s face. “Anyone can die,” she said softly. “In fact, with a very few weird exceptions, everyone does die. On any given day, there’s a chance you won’t make it, or I won’t, or my mother, or Cullen . . . the thing is, there’s every chance we will. We have to put our weight behind the second deal, not the first.”
For a long moment he didn’t speak. Then he took one of her hands, folded the fingers gently into her palm, and held it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles one at a time, all five, including the one at the base of her thumb. “You are very wise.” His mouth crooked up. “And I am still going with you.”
THEY went to Sjorensen’s apartment together.
Karonski said that Anna Sjorensen had been put on administrative leave, just like Lily. He didn’t know how they’d learned it was Sjorensen who’d tipped Lily off about Ruben’s arrest—shoot, maybe she’d confessed—but she