“Get her off me!”

The guy continued to laugh as he took the gun from behind his back. “That’s enough.”

Jenn continued to thrash against Ian’s arms, her face furious red, the shining edge of the scissors coming closer.

There was a loud click as the man cocked the gun. Jenn froze, then slowly looked up. She narrowed her eyes, then slowly eased back to her side of the couch.

“Drop those bad boys.”

Jenn tossed the scissors to skitter across the table. She turned back to him, glared, then reared her head back and spit a gob of wet phlegm on what used to be his favorite suit.

That set the man off again. “I hadn’t figured you for a fighter. I love a girl with spunk.”

“Fuck you,” she said, her voice gone sullen.

“Even if she isn’t too creative.” The man turned to Ian. “You, though, I’ve had pegged since I spoke to your bookie. A weasel.”

Ian held his hands up in surrender. “I just want to live.”

“And you’ll sell out your friends to do it. Hell, you’ve screwed them from the beginning, haven’t you?”

He felt the flush in his face, the sickness in his belly. “More than two hundred thousand dollars, cash. All but the money I gave Katz. That’s not bad for letting me go.”

“Where is it?”

“Here.”

“Where?”

“Do we have a deal or not?”

The man shrugged. “Sure.”

“You promise?”

“You’ve got my word.” He gestured with the pistol. “Let’s go.”

It was like he could feel the blood racing through all the miles of veins in his body. Dread and adrenaline and hope. That same rush that he got gambling, before the last card fell. Success or defeat just a turn away. Only this time, he was playing for stakes unlike any he had ever played before, and on a thinner hand. Sweat soaked the armpits of his designer shirt.

Hey, kid, don’t quit on me now. This is the game. Play it.

Slowly, he stood. His body hurt in a hundred places, and breathing took conscious effort.

“Remember,” he said. “More than two hundred thousand dollars. All of it right here.”

“So?”

“So please be careful where you’re pointing that thing.”

The man smiled. “Oh, I’ll be careful. But you should be too. If you’re wasting my time, I can promise you, the next hours of your life are going to be bad enough to erase every good thing you ever had.”

Ian shivered. No control over it, a feeling like an ice cube sliding down his spine. You have to do this. It’s the only chance.

He looked at Jenn, wanted to wink, to give her some sign, but didn’t dare. He could only hope that she had been listening, that she had heard him promise all of the money. The biggest bluff of his life, and he wasn’t sure if his partner was paying attention-or if she trusted him enough to follow his lead.

It didn’t matter. He’d made his play. No backing out now.

“You too, sister. On your feet.”

Shit. In his best-case scenario, he’d figured that the man might leave her here, figuring that he would be enough leverage to keep Jenn from trying anything. More likely, she’d be tied up, but that would still be better odds. It was a flimsy plan, but it wasn’t like he’d had a lot of time. He’d been winging it, hoping that if he could distract the guy, Jenn would have her chance. A better chance than a pair of three-inch scissors would have offered.

Now, though. What had he set them up for?

“Let’s go.”

Ian nodded, started across the room. He could feel every inch of his skin, every bruise and cut and blow and burn. A turn of the card. It all came down to a turn of the card. He moved as slowly as he dared, limping a little bit. His mind in overdrive, examining possibilities, looking for every option, coming up with nothing. The man kept a careful distance. No chance Ian could jump him.

Shit, shit, shit. What had he done? When the man realized he was bluffing, he would-

He had just started down the hallway when an idea hit.

More than a long shot. A Hail Mary.

And just like the game, it all came down to trust. Whether Jenn would trust him enough to see what he was doing. Whether he could trust her to recognize what was important.

Whether they had gone too far to ever make it back.

ALEX’S BRAIN WAS STATIC. Raw and unfocused and going nowhere.

Desperate to move, he sat still. He heard Mitch talking to Victor as the man poured himself a fifty-dollar drink. Trying to reason with him, or maybe just stalling for time, but not getting anywhere. Johnny had moved to the center of the bar, the gun held at arm’s length. Aimed with the loose ease of someone who had used a pistol before, who had looked down the barrel at another human being and pulled the trigger.

Alex’s head throbbed in time with his pulse, the pain back in full force, and yet the least of the pain he was dealing with. Thinking that all their discussion, all their debate, it came down to this. Four plastic bottles filled with death, and a man who had just admitted he’d sell them wherever someone was buying. That this might be used not in some faraway desert. That it might be used at an El station or a museum. A church, or a shopping mall, or a school.

That it might be used in the kinds of places Cassie went.

VICTOR SAID, “Now, if we’re done with the philosophy lesson, I’d like my merchandise, please. Put it in the bag.”

Mitch felt hollowed out. Pulled too hard in too many directions. He was standing in front of the devil, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Well, one thing. Small and pointless, but something. “No.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You want it, it’s right there. I won’t be part of this.”

Victor laughed. “Won’t be part of it? You are part of it. All four of you. Don’t you see? You had it for days. You knew it was dangerous. I’m betting that you had to know in your heart more or less what it was. Right?”

Mitch shook his head, but Victor only smiled, said, “Sure you did. You knew. You just didn’t want to admit it. Because if you did, you’d have to do something about it. And doing something, well, that’s not what the four of you specialize in.”

“What do you know about the four of us?”

“I know that if you really wanted to stop me, if you truly wanted to keep this from hurting anyone, all you had to do was go to the police. And I know that you didn’t.”

Words like ball-peen hammer blows. Part of him wanted to argue, to say that it was more complicated than that. And it was. But it was also that simple. They had not only failed one another. They had failed hundreds, maybe thousands, of innocent people. They had become everything they used to despise.

“You see? If you had never gotten involved, then you’d be innocent. But you had a chance to stop me. And you didn’t take it. Which makes you guilty, Mitch. When my clients use it-and they will-it will be your fault.” Victor paused, took a sip of his liquor. “Now. Put those bottles in the bag and bring them to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to know that you’re beaten. That you lost completely.” Victor’s smile was broad and bright.

Mitch knew it didn’t make a difference, but he didn’t care. “I won’t do it.”

“Remember when I told you to believe every word I say? Believe this.” The man’s voice hard, pure alpha dog. “You will put those bottles in the bag, and you will bring it to me, and you’ll thank me for the privilege.”

“I won’t. And meanwhile, the police are on their way. We told them about you. They’ll be here any minute.”

“I don’t think so.” Victor reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone. “Amazing gadgets, these things. Used to be, a phone was for making calls. Now they can give you directions, play music”-he turned the screen to Mitch-“even take pictures.”

No. Oh, no.