He headed for Manhattan. She'd have to wait till tomorrow to learn the truth about the father of her grandchild.

Looking on the bright side, Jack had just been given a reprieve of sorts.

12

"I still think I should have called the cops," Dawn was saying as she applied an ice-filled baggy to his swollen knee. "Why didn't you let me?"

"Okay, for the fourth time," Jeremy said—damn, his voice sounded like he was holding his nose—"I don't want them thinkin I'm some kinda troublemaker. You know, like every week I'm gonna be in some kinda fight."

That, for once, was the truth. The second was that someone might have seen him with the tire iron. Why make a bad situation worse?

"Yeah, but, well, that guy's totally dangerous. I don't think I've ever seen anybody move so fast. One minute you were coming up behind him, a second later you were on the ground. For a moment there I wasn't sure what happened. I thought you'd disappeared."

Go ahead, he thought. Rub it in.

But he knew that wasn't what she was up to.

She'd changed from the frightened girl in the car to instant caregiver. Like seeing him hurt had flipped some sort of switch inside, and suddenly she couldn't do enough for him. She'd helped him to his feet and brought the car to him, saving him a painful walk. Then she'd driven him home, stretched him out on the couch, and had been playing nurse ever since.

"And why won't you tell me what's up between you and that guy? I thought you were friends."

Couldn't before—his head had been too fuzzy to come up with something. But he had a story now.

"Not friends, acquaintances. I didn't know it but he scammed a friend of mine in the city—duped him out of a small fortune—and now he's come out here to set me up." He did an embarrassed shrug. "I don't know what happened. I saw him and thought of how he just about ruined my buddy, and I guess I lost it."

"Well, he just about ruined you. Look at your nose," she said for the tenth time, clucking over him like a mother hen. "It's like twice its normal size. That's so got to hurt."

"Tike crazy."

Not true. Kind of numb, really, but why tell Dawn that? Maybe this was the key to keeping her under control: Get hurt, be needy, bring out her mothering instincts, let her think she'd taken charge. He was pretty sure he could find ways to keep it up until the baby was too old to be aborted, then he'd take over again.

"Poor thing. Do you think it's broken?"

"Absolutely."

"We've totally got to get you to a doctor."

Like hell. Last thing he needed now was a doctor.

"I'll be all right. But maybe just a little more ice for the nose… to help the swellin."

"You got it," she said and hurried off to the kitchen.

Good. He needed to be alone for a couple of minutes. Needed to think and that wasn't easy with her yakking and hovering over him like a hummingbird on speed.

The guy… Jeremy figured he'd call him Robertson for now, because he'd seemed concerned that Jeremy knew that name… maybe he wasn't an Enemy. He'd sounded baffled when Jeremy had mentioned the Bloodline… and had sounded sincere when he'd said he'd never heard of him until last week. If he was an Enemy, wouldn't he have killed Jeremy while he had the chance?

Maybe he was just what Vecca and Levy had said he was: a detective.

It 5 what I do.

Yeah… a detective. And one who knew his business. He'd somehow connected Jeremy and Hank—his carrying that copy of Kick around sort of proved that—but how?

Creighton. Had to be. All those meetings Hank and him had had, with Hank pretending to be researching a book. Had Vecca or Levy ratted? He didn't see why they would, but he didn't trust those two, especially not Levy.

Well, however he'd found out, he was tough—Jeremy's swollen nose proved that—and smart. And it was plain he was going to keep on digging and poking and meddling until he screwed everything to hell.

Only way he'd stop was if he met with a fatal accident. Or got fired—and Jeremy couldn't see Moonglow doing that. As long as she was paying him, he'd keep—

Hey, what if he stopped getting paid for another reason besides being fired? What if the lady doing the paying suddenly stopped signing his checks… because she was dead?

Jeremy thought about that for a few seconds, then rejected it. Wouldn't work. Too risky. Some neighbor might have seen them arguing. She got killed, someone might mention that. Dawn might be on the outs with dear old

Morn at the moment, but her bad feelings would go poof when she heard she was dead. And if she got even the tiniest idea in her head that Jeremy might have had anything to do with it—after seeing him with the tire iron, she might not think that was so far-fetched—she'd be on the first train to Abortion City.

But what if it looked like an accident?

No. Better yet—what if it looked like suicide?

Jeremy raised himself to sitting. He liked that. Moonglow had been acting crazy lately, and no one knew that better than Dawn. If Mom offed herself, Dawn would think it was partly her fault. She'd go on a major guilt trip, and with no family, there'd be only one person she could turn to.

Oh, yeah, he liked this a lot.

"What are you smiling at?"

He jumped at the sound of Dawn's voice. He looked up and saw her approaching with a fresh ice baggy. Had he been smiling? Yeah, probably. Why not?

"Just thinkin about what good care you're takin of me."

Inspiration struck then—he grabbed his neck and groaned.

"What's the matter?" SKe was at his side in a second. "You all right?"

"My neck—that guy must have crunched it harder than I thought."

"I'll get you some Advil."

"This ain't Advil pain, darlin. I'm gonna need something stronger—a lot stronger."

"But we don't—"

"Yeah, I know. But I know where we can get it."

"Where?"

He winked at her. "Dirty Danny."

"Oh, no. Not him. He looks like a total scuzz."

"He is. But he has the real thing." Grimacing, he struggled to his feet. "I'll score a few Vicodins to get me through the night."

"Are you crazy? You can't go down there now. You sit here and I'll go."

"No way, darlin. I'd rather suffer all night than let you anywhere near the likes of Dirty Danny. Gotta be me."

Dawn shrugged with annoyance. "All right, so it's gotta be you. But no way you're driving. I'll take you down there—right up to the door."

Jeremy hid a smile. Exactly what he'd figured she'd do. Exactly what he'd intended her to do.

13

"Jerry boy!" Dirty Danny said, catching Jeremy's limp as he approached, then fixating on his nose. "What the fuck happened to you, man?"

True to her word, Dawn had dropped him off at the front door and was double-parked outside now, waiting for him. He'd had a bad moment when he'd stepped inside and hadn't seen Dirty Danny at the bar, but then he'd spotted him moving away from one of the booths, stuffing something in his pocket along the way—a completed sale.

"Guess," Jeremy said, looking him in the eye.

Danny grinned and shrugged. "I dunno. Get hit by a truck or something?"

Apparently no word had got back to Work about what had happened. Good. He didn't want to be embarrassed to show his face here.

"Close enough. I'm hurtin a bit. Got any Vikes?"

Danny grinned as his hand slid toward his pocket. "Does the pope shit in the woods? You want brand name or generic?"

"What's the diff?"

"Brand goes for three times more. Same stuff in the pill, but some people just gotta see that VICODIN stamped on it."

"Not me. Dozen generics'll do." He kept his voice level, casual. "Could use a few roofies too."

Danny's eyebrows rose. "You want to forget about the accident?"