In the front seat, Althea leaned farther toward LaFavre, her camisole pulled even lower than usual. "Do you carry a weapon?"

For crying out loud, he's flying the helicopter, Lucy thought, but LaFavre just grinned at her, his eyes hidden behind the night-vision goggles.

"I sure do, darlin'," he said. "Want to see it?"

Lucy nudged J.T. "Aren't you going to warn him?"

"Yeah," J.T. said. "I'm gonna tell him if he's not careful, she's going to show up naked in his bed and touch his gun."

Lucy started to laugh and felt the tears start instead. "Oh, God."

"Hey," J.T. said, his voice soft. He tugged gently on her braid and then kissed her cheek. "It's okay."

"I should get lots of Wonder Woman stuff for this," Pepper said from between them, her voice still a little quivery. "I was very brave."

"Yes, you were," Lucy said, forcing back the tears. "So was I. I should get lots of stuff, too."

"Plan on it," J.T. said.

She looked at him, so close in the dark, the same grim, monosyllabic guy who'd walked onto her bridge four days ago, and thought, Will Kane. And he loves me. Who knew? and began to smile.

"Hold on, my friends," LaFavre called out and banked the chopper toward the roadway of the Eugene Talmadge Memorial Bridge. They flew over all the flashing police and fire-truck lights and the still burning armored car, right between the lines of cables, underneath the two towers.

"Wow!" Pepper said, straightening, and J.T. grinned at her.

"Do you use hot loads?" Althea asked LaFavre.

"Me marrying a makeup girl," Bryce said. "It's like Pretty Woman. Without the hooker."

"I deserve a lot of Wonder Woman stuff," Pepper said.

"Me too," J.T. said.

Lucy started to laugh.

"Hey," J.T. said, trying to look wounded and grinning instead.

"Not you," Lucy said. "It's just that I can hear them playing my song." She leaned toward him and kissed him hard.

"Lots of good stuff," Pepper said, and snuggled down between them.

It was weird being shot. Tyler wasn't used to it. It slowed him down considerably, especially with the swamp full of people, probably looking for him. Maybe he shouldn't have shot at the Actor, but it had been instinct, just like he'd been trained.

He slogged on through the swamp, moving slower now, finally stopping to lean against a mudbank. He just couldn't figure how he'd missed. He'd never missed before. Ever. Put the crosshairs on them and they died, and he'd had the crosshairs on the Actor, the dumb shit who'd picked up that gun-

Then he remembered the Kid knocking over the rifle, the scope hitting the ground. The scope. Knocked out of alignment by that fucking Kid.

Luck's running out, he thought, and slumped against the dirt mound, watching his blood seep into the water. Lots of blood. He couldn't stop it anymore. And he was so cold. Cold as Moot. No, colder. Cold as Finnegan.

He heard a splash and saw the V in the water, one eye coming toward him.

Women, he thought as the swamp grew dark before his eyes.

Always wanting a piece of you.