Chapter Forty-Nine

The resulting silence was profound. It became an almost tangible entity as Rory watched the two frozen combatants in the center of the kitchen. Since Joey had things well in hand, he crossed to the counter, leaned against it, and waited.

“When?” Joey’s voice sounded like a shot. Or was it Lena’s?

The two alters had merged again, and Rory was suddenly unable to distinguish between them. If the situation weren’t so explosive, he would have been fascinated.

Hell, he still was.

“When what?” Phil whined pitifully. He was certainly frightened enough to tell her anything she wanted to hear, thanks to Lena.

Pointedly, she tapped the gun to the base of his neck, making Phillip squirm even more. “When. Did. Bobby. Ask. Questions. About. Me?” She emphasized each word with a threatening tap.

“I dunno. A year ago, maybe. Yeah, last year.”

Which explained a great deal, Rory thought.

Once Creed knew the identity she was working under at the time, he must have changed the arrangements she’d made for her stay at the detox center and had her committed to Prima Vista, instead. Only one question remained. Why had he gone to so much trouble? What was his endgame?

Rory was absolutely certain there was one. And that it wasn’t anything good. Not for Nina, or for him.

Lena got to her feet. “Now, wasn’t that easy? If you’d told me this when I first came in, I wouldn’t have had to bust you up like this.”

From the look of his split lip, broken tooth and nose, and limp leg, she had basically taken him out almost the same way she’d attacked Rory that first day at Prima Vista.

“I gotta tell you, Phil. You disappoint me. I paid you good money for client privileges. That means I expect you to keep your mouth shut to everybody. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a spasmodic nod from Phil.

She continued, “I’d hate to have O’Donnell, here, come back and make you really sorry. You don’t want that, do you?”

Phil’s shifty eyes slipped warily from Joey to Rory and back with a shake of his head.

“He looks like a good ol’ boy, I know, but don’t let that fool you. He’s scary.”

Rory quirked a brow at the yarn she was spinning, but she wasn’t finished.

“Don’t make me do it, Phil. Because, despite everything, I really do like you.”

Another hasty nod from Phil had her smiling. The gun disappeared under the waistband of her jeans. And that smoothly, her body language shifted back to being Joey’s. Completely.

“Good. Now, get up and sit on a chair. I’m getting a damn neck cramp from looking down at you.”

Apparently she felt the threat had been neutralized, so Lena was no longer needed.

Again, Rory couldn’t help but wonder about the dynamics of the two alters working together like that. Had Lena taken over the physical part of the interrogation, while Joey steered the dialogue? Were the boundaries between them fading, or had it just been a temporary merge, of sorts?

Was such a thing even possible?

Whatever the dynamics, instinct told him it was a good sign.

Phil moaned with the effort of lifting his battered body off the floor. He dragged himself toward the indicated chair. A faint smile on her face, she followed his progress.

Finally, she turned and opened the fridge. “Put this on your knee, Phil,” she told him, and launched a cold beer in his direction.

Phil desperately fumbled with the flying can, catching it just before it hit him in the face.

Deciding they’d already spent too much time here, Rory said, “Joey, get on with it. Finish this, or I’ll do it for you,” keeping to the role she had cast for him. He wanted out of there as soon as possible. Creed could be somewhere close.

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me a sec.” She popped the top off another beer. “I have one last question for you, Phil. Where can I find Bobby?”

Good question.

Rory looked at Phil with interest.

“I don’t know!” Phil sputtered, eyes bulging in fear. “I thwear, Joe. He didn’t tell me, and I didn’t athk. I haven’t theen him thince that night a year ago. Honeth’ to God!”

She looked doubtful and lifted her beer to take another sip.

Enough of this.

Rory filched the can from her hand and drained it in a single gulp, ignoring her scowl. He crushed the empty can and tossed it in the sink. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Fine. Well, always a pleasure to catch up, Phil.” She gave the miserable man a mild smile. “You might want to have a doctor look at that knee. And in the future, keep your damn mouth shut.”

Phil nodded frantically.

“One last tip, Phil. Hide. Bobby is out there, and he will not be happy with you.”

Phil paled to the point Rory feared he would pass out.

Joey spun on her heel and headed out of the kitchen, calling, “Yo! You coming, O’Donnell?” on her way out of the apartment.

After one last warning look at Phil, Rory followed. He caught up with her on the way to the staircase.

“How did you find me?” she asked without bothering to look at him.

“Traced the call you made from the lobby. Why did you leave without me?” It took a real effort to keep his tone neutral.

“I needed to know who gave me up,” she said, throwing him a glance. “Traced it, huh? Nice.”

He gritted his teeth to keep from lecturing her—again—as they made their way down the littered stairwell. Her stubbornness was going to get her killed some day.

Halfway down, his frustration burst out unchecked, anyway. “You shouldn’t have sneaked out on me. I can’t protect you when you’re off on your own.”

“Would you have let me go if I’d told you?”

Hell, no!

But wisely, he remained silent.

She gave him a knowing sideways glance. “That’s why,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, O’Donnell. I appreciate your diligence, but I have been looking after myself for a long time.”

“And look where that got you,” he ground out, but instantly regretted the cheap shot.

She glowered at him. “That’s low, Rory. Not your style,” she scolded.

He reined in his frustration, breathed in, out, and in again, and somehow found his control. “Sorry,” he offered at last. “You scared the hell out of me, disappearing like that. For all I knew, Creed had taken you. Even you have to admit, you’re in way over your head dealing with that psycho.”

“Maybe.” She managed to look contrite. “Will you feel better if I apologize and promise not to do it again?”

“No. Because you won’t mean it. Tell me about Bobby, or should I say Creed?”

She remained stubbornly mute.

They crossed the grungy foyer, now empty of would-be gangstas, and left the building. Within minutes they were headed out of Memphis.

“Whatever his real name, I knew him as Bobby,” she said after a while. “We did a job together a few years back.”

Rory glanced over at her in surprise. He had given up on getting an answer. “You sound…angry.”

Actually, angry didn’t quite describe the edge in her voice.

“We didn’t exactly part on friendly terms, Bobby and I.”

“What happened?”

Rather than answer immediately, she pulled a cigarette pack from her purse, considered it for a moment, then put it back. She turned back to him. “Our opinions clashed. He wanted to handle a sticky situation one way, and I wanted to do it differently. It was simple as that.”

Rory now recalled the file about the mission she was referring to. Six people had died during the theft of a new type of explosive from a lab in Israel. The incident’s collateral damage had been unacceptable to Nina. She had requested reassignment to a different section of ATDF.

A year later, she had been forced to work with Creed again.

This time as Lena Alvarez.