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some bath salts in the tub because the tiny room
smelled like roses. She was so tired, if she could just sit down in
the warm water and not get up again. He helped her out of the
jacket and did the same with her windbreaker.
    The room got smaller as he pulled at her
shirt; fingers paused on the thin cotton, clearly asking her
permission to take it off. She knew what she looked like and
wondered why he didn't ignore her and continue with the business of
undressing her, but obviously he had some vestige of decency. She
held her arms out and he pulled the shirt up and over her head.
    He was close, right up against her as he
dropped to his knees and undid her button. The slow rasp of her
zipper made her shudder and she stopped him, one hand tightly
curled around his wrist. Her pants sagged down on one hip.
    “I'll get the rest,” she said, all too aware
of everything about him. His size, his scent, his very presence in
her home. She could feel his heart pounding under her fingers and
his breath on the sensitive flesh of her stomach. She released him
quickly. “I have bandages in my medicine cabinet. Antibiotics. My
cousin is a doctor. I could call him—”
    Keegan stood, rubbing the back of his wrist.
His eyes were dark and lingered on her slowly slipping khakis.
“It’s a gunshot wound. He’d have to report it and I don’t need
complications right now.”
    Her entire life was a complication. What was
one more? She didn't realize she said it out-loud until Keegan gave
her a sharp look.
    “Whoever killed your friend is trying to
create buy-in for a series of accidents. Killing you now would be a
bad move on their part. Take your time. We’ll move when you’re
ready.”
    ****
    Keegan rubbed at his eyes, too tired to do
more than stand in one place and sway.
    Jen had curled up against the living room’s
central wall, using the cushions he’d arranged for her. Apparently
houses in Hawaii didn’t come with central heat. He’d asked her
where the controls were and she’d pointed out a space heater doing
the usual crappy space-heater job before going belly down on the
cushions, one arm up over her head.
    He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.
She was exhausted and he was out of time. Things were starting to
strobe.
    DalCon Security was a small firm with less
than thirty operatives and support staff, but their rescue ops were
the stuff of legend. They’d dealt with the Samoy before, knew what
to expect. The People’s Army of the Samoy Independent States called
it protective custody, but Keegan knew it for a hostage situation.
The Samoy wanted two million in ten days. Less than half the time
they’d allotted Sung Kai for the return of his boy. It was a
nuisance fee and Keegan was expected to swallow it, because if he
didn’t they would all die, beginning with Connor, and ending with
the rest of them when Keegan went crazy and tried to take out the
Samoy stronghold.
    Jen rolled over and hit the wall with a soft
grunt. Long black hair spilled out over her shoulders and puddled
at his feet. Keegan re-adjusted her blanket and found himself
holding the plaid fabric while his world spun out of control. He
couldn’t crash yet. The blanket’s orange and black pattern reminded
him of Halloween. A sliver of pale green silk peeked up over the
waist of her pajama bottoms. She was so pretty and he didn’t want
any pumpkins.
    “ Padraic! Catch him, quick—”
    A blur of motion and camouflage, hard arms
dragging him away from Jen and pushing him over on the floor.
Keegan flopped on his back, arms outstretched.
    Plain black sneakers stopped next to his head
and tapped impatiently. “How do you feel?”
    “Shoulder,” he muttered.
    Corlis checked his dressing with long cool
fingers. “Minimal damage. You can change it later. We have a
problem.”
    Fallon dropped beside her and jerked a pair
of night vision goggles down around his throat. He didn’t look any
better than Keegan felt, but he was mobile, which put him in