His grin seemed to warm his face, like he might still be thinking about that first misinterpretation of my dare. “Why four and a half days? You’re only on the hook for twenty-four hours.”

“To make up for the difference in the degree of difficulty. Unless you don’t think you can do it.”

“You’re on. And if I win?”

“What do you want?” I asked, and regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth.

Ian stared down at me again from inches away, so close I could feel the heat from his skin through both layers of clothes. I could see what he wanted—some hint of it, anyway—in his eyes. And again, my breath deserted me.

“A compliment.”

“What?” His answer was so unexpected I couldn’t even make sense of it.

“If I win, you have to tell me what you like best about me. With a straight face.”

“That’s it?” Was his ego that malnourished?

“That’s it.” His smile was a quiet challenge, and I couldn’t help wondering if this was some kind of trick.

“Fine. Let’s get out of here.” I unbolted the door and turned off the light, and his hand slid into mine like he’d been planning that since the moment he’d closed the door behind us. I stepped forward—there was only room for a single step—and he walked with me. A second later, we were in the bathroom of his hotel room, left dark on purpose that morning.

He let go of my hand and pulled the door open, and light poured in from the bedroom, but I stayed put when he stepped into it. “I have to go change, and I need to report to Jake after that. Will you be okay for a couple of hours?”

“I’ve been staying home by myself since I was nine, Kori.”

“So you’ve got it down by now, right? I’ll see you back here at four.”

Ian nodded and started to close the door, then stopped and looked at me, and there was something in his expression I couldn’t quite identify. “Will we be working together?” he asked. “If I sign with Tower?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “Probably. But you never can tell with Jake. Why? Is that a deal-breaker?” I was joking. At least, I was trying to. But he didn’t laugh.

“Quite the opposite. I think that may be the only thing that would make wearing his chain links bearable.”

Ten

Ian

I don’t know why I asked her that. It wasn’t fair. And it didn’t matter, because I wasn’t going to sign with Tower. Kori and I would never work together.

The damn dare was a mistake, too. If she won, I’d have to present her with a bottle of vodka, right around the time I killed her sister, like some kind of morbid condolence for the crime I’d committed. I’d be lucky if she didn’t beat me to death with it.

What the hell are you doing, Ian?

When Kori was gone, I glanced at my watch, then picked up my cell phone. Aaron answered on the second ring. “Hello?” he croaked into the phone, and springs creaked as he rolled over in bed.

“Get up. I need a lift.”

“Night shift, man. I gotta get more sleep.”

“This is the only chance I’m going to have, and I have to be back in two hours. Get dressed.”

More springs creaked, and Aaron groaned. “Where are you?”

I gave him the hotel’s address and the room number, then hung up. Five minutes later, the bathroom door creaked open and Aaron padded into the living room of my hotel suite in huge, dog-shaped slippers and a pair of navy boxer briefs.

“Where the hell are your pants?”

Aaron shrugged. “You said you were in a hurry, so I rushed right over.”

“Did anyone see you?”

Aaron scowled on his way to the minibar. “Do I look like an idiot?” When I only glanced at his slippers, he rolled his eyes. “Do I normally look like an idiot?” Before I could answer, he knelt in front of the minibar and opened the fridge. “I need a drink.”

I slammed the fridge closed. “You can make coffee when we get there. There’s a robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door.”

Aaron put the robe on, then stepped into the bathroom while I pulled my phone from my pocket and autodialed Meghan’s number. “Ian? Why isn’t it done?” she said into my ear, after only a ring and a half.

My eyes closed. Of course she knew it wasn’t over. She’d be able to feel it when the binding was broken. “Turn off the light. We’re coming over.”

Meghan hung up without a reply, and Aaron turned the bathroom light off as I pushed the door closed. He took my arm, bared by the sleeve I’d rolled up, and a second later we stepped into another bathroom thirty miles away, in the suburbs.

This bathroom felt familiar, even with the lights off. It smelled like fruit-scented shampoo, bleach and the slightly scorched scent of every scrap of blood-soaked material that had ever been burned in the old-fashioned iron tub. When I stepped forward and reached for the light switch, my foot landed on ceramic tile, not as old as the tub, but older than I was, by several years. The tile was yellow, like the wallpaper exposed when I flipped the switch and let the light in.

The floors in the rest of the house were real wood, scarred from use and warped in places from the spills and drips of three generations. Aaron and Meghan had grown up here, as had their mother. This house was as safe a rendezvous point as any other, and a good deal safer than Aaron’s apartment in the city.