“No, we’re in Detroit. She left without any Evocane, meaning she’s got a source outside WEFT’s walls. Soon as she gets it, she’s coming for you.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Peri had a right to be pissed, but kill him? She was his girl. Swinging his feet to the floor, Bill tugged the sheet to cover himself and turned on the light. “Denier?” he asked, not believing he’d cracked the biologic.

“The arena’s pissant,” Jack said, his sarcasm heavy. “Peri left half with him, gave half to Steiner so he wouldn’t know there was a second vial and tear the arena apart looking for it. Listen, she made me tell Michael—”

Bill tensed as Jack’s words cut off. He stood, sending his hand under the covers in search of his boxers and dragging them out from the foot of the bed. “Jack?”

“Just a sec,” Jack said, and Bill heard the sound of the phone being set down.

Impatient, Bill tugged his boxers on. Fully awake, he went into the living room, shutting the bedroom door carefully behind him. Detroit spread out below him past the newly renovated window walls. The city lights looked bright even under the light-pollution reduction bulbs that Detroit had put in ten years ago. Habit kept him from going closer to the window for a better view, and he stood in the kitchen, impatient.

“Okay, I’m back,” Jack said. “I wanted to make sure she was in the shower.”

“You told Michael what?” Bill asked, not liking this.

“She had a gun to my gut,” Jack said, and Bill’s brow furrowed, not knowing what was going to come out of Jack’s mouth. “She made me tell him that she had accelerated herself and was on her way home. That you were never going to accelerate him. Bill, she’s on the warpath. Looking for a head on a pole. She doesn’t care if it’s yours or Michael’s. Either way, she gets a win.”

Bill leaned against the glass counter, the entire surface lighting up with the home’s security system, TV schedule, email accounts, and kitchen stores. I’m out of wine, he noted absently, then waved the surface off, head down as he thought through the ramifications. “That sounds like something my Peri would do,” he said, proud of her even as it wreaked havoc with his plans. She was angry and wasn’t going to let anyone walk over her. “Okay.” He’d worked miracles with less. “She’s showering, eh? Get her to draft, and when she jumps, scrub her and get her back here.”

“No.”

“No?” It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it, but the last occasion Jack had told him no, his world had gone to hell.

Bill’s head snapped up as the counter lit up again, the security frame a bright red. From beside the door, the locking panel began flashing. In his hand, his phone began to glow as a security text came in. It was the silent alarm, and his frown deepened. “Oh, good,” he said sarcastically, wishing he was wearing something more than boxers. “I think Michael’s here. Get Peri back to Opti, or I’m coming for you myself, Jack. Understand?”

“Bill,” Jack began to protest, and he hung up. The counter dutifully recorded the phone call, then went dark.

“That’s my girl,” Bill muttered as he yanked the dishwasher out from under the counter. Fingers fumbling, he found the handgun taped to the underside of it and checked the clip. “Keep ’em reacting and disoriented.”

Adrenaline jerked through him as the door exploded inward. Bill dropped at the crack of a rifle, the shrapnel from the granite counter cutting his face.

“Stand up, you son of a bitch!” Michael shouted, and Bill sighed.

“Bill?” Susanne’s voice was clear, and Bill stood when she shrieked, just in time to see her flee back into the bedroom and slam the door.

Michael’s attention swung back to him, steadying as he saw the pistol pointed at him. The ambient glow of the city lit them, and Michael chuckled. Bill calmly took the safety off. “She’s lying,” he said simply.

“Like hell she is.” Michael’s voice was just as calm, and it unsettled Bill. “Jack said you had no intention of accelerating me.”

Pushing Michael into a corner would make the man more unpredictable. The pad by the door had stopped flashing, meaning a response was coming. A bead of sweat ran down Bill’s back, and with a deliberate motion, he set the pistol within his reach. It was doubtful that Michael would draft and risk Bill wiping his memory right down to the day of his birth.

“I’ve never lied to you, Michael. Think about it.”

“You’re lying to me right now.” Michael eased deeper into the living room, dangerous—like a lion. “Jack called me. He took her out of WEFT, you son of a bitch. You don’t need me anymore.”

“He called me, too.” Damn, even his feet were sweating, sticking to the tile floor. “Jack didn’t take Peri. Peri took Jack. She’s running rabbit, and she forced him to make that call in exchange for helping him. She’s trying to kill you,” he said, then hesitated in thought. “Or me. She doesn’t really care. Be smart about this, Michael.”

“Bullshit!” Michael shouted.

Not even looking at the rifle pointed at him, Bill showed his hands in a gesture of bewilderment. “Think it through, Michael. I have been transparent about the research. You’ve seen the med wing. Hell, you’ve brought in the retired drafters we experimented it on. Once accelerated, a draft will cause a psychotic episode unless you buffer it with Evocane. That’s it. She is trying to kill you,” he said, his disgust thick in his voice. “And you believe her?”

The boom of gunfire jolted both of them. For an instant, Bill thought Michael had shot him, but it was Michael who fell, hands clasped about his knee. Bill’s gaze shot to the front door. A man thick with Kevlar garments rocked in, shouting. It was Bill’s men, not the police, and anger furrowed his brow.

“I won’t forget this,” Michael moaned, teeth clenched.

Furious, Bill strode from the kitchen, arms waving. “Did I tell you to shoot him?” he shouted at the armed men, feeling his face become red. “What the hell are you doing!”

“Sir.” The man fumbled, lights flashing on the walls from the cars outside. “He had a semiautomatic.”

“Get out!” Bill exclaimed, and then he staggered back when Michael’s rifle went off, the solid boom of it rocking the windows. The Kevlar-coated man was flung back, his head hitting the stone wall with a resounding thud. He fell to the floor, out cold but probably alive. The shouts outside became more demanding.