His voice was soothing, surprising me. Forcing myself to straighten, I nodded, wondering why he cared, or even if he did. Exhaling, I forced my hands open and loose.

Bustling with efficiency, Lee edged back around his desk and sat. He was smiling to show his white teeth amid his suntanned face. "Trent," he said, leaning back in his chair. It was larger than ours, and I think it put him several inches taller. Subtle. "I'm glad you came to see me. We should talk before anything gets more out of hand than it has."

"Out of hand?" Trent didn't move, and I watched his concern for me melt into nothing. Green eyes hard, he set his shot glass on the desk between them, the soft click sounding louder than it should. Never looking from Saladan's sloppy grin, he took over the room. This was the man who killed his employees in his office and got away with it, the man who owned half the city, the man who thumbed his nose at the law, living above it in his fortress in the middle of an old-growth, planned-out forest.

Trent was angry, and I suddenly didn't mind that they were ignoring me.

"You derailed two of my trains, caused a near strike of my trucking line, and burned down my primary public relations effort," Trent said, a wisp of his hair starting to float.

I stared at him while Lee shrugged. Primary public relations effort? It had been an orphanage. God, how cold could you be?

"It was the easiest way to get your attention." Lee sipped his drink. "You've been inching your way past the Mississippi the last ten years. Did you expect anything less?"

Trent's jaw tightened. "You're killing innocent people with the potency of the Brimstone you're putting on the streets."

"No!" Lee barked, pushing the glass from him. "There are no innocents." Thin lips pressed together, he leaned forward, angry and threatening. "You crossed the line," he said, shoulders tense under his tux. "And I wouldn't be here culling your weak clientele if you stayed on your side of the river as agreed."

"My father made that agreement, not me. I've asked your father to lower the levels he allows in his Brimstone. People want a safe product. I give it to them. I don't care where they live."

Lee fell back with a sound of disbelief. "Spare me the benefactor crap," he simpered. "We don't sell to anyone who doesn't want it. And Trent? They want it. The stronger, the better. The death levels even out in less than a generation. The weak die off, the strong survive, ready and willing to buy more. To buy stronger. Your careful regulation weakens everyone. There's no natural balance, no strengthening of the species. Maybe that's why there are so few of you left. You've killed yourself by trying to save them."

I sat with my hands deceptively slack in my lap, feeling the tension rise in the small room. Culling weak clientele? Strengthening the species? Who in hell did he think he was?

Lee made a quick movement, and I twitched.

"But the bottom line," Lee said, easing back when he saw me move, "is that I'm here because you are changing the rules. And I'm not leaving. It's too late for that. You can hand everything over to me and graciously move off the continent, or I will take it, one orphanage, one hospital, one train station, street corner, and bleeding-heart innocent at a time." He took a sip of his drink and cradled it in his laced hands. "I like games, Trent. And if you remember, I won whatever we played."

Trent's eye twitched. It was his only show of emotion. "You have two weeks to get out of my city," he said, his voice a smooth ribbon of calm water hiding a deadly under-tow. "I'm going to maintain my distribution. If your father wants to talk, I'm listening."

"Your city?" Lee flicked his eyes over me, then back to Trent. "Looks to me like it's split." He arched his thin eyebrows. "Very dangerous, very attractive. Piscary is in prison. His scion is ineffective. You're vulnerable from the veneer of honest businessman you hide behind. I'm going to take Cincinnati and the distribution net you have so painstakingly developed, and use it as it ought to be. It's a waste, Trent. You could control the entire Western Hemisphere with what you have, and you're pissing it away on half-strength Brimstone and biodrugs to dirt farmers and welfare cases that won't ever make anything of themselves—or anything for you."

A seething anger warmed my face. I happened to be one of those welfare cases, and though I would probably be shipped off to Siberia in a biocontainment bag if it ever got out, I bristled. Trent was scum, but Lee was disgusting. I opened my mouth to tell him to shut up about things he didn't understand when Trent touched my leg with his shoe in warning.

The rims of Trent's ears had gone red, and his jaw was tight. He tapped at the arm of the chair, a deliberate show of his agitation. "I do control the Western Hemisphere," Trent said, his low, resonating voice making my stomach clench. "And my welfare cases have given me more than my father's paying customers—Stanley."

Lee's tanned face went white in anger, and I wondered what was being said that I didn't understand. Perhaps it hadn't been college. Maybe they had met at "camp."

"Your money can't force me out," Trent added. "Ever. Go tell your father to lower his Brimstone levels and I'll back off from the West Coast."

Lee stood, and I stiffened, ready to move. He placed his hands spread wide, bracing himself. "You overestimate your reach, Trent. You did when we were boys, and nothing has changed. It's why you almost drowned trying to swim back to shore, and why you lost every game we played, every race we ran, every girl we made a prize." He was pointing now, underscoring his words. "You think you're more than you are, having been coddled and praised for accomplishments that everyone else takes for granted. Face it. You're the last of your kind, and it's your arrogance that put you there."

My eyes shifted between them. Trent sat with his legs comfortably crossed and his fingers laced. He was absolutely still. He was incensed, none of it showing but for the hem of his slacks trembling. "Don't make a mistake you can't walk away from," he said softly. "I'm not twelve anymore."

Lee backed up, a misplaced satisfaction and confidence in him as he eyed the door behind me. "You could have fooled me."

The door latch shifted and I jerked. Candice walked in, an institutional-white mug of coffee in her hand. "Excuse me," she said, her kitten-soft voice only adding to the tension. She slunk between Trent and Lee, breaking their gazes on each other.

Trent shook out his sleeves and took a slow breath. I glanced at him before reaching for the coffee. He looked shaken, but it was from repressing his anger, not fear. I thought of his biolabs and Ceri safely hiding with an old man across the street from my church. Was I making choices for her that she should be making for herself?

The mug was thick, the warmth of it seeping into my fingers when I took it. My lip curled when I realized she had put cream in it. Not that I was going to drink it. "Thanks," I said, making an ugly face right back at her when she took a sexually charged pose atop Lee's desk, her legs crossed at the knee.

"Lee," she said, leaning to make a provocative show. "There is a slight problem on the floor that needs your attention."

Looking annoyed, he pushed her out of his way. "Deal with it, Candice. I'm with friends."

Her eyes went black and her shoulders stiffened. "It's something you need to attend. Get your ass downstairs. It won't wait."

I flicked my gaze to Trent, reading his surprise. Apparently the pretty vamp was more than decoration. Partner? I wondered. She sure was acting like it.

She cocked one eyebrow at Lee in mocking petulance, making me wish I could do the same. I still hadn't bothered to learn how. "Now, Lee," she prompted, slipping off the desk and going to hold the door for him.