The hall light flipped on, and Chess heard a slight, definite click. “Let go of my sister, asshole.” Charlie wasn't messing around. “Or I'll blow your fucking friend's head off."

Oh, boy.

A definite tremor went through Ryan's body. Chess wriggled free, his arms going loose and dropping down to his sides. He stared, not at Charlie but at Chess, his eyes unblinking and gone deep and dark. He had never looked more feral, his eyebrows faintly drawn together and his hands slowly curling into fists. She wondered if he was fighting those “instincts” again.

Charlie had her knee in the other man's back, and Chess saw, with no real surprise, it was the hunk in tweed, Paul. And her sister was holding a very nice baby Glock, the end of the barrel pressed to the back of Paul's skull. Charlie's hair was wildly mussed, her eyes all but snapped sparks, her linen jacket was torn and she'd lost a shoe.

She looked magnificent. Chess's heart hammered in her throat. The wild urge to laugh rose up inside her throat, died away. Where did you get that gun from, Charlie?

"Chess?” Her older sister was breathing rapidly, her ribs almost flickering. “These guys friends, or should I put a bullet in this asshole's head?"

Oh, Charlie, God bless you. “Charlie, this is Ryan. The one on the floor is Paul. Guys, this is my sister, Charlie.” I saw you kill a man with your bare hands, Ryan. But wouldn't you know, I'm actually glad to see you. “You can let him up off the floor and put the gun away. I don't think they're here to kill me."

"Are these the good guys?” Charlie didn't look convinced.

"Ryan is.” She heard the conviction in her own voice and winced. “The guy you're holding down is an arrogant fuck, but he's basically all right."

"What are they doing hiding in here?” But Charlie eased up on the gun with an ease that spoke of long practice. “Did you give them a key?"

"No, I didn't.” But it's not the first time he's grabbed me just as I got through the door.

Ryan was still staring at her. He was shaking, she realized, his fists visibly trembling. His jaw was set, his eyes glittering—he looked like a man on the edge of murder. “Ryan?” Her throat was suddenly dry. “You okay?"

"Ow,” Paul spoke up. “Get off, woman! God, I've been beaten to a pulp by goddamn Inkani today, I don't need any more.” There was the sound of movement, then a long, low whistle. “Shit. Stay still. Listen, Ms. Barnes, you'd better touch him."

She stared, fascinated, as a muscle twitched in Ryan's cheek. He hadn't blinked once. He stared at her like he was trying to stare his way through her. “What the hell are you talking about?” She shifted her weight as if to step back, and Ryan twitched.

Chess froze.

"Look,” Paul said quietly. “Just step up to him, nice and easy, and touch him. Skin on skin's best. He's worked himself into a state worrying about you, and right now he's fighting to stay calm. Just trust me on this one, okay?"

Trust you? Oh, sure. You're an arrogant fucking Malik who wants to steal my library… but you did help me get away from those things. All right. “Ryan?” I sound like a little girl, all breathy.

"I'm serious, woman. You want him to snap? Calm him down, or he's going to go ballistic."

Since when is that my problem? But she swallowed, and stepped forward slowly. Very slowly. He watched her, his eyes half-closed and volcanic tremors going through him in waves. Christ, he looks ready to explode. “Ryan? Take a deep breath, calm down. Okay?"

Another step closer. He watched her; if his fists got any tighter his palms might start bleeding.

"What the hell's wrong with him?” Charlie whispered. Chess didn't blame her, the waves of rage coming off Ryan shimmered like heat over pavement.

"He's fighting his instincts,” Paul whispered back. “Don't worry. She'll calm him down, he won't hurt her."

"How do you know?” Charlie didn't sound convinced.

Hear, hear, Chess seconded. Ryan stared at her, the glimmer of eyes under his lids oddly hot.

"She's about the only person safe from him right now. Stay still.” Thank God Paul sounded calm.

You and I are going to have a long talk about this, Mr. Tweedy. A nice long coffee klatch. Chess reached out, her right hand meeting Ryan's. Her fingertips touched his fist, hard as rock and shaking a little. What am I supposed to do? Last time he got this upset he wanted me to talk to him. I wonder if that would work now? “Ryan.” She heard herself using her firm-but-gentle voice, as if she was talking to a five-year-old at the library, or a feral cat. “Take a breath, calm down. It's all right. Everything's all right. I didn't know you'd come back here. I thought you were gone with your partner."

A shudder went through him. His fist unloosed, his palm turned out, and he grabbed her wrist. She almost flinched, expecting him to squeeze, but his fingers were gentle. Almost exquisitely gentle. He still stared at her, a muscle flicking irregularly in his cheek.

Keep talking, you idiot. Calm him down. Okay. “I hope you guys didn't clean out my fridge. I'm a little hungry. We were planning on going out for Thai. I'm going to spend the night at Charlie's, it seems safer than staying home alone. Now you've got your partner back everything's cool, right? I'm glad he's alive.” But who was in that room? And your fingerprints are probably in there. God. What are you going to do if the police come after you? “I'd ask you what happens next, but you seem a little occupied right now. This is my sister, she's a lawyer but don't hold it against her. I had no idea she was carrying a gun."

The tension was slowly leaving Ryan's shoulders. A little sense began to come back into his eyes. Chess tried again. “I'm glad to see you. I don't like you picking the lock on my front door, though. Or leaving it unlocked. Although who would come in and try to steal my TV with you in here, I don't know. Nobody's that stupid. I hope."

He took a deep breath, his eyes closing and his mouth relaxing. His face smoothed out. The rage simmering in the air drained away. Chess let out a long, soft breath, relieved. She pulled gently against his hand, trying to free her wrist, but he didn't let go.

"Chess.” His voice was harsh, strained. “Are you all right?"

He sounded like he was being strangled. Chess swallowed, hard. “I'm fine,” she soothed. “I think I pulled something running away from there, and I'm not at all happy about this turn of events, but… I'm fine. I'm glad you didn't disappear. I thought you were going back to the Order."

He shook his head. “They wouldn't have me,” he whispered. The last of the tension left him, his shoulders sagged. “I told you, I'm on your side. I'm useless to them now."

"I wouldn't go that far,” she pointed out. “You're the only one I trust.” Christ, did I just say that? I think I did. Lord help me, I've gone and got myself attracted to a guy who scares the hell out of me and kisses like a thunderbolt. Not to mention kills people with his bare hands. We're going to have to talk about that, Ryan.

Amazingly, one corner of his mouth curled up in a smile. “Really?” He sounded delighted and hoarse all at the same time. “You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it,” she soothed. “We're partners, remember? Now, how about you calm down and quit scaring all of us?"

Ryan nodded. There was a shadow of coal-black stubble on his cheeks, his shoulders slumped, and he suddenly looked tired. “Sorry.” He sounded sorry, too. “I was worried about you."

Oh, Lord. I'm in too deep. Who would have guessed? “You were? Well, I'm okay. I'm here. Are you okay now?"

He nodded, once, sharply, then let go of her wrist. Chess almost flinched again, controlled the movement. His eyes opened back up, and he looked down at her. She caught a flash of something far back in his dark eyes—something like resignation, maybe—and her heart leapt into her throat. She was suddenly very conscious that her hair was sticking up all over her head, she was wearing damp clothes that smelled like an alleyway, her face felt sandy and her mouth foul from sleeping on Charlie's office couch. Her heart was in her throat, and the world seemed to have shifted off its axis by a couple of crucial degrees.