“Weez?”

“You’ve got all your clothes on?”

“Weez, what are you doing?”

“I need to snuggle,” she whispered. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck. “Is it okay if we snuggle? I’ve gotten used to sleeping alone, but after today . . . I think I need to snuggle. Do you mind?”

How could he refuse her? Anyway, it was just Weezy.

“No. Snuggle away.”

“Thanks.”

She spooned against him and snaked an arm around his chest, pulling herself closer.

She sighed. “This is nice. I needed this.”

Jack agreed it was nice, and if it gave her some comfort, even better. He was just drifting off into slumber when he felt her hand begin to move against his chest in a gentle circular motion. He waited for her to stop but she didn’t. Then she began sliding her palm down along his abdomen.

He grabbed her wrist.

“Weezy, what are you doing?”

“Just feeling a little needy.”

“With me? This is Jack, remember?”

“I know. And maybe that’s why. I mean, Jack . . . after all the years we spent together, all the growing up we did together, don’t you think we owe each other one time? Just once? That once probably would be ancient history by now if all those meds they tried on me hadn’t messed up my already messed-up head, but I’m clearheaded now and we’re here together in the same bed . . .”

“Yeah, but I’m taken.”

“We predate her.”

“Weez . . .”

“It’s because I got fat, isn’t it.”

How to let her down easy? No way this was going to happen, but he didn’t want to stomp on her feelings.

“Cool the fat talk. You’re not. And if I was in a different situation, I might think it was a great idea. But with things as they are, we’ll both regret it. Besides, you’re vulnerable right now—”

“Of course I’m vulnerable. I’ve been scared every day and every night. Then my worst fear is realized—someone kidnaps me. Or tries to. But a figure from the past, my tried-and-true friend Jack rides in with six-guns blazing and rescues me. And after we spend some time together I realize I want him—I want him reeeeeal bad.”

“I thought you said I was scary and not the Jack you knew.”

“I was upset then, but as we talked later I realized the Jack I knew as a kid would do anything, whatever it took, to help a friend. And that’s what you did this afternoon.”

“Okay, but not to sound like a broken record, Weez, I’m taken.”

“I’m not talking an affair here. I’m talking one time for ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ a moment, a lightning flash, and then we’ll have fulfilled a mutual destiny and it will be over. We’ll never speak of it again and she never has to know.”

“But I’ll know.”

Weezy wriggled her wrist free of his grasp and pulled her arm back. But she stayed spooned against him. She didn’t move and neither did Jack.

Had he hurt her?

She sobbed.

Damn, he had. He turned toward her.

“You’re taking this all wrong, Weez. I—”

“No, you are. I’m glad you turned me down.”

What? She’d always been unpredictable but . . .

“I’m not following.”

“It means you haven’t changed. The whole world is going to hell and nobody knows what’s up or what’s down, but here you are in the middle of it all, just as steady and true as you were when you were a kid.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that . . .”

“I do. And I’m just so damn happy there’s still someone I can count on in this world.” She pulled the sheet off and started to get up. Jack saw she was wearing a long, oversized T-shirt. “I’m sorry I put you on the spot like this. I’ll—”

He placed his hand against her back.

“Stay.”

She froze. “What?”

“You said you needed to snuggle, so let’s snuggle. Just . . . snuggle.”

After an instant’s hesitation, she lay back down and rested her head on his shoulder.

“That’s all I really wanted to do anyway. I was just kidding about the other stuff.”

“Just testing me, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

Jack doubted that, but with Weezy, you could never be one hundred percent sure. That was what made her Weezy.

“All right, now,” she said, settling against him. “Quit your incessant chatter and let me get some sleep.”

Jack smiled and stared at the ceiling until her breathing settled into a rhythmic pattern, then he closed his eyes.

2

The sound of shattering glass tore him from sleep. Then another smash.

Downstairs.

Jack grabbed the Glock from under the pillow and leaped for the door. Dropping to his knees he kept his head low as he peeked into the hallway. Then more glass shattered followed by a pair of whoomps! as yellow light lit the stairwell at the end of the hall.

Firebombs.

“Jack?”

She was sitting up in bed staring at him. Flickering light through the doorway lit her terrified features as he found his boots and began pulling them on.

“Your greatest fear is coming true. They’re burning down your house and everything in it.”

Including us.

“Ohmygod! What do we do!”

“We get the hell out and call the FD.”

She darted from the bed, screaming, “My papers! My papers!”

“They’re goners. We can’t save them.”

Leaving his boots untied, he followed her into the hall where smoke was pouring up the stairwell. He saw her disappear into her bedroom.

“Weez, we’ve got to get out!”

“I’m not going out in just a shirt and panties!”

He entered the room to find her pulling on sweatpants. He stepped to the barred window that overlooked the front yard and saw two men standing by a white van across the street, watching the flames. The van looked just like the one he’d ditched earlier.

Could it be . . . ?

“Shit!”

“What?”

He turned and saw her slipping into a pair of Crocs.

“Guys out front—either to make sure you don’t get out, or grab you if you do.”

“Oh, God!” Her voice quavered. “What do we do?”

Jack stepped back into the hall. The stairway was a mass of climbing flame.

“A window—out back.”

The two bedrooms were lined up along the south side of the house, the stairway and bathroom along the north. None of those windows were barred. Jack led Weezy to the other end of the hallway and checked out the backyard. A guy stood near the bushes along the rear fence.

Both doors covered, but no matter. The doors were downstairs and downstairs was not an option.

He pulled Weezy into his bedroom. After stuffing his phone and his wallet into various pockets, he stripped the sheet from the bed. He tied knots at both corners along the long axis, then opened the window. He kicked out the screen and motioned Weezy onto the sill.

“What?” She held back. “I can’t.”

Grabbing her upper arm he shoved her toward the opening.

“We haven’t got time for ‘can’t.’ Sit on the sill—everything outside but your butt. Now!”

She complied—shakily—and he steadied her until she was positioned outside the window. He handed her one of the knotted ends of the sheet and looped some of the rest around his hips.

“Grab it above the knot with both hands and hold on for dear life. I’m going to lower you.”

“I can’t do this!”

“I disagree.”

He gave her a shove and she tumbled off the sill with a high-pitched yelp. But she held on, legs kicking the air, as he eased the sheet over the edge. Suddenly her weight released. He looked out the window and saw her sprawled on the ground—she’d let go a little sooner than she had to, but she waved up at him, indicating she was okay.

Jack climbed out and crouched, facing the window with his feet on the sill. He slammed the inside sash down onto the sheet, leaving the knot inside. He looked toward the front and then the back as he prepared to rappel down the wall. Spotted a man with a gun come around the rear corner. Must have heard Weezy’s yelp. When he saw her he raised his weapon. His attention was fully on Weezy and he seemed unaware of Jack. And the way he was taking his time, he must have been sure she was unarmed.