There was the sound of someone landing on two feet, and Throe wrenched around. As Vishous stepped out of the darkness right behind the guy, Rhage laughed.

“You don’t like being sneaked up on, huh.” Rhage likewise left his cover, keeping his gun up and ready. “Imagine that. And why don’t you hold the fuck still while my brother searches you.”

Vishous pounded his way around Throe’s torso and down his legs, giving the guy’s crotch a good honk. As Throe’s high-pitched squeak drifted off, the brother stepped back, but kept his forty pointed at Mr. Neiman Marcus.

“So if you’re not with Xcor, what are you doing out here?” V demanded. “You’re wearing too much cologne and you’re unarmed.”

“I was hoping to run into one of you.”

“Surprise!” Rhage quipped. “Now what do you want.”

“Did you send Assail to check up on me—or is he acting independently?”

V laughed in a hard burst. “Say what?”

“I have perfect enunciation.” Throe glanced at V. “And you are no more than three feet from me. So one can assume you heard me well enough.”

As V bared his fangs, Rhage shook his head. “You might want to rethink the attitude. My brother’s looking like he wants to turn you into confetti.”

“Well?” Throe pressed. “Did you send him to seduce me? You’d have more luck with a female—not that you would find aught out from the effort. I am retired from all conflict.”

“You risked your life,” V said, “to send this message, true?”

“I thought it would mean more if it were in person.”

“You vastly overestimate your appeal. Or the significance of your sexual orientation.”

Rhage spoke up. “Why don’t you get the fuck out of here. I’d hate for a private citizen such as yourself to get injured out here in the field.”

“Real fucking pity.” V lifted his gun muzzle so it was on a line with the male’s head. “Tick tock.”

“Bye-bye, asshole.” Rhage made a little waving motion. “Have a nice life. Or not. Who gives a fuck.”

Throe shook his head. “You are wasting your time if you are looking into me.”

“I’ma count this down,” V said. “On the count of three, I shoot. Three.”

Throe was out of there just as V let off a round about two feet to the left of where the bastard had been standing.

“Shoot,” V remarked in a bored tone. “Missed.”

“Man, this is such a shitty part of town,” Rhage said as he went over to his brother. “You meet the worst kinds here.”

“So Assail is going above and beyond the call of duty. I’ll have to tip him—in his thong, evidently.”

Rhage nodded and then pointed to the blast spot on the asphalt. “I got a lesser, by the way.”

“Congratulations. You want another—”

“Why aren’t you looking me in the eye, V?”

“We’re in the middle of the field. I’m busy.”

“Uh-huh. Right.”

Vishous frowned, and still avoided him. But then in a low voice, the brother said, “I talked to Saxton for you.”

Rhage recoiled. “About Bitty?”

“Is that her name? Well, yeah. Anyway, I got the paperwork together. You don’t have to do anything with it, but it’s on your bureau in a folder. Later.”

Justlikethat, the brother dematerialized out of the alley, and Rhage knew better than to think that the pair of them would ever speak of it again. And man, that was so V—the SOB was capable of great kindness and empathy, but always at arm’s length, as if he were afraid of getting too entangled in emotion.

He was always there for the people he loved, though.

Always.

“Thank you, my brother,” Rhage said to the thin air where the male of worth had stood. “Thank you as ever.”

Taking a deep breath, Rhage told himself that he needed to chill. Just because V couldn’t find the uncle, and there was now a blank set of adoption forms waiting for him back home, didn’t mean that anything was going to happen with Bitty.

He hadn’t even talked to Mary yet.

And, hello, the girl had agreed only to go out for ice cream and then dinner with them. That didn’t mean she was even interested in having a new family or something.

He really needed to chill the fuck out.

Sitting beside her mother’s grave, Mary held her breath as she waited for Bitty to say something further. In the silence, the words the girl had spoken hung in the cold air between them.

My father used to hit me.

“It can be so hard to talk about things like that,” Mary murmured.

“Did your father ever . . .”

“No. Actually, I don’t even have any memories of him. He died when I was two in an accident. My mother was the only parent I had.”

“My mahmen was all I had, too. But sometimes I didn’t feel that close to her. It’s hard to explain.”

“There was a lot going on in your house.”

“I used to get him mad at me on purpose. Just so he wouldn’t . . . you know, go after her.” Bitty shrugged. “I was faster than he was. I had a better chance.”

Mary closed her eyes and kept her cursing to herself. “I’m very sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it really isn’t.”

“I’m cold,” Bitty said abruptly.

“Let’s go back to the car then.” Mary got to her feet, respecting the change in conversation. “I’ll turn the heat on.”

“Do you want to stay longer?”

“I can always come back.” She wanted to take the girl’s hand, but knew better. “And it is cold.”

Bitty nodded, and together they walked around the graves, the ground soft underfoot until they got to the lane. As they came up into the Volvo, the girl hesitated.

Mary glanced over as she opened the driver’s-side door. “Do you want me to take the long way back to Safe Place?”

“How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess.”

As they followed the main lane out to the iron gates of the cemetery, Bitty murmured, “I never knew Caldwell was so big.”

Mary nodded. “It’s a good-size city. Have you ever seen downtown?”

“Only in pictures. My father had a truck, but my mother wasn’t allowed to drive it. When we came to Havers that one time, she took it when he’d passed out. That was why . . . other things happened. You know, after we got back.”

“Yes.” Mary looked into the rearview. “I can imagine.”

“I would like to see it. The downtown.”

“Do you want to go now? It’s really pretty at night.”

“Can we?”

“You bet.”

At Pine Grove’s entrance, Mary hung a left, and headed across the ’burbs for the highway. As they passed neighborhoods full of human houses, most of which were dark, Bitty had her face pressed against the window—and then came the stand-alone shops, and farther on, strip malls that were nothing but glowing signs, empty parking lots, and closed-up spaces.

“This is the Northway.” Mary hit her directional signal. “It’ll take us through safely.”

Up the exit ramp. Into what little traffic there was at ten o’clock at night.

And then there it was on the horizon, like a different kind of sunrise, the city’s skyscrapers dotted with lights in random patterns.

“Oh, look at that.” Bitty sat forward. “The buildings are so tall. When mahmen took me over the river to the clinic, she made me hide under a blanket. I didn’t see anything.”

“How did . . .” Mary cleared her throat. “How did you get food? You lived in a pretty rural area—there wasn’t much within walking distance, was there?”

“Father would bring home what he wanted. We got what was left.”

“Have you ever, you know, been to a supermarket?”

“No?”

“Would you like to go to one? After we drive through here?”

“Oh, I would love to!”

Mary kept the speed at fifty-five as they went through the forest of buildings, the highway much like the lanes of the cemetery, fat curves bringing them close to the vertical stacks of countless offices before turning in another direction for yet another view of steel and glass.