"You didn't get yourself killed. I'm glad. That's a pleasure I reserve for myself. Tell your boyfriend."

But the threat hardly registers. My attention is diverted by the poster. Specifically, by number ten.

A woman with dark hair and hooded eyes.

The woman from Beso de la Muerte.

I DON'T WAIT FOR THE CALLER TO SAY ANYTHING else. The only response he gets to his threat is a curt, "Fuck you, Foley." I guess I should be happy that he's following me and not Max. Just shows how stupid he really is.

I snap shut my phone and look more closely at the picture of the woman I last saw arguing with Culebra.

She looks older in the photo than in person, probably because the lighting in booking isn't all that flattering. But the stats—height, weight, hair and eye color—are the same. She's wanted for attempted murder, aggravated assault and burglary. Considered to be armed. Last seen fleeing the scene of a crime in Lakeside. I grab a pen and jot down the name: Belinda Burke. Unassuming name for a witch.

I wonder if I have time to get to Williams and ask about her but before I can, David is crossing the lobby toward me. He's folding a piece of paper and slipping it into a jacket pocket. He's smiling.

"Time to party," he says. "I just called Gloria and she wants us to come to the new restaurant. She's having the chef prepare a celebratory meal. Kind of a dry run for the opening Saturday night."

For a moment, the witch, the call, everything fades with a rush of irritation. David doesn't get it. He thinks I was acting—really acting—on that sidewalk an hour or so ago just for Guzman's benefit. I fumble for a way to express vehemently enough how spending an evening with Gloria is not my idea of a celebration.

I don't get the chance. David has already turned away and started for the door.

I cast one last look at Belinda Burke. I'll ask Williams about her tomorrow morning when I see him at the park. He should know what she is.

It's not until I'm sitting in the Hummer nursing my irritation and planning how to make my escape once we're back at the office when the phone call pops again into my thoughts. How did Foley manage to follow us to Mission Valley? Could he have been waiting at the office instead of at my house? I'm damned sure he didn't follow me when I left Max. Or does he have some connection at SDPD who is feeding him information? Another question for Williams tomorrow. This time, the idiot actually threatened me. "What would be the purpose of that except to draw Max out to protect me? Another dumb mistake on Foley's part.

David keeps glancing my way. I feel it like the flutter of one of those irritating insects. I turn my head to look at him. "What?"

"You don't look very happy for a woman who just earned herself a shitload of money for a couple of hours work. What are you thinking about?"

I let my head fall back against the headrest. Should I tell David about Max? About the calls? If I'm being threatened, he really has a right to know. He's my partner and while it's unlikely I'll meet my immortal end at the hands of an unsuspecting human, David has no such protection. What if Foley makes good on his threat and David gets caught in the cross fire?

Still, I hesitate. If I tell David, he'll no doubt tell Gloria. It will be just one more weapon in her arsenal against me. No, before I say anything, David and I have to settle this Gloria thing. He's a good man but he has a blind spot where she is concerned.

I suck in a breath and plunge in. "I'm still pissed at you, David. You let Gloria interfere in our business. We've been together almost three years. We're good. Damn good. But every time I think things are going great, Gloria opens her mouth and you start questioning if I can do the job. Why? Have I ever let you down?"

I get it all out in a rush.

I should have taken my time. When after a minute he still hasn't responded, I prod him with an elbow in the ribs. "Did you hear me?"

David keeps his eyes on the road. "Yes."

"Yes? That's all you've got to say?"

He shrugs but the muscles are bunching at the base of his skull. His jaw is so tightly clenched, I actually see it tremble.

Finally, he says, "It's not your letting me down that bothers me."

He says it so quietly, I think I must have misunderstood. "What are you talking about?"

This time he takes his eyes off the road to look at me. "Maybe Gloria is right. Maybe we should take a break. Evaluate what we want to do before something bad happens again. Last summer I almost got you killed. I couldn't live with myself if it happened again."

My first inclination is to laugh. I did get killed, after all, but not in any way he can imagine. Instead I give rein to the second impulse. Anger.

"You son of a bitch. I got over it. Why can't you?"

Again, the aggravating hum of silence.

"Are you trying to piss me off? What do you want me to do? Make it easy for you and quit?"

I don't know why I said that, but once I did, the picture snaps into focus. I swivel toward him. "You want to dissolve our partnership? Because you're afraid I'll get hurt or because of Gloria?"

We're still on Broadway headed back toward the coast and David pulls the Hummer to a stop on the side of the road. His hands remain on the wheel and his eyes stare straight ahead, but he says quietly, "Not because of Gloria, exactly." He pauses, draws a deep breath. "I'm thinking of moving to Los Angeles."

Rage rises in my throat until I think it will choke me. I have to swallow hard a couple of times before I can get words out. "Los Angeles? Where Gloria lives and this has nothing to do with her? When did you decide this?" My voice is shaking.

His shoulders hunch. "It's not definite yet. It's something I've been thinking about for a while. You know it hasn't been the same for us since the attack. It's like we're going through the motions but we're not friends the way we used to be. We don't go out to eat anymore, we don't even work out together. You make excuses to avoid spending time with me except on the job. It's obvious you only think of me as a business partner and you can always find another one of those."

He runs out of breath and words at the same time. I'm too stunned to do anything but stare. Everything he said is true. There are reasons for all of it, of course. Hello. Vampire. But David doesn't know that. He doesn't know.

And I can't tell him.

He clears his throat as if to dispel the awkward silence, then forges ahead. "Once we collect for Guzman, you'll have plenty of money. You can find another partner if you want or go out on your own. You're so good at the business, you really don't need anyone else. Or you might think about becoming a cop. I'm sure your friend Williams would like that. I suspect that's why he spends so much time with you. And I'm sure Max wouldn't object. I never thought he liked the idea of what you do for a living. Too outside of the box."

I can't stand hearing another word. "David." I bark his name so loud, we both jump. "Will you please shut the fuck up?"

The afternoon sun has fallen low in the sky. The glare through the driver's side window makes it impossible for me to see David's face clearly. I'm overwhelmed with sadness and regret. Sadness because I don't know how to make this right and regret because I'm suddenly not sure I should try.

I grab my purse and reach for the door handle.

He turns in the seat. "What are you doing?"

But I've already opened the door and climbed out. I close it quietly behind me and walk away. I don't answer because I can't.