It was a damn good question.

I plunked the helmet onto my head and buckled the straps under my chin. When Jim patted the seat behind where he was already perched, I gulped down a breath for courage and climbed on.

He didn’t have to tell me to wrap my arms around his waist. He didn’t have to tell me to hold on tight. I figured out the part about squeezing my knees against his thighs all on my own, too, and wondered if he knew that when he expertly threaded his way through traffic and we headed as far away from Arta as fast as we could, I slipped back into the dream I’d been having back in the alley.

The one that was all about warmth, security, and the all new but surprisingly not so bad combined sensations of speed, danger, and excitement.

BEING A DAREDEVIL TAKES YOU ONLY SO FAR. THEN reality closes in, and all the things that are really important in life push the speed, the danger, and the excitment into the background.

Things like how I hoped I didn’t leave any unwashed dishes in the sink.

And how I prayed that there weren’t magazines scattered around the living room.

And how I had to make sure that the bathroom was clean, because if Jim needed to use it and if there was a pair of panty hose hanging from the shower curtain rod, I’d die of embarrassment.

My hands were unsteady when I unlocked my apartment door, but a little thing like vertigo wasn’t going to stop me. When Jim pushed the door open, I strode in ahead of him and took a quick look around.

Magazines? Dirty dishes? Of course there weren’t any anywhere. I never would have left the apartment without everything being in place. At least, I hoped I wouldn’t have.

Of course, that didn’t explain why the books on the living room shelf looked as if they’d been shuffled around. Or why the china in my dining room buffet (it was a wedding gift from my parents, which is the only reason I didn’t let Peter get his grubby hands on it) was out of place.

Wasn’t it?

I shook my head, trying to line up my memories with the reality in front of my eyes. When that didn’t work, I decided the bump on my head was worse than I realized.

I’d obviously done some rearranging that morning and just didn’t remember.

With no time to worry about it, I darted (relatively speaking) into the bathroom. Just as I suspected, there was a pair of panty hose on the shower curtain rod, and I ripped them down.

“You’re not fussing about how things look, are you?” Jim was right behind me, just outside the bathroom door. I tucked the panty hose behind my back. “You’ve nearly broken your neck this evening. You’ve nearly been arrested. Something tells me you should have better things to worry about than panty hose.”

He was right, of course.

But that didn’t make me feel any more comfortable about airing my dirty linen. So to speak.

I ducked into the bedroom to deposit the pantyhose on my dresser. When I came out, Jim was still waiting in the hallway. I barely had time to get my bearings before he grabbed me by the arm and tugged me into the living room.

“Stop with the clean-freak routine, will you? You need to sit and rest,” he said. “Here.” He desposited me on the blessedly magazine-free couch. “Do you want a pillow? An aspirin? Cold water?” He leaned over and peered at my face, concern darkening his features.

I wasn’t used to being spoiled like this. It was certainly not something Peter had ever done. Not one to complain himself (except, apparently, to Dry Cleaning Girl, who I’d heard knew more about my shortcomings than I knew myself), he didn’t tolerate any show of weakness from others. Even if the weakness in question was something as mundane as a headache. Having someone worry about my welfare felt different. And good.

“Yes,” I said in answer to all of Jim’s questions. “Aspirin’s in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Cold water’s in the kitchen along with glasses. Pillow-”

“In your bedroom. Aye, I figured that part out,” he said. And right before he went in search of all those things, he smiled in a way that made me wonder if me and my bedroom were something Jim had spent some time thinking about.

I was still tingling at the prospect when he returned.

“There you go.” He propped the pillow behind me and nudged me back against it, handing me the water and the aspirin. “Not that I’m an expert, but you seem to be in good enough shape. I don’t think we need a visit to the ER, though if you’re feeling you need it…”

I shook my head.

“Very well then,” he said. “I imagine you’ll be as right as rain by morning.”

I had no doubt of it. I was already feeling better. Except…

“But I don’t understand.” It’s not a good idea to try and talk while gulping water and swallowing aspirin. I coughed and waited for everything to settle before I tried again. “What were you doing at Arta?”

Jim got a chair from the dining room and pulled it up next to me. He swung my legs onto the couch and grabbed the black-and-white granny square afghan (actually made by my granny) folded neatly on the back. He draped it over me.

I sank into the warmth of the couch and the afghan and of Jim’s concern. I might have kept on sinking and gone right back to sleep if he hadn’t spoken.

“I might ask you the same question,” he said. “Annie, you promised you were done investigating.”

I had promised. And no sooner had I made the promise than I broke it. It was bad enough I felt like a turkey. But what made it worse was that I didn’t want Jim to be disappointed in me.

Then again, maybe it was too late for that.

I shook away my stupor. For all Jim had done for me, the least I could do is offer some sort of explanation. The truth this time. Besides, I needed to start sorting the facts in my own mind. No better way to do that than to talk them through. “We decided to follow Beyla. After class. She went to Arta, Drago’s gallery. She was looking for something, and she found it, too. Only I couldn’t tell what it was. I think maybe it was a computer disc, because Yuri-”

Jim’s eyebrows rose.

“Yuri was Drago’s partner in the gallery,” I continued. “He’s been following Beyla, too. He thinks she’s guilty because Beyla, she stole money from the gallery and-”

Jim stopped me with a look. “How do you-”

“Know all this? Because I’ve been investigating, of course. And because Yuri told me. He suspected Beyla was stealing, and Drago was all set to confirm everything. Only Drago got killed. And Yuri, he thinks there’s a computer disc that proves everything. Because in spite of how much Beyla says she didn’t know Drago, she’s lying. Yuri thinks there’s a disc that proves it. Yuri thought Beyla already had the computer disc-at least that’s what he told me when I ran into him in Old Town Alexandria, when we went to visit Rainbow, the witch with the angels. Only she couldn’t have had the disc-Beyla, that is, not Rainbow-because if she did, she wouldn’t have been at the gallery looking for it, would she? Which she was, because she was checking out every little thing in the place. Obviously, she was looking for something, and like I said, I think she found whatever it was because I saw the way she smiled, and then I wanted to tell Eve about it and-” I dragged in a breath. “What happened to her, anyway? Where’s Eve?”

“Not to worry.” When the afghan fell off my shoulder, Jim gently put it back into place. “Eve is fine. She left when I arrived.”

It was an explanation of sorts. But not enough of one.

“But why-”

Jim stood up. “Is it true, do you suppose, what they say about a person in shock needing sugar? I’m going to get you something to eat.”

“But I’m not in shock.” I struggled to sit up; I would have done it, too, but for the flash of stars behind my eyelids. That, and Jim pushing me back against the pillow.