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“God, you’re fucking cute. He beats the shit out of you, and this is what’s pissing you off.

Mark turns to me. “He hurt you? Jesus. I can’t fucking deal with this shit.” His face is terse and I see the warrior he hides under his nice guy exterior.

“As if we needed another reason to kill them,” Sal says. “Nice to see you’ve joined the murderous rage side, G-man.”

Sal sits down and somehow produces a cigar from nowhere and lights it, sitting back on a chaise lounge. “You know this is where Tabi and Bax boned while they hid from the world until his ex-witch of a fiancée threw them under the bus.”

Marks says, “When Shawna thrust them into the media spotlight, so to speak.”

I jump out of my chair. “Gross. Get off the furniture!”

Sal smiles at me, “I’m sure it’s been cleaned in the last couple of years.”

Mark swims to the side of the pool and gulps the remains of a fruity looking cocktail.

“What is that?” I ask.

“I don’t know but there’s like hundreds of those little cans of Dole Pineapple Juice in the pantry. I added a shit ton of rum and some and ice.” There’s a pitcher with condensation running down the sides. I sit down in a patio chair, not leaning back, and pour myself a glass.

“What’s it called?”

“The ‘Cady piece of shit where the fuck did Enzo go’ Tini.”

“I met him,” I blurt out as I sip the drink, and Mark looks like he’s going to come out of his skin.

“Cady? Pop, is he the one that hurt you? I thought you were talking about Enzo.”

“Cady.”

“Did you get confirmation?” Mark’s posture straightens. I slide him my phone.

“Lou.” Is all Sal says.

“Lou took this picture? Embedded or turncoat?” Mark pulls a t-shirt over his tight abs and sculpted, smooth torso. Attractive but I prefer a hairy broader kind of man.

“Embedded. Not sure his motive.”

Mark sends the stuff to himself. I sit back and sip the crazy cocktail he’s created. The sticky sweet taste of pineapple claws down my throat. It’s refreshing, but almost too much. I haven’t had pineapple juice in years and here it is twice in a couple of days.

Mark lifts his glass to Sal, “I’m happy you’re not dead. Again. I have calls to make and then we need to talk. I can’t tell you a lot of what’s happening because I’m not sure myself.”

“Fuck that. I’m going to shower and she’s going to scrub her face and get the day off of her.”

He nods. “Then we talk and I promise not to listen.”

Sal stands up laughing and places his cigar in an ashtray. I smack his biceps, avoiding his side that’s healing. I do want a shower and a bed. Sleeping in cars, planes and being sick with worry is something I don’t recommend. But right now seems like a pause in the action. Like we put a pin in at least our drama.

Mark’s still staring at my phone. Sal says, “What?”

“He’s short.”

“And I’d say angry about it.” Mark quirks an eyebrow and I lift my shirt to show him my back.

“Christ. Are you ok?” He’s up in an instant and lifting my shirt to get a better look. I ditched my bra at Walmart. I bought some stretchy tank tops because it hurts to wear one. Sal called it the upshot.

I nod. “For someone who was beaten with a belt, sure, I’m peachy. Where’s the whiskey? I’m done with sweet.” I turn to head inside, and they say nothing.

Chapter