Wolfe blew out air to keep calm. “Why don’t you stop being a coward and just meet me? The two of us? Get it over with.”

“You and me to the death? You want to beat me until I stop breathing?” Gary almost sounded amused.

“Yeah.”

“What if we kill each other?”

Wolfe rolled his neck. “Okay.” He’d figured that would be the result, anyway.

“I guess I haven’t taught you everything, then.” For a moment, there was a heavy silence on the line. “Death is easy. Living can be hell. The game is on.” He disengaged the call.

Wolfe inhaled and lifted his head. “Finally,” he muttered, sliding the phone back into the drawer. He glanced toward the closed bedroom door. If Gary didn’t know where he was, Gary couldn’t have been the one who’d killed Clarke Wellson/Albert Nelson, unless Gary was just messing with his head. Wolfe should just think about the dead guy as Albert from now on. Wolfe had been involved in other missions that might have made him enemies, so he wasn’t positive yet that the guys in that black truck were involved in the Albert Nelson case. It was more likely that Dana’s story had prompted the bullets, so he needed to take care of the threat to her and then get her safely out of his life.

Gary was coming. Finally.

Now what? It wasn’t as if Wolfe could sleep, especially now. He moved to the fridge again and then caught sight of Mal out on his back porch through the window. Wolfe instantly pivoted and headed out his glass sliding door, punching in the alarm code as he went. The two homes shared a fenced backyard, and that suited him just fine. He strode across the grass and dropped into a cushioned chair next to Mal, who flipped on the fire in a new patio table.

“Nice,” Wolfe murmured, kicking his feet out.

“Pippa bought it yesterday,” Mal said, handing over a glass of whiskey and keeping one for himself. It was summer in Cottage Grove, but nighttime got chilly once in a while, which made for good sleeping if one slept.

Wolfe took the heavy crystal and inhaled deeply. Ah. The good stuff. “Is Pippa asleep?”

“Yep. It’s three in the morning. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Why aren’t you?” Wolfe returned. Neither one of them slept much, so why dick around about it?

Mal silently contemplated the flames for several moments. “You seemed more jazzed than usual. What’s up?” When Wolfe didn’t answer, he grinned. “Ah. Pretty girl in your bed and you’re here with me. No wonder.”

Wolfe let him think what he wanted. No way was he telling Mal about Gary Rockcliff. “I need a favor.”

“Okay.”