“Heard what you said.” And he wished like hell someone hadn’t shot those two idiots. Getting into a fistfight was one thing. Being implicated in a shooting was another entirely. He was confident enough in his false identity on a local level—after all, it had been created by the U.S. government. But what he didn’t need was his old bosses up in his face again, and getting flagged for murder by the CPD was going to pop him onto their radar immediately.

“I’d like to keep this as quiet as possible,” he said, closing the refrigerator door.

“Myself as well, but if that club’s owner wants to find me, he can.”

That was right; Vin had given the prostitute they’d rescued his card. Assuming the black duffel had been hers, and she didn’t toss the info, the link was there.

Vin leaned down and gave Dog a scratch behind the ears. “I doubt we’re going to be able to keep totally out of this. I have excellent lawyers, though.”

“I bet.” Crap, Jim thought. He couldn’t just bolt out of town—not with Vin’s future hanging in the balance here in Caldwell.

Well, wasn’t this complication just what the situation needed.

Jim nodded at his open bathroom. “Listen, I’d better get showered and go to work. The guy whose house I’m building can be an asshole.”

Vin looked up with a half smile. “Funny, I feel the same way about my boss—except I work for myself.”

“Least you’re self-aware.”

“More so than you. It’s Saturday. So you don’t have to go to the site.”

Saturday. Damn, he’d forgotten what day of the week it was. “I hate the weekends,” he muttered.

“Me, too—so I work my way through them.” Vin glanced around and focused on the two laundry piles. “You could always neaten this place up.”

“Why bother? The one on the left is the clean, the right is dirty.”

“Then you should do your laundry, ’cuz there’s a mountain-molehill thing going on that doesn’t bode well for fresh socks.”

Jim picked up the pair of jeans he’d had on the night before and tossed them onto the “mountain” of dirties.

“Hey, something dropped….” Vin bent down and picked up the little gold earring that had been in the front pocket since Thursday night. “Where did you get this?”

“In the alley behind the Iron Mask. It was on the ground.”

Vin’s eyes locked on the thing like it was worth more than the two bucks it had probably cost to make and the fifteen it had cost to buy. “Mind if I keep it?”

“Not at all.” Jim hesitated. “Was Devina home? When you got back?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you work things out?”

“Guess so.” The guy disappeared the gold hoop into his breast pocket. “You know, I saw you handle that kid last night.”