“You going to miss it when you move?”

“I’ll have the river to stare out at. And that house you and your boys are building is going to be spectacular. I like spectacular things.”

“That beer was probably the best one I’ve ever had.”

Vin focused on the guy’s reflection in the darkened glass. “Is Heron your real name?”

The guy smiled a little. “Of course it is.”

Vin glanced over his shoulder. “What other languages do you know aside from French?”

“Who says I know it?”

“The fact that you don’t have a clue about exotic beer makes me doubt you’re a foodie and into gourmet lingo. And Devina wouldn’t have translated amuse-bouche because it would be rude to think you didn’t know what it meant. Therefore, I assume you know the language.”

Heron drummed his fingers on his knee as he seemed to think things over. “Tell me what’s in that box you hid in the drawer and maybe I’ll answer you.”

“Anyone ever say they had to drag things out of you?”

“All the time.”

Figuring it was no real revelation—because, really, when was Heron going to have anything to do with Devina?—Vin got the Reinhardt box back out and popped the lid. As he turned the thing around so Heron could see what was in it, the guy let out a low whistle.

Vin just shrugged. “Like I said, I’m into beautiful things. I bought it last night.”

“Christ, what a sparkler. When you going to pop the Q?”

“Don’t know.”

“What are you waiting for?”

Vin snapped the box shut. “You’ve asked more than one question. My turn. French?

My turn. French? Oui ou non??”

“Je parle un peu. Et vous?”

Je peu. Et”

“I’ve done some real estate deals north of the border, so I speak it. Your accent is not Canadian, though. It’s European. How long were you in the military?”

“Who said I was?”

“Just a guess.”

“Maybe I went to college overseas.”

Vin regarded the guy steadily. “Not your style, I wouldn’t think. You don’t take orders well, and I can’t imagine you’d be content behind a school desk for four years.”

“Why would I go into the service if I don’t take orders?”

“Because they let you do something on your own.” Vin smiled as the guy’s face remained utterly closed. “They let you work by yourself, didn’t they, Jim. What else did they teach you?”

Silence expanded to fill not just the room, but the whole duplex.

“Jim, you do realize that the more you stay quiet, the more I make up my own mind about your military haircut and that tattoo on your back. I showed you what you wanted to see—seems only fair you return the favor. More to the point, those are the rules of the game.”