At the sound of a rustling, Isaac glanced over and found a paper bag being held out to him.

“It’s a turkey sandwich,” Jim said. “Mayo. Lettuce. Tomato. And a cookie. From DeLuca’s on the corner. I’ll even take a bite to prove I haven’t poisoned it.”

Jim shoved his hand into the bag, pulled a reveal on the sandwich, and peeled back the cellophane with one hand. Then he cranked his jaw around the thing, bit hard, and chewed with his mouth closed.

Which naturally caused Isaac’s gut to go two-year-old and start howling. “What kind of cookie.”

Jim talked around his mouthful. “Chocolate chip. No nuts. Fucking hate nuts in chocolate-chip cookies.”

“I’m much obliged,” Isaac said softly. Holding out his left palm, he took what was offered and ate with efficiency.

“Cookie?” Jim murmured.

It pained him to say it, but he had to: “You take a bite first. Please.”

That big mitt disappeared into the bag again and came out with something the size of a car wheel. Unwrap. Bite. Chew.

“Thank you kindly,” Isaac said as dessert changed hands.

“I have a bottle of water in my back pocket.” Jim took the thing out, made a show of cracking the lid, and grabbed a healthy swig.

Isaac leaned forward, and accepted the FIJI bottle. “You’ve saved me.”

“That’s the plan,” the guy muttered.

Inside the kitchen, Grier started to make dinner, and damn, she was vulnerable as hell over that cooktop—all the glass turned the room into a TV set that stayed tuned to the Childe Channel twenty-four/seven.

“I’m leaving her undefended if I take off.”

“You’re making her a target if you stay. You shouldn’t be here now. You shouldn’t have spent all day in that house across the street.”

Isaac looked over sharply. “How did you know?”

Jim just rolled his eyes. “Remember what I did for a living for over a decade? Look, be realistic. Let me watch over her once we get you settled.”

“FYI, I know you a little too well—so this Boy Scout routine’s kind of hard to buy.”

“You can choke on the shit as far as I care. Just take advantage of it—”

A cold breeze wafted in from an indiscernible direction . . . and Isaac felt a chill run up his spine that had nothing to do with air temperature and everything to do with instinct.

Beside him, Jim stiffened and looked around—

Two huge men came out of the shadows behind him.

Isaac was quick on the draw, palming his other gun and leveling a muzzle at each of them. But it turned out they were just Jim’s boys, the one who was pierced like a pincushion and the other who was the size of a mountain.

“We got company, my man,” Mr. Needle Fetish hissed to Jim. “Bad company. ETA about a minute and a half.”