He glanced away. He needn’t have: a big tough guy admitting their feelings was okay by me. But maybe embarrassment wasn’t his reason.

“Just hurry up an’ get better, huh?” he said.

“I will.” Now I was the one who didn’t sound so enthusiastic.

The bullet wound was bad enough, but it was all tissue damage. That would heal soon enough, leaving nothing behind but another scar to match all the others. What had almost finished me was the jab of Rickard’s knife. He had nicked the femoral artery. Fortunately for me, the trauma caused by the bullet wound had already caused many of the blood vessels to contract so I hadn’t bled as profusely as I should have. Any other time I’d have died within minutes. Who’d ever guess I was happy to have been shot? My fall onto the roof had broken ribs, and also finished the job started in Colombia on my right hand. The ribs would heal by themselves, but my hand, broken in three places, might require some physiotherapy.

Harvey had gone home to Arkansas. I was sorry to have missed him, but he promised to come and visit soon.

“He’d better,” Rink said. “I think we owe him a drink after all this.”

“Maybe more than one.”

Rink brought me up to date on the entire Luke Rickard thing.

“Wetherby was behind it.”

“Should have known,” I said. “I never trusted that bastard.”

“Neither did Rickard. He killed him and two of his guys before going to the hospital.”

I frowned. “Saves us the trouble, I suppose.”

Rink was silent for a short time, as though weighing my words. Finally he just nodded. “Wetherby hated you. When he heard that someone down in Colombia was trying to locate the members of a CIA hit team he jumped at the chance to set you up. Apparently, after your original falling out he’d dug into your background and discovered that you worked on the team with Bryce Lang. Guess he thought all his Christmases had come at once. He contacted this Gutierrez and promised him the best man for the job. Enter Luke Rickard. Pity Rickard was a woman-hating asshole, or maybe he’d have won. He let his personal agenda direct him.”

“We both made a mistake in not taking the shot when we had the chance. Me when I failed to shoot Jesus Abadia, Rickard when he killed the two cops and let me live.”

Rink sighed. “You know, Rickard thought that Alisha was working with Jimena and Wetherby. He thought she set him up to die. How fucked up is that?”

I remembered Alisha’s kiss on my forehead. Maybe she did want him dead, but she’d had nothing to do with any of that. “She’s safe from him now.”

“Good job, Hunter.”

“Yeah. Good job.”