Mac grunted. His squashed, toad-like face was nearly always twisted into an unpleasant, vaguely constipated expression but, just now, he seemed even more annoyed than usual. He’d probably expected her to cry or beg. It delighted her, that she hadn’t given him the pleasure.

“Donovan?” he grunted. “The bag.”

The bag? Dorothy felt her nerves tighten. Whatever the bag was, she knew that it couldn’t be good. She worked hard to keep the fear from her face as Donovan crossed the hotel room, hauling a duffel onto the hotel bed. Dorothy thought she saw the muscles in his shoulders stiffen as he unzipped the bag and stared down at what was inside.

When Donovan spoke again, his voice was choked. “Sir?”

“Leave it there for now.” Turning back to Dorothy, Mac said, “Believe me, princess, I want to use what’s in that bag.” His thick lips twisted. “In fact, I want to use it very much, but I figured I’d be all gentlemanlike and give you a chance to come clean first.” He paused, blinking, before adding, “Is there anything you’d like to share with the rest of the group?”

“Come clean?” She worked hard to keep her expression innocent. He must be talking about the exotic matter. His pilot must’ve returned once he’d discovered that it was missing.

There was no one holding her anymore, so Dorothy pushed herself to her feet and perched at the very edge of the hotel room bed, trying to look like she was preparing herself for nothing more than an unpleasant chat. The bag hovered at the edge of her vision, but she wouldn’t allow herself to look at it directly, she refused to give Mac that satisfaction.

It didn’t stop her from wondering what it might contain, though. Some arcane tool he was planning to use to torture her with, perhaps? Or . . .

No, it was almost certainly going to be the torture. Her throat felt suddenly tight.

To Mac, she said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I missed you all, and so I returned. It’s as simple as that.”

“I ain’t stupid, Fox,” Mac said.

“Obviously not,” she said, without conviction, letting her eyes travel around the room. Donovan and Eliza flanked the door, and she knew that another two guards stood on the other side. The only other way out was through the window. Which was possible, she knew from experience. But highly unpleasant.

She turned back to Mac and said, her smile tight, “Even so, I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mac studied her, mouth working like he was chewing on a piece of grass. After a long moment, he spat on the floor.

He said, “You really expect me to believe that the two of you aren’t working together?”