“You think I’m going to get involved in that heart-to-heart women crap?” he said as he snuggled in behind my scarf. “Hell, no! Aw, she’s sweet! You sure we have to lock her in the trunk?”

When I’m done with her, she’s going to be more pissed than a cat in a well, I thought as I took a quick step back from her as she ordered. I was afraid if I got too close, I might catch whatever cheerful bug had infected her. It was too early to be that sickeningly bouncy, but I suppose if your job required you to dress as a professional distraction, a happy disposition might be an asset. Right now, she was making me ill on smile overload.

“Holy toad piss,” Jenks muttered. “This woman is even bouncier than you after you’ve got some, Rache.”

“Shut up, Jenks.”

“I haven’t seen you like that in . . . hell, how long has it been?”

“Shut up!” I muttered, tightening my scarf until he called uncle, laughing at me. It had been a while, and even worse, it had been with Pierce. Everyone I had sex with died. Except Marshal, and that had only been because he left in time.

Adrenaline hit me when Ms. Bouncy-Hair finished her transaction, catching my eye as she moved to the pickup counter. She must have heard me telling Jenks to shut up, but being the crazy woman would only help, and I gave her a neutral smile and hitched my shoulder bag higher. Sweet or not, she was our fast and dirty ticket into the museum and behind security doors. I hated locking people in their own trunks. Except for Francis. That had been fun.

I was still wearing my smile as I stepped up to the counter. “Ah, two grandes, black. A skinny chai tea tall, and a vanilla grande with a shot of pumpkin in it if you still have it.” I knew they did. The drinks I ordered were was the exact same ones Ms. Bouncy-Hair had ordered, right down to the size. “Oh, and can you put it all in a to-go bag? Thanks.”

“Got it,” the barista said, never looking up, never noticing it was a duplicate order. Junior would have, and I was glad he wasn’t here.

I handed the barista a bill to cover it, turning around to see the blue Mustang in the parking lot, the top still open to the sky. “Thank you,” I said around a yawn as he gave me my change. Eight? Was it really eight? Adrenaline or not, this was an insane time to be up. That was humanity’s problem right there. They were brain damaged from the early sun.

“Ah, Rache?” Jenks whispered, poking me in the neck, and I jumped, giving the barista a faint smile as I moved down.