The dog leaped off the counter and headed for the bedroom, pausing at the doorway to look over his shoulder with an “Are you coming?” expression.

Shaking her head at how bizarre life had become, she stepped over the wet area on the floor to help a dog try on her shoes.

* * *

At first appearance, Deoch looked like any old-time neighborhood bar with worn wood, weathered sign, and faded paint. On closer scrutiny, the door was made of heavy, impenetrable steel, and the cameras covering the area were high-end and well protected. Raider let rain slide off his leather jacket as he shoved open the heavy door and strode inside.

A long oak bar with gold railing covered the entire right side of the establishment, with bottles of liquor neatly placed on glass shelves in front of mirrors. Black bar stools spanned the entire length, and four men sat at various points along the way. Tables had been arranged in a grid pattern, with a couple of pool tables and dartboards placed at the far end. Atmospheric music played from invisible speakers, the floor was heavy wood, and the walls a mint green color. The place smelled of cleanser and booze in a comfortable combination.

The bartender, a giant of a man with a bald head and gold hoop earring, took one look at Raider and reached beneath the counter. Hopefully to push a button and not grab a shotgun. Then he strode around the bar and gestured for Raider to lift his arms.

It was the most thorough search Raider had ever endured. Finally, the guy straightened up and moved back behind the bar. “I think you owe me dinner now,” Raider called after him. “And maybe a yacht.”

A door at the far end of the bar opened, and Eddie Coonan motioned Raider forward.

Raider avoided the deep breath he needed to take, striding toward the mob boss. The four guys at the counter didn’t turn, but the bartender watched him with no expression on his boulder-sized face. As a deterrent in the bar, that guy was better than any baseball bat or shotgun.

“Welcome,” Eddie said, looking Raider up and down. “Getting blown up doesn’t seem to have hurt you.”

Raider forced a grin. “We jumped out. The swim was more of a pain than the missile.” He frowned. “Where’d you get missiles, anyway?”

“I’m a man of many secrets,” Eddie said, moving aside. “Why don’t you come on back?”

Well. This was either going to be a smooth plan or a very painful disaster. Raider walked beyond the fortified door, surprised to see an ordinary-looking back room with a round poker table in the middle, just like old times when there would be secret poker parties for big money. He paused and looked back at Eddie as he closed the door. “You still play poker?”

“Yep.” Eddie secured three locks and then punched in numbers on a keypad. “You play?”