Yet another dismissive shrug. “One sure way to guard my stuff, right? But Danny’s always been a trifle overzealous. What did you say your name was?”

I stared at her, inner hackles rising. So much bad news packed into one short remark. What was her beef with me? I’d acted according to program. She should be thanking me. Sure, it was her right to reclaim what she’d put into safekeeping, whatever was left. But the implication that Daniel hung around only to guard her stuff? That was personal, a skilled hit at my wavering self-confidence. Like, here’s this poised and well-groomed, obviously powerful woman—what could a brother of hers see in a garden-variety den rat? How could she know just how to swing at me, if Daniel hadn’t coached her?

On the other hand, maybe she was full of shit and would say anything to get what she wanted. I jacked myself upright. “Lizzy. My name is Lizzy.”

She frowned. Like she’d been told different and wondered what game I was playing. So, a few things brother D hadn’t passed along. At least, not yet.

“Well, Lizzy, you do agree you have some items belonging to me?”

She let the silence stretch out till it weighed a ton.

“Some.”

“The clothing and drugs got traded soon after, I’m guessing. Maybe even the pack. Could’ve come by earlier, but I needed my hands clean. Too bad. I liked that pack.”

“It was a nice one.” Emphasis on past tense. If she believed it gone, so be it.

“But since you kept the book, I presume you have the papers as well?”

“Why would you think that?” Daniel had seen the old book, but not the papers. After two weeks of carrying her stuff around 24/7, hard to let it go too easy. Even though she’d get what she wanted in the long run. “They didn’t seem like much, so I tossed them.”

Ha. Had her for a moment there. Almost.

She shifted, changed the cross of her legs, then smiled like she’d got me on the run. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t.”

“You’re right. Actually, I sold them.”

“No record of anyone trying to use them.”

My tongue was poking about against my teeth. Spunk or Rousseau always caught me in a lie, so maybe I wasn’t much good at it. Anyhow, why was I bothering? She was better at it, and what was I going to do with the stupid papers? “Okay. I got ’em.”

She leaned forward over her bent knees like she couldn’t quite hide her relief. That same flap of bright hair cascaded over her eyes and she shook it back abruptly. “So now we begin negotiations?”

“No.” I zipped open my belly pack, snatched out the string-bound packet and slapped it down on the bed. “Street rules. They’re yours.”

“Ah, the honor of the dens.”