Under the right circumstances naked is fine—taking showers, making love, being born. Standing naked and dripping wet in front of Joe Morelli, who was completely clothed, was the stuff nightmares are made of.

I shut the water off and grabbed at a towel, but Morelli slapped my hand away and threw the towel onto the floor behind him.

"Give me that towel," I demanded.

"Not until we've gotten a few things straightened out."

As a kid, Morelli'd been out of control. I'd reached the conclusion that as an adult Morelli had control in spades. The Italian temper was clear in his eyes, but the amount of violence displayed was tightly calculated. He was wearing a black rain-drenched T-shirt and jeans. When he twisted toward the towel rack I could see the gun stuck into his jeans at the small of his back.

It wasn't difficult to envision Morelli killing, but I found myself agreeing with Ranger and Eddie Gazarra—couldn't see this grown-up Morelli being stupid and impulsive.

He had his hands on his hips. His hair was wet, curling on his forehead and over his ears. His mouth was hard and unsmiling. "Where's my distributor cap?"

When in doubt, always take the offensive. "If you don't get out of my bathroom this instant I'm going to start screaming."

"It's two o'clock in the morning, Stephanie. All your neighbors are sound asleep with their hearing aids on their nightstands. Scream away. No one's going to hear you."

I stood my ground and scowled at him. It was my best effort at defiance. I'd be damned if I was going to give him the satisfaction of looking vulnerable and embarrassed.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," he said. "Where's my distributor cap?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Listen, Cupcake, I'll tear this place apart if I have to."

"I don't have the cap. The cap isn't here. And I'm not your cupcake."

"Why me?" he asked. "What did I do to deserve this?"

I raised an eyebrow.

Morelli sighed. "Yeah," he said. "I know." He took my pocketbook from the counter, turned it upside down, and let the contents fall to the floor. He picked the cuffs out of the mess and took a step forward. "Give my your wrist."

"Pervert."

"You wish." He flicked the cuff out and clicked it onto my right wrist.

I yanked my right arm back hard and kicked at him, but it was difficult to maneuver in the tub. He sidestepped my kick and locked the remaining steel bracelet onto the shower curtain rod. I gasped and froze, unable to believe what had just happened.

Morelli stepped back and looked at me, doing a slow whole-body scan. "You want to tell me where the cap is?"

I was incapable of speech, bereft of bravado. I could feel the flush of apprehension and embarrassment staining my cheeks, constricting my throat.

"Wonderful," Morelli said. "Do the silent thing. You can hang there forever for all I care."