“I’m glad I know my renter,” Tom said lightly, turning left when the light changed.

Croft chuckled. “I guess so. Liza doesn’t seem the type to grow illegal weed.”

“I’d be shocked if she’s ever even tried it.”

Croft shot him an incredulous look. “Hunter. She was asking Irina for cannabis tea when we walked into the Sokolovs’ kitchen today.”

Oh. “That’s true, but I’m sure that was a onetime thing. Not that there would be anything wrong with her drinking Irina’s tea, especially now that she’s in between her job and school.”

“Or maybe you don’t know her as well as you think,” Croft suggested softly.

Tom’s head swiveled to stare at her. “What?”

“How long have you known her?”

He refocused on the road. “Seven years.”

“But most of that time she was in the military, wasn’t she?”

Tom shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. “We e-mailed and Skyped at least once a week, whenever she could get screen time.” Until I met Tory. Then he’d forgotten about their calls, too wrapped up in Tory to pay attention to anyone else. And after Tory had died, he’d been too wrapped up in his grief. He’d left Liza with no one to talk to. God, I’m an asshole.

Maybe that’s why she’s upset with me. She certainly has a right to be.

Croft sighed. “All I’m saying is that you seem convinced that you know her. Maybe she’s changed.” She shifted in her seat, seeming as uncomfortable with this tangent as Tom was. “Anyway, the gang was hurt in the raids, but not destroyed. The management structure has changed, though.”

Tom was simultaneously grateful to Croft for getting them back on track and tempted to ask her what she saw in Liza that had driven her comments. Something was wrong with his friend, but he was either too close or too thick to see what everyone else did.

“Changed how?” he asked, pushing worries about Liza aside for the moment. “Like an internal shake-up, or someone came in from the outside?”

“Both. The gang has become more local, with fewer international ties. The letters tattooed on DJ’s back are part of the original name. Now they call themselves the Chicos.”

“Meaning ‘boys’? They jumped languages?”

“No. It’s short for Chinese Cobras. I guess there were too many gangs called the Cobras, so they got creative. The ‘chai’ became ‘chee.’ It was probably easier for them to say.”

“Yeah. And because ‘chai-co’ sounds stupid.”

“Truth.” Croft smiled at the sight of two kids playing in a neighbor’s front yard. “This is a nice neighborhood.”

“It is. I see those kids sometimes when I jog. They’re very sweet. They did a lemonade stand last month to raise money for a sick classmate.”

Croft turned her smile his direction. “Did you buy any?”

“Of course.” He chuckled. “It was awful. They added ten times more sugar than they should have. But they looked so hopeful, so I drank it and bought more. Which I poured out as soon as I got around the corner. I was worried about a sugar coma, but Liza assured me I’d be fine.”