No matching smile, no change in his eyes, nothing at all.

“Having some trouble?” he asked. Robby felt the hooker’s weight start to drag at her arm and held her up in a grip strong enough to leave bruises.

“Well … sir, it’s kind of embarrassing—” Robby tried a blush; that seemed to work better than the smile. She avoided his eyes and talked to his name tag, HARTZ. There was a thick fingerprint on its shiny gold surface. “Ah—my friend just had a few too many, officer. I’m walking her home.”

“What’s your friend’s name?” HARTZ asked. The name tag shifted, and she caught a glimpse of her own startled face, brown eyes wide and earnest. You’re trying too hard, she told herself. Relax.

What the hell was the hooker’s name? Silk?

“Velvet,” she heard herself say. “I’m sorry we were causing trouble, sir, but I’m just taking her one more block.”

The cop’s chest moved calmly, in and out. She risked a look at his face. He was bored. His eyes had already moved on, checking the street.

“One more block to where?”

“Home. Her home.”

God, now he’d ask her where home was, and she didn’t know, couldn’t even find anything that looked like a home. Stores. Parking lots. Warehouses. Oh, god, she couldn’t point out the warehouse, not to save her life. Panic tried to rise again; she fought it down and waited, waited. Please …

The next time she felt the cold touch of the cop’s gaze, she raised her chin and met it squarely.

“I’m very sorry for the trouble, officer,” she said. He had light blue eyes, tired, cool, suspicious. His smile was tight and unconvincing. He nodded and stepped back.

“Go on, ma’am.”

Robby tugged the hooker’s arm to get her moving, and they stumbled away. Behind her, she knew he was turning to track them.

Once she heard the door slam and the car pull away, she allowed herself one quiet whispered curse. It sounded shaky. She looked over at Velvet, who was pasty and wide-eyed and very, very quiet. The hooker concentrated on walking, one careful step after another.

Neither of them had anything to say.

“Wow!” The hooker’s voice echoed loudly in the silence. “Wow, big. Big. Really—big.”

On the whole, Robby had liked her better scared. She let go of the hooker’s arm and pulled the door shut behind her with a gritty scrape of rusted hinges. The little sunlight coming through the high dirty windows streaked over the floor, but kept most of the warehouse in shadow. It smelled dirty and stale.

“Why’re we here?” the hooker continued. She hugged her mink closer. “’S cold.”