Robby risked a look at Jim’s face; it didn’t tell her anything at all. Across from her Kelly had put down her book and was watching with what looked like dread but Robby suspected was really fascination.

“You know I wouldn’t do that, Sol,” Jim answered. He sounded a lot calmer than Robby felt; that was why, as they’d always agreed, he did the talking. “Why would I?”

“I trust you, you know that, but the count’s the count, and you’re short. Hey, maybe it’s just a simple mistake.” Sol leaned forward. His mustard yellow jacket gaped and showed the silver butt of a pistol. She’d been right, it was a flash gun. “I’m nothing if not fair, you know that. Just make up the difference, and we’ll call it even.”

Jim sat in silence for a few more seconds, staring at Sol, past him, then stood up and walked away to the bedroom. Robby forced herself to sip Sprite. The fizz tingled the back of her throat like a feather, and she had to fight an urge to sneeze. Maybe she was allergic to Sol.

Jim came back and handed Sol three hundred in cash that Robby knew he couldn’t really afford to lose. Sol smiled his shark-smile and stood up to wrap a too-friendly arm around Jim’s shoulders. Kelly’s face held a look of open relief. Robby felt muscles tighten in her stomach; Kelly had done the original count, after all, had handled the cash. Jim knew it, too. They were all capable of skimming, of course, any good dip was. The question was, which one of them would?

It wasn’t really much of a question, when it came right down to it.

“I love you like a brother,” Sol was saying, which really wasn’t a hell of a lot of comfort, since Sol’s brother had died of a .45 caliber brainstorm. “You’re a good guy, Jimbo, real good. Hey, you too, Robby. You guys working the hockey game this weekend?”

Robby nodded. Sol grinned.

“Yeah, well, make sure you stay away from my Uncle Frank, he’s got season tickets. See you on—” Sol checked a black Day Timer. “Tuesday. You guys, you bundle up, keep warm.”

Jim hustled him out into the warehouse. Blessedly, Kelly chose to go, too, eager to hang on Sol’s arm. Robby waited until Jim was back inside, until the door was safely closed, before going over and putting her arms around him. He felt like coiled wire.

“I told you he was a goddamn sonofabitch dago bastard,” she said. Jim’s arms wound around her. His hand cupped her hair.

“When you were in Ireland, was it this bad?”