Unfortunately, they were in Canada and the worst that could happen would be having the license plate recorded by the occupants of a police car who weren’t allowed to participate in a high speed chase lest someone get hurt. There were times, and this was one of them, when that whole peace, order, and good government thing totally sucked.

And if Mouse allowed himself to be pulled over? A massive fine, six points off his license, and no chance in hell any cop would believe Tony’s story. Amy hadn’t believed him and Amy was his friend. Of course, years of experience with cops meant he’d have no trouble coming up with the kind of commentary that’d get his ass hauled out of the car. Police brutality, use it wisely. Then Henry’d come bail him out and he’d be safe. His moment of hope faded when he realized Mouse—or rather the minion riding in Mouse—would never allow himself to be pulled over.

A sudden lane change—closer to a lateral movement than should have been possible in a thirty-year-old Ford—nearly threw the shadow off Tony’s lap. Without thinking, he caught it and scooped it back into place. It sloshed a bit and then settled, cool and weighted, against him.

His hand felt . . . soiled. He scrubbed it against the side of the seat.

“Stop that.”

“But . . .”

“Now.”

No mistaking the threat in Mouse’s low growl, but it almost wasn’t enough. Tony’d never wanted his hands clean quite so badly. And, once, way back, he’d held vomit. Someone else’s vomit. Sitting there, suddenly terrified, he understood why people took wire brushes to their own skin.

A little surprised that a kosher bakery hadn’t closed for the Sabbath—although there was no actual reason all the staff had to be Orthodox or even Jewish for that matter—Henry picked up Tony’s scent on the door. He wasn’t inside, he wasn’t anywhere in sight, and it was still almost raining in that ubiquitous West Coast more-than-a-mist not-quite-actual-drops way. It wouldn’t be easy to track him.

On the bright side, in this neighborhood at this time on a Friday, there weren’t a lot of people on the street.

Maybe he’d gone home with Zev.