He was so close I could almost touch him. Not flirtatious, but I could see it now. I’d learned my lesson in the bar. He had Tana the ballbuster at home. It was the little crucifix-clutching virgin he was missing. I swear, up close his breath smelled like money.

“Please,” I whispered.

Carrigan drove a restored ’50 Plymouth De Luxe—“a present,” he’d said simply, when I’d admired it, and I guessed that meant a present from his wife—and we puttered along the freeway going about twelve miles per hour, but that was fine with me. I was happy for the time alone with him.

He’d wanted the full story once I was in the car. I told him an ex had been following me, someone I was scared of. That I was worried he’d be waiting for me and if Mitch would just drive me home and escort me to my front door, I’d be forever grateful. It was a story with so many holes in it, it could’ve been a cheese, but Carrigan bought it, or seemed to. I’d laid it on thick, telling him about calls in the middle of the night, hang-ups, that it was starting to drive me crazy, that I wasn’t sleeping. That, at least, wasn’t a lie.

By the time we got to Tarantula Gardens, he was starting to warm to me—trying to cheer me up by telling me about his campaign. Telling me Bogart was one of his favorites, too, and that it might be an obvious choice, but he preferred Casablanca to all other films. It was obvious. I didn’t say it.

As we pulled into the parking lot, I could feel my stomach tightening again, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking around, trying to find the unmarked that Lou had spotted earlier. I couldn’t see it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Or maybe I got lucky, and they went home.

“Do you see him?” Carrigan craned his neck to stare out the window. If I really was trying to avoid a jealous ex, he would be a terrible choice to keep me safe.

“I . . . I’m not sure.” I made my voice breathy, like I was trying not to cry.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your door.” He smiled at me, kindly, but kindliness was not the feeling I was looking to arouse in him tonight. As he navigated the boat of the car into a parking space practically a city block long, I slipped off Jackal’s bracelet and tucked it into the valley between the bucket seat and the door, somewhere not so obvious that the wife would notice it next time she went for a ride. I needed an excuse to see him again, not for Carrigan to be even warier of strange women.