I held my breath underwater as long as I could, feeling the water break around me, slosh against the sides of the pool and back again. I opened my eyes underwater, liking the sting of the thickly chlorinated water, and I made for the outline of Lou’s pale toes, grabbing her feet, which kicked and jerked, as I surfaced.

“Don’t,” Lou warned, her face even paler. She’d dug her nails into the grout around the edge of the pool like that would save her if I tugged her in. I let go of her foot, treading water on my own, and she visibly relaxed.

“If she didn’t want either Jackal or me to know who she was—if anonymity was so important to her,” I said, watching Lou’s face, “why did she stop by the office? Why risk it?”

Lou shook her head. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Please don’t ask me again. Please, Jo. We’re so close. It’s almost over. Then we can go back to the way that everything was.”

Her eyes were big and pleading, and she even leaned closer to me, closer to the water.

But it would never be over, I thought, not for me. There wouldn’t be a night I wouldn’t see Ellen’s face before I went to sleep. That was a given.

And going back to a normal where Lou went home with bartenders but came to me for a midnight chat when she needed to feel like her real self again wasn’t going to work, either.

I put my hands, wet, on either side of her legs, soaking her jeans, and when Lou looked down to see what I was doing, I pulled myself close to her so we were almost touching but not quite.

“No more bartenders,” I said quietly. Lou’s mouth twitched. I took a deep breath; then I pressed myself up until we were nose to nose, my wet legs against her jeans, my mouth hovering only a few inches from her. I remembered the feel of her mouth on mine at the Olvera Street bar, and I remembered Carrigan, having to push him into wanting me, having to pretend to be someone soft and pliant. I was so sick of pretending I didn’t want the things I wanted.

So I kissed her.

My mouth must have been salty from the chlorine, and Lou’s breath was a little sour from the champagne. When Jackal kissed me, he was all tongue—penetration always. Lou’s kisses were softer, breathier, and she was holding herself very still. One slight push from her and I would’ve fallen back into the pool. Instead, she sat there still as a stone, and let me kiss her.