I bit my bottom lip, swollen from Lou’s kisses, and treaded water. Lou was shriveling against the side of the pool with every passing second, staring at me in horror.

“I don’t know what I was saying,” I said, trying to backpedal. I’d jumped the gun—I hadn’t meant to say anything, certainly not yet, not until I had it figured out. Not until I could come to Lou with a plan, with the money. I hadn’t even realized I’d made the decision until the words came out of my mouth. “I didn’t mean it.”

Lou didn’t say anything, just turned her back on me and started to haul herself out of the pool. She bent over and grabbed the towel, refusing to look at me.

“Lou, I’m sorry, I swear I won’t—”

“No,” she said, turning to me finally, eyes blazing, her wet T-shirt clinging to every curve and dip of her. “You won’t. You won’t say anything to anyone. Or else you’ll be sorry.” She grabbed my towel and the bottle of champagne, the rusty door separating the pool from the street clanging behind her, and she was gone before I could even ask her what she meant.

Lou had told me once what she owed the Lady—that she’d been the one who’d plucked Lou from the streets, from bad men who liked to hurt her. Sometimes for money, sometimes for love. There was no way Lou would leave the Lady on her own.

Unless.

Unless the choice was taken out of her hands. Unless the Lady was already fingered by the police, with Ellen’s and Klein’s murders laid at her feet—as they should be. I’d only done what I had to do—what Lou had told me we had to do.

It was all so clear now. Lou believed the Lady was the one keeping her from harm, but she hadn’t yet realized what Carrigan had taught me: there was no reason we needed the Lady anymore. And she was too dangerous now, too powerful. I just had to explain it to Lou. Lou was a survivor, smart enough to read the changes in the wind.

If the choice was taken out of her hands. If I had a way out. If I had a plan—for us both.