Back on the outside deck, Sam almost laughed. She didn’t think she’d ever seen two more miserable human beings in her life. The tattoo artist was singing and swaying from side to side. Sam decided he was as high as a kite from the looks of his glazed eyes. “Slick, fill the water pitcher. Mr. Donovan can use the same glass as Mr. Mateo. We aren’t going to worry about germs at this point.”

The women clustered around Donovan and stared down at him. It was a humiliating experience for anyone to find himself in.

Sam inched her foot close to Donovan. She looked down at him. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Bear in mind that we have your briefcase and your Blackberry. Mateo,” she said, jerking her head in the other direction, “says he works for you. Who do you work for?”

“It’s a chain of command,” Donovan said miserably.

“Names. Give me names. I want you to talk, and I don’t want you to hold anything back. The artist over there looks to me like he’s been sniffing something. I don’t know too much about tattoos, but I tend to think you’d need a steady hand especially, when working on a…delicate part of the anatomy. If you’re willing to take your chances, it’s okay with us. None of us have had a laugh for a while. Your call, Mr. Donovan.”

Slick held out the twelve-ounce glass of water. “Drink it all.” Donovan knocked the glass out of her hand. Olivia grabbed a hank of Donovan’s hair, jerking his head backward. Slick filled the glass again and handed it to him. “The next time it will be hot coffee.”

“What the hell do you want from me?” Donovan said, gagging as he struggled to drink all the water in the glass.

The tattoo artist was on the railing, his arms outstretched as he giggled and made faces at the two men. Mateo hid his face in the crook of his arm. Donovan turned as white as the shirt he was wearing.

Slick filled the glass with water. “Who do you work for? We want a name.”

“For Christ’s sake, Donovan, tell them. I quit, you bastard. You said this gig was a piece of cake. Does this look like frigging cake to you? Well, does it? You said they were just a bunch of stupid women. Washouts and wannabes, that’s what you said. You want to get your private parts tattooed, it’s fine with me. I just want out of here. I’m going to have to get surgery to have this ugly thing removed from my neck. If they don’t kill you, I will.”

“Shut up, Mateo,” Donovan snarled. Slick dumped the rest of the water from the pitcher over his head. He squealed like a scalded cat.