“Tell me how that works out for you.” As I watched him study the house, I found myself wanting to touch him. Not from sexual attraction, although I knew at least one of us still felt it. This was an urge borne of homesickness. Seeing him made me feel as if I’d been on a long trip in a violent foreign country.

“Why did you kick him out?” I asked quietly, and his eyes darted sharply back to me.

“I didn’t kick him out. He left.”

“He said you kicked him out.”

“I reacted badly. There was some yelling. A lot of yelling. But I never told him to leave.” Nathan’s voice was thick with emotion. “And I damn sure wouldn’t have let him go if I knew he was coming here.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out that way. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.” But no matter what I said, it wouldn’t erase his regret. “He’s afraid you hate him.”

“That’s stupid of him!”

“Is it?” I planted my hands on my hips. “In case you didn’t notice, he was pretty embarrassed that you walked in on him like that. And all he got from you was judgment and the angry face!”

For a moment, it appeared my words had penetrated his thick skull. Then he shook his head, swore and took a step back. “Why am I even talking to you? I should be jabbing a stake through this fence right now, after you ran off like that.”

I’d almost forgotten my letter. “Ziggy gave you my message?”

“Yeah.” His voice was cold and impersonal.

“And?” I wrapped my fingers around the icy metal, hoping he’d touch my hand.

It was a foolish hope. “What the fuck do you want me to say, Carrie? You made your decision.”

“Then why are you talking to me?”

He clenched his fists around the bars and gave the gate a hard shove. Then he kicked it and swore again. I looked frantically toward the house, sure that at any moment I’d see guards streaming down the lawn. But Nathan continued to rage. With a final, violent kick to the stone wall, he spun away from me. I took that as my cue. “Are you finished?”

He limped back to the gate and nodded.

“Fine. Then why are you talking to me?” I phrased the question in a softer voice than I had before.

“Because you’re the only way I’m going to get Ziggy out of there alive.” When I didn’t respond, he reached into his back pocket. “Listen, I’ll cut you a deal—”

“I don’t need money,” I said quickly.

He gave me a melancholy smile. “Yeah, I see your boyfriend has a nice setup here.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I reached for the folded paper that he passed through the bars. “What’s this?”

“Information. I’m paying you for Ziggy. Do whatever you want with them.”

I scanned the paper. “Nathan, these are battle plans.”

“Do whatever you want with them,” he repeated. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t be here on the thirtieth.”