Jackie deserved everything coming her way, but Ted wasn’t going to lie to Jill. If she thought he was lying, he would lose her—and he wasn’t ready for that. Besides, Ted needed her.

“She’s in trouble,” he said. “I don’t think that’s any secret. If I don’t talk to the Judge, she will take the fall.”

He’d left out a few details, but everything he’d said was true.

“I’ll call you back.” She hung up.

Ted let out a long-held breath.

“Did she go for it?”

Lester’s face came into focus. Ted pushed away his coffee. It had grown cold and had been bitter to start with. “She’s calling him. We wait. You want a drink? I could use a shot of something.”

“I might need a pain pill later on. I’d better not start drinking.”

“I admire your restraint, but I want a jitters killer. What should I get?”

“You’re not a whiskey drinker,” Lester said.

His father drank scotch. The smell of it gave him a headache. “I stick to beer. Usually.”

“These aren’t usual times. Vodka. There’s no sense in wasting good bourbon if you don’t have the taste for it. Vodka’ll get the job done. See if they keep a bottle on ice. It’ll go down a lot easier.”

The lunch crowd had come and gone. Ted saluted Paulie McGirk in the mirror as he passed. Paulie’s eyes were open, but Ted wasn’t sure there were any functioning nerve cells behind those bloodred orbs.

Lili’s eyebrows shot up when he asked her for the shot, but she pulled a blue-labeled bottle of Smirnoff out of the ice and poured a hefty slug.

“You celebrate something?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” he said and returned to the booth.

He braced for the burn, but the cold liquid went down like silken ice. A warm glow spread out from his belly, reaching fingers, lips, and cheeks moments later.

“Oh, shit,” Ted said. “It works.”

“One billion satisfied customers,” Lester said.

“You want anything to eat?” Ted asked. He’d been too jittery to think about food before.

“Like maybe a smoothie?” Lester flashed a metal-crusted grin.

“Right. Sorry.”

Ted’s cell phone rang. Jill.

“What did he say?” he asked.

“I don’t feel good about this,” she said.

“Will he call me?”

“No. He said he won’t talk on the phone.” She sounded small and frightened.

Her paranoia must have been contagious—or the Judge already had a strong case of his own. “Okay. Thanks for trying.”

“But he’ll meet you.”

That was interesting, but now Ted’s own paranoia fluttered in his chest. All he said was “Ah.”

“What?” The single word exploded in his ear.