“He did. So? I’m on the street in front of the courthouse three or four days a week. I have an office in the rectory of the church three blocks from my apartment. I walk there every day. If someone wants to hurt me, they have plenty of opportunities. And my job is pissing off powerful people.”

“They’ve already come for Lester and for me. I don’t think you’re immune.”

“You’ve made your point,” she said. “But if I choose not to be afraid, I . . .”

“Your steaks.” The beer-keg waiter dropped the plates and backed away without serving the sides of potatoes or spinach.

She attacked her steak with knife and fork and popped a bite into her mouth. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes as she concentrated. The second martini arrived, and she swallowed half of it. Ted sipped the beer.

“You were talking about choice,” Ted ventured.

“I know it’s scary,” she said. “I feel it. But what am I going to do? People do scary shit all the time. I don’t jump out of airplanes, run into burning buildings, or ski down mountains at eighty miles an hour. Some people do. I stand up to powerful people. Sometimes I get arrested. More often I get pushed aside. But what I hate the most is when they ignore me.”

“Well, I don’t know who that guy was, but he is not ignoring you.”

“Exactly. I win.”

“I don’t want to see you hurt,” he said.

“And in an earlier century, that thought might have been very sweet.”

“They put Lester in the hospital.”

“My call, Ted.” She emphasized her words by jabbing her fork in his direction. “My call.”

“I think they killed Richie Rubiano.”

“And I don’t want you to order for me. Understood?”

“I think we’re talking a huge difference in magnitude here.”

“Actually, we’re not. I like you, Ted. I think we have some chemistry. I’d like to see how we are together. I’m intrigued.”

“You are?” Ted had never felt more out of his depth. He’d been sure he had been hitting all the wrong notes.

“Just don’t try and be my daddy. Please?”

“Are you saying you’d like to . . .” He slid to a halt, unsure how to finish the question.

“Maybe,” she said with a grin.

“Then I will squash all chivalric notions.”

“Get the check.” She dropped her fork onto the plate and swigged the remains of her drink. She waved a hand for a waiter. None were in sight.

Ted fished out a credit card and flashed it at a passing busboy.

“No crédito,” the kid said, not breaking stride.

“They’re leaving,” Kenzie said. “I want to follow Pak. Have you got cash?”