“Teeth,” he’d said, when he caught Ash looking. “Murphy’s new whore has a temper on her.”

Dorothy, Ash had thought. He could easily picture her biting any man who tried to touch her without her permission.

According to bite-mark guy, Mac’s new whore had shown up in a seedier part of the city about a month ago, lost and alone but pretty as a picture. She wouldn’t tell anyone her real name, but Mac was calling her Hope, and, Hey, wasn’t that ironic? Get it? Because she didn’t have any hope left. Followed by a hearty laugh.

Ash had supplied the bite-mark guy with drinks and bowls of peanuts until he was reasonably sure he’d gotten the whole story.

And then he’d taken him out behind the bar and beaten the living crap out of him.

Because really.

Now Mac’s face broke into a crooked smile that showed off several rotting teeth. “Oh, we got a new girl all right, but she’s worth a bit more than fifty.” A pause, like he was considering something. “I suppose I could let her go for twice that—and that’s me being generous, mind, what with you a new customer and all.”

Ash had been expecting this. He dug around in his coat, pausing when he found the slim envelope he’d tucked inside the lining.

The envelope contained his savings. It came to about seventy-five dollars. Just five creased and greasy bills. It felt like nothing at all.

How was it that he was going to hand over this envelope and get a person in return?

Dorothy’s face flashed into his head just then. He saw her as she’d been in those last few moments before she’d climbed out of his ship and disappeared into the storm. Grease-smudged face. Frizzed hair.

In the space of seconds, his disgust was snatched away and replaced with hope. Let it be her, he prayed. Let it be this easy.

He placed the envelope onto the rickety table, fingers tingling as he moved his hand away.

Mac grabbed the money and greedily counted the bills. “This all seems to be in order.” He shoved the envelope down the back of his trousers and nodded at Chandra. “Come with me, doll.”

“She stays here,” Ash said too quickly.

Mac hesitated, eyebrows climbing his forehead. He looked suspicious for the first time since Ash walked in.

“Did I miss the part where you give orders in my club?” he asked in a careful voice.

Tread lightly, Ash thought, fear prickling up his spine. This wasn’t some fragile ego he was dealing with, not like the guy at the bar. Mac’s hatred was heartier than that.

Mac was a gasoline-soaked rag—a single match and he’d explode.

Ash weighed his words before saying, “I want to see the girl before I hand over the rest of the payment.”

Mac shrugged, all casual. But the suspicion didn’t leave his eyes. “If you like.”

He walked out of the room. Whistling.

Chandra kept her head bowed until the hideous toad man was gone. Then she straightened, tossing her dark hair over one shoulder. Her eyes blazed. “When do I get to shoot him?”