“Bill, I can explain,” Peri gushed as Rachel smeared Jack’s blood on the accelerator and dropped it into the wineglass. White wine tinted pink, and Rachel turned, eyes alight.

“I don’t think you can,” Bill said, and Peri gasped, seeing the Glock in Bill’s grip. It was pointed at her. “But you have three seconds to try.”

“Bill.” Peri looked at Rachel, knowing she wouldn’t leave without Jenks.

“One,” Bill intoned, the muzzle never wavering as he got to his feet, hunched like a bear.

“It’s not what it looks like. She said the accelerator was fake. I didn’t—”

“Two.” Bill checked the safety.

Holy shit, I think he’s going to shoot me, Peri thought, panicking.

“Bill, don’t!” Jack said, paralyzed by the bed, covered in blood from his broken nose. “She’ll never forget you shooting her. Even if she drafts.”

“You’re probably right,” Bill said, voice soft, and Peri exhaled. “Three.”

The bang of the Glock firing shocked through Peri, and she jumped, hand going to her chest. But he hadn’t shot her. He’d shot Rachel.

No, Peri thought, anger and fear flooding her.

“Oh, that hurts,” Rachel said softly, then started to collapse.

Peri lurched to catch her, somehow keeping the wineglass in her hand upright. The shot had been high, away from Rachel’s heart but nicking her lung. It was filling even as she sat there. Shock had paled Rachel’s face, making her lips red and her eyes eerily bright. No . . .

“I can’t believe you did that,” Jack said, wiping the blood from himself.

Bill shrugged. “I didn’t shoot you or her. I shot a mall fruitcake she’s known for three hours.” His smile at Peri was predatory, and the beginnings of hatred trickled through her, muddling years of trust. “Now. The question is, how important is she to you, Peri? Is saving her life worth your memory of her?”

“You sons of bitches,” Peri whispered, Rachel’s weight going heavy in her arms. She was nearing her forty-five-second ceiling. If she was going to draft to save Rachel’s life, she would have to do it now.

So she did.

The light spilling from the side lamp flashed blue, filling the room with a smoky haze that flashed to a sparkling clarity. No longer did Rachel hang in her arms. The woman straddled Bill, shock stiffening her shoulders. “I’ll take your gun this time, too,” Rachel said as she plucked first the orb from Bill’s pocket, then the Glock from his holster.

“You remember the first timeline?” Bill stammered, truly surprised, and Rachel beamed a big smile before slamming her elbow into his jaw.

“Rachel,” Peri prodded as she snatched up the glass of white wine. “We have to go.”

“Right.” She got up, kicking the large man in the ribs. “No one shoots me!” she shouted, kicking him again. “No one!”