“Being in the military most certainly is something to be proud of.”

“It’s not what I’ve done when in service that I want to apologize for.” He took a deep breath. “It’s true that I’m a bodyguard. Of a very powerful male—man. An extremely powerful one who has many enemies.”

“That explains how you acted with the delivery guy.”

“It’s my nature. And my training. Sometimes . . .” He cleared his throat. “Sometimes both conspire to get the best of me.”

“And you really do live with him? That man you guard.”

“Yes, in his home, with his wife and his child. He has a number of personal guards and I am one of them.”

“Who is he?” She glanced over. “Unless you can’t tell me that?”

“I am paid to be discreet. I’m sorry. And I can’t take you to where I live for the same reason.” He looked at her pointedly. “But I’m not lying about this. I am telling you everything I can—and maybe, in the future? I might be able to tell you even more. Not the now, though.”

They continued on, going into the commercial part of town. No more mom-and-pop stores with homey themes best suited for Instagram snapshots and baby showers. Now there were tile stores, and carpet stores, and places that sold electronics, tires and cars.

“Is that why you’re downtown so much?” she asked. “Helping your boss.”

“A lot happens there. It’s a dangerous place.”

“True.” Jo glanced over, and in the light glowing from the dashboard, her face seemed reserved, but no longer angry. “That’s why you said what you did to me that first night, huh. About me being in danger. About me dying.”

“You need to be careful.”

“Women can take care of themselves.”

“They shouldn’t have to.”

“Which brings us to my next question.” She refocused on the road ahead, her ten-and-two grip on the wheel tightening. “What’s up with your wife.”

“I told you.” Syn shook his head. “I don’t have one.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That is the one thing you can be completely sure of,” he said bitterly. “You know that I have a problem when it comes to sex. What female would have me? I cannae get her pregnant.”

“There’s more to a relationship than having children.”

“Not for most females, and who can blame them. Besides, it’s never been a priority for me.”

“Sex?”

“Marriage.”

There was a long pause. “Were you injured?” she asked as they came up to another traffic light. “You know, while fighting overseas? Is that why you can’t . . . I mean, I’m no medical expert. I don’t know how these things happen or work.”

He recalled his first rutting. It had been with a female of the species who he had paid to allow him to take her vein. Evidently, she had found him attractive and had mounted him while he had been feeding from her. He could still picture her riding up and down on his hips, her stained peasant blouse open, her pendulous breasts swinging back and forth on her chest like saddlebags on a galloping horse.

It was common for males to become sexually aroused when they indulged their bloodlust. He’d learned this over time. But that did not mean they wanted to have sex. Or, in his case, when he’d lost his virginity, consented to the act. After it was all done, she had kissed him and dismounted with an air of satisfaction. Taking the money, she had left him on the cot, her juices drying on his hard cock, a dirty feeling staining the inside of his skin.

The sense that she had taken something from him had persisted for nights.

“It’s not an injury,” he said tightly. “It’s just the way it’s always been.”

“Have you been checked out by a doctor?”

“Sure,” he murmured so she’d stop asking questions on the topic.

“And there’s nothing they can do about it?”

“No.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Syn took a deep breath, and as he let it out, he hoped the exhale took some of the sting in his chest with it. “I don’t spend any time thinking about it.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

I’ve bonded with you, he thought to himself.

“So tell me about her,” Jo said softly. “And don’t deny she exists. I can see it in your face.”

“I’m looking away from you,” he pointed out as he deliberately focused on a Panera restaurant. Then a Ford dealership. Then a Sunoco gas station.

“Fine, I can hear it in your voice.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You are now. And I can tell.”

Syn was not about to go into the bonding thing with her. So in his head, he moved on to that female from the Old Country, picturing her front and center so that all other considerations were hidden—even though, as much as he had always been told, humans couldn’t read the thoughts of others.

So it wasn’t like Jo could get into his skull and see what he was skirting.

“That female was not meant for me,” he said. “So I don’t think I ever loved her in the way you mean. We were never together.”

“How did you know her?”

“She lived in the same village I did. Back . . . home. In the Old Country. I knew her because I was—” He swallowed. “Anyway.”

“What,” Jo said. “Please, just tell me. This is really helping.”

There were streetlights mounted up high on poles, and as they passed them by, the illumination came through the sunroof ’s transparent panel. As the gentle strobing bathed he and Jo to a slow beat, he found that he was glad they were in a car and she had to focus on the road ahead. On the other drivers out with them, though there were few. On the red lights and the intersections.

There was no way in hell he could have gotten through any of this if she’d been staring him in the face.

“I was poor,” he said. “Not the poor where you want things you can’t have. Not the poor where you’re bitter about what other people are doing or what they own. Poor like you don’t know if you’re going to be eating at nightfall. Like you aren’t sure whether there will be clothes for you to wear. Like if you get sick, you’re going to die and you’re okay with that because all you know is how hungry and thirsty and tired you are.”

“God, Syn—”

When she reached over and put her hand on the sleeve of his leather jacket, he moved away sharply. “No. I’m going to get through this once and then I’m never speaking of it to you again. And you’re not going to touch me when I’m talking.”

“But I feel bad—”

“I don’t care.” He looked over at her. “You want a pound of flesh, fine. I get it. Hell, it’s even a fair thing to ask. Do not pity me, though. You can fuck off with your sympathy. I’m not asking for it and I’m not interested in it. Are we clear?”

There was a brief pause. And then she nodded with a sadness that was palpable.

“Crystal clear,” she said quietly.

Inside the downtown garage bay, Butch paced back and forth across the space where Manny’s surgical RV chilled out when it wasn’t in use in the field, transporting someone to the clinic for treatment, or being worked on back at the training center.

He checked his watch. Paced some more.

The garage was a nifty bolt-hole on the edge of the field, and the two-story, steel-girded lockdown was stocked with all kinds of supplies: Medical crap. Mechanical crap. Food crap.

Crap, crap, crap—where the fuck was V?

Muttering to himself, Butch walked over to where he’d parked his roommate’s car off to one side, popped the trunk’s release, and went to the four rings on the hood. Lifting up the panel, he shrugged out of his suit jacket, took off his silk shirt, and put on his long-sleeved base layer. In the warmer months, he wore muscle shirts, but they were not there yet with the temperature. It was still cold as balls out there as far as he was concerned.

As he undid his belt and dropped his slacks to the tops of his loafers, he sensed he was no longer alone.

Kicking off his shoes, he said, “It’s for your own safety, and where the hell have you been.”

“I had to go back to the Pit for smokes. Something told me I’d need them.” There was a shcht as V lit up. “And that whole safety argument did not fly with you. What makes you think it’ll work on me?”

Butch stepped to the left and picked up his pants, folding them precisely down the creases and putting them with his good clothes, a sandwich of Armani. “Because you’re smarter than I am. Always have been—and if you try and deny this, I will remind you of alllll the times you’ve felt compelled to point the happy fact out.”

Grabbing his leathers, he pulled them into place, hopping on the balls of his feet to get them over his bare ass.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone, cop.”

“There are about twenty other people who can back me up.” He turned around and tucked in his shirt. Then buttoned things up down below. “There’s only one who can Simonize me.”

V exhaled a stream of smoke and leaned back against a counter that had a tool box and six silver jugs of Valvoline Full Synthetic Advanced 0W-20 motor oil on it.

“That metaphor doesn’t work. I’m not buffing and polishing you.”

“Oh, my God.” Butch clapped his hands. “This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Excuse me?”

“See? You’re smart enough to know about that metaphor thingy not working out. Therefore you are smarter than I am. Henceforth, the logic of you staying the fuck home is more immediately apparent to the likes of you because you’re a fucking brainiac.”

“FYI, you don’t get more points for your argument by tossing around ‘therefore’ and ‘henceforth.’”