Chapter 9

“Thanks, Quinn. You’ve got magic fingers, you know that?” I opened an eye and watched as he wiped his palms on a tissue, then rolled down his sleeves and fastened the cuffs. “Fuck. I have to get up and lock the door behind you.”

“That’s the price one pays for paranoia.” He opened a drawer, took out a pair of shorts, and handed them to me.

“That’s the price one pays to stay alive.” I eased them on and stood up, relieved to find most of the soreness gone.

“I was kidding, Mark.”

“Right. I knew that.” I grinned to show I was kidding him back, but his eyes told me I hadn’t convinced him. I followed him out of the bedroom.

“Give me a call when you know what your schedule is like.” He draped his riding jacket over his arm, waited for me to unfasten all the locks, and then reached for the doorknob.