"J.T.?" Lucy's voice cut through the stillness.

This was why they'd used hand and arm signals on his old team and nobody had spoken when they were tactical. "It's all right." He opened the metal box between the seats and took out a Beretta 9-mm pistol in a well-worn leather holster. He pulled the gun out of the holster, checked the magazine, chambered a round, then nipped the gun and held it by the barrel, the grip toward Lucy. "Here."

She looked at him as if he were nuts. "This is your version of 'It's all right'?"

"Just in case," he said, extending the gun farther.

She took it reluctantly. "I thought you weren't going to give up your gun to anyone else again?"

Women and their memories. Never cut a guy any slack about the past. "It's my backup gun. You can have my primary if you want. Anything for you."

"That's really sweet, J.T." Lucy looked at the gun as if it were going to bite her. "Next time, try jewelry."

"Safety is on," Wilder said, pointing. "Flip it and then pull the trigger. There is a round in the chamber, so be careful. You have fifteen bullets."

"And double-tap, right?"

So she had been listening. "Yep." He took the gun back, slid it into the holster, then gave it back to her. "Loop your belt through this. Strong hand side."

As Lucy armed herself with no enthusiasm, he put the Jeep in gear and drove. He felt like he was back in Iraq, waiting for a roadside bomb to go off. But Finnegan wouldn't do that. He needed Lucy. He wanted this meeting to convince her to go with the stunt and they had already decided to go with the stunt, so everything was going to be fine. Right, Wilder thought to himself. Lucy lifted her shirt over the holster, hiding it from sight, but there was a distinctive bulge. "Don't take the gun out unless you mean to shoot and don't shoot unless you mean to kill."

"That will be never."

Her face was tense and he felt bad. The only sound was the tires' crunch on the gravel. The road went into a patch of trees, and Wilder used one hand to pull out his Glock and place it between his legs, at the ready.

Lucy drew back a little. "Should I do that? I am not going to shoot anybody but should-"

Wilder shook his head. "You're the backup. Finnegan will expect me to be packing. You, he'll wonder about."

"I'm wondering about me too," Lucy said. "Two days ago I was making a movie, then I hooked up with you, and now I'm carrying a gun to meet an international thief."

"Yeah, sorry," Wilder said but she kept going.

"You know, when I thought about us together, I figured I'd probably have to jump out of a plane for our anniversary or something, but I never thought the first thing you gave me would have a safety."

That's good, Wilder thought. She's making jokes. He stole a glance at her. He thought they were jokes. "My life has never been dull."

Lucy gave him a look. "How about we compromise from now on and go for 'not facing death daily'?"

They cleared the patch of trees and saw two hundred yards of straight road through the swamp before the next stand of foliage. The old oak trees they were approaching were so large that the gravel road was a pathway into a green tunnel. They entered and Wilder rolled the Jeep to a stop because there was Finnegan, sitting on the hood of a maroon Jaguar, wearing a loud blue Hawaiian shirt under an expensive-looking jacket and smoking a large cigar. A cane with a silver tip and a silver handle shaped like a stallion's head was within his reach. He looked like a rich, badly dressed Jolly St. Nick. An asshole, Wilder instinctively felt.

The sign behind Finnegan's car where the forest met the swamp read, it is a violation of state amp; federal law to feed or harass alligators. Too bad. Finnegan looked big enough to keep a couple of them stocked for the winter.

Lucy got out of the car and went toward him.

"You're even more beautiful than your picture," Finnegan said to her, grabbing his cane in his left hand and leaning on it as he slid off the hood of his car. He switched his cigar to his cane hand and extended his right hand toward her, but Wilder noticed that the Irishman's clear blue eyes were on him.

Lucy did not take his hand. "You wanted to meet me?"

"Ah, Lucy, my darlin'," Finnegan said with a heavy brogue, which Wilder also figured was bullshit.

"You've been threatening me for two days," Lucy said. "Don't call me darling."

Wilder scanned the area, but there was no obvious security, even though he was sure Finnegan was not out here on his own. He slid his Glock back into the holster and got out of the Jeep.

"Oh, darlin', that's how business is." Finnegan shifted the cigar to his right hand again and gestured toward Wilder. "And who might this strapping lad be?"

"My friend," Lucy said. "Captain Wilder."

"Captain Wilder." Finnegan didn't bother to extend his hand toward Wilder. "I've heard of you." He drew hard on his cigar and looked back at Lucy. "And why do we need a captain of the Army here at a nice civilized meeting?"

" This isn't civilized," Lucy said, her eyes steady on him.

"Your 'friend,' eh?" Finnegan put just the right spin on the word to let them know he knew what their relationship was. "And poor Connor? Is he not your 'friend'?"

"No." Lucy looked annoyed, which was better than afraid, but not by much, Wilder thought. "Mr. Finnegan, people on my movie are getting hurt."

"Unfortunate," Finnegan said affably. "But accidents will happen. Nothing to do with me."

Lucy drew in her breath, and Wilder knew she was going to blow. He walked past Finnegan and checked out the car. "Nice wheels."

"You admire a fine automobile, Captain Wilder?" Finnegan said, turning away from Lucy as if she didn't matter.

"No. But since you want to talk bullshit, I thought I'd join in."

Finnegan nodded. "Ah, a man who likes to get to business quickly." He turned back to Lucy. "This really isn't negotiable, Lucy. We have a contract."

Lucy shook her head. "Oh, no. You-"

Wilder moved next to her, trying to draw Finnegan's attention. "Why are you so concerned about this movie being finished?"

"I want to see my name on a movie screen." Finnegan shrugged, tapping cigar ash on the ground. "Glory, if you will. An old man's whimsy.'

"No," Lucy said.

Women. Wilder kept his face impassive.

"Lass-"

Lucy rolled over him. "The last time we did a stunt, we had injuries. We almost lost our lead actor. And now somebody's in the hospital."

Finnegan smiled at her over his cigar. "Lucy darling, I cannot be held accountable for someone falling asleep at the wheel. That happens every day."

"Not to people on my crew. Not like this. Nor do I have meetings in swamps every day." She shook her head, furious. "This is ridiculous. I-"

"We'd like a guarantee," Wilder said, his hand in his pocket, palming the bug Crawford had given him. "Nobody else gets hurt. Whatever it is that you're doing, you do away from the cast and crew."

He smiled, which made Finnegan pull back a little. Now all he had to do was figure out how to plant it on Finnegan. It didn't look like they were going to be hugging when they split, and pointing at the sky and saying, Look, Halley's Comet! didn't appear to be a good move, either.

Finnegan nodded, leaning forward, one hand on the silver handle of his cane. "Just finish the movie and all will be well. I'll throw in a one-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus for you, deposited right after you finish filming tonight."

While you're flying away? Wilder glanced at Lucy, hoping she kept her cool.

She looked enraged. "You think I'll risk my people for money?"

She was practically spitting, so Wilder figured it was time for a little interference for his wingwoman. "You keep the action away from the civilians, and the movie will be done tonight."

"The hell it will," Lucy said, turning on him. "I decide-"

Finnegan's eyes narrowed as he pointed his cigar at her. "I decide. It's my movie, lass. My money. My movie."

Wilder noticed that the brogue faded with the rise in anger.

"Then you film it tonight," Lucy said.

Finnegan swung his cane up and shoved the tip at Lucy. "You do what I tell you-"

Thank you. Wilder snatched the cane, palmed the end of it, and then twirled it and put the point on Finnegan's throat. "Talk nice to the lady. Or else."

Finnegan froze, his eyes small and hard. "Are you threatening me? Boyo, you have no idea who you are messing with."

Wilder nodded. Then he reversed the cane and offered the handle to Finnegan. "Sorry. Just concerned for the lady's welfare."

"I'm still here," Lucy said, her eyes flat on Finnegan. "And I can take care of myself. This is ridiculous."

Then do what we talked about and agree to finish the damn movie, Wilder thought as Finnegan took his cane back.

"The movie will be done tonight," Wilder said once more, with a glance at Lucy. Her face was flushed with anger.

Lucy looked furious. "I do n-"

Wilder put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. "Lucy knows I'll be keeping an eye on everybody's safety, and now with your guarantee, she'll finish the shoot. Right, Lucy?"

The silence stretched out, and then she nodded once, sharply.

"So there is no problem," Wilder said. Except that I have to face this woman alone in a minute.

Finnegan looked back and forth between the two of them, then he slowly nodded also. "Very good."

Wilder stepped away from Lucy. "Time to go."

When she didn't move, he tapped her arm, and she pivoted and stalked back to the Jeep. Fortunately, it didn't have a door for her to slam. Wilder nodded at Finnegan before getting into the driver's seat. He carefully drove around the Jaguar and then accelerated away, looping around toward the exit gate.

"What part of 'follow my lead' didn't you get?" Wilder asked Lucy.

Lucy turned eyes like razors on him. "The part where you suck up to the bad guy, boss me around, and put my team in danger.' She was so mad, she practically bounced in the seat. "You saw him, J.T. He doesn't give a damn about anybody; he'd blow up the whole set if it'd get him what he wanted. That son of a bitch is a lying, thieving bastard, and you're flipping his cane around like a majorette on speed and then giving it back to him like-"

"Hey." Wilder held up the small tracker Crawford had given him.

"What's that?"

"A tracker. Homes in on a small transmitter-a bug. That I just planted on Finnegan."

Lucy blinked. "When did you do that?

"Just now. On his cane. Under the horse's head."

"Oh." Lucy's face eased. "Oh. That was pretty good." She looked over at him. "You think he's going to keep his word?"

"I think so," Wilder said. "It gets him nowhere to hurt people on the movie, Lucy. He just wants his helicopter so he can do what he needs to do."

"Which is?" Lucy said.

"Meet Letsky somewhere with the damn art."

Lucy took a deep breath. "All right. All right then."

"Plus, LaFavre will back me up if I need him."

"That hound?"

"He's the best at what he does," Wilder said. "We've been in some rough places together and we're both still breathing and have all our working parts because we have each other's backs."

Lucy considered that. "Okay. So now you tell me what the plan is for tonight. You do have a plan, right?"

"Right," Wilder lied.

"Good," Lucy said. "I'm waiting."

"Give me a minute." A plan, Wilder thought, and concentrated on that all the way back to the hotel.

Wilder was in Lucy's hotel room, checking his gun and trying to figure out all the places the plan he'd come up with could go wrong, when she came out of the bathroom wearing a thick, fluffy white robe, looking delicious with no makeup, her long, dark hair wet from her shower.

Different plan, he thought, but the look she gave him was cool.

"What are you doing?" she said, dropping her eyes to the Glock.

"I called room service," he said, trying not to think about how naked she was under the robe.

"Oh." Lucy nodded at the gun. "Usually you don't shoot them. Tipping is good, though."

Somebody knocked on the door, and Wilder got up and hovered near Lucy's shoulder as she checked the peephole.