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  “Nah, old guy just wanted to set things right. I wonder what’s on that reel,” Blakely said thoughtfully. “Ya know, he’s got a hell of a grip for his age, nearly squeezed my hand off.” He winced and shook the hand Van Heusen had clasped. “still kinda stings a little.”

  “That’s what you get for shaking hands with the old pimp,” Holt lectured.

  “Ah, Holt, where’s the harm?” Blakely shrugged. “C’mon, let’s get this little lady home so she can get to work on the article for her next Pulitzer.” He threw an arm around Sadie’s waist and Holt copied his partner’s motion and wrapped his own long arm around her shoulders.

  “I haven’t got the first one yet,” she reminded them, finding herself falling automatically into step with them as they walked to the parking garage.

  “Just give it time, honey,” Holt told her comfortably. “Just give it time.”

  22

  By the time they had reached their hovercraft, Blakely was feeling decidedly strange. He felt hot, then cold, then so hot he had to take off his jacket and unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt. His head had started to throb, too; probably, it was all because he had missed his morning caffeine-brew. Holt, who drank mostly herbal tea, had insisted that they had no time to stop at the Starbucks on the way, and Blakely just wasn’t himself without his daily jolt of caffeine. Still, it didn’t usually give him such an intense headache. He tried to shake it off and just concentrate on being with Sadie again. It was so damn good to see her, especially when he and Holt had figured she was out of their lives forever—her choice, not theirs. Several times in the past six months he had wanted to pick up the vid-screen and give her a call, but Holt had always vetoed the idea.

  “We’ve gotta let her know we’re still interested. Let her know we’re thinkin’ of her,” Blakely had protested, but Holt always said the same thing: “We don’t want to pressure her. If she comes to us it’s got to be her choice.”

  The dark-haired detective didn’t completely agree with that point of view, but he was willing to defer to Holt’s judgment—for a while. Actually, he had been on the point of deciding that when they got home from the trial he would call Sadie no matter what Holt said. He could tell her about Van Heusen’s sentencing—it would be the perfect excuse to remind her of their history together and let her know they still cared. He had never been more shocked or excited in his life than when he’d rounded the corner looking for a caffeine-brew dispenser and saw her standing in the fourth security check line nearly naked and completely embarrassed.

  She looked absolutely stunning, Blakely thought, stealing a glance in her direction as she and Holt talked. There were times in the past six months that he had wondered if he’d exaggerated her beauty in his memory, but if anything he had downplayed it. Her long silky, honey-colored hair swung around the shoulders of her cobalt suit, which emphasized all her luscious curves to perfection. The big, amber-brown eyes were as deep and beautiful as he remembered and just as easy in which to get lost.

  Blakely knew that Holt thought Sadie’s being here in New New York had everything to do with her new career move and nothing to do with them, but surely even his pessimistic partner couldn’t ignore the way the three-way bond throbbed between them and how the T-link opened and poured out energy with an intensity that he had never felt before. Even with minimal contact they were generating enough energy to light up half the city, he thought.

  “Blake, you driving?”

  “Huh?” He blinked and realized the other two were looking at him expectantly. “Oh, sorry. Sure.” He juggled the suit jacket he was carrying to his other arm and reached in his pocket to pull out the key card then fumbled it through suddenly clumsy fingers. “Oops,” he mumbled dully.

  Sadie bent to retrieve the card and held it out to him, looking concerned. “You all right, Blake?” she asked. “It’s not like you to be clumsy. And you’re sweating too.”

  “Just tired.” He made an effort to stand up straight. And suddenly, he was. His arms and legs felt like they were all made of lead. “Maybe Holt c’n drive. I’m beat.” He motioned for Sadie to hand his partner the key card instead.

  “Now I’m worried,” Holt said, frowning. “Since when do you ever let me drive? Especially in the city?”

  Blakely shrugged as well as his new lead shoulders would let him. “Not feelin’ so good is all.” Holt opened the craft and he clambered awkwardly in and collapsed in the back seat, leaving Sadie and his partner to take the front.

  As they drove, Holt kept glancing worriedly back at him until Blakely insisted he watch the road. By then even his tongue seemed to be dipped in lead and his words were coming out slightly slurred. Sadie and Holt were whispering in the front seat and Blakely caught the words “hospital” and “emergency room.”

  Making an effort to sit up he leaned forward to make himself heard. “Not gonna go to no damn hospital, Holt,” he said, as clearly as he could. “Just tired ’cause you didn’t let me have my caffeine today. Maybe comin’ down with the flu. Drop me off at home ’n I’ll be fine.” Holt gave him a disapproving look and Sadie gave him a worried one, but his partner at last signaled and turned the craft in the direction of their apartment.

  “Okay buddy, let’s get you inside.” Blakely was suddenly aware of a familiar pair of arms pulling him upright. Had he gotten drunk on a night on the town again? Damn, he knew how much Holt hated that.

  “’M, sorry, Holt,” he tried to say but his tongue didn’t seem to want to work.

  “I think he’s trying to say something. Holt, I really don’t like this.” That soft, feminine growl would be Sadie. Damn she had a sexy voice. Blakely felt it all the way down to his balls every time she talked. Or he usually did, when his balls weren’t made of lead, that was. Blakely wanted to say something to her, something about how glad he was that she had finally come back to them, but it was like someone had glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth—nothing was coming out.

  “I don’t like it either,” he heard Holt say. “Come on, we’ll get him to the med-chair and see what it says.”

  He tried to open his eyes and watch as they pulled him down the hall, but every time he tried it was a huge effort for nothing; the world was just one big colorful blur so why bother? Blakely shut his eyes and let himself be dragged. He was vaguely aware when they got him into the familiar apartment he and Holt had shared for the past six years and he could still hear his partner and Sadie talking, but all his other senses seemed to be fading in and out alarmingly.

  “Here, give me a hand, would you? Grab his right arm and on the count of three…”

  “Oh my Goddess, Holt. His hand…look at it!”

  “What the hell?” Blakely felt his arm grabbed and cried out weakly. The rest of his body felt dull and lethargic, but suddenly the hand they were looking at was insisting that it hurt! That it was on fire!

  It reminded him vaguely of the time he’d gone to visit his cousins on the old Mexi-Tex border and had stumbled into a nest of mutie lava ants. The thumb-sized, bright red insects had swarmed up his ankles, gouging fiercely with their serrated pinchers as they went, injecting their horrible, burning venom that felt like fire in his veins. If Uncle Vernon hadn’t been right there and had the hose in his hand to spray Blakely off with he would’ve been a goner for sure. The ants were back now and this time they were in his arm.

  “Water…wash ’em off,” he tried to say but nothing but a strangled moan came out.

  “Quick, help me take off his shirt and put him in the chair. It’s linked to emergency services.” He was pushed and pulled into position until he was reclining in the diagnostic med-chair that was a standard feature in every house and apartment since Old Earth had finally gotten standardized health care.

  “Well, what does it say?” Sadie’s voice was anxious, eager.

  “It says…no, that can’t be right.”

  “What? What?” Through a haze of pain he heard Sadie asking something but he couldn’t understand what