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a while?"

It really wasn't any of her business, unless of course she intended to take him up on his invitation, which she didn't...she didn't think. But she wanted to know anyway.

Eli glanced over before screwing his forehead into thinking mode. "I don't know--a year? About that, I guess. Christmas last year, I think, when I was down south. You want her name?"

The blush burned all the way up. "No, that won't be necessary," she said primly, wishing she could hide her embarrassment. But the test was a couple of months old, he said. She'd only known him for one, since mid-January. "Why did you have the test done, Eli? Was there someone else you were thinking about--you know..."

He waited until she looked at him. "You're the only woman I want. The only one I've wanted since Christmas a year ago."

Her blush burned hotter and she turned back to the street, unconvinced of his sincerity. "Then why have the test done?"

"I get one every six months," he said, voice grim, hard. "I've been told I don't have to any more. It's been long enough I should be clean, but I do it anyway. I used to get one every three months."

He was watching her when she risked a glance, his face closed down. Except for his eyes, so bright they burned her.

"I lived almost four years on the streets here in Pittsburgh, Marilyn. I wasn't exactly--" Eli shut those pale, shining blue eyes and when he opened them again, they stared at the ceiling of the car. "Hell, for a while there, I fucked anything that moved. Is that what you wanted to know?"

No. His truth scalded her heart.

He took a deep breath, let it out, and spoke. "I just thought that--since you know--I mean about Stan kicking me out and all--that you might wonder. If I had something. I don't. So that's one less thing for you to be afraid of." He shrugged, looking anywhere but at her. "If you're really thinking about--about what I said."

She had to work to keep her voice even, eliminate the pity she felt for the boy he used to be. Eli the man wouldn't want it. "I appreciate the consideration."

"So are you?" Still he wouldn't look at her. "Thinking about it? Seriously?"

Marilyn sighed. "Yes, Eli. I'm afraid I am."

Eli spent the next several days making himself useful around Marilyn's apartment. He adjusted her toaster so that it actually made toast rather than either warm bread or charcoal. He fixed the funny noise in the dishwasher. He even glued her dining chairs back together where the joints were coming loose. Not easy with only one and a half hands, but he managed. He only had three weeks to convince Marilyn she wanted him to stay and he figured he would need every minute of that time.

Early in the next week, he had the guts of Marilyn's kitchen clock spread out on the table. He was trying to hold a tiny washer in place with the fingers of his right hand while his clumsy left hand inserted an even tinier screw through the opening.

"You don't have to fix everything I own," Marilyn said, watching him work from the chair across the table. "That wasn't an expensive clock. It lasted for years. I can afford to buy another one."

"I was bored, okay? It gives me something to do." He dropped the screw and swore under his breath when it rolled off the table. Picking things up off the floor still wasn't easy, even with the smaller cast on his leg.

"Better be careful." She got up and headed into the kitchen, probably to fix lunch since it was about that time.

"Why? Afraid you'll step on something?" He leaned sideways and with his right foot, raked the screw in reach of his left hand, then dipped the other way and picked it up.

"If you make yourself too useful around here, I might decide I want you to stick around longer."

That was exactly what he wanted, but Eli wasn't sure he dared say it, so he just shrugged. Then his cell phone started ringing, its sound muffled by all the magazines it hid behind.

Marilyn's head came up as Eli shoved to his feet. "Is the TV on?" she said. "I hear a phone, but it's not this phone."

"It's not the TV." He hobbled across the room, dug out his phone and punched the button. "This is Court. Talk."

"Court." The smooth, dark voice made Eli go cold all over.

There was only one way that man could have gotten this number. What had Teresa gotten herself into?

"What do you want, Flash?"

"What do you think I want? I want the boy. I'm told you know where he is."

Eli didn't answer. He didn't see any advantage either in admitting or denying knowledge.

"Are you going to give me what I want, Court?"

"Why should I?"

"I'll trade you the woman for the boy."

Eli went colder. "What I said. Why should I? How do I know you even have her?" He turned his back on Marilyn, knowing she was listening to every word. "How do you know I have the boy?"

"I got this number, didn't I? She gave it up easy."

"So?" He felt sick. Why hadn't Tee gone back where she was safe? But he couldn't let any of it show in his voice. He kept it steady, ice cold. "That doesn't mean shit. There's plenty of places you could have got this number."

"I want the boy, Court." Flash's voice was colder than Eli's. "I'll kill the bitch if I don't get him."

"What's that to me?" Eli wiped the sweat from his forehead with the edge of the sling, then pushed the cast hard into his churning stomach, hoping the pressure would help. He had to keep it together. "She dumped me years ago."

"She's still a nice piece of ass, once she cleans up some. Why should you care who has the kid?"

"I don't," he lied. "I can't give him to you because I don't have him."

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