On returning to the room, Rora found Torres still unconscious on one bed, Strike sitting on the other, and Junker pacing the room. But the moment the door closed, both conscious men stopped to focus on her.

“What?” she asked the two men who were fixated on her, making her squirm.

Junker was still just gaping when Strike got up from the bed and came to her. Braced for whatever reaction he might have to the bag of supplies she was carrying, she didn’t fight him when he took it from her.

Strike opened it, looked inside and then threw it aside to grab her face and haul her up to kiss her. She was so shocked by the kiss that she froze for a minute and didn’t respond. He pushed her jacket from her shoulders and rushed her back against the door.

“You naughty, naughty girl,” he said, shoving her head back to suck on her neck.

“Stop,” she said, pushing at his shoulders, but her knees were starting to buckle. “Don’t.”

Junker came up behind Strike and she had to shove harder to make the man kissing her back off. “You can’t support this, Exile,” Junker declared. “I can’t believe that even you—”

“I can’t be mad at her when she misbehaves,” Strike said, clasping her throat then letting his hand drift down over her torso. “Fuck, I love it when you’re bad.”

“Someone had to do it, Junk,” she said, touching the spot Strike had marked on her neck. “Exile did the heavy lifting with the patient.”

Strike glared at Junker. “Yeah, what do we need him for again? You and me can rely on each other to do whatever’s necessary. We don’t need a square or a narc.”

Leaving the door, she went toward one of Junker’s packs. “Can we use one of your laptops, Junk?”

“Uh, yeah, I—”

But she had already taken one from its case. Strike came over. “One of?”

“He has three,” she said, grinning at him as she held it up. “Guess some guys carry a bigger wad than others.”

“Guess some need to,” Strike said. “Mine’s all-purpose and obviously more powerful. Guess his doesn’t measure up.”

Presenting the laptop to him, she smiled. “I was careful. But will you cover my ass, please, Flame?”

“Oh,” he said, folding his arms. “You want me to use his kit to clean up your mess.”

She thrust the computer toward him. “A mess made for your friend.”

He pushed the computer back to her. “I don’t have friends.”

The tension in the room didn’t need to be fueled, but as they stood toe-to-toe with this computer between them, she could feel the air begin to crackle. “So, what am I?” she asked.

“You’re my girl,” he said.

Pushing the laptop against his chest, she didn’t mind jolting him. “I am not your girl.”

“Yeah? So why keep calling me your flame?”

“ ‘Cause I can’t use your real name and I feel stupid saying Exile… It’s a stupid name, by the way.”

“You know his real name?” Junker exclaimed, but she didn’t respond.

Rora wasn’t going to break eye contact with Strike; no way was she giving him the satisfaction of winning this stare down. “Yes, I do, and I’ll be happy to start using it if Exile keeps screwing with me.”

“Someone’s crabby,” Strike said. “Guess I won’t be getting any this week if it’s that time of the month.”

Rora hated that way he looked into her, he knew she was getting riled and he took great pleasure in being the one to push her buttons. But then again, no one could press her buttons the way that he did.

“Would you take this and do your job, please?” she said, picking up his hand to put it on the laptop she’d pressed to his chest.

“Give me mine and I’ll do it,” he said. She sneered at him. “Tick, tock, baby, you could be creeping onto the wanted lists right now.”

“Do you want me to check if the robbery has been reported?” Junker asked from somewhere in the periphery of the room.

The corner of Strike’s mouth rose, but there was no joy in his conceited expression. “There you go, baby. The square will check for you.”

Strike dropped onto the couch, opening his arms along the back. “Uh,” she said and licked her lips when she turned to Junker, deliberately stepping on Strike’s foot as she did. “Thanks, Junk, but Exile does a little more than just check.”

“What does he do?”

“Yeah, Cupcake, what do I do?”

Narrowing her eyes on him, she hated that he got such gratification from her need. Instead of fighting him, she surrendered. “Fine,” she said, bending over him to put the laptop on the end table next to his chair. “Don’t do a thing.”

Walking away, she headed for the door.

“Whoa,” Strike said when she pushed Junker aside and grabbed the door handle. Rora rested her weight on it as she twisted around to look to him. “Where are you going?”

“To get myself arrested,” she said. “Maybe I’ll try solicitation this time. Let’s see how much you get while I’m in jail.”

Pushing down the handle, she was about to go out, but he rushed over and put his hand on hers to try prying it away from the handle. “Baby,” he murmured, trying to slide an arm around her waist, but she pushed it away.

“No,” she said, giving him a push. “No, go away.”

Crowding her, he kept trying to pull her into his arms and she kept pushing him away. “Cupcake,” he mumbled into her hair and tried to duck down to kiss her, but she twisted away from him. “You want me to apologize, huh?”

Lifting her chin, she looked right past him. “Try it, see what happens.”

Easing himself closer, he slid his arms around her, pulling her hip to his groin. “I’m sorry, babe,” he said, crouching to nuzzle her neck through her hair. “You were so bad. You know what it does to me when you’re bad.” Yeah, it turned him on. “You make me want to be bad too. We’re so good at being bad together.”

Recognizing the growl in his voice, she smiled and tried again to push away his embrace. “Don’t start that,” she said.

Strike yanked her to him. “Let’s fight, baby. I love it when you’re angry.”

“Yeah, because you usually get some,” she said, trying to wriggle out of his arms, but that just made him hold her tighter. “Ok, I get it.” Matching her eyes to his, she used the heat she saw in his to her advantage and stopped fighting him. “Do you have my back?”

“Always,” he said, and leaned in for a kiss.

Avoiding his mouth, Rora ducked out under his arm and slipped away to go to Junker. “I think we’ll have to pack up here and move on.”

“He’s out,” Junker said, nodding at Torres on the bed. “And we just got here.”

Rora felt Strike’s eyes on her as he passed, but she just smiled and ignored him. He went back to the armchair and picked up the laptop she’d tried to give him before, Junker’s laptop. Weird as it might be for him to work on a different machine, and for her to see him on a different one, it impressed her that he could pick it up and do what he needed to without skipping a beat.

“We don’t have to go far, just away from here. Pack up the truck and we’ll worry about moving him when it’s done,” she said.

Junker accepted this and got to work.

They’d need to know where to go and she needed to get a better lay of the land. Because she needed to make some decisions about direction, and because she knew it would irk Strike, she retrieved Opal from beneath the pillow she’d been secreted under.

Instead of sitting on the bed, Rora went over to the dresser and sat on the floor against it, straightening her legs to prop her feet up on the chair Strike was sitting on, resting them between his thighs. It was nuts that she was using Opal for something as basic as checking maps, but when she peeked up and saw Strike fixated on her, she felt a surge of satisfaction that made it worth it. 

“This machine’s a piece of shit,” he said. 

“Bad workman blames his tools.”

“I’m doing the job, I’m just not impressed,” he said. “Good call bailing out though.”

“How do you think they found us? The authorities have never been this close to our ass… have they? All this time I was impressed by your skills. Are you showing me now that without Opal, you can’t keep me safe?”

Sliding further down into the chair, his groin bumped against her feet. “You’re safe. Torres is clear of trackers,” he said. “What about your new buddy?”

“How would they know to track him?” she asked.

Strike shrugged. “He’s not as vigilant as you.”

“Someone used to call me paranoid,” she said, remembering what had happened in a certain convenience store parking lot after she told him she had a creepy feeling.

“Whatever,” he said. “The square might not notice someone pinning something on him.”

“Well we can’t ask if—”

Strike rose, putting the laptop onto the chair and a hand on her head when he lifted his leg over her. “Yo, Square,” he said just as Junker came back in. “Come here.”

Closing Opal, Rora leaped to her feet and put the laptop on the dresser before darting over to get between the men. “What are you doing?” she asked Strike.

“Don’t worry,” he said, taking something from his back pocket. “It’s painless.” He began to wave the device in his hand up and down over Junker. “And saves me from having to touch the guy.”

“What’s he doing?” Junker asked.

Strike put a hand on her stomach and eased her aside to move around to Junker’s back. “Just go with it,” she said.

To her surprise the device bleeped when Strike moved it over the back of Junker’s neck. “And what do we have here?” Strike muttered and ran his thumb up the inside of Junker’s collar to pull out a miniscule flat square. Holding it up on a fingertip, Strike showed it to her.

“Wow,” she said, getting in close. “It’s so tiny.”

“Now I get to hit him, right?” Strike asked. She tutted at him. “What? He endangered you.”

Dropping the device to the floor, Strike stamped it with the heel of his boot. While she was still examining the shattered remains, Strike lunged forward and threw an arm around Junker’s neck, pulling him backwards and locking the unsuspecting man in a chokehold.

“Flame!” she screamed.

Junker choked, coughing and clawing at the arm Strike had clamped around him. “He’s a liability,” Strike said.

“Please,” she said. “Let him go! He didn’t know! Please! He didn’t know!” But Strike had determination on his face and Junker’s hits were getting weaker. “Goddamnit!”

Grabbing Strike’s forearm, she leaped up and sunk her teeth into the side of his hand. “Fuck,” he called out and let go of Junker who fell to the floor. “Jesus, baby!”

Dropping to the floor, she checked on Junker; he was still conscious, just wheezing and coughing. “He’s a maniac,” Junker croaked, rubbing his throat.

The air rushed from her lungs when Strike grabbed her and hauled her up to her feet. “I’m gonna muzzle that mouth,” Strike hissed at her, snatching her close to him.

“We have to get out of here,” she said, willing to take any punishment he dished out, but the anger in his eyes was too aroused to be a danger to her. “They know we’re here.”

“Let’s split,” he said and started to pull her, but she yanked him back.

“Help Junker take Torres to the truck.”

Tugging her hard so she fell against him, Strike was losing his patience. “No way,” he said. “We’re with each other, that’s it.”

But she curved her arm around her waist, pulling his arm with hers. “Junker is helpful. Like it or not, he can be useful.”

“And him?” Strike asked, nodding at the bed though he didn’t take his eyes from hers. “What do we need him for?”

“Burke needs his fall guy,” she said. “And if we cross his path, we might need—”

“Leverage,” Strike said, and he dropped his forehead to bump it on hers. “Fuck, baby, that’s cold. I love it.” Kissing her hairline, he let her go and went to haul Junker off the floor. “Move, Square, help me get this prick in the back of the truck.”

Junker was still recovering from his own Strike encounter, but he stumbled along to do what was asked of him. She didn’t know if Junker had picked up on much of what she’d said to Strike. Rora wasn’t sure if she would be able to hand over one man to another who wanted to ruin his life. But, for now, it kept them all together and the sad truth was, if it saved innocent Leandra, she might be capable of it.

Torres had training and could be a plant, she hadn’t eliminated that possibility, but for now, she didn’t know enough to come to that conclusion. She and Strike knew how to limit what they said in front of Torres and as long as they told Junker not to talk too much in front of the narc, she hoped they wouldn’t lose any ground.

This was a chance to gather some intel of her own on the men around her. One of them would be her path out of this, but as of this minute, she didn’t know which one of them to trust, so she wasn’t ready to call any of them out of the running.