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extrapolating from the information we collect. If I
hear one more sno y HS guy tell me just the facts,
sir, I m gonna punch somebody.
We ll worry about the extrapolation. Just tell
us what you know, and how to reach the databases
then we can break their codes.
Look, I said KT s a software expert, but he s
not
I know. You just said that to deflect their
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interest. The illusion might prove useful, though.
Turn shifted uneasily, tugging me under him
and resting his weight across my aching abdomen
and hips, like when he s bringing me in from a
nightmare. Race, this is treason.
No, actually it is conspiracy to& never mind.
You re not going to leave any fingerprints on the data.
You won t find enough data to blow an operation.
You re not identifying any undercover agents or
pu ing their lives in danger. I ll call it good if you
let me know what the FBI knows about me. If I were
home, I could probably get most of this data with
a request under the Freedom of Information act.
Right now, what you re giving me is a competitive
edge, so that I can maintain my position and keep
enforcing policies that save li le children s lives.
Then you can go home, to your uncomplicated life
and your uncomplicated blond lover.
Bi erness. I knew bi erness when I heard it.
Did you really do him and broadcast it?
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A wicked chuckle. He s quite the star. My
lieutenants can t get over it.
He ll hate you for it.
True that.
What he thinks doesn t ma er.
It ma ers to me. And what am I supposed to
think?
You re grown up enough to realize I had to
lay a spectacular bet to win you, and I had to do it
fast, with what was available. I bet your ass, quite
literally, that I would have his ass within an hour.
That I could do what Senior couldn t.
You don t have to hurt him, or humiliate him, to
make your point.
Wrong. Look, here s the situation. There s
production, shipping, and distribution. Distribution
was split between Senior in the east and Juarez in the
west. Within weeks after I took over the shipping
operations, Senior came here, leaving a third of our
markets una ended, and further stirred the pot by
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offing the production jefe and taking his position.
Senior s a natural caudillo strong man but he
doesn t know the troops and they don t know him.
My marrying Julieta got me some homeboy cred,
but as a Cuban I m a foreigner just like Senior. The
troops have been justifiably concerned. When Senior
proposed stealing your home computers to find out
what the FBI knows, Juarez raised the ante without
telling the rest of us by sending the team to steal
you too. But now the three of us won. Think about
that. And once in a while try to remember what we
had. How you said you d always be in love with me.
How
This I didn t want to hear. I mumbled to break
the conversation.
Turn stroked down my arm, down my side,
down my back. He told me it was okay and that he
had me, that I was safe.
The words, with the stroking, eased my tension
even though I knew it wasn t okay and that our
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safety was ephemeral, if not illusory.
How often had he spoken to me like this in the
months we d been together? How thoroughly had
he trained my subconscious?
I spent most of the next day following the lee
edge of the shade around the atrium, studying the
wall opposite wherever I currently sat.
I d dressed while Turn and Race slept in the
u er dark. The closet had magically materialized
three outfits. One was Turn s size; it felt like linen
slacks and a crisp guayabera shirt. The second was
a narrower cut of Turn s outfit. The third was an
undecorated shirt and a pair of pantalons with both
drawstring and beltloops.
A uniform to mark me as one of the peons.
I would have taken Race s, except his slacks
wouldn t cover my ankles. I loathe ankle-waders.
I did swipe the belt and sleeveless undershirt
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from Race s hangar. Then thought to rifle his pockets
from the pile by the bed. Pen-knife, which felt just
like Turn s. The silver razor. I left them both. They d
be missed immediately. One key, which might be
missed long before I had a chance to find what it fit.
I left it, too.
I did tuck my purloined steak knife in my pocket,
with a thong wrapped around the blade for sort of
a sheathe.
Near the end of my morning exercises, Turn
and Race emerged from the suite in navy slacks and
guayabera shirts. Turn looked at me and blushed.
I looked away, folded the move into my kata.
Pretended I hadn t noticed either Turn s blush or
their matching heads of wet black hair.
They had matching haircuts. How sweet.
From then, I spent my day on assessing the
physical layout of the place, especially the potential
exits.
All the windows here were small, and got
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smaller upstairs. There were two narrow balconies
set against blank walls on the third floor, where a
large window or door had been closed off and the
space covered with brightly tiled swirly sea-life
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