Chapter 6: Your Highness

"All right," Jarek said. "My business."

He came the last ten feet along the dock until he was close enough that Averett could see his face in the starlight.

"I said it to Quarles because he was hunting for a reason to pull me off you.

If I said I liked you, I was gone by Friday."

"And do you?"

"That's not a thing I answer."

"Then answer the other one.

Why is there no one in your bed at three a.m., Mr. Kingsbury? Why does everyone in the world think there is?"

It was a good question, and it came too close.

Averett looked at the black water.

"People think a lot of things," Averett said.

"Which ones are true?"

"Ask me something easier," Averett said.

"Where did you learn to take a hit for a man who'd just said you were a job?"

Averett laughed, short and surprised.

"That's easier," Averett said. "I didn't. I'm a very bad fighter."

"You're an excellent liar."

"I'm a mediocre liar," Averett said.

"You lied to Quarles with a straight face."

"That was the truth," Averett said. "Just the wrong way round."

Jarek was smiling, a lopsided, reluctant smile.

It was the first time Averett had seen it fully, and it rearranged his whole face.

A gust of wind blew up off the water and tugged at their clothes.

Out over the sound the sky had gone purple-black, and the first fat drops hit the boards.

"Weather," Jarek said. "Inside. Now."

"It's a rain shower," Averett said.

"It's lightning on a dock."

"Rule four?" Averett asked.

"Rule seven. Move."

He took Averett by the upper arm and ran him up the planks toward the boathouse.