Chapter 10: Terms, Stancliffe

We didn't speak for the first ten blocks.

Erin sat with her coat in her lap and her eyes on the windshield.

I gripped the wheel with my good hand and looked at every red light.

"That wasn't in the plan," I said finally.

"It was exactly in the plan. We needed him to watch."

"Then why are you shaking?"

"I'm not."

She held up her right hand in the dashboard light.

It was shaking a little, and she looked at it.

"Pharmacist's hands," she said. "We don't shake."

"Maybe you ate something bad."

"Maybe you kiss like you're apologizing for something."

"I wasn't apologizing."

"No," she said. "You weren't."

I pulled into the condo's underground garage and parked in my spot and cut the engine.

The ticking of the cooling metal was the only sound.

"Terms," she said, still looking straight ahead. "Two."

"Dean wasn't watching by the end."

"He was watching until I stopped counting."

"You stopped counting."

"I know."

She turned in her seat.

She was close enough that I could smell the faint soap on her skin, and her eyes in the half dark were the color of dark glass.

"Stancliffe," she said. "Tell me to get out of the car."

"No."

I reached out and put my hand on her knee, over the green fabric.

She didn't move away.

My palm slid slowly up the outside of her leg, and she went still beneath my touch.

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