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the stool next to him, reluctantly dropping the duffle onto the floor. “A wise move.” I gestured towards the waitress, who was busy studying a tabloid magazine at the other end of the counter and ignoring our reunion. “If I hug you, will it destroy your tough-guy image?”
    “Maybe,” Harris said solemnly. “But I’m willing to risk it.” He yanked me half off the stool into a grapple I knew was sending Hunter’s blood pressure soaring. After a minute I worked my way free, gasping for air. Lucky for both of us, his hands stayed on my shoulders and didn’t wander.
    “Same old Harris.”
    “Same old Jo.” His thick fingers waggled in the air. “Refill, Bernie, when you get a chance.” He looked at me. “Coffee?”
    “I’m good for now.” I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the tense muscles start to relax just a bit. “Scared me with that postcard, dude. Wasn’t sure if it was really you.”
    “Wasn’t sure you’d come.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Figured I’d roll dem dice. It was Vegas, after all.” He waved at Bernie who advanced on us, coffee carafe in hand. “Bernie, this is Jo. I’ve told you about her. Old friend of mine.”
    She squinted. “You look familiar.”
    “I get a lot of that.” I struck a pose, tilting my head upwards in my best vogue. “One of those faces, you know.”
    “Ah.” The waitress smiled. “You packed away a lot of food.”
    “Good living. My compliments to the chef.” I tapped my stomach.
    “Let me heat that up for you, dear.” She reached for Harris’s mug and tipped the carafe.
    “That pot’s not even half-warm,” Harris groused. “Can’t you put on a new pot and dump that one out?”
    She gave me a tired, we-women-who-deal-with-whiny-men look before filling his cup to the rim, the surface tension dangerously close to breaking and slopping coffee all over the counter.
    “Call me if you need anything else.” Bernie shot me a wink before retreating.
    Harris slipped his index finger into the coffee, sloshing some of the lukewarm liquid over the sides. A second later steam rose from the reheated drink. He withdrew his finger and popped it into his mouth with a sly smile.
    “I wouldn’t do that too often.”
    Harris chuckled as he leaned down to sip the hot coffee. “Only when I need to. There’s no Starbucks for about fifty miles, and she does make mighty fine coffee.”
    I waited until Bernie was out of earshot. “Are you okay? Are you in trouble?”
    “Me?” He laughed. “In trouble? I’ve been as straight as an arrow, swear.” His eyes dropped to stare at Bernie’s backside as she studied her paper at the other end of the counter. “Honest.”
    I shook my head. “Could have just picked up the phone, dude.” I rubbed my jaw, indicating our shared link. “Jessie would have wired you up.”
    He looked back at me and shook his head. “Too dangerous.”
    “What?” I glanced around us. “What do you mean?”
    “This Controller fellow,” he whispered. “You know who I’m talking about.”
    My poker face was tried and true. “Who?”
    “The bastard who ran Lamarr after your ass. And that girl, what’s her name.” Harris’s gaze darted around the diner again. “Heard he’s got eyes and ears everywhere. Didn’t want to risk calling you through open lines. You never know who’s listening in.” He tapped his jaw. “Even on this.”
    I kept the game going. “What do you know about this guy?”
    Harris shook his head, cutting off the conversation. “Let’s get out of here. I love Bernie, but I don’t want to make her a target by talking about such stuff ’round her.” He tossed a handful of bills on the table. “My place is around the corner.”
    He didn’t offer to take my duffle bag, and I didn’t expect him to.
    The streets were empty save for an appearance by a single police car cruising around in a large, looping circle, passing by us twice. Harris lifted his hand and waved to the unseen officer