The car was really a spectacular piece of shit, but it was clean and it ran. It was also far less awkward to sit in the passenger seat next to a near-stranger than it was to snuggle into his chest as he stalked through shady Chicago streets, even if she thought he did feel pretty buff.

"What happened?" she asked quietly, watching the scenery go by.

"You're going to have to be more specific than that."

"While I was out, I mean," she clarified, and for a brief flash she thought he might actually have a sense of humor. A stone-dry one, but at least it was there. "If those two guys had me, how'd you get me away from them?"

"There was a fight," he replied. "I don't think they were prepared for that."

"You fought two people by yourself?"

"I was highly trained in hand-to-hand combat. Little rusty, but it's kind of like riding a bike," said Caine. "Former military."

"Yeah? So how'd you get into private investigating?"

Caine tightened his jaw and was silent a long moment. "I wanted to join the FBI after my tour in Afghanistan," he said eventually. "Didn't work out. This was the next best thing."

Jupiter nodded slowly and could only guess she'd brought up a touchy subject. "Well. I mean – I'm sorry your career didn't go the direction you'd planned. But I'm glad you were where you were tonight."

He turned to look at her briefly. "Yeah?"

She nodded, and gave him an encouraging smile before he turned his attention back to the road. "Yeah. Even if I end up in Russia, at least I'll be alive."

"That where your family's from?"

"Yeah. St. Petersburg. I might have some kind of family there, I don't know. But at least I speak the language," she finished brightly. "Sort of."

He chuckled in the seat next to her. They rode quietly on, as the sun rose, and Jupiter texted her mother to make sure she wasn't missed. That was when she noticed she had a nearly full battery.

"You charged my phone."

Caine paused a moment to look over at her. "Is that okay?"

She smiled, and then turned to him. "That was nice," she said. "Thank you. For that – and for saving me from . . . whoever those guys were. Hey – how do you know they were working for Titus's brother?"

He shrugged. "They're not all that bright," he replied. "They referred to him by name." He smiled when Jupiter chuckled. "Don't need to be a PI to figure that one out."

Jupiter chuckled a little and turned to look out the window. She had some idea of where they were – the sun hadn't quite risen above the horizon. "How did you find me?"

"Katherine Dunlevy," he replied.

"She told you I was there?"

"No – you registered on a genealogy website with her name-"

Jupiter's eyes went wide. "Oh, God – is she in danger now?"

Caine held up a hand to calm her. "She should be fine," he replied. "I'm sure Stinger will send someone to look after her until this is all figured out."

"Who's Stinger? Is that your FBI friend?"

Caine hesitated. "He's not really a friend; not anymore," he said cryptically. "But those two aren't looking for Katherine; they know that now. It's you they want." He looked over at her again, for just a second, and noted her worried eyes. She was chewing on her thumbnail. "Jupiter, I promise we'll get someone to look in on her. Please, don't worry."

She pulled her thumb away from her lips and nodded. Then she took a deep breath. "Okay."

"Why did you use her name, anyway?"

"Aside from being illegal? I didn't want my mom to know," she said. "I'm looking for my dad's family. She never knew them – my parents met and married in St. Petersburg; after he died . . . I don't know what happened. She doesn't talk about it. But I want to know." Jupiter paused, and looked out at the passing scenery again. "All she's ever really said about him is that he loved the stars. He was an astrophysicist. But they had a life – before they met, he had a life, and a family. And I want to know about his life, and what he was like when he was a little boy. I want to know where they are and where they came from. Why they didn't help my mom; why she felt she had to leave. Why I was born in the middle of the Atlantic." She started chewing her thumbnail again. "Just . . . things I've always wondered. My aunt Nino says she thinks his parents might've been American. And a DNA test is only like a hundred bucks. So I figured it was worth a shot." She let out a humorless chuckle. "I haven't even gotten my results back yet."

"Well, someone has them. That's how Titus found you."

Jupiter groaned. "Christ," she muttered. All she wanted was to know who she was. So many things had been denied her – wasn't she owed this one thing?

"Listen," said Caine, and in his voice she could hear an eagerness to soothe, "it's a few hours yet to Peoria, but once we get a little further out of the city I can stop for something for your head. We can get some breakfast, too. How are you feeling?"

"Head just hurts," she said, and leaned back into the seat. "I think it's getting better, though."

Caine made a pleased sound, and reached cautiously into the seat behind her to extract a blanket. "Here – why don't you try and rest? I'll wake you when I stop. Maybe an hour?"

"That actually sounds fantastic," she said, and gratefully spread the blanket over herself. "Thank you."

She covered her face against the rising sun and closed her eyes, and was soon asleep.


It was just past eight o'clock when Caine pulled up in front of a relatively nondescript office building. He'd stopped along the way and provided Jupiter with aspirin and water, and engaged her in awkward conversation over pancakes; she slept for the remainder of the drive.

They walked into the little office, Caine holding the door for Jupiter. At the desk was a petite, blonde girl who smiled up at Jupiter. "May I help you?" she asked.

"Um . . . we're here to see . . . who did you say?" Jupiter looked behind her as Caine came through the door.

The girl's face lit up. "Oh my god . . . Caine!"

He smiled a little. "Hey, Kiza. It's good to see you."

She rose and came around the desk with her arms out. He put his hands up in defense. "Kiza . . . I can't." She looked as crushed as he did. "I'm sorry."

The girl, Kiza, looked up at him. Jupiter thought she might be about to protest, but then she seemed to recall that they had an audience. She nodded and said, "Okay. Maybe we'll talk about it later."

"Maybe," he said with a nod, and even Jupiter knew they wouldn't.

Kiza's expression was all earnestness. "You look good, Caine – really good."

He colored. "Thanks, Kiza."

"Did you want to see Dad?"

"No," said Caine. "But I need to."

Kiza nodded again, and reached under the desk to press a button. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh – this is Jupiter Jones," he said, gesturing. "Jupiter, this is Kiza Apini. She's an old friend."

The women shook hands. "Used to be his sister in law," said Kiza. "Are you dating?"

Jupiter's eyes went wide, and she put a hand up. "Oh – oh God, no," she said, caught off-guard by too much information and too little context. "I mean, I'm not saying . . . I'm just . . . we met like three hours ago."

The fact that Kiza looked vaguely disappointed only served to confuse Jupiter.

"Oh," said Kiza. "Well, I-"

"The fuck are you doin' in my office, Wise?" an angry, gravelly voice barked, and Caine turned to face it.

Jupiter watched in confusion as Caine lowered his chin and took a step backward, the same look on his face as when she'd pointed a gun (albeit unloaded) at him. He looked less like a fearless private detective this time, and more like an abused dog.

"I need your help," said Caine.

"Tough shit," snapped the man, who by Jupiter's estimation was in his late fifties. "You go back to whatever hole you crawled out of and leave my daughter alone. Both of them."

Caine straightened. "Look, I want to be here about as much as you want me to-"

"Then get the fuck out!" he shouted. "Honestly, who do you think you are? I told you I never wanted to see your pathetic goddamn face again, and I meant it!"

Kiza gave a long-suffering sigh. "Really, Dad?"

He made a face at Kiza. "Don't you sigh at me, Kiza. Kallie just started sleeping at night again-"

"That's dramatic, even for Kallie."

"-and this sonofabitch thinks for one goddamned minute that I'll help him?"

"You know what, Stinger-"

The man turned sharply on Caine, pointing an angry finger. "You don't get to call me Stinger!"

"Fine. Gordon, then. It isn't me that needs your help-"

"Do you think you can just waltz in and out of people's lives?"

"Oh, Jesus." Kiza put her face in her hands.

"After everything you put her through you have got a metric shit-ton of testicular fortitude showin' up here, for anything."

That seemed to get under Caine's hackles, and he finally looked angry. "Fuck you, Stinger! I paid the price for what I did – they took my wings!"

"I don't give a flyin' fuck what they took. And don't you goddamn call me-"

"Dad!"

The man stopped yelling at the sound of his daughter's voice, and looked over at her. She gestured to Jupiter, and he stared.

"If you're done venting your spleen about something that allegedly happened five years ago, I think Caine came to get help for her."

The man's stare was unsettling. Jupiter tried to ease her own discomfort by smiling. "Hi there," she said with cheerfulness she didn't feel. "I'm Jupiter Jones."

"You're Seraphi Abrasax."

Jupiter looked over at Caine, who looked as confused at the man's declaration as she felt. "Um . . . no. I'm not. I just told you, I'm Jupiter."

"Sorry," said the man. "Um . . . I'm Special Agent Gordon Apini with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. You can call me Stinger. Why don't you come on back with me." He gestured over his shoulder toward the back of the office.

Jupiter walked toward the agent and whispered a thank you to Kiza; she smiled and sat back down at her desk. Stinger looked down at his daughter for a moment. His voice was much gentler than he'd used with Caine. "You need to stop with the allegedly, Kiza," he said. "We've talked about this before."

"I know what we talked about," she replied, without looking at him. "Doesn't change anything."

Stinger buzzed with agitation but said nothing, and turned to lead Jupiter to his office.