The undercover operation seemed to be fairly straightforward. Caine would take Jupiter to Titus Abrasax, as he'd promised. Jupiter, armed with a camera and microphone woven invisibly into her hair, would uncover what she could about what Titus knew regarding the murders. Tsing's hope was that it would give them enough information to obtain search warrants, which they hadn't yet been able to do.

"Any kind of information is useful – if we can get in anywhere, we can wedge our way into what we really want to look at. Literally any lead could be the one thing we need."

"Right," said Jupiter, feeling now like she was watching the whole thing from outside her own skin. She was with Stinger now, back in his office, going over some basics of the operation – what to say and avoid saying, what her story was going to be, how to call for help should she need it.

She'd be monitored the whole time. She wouldn't be very far from an FBI agent at any given point.

So why did she feel like she was going to throw up?

"Listen, Jones," said Stinger, "you're going to be all right. You just have to keep it together for a little while longer. Once we have what we need to put Balem away, you can go back to your life and forget you ever met us."

Jupiter nodded. The crazy thing was, as much as she'd hated her life under her uncle's thumb, scrubbing toilets and playing dress-up with Katherine, that was all she wanted at the moment. She didn't get along with Vassily but at least he didn't want to kill her – not literally anyway. It wasn't perfect but it was simple and honest, and she had people who cared about her – her mother was most prominently in her mind at the moment. She didn't know what she'd do, how she'd explain, that her need to know who she was turned out to be more important than their anonymity and safety, and as a result they were all going to be deported.

She hoped like hell that Tsing was sympathetic, and wouldn't go after Aleksa and Nino. Jupiter didn't know what would happen to her – she didn't belong in Russia, either, having been born at sea. Would she be forced to float like this her whole life, never belonging anywhere, never really knowing half of her own story?

When Stinger finished briefing her, he led her out into the lobby. It was quiet and bright there and he sensed that she needed some sun. Plus Kiza would be cheerful – hell, even when she was taking a hunk out of his ass for doing something stupid, she was cheerful.

Wise was in the lobby, standing a respectable distance away, smiling – as much as he ever smiled – at Kiza as they chatted about Kiza's bees. She'd always loved them as a child, so a few years ago, with a snide comment tossed Kallie's way about beekeeping being the next best thing to being an aunt, for which she now had no hope, she built her first hive.

Jones seemed soft on Wise, which Stinger couldn't understand, considering how explicit he'd been about everything. But maybe he'd been too explicit, and although she didn't really seem the type, maybe Jones was one of those women who'd forgive any asshole who smiled sideways at them.

He sighed. It really wasn't any of his business. All he needed to do was keep Jones alive; that was his job. Once she was out of danger, he'd never have to look at either of them sideways again – and if she wanted to get involved with an angry drunk, that was her choice.

"Wise," he said sharply, "let's go have a look at your car and make sure it's not bugged."

Caine nodded at Kiza, and Stinger hated the affectionate longing he saw there. Wise had always been too easy to read. The older man sighed as he followed the younger man outside.

Kiza watched as Jupiter's eyes lingered on Caine, and smiled over at her. "You sure you're not dating Caine?"

Jupiter allowed a little smile, embarrassed for letting her eyes wander. "Yeah. It still only been, what? Twelve, maybe thirteen hours?"

The younger woman sat down behind her desk. "Not unheard of," she said.

Jupiter walked over, leaning against the raised section of the desk. "You know, this whole thing is weird, so . . . I'm just gonna take off the filter for a minute."

"Okay."

"It's a little messed up that you seem to be encouraging me to date your sister's ex-husband."

"Why's that?" asked Kiza, with a curious tilt of the head.

"Well . . . according to your dad, and Caine himself, it doesn't sound like he treated her very well."

Kiza sighed. "Listen, all I can really tell you is that Kallie brought Caine home and I'd never met anyone who needed a family as much as he does. So we gave him one and he treated us like glass – all three of us. We were precious and fragile to him. He'd have done anything for any one of us. I know that PTSD can change a person; that's what Dad keeps saying, that Caine left and someone else came back in his place. But I don't see it."

"You don't think he's different?"

"He is different," Kiza conceded. "But it's not like he's mean now, or something. It's like . . . he reverted. Back to the person he was before Kallie met him, and brought him home. Only now it's . . . worse. More intense." She shook her head and looked up at Jupiter. "She gave him a family, something he'd never had before, and then she took it away. He doesn't think he deserves one. His trust in himself was tenuous before, and now . . . it just doesn't exist."

"Is that why he won't touch people?"

Kiza nodded. "It's sad. He used to give the best hugs."

Jupiter gave her a sad smile. "She gave you a brother," she surmised. "And then she took him away."

"He took himself away, really," said Kiza. "It's just . . . he had help."

"You don't think he hurt Kallie?"

"I don't think he could hit anyone unless he had to. He's guilty of drinking, and he's guilty of taking too much oxy, and he got angry with Kallie and yelled at her. But I also watched her berate him more than once for things he couldn't control. I just think it's highly suspicious. Besides, the minute he was deployed, she got involved-"

Kiza's mouth snapped shut when Caine's figure appeared in the doorway again. When he walked through she shifted her eyes back to Jupiter and smiled. "Did you want a cup of coffee?"

Jupiter smiled. "That actually sounds fantastic. Thanks."

Kiza raised her eyebrows at Caine; he declined with a shake of the head. When she'd disappeared into the back, he looked over at Jupiter. "Gettin' to know Kiza?"

"A little," she replied. "Getting to know you, too."

He colored a little, and looked uncomfortable. "Well. Kiza's at least fair."

She smiled up at him. "Yeah, she seems pretty level headed."

"She's always been that way. Except sometimes, she's too generous."

"I think you might be too hard on yourself," said Jupiter, who could easily guess that that sentence ended with the words with me in his head.

"If you say so," he replied.

She shot a furtive glance at Kiza, who just shook her head. They were interrupted by Stinger then, who declared Caine's car free of any kind of tracking device.

"And any kind of dignity," he added. "Looks like you've slept in it."

"That's because I have," snapped Caine, baring his teeth a little.

Fortunately it didn't take long for the implications of that to sink into Stinger's head, and he shook his head. "Jesus, kid."

"I'm not entirely sure what you were expecting – it's not like there are a lot of employment opportunities available for dishonorably discharged veterans."

"Right – right – I'll knock it off," he mumbled, looking away.

"Well – now that Agent Apini has made everything nice and awkward," came Tsing's voice from behind Kiza, "I think it's about time everyone headed out. If we're going to install ourselves in the Abrasax building in time for Miss Jones' meeting with Titus tomorrow morning, we need to assemble the rest of the team and get moving. Mr. Wise?"

He snapped to attention, giving Juipter a glimpse of Caine Wise, the soldier. "Yes, ma'am?"

"You have your instructions."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You've contacted Titus?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

She mimicked him. "Agent Nesh will join you and Miss Jones at your apartment tomorrow morning to get wires in place. You have everything you need?"

Caine scowled a little. "I'm sorry – who will be bringing Miss Jones to my apartment?"

"You will – she'll be staying with you tonight."

Caine's eyebrows shot up so high they almost collided with his hairline, and he turned to Jupiter. "Why?"

"Your task was to retrieve Miss Jones," explained Agent Tsing. "You said Titus didn't give you any money up front; how would an otherwise unemployed private investigator afford other accommodations?"

He lifted a shoulder to shrug, but couldn't come up with a reply. He caught Jupiter's eye, but she didn't appear bothered by the notion.

"You've got a couch, I presume?"

Caine turned back to Agent Tsing. "Yes – yeah, it's . . . it's fine." He cleared his throat. "It'll be fine."

"Good." The agent nodded cheerily. "We'll see you all tomorrow morning, then."

The evening went by in a kind of faint daze for Caine. It wasn't that he didn't like Jupiter – he liked her very much. Too much, for having known her less than twenty-four hours. He'd fought with himself every moment in her presence, since he'd picked her up, unconscious, from the concrete outside Katherine Dunlevy's apartment: not to reach for her hand in the car; not to put a guiding hand on her lower back walking into the pancake house; not to feather his fingers into her hair and hold her close when Captain Tsing first asked for her help. Carrying her from the abandoned house downtown to his car had been difficult. Having her in his shitty little apartment, where her scent would linger, was going to be torture.

They stopped at a Target on the way back to Chicago, where Caine lived, so Jupiter could pick up some fresh clothes. Once they reached his apartment, he paused at the door.

"Would you mind if I just tidied up a little?" he asked.

"Oh – I'm sure it's not so bad. I clean houses for a living, remember. I've seen it all." She smiled, trying to put him at ease, but it didn't work.

"I'm just going to tidy up a minute." He opened the door, and left her and her Target bag outside. Jupiter wondered what he could possibly have laying around that he didn't want her to see, and then considered how long she'd known him, and chose not to think about it any longer.

Five minutes later he'd opened the door for her. It really was tiny – not much more than a space for a couch, a table, and the smallest kitchen Jupiter had ever seen. "Cozy," she said brightly.

"It's a shithole," he replied frankly.

"It's clean," she replied, turning to face him. "Very tidy. And I've still seen worse."

He smiled a little, and gestured to a little hallway. "The bathroom is the door on the right. My bedroom's on the left." He cleared his throat and paused, looking uncertain when he continued. "I would . . . I would really appreciate it if you didn't go into it."

Jupiter had absolutely no idea what to think of that request, except that it threw up a giant red flag. Logically she had no reason to believe there was anything in that room except his privacy, which he probably cherished. But Jupiter lived in a house full to bursting with people, and she knew secrets never led to anything good. Maybe Stinger had a good reason to treat him like he did.

She nodded, disquieted. "No – of course not. I mean, this wasn't exactly your choice."

He apparently didn't want to discuss it any further, however. "Are you hungry?"

Jupiter was, and she changed into pajamas, brushed her hair, and washed her face in the little bathroom while he cooked. He presented the spaghetti to her, as neatly as anything else she'd seen him touch. He waited for her to start before he picked up his fork.

Now that she'd had an opportunity to rest, and wash, and eat, her head wouldn't quiet down. She'd learned a lot, in the space of a day, and though she thought she'd wanted to know where she'd come from all those weeks ago when she spit into a vial and mailed it off, with Katherine's name on the box, maybe she didn't. If these people were as messed up as they seemed to be, any kind of inheritance aside, she wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

And she liked Caine – he'd been more than just kind to her, he'd taken care of her – but what did she know about him, really? Anyone, given the right motivation, could please, even those they didn't like.

She was startled when Caine spoke, his voice was low and encouraging. "What's on your mind, Jupiter?"

She put her fork down and met his eyes, drawing a deep breath in and then back out again. "I'm sorry, but . . . Stinger said that you . . . hit your wife."

Caine's curious scowl turned hard in an instant. "Gordon talks too much."

"I know it's none of my business, but . . . I don't exactly know who to trust. I'm just afraid, for myself and my family, and I want to understand."

His eyes softened, and he put his hands in his lap. "Look, the truth is, I don't know what happened. I don't remember doing it." He looked away, shaking his head. "I got back from Afghanistan and . . . everything was upside down. Nothing was right anymore, not even Kallie. She always wanted to be taken care of . . . and suddenly she was taking care of me. And I knew she hated it but there was nothing I could do. And I was on so many medications, and. . . ." He drew a deep breath and seemed to realize he was rambling. He shook his head, and then looked at her again. "And the drinking didn't help. So. I don't remember ever hitting her. Doesn't mean I didn't, because I don't remember much of anything. I'd love to be able to tell you that I'm not dangerous, but I don't know that. My head's all kinds of screwed up. If you're worried, you can keep in mind that Stinger knows where you are. Wouldn't surprise me if he had a bug in here somewhere."

Jupiter, feeling rather like she'd intruded into something she shouldn't have, nodded and quietly replied, "Okay."

"For what it's worth?"

She turned her face up to his and raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

"Outside the military, I never hit anyone before, or since. And I don't drink anymore, either."

She bit her lower lip. "Thank you."