Leon's video message for Imogen was sweet as could be – a little too sweet for Jack's taste. He'd never liked, nor met a woman who, deep in her heart, honestly preferred, lovey-dovey, you're my whole heart, I think about you every minute, every flower I see makes me think of you kind of crap.

Other than the meaningless teenage love poetry, the message was simple enough. This is Jack, he's my friend, you can trust him. I'm on my way to Carson City; I'll send for you; say hi to Hector for me.

Sad little Hector had perked up at the mention of his name. All but wagged his tail. The sight upset Jack. Here was a friendship headed for disaster. How cruel of Leon to not have ended it sooner. He'd let Hector keep his hopes, but abandoned him, taking advantage of his friend's crush to get him to protect Imogen, whom Hector had to see as a rival. The whole thing stank.

Nice to know Leon wasn't perfect, though. Meant hurting his feelings later would be easier.

Imogen obviously didn't notice any misconduct in Leon. She was buzzing, bouncing, glowing with delight, and after the hologram flickered off, she leapt to her feet and pulled Hector into a squealing, spinning hug. Wasn't hard for Jack to let himself be pulled into it, to let Imogen squeeze his chest and kiss his cheek and generally get drunk and affectionate on the cocktail that was Leon Sands.

"Thank you, Mr. Jack," the girl said, spinning him around a few more times in a happy dance, and tossing him into a chair at a table overburdened with rich food. Most of it was meat, so Jack couldn't eat it, but he didn't mention that; just picked up an apple and watched the princess wriggle with joy.

She'd removed her disguise – cleaned away the sallow makeup and freed her hair, which had fallen board-straight after only a few brush strokes, despite being tightly curled and pinned under the wig for hours. A true beauty, this one. Auburn and tan. Tall and fresh and clean.

"It's really, really impossible for me to thank you enough," she was saying in a chirpy schoolgirl voice, all pretense at queenliness gone. "Anything you want, anything – eat some more, god, you've got to be starving – Hector'll set up a room for you, we'll say you're his guest – your clothes'll be dry cleaned, or we can even get you new ones – and here, I've got money, take some, and I'll give you more for Leon, he must be almost out."

"First thing I'm worried about, princess," said Jack, "Is my animals. Anyplace I can unload them?"

"Yes, yes, of course!" cried Imogen.

Hector was assigned to the project of taking Jack's wagon to a deep corner of the maze garden that covered a quarter-mile of Castle Santa Clara's massive backyard. The place was normally a park, but it had been closed to the public since Imogen's marriage scandal, to help keep paparazzi at bay, and was abandoned enough that the animals could safely get out there and stretch their legs.

Just like that, the princess and the cowboy were alone, and the princess was pushing champagne on him.

Just like that, with three toasts to Leon, he'd gotten three glasses of it down her throat, and she was blushing and beaming.

Just like that, he was seated next to her instead of across from her, leaning in confidentially.

"He's a good man," Jack said. "Saved my life – got me out of an Infinity Loop. I owe him everything. But if I'd known, I'd have come anyway."

"Known what?"

God almighty. This girl was a perfect match for Leon, all wide-eyed innocence, walking right into traps.

"About you," he said. His arm was draped over the top of her chair. Not touching her, but he could bring it over her shoulders any second he chose, and it was hard to notice she hadn't scooted away from him.

"What about me?"

"How you're loyal. Brave. Kind. And what a beautiful woman you are. Crazy he didn't mention it."

"He… didn't?" Imogen straightened, and, a second too late, added a fake laugh to cover the genuine offense in her voice, her face. She was drunk; her reflexes and acting ability were shot.

"Didn't say much about you at all, except the facts. The marriage, that he had a responsibility to talk to you, to get you out of Cali."

"A responsibility?" The girl leaned back in her chair, frowning. Jack was pleased to see she raised her champagne glass to her lips again, almost unconsciously. "I hope he's not thinking about it that way. He shouldn't. I'm not anybody's responsibility; as long as I know where he is, I can get to him on my own."

"Sure," said Jack. "You're resourceful. I'm sure he didn't mean it like that. He must know a girl like you can get anything she sets her mind to."

Imogen smiled, but she was only half-listening, her gaze fixed somewhere on the wallpaper.

Seed of doubt. Of hurt. An unexpected, tiny blow to the self-esteem. A little alcohol. A strong shoulder to lean on. Jack would have felt sorry for the girl, so susceptible, so soft-minded, if he hadn't known very well that women had their own set of strengths, which they used mercilessly on honest men like his buddy Leon.

Who he really, really was doing a favor.

By slipping his arm off Imogen's chair and onto her shoulders.

"Honey," he said, "Didn't mean no offense. And he didn't either. Nobody could think a woman like you was a burden."

She hadn't even noticed his touch. Or was pretending not to. Probably the latter. Ladies were plenty observant of men's signals, even while drunk, and they were masters of pretending not to be.

"What did Leon tell you about me?" she asked. "I think about him so much. Been filming messages for him, they're on a hard drive in my room, I'll get them for you… Hope it's not cruel to want him to miss me as much as I miss him."

"How could he not, little lady?"

He pulled her into what could pass for a brotherly half-hug, but could be more, if you squinted. Held it. Let his thumb brush against her, up and down.

She stiffened. Jack released the squeeze, put his boots on the table, kept casual.

Not too fast, or she'd get skittish; with girls who fancied themselves faithful, you had to let them do most of the work.

"But you know how Leon is," he added coolly. "He didn't tell me much about you, but then, he's not a talker, is he?"

Imogen frowned. "He… I've found he usually is. A talker."

Jack coughed. "Must've been hard for you, here alone," he said quickly, pretending to be sorry about the roundabout insult. "They treatin' you right?"

"Oh, yes. I mean, I had to agree to some unreasonable terms to get the ankle monitor off, but it was worth it."

"Unreasonable? What'd they do to you?"

He sat up, leaned in, searched her face, let deep concern shine out of his large eyes. Let her get a good look at his long, straight nose, his sculpted mouth.

Let his eyes flicker to her lips.

Just a second. Nothing, really. Enough to plant the idea.

And when she shook her head, saying, "I'm fine," he dropped back. Even removed his arm from her shoulder.

He still hadn't done anything inappropriate. She'd think she'd imagined it, couldn't accuse him of flirting… but the possibility was now there. He saw goosebumps rise on her collarbone, across her chest, as he snapped the tension, turning back to the food.

Sometimes Jack hated himself for being so good.

"I've had to make appearances with Travis McGowan. Scum of the earth. As a condition of losing my ankle monitor," Imogen clarified. "And they want more from me. He wants more. Every day. They haven't hurt me yet, but someday, it'll come to that."

"Must be hard. And lonely. Leon doesn't complain much about it, but you know, it's worse for women, being separated."

"It has been hard," she conceded. "You'll carry a message back for me? Tomorrow? I'll pay you, of course, more than pay you, just please, make sure he gets it. This can't go on much longer, or they'll try to force me to marry Travis, and I'll have to run before Leon's ready to meet me."

"Darlin'," said Jack. He placed his cup on the table, his boots on the ground, and made her face him, holding her hands. She pretty much had to look into his eyes. "Listen here. No one's gonna force you to do anything. Not while Leon's alive. Not while I'm alive. You hear?"

She obviously heard. Her eyes were shining.

"Thank you," she said. "For helping us. For helping him. I'm glad he's found a friend like you."

And here it was. He could read her thoughts, sense her feelings, as easily as if she'd been one of his animals, and they'd been connected electronically.

She was drunk, full of love. Thinking of Leon, maybe, but Leon wasn't here, was he? Jack was. And Jack was handsome and a bit scary, all in black, with his cowboy hat and goatee. Facing her. Inches away, holding her hands. Offering to protect her. Staring into her eyes. The tension between them pulled tight, drawing them together, and just like that, his lips were on hers.

Call it weakness, sure, women who cheated always cried about being weak. Being drunk. But they knew what they were doing. They wanted it. Every last –

The champagne bottle shattered against Jack's head.

For a moment, his brain scrambled, pulled ten different directions. There was liquid – not champagne, but blood, blood mixed with glass – in his dermal implants, sparking, warping the signals. He was a mouse, no, six mice, each curled in a different position in his own boot. He was Henrietta, placidly picking berries off a hedge maze. He was the tiger, hungry, staring down at the jackelope and doing a primitive cost-benefit analysis – how much trouble would he get in with Jack for eating his friend, and how good would his friend taste?

Through twenty eyes, then none, then his own, but with double vision, he saw that he had made a tiny mistake.

And that this woman was more like Leon than he'd imagined. Both halves of the couple had now violently laid him on his back, and he was going to have to start paying better attention to who he dropped his guard around.

Blink. Blink. Two blurry Imogens resolved themselves into one, standing over him, shaking, pointing the business end of the broken bottle in his face.

"Who are you." Asked like a true royal. No question mark attached. It was an order to talk.

"Princess," he said. "Don't do anything foolish, now. I couldn't help myself."

"You dare," she said, and the bottle moved closer. "You dare!"

Gently, cautiously, Jack brushed the back of his hand against the bottle. He hoped she'd put it aside, and he wouldn't have to try to take it by force.

She stabbed at his hand, and he snatched it back. Raised both arms over his head in "surrender" position.

"Call the guards," he said, "And they'll find that message from Leon. You'll be back in shackles in no time. But listen – I'm not threatening. Just saying, don't escalate this. I went too far. Shouldn't've kissed you. Darlin'. Don't hate me. I meant everything I said. I'm Leon's friend, and yours. Would hurt you for all the-"

"Leave," she snarled.

Hiss went the door, and now Hector was in the room.

"What the?"

"Quiet," snapped Imogen. "Don't call anyone. Don't fire that, it'll bring the whole castle. Jack was just leaving."

Hector came into view, pointing a tiny gun, an acid-plug, at Jack's face.

The cowboy could almost have laughed. His gun was still at his hip, a good old-fashioned six-shooter, and he hadn't lived decades out in the wastes by being a slow draw. Had he thought for a minute that either one of these two had the guts to use their weapons, he could shoot them through the heads before the sight of his hand moving was processed by their brains.

But he didn't. He let them keep their weapons in their wobbly grip while he rose an inch at a time, hands still raised, apologizing the whole time.

"You gotta believe me, Princess," he said at last, once standing. "I shouldn't have done it, but it wasn't meant to hurt nobody. You were right, I've been alone in the desert too long, and here was a beautiful woman, smiling at me… Thought you wanted it."

"Thought I wanted to cheat on my husband?" she said. "A man who trusted you? Thought I would dream of, of even kissing another man? Listen to me, cowboy. I'm the princess of California. I know how to keep my word. If I'd married a bump on a log, there's not a proof of liquor in the world that could make me cheat on it. As it is, I'm married to Leon Sands, the bravest, most honorable, kindest, handsomest human on the planet. To get me in anyone else's bed, especially yours, you'd have to kill me. Don't carry any message back to Leon. Don't speak to him again. You liar. You creep."

"Now, see here…"

"Quiet."

She tossed him his hat, which he caught, causing Hector to twitch. Jack almost got a face full of acid.

"Princess, one thing before I go," he said. "You recorded vids to send to Leon. I can get them to him. Don't let my mistake hurt him – he'll want to hear from you. You're all he talks about."

"Funny," said Imogen. "Five minutes ago he'd barely mentioned me. You're a liar, Anahuac Jack, and you'd better hope I never find Leon, because if I do, I'll tell him what you tried, and he'll make a necklace for me out of your teeth."

The woman was breathing hard, and Jack, absurdly, found himself more attracted to her than he had been a few minutes ago. Maybe because a few minutes ago, leaning in to kiss her, he'd thought her like the other women he'd known: flaky, vain, fickle.

But Imogen was everything Leon thought she was. A beauty, a trooper, and as faithful as they came.

"I'll show myself out," said Jack. "Don't hate me, your majesty. If you ever think of me again, try to believe, to consider, how truly sorry I am to have upset you."

He bowed low, spun, and hustled out the door. Blinders stared as his boot-clicks echoed down the hall, but he looked neither left nor right, and security didn't get called.

The animals were already loading themselves back in the wagon.