Tay looked up to see a harried man wearing an ill-fitting suit enter the room and take a seat in the hard-backed chair across from her. Other than the narrow wooden table there was nothing else in the room. She placed her hands on the table and wrapped her legs around the rungs of her chair to keep them from shaking although the man didn't look particularly intimidating. In fact, the confused look on his face as he flipped through the notes in front of him gave the impression that he was far from dangerous. But she had learned not to trust anyone.

"So, Miss...um," the man began and ran his finger over the top sheet until he found the information, "Murphy?"

Tay nodded. She knew it wouldn't be long until someone figured out the last name was a lie but there were enough Murphys in the city to keep anyone looking busy for quite awhile. Taking on the name of the guard who had once tormented her hadn't been her best idea but she'd drawn a blank at the time of her arrest.

"Agent Walsh," the man said, introducing himself. "Magistrate Teale has asked me to investigate your situation on behalf of the Society. And of course, notify you of the repercussions."

She should have just gone home. The overworked goody two shoes in front of her was not part of the plan. When Tay had finally made the decision to leave Spot she had imagined it would go quite differently. She had seen plenty of girls arrested for vagrancy, but she assumed the punishment would be no different than it had been the first time she'd been arrested. There'd be a quick trial, she'd be sent off to the Refuge, and enough time would pass that she'd be able to come up with a better plan than hiding out for the rest of her life. Being treated to some half-ass hand wringing by some paper pusher who was clearly out of his league didn't interest her. All she wanted to know was where she was going and how far away from Spot she could get.

The man shuffled through some of the documents. "You didn't provide an address at the station house when you were arrested."

"Ain't got one." The weight of the handcuffs was rubbing her wrists raw and Tay tried to adjust them to no avail.

"Of course," Myers said dismissively. He closed the folder and sat back in his chair. "I'm afraid that unless you can provide a proper address I'll have to consider you a ward of the state. And in that case, Magistrate Teale has no choice but to place you under the protection of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children-"

"That's a mouthful," Tay muttered.

"-As for the incident that brought you to his attention, it is his judgement that you be confined to the House of the Good Shepherd for three months to take responsibility for your actions and reform."

"Is that in Brooklyn?" Tay asked. What the hell was the point of keeping her in Brooklyn? At least the Refuge was outside of Spot's territory even if it was just another version of hell on earth. She'd expected to be sent there, not kept in Brooklyn where he could easily find out where she was.

"It is."

"Don't you have somewhere else you can send me?"

"I'm sure you'll find the reformatory is an adequate facility. I suggest you take the time given to you to work on becoming a better member of society. Instead of a thief and a liar."

Agent Myers left as quickly as he had arrived, leaving Tay alone in the room with her thoughts.


"Home sweet home."

The reformatory Tay was sent to wasn't prison or the Refuge but she quickly discovered that it may as well have been. The 'penitents', as they were called, were not allowed to talk to one another and any deviation from the grueling routine was met with swift and forceful punishment. Not that any of it bothered Tay very much as the monotonous daily schedule was the only thing that seemed to keep her mind from straying into the dark corners of her heart. After three months she had found herself still struggling to adjust to her new life. Tay leaned her head back against the wall and stared across at the low burning lamp until that one small flame was all she could see in the otherwise darkened room. She had five minutes. Five minutes until the lamp would be turned out and the whole room would plunge into darkness. Tay bit at her fingernails and tried to think of something else, anything else but she knew there was no escape.

Nights had always been troubling and Tay often struggled to quiet the thoughts that would race through her mind. It had been easier with Spot although she couldn't imagine a single person who would have believed her if she tried to explain how Spot managed to calm her fears. She recalled the few times she'd mentioned it to Race but even then she hadn't been able to find the words. Most of the time Spot hadn't needed to say anything, it had been enough to wake up and find him next to her. She'd curl up against him and the worries that plagued her seemed to lessen. Even those nights when Spot hadn't been there she'd always found something to keep her mind off the darkness. The waves lapping gently against the shore, the boats out on the water, the sounds of other kids who used the ramshackle docks as their shelter. But within the locked bunk room of the reformatory there was no peace of mind. Just like every other night it felt as though someone had torn a hole in her heart and there was no repairing it. Tay was utterly consumed by the memories of the boy she'd left behind. It would have made life so much easier if she has just been able to forget. Tay recalled the night Spot had been hurt and realized it had been the turning point in her decision to leave.


"They was closed."

"Sure, doll."

She'd returned to the room empty handed after he'd sent her out for food but they had both understood it was just an excuse. Tay walked across the room to the side of the bed as though she was being tugged along by an invisible thread. A clean linen bandage covered Spot's wound and Tay reached out gingerly to touch it without thinking. She'd seen him hurt before and as Tay sat on the edge of the bed she eyed the older scars that were scattered across Spot's arms and chest. His were different than hers and told different stories. Some he would talk about while others she knew better than ask him about.

She reached into her bag and set a small bottle on the nightstand next to the bed but Spot frowned at her.

"I don't need that shit."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Yeah, you been a great help lately." His words were sharp and Tay felt hurt as he lashed out at her even as she expected nothing less. Spot had always been reluctant to depend on anyone and so she knew he resented the hell out of her bringing Race into the situation. Tay had learned long ago that Spot wasn't invincible. After all, she had tended to more than enough of his injuries to recognize that while Spot could hold his own for the most part, there were times when he was in over his head. Those moments had been few and far apart but since the miscarriage Tay had felt a sense of dread and her worry over losing Spot consumed her every waking moment. That newly stitched up gash was still too fresh in her mind and it caused her to realize just how close she'd come to losing him.

She was startled to feel Spot's hand on her cheek where she'd been struck earlier in the fight and tried to brush him off but Spot was persistent. "Did he hurt you bad?'

"No worse than what you ever did," Tay snapped, still smarting over Spot's remark about her help.

"You should have stayed out of it." She'd expected some violent response or rude comment but instead it was almost as though he regretted the fact that she'd been hurt. The irony wasn't lost on Tay and she mulled over the absurdity of his regretting her being injured by someone else when he had never once shown any hesitation using his hands or his words to hurt her.

"Yeah," Tay agreed quietly. If she'd been able to stay out of things, then everything would have been so very different, maybe even better. It occurred to her that the only way to stop any of it was to leave him. She nearly gasped as the startling realization hit her and she drew back away from Spot to the opposite side of the room. They would keep coming for her, for him, unless…


Darkness surrounded her in the damp, frigid cell and Tay shivered violently as she awoke to another day in solitary confinement. She curled up against the stone wall and heard the familiar metal clinking of the chain that led from her wrists to the wall behind her. The shackles weren't really necessary as there was no way to pry open the heavy metal door imprisoning her but the nuns weren't known for taking any chances. The shapeless wool garment Tay wore had begun to smell and her stomach roiled in disgust. It was the same uniform provided to all the penitents and did little to protect them from the cold, especially in the dank basement cells where the most troublesome penitents were kept. Tay's lips were chapped and the exhaustion she felt combined with the temperature made her very bones ache but there was no relief. The nuns provided a few crusts of bread and a cup of water whenever they seemed to remember she was there but otherwise it could be days before she'd receive any sustenance. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed and Tay had begun to imagine that if she tried hard enough, she could just disappear into nothingness. After all, the purpose of the reformatory seemed to be to dehumanize every poor soul trapped within. Tay recalled with horror the sounds of the cries that had emanated from the infirmary after one poor soul had tried to escape by tying bedsheets together and ended up falling four stories to the ground below. It had taken the girl three days to die.


"Look, it's easy, okay? All you gotta do is take this and bring it to Mouth's sister." Tay held her own bag out in front of her but Mouse didn't seem inclined to take it.

"I don't know…"

"You want the damn dime or not?"

"But Spot said…"

"I know what Spot said. I'll take care of that part. C'mon, Mouse, it'll be fine."

The younger newsie shuffled from one foot to the other and glanced back over his shoulder as though he expected to see Spot standing there. Tay understood Mouse was taking a chances by doing her such a favor but her time was limited and she didn't have time to bat the issue around.

"I'll tell you what, if you do me this favor, I'll give you two dimes. " Mouse frowned as he concentrated on what she was saying and Tay rolled her eyes impatiently. " And I'll buy you an ice cream."

Tay almost smiled as the kid's eyes lit up in anticipation. It was kind of nice to find there was still someone in Brooklyn who could get enjoyment from something as simple as an ice cream. Mouse had always managed to keep a hold on childish delights and sometimes he reminded her of some of the Manhattan newsies she'd once met like Boots and David's little brother, Les.

"Deal," Mouse grinned as he grabbed the bag and darted off at top speed toward the bridge.

Tay's gut twisted as she realized that by the time he made it back to Brooklyn she planned on being long gone. She'd done her best to stay true to her word and had already left the money she owed him with the matron of the lodging house with instructions about getting it to Mouse but she wondered if he'd ever even see it. What she had failed to see was a pair of icy blue eyes watching her every move from the rooftop across the street.


The iron manacles had rubbed her skin raw but all she had been able to feel for months had been pain and anguish so solitary confinement had been nothing new. It really wasn't much of a punishment considering the fact that whether they locked in her in a pitch black cell or a bunk room made no difference to Tay. At first she'd thought time and distance would help heal her wounds but it had been over a year and she still found herself thinking about Spot on a daily basis. For the first few weeks she'd pretended there was a chance he'd reply to her letter but eventually she realized she'd given him too much credit. After all, had she really expected him to be able to get past the barriers no one else had been able to breach? He didn't even read it. He hates you. Why would he read a letter you wrote? You betrayed him. Everything was a lie. It was all a game. You lost. You always will. The same thoughts echoed in Tay's mind, over and over again until she'd given up on any belief that she could silence them. Her feelings of guilt, grief, and despair were more than she was able to fight against but there were no longer any tears, just an unending numbness that she wrapped herself up inside and tried to forget about the rest of the world. Eventually, she drifted off into a restless sleep. Her dreams were chaotic, made up of warped memories and haunting images. She'd see herself standing on the dock above the river as the moon rose higher in the sky. For that moment everything seemed peaceful but then the stars spun above her in the sky, leaving her feeling sick and confused. The smell of alcohol burned her nose and mouth, she looked down to see her fingers slick with blood. Cerulean eyes glimmered in the moonlight as she found herself standing in front of Spot. A gun skittered across the ground, coming to rest at Tay's feet. A baby's laugh floated across the air toward her and she pressed her hands against her ears. Water crept up and rushed over her feet, then her ankles, and her dress became heavier and heavier as the sea rose up around her. Spot only stood watching stone-faced as the water pulled her under. She tried to scream but no sound came out as the water rose over her head and there was nothing but darkness.


Race landed on his back and rubbed gingerly at his jaw, feeling blood fill his mouth. He spat it out to one side in disgust and got back on his feet. Race had known this day was coming for some time. If he was honest with himself, he would have admitted he was surprised that Spot's patience had held out this long. It had to have been a new record given that Race had kept the secret for almost a year and that afternoon was the first time Spot had demanded information. Another shot had Race flat on his back again and this time he had the sense to stay down. He knew if Spot had wanted to kill him, he'd have done it already.

As the ringing in Race's ears subsided he wiped the blood off his lip with his shirtsleeve and looked up to see Spot leaning casually against the opposite wall as though nothing had happened. Arrogant bastard. Race sat up carefully, checking for any broken bones or missing teeth. There didn't seem to be any which meant only one thing. He had been right all along, this was merely a warning.

"We finished here? 'Cause I got people to see," Race explained. He affected a relaxed attitude as though getting soaked by Spot was just another routine part of his day.

"Depends on you," Spot shrugged with his trademark smirk. Race gritted his teeth at the sight but quickly regretted it as the sharp pain reminded him of his newly bruised jaw. "I want to know where she is, Higgins."

"And here I was thinking this was about that kid from the Bronx. You know me, always bettin' on the wrong horse. How was I supposed to know the kid had a glass chin? He was the size of a barn," Race joked although he knew it wasn't the answer Spot was looking for. Since leaving selling newspapers behind Race had managed to set himself up a nice little job in one of the gambling rings near Sheepshead. His line of work meant that he'd often run into Spot since the younger boy had become infamous for his ability to take care of certain problems from those who 'forgot' to pay tribute at the track to some poor sod who'd slept with the wrong man's wife. Since the night Race had been summoned to the reformatory up on Pacific Avenue and been made responsible for a certain young woman (even if it meant just signing a forged document), he'd tried his best to stay under Spot's radar but it seemed his time was up.

"It was taken care of. Don't go getting twisted up about it." Spot's tone was almost light-hearted. Race thought he saw a glimmer of the boy Spot was before Tay had left but it was gone again as Spot's eyes turned cold, his smile faded.

"She came to me, not the other way around. For what it's worth," Race explained as he gathered himself together and got to his feet. Even as he said it Race realized that it didn't really matter. Not to Spot. It was about control. Race had watched Spot practically self-destruct after Tay had left and he'd felt a small twinge of sympathy thinking back on Spot's chaotic behavior during those two years while Tay had been gone. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper before scrawling an address across it quickly. Spot eyed the paper greedily but managed to keep from snatching it out of Race's hand and took on an air of ambivalence when he saw Race looking over at him.

"There's something you should know first," Race stated hesitantly.

"Like I said before, all I need to know is where she is, Higgins."

"Just listen for once," Race told him. His stomach flip-flopped as he considered the fact that he was about to betray a girl he considered a friend but he also recalled that the first question she'd asked him when they'd stepped outside the reformatory gates was the whereabouts of the boy he'd just recently taken a beating from. "There's someone else, all right? She's been seeing him for awhile now and…it's pretty serious. He's planning on asking her to marry him."

"And?" Spot asked with a look of pure boredom although Race had a feeling it was all an act. Spot's entire demeanor had changed the moment Race had started writing and try as he might, it was clear that Spot was struggling to hold himself back from ripping the paper out of Race's hand and taking off without a further word.

"And I don't want you ruining it for her," Race explained. He considered the scrap of paper for a moment before folding it in half and handing it out to Spot. As Spot reached out to take it, Race drew back for a split second before letting it go. "Don't hurt her."

Spot didn't even give him a second glance as he tucked the paper into his pocket and turned his back. Race rolled his eyes and wondered how on earth he was going to explain his bruised face to his wife.


It had to be some kind of curse or magic spell that she had inadvertently brought to life by thinking about him or saying his name one too many times. At first she thought she might have imagined him but it was no trick. Spot Conlon stood there on the front stoop of her building just as naturally as if he'd been there every day of his life. Tay was far enough away that she could have just turned and left. Or continued past the building where she rented a room and found someplace else to stay for the night. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd neglected to turn up. Tay thought briefly of continuing on down the street but decided to brush past Spot up the steps as though she hadn't even seen him.

"Tay." She stopped dead just as she'd placed the key in the locked door. One twist and she'd be inside but instead she slipped the key into her pocket and turned to face him. It was the first time she'd been face to face with him in nearly three years and she took a moment to note how he had changed. He was taller, more muscular with the same sharp, watchful eyes that made her believe he could see right through her.

"What do you want?" Tay asked. She crossed her arms and planted herself on the top step, unwilling to give him any impression that she wanted to hear his answer.

"I wanted to see you," Spot answered. Tay was stunned by the vulnerability in his voice but she kept her guard up.

"Well, you've seen me." Tay reached down and held onto the key for a moment, willing herself to place it back in the lock, open the door, and leave Spot standing there. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going inside and you can go-"

"Are you going to marry him?"

Tay's heart froze in her chest and what was only a brief moment felt like eternity as Spot stood silently waiting for an answer. He wasn't even looking at her, instead he kept his eyes down while kicking idly at the step above him. That alone was enough to tell Tay that something was very, very wrong as Spot had never been in the habit of behaving like that.

"It's none of your concern," Tay finally managed to force herself to answer. She felt like slapping herself. Why hadn't she just told him that the answer was 'yes'? Yes, she was going to marry him. Yes, she was going to marry the man who had never even raised a hand to her. A man who had never killed anyone or hurt anyone. She was going to marry that man so she could finally break free and fill the hole in her heart. But for some reason the words stuck in her throat and Tay began to grow frustrated. "Just go away."

"Well, you certainly ain't learned any manners to go with those pretty clothes. Now are you going to invite me in?" Spot smirked. "Or would you prefer to continue discussing our business out here? If there's one thing you and I both know, it's how much people around here love to gossip."

"We don't have any business."

"I beg to differ, doll." Tay's shoulders stiffened at his use of her old nickname and Spot seemed to understand he was on thin ice.

"Don't call me that," Tay ordered. She looked up at the tenement windows and imagined how it must have looked to any of the busy bodies inside. There she was, nearly engaged, standing on the steps talking to a man who she was not in a relationship with. The whole thing was absurd and so like Spot. She was going to kill Racetrack. It was clearly his doing and she was going to have more than a few words with him about it.

"If you want, there's someplace I know where we can go," Spot told her. He placed his foot on the step above and held his hand out to Tay. "Please."

In seven years she had never heard Spot use the word 'please'. She wasn't even sure it was part of his vocabulary. In all the time she'd known him he'd never asked her to do anything. He'd ordered, or forced, or demanded but he never asked. Even when he'd given her a choice, it had never really been her decision. Upon hearing his request Tay was too stunned to do anything but take his hand and let him lead her down to the street.

There weren't very many people out that night and Tay picked up on the fact that Spot was leading her, not to the waterfront as she had originally assumed, but toward across town toward a well established neighborhood. Neither one spoke the entire walk even though Tay had a million questions running through her mind. But she was busily trying to convince herself that she hadn't just made a colossal mistake. It didn't matter that he had asked, that he had said 'please. She should have laughed in his face. She wasn't sixteen anymore, he had no power over her. It wasn't fair and she couldn't bear to think about how her gentleman friend would feel if he found out she was with another boy.

Spot paused in front of an apartment building and glanced quickly over at Tay before climbing the stairs and opening the door for her. With trepidation Tay followed Spot up a narrow set of stairs to the second floor. The room was sparse but neat and it was in far better condition than Tay expected. She noticed that Spot hadn't moved from where he stood just inside the closed door. Tay surveyed the room and the realization slowly hit her that he'd taken her to his apartment.

"What are we doing here?" Tay asked without turning back to Spot.

"What does he call you?" Spot asked in a low voice. The question was surprising as Tay had imagined that, like her previous relationships, Spot already had all the information he wanted.

"What?" Tay asked. She was confused for a moment as she still wasn't sure what to do with this particular version of Spot Conlon. If she didn't know better she might have said he seemed apprehensive and his usual arrogance had been replaced by something quieter but just as dangerous.

"What does he call you?"

"Kate." Even after all that time the name did not slip easily off her tongue. It was her third name in less than ten years and it was the first time she'd chosen a name that had no connection to her family or to her past. With the new name had come a whole new personal history that allowed Tay to cut ties with her past. The fact that everything she had with Patrick was built on a lie kept her up at night, staring into the dark as she tried to make excuses for herself.

"Not Anna?" Spot asked and Tay could just barely make out the slightly hopeful edge in his voice. His whole attitude was still resigned but Tay thought she could see a small spark of light in his eyes. She wasn't going to bother answering that question.

"This was your plan?" Tay scorned as she crossed to the window and folded her arms over her chest. "You wanted to basically kidnap me, bring me to your apartment, and ask questions you already know the answer to?"

"You came willingly," Spot answered and there was the ghost of smile but it was gone before Tay could react. "And this ain't my apartment."

"So you broke into someone's apartment-"

"It's yours." Tay was too shocked to respond and stood staring at Spot. He nodded toward a partially closed door that Tay had assumed led to the bedroom. She took a hesitant step toward the room while Spot continued, "You want to know why I brought you here, right? It's for you, this place. If you want it."

Tay crossed the room and pushed the bedroom door open. Inside was a space just big enough for a chest of drawers and a bed. Lying across the bed was the same quilt that she and Spot had shared in the first broken down shack they had stayed in. It was patched up and decidedly cleaner but just the sight of it made Tay's heart drop and she was flooded by memories.

"You son of a bitch," Tay swore quietly. Her voice sounded far away and she held tightly to the frame of the door to steady herself. This was not how it was supposed to be. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm not playing at anything," Spot answered. Tay didn't turn but she felt him standing right behind her. "I thought maybe you'd want it. You know, so you can have a place to live after you marry a man who doesn't even know your real name."

Tay finally spun on her heel and found herself inches from Spot, scowling at him as he gazed straight back into her eyes. It was a mistake to get that close to him. Tay felt as though she had slipped into some kind of twisted dream. It wasn't supposed to be that way. None of it mattered anymore. She couldn't put her finger on just what Spot was doing but she was not about to let him mess with her head. Again.

"I don't want it. Any of it," Tay told him coldly. There was no doubt in her mind that the apartment was probably paid for in blood money or the most recent tenant had been evicted by the unsavory people Spot worked for. One of the first things she'd done after leaving the reformatory was collect as much information as she could about Spot. She knew exactly what line of work he was in and it sickened her.

"Did you think we'd live here?" Tay asked. Her voice was full of spite and the words tasted bitter on her tongue. The air in the apartment seemed stifling and she felt a weight pressing down on her chest. It was just another cage, another way to control her.

"No." A flicker of pain passed over his features, disappearing before Tay could even comprehend it. She understood him well enough to know that he wasn't lying. "It's for you. Do what you want with it. Rent it out if you don't want to stay here or live here…with him."

For the first time since she'd met him Tay heard Spot stumble, she heard the hesitation in his voice and it took every ounce of fight right out of her body. She had planned on laughing in his face, telling him exactly what he could do with that apartment but the way he looked at her in that moment made her mind go blank. For the second time that night, Spot reached out first to touch her. He tugged gently at a tendril of her hair that had fallen loose from her braid.

"Tell me you love him." His voice was quiet and Tay noticed Spot kept his eyes on her lock of hair as he twisted it carefully between his fingers. His touch was so familiar and she felt a stirring of emotions that could not be ignored. Tay urged herself to believe that she was imagining things and that Spot was neither as lost nor as broken as he seemed to appear. He was toying with her, playing with her emotions in the same manipulative way he always had. She felt every one of her weaknesses exposed as he stood there, demanding things that he had no right to anymore.

Tay's heart beat furiously in her chest and she took a breath before opening her mouth but the words wouldn't come out. It was all too much, standing there with the boy who had caused damage that could never be forgotten or forgiven. After all that, after everything he'd done, he'd left her. The world had crumbled around her and she'd felt numb. When she'd left the reformatory she shut the door to her past and tried to ignore the constant yearning for Spot. It wasn't fair or right and yet it was exactly what she should have expected. Spot had always claimed to know Tay better than she knew herself. Tay struggled against her feelings but the dam inside broke as tears rushed down her cheeks and she beat her fists against his chest as Spot stood immobile.

"Where the hell have you been? Do you know what it was like in there? After everything, after all of it, you just left me there alone." Tay's breathing had become ragged and harsh and she knew there was only one way to make it end. "I love h-"

Spot's mouth covered hers and Tay clutched at the collar of his shirt, afraid that if she didn't keep hold of something she would crumple to the floor. It had been so long since she'd been kissed by him that she'd almost forgotten the dizzying effect Spot had on her. There was the familiar blend of anger, pain, bitterness, and regret. But everything fell away as she felt his hands skim over her body, his arms circling her waist and drawing her so close that she couldn't escape even if she wanted to. Tay could barely register the fact that, for once, Spot seemed to want her just as much as she wanted him. Every part of her knew it was a mistake but she no longer cared about anything else.


Rain splashed against the window and flashes of lightning lit up the sky as Spot awoke and discovered Tay was no longer in the bed beside him. His body went cold at the thought that she had left him and he hurriedly dressed before stepping out the bedroom door to find Tay seated at the narrow kitchen table. In her left hand she held his cigarette case and was flipping the lid open and closed repeatedly as she stared at the surface of the table. The old quilt was clutched around her shoulders and she seemed lost in her own thoughts. Spot stood silently in the doorway, unwilling to be the first to break the awkward silence. That she was still there with him was a relief and he didn't want to disturb the balance in any way. He eyed her for a moment, taking in the small changes that had occurred. It was clear the time she'd spent in that reformatory had broken her and he was pained by the look of anguish in her eyes. Little did she know just how often he had seen her in the days following Race giving him Tay's address. When he'd seen how happy she was lately with the young man Race had warned him about Spot had told himself enough was enough but as it turned out, he wasn't able to let her go quite so easily.

"It's over," Tay told him softly. Her hair hung loose and fell over her eyes as she leaned forward and set the case on the table. For a brief moment he felt pained by the fact that he was utterly responsible for destroying the one good thing she had in her life. He wanted to apologize, to offer her some kind of comfort but he'd known when he'd shown up at Tay's doorstep what the outcome would be. After all, he knew her better than anyone and the reverse was true as well. There was too much history between the two of them for him to even try to lie to her. He hadn't been able to think straight since the moment she'd kissed him. It was as if he had been dead for the past three years and that kiss had brought him back to life. He couldn't even try to claim his intentions had been pure. He should have told her that he'd never meant for her to sleep with him, but he wouldn't take it back. He wouldn't have taken any of it back, not from the moment he met her.

"Can't say I'm surprised," Spot answered as he approached her. "You didn't exactly jump at telling him 'yes'."

Tay stared at him for a moment and let out a low, bitter laugh. "I don't mean me and him. I was talking about us. You and me. It's over."

"You think it's that easy, huh?" Spot scoffed. He reached forward and picked up the case to light himself a cigarette. "We're two sides of the same coin, doll. If you really thought this was over, you'd be gone already."

"I don't suppose you have anything to drink here," Tay said abruptly as her gaze shifted around the room. "This is some, what was that phrase Jack always used when he wanted to make girls blush? Love nest, that's it."

"It ain't like that," Spot argued mildly. He rummaged through the few provisions on the counter and found a small bottle tucked back among them. He set it on the table and took a seat. "There's no glasses."

"How elegant," Tay remarked as Spot concentrated on breaking the seal of the bottle. He was amused to hear her already drop back into her old accent and way of speaking. He offered Tay the first pull and then took his own, trying not to grimace at the cheap taste.

"I thought maybe you were dead," Tay admitted in a low voice before she took a second drink. Her hand trembled slightly as she set the bottle back on the table.

"Ain't from a lack of trying," Spot joked half-heartedly. She looked him over carefully before asking, "What's the scar from?"

He should have known. After all, she knew him better than anyone and after last night it was clear things hadn't changed much. Tay had always had an uncanny knack of perceiving every little change when it came to him.

"Long story." Spot avoided Tay's inquisitive look and took a long drag off the cigarette still in his hand. He was still trying to deal with the fact that after everything he'd gone through he'd almost been taken down by something as simple and small as a bullet. It had been one of the darkest periods of his life and the only thing he wanted to concentrate on was the fact that he was sitting across from the one person he believed capable of saving him.

"That's it?" Tay asked. "You show up on my doorstep after god knows how long and the first thing you want to do is play games? Do you ever plan on growing up?"

"Do you?" Spot countered. "'Cause you might want to think about the fact that you plan on lying to this man for the rest of your life. That's a little childish, don't you think?"

"I lied about my name. It's not a big deal."

"That's all?" Spot didn't blame her for trying to keep secrets from that poor, hapless fool who thought she'd marry him. He'd forced her to keep any number of secrets over the year they'd known each other. But he wasn't about to let her sit there and act like she could just forget or ignore the past.

"Stop it," Tay ordered. After the night they'd just spent together she was going to have to do a lot more than that if she believed he was going to leave her again. There wasn't going to be any engagement. He'd been a bit tense about it before but all that anxiety vanished the moment she had kissed him back. Just the same, if she continued to pretend it had meant nothing and that she planned on going back to that miserable, boring life, then he'd just have to take things a step further.

"There's nothing else you forget to tell him? 'Cause you know damn well he'll try and figure it out at some point," Spot warned. The color drained from Tay's face as Spot's remark hit the intended target. "He'll ask about your family or one day he'll want to know why you go silent when you see a kid playing in the street. On top of everything else he's gonna find it a little funny that his wife calls out the name of another man in the middle of the night."

"I don't do that anymore," Tay argued weakly. She toyed with the label on the bottle, picking at the paper until it came loose in her hand. "And not that it's any of your business but I haven't slept with him. He's a gentleman."

Spot could not hold back a snort of derision and two pinpoints of color stained Tay's cheeks as she glared at him. He felt relieved to see the fire in her eyes. It meant that she wasn't quite as broken as he originally thought and he could work with that.

"Maybe the problem is that while he may be a gentleman, you ain't changed, doll. Maybe that's what you're so sore about," Spot told her in a knowing voice. "I only invited you to talk. You didn't have to say yes and you didn't have to climb into my bed last night, either. So don't go blaming me 'cause it ain't working out with him."

"Your bed? I thought you said this was my place. I seem to remember you not caring much for lies or liars before, so which is it? 'Cause if this is really my place, then get out. I don't want you here."

"You didn't seem to mind sharing the bed earlier."

Tay shoved her chair backward and got to her feet, gripping the back of her chair with an unsteady hand. She'd always been a lightweight when it came to alcohol and he knew she'd taken at least four drinks for each of his one. He stood and crossed to the other side of the table to stand in front of her. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, feeling the scars that would always serve as a reminder of the destruction he was capable of. Tay flinched but didn't attempt to pull away. A piece of him had wanted to curl up and die at the idea of her sharing a bed with another man so he was more than a bit relieved to find out that hadn't happened.

Tay's eyes were bright with anger as she looked up at him. "What did you come here for? To show up after almost a year and point out that I'm a liar? Or that I'm a whore? I'd think you'd be tired of that same old shit by now but I guess I shouldn't expect much from someone who kills for a living."

"That's a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think, doll?"

"I told you not to call me that."

"So you really think you'd just sleep with me and go back to him like everything is the same?" He was perfectly willing to continue pushing her toward the edge until he got exactly what he wanted. "Bet he has a real sweet pet name for you. Bet he even opens doors and holds your hand while you're walking down the street. Ain't that gonna be a pretty picture? You making a home here with him, in the apartment I bought you, sleeping with him in the same bed where you and I—" Tay's eyes darkened and he wasn't at all surprised when she slapped him hard across the face. Spot's cheek stung briefly but he knew it was well deserved.

"Get out," Tay said forcefully. "You got what you wanted so get out. Get out of my sight and don't you ever come near me again."

"I haven't begun to get what I want." It slipped out before Spot could stop it and he'd hoped Tay hadn't caught on to the emotion in his voice. He tried to recover but knew it would only make matters worse. "Tell me something, doll, do you ever wonder when he's gonna realize he's in love with a murderer?"

The rain continued to drum against the windows in the tense silence that followed his statement. It was becoming unbearable and Spot hated the fact that things were getting out of hand so quickly. There was too much history between them and things between them had always been twisted but for reasons he couldn't even explain to himself he wanted things to stay that way.

Spot reached up and brushed his thumb along Tay's jaw line before sliding his fingers down the curve of her neck where he nudged the quilt out of the way. He reached for the worn leather string resting against Tay's skin and her breath caught in her throat as she tried to stop him but it was too late. He'd seen it last night and there was no point in her trying to hide it from him. Spot couldn't help but feel a bit elated seeing that Tay had kept the key all that time. Last night had been enough evidence but it was still good to see that some things would never change. Spot drew closer, leaning in to tell her, "You know how this ends, Anna. So you can stand there and glare at me, slap me, tell me to get out but I know what's in your heart. We both know I'm not going anywhere and neither are you."