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That place wasn’t a house. It was a slum, and a fucking prison slum at that.

But there it is: I’ll take the door of any place like that a hundred times over. That may or may not make me a good cop, but bagging bad guys is the right thing to do.

Proof of that being that Amanda is alive.

And further proof being that bastard Jiménez is on the fast track to serving a life sentence in Graterford.

Following his arrest at the row house, Jesús Jiménez had confessed to killing twenty-seven-year-old J. Warren “Skipper” Olde over what Juan Paulo Delgado claimed was a bad drug debt. In exchange for avoiding the death penalty, Jiménez also ratted out everyone in their small band of thugs in a signed confession.

Payne drained the beer bottle, which helped ease the constriction. Then he grinned as he thought:

Too bad the bastard’s about to become somebody’s bitch.

Jiménez will hope he gets thrown alone in an RHU.

The door to the bathroom swung open and Amanda Law, still starkers, stood momentarily backlit in the doorway.

My God, she’s stunning! Matt thought.

“You take my breath away,” he said. “In more ways than one, it would appear.”

She flashed a sly smile. “That, Romeo, is my evil plan.”

She clicked off the bathroom light and said sweetly to the dog, “Good girl, Luna. Lie down.”

Then she smoothly and swiftly moved across the dimly lit bedroom, completely comfortable in her birthday suit. It reminded Matt of the second time he’d met her, just last month in Liberties Bar, when she seemed to float effortlessly across the well-worn wooden floor. Clothed, of course, but even then he’d been mentally undressing her.

As she crawled back into bed, Matt smelled the delicate floral scent of her perfume. It became stronger as she moved in closer to put a hand on his chest and kiss him on the forehead. He smoothly turned his head so that his lips were on hers. She moaned softy and appreciatively, and then—hearing a brief familiar vibrating sound—made an unhappy groan.

Payne’s eyes turned in the direction of the sound, to the bedside table where he’d left his cell phone. It was set to SILENT/VIBRATE. Its color screen was now casting a pulsing bluish-green glow.

Amanda playfully bit his lower lip and held it as she mumbled, “Don’t you dare get . . .”

Matt, still in her grips, carefully reached for the phone, then held it more or less behind Amanda’s head so he could clearly see its screen.

She bit harder.

Payne grunted as he read the text message on-screen: —BLOCKED NUMBER -

YO, MATTY . HOPE I’M INTERRUPTING SOMETHING REALLY GOOD AT THIS HOUR!

GOT ANOTHER POP-N-DROP AN HOUR AGO. TWO ACTUALLY.

COULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED TO NICER GUYS. YOU KNOW ONE. THE BLACK BUDDHA SAID TO GIVE YOU A HEADS-UP.

CLICK ON FOX29 NEWS. -TH

Matt sighed, then turned his eyes to meet Amanda’s and raised his hands up, palms out.

“I surrender,” he muttered as best he could.

She let loose his lip and slipped back between the sheets.

Her tone sounding disappointed, Amanda said, “I sure hope that’s not what I’m afraid it is. Especially at this hour. Please tell me it’s not work.”

He held the phone out for her to read its screen.

As she did, Matt thought, Someone I know?