“Is John Japanese?”
“He was born there.”
“Are you married?”
“What? No.”
“Oh. You look like you’re married.”
Out of the mouths of babes, she thought. She glanced at him. “I have to watch the road.”
He smiled—an innocent smile, or was there something more in it?—and said, “It’s okay.”
Ten minutes later, they were pulling into a parking lot behind a low-slung, unremarkable collection of office buildings. A few landscape management and auto-repair shops, others with names more suggestive of technology startups. A door to one of the places opened—Dox. Delilah killed the engine and stepped out of the Porsche.
Dox gave her a big grin. “Darlin’， that car’s almost as pretty as you.”
She smiled back, surprised at how good it was to see him, even under the circumstances.
Kanezaki got out of the FedEx truck. Dox gestured to the Porsche and said, “No more Priuses at the rental place?”
Kanezaki laughed. “A friend with a collection.”
The others were getting out now, too. Dox said, “Come on in, y’all. I’ve got too many hugs to give in the parking lot. The rest of the gang is waiting inside.”
They filed in. The first thing Delilah noticed was a horse at the far end of the space, with a pretty Latina—Diaz?—standing alongside it, stroking its shoulder. But before she could process the incongruity, Dox gave her a big hug, then moved on to Kanezaki and Rain, switching to handshakes for Evie, Dash, Manus, and Maya. Once everyone was in, Kanezaki closed and locked the door, then stood at the corner of the window, keeping an eye on the parking lot.
She saw Larison hug Rain, cocking his head at Dox and saying, “His influence.” Rain was smiling and laughing, and she realized how attached he had grown to these people—and how attached she had become, too. For a moment, she felt guilty about having tried to stop him, and was relieved he hadn’t let her.
Livia came over and offered her hand. “Delilah. It’s good to see you.”
Delilah summoned a smile. “And you, Livia.” They shook. With someone else, la bise, the French kiss, would have felt natural, and though they had parted that way the last time they had seen each other, in Paris, in general Livia had a standoffish air, and Delilah had no desire to make either of them uncomfortable.
They might have stood there having not much to say to each other, but Larison came to the rescue. “Hey,” he said to Delilah. “Sorry again for dragging you into this. But . . . I’m glad you’re here.”
It was adroit of him to apologize for what Delilah still thought of as more Livia’s war than anyone else’s. After all, Dox had stepped in with Kanezaki in an attempt to keep Livia out of it, and the rest of the dominos had fallen from there. Delilah knew this wasn’t the generous view she had managed at the airport in Virginia. The truth was, Livia just rubbed her the wrong way. Delilah had known plenty of zealots in her time—the term came from a sect of Israelites that had resisted the Romans—and no matter how noble their intentions, in the end they were always willing to sacrifice anyone else for whatever the sacred cause.
She smiled—no effort with Larison—and kissed him on both cheeks. “Daniel. I won’t deny, I’m glad, too.” She glanced over at Diaz and the horse. “I’m sorry, am I seeing that correctly?”
Larison nodded. “It’s a long story. Actually, I don’t know the story. We’re hoping Kanezaki can explain.”
Delilah saw Evie and Dash and waved. “Evie, Dash, let me introduce you.” They came over, and the extra people diluted the initial awkwardness with Livia. Dash, who was a natural elicitor, immediately started asking Livia questions about being a cop. Larison told Evie he was glad that she and Dash were all right and that John had been there to help. It was interesting to see how relaxed Larison could be, even charming. He must never have had people he trusted. And now he did. Not so unlike John.