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had to be behind us. Good thing Dane had several shotguns hanging in the back window—not only was the view inside the truck obscured, but we could defend ourselves if necessary. "How many years did he do?"
    "Thirty's what he got. I don't recall exactly how many he did. But he got out—" He paused then whistled. "It's been maybe twenty years ago, I bet."
    "Hell of a long time to keep a grudge," Dane muttered. I couldn't read the emotion in his voice, but there was something there.
    I leaned forward, closer, but still scrunched down a bit. "When you went to see him, what'd you guys talk about?"
    At the Strip, Dane took a left toward the Babylon. "Old times?" he offered. For once, someone else said what I was thinking.
    A sad expression tugged at Jimmy's features. "I know you're makin' fun, but that's all we had to talk about. There was nuthin' else. I tried to make it right between us, but he wouldn't have nuthin' to do with it."
    "Some people just have to hang onto bad feelings, Jimmy." I reached over the back of the seat and squeezed his shoulder. "Not much you can do about it."
    "Last thing Boogie said to me, he was going back to Jersey to pick up the pieces. Then he'd be back. And he'd be gunnin' for me." Jimmy's face hardened, his eyes narrowing to dark slits. "But not just for me."
    "Who else was in the creep's crosshairs?" I asked. Could Boogie really be back? Or did we have a copycat? And who was the target? And why now? Hell, most of the bit players were probably dead by now.
    "Your father."
    Okay, that grabbed me by the short hairs—me and my misplaced smugness. "The Big Boss?" My stomach clenched as my blood ran cold. I touched the bandage on my forehead. A throbbing pain had pierced the heavy dose of local anesthetic.Waving away the offer of pain medication probably wasn't the smartest stunt I'd pulled lately. I was never quite as tough as I thought which, all things considered, probably wasn't a bad thing.
    "Yeah, back in those days, your father was willing to help clean up Vegas. He made a lot of enemies."
    "Several lifetimes ago, Jimmy."
    "But it was personal." His normal smile absent, Jimmy looked tired. "People are like elephants when it comes to that shit."
    I let my thoughts travel back in time. "Yeah, some things you just can't forget."
    Jimmy reached for my hand, which I gave to him across the seatback. He squeezed it hard, as his eyes bored into mine. "Do you remember?"
    "Like it was yesterday," I whispered, half-afraid that remembering would make it real all over again. "It was the same bomb, Jimmy. Put in the same place. Too coincidental to be anything other than intentional. Somebody's sending you a message." We stared at each other for a moment, connected by a memory.
    "Boogie's back." Even though a long time had passed, I felt it in my bones. I grabbed my phone, hit a familiar number, then pressed it to my ear.
    The Big Boss's phone rang and rang.
    No one answered.

Chapter Two

    Against all odds, me and my little band of Musketeers made it to my office without being jumped by a pack of roving reporters. Breathing a sigh of relief, I let Dane pull open the door. Jimmy motioned me in front of him. Unaccustomed to such chivalry, I wasn't above appreciating it when presented.
    As was customary, my assistant, Miss P, didn't look up when I entered. And yet, despite not getting a visual, somehow she knew it was me. "Lucky, where the hell have you been? The phone has been jumping out of its cradle. For some reason, every reporter in the state wants your comments on some explosion. Why would they…" Her voice trailed off when she looked up. For once, she was speechless.
    "I had a front row seat, which could explain some of their enthusiasm."
    She jumped up. "Are you okay?"
    "The doctor's at UMC seem to think so. Either that or they did all they could and sent me to work to die."
    Jimmy took a chair against the wall of windows overlooking the lobby below. Sometimes, I loved to stop and look through the