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instructions. I asked, “Ready?”
    She shouted something incomprehensible and squeezed my hips with her thighs.
     
    Cael
    We were gone longer than fifteen minutes. By the time we returned, Cody was smoking a joint while rocking in a chair on the veranda. He looked sheepish when Iggy saw his red, puffy eyes, sniffed the air, and then wrinkled her nose. I expected her to be pissed, but all she said was, “You know my dad’s a cop, right?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said on a slow exhale.
    Iggy nodded. “Then your choices are your responsibility.”
    “Is it lunch time yet?” he asked, eyes half-mast. “I’m starving.”
    We ignored him and continued into the house, and then Iggy’s phone beeped several times. She stopped, snatched it off her belt, and then frowned at something on the screen. I tried to peer over her shoulder. “What does that mean?”
    “Front gate,” was all she said before opening the foyer closet and grabbing a rifle.
    I trailed her out the door past Cody, who was slumped down in the chair, snoring. I let him sleep and followed Iggy up the gently sloped driveway to find a black Cadillac parked behind the gates. The driver got out and held up his hands. Iggy snapped, “What do you want, Jensen?”
    “I just want to talk to you, Ignacia. A civilized conversation without weapons.”
    I studied the guy. He was average height and fairly thin, with conservatively cut brown hair and a baby face. The badge clipped to his suit jacket indicated he was with the Centers for Disease Control. I was confused by his presence, but if Iggy didn’t like him, neither did I.
    “If you brought your guard dogs, I’m warning you now that this guy,” she tipped her head at me, “can take them down faster than you can blink.”
    Whatever her reason was for bluffing, I decided not to contradict her. If only she knew I had never hit someone without the strike being sanctioned. However, I wasn't about to ruin her perception of me.
    As Jensen approached the gate, he made a signal that had two other men in suits exiting the car to flank him. He looked me over. “Is that so?” He made a silent gesture and one of the men pulled out a cell phone and took pictures of me. Weird.
    “Is this your new boyfriend?” he asked, a slow smile spreading across his face.
    “Hurry up and say what you came here to say so that I can get back to my knitting,” she said.
    Jensen scowled. “We need you to come in for another check-up.”
    “Piss off.”
    I glanced at her, feeling lost. Was Iggy sick or something?
    “Where’s Wesley?”
    “He won’t go with you, either,” she snapped.
    “Why don’t you let me ask him?”
    “Because I’m bored with this conversation and I’m leaving.”
    As she turned away, Jensen grabbed hold of the bars and raised his voice, “I’m trying to help you, Ignacia. If you don’t cooperate, you might die.”
    While I looked at the man as if he were insane, Iggy merely tossed over her shoulder, “Death would be better than being your lab rat.”
    I fell into step beside her as she headed back toward the house. Wesley was running up the driveway, aiming a shot gun toward the gate and looking pissed.
    Jensen hollered, “Tell her I’m right, Wesley!”
    In response, Wesley aimed just above the fence and fired his weapon. I jumped at the sound. Iggy didn’t even bother to look, nor did she break her stride. Seconds later, I heard tires squealing and looked back to find the Cadillac gone.
    “What the hell is going on?” Cody ran toward us, rubbing his eyes.
    Iggy and Wesley exchange looks, and then he hugged her tightly to him. She whispered something in his ear. Looking grave, he pulled back and nodded, and they headed for the house.
    Cody looked at me and repeated his question as we trailed behind them. I said, “I have no idea. All I got out of that exchange is that Iggy would rather die than be a lab rat for the CDC.” I caught up and put a hand on her shoulder. “What did that guy