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For most folks, that means taxes, a sick dog, a surprise dental bill.

What did they steal?

But I know better than to ask.

Luca talks like someone might have jacked a gun shipment or lost a human body. Maybe both.

I hate that I wonder if it means stolen hearts and kidneys.

Ugh.

He stares at his food and says nothing, another hint that this is bad. Clearly, there are levels to his game.

When he found out Dr. Grubert was sneaking around behind his back, he treated that like a walk in the park. A bloody, finger-threatening walk in the park, but still…

He didn’t wear the look he has now.

I set my spoon down. “Will it blow over the way it did with Grubert…?”

His eyes meet mine.

“Sylvie, enough about work.”

“What? I’m making conversation. I care about you.”

“Maybe so, but you’re digging now, woman.”

“I’m a nurse. We assess.”

He snorts, slurping another bite off his spoon.

Yeah, see, I knew I was right.

When I take a closer look, it’s even more obvious how wary he is.

The arched bow tension in his shoulders.

The way his arctic gaze keeps sliding toward the dark window behind me, like he’s expecting a black cat to show up or something.

The gnarled curl of his hand around the stem of his wineglass without lifting it to his mouth.

It’s like drawing some sick parallel between us.

Me, trapped behind a desk, watching the seconds bleed by but feeling helpless, wondering if I’m being pulled deeper into the gravity of his dark, bewildering world.

The tension on his face is honest.

Maybe it’s fitting that we’re in the same boat, even if it isn’t comforting.

Still, I wonder what could set him on edge like this.

It can’t be Grubert acting up again.

From the panicked way he reacted tonight, I think he learned his lesson.

I also can’t forget how he mentioned Dr. Rennick, an insider at the top of the pyramid.

I purse my lips.