Frank looked up from the kitchen table. He was looking at the name and number of the fixer. That's when he heard the breathy, smokey voice of Lauren de Salle.<br/><br/>She was teasing him with a silly play on words. But it was the way she did it: with that voice and how she stretched her legs and wiggled her painted toes. She even had a glint in her eyes. A twinkle.<br/><br/>Frank caught his breath. Damn Camels. He looked at her and his rugged mouth slowly spread into a grin.<br/><br/>"Cuffed actually," he said, walking toward her. "But close enough."<br/><br/>He stopped in front of the sofa. His eyes trained on hers, Frank fished the cuff key from his chinos. He reached behind her and unlocked them, but only freed her left wrist. He snapped the cuff back on to her right hand and connected the vacant cuff to the end table, which had a convenient dowel on which to do so.<br/><br/>It kept her from going anywhere but now Lauren had the most mobility she had all evening.<br/><br/>"Drink?"<br/><br/>Frank opened the ice box. He plopped some cubes into a glass and poured Scotch over them, after rooting around and finding everything, including glasses. He was told the safe house had liquor and boy, did it.