Page 128 of Shatter

His hand stays where it is for one long second.

Then he smiles and lets go.

I pull it out of my pocket.

A little black rectangle in a plastic sandwich bag.

I hold it out to him on my open palm, and my hand shakes so hard the bag crinkles.

He takes it.

He looks at it for a moment, turning it over in his fingers.

"Check it." He hands it over his shoulder to Laurent without looking.

Laurent sits down at the metal desk and opens a laptop and slides the drive into the port.

I stand there with my arms wrapped around myself and watch his face.

His fingers move on the keys, and his eyebrows go up.

He clicks again, and again.

Then he looks up at Desmond, and his polite smile is gone.

"It's recipes." He turns the laptop around. "Cinnamon rolls. Inventory for a bakery."

The room goes very still.

Desmond looks at the screen for a long time.

Then he turns and looks at me, and the patience is gone from his face.

What's left underneath, I've seen exactly once before, the night I told him I didn't want to marry him.

"Annika." His voice is soft. "Where is it?"

I lift my chin.

Every inch of me is shaking, but I lift my chin.

"Somewhere you'll never find it." I don't look away. "With people who'll send it to the FBI if anything happens to me."

Pierce makes a sound in the doorway, strangled.

Desmond looks at me for a long moment.

Then he laughs.

A low, warm, delighted sound, like I've told him a joke at a dinner party.

"The biker." He says it like he's tasting something. "Your prospect."

My fingers go numb around my own elbows.

"He'll come for you." Desmond smooths his tie. "They always come for the girl. And when he does, he'll bring it with him, because that's what men like him do, Annika. They trade."

He turns to Laurent.