He carried me all the way there, then put me down in a black leather armchair. Ringer went to the small bar and poured something, then came over with it while Pete stood near the chair and stared down at me without expression. “Drink this,” Ringer ordered, holding out the glass. “All of it.” I looked up at him and shook my head. “If I do I’ll throw up. I’m all right now.” He started to push the glass at me, but a knock at the door stopped him while Pete went over to open it. “It’s about time,” Pete growled when he saw who it was. “We almost didn’t need you except for the certification.” “I came as soon as you called and you know it,” a brisk voice countered. “What are you feeling guilty about now?” The owner of the brisk voice had pushed her way into the room and had come over to stand directly in front of me.
