67 Danny’s eyes flew open, instantly awake. He’d always been that way, barring sickness or injury. It had served him well with the man who’d been his first father and his secret temper, and with Virgil, his second unstable father. Instant wakefulness was also useful as an adult, when Danny found himself surrounded by people who’d spent a lifetime making bad choices and might not think his life was a bad trade for a decent fix. His gaze strayed toward the package in the glovebox. His nest egg. He scrubbed his face with his hands, elbowing the steering wheel. The sound and sensation of stubble friction helped stimulate his blood. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but it was getting there. Danny could see his path back to the road. He should be at Uncle Teddy’s in an hour or so. He’d only been ther

