Daddy Wanted - Wylde Tara(ang)

Daddy Wanted Tara Wylde Holly Hart Red Cape Rommance

Contents I. Daddy Wanted Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 28. Epilogue (Elina) II. The Storm

Prologue Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43

Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59

Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Chapter 72 Chapter 73 74. EPILOGUE III. Keeping Her

Chapter 75 Chapter 76 Chapter 77 Chapter 78 Chapter 79 Chapter 80 Chapter 81 Chapter 82 Chapter 83 Chapter 84 Chapter 85 Chapter 86 Chapter 87 Chapter 88 Chapter 89 Chapter 90

Chapter 91 Chapter 92 Chapter 93 Chapter 94 Chapter 95 Chapter 96 Chapter 97 Chapter 98 Chapter 99 Chapter 100 Chapter 101 Chapter 102 Chapter 103 Chapter 104 Chapter 105 Chapter 106

Chapter 107 Chapter 108 Chapter 109 Chapter 110 Chapter 111 Chapter 112 Chapter 113 Chapter 114 Chapter 115 Chapter 116 Chapter 117 Chapter 118 Chapter 119 Chapter 120 Chapter 121 Chapter 122

Chapter 123 Chapter 124 Chapter 125 Chapter 126 Chapter 127 Chapter 128 Chapter 129 Chapter 130 Chapter 131 Chapter 132 Chapter 133 Chapter 134 Chapter 135 Chapter 136 Chapter 137 Chapter 138

Chapter 139 Chapter 140 Chapter 141 Chapter 142 Chapter 143 Chapter 144 Chapter 145 Chapter 146 Chapter 147 Chapter 148 Chapter 149 Chapter 150 Chapter 151 Chapter 152 Chapter 153 Chapter 154

Chapter 155 Chapter 156 Chapter 157 158. EPILOGUE: SARA IV. The Chase Stay in touch! Chapter 159 Chapter 160 Chapter 161 Chapter 162 Chapter 163 Chapter 164 Chapter 165 Chapter 166 Chapter 167 Chapter 168

Chapter 169 Chapter 170 Chapter 171 Chapter 172 Chapter 173 Chapter 174 Chapter 175 Chapter 176 Chapter 177 Chapter 178 Chapter 179 Chapter 180 Chapter 181 Chapter 182 Chapter 183 Chapter 184

Chapter 185 Chapter 186 Chapter 187 Chapter 188 Chapter 189 Chapter 190 Chapter 191 Chapter 192 Chapter 193 Chapter 194 Chapter 195 Chapter 196 Chapter 197 Chapter 198 Chapter 199 Chapter 200

Chapter 201 Chapter 202 Chapter 203 Chapter 204 Chapter 205 Chapter 206 Chapter 207 Chapter 208 Chapter 209 Chapter 210 Chapter 211 Chapter 212 Chapter 213 Chapter 214 Chapter 215 Chapter 216

Chapter 217 218. EPILOGUE: CASSIE Stay in touch!

Part I

Daddy Wanted A Daddy's for life, not just for Christmas ... Nick: I have a daughter. So I know no kid should ever go hungry for the holidays. Especially not Elina's... But she deserves something better than just food. Like the org*sm she's never had. I'll show her I can be the Daddy she needs … Elina: What kind of billionaire volunteers at a food bank? Nick, apparently. He saved me when I thought I'd lost everything. Gave me hope when I'd lost mine. But he wants too take something, too... My submission .

Chapter One E lina Why does shopping have to come with so many bags? You start with a purse, every store adds a bag, and then, somehow, those bags breed more bags, little bag families that fill up both hands and bang against your legs as you walk. And the weight of them! My arms, my feet—if I was the complaining type — “Mommy?” “Put it back, Joey .” “How’d you know I took something?” Uh-oh! There’s a certain note creeping into his voice: the danger note. We’re nearing meltdown territory. Better hurry.... “Mommy? How’d you know I took something ?” “Eyes in the back of my head.” I squeeze his hand. Half an hour more; half an hour, and we’ll — “Mommy!” What was I even here for? I’m staring at a rack of

insoles and corn pads, and there was something I needed, something essential, but .... “Mommy! ” “Okay, Joey....” I go to ruffle his hair—red as mine, but ten times softer—and wind up with a finger up his nose. He giggles . Insoles. Corn pads. Ace bandages. Not those, but...foot powder? Pumice bars? What ...? It’s so bright in here. There’s not an inch of my body that doesn’t boast some ache or pain, but my eyes are raw . It’s like they dial the lights up to eleven in these places, like...like the more you see, the more you’ll be tempted to -“Mommy, just look ! ” And now, I can’t — “Mommy! ” It’s a little stuffed rabbit, pink satin, black button eyes. Cute as hell. Total choking hazard. I’d have loved one, at his age . “Joey, I’m going to need you to put that back .” Nail clippers! That was it: I need nail —

“Daddy would get it for me .” I close my eyes. It’s blissful. Blessedly dark and restful. If I could just—if there was some cosmic pause button I could hit; if I could collect my thoughts, swallow the lump in my throat, before I turn around and soothe my cranky son .... I count to three, slow as I can . I don’t turn around. Can’t let him see the expression on my face. Besides, I don’t need to, to know his lip’s wobbling, to know he’s about five seconds from beaning me with that rabbit . “Listen, if you put the rabbit back, we can go by the pet store on the way home. Maybe they’ll let you pet a real one !” And...there it is: one tiny stuffed rabbit, bouncing off the back of my head. Kid never misses. Little League’s going to love him . I grab the nail clippers and pick up the rabbit. Joey must’ve been carrying it a while: there’s no rack of rabbits, no bottom-shelf hutch, in sight. Probably knew I’d say no. Probably wanted to hold it as long as he could before ....

Maybe just this once.... I’ve been saving everything for Christmas: I need him to have that one day of feeling special, hell, of feeling like a normal kid. Having the childhood he deserves. But that shouldn’t mean every other day has to suck . I glance at the price tag: $7.99. I can’t. I just...can’t. For a brief, mad moment, I consider stuffing the thing down my pants. It’s barely worth a dollar. Who’d even care ? “Where’d you get him, sweetie ?” “No.” Oh, great. The no phase. Next up: uncontrollable howling. Got to head that off at the pass . “Okay, well, why don’t you pick out a toothbrush, any color you want, while I — “ “No! ” Joey goes splat, flat and boneless on the floor. We’re starting to attract an audience. I’m about to be that mom , begging my shrieking fouryear-old to peel himself off the linoleum, while a pack of baby boomers reminisces about how their parents would’ve tanned their hides, if they’d dared. Yeah, I see you, Your Ladyship in the red stretch pants. Grab your Depends; move along .

I kneel down beside him. The floor smells like Windex. My eyes water. “Joey, listen—Mommy’s tired, and...and if you can wait a few weeks, it’s going to be Christmas, and you’ll have a whole stocking full of toys to play with. Maybe if you’re a good boy, and get up off the floor, Santa’ll even bring you one of those — “ “You bought stuff for you in every store, ” he wails, and it’s over, it’s over, it’s so over. I’m that mom , and I’m not getting those nail clippers; he’s not getting that toothbrush; and, oh God, contact lens solution! I’m totally out, and my tips suck when I wear glasses, and ... ...and is it just me, or has the background hum turned unfriendly? I can’t make out what anyone’s saying, but I’d swear I hear spiky accents. Angry mutterings . I abandon my basket, scoop up my limp, tearstreaked son, and start walking. The bus stop’s way at the other end of the mall. Joey’s bawling his grievances right in my ear. He’s hitting this high, piercing note, like a policeman’s whistle. It’s making my eardrum flutter. Making me dizzy . Can a human voice rupture an eardrum ? I’m so thirsty. Think I’m dehydrated. When’d I last

sit down? What I’d do for a strawberry milkshake ! And now he’s pulling my hair. And my earring— ouch! Ouch! Not the earring! Didn’t I already pass that Bed, Bath, and Beyond ? Somewhere between the Body Shop and the juice bar, he pees on me. I choose to believe it’s an accident . By the time we step out into the fresh air, my left shoe’s squelching, but Joey’s screams have dwindled to whimpers. I buy a Times I can’t afford from the paper box, so he won’t leave a pee-print on the bus. Joke ends up on me: it’s standing room only. I point his wet butt at the man giving us the dirtiest look . By the end of the ride, the bus smells like an outhouse. I think I’ve reached my threshold for embarrassment: all I can feel is a dull all-over ache that starts at my lower back and threads its way through every fiber of my body. Even my toenails hurt. Or my toes hurt, where my unclipped nails are digging into them. Whatever . Fortunately, the bus stops right in front of my building. I tuck my bags out of sight, under the stairs, so I can hold Joey in both arms on my way up. He’s gone all snuffly-sleepy. Stinky, but cute .

He rubs his snotty nose on my neck when I try to set him down at the door . “Mommy?” “We’re home, sweetie! Don’t you want a nice, hot bath ?” “No.” I jiggle him on my hip. “C’mon, tiger. Mommy’s got to open the door .” Now he’s wiping his whole face on my neck. “I’m sorry I was bad.” He sounds like he’s about to cry again. I hug him as tight as I can, turn my head to whisper in his ear. “I’ll tell you a little secret: everyone hates shopping. Everyone . ” “Even rich people ?” He pulls away to look at me, and I finally manage to put him down. “Especially rich people. Rich people hate it so much they hire poor people to do it for them .” “That’s gonna be my job, when I grow up .” I laugh, but I’m distracted. Something’s not in my pocket that ought to be. “Sweetie, have you seen

my keys ?” Joey cocks his head. “You told me to hold onto them at the Rite-Aid. They kept smacking into your leg .” My heart sinks. “And did you ?” He shakes his head . “Joey? Sweetheart? What have you done with my keys?” I crouch down to his level, but he won’t meet my eyes . “I traded them for the bunny .” What the...? I never let go of his hand, let alone lost sight of him. How could he have—who could he have.... “Traded them? To whom ?” “The Elf on the Shelf .” “The—“ Oh, my God! Gales of laughter tear through me. I’m shaking, snorting, can’t help myself. This! This, right here! This is one of those stories you tell and tell, and it never gets old. If we don’t freeze to death on the stoop like the Little Match Girl, I’m going to be embarrassing him with this one till he’s forty .

“It’s okay, Mommy .” “I—I know, Joey! I’m sorry; it’s just—“ I bite my lip, but another guffaw breaks loose anyway . “No, I mean, the door’s open .” “Oh, well, that’s—“ My blood runs cold . The door is open. Not unlocked, but open , just a crack, barely noticeable in the dark . “Get behind me, Joey .” “Mommy?” “It’s—it’s all right. Just...just stand behind me, real quiet, huh ?” He wraps himself around my leg. I push the door open, tense as a greyhound, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. But there’s nothing there—nothing there. Not even the stuff that’s supposed to be; not even — I hear a horrible, guttural moan, and I’ve already snatched Joey into my arms before I realize it came from me. The high cabinet, the one above the fridge, the one with the Christmas presents, the ornaments, everything Christmas... It’s open.

Empty. And every other cabinet, every drawer — “Mommy? Where’s — ?” “It’s...it’s....” What to say...what to say? “Ah ....” “Did we go in the wrong door ?” “Uh...ah....” Say something! “It’s...it’s....” A nightmare. “A game, sweetie! We, uh...it’s a... It’s like hide-and-seek, but, uh...my friends from work? They’ve hidden my things all over town, and—and if I find them, I get...better things. Everything brand new!” Smooth, Lina . “Can I play ?” “Yeah, definitely, but...but tomorrow, okay? It’s dark now, so, uh.... We’ll start tomorrow. After playgroup. In the park. But for now, ah, I’ve got to... I’m going to take you next door, and you can play with the cats, and I bet Mrs. Thing’ll give you a gingersnap, if you say ‘please ’.” “Mrs. Thing !” I’m going to owe Mrs. Dzhokharova the biggest fruit basket I can afford. Which will probably amount to a single banana and a Fruit Roll-Up, at this rate. Brownies, then. Or...or I’ll clean her

bathroom. Anything, just .... I’m freaking out . Okay, calm down . I must be in shock. Can’t think straight. Need to move, need to .... “Okay. Okay.” I go to take Joey by the hand, but he’s — —where the fuck, ohmygod where’s he — —he’s already run ahead, down the hall. The light’s spilling out, under Mrs. Thing’s door. He must’ve snuck off, and knocked, and been let in, while I was...staring into space? Wringing my hands? What was I just doing ? I don’t have time to go to pieces. My sweaty fingers slide on my skin when I go to pinch myself. Forcing myself into action feels like wading through cold molasses. I trail after Joe in a fog, and I must manage to say something to Mrs. Thing, because she fusses, and the cats crowd my ankles, and Joey ends up in her grandson’s PJs. Someone calls the police, and a locksmith, and I’m dimly aware I can’t afford a locksmith, but what choice do I have ?

I blink, and I’m back in my doorway, alone. I don’t want to turn on the light. There are lumps on the floor, unfamiliar shapes, shards and clumps and broken things that crunch underfoot. Whoever was here, they didn’t just rip me off. In the dim glow of the hall light, I can see where they tore up the carpet, tagged the walls, cut the curtains to shreds . I take two steps into the kitchen, needing a glass of water. Something squelches under my heel: Joey’s goldfish, dead in a spray of glass and aquarium pebbles. I scream. My legs give out and I go down hard. There’s something digging into my knees and the tops of my feet—Cheerios; they dumped out a week’s worth of breakfast, for what? For what? Spite ? I drop my forehead to the floor, mouth open wide. I can’t cry like I want to. Can’t, can’t, cannot. I blink hard. Two huge tears break free, roll down my cheeks, and drip off my chin. I breathe deep till my eyes stop stinging . Can’t even afford a proper cry . The cops are coming; there’s that to deal with . Get up . I stand at attention. Brush Cheerio crumbs off my

pants, which are still wet, and starting to chafe . Get changed ? My bedroom’s a war zone in its own right. The nightstand’s in pieces, and it looks like someone’s run a lawnmower over the bed. Feathers and fabric scraps are everywhere, chunks of mattress foam too. Every lamp’s been shattered. And my clothes...my clothes are on the floor, covered in— yep. Yep. That’d be piss. I fight back another round of hysterical laughter. I came in here so I wouldn’t smell like I wet my pants, and...and...it’s funny, right? Like, in someone else’s life, or on a sitcom, it’d be a scream . The closet’s a forest of empty hangers...empty hangers, and my gym bag, still stuffed with my sweaty old workout gear. So...do I want to reek of pee or BO when the cops get here ? Not fair. Not fair, not fair, not fair . Joey’s laughing, two doors down. Mrs. Thing must’ve got out the laser pointer again. Joey loves it more than the cats do. I find myself smiling in spite of myself. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. Right now, this has only happened to me. All I need to do is keep it that way .

My smile grows as a plan forms. We will hunt for our stuff. It’ll be like...a new adventure every day. We’ll ride the subways. Find Pizza Rat. Hit up a museum or two. Pretend to spot our furniture in showroom windows and other people’s living rooms. It’ll be educational, kinda. Even a little magical. And I’ll work a few extra shifts, and in a couple of weeks, we’ll do a Dollarama run. We’ll get fun stuff—plastic tables with toes on their feet, lamps shaped like clowns, whatever’s silly. Joey’ll love it. And Christmas...Christmas .... It’ll be fine . I’ll make it fine .

Chapter Two N ick A n eyeroll emoji. A freaking eyeroll emoji. The dreaded day’s arrived: my nine-year-old’s too cool for her dad . My phone chirps again: srsly dad??? pix w/santa? what am i, 5 ? I’ve finished emptying the last of the donation bins. Still got to inventory the contents, weed out the expired shit, but Mac said he’d help with that after the early evening rush. I should touch up the lettering too: how’s anyone supposed to see “PY AN FOO ANT” and get “HAPPY BEAN FOOD PANTRY”? No wonder donations are down ! I fire off a text while I wait: got ur skates sharpened 2day. or u too grown up for that too ? wanna see shawn mendes . he hottttttttt <3 Oh, no. Uh-uh. None of that. My thumbs fly: katie, u r way 2 young to be saying “hottttttttt.” or

thinking it. and u have homework. or if u don’t u can clean ur room. or my room. clean something and get off the internet . The ellipsis icon barely flashes, before another eyeroll pops up. Then two hearts, a sushi roll, and a Grinch head . I’m thirty years old, feeling ancient . What’s wrong with Santa, anyway ? It’s not just Katie. People are way too cynical about Christmas, in general. Christmas music, Christmas lights, Christmas decorations: it seems a waste, if you’re only going to appreciate them one day out of the year. So what if it’s barely Thanksgiving? No such thing as “too early. I love those YouTube videos where people turn their whole houses into spectacles, with hundreds of thousands of lights on timers, flashing their way through Silver Bells or Ride of the Valkyries . I love Santa and jingling sleighs. Turkey too. Doesn’t matter the time of year: show me a string of fairy lights, a Rudolph nose, even a bag of oranges, I get a surge of excitement . The one thing I could do without is the cold. I’m freezing my ass off in here. I think it’s still attached back there, but it went numb sometime between

lunch and the second box of bananas I dropped on my foot, so who’s to say? My fingers are ice cubes, but my palms are on fire with the start of a fresh crop of blisters. The tip of my nose is stinging . “Order up !” I straighten. My back crackles and pops. I barely suppress a groan . “You dying there, man ?” “Think I need mouth to mouth.” I do an exaggerated hunchback walk to the window. Rich snorts and passes me the order . “She’s gonna need help lugging that to the station, so meet her out front, when you’re done .” “Got it .” The order’s for a first-timer pack: a few staples to tide someone over till we can get ‘em registered— non-perishables, stuff we’ve got plenty of. I pad it out with a selection of our less popular fresh stuff: leeks, Brussels sprouts, those things that look like carrots but taste like turnips—parsnips?—and four ears of corn tied together with string. The corn’s a hot item, but no-one should leave without something good .

I’m glad for my new scarf when I step out of the pantry. A brisk wind’s gusted in from the north, and there’s a smell of snow in the air. I can feel my cheeks redden . The woman waiting on the front bench looks like this is the first time she’s sat down all day. Maybe all week. She’s in a position I know too well: slumped forward, elbows on knees, face in hands, like she could doze off where she sits. I check the name on the order slip . “Miss, uh, Petrova? Elina Petrova ?” She jerks upright—maybe she was sleeping. “Oh! Yes! Lina, though; everyone calls me Lina.” She smiles, and for a second, I forget we’re strangers. She’s got one of those smiles that makes you feel like you must’ve done something awesome to deserve it. Makes you feel like you’re the only person in the whole world. “Sorry! Didn’t see you there .” “Don’t worry about it. Where you headed ?” “Brighton Beach .” “Whoa, that’s....” I shift the bags from one hand to the other. Even for me, they’re getting heavy. “I mean, you gonna manage all this? That’s a subway

and a bus, and quite a walk in between .” “I’ll make it work.” Lina conjures up another smile, kind of a watery one this time. “It’s just, it’s kind of an emergency, and you were the only ones open this late. I, uh...really messed up .” “I’m sure you didn’t .” “No, I did. I mean, I feel bad even coming here, taking away food from people who need it, after I —after I — “ I set down the bags. “Hey. Come on. That’s exactly what we’re here for. Emergencies. People in a pinch. You’re not taking anything from anyone.” I pat her arm. She feels too thin, lost in her winter coat . “Thanks. Thanks; you’re—that’s really nice of you. It’s just, I did the shopping yesterday. But then my hands were full, so I left some of the bags under the stairs. And I got distracted, and by the time I went back....” She smacks herself in the forehead. “See? Idiot .” “Had a student come in last week because he didn’t know he had to plug in his fridge, and everything his mom bought him went bad.” Not true, but she doesn’t need to know that .

She laughs, but it feels forced. There’s something about her, a look in her eyes, like she’s a million miles away, running down a list of worries that never ends. I know that look. I’ve seen it in the mirror too many times . “Just a sec,” I tell her, snatching back one of the bags. “Just realized, uh—this one’s not—grabbed the wrong—be right back !” She holds up her hand like she’s about to tell me to wait, it doesn’t matter, but I’m already on my mission. I don’t know: maybe it’s the Christmas music still playing in my head. Maybe it’s that look in her eyes, haunted and familiar. Can’t put my finger on the reason, but I want to give her something nice to come home to . Instead of the pantry, I go for my car. A quick rummage through the mess that is my back seat turns up what I’m looking for: a snack basket from the deli. It’s not much—a few champagne truffles; a tube of gourmet crackers; spicy smoked oysters; jars of peppers and olives and grape leaves in oil; a lot of little packs of this and that. I’d planned to gobble it over the sink like a hobo when I got home, but this is better. I scribble a little note to go with it and bury it in the bag, under a head of lettuce . Lina’s checking out our Christmas display when I

get back. I did a whole Frosty the Snowman thing in the window, complete with flurries of hand-cut snowflakes . “Like it ?” Her real smile’s back, the sunny one. “Love it. Festive, with the snowstorm.” She’s one of those people who talks with her hands. She does a whole finger-wiggling thing, miming falling snow . “That was my idea .” “Creative and modest, eh?” She picks up one of the bags and starts walking. I fall into step beside her. The trek to the subway feels too quick: before I know it, I’m standing on the platform, watching the train whisk her away. Somehow, I managed to talk about myself the whole way: my questionable artistic talents, my Christmas plans, my job at the food pantry...and I never learned a thing about her . This is why I’m single . In my defense, she did keep asking questions . No. This is definitely why I’m single .

Chapter Three E lina The guy from the food pantry hands off my bags with a courtly half-bow. I want to say something, thank him properly, but the doors are already closing. Can’t even wave with my arms full of food. Normally I’d be too tired to care, but there was something sweet about him. Reminded me of Joey, in a way—probably all that talk of Christmas. Never seen a grown man so excited about...what was he even on about? Snow angels? Hot toddies by the fire? Ridiculous .... I shake my head. All right for some, I guess. Me, I’m back to square one . Well. Not quite. Mrs. Dzhokharova said I could have her artificial tree, and two strings of lights. Must make Joey quit calling her Mrs. Thing. That can be his New Year’s resolution: no more Mrs. Thing . My phone buzzes with a text—a meme of a laughing toddler in a box: “Latest toy: $200. Box it came in: priceless.” Pff. Can’t picture Joey being

thrilled with an empty box. Maybe a box filled with ribbons and glitter and buttons and beads, everything he needs to turn our place into a disaster area ? Yeah. I mean, no. He’d absolutely go for the box of messy crap... And it’s never, ever going to happen . Maybe I could dig up my old favorites, pass them down as heirlooms. There was some dirty old doll I found behind a dumpster; Mama used to crochet dresses for it. Dozens and dozens of them, each pinker and frillier than the last. That’d be a no. But there was definitely a red bike—what ever happened to that? Maybe Mama still has it. I could fix it up... Would Joey be big enough to ride, if I screwed on some training wheels ? I feel heavy all over. It’s warm in here. I could drift off so easy, miss my stop . I don’t want to, but I get up. Can’t afford any more screwups . This’ll be my first time doing Christmas on my own, and the first one Joey’ll be old enough to remember. If I don’t miss a beat between now and then, I might pull it off . By the time I get home, it’s starting to come

together in my head. Which isn’t the same as coming together in reality, but still feels like progress. I’m almost positive I can get my hands on that bike. And I might have a line on a bag of used Legos, plus an extra-large bubble wand. Not exactly the epic haul I’d been planning, but it’s a start . I find the door cracked open again. Panic floods my veins. I almost drop my bags, almost scream for Joey, but I can hear him already. And he’s laughing. I elbow the door open, to find Mrs. Dzhokharova painting over the graffiti in the living room, and Joey... Well, I guess you could say he’s helping. He’s got his own little brush, the one that came with his watercolor set, and he’s following her around, painting scary blue spiders along the edges of her coverup . “They’re washable,” she says. “This...the creepycrawlies. Scrub right off .” “Thanks for this.” I squeeze around them and start putting the food away . Mrs. D’s really been busy. I managed to deal with the worst of the mess before Joey woke up—even replaced the goldfish, heaven help me—but this is above and beyond. She’s brought over a TV table, a couple of chairs, a pile of cushions, and hung a

colorful tablecloth over the window in place of curtains. It’s starting to look almost homelike again . “Got to get home in time for my shows,” she says. “But my Emin’s coming tomorrow. Thought Joey might join us for Chuck-E-Cheese and a sleepover? Bed by eight, of course .” “Yeah, Mommy!” Joey’s practically jumping up and down . I pull out a bag of Brussels sprouts and dangle them in his face. “Choke down four of these tonight, and you’re on .” “Aw, Momm-eeee !” I nod at Mrs. D. He’ll be there . I’m already planning tonight’s dinner as I unpack. There’s enough here to make spaghetti, Joey’s favorite—that ought to help the sprouts go down easier. Or I could be nice and do a salad instead. Sprouts keep longer than lettuce. There’s a good leafy head of Romaine, and underneath — —what the hell ? This fancy basket cannot be standard food pantry

fare. It’s...it’s an actual, no-fooling picnic basket, woven wicker, with a checkered cloth lining. Inside, there’s cheese, crackers, jars and cans with fancy labels—even chocolate. Nice chocolate, dark and rich, dusted with cocoa powder. And are those...smoked oysters? My mouth waters. Not sure Joey’ll go for those, but I love them . “Joey?” He looks up from the cobweb he’s painting into the corner. “Yeah ?” “Wash your hands and get your red blanket .” “My blanket ?” “Can’t have a picnic without a blanket, right?” I hold up the basket. A scrap of paper flutters loose. Joey’s eyes go wide . “No Brussels sprouts ?” “Not tonight .” He runs off cheering. I wait till I hear water running —sometimes, he only pretends he’s washed his hands—and retrieve the receipt. Only it’s not a receipt. It’s a handwritten note, a few scribbled words: Thought you could use a treat. Their stuffed

peppers are the best ! :-) I feel my eyes well up. This must be...this must be what that guy ran back for, when he said he’d grabbed the wrong bag. He was probably looking forward to those amazing stuffed peppers himself... And I didn’t even get his name. Wasn’t even that nice to him. Let him ramble all the way to the station, so I wouldn’t have to come up with anything to say. And the whole time...the whole time .... I wipe my eyes. Joey can’t see me crying. Not even for joy . My stash of emergency candles is still intact, under the sink. I light a couple and arrange them around the room. We’re not eating on the floor in the semidark because our lamps are gone and the ceiling light’s down a bulb. We’re having a candlelit picnic, like...like Ratty and Mole, in The Wind in the Willows. Not sure they ever did exactly that, but I’m the mom, and if I say it’s so, it’s so . “My friend Rick’s dad made these clay things with holes, and you put a candle in, and they make stars on the wall,” Joey informs me, when he spots the candles. He holds out his hands. “All clean .” “Good job.” I smile. “Isn’t this like Ratty and

Mole’s picnic on the riverbank ?” Joey pokes at the basket. “They had cold tongue .” “Oh, you want tongue?” I stick out mine . “Ewwwww!” I lean in like I’m going to lick his face. “Bleh-lehleh !” He ducks and curls into a ball. “Mommy, stop !” “Okay, okay; no tongue at this picnic .” Joey insists on calling the oysters mouse brains, and dissecting the stuffed peppers to see how the cheese got inside, but most of the food ends up in his stomach, and he doesn’t throw, squish, or spit any of it. As meals with four-year-olds go, this one’s a success. By the time we’re done, every almond crunched, every chocolate savored, there’s barely time for his bath. He falls asleep while I’m picking out a book for storytime . With Joey safely in the land of Nod, I settle in to check my e-mail. I’ve got a freelance offer: $400 to troubleshoot the UI for some kind of text-to-speech app. Seems low, and I’m not sure how I’m even going to do it, with my laptop on the casualty list

from the burglary. I accept anyway. There’s always the library . The rest’s spam, and a message from Mama, who’s already heard about the burglary. Mrs. Dzhokharova must’ve ratted me out. That’s it: she’s Mrs. Thing again . It occurs to me that I’m not scared to open my email any more. Haven’t been for a while. Joe Sr.’s been quiet for almost two months: no threats, no pleas, no drunken poetry. Not even an “accidental” mass mailing. My phone’s been silent too. The restraining order must be working . I glance at Joey’s door. It hurts my heart, seeing him miss his dad. Everything that happened... He doesn’t understand. Shouldn’t have to. But it kills me, knowing his dad’s gone, and I can’t tell him why. What could I say? “Well, sweetheart, your daddy said some things that weren’t true, and Mommy lost everything she had, and— and — ” Yeah—and have him think I’d abandon him , the second he told a fib . Maybe... “Your father is a selfish, selfish man, who’d see his own family starve, sooner than grow the fuck up .”

No. Not that either . In a way, it’s better he doesn’t know. Better his daddy’s a hero, and Mommy’s a mean old witch. When he’s a little older; when “Daddy had to go on an adventure” stops working .... There’s never going to be a right time . And now, I’m doing exactly what I swore I’d quit doing: letting my dumb, lying ex cast a pall over a perfectly fine day . I plug my phone into its charger. Time to get ready for bed. Got a long day tomorrow, and I think I might swing by that food pantry one more time. That guy should know what his gift meant to me. Maybe I’ll even get his name . He was kind of cute for a bagboy. Exactly the opposite of Joey’s dad—black hair instead of blond; gray eyes instead of brown. Smile lines instead of frown wrinkles . Very cute, now that I think of it .

Chapter Four N ick I’d hoped to coast through today with a minimum of angst. It’s not always so bad: when I can keep busy, when Katie’s around, when there’s no time to stop and think .... But I couldn’t let Katie be the only one left out of her best friend’s birthday party...much as I still think they’re too young to be out at some concert till midnight. Coming up through foster care, I didn’t get too many parties—but even I know tenyear-olds with front-row tickets to the latest hot act, not to mention birthday registries at Barney’s and Tiffany’s, can’t be normal. It’s all too adult, too...boring. What happened to cake and balloons and pony rides ? “The fun part’s just hanging out with their friends .” “Huh?” Rich plops his ass down next to mine. “You’re obsessing over that party again. Look—it doesn’t matter if they’re doing whatever rinky-dink shit we

did as kids, or some twinkletoes princess fantasy, uh...whatever girls do when they get together. They’re kids. They’ll have a good time .” “What’d you do for yours ?” Rich laughs. “Well, mine were all boys. Uh, lemme think—bowling was always a hit. And pizza, or Red Lobster. Oh, and we took ‘em all skiing, for Jimmy’s fourteenth. But that was a disaster. Simpler is better.” He catches himself. “Oh, but I’m sure yours’ll be fine. A concert doesn’t involve spiky poles, or slippery shit, or getting trapped in a giant swinging chair fifty feet in the air .” “Did yours have...gift registries ?” He looks at me like I’ve grown antennae. “Noooo...’cause that would be rude. Like, ‘hey, come to my party. You must spend this much’? Fuck off with that .” “No one has any manners anymore .” Rich elbows me in the ribs. “You’re way too young to be talking like that.” He screws up his face and raises his voice to a high, quavering pitch. “You kids get off my lawn!— that’s you .” “Thaaanks.”

“Anyway, it’s time to close up. Came back here to see if you needed help, or....” He wants to get back to his grandkids . “Nah, go on home. Not a lot left to do .” “See ya next week, then.” He pulls his hat down over his ears. “And quit worrying. You got a great kid. She’s not gonna get corrupted by her rich friend’s diamond-crusted slumber party .” I grimace. Technically, Katie is the rich friend. Will she be expecting the same kind of do, when her own big day rolls around? Will I even be invited ? I grab the broom and dustpan and head out front. The place looks lonely with the lights turned down. Lonely and a touch shabby. The same hardwood floors that gleam mellowly under the incandescent lights just look old and uneven in the dark. The vintage oak counter’s showing all its nicks and dings. Even my Christmas display looks more ghostly than festive without the backlighting . “Everything’s crap if you scratch the surface .” I close my eyes. No one answers. Can’t hear Mark’s voice in my head any more, not like I could when his loss was fresh. Can’t even picture his face. It wasn’t a perfect mirror of mine, for all

people couldn’t tell us apart. His expressions were different; his whole way of looking at you. He was .... What was he like ? I hate that he’s slipping away. It’s only been twelve years . I remember the stuff he used to say—that thing about everything being crap; that was his. But...when I try to picture what he’d say to me now, if he could see me sweeping the floor in my red HAPPY BEAN apron, nothing comes to mind . Cool apron, bro . Lemme get a cloth. It’ll go faster . Fuck this place. Let’s get blasted . Nothing rings true. Would he have mocked me? Joined me? Been proud of me? He slipped away from me, those last couple of years, till there was nothing left. Till I looked up and the brother I knew wasn’t there. It’s like he checked out one day, and that day became a week, a month, a year—and when did it get too late? When did he drift beyond my grasp ?

Was he waiting for me to do something ? I was never that guy, between the two of us. It was always Mark stepping up, Mark with the plan, telling me what to do . He was three minutes younger. I should’ve— should’ve been .... Should’ve made Rich stick around. That guy can talk a blue streak. He could probably have planned Katie’s entire tenth birthday for me, plus Christmas, by the time I’d waxed the floor. He’d have come out for pizza too. That would’ve wasted at least another hour . I flip the “OPEN” sign to “CLOSED” and lean my head on the glass. It’s cold enough to spike my brain like an ice cream headache. Somehow, that’s the last straw. My whole face burns as I choke back tears . When I open my eyes, I’m looking right at the woman from last night—Elina something. No, Lina; she said to call her Lina . She presses her palm to the pane, over mine. I know I couldn’t possibly feel her warmth that fast, through the glass and the woolly thickness of her glove, but I’d swear I do .

I clear my throat. “What brings you here ?” She cocks her head . Duh. Of course she can’t hear me . My only thought’s to talk to her—to see what she’s doing here so late, so far from home—but instead, I find myself enfolded in the warmest hug ever. Not sure whether she reaches for me, or the other way round, but I don’t care; it doesn’t matter. She smells like she’s been baking. I bet she’s a mom— or if not, an amazing big sister. I bite back an undignified sob. Fantastic as this hug is, I’m going to make a fool of myself if I don’t step back . Three more seconds, though . I need three more seconds . One.... Two.... I suck in a deep breath and step away. “Hey! I mean, thanks! Nice to see you again! We’re closed, but if — “ Lina shakes her head. “No, no—I’m not here for more... I mean, you gave me so much! No way I

could eat through that in one night!” Her smile’s still warming me to the core. “No, I actually—I was hoping you’d be here.” Is she blushing, just a shade? “The basket, with the chocolates, and the oysters, and the note....” She clasps her hands together. “You have no idea. I know that wasn’t... I know that must’ve been from you, and... It meant more than you could know. And I wanted to thank you. Maybe buy you a hot chocolate .” I feel like I’ve still got brain freeze. Did she just ask me out ? ‘Course she didn’t, dummy. She’s just being nice . “There’s a diner at the end of the block,” I say . “Great. Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time .” “Nah, it’s the perfect time.” It really is. I need to get out of here. “I was just—ever have one of those days where you’re so done, but you’re not exactly tired ?” “Mm, I’m always tired. Think I was a sloth in my last life .” I find myself laughing. “I was...a big ol’ New York rat .”

She chuckles. “Why ?” “Y’know...’cause they’re not people, but they still kind of live like us. With us. Whatever. Wherever we are, they are. I was—“ I bite back the impulse to bend her ear about Katie and her too-grown-up friends. “Uh...I mean, I don’t get people, sometimes .” “Ha! Me neither .” The diner’s flooding the sidewalk with cheery yellow light. Looks warm inside. Welcoming. When I open the door, Deck the Halls washes over us. Got to be a good sign. I take Lina’s elbow and guide her to the best table, far enough from the door to avoid that frigid blast when the door opens; far enough from the toilets to avoid getting bumped into all night. A waitress ambushes us with a couple of menus . “You two know what you want, or you need a few minutes ?” “Give us a few.” I smile, but she’s already off on her rounds. Busy night . Lina’s fidgeting with her menu, picking at a corner where the lamination’s peeling away. “What’s good here ?”

“Depends how hungry you are .” She seesaws her hand: kinda ? “I’d get the French toast. Goes good with hot chocolate .” “Mmm...been forever since I’ve had French toast. My—uh, I’ve been all about the cereal lately .” Before I can chase up what she was really about to say, the waitress reappears. We both end up getting the French toast. It’s every bit as good as I remember: soft in the middle, crisp at the edges, with the perfect amount of cinnamon . “Don’t think I’ve had this after nine in the morning before.” Lina licks sugar off her upper lip. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s really good.” She goes to cut another bite. Her knife skids on the plate, spattering syrup over her sleeve. “Shit. Sorry. I....” She grabs a napkin from the dispenser. Her hand’s shaking. Can’t tell whether she’s nervous or cold . I fumble for something to say. “All day breakfast’s the greatest thing to happen to American cuisine since—since, uh—“ Shit. What I know about food could fit on a postage stamp . “Fries?”

“Aren’t those French ?” “Oh, yeah—kind of built into the name, huh? But...they must’ve happened to American cuisine at some point.” Lina’s still dabbing at her sleeve. Her fork’s doing a slow slide into the syrup. Should I call attention to that, or—nope. She’s got it. “Besides, is there even such a thing as specifically American breakfast food ?” “Uh...grits ?” “What even are those? I always pictured them as, like...wet sand in a bowl ?” “I think that’s pretty much what they are .” “Yeah, I’ll stick with this.” She takes another bite. “So...you come here a lot ?” “Used to. Been busy lately .” “Busy, yeah....” Either her plate’s suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the restaurant, or I’ve struck a nerve. But all she says is “I feel your pain .” There’s an awkward silence, then, and I rush to fill it. “I...uh, you ever get that thing where you sit down to do something fun, something you want to

do, and your brain suddenly assaults you with, like...a million things you should be doing, instead ?” Her eyebrows shoot up. Was that an overshare? “Were you just in my head, right now? ‘Cause I was just—I was just mentally two-timing this conversation to figure out how many days I’ll have to get up early, and how early it’ll have to be, to make up for tonight .” “Oh? Am I keeping you from something?” Didn’t she ask me out ? “Oh—no! No, sorry!” She grabs a sugar packet and starts messing with it, shaking all the sugar to one end. “I wasn’t trying to say this is a waste of time, or...or.... Sorry. I had—I should probably have got coffee instead of hot chocolate.” She’s got this panicked look in her eyes. “I’m just...saying all kinds of things .” “You okay ?” Lina catches me staring at the sugar packet—poor thing’s about to burst, the way she’s torturing it— and drops it back in the box. She flattens her hands on the table. “Fine, yeah. Just...haven’t had a real human conversation in a while.” She bites her lip. “Ugh. That came out wrong. I’m not making any

sense .” “No, you are.” I slide my hand across the table. My fingertips graze hers. She flinches, but doesn’t pull away. “Let me see... If your life’s anything like mine, every conversation you’ve had lately’s involved someone needing something from you, someone talking to themselves with you as an audience, or someone going on and on about something you...totally don’t get .” “Something like that.” She pincers my index finger between two of hers, like a tiny hug. “Especially that last one.” A little smile plays at the corner of her mouth. “My mom got married last year, and they’re still trying to decide where to go on their honeymoon. She calls me up three times a week, like...is a trans-Siberian rail tour too cliché? Is Greece too touristy? Like I’d have a clue !” I nod, thinking of Katie, and what she’s probably doing right now. I desperately don’t want to go back to my empty penthouse. “Uh, look—I know you probably have someplace to be, but...wanna blow it off? Hit a comedy club, or something? In the spirit of self-indulgence ?” “A comedy club?” Her smile widens. “I could...yeah, I could use a laugh. Let’s do it !”

Whatever that tension was between us, it seems to have gone. I even manage to get Lina laughing with my Seinfeld impression, which Katie tells me is mediocre at best. By the time we’re mopping the last of the syrup off our plates, we’re deep into our favorite episodes: the soup Nazi for her, a tie between the contest and the reunion on Curb Your Enthusiasm for me . I sneakily pay the bill while she’s off washing her hands. She looks confused, but doesn’t make a thing of it. Phew. Money always makes things weird sooner or later... But why make it sooner? For now, we’re just two overworked people with a shared appreciation for dry New York comedy . I can work with that .

Chapter Five E lina I’m not being fair on this guy—Nick, according to his name tag. Did he have that before? Must’ve been too distracted to notice .... I’m not being fair on Nick. I’m not sure what it was —maybe the way he grabbed my arm in the diner; maybe something he said—maybe just that moment when he smiled, and I felt something like a spark... I don’t know. Something put me in mind of Joey’s dad, and my walls went up so fast I practically heard them slam into place. But he was nothing but honest with me the whole time, as far as I could tell . As far as I could tell . That’s always the problem. Everyone seems genuine enough, right till the moment they aren’t. Right till the moment the castles in the air collapse into bricks . Still. I’m being a freak. This isn’t even a date. We’re just two sort-of-acquaintances, grabbing a

bite and a laugh. I can enjoy this. Hell, I deserve it. Doesn’t have to mean anything . The comedian’s stammering his way through a routine about how fat girls at least have big tits, but what do fat guys have? He’s sweating through his shirt. Think he twigged to the audience’s general contempt two punchlines in. Now’d be the time to change lanes gracefully, but I’m not sure he knows how . This is my chance to make it up to Nick for that weirdness in the diner. I lean in and whisper, “Not sure whether to give him a mercy laugh or let him die up there .” “Oh, let him burn.” Nick tips me a wink. “This guy’s clearly an asshole. Booo-oooo !” “Oh my God!” I duck my head, choking back a laugh. “What if he comes and heckles you at work ?” “Bring it on. Boooooo !” Nick’s booing opens the floodgates. The bad comedian flips us all the bird and storms offstage to a chorus of jeers and whistles . The next guy’s better: one of those misery-is-

hilarious types. “So two weeks later, I’m at student health: yup. Totally herpes. So what do I do? I fuckin’ propose! I mean, I am saving myself so many awkward conversations, so much burning— and, folks, I do mean burning—rejection. And I don’t even have to go all-out on the ring, ‘ cause — “ “I feel bad, how hard I’m laughing,” whispers Nick. “If any of that’s true ...” “He’d never admit it on stage if it were .” “Yeah...but are you a hundred percent sure ?” I open my mouth to say something about how you can never be that sure of anyone, but a tide of laughter drowns me out. I pretend to join in: some things are best left unsaid . I wonder if I’ve lost my capacity for trust. I mean, here I am with a guy who volunteers at a food pantry, gives fancy picnic baskets to complete strangers, and puts up with their weird, awkward diner conversation—if I can’t relax with him, who am I waiting for? A literal saint ? It’s late by the time the show’s winding down and we’re spilling out onto the street, still giggling at our favorite parts .

“The one with the elbow awareness,” Nick gasps, “where was he even going with that? I kept waiting for him to get to the...to make some kind of point, but it was just — “ “I know, right? Like, you get on the subway, you suddenly lack all elbow awareness, and...? What? You elbow someone right in the face ?” “I don’t even know! It was like...like he just enjoyed saying ‘elbow awareness’.” Nick’s arm finds its way around my waist. I think I like it there. I .... I keep talking, to keep my paranoia from running wild. “I’m going to start using that. Like, if someone’s being inappropriate, making everyone uncomfortable, I’ll be all, ‘yep. She lacks elbow awareness ’.” He pulls me a little closer. “Let me know if I’m ever lacking elbow awareness .” Should I pull away? Let my head rest on his shoulder? “You’re—you’re good. Master of your elbow domain .” “Oh—Seinfeld ! Nice reference !” “Why, thank you!” I go with doing nothing, leaving

him in charge of the physical contact situation. But that might seem weird, too, if he’s holding me tight and I’m not doing anything. I fumble for something to say. “What time is it ?” He has to pull his arm back to check his watch. Shit. Now it’s gone, I...kinda want it back. “Eleven thirty. Oh—I should drive you home !” “You’re going to drive all the way to Brighton Beach?” Suddenly, alarm bells are blaring. Can’t have him knowing where I live. Too close; too soon. I play it off like a joke. “You even know your way off the island ?” “Hey, I’m a living map of the city.” He grins. “Used to walk everywhere, back in the day. Literally wore the soles off my shoes. Probably know Brooklyn better than you.” His arm links with mine again. “My car’s just back at Happy Bean .” Fake address—I’ll give him a fake address, and slink the last few blocks like a walk of shame . A light snow starts to fall as we veer off into the parking lot. Nick reminds me of a kid again, the way he tips his head back to catch a snowflake on his tongue. “Love this kind of snow,” he says. His consonants are slurred from trying to talk with his tongue out. “Big puffy flakes .”

“The best’s walking to work right after a snowstorm. When it’s still all perfect and sparkly.” I put out my hand and watch the flakes melt on my glove. “Walking home kind of sucks, when it’s all just a gritty, icy dog toilet.” I tip my head back to watch the flakes spiral down. The wind sets them whirling around my head. It’s dizzying. I stumble back a step, and collide with Nick—when’d he sneak up on me? I relax into it when his arms wrap around my waist. They’re good arms: strong. Warm. On impulse, I turn around . And...there he is, red-cheeked from the cold, gray eyes sparkling. Smiling down at me like the cat that got the cream. Is he... Sshould I close my eyes? Let him kiss me ? He brushes the tip of his nose against mine, back and forth. My heart melts a little. Maybe he’s nervous too? It’s been a while; I should say something—I should — He kisses me. I hear someone laugh—at us? Can people see? Are we — The kiss is over before I’ve calmed my racing mind enough to enjoy it. Too swift for second guesses, I’m chasing his lips with mine, and he is a good kisser: soft lips, just the right amount of tongue, one palm on my cheek. My own hand’s on his waist,

holding him close, and when’d that happen ? I feel something smooth and cold at my back. He’s pressing me up against someone’s car—his, I hope —and this feels like more than a goodnight kiss. His body’s firm and unyielding against mine, full of a wiry kind of strength. Bet he could pick me up, throw me down .... “This okay ?” He’s asking, but he’s grinding up against me in a way that says he’s pretty sure I’m fine with it . “Keep going .” Guess I am . No—I definitely am. There’s a heat in my belly I haven’t felt in...in way too long, and I’m barely holding back from hooking a leg around his waist and giving myself over to whatever he wants to do to me, over the back of his car. He’s got one hand in my hair now, the other under my shirt. The wind’s freezing on the strip of bare skin around my waist, but I can’t bring myself to care. I want him to manhandle me more. Want him to — “You feel so good .”

“You—you too.” I don’t want to talk. Never know what to say. I kiss him some more. If he’d just bite my lip, if he’d just...oh! And there it is! Oh...and he’s nibbling my neck, and I’m shivering and burning, grinding shamelessly against the bulge in his pants. Whatever’s got into me...whatever’s got into us, I don’t want it to stop . “We should—“ I hear the peep-peep of an electronic key, and a lock pops behind me. I let him lower me into the back seat. Something goes sliding, and my elbow knocks something else off the seat—something that flops open and sends papers spilling to the floor . “Oh, I dropped your — “ “Fuck it .” There’s a ton of crap back here. This guy might be many things, but a neat freak he isn’t . And he’s on me, pressing me into what sounds and feels like a pile of plastic bags. The door clunks shut behind us, and the sounds of the street give way to crinkling plastic and squeaking leather, and Nick’s breathless laughter as we fit ourselves into the tight space. Instead of claustrophobic, it feels incredible, the way there’s nowhere to go, no space that isn’t filled with him and me and the closet’s

worth of shit he stores back here . One of his hands is pinning my hair, pulling a little. I tug against it, loving the sensation of restraint. His other hand’s down my pants—forward as hell!— and I can’t hold back a gasp as he finds the right spot . “You like that ?” “Would it sound slutty if I said yes?” Did I seriously say that out loud ? “Only if I’m slutty for doing it in the first place .” “Keep—keep doing it .” He’s got my shirt open, sleeves pushed down my arms—no room to work my hands free. I wonder if he knows I’m trapped, if that was his intention all along. Can’t hide anything like this. I glance down; fuck. Had to go for a sports bra; what’s he going to — He’s pushing the dowdy thing out of the way— huge hands; God, he could probably wrap them most of the way round my waist—and just like that, I’m exposed. Flat on my back, helpless, and he’s devouring me, kissing me everywhere— is that me, moaning like a hussy ?

“Fuck, I could cum just like this,” he groans . “Don’t.” I can feel his dick throbbing against my thigh. “Do you have—I didn’t bring any condoms, or ....” “You want to ?” I really do. “Yeah, if you’ve — “ “My wallet’s in my back pocket .” “My hands are tied .” His eyes go wide, as he takes in the state of me, trussed up with my own shirt. “God, that’s hot .” Seconds later, I hear the wrapper tear. He sits up as far as he can without hitting his head on the ceiling, so I can watch him roll it on. I can’t see much in the glow of the dashboard, but I can make out strong thighs, narrow hips, and a proud cock jutting straight up . “It’s...it’s been a while,” I warn him . “Me too .” I lift my hips. He tugs down my pants just enough to wedge himself between my legs. I try to kick them off the rest of the way, but my boots won’t let

me . “Bound hand and foot,” he murmurs, low enough that I’m not sure he meant me to hear that. It sends a thrill down my spine all the same. I’m hot all over, back already arching as he pushes inside. He doesn’t even use his hand to guide himself; he’s got both of them in my hair, forcing me to look him in the eye as he takes me. Not that I’d be looking anywhere else. His eyes are black with lust, lips slightly parted. It occurs to me, with a shameful little shock, that I probably look just as desperate. I’m panting for it, making sounds I don’t ever remember making . “Give me—“ I shut my mouth quick—what was I about to say ? He seems to get it anyway, picking up the pace, thundering into me like the bombs are falling, and this is our last chance. I can’t lift my hips to meet his thrusts; all I can do is beg for more... And I do. I’d probably be blushing, but I’m so dizzy it feels like there isn’t a drop of blood in my head . “Are you—are you close?” Sounds like he is . “Whenever you’re ready....” I can never quite get there with a guy—feels like I almost could this time, but... I can’t be the girl who puts his back out

making him pound her for an hour in the back of a...a...whatever kind of car this is . “I’m—“ He shudders all over. “Oh—oh, that’s—“ I feel him throb inside of me, over and over, and for a second.... There’s a tingling, a warmth; my toes start to curl, like I could nearly .... “You...you all right?” He’s sort of...half-collapsed over me, one arm keeping him from crushing me completely . “Fantastic.” I feel a sudden laugh well up inside me, and swallow it down so as not to give the wrong impression. “We...we fogged up your windows. Anyone walking by would totally know ....” “Mmph...let ‘em.” He does the nose-rubbing thing again. Feels...affectionate . “A cop could see .” “Ugh, lemme bask! This is my first afterglow in...uh, embarrassingly long.” He pulls out, though, and makes a token effort at tugging his pants and my bra into place. “There. All good .” I manage to free one arm enough to give him a light swat on the back of his head. He messes with our

clothes a bit more, and soon, we’re kind of halfsitting, half-lying across the seat, snuggled under his coat. It’s warm, and his heartbeat’s slow and soothing even after all that exertion, and ... ...and it feels like five seconds later I’m waking up in a panic, with the first light of dawn in my eyes . Joey!—fuck—what time is it ? Nick’s arm’s in my face. I check his watch as I wriggle out from under it—almost seven! How the hell did I ...? My pants are still somewhere around my thighs. I shimmy them back up as subtly as I can. I cannot do the crack-of-dawn drive to Brighton Beach with some stranger I’ve fucked out of nowhere. What was I thinking? I wasn’t even drunk, wasn’t even buzzed, and — —and it was good — —and I’ve got to get out of here, stay on my side of the tunnel, pretend this never happened. Can’t afford...can’t do any of this . Nick grunts and stirs in his sleep, but doesn’t rouse when I ease the door open. I grit my teeth when it clunks shut—don’t wake up, don’t wake up, and if

you do, be too tangled in your pants to chase after me— and then I’m practically sprinting for the subway . It’s not till I’m halfway home that I realize my shirt’s still hanging out of my pants, and I’ve left my coat behind. My makeup feels smeared. A quick look round tells me no one’s paying attention. Thank God for phones and tablets and Angry Birds . No one who matters ever has to find out .

Chapter Six N ick “Everyone else’s parents sent a driver .” How late did the Sharps let those kids stay up? Katie’s got full-on suitcases under her eyes, and an attitude to match . “Yeah, well, everyone else’s kids’ll miss out on pancake breakfast with their dads .” “We already had breakfast. Fruit and pastries and champagne .” What!? “You had — “ “Non-alcoholic— duh . ” I cannot wait for this “duh” phase to be over. “All right. Well, we can still go to the park, say hi to the animals .” “Zoos are cruel.” Katie whips out her phone. Clearly, Twitter needs to hear about her evil, clueless dad. I open my mouth to tell her to knock it off, but fighting with a tired, grumpy kid doesn’t

seem like a good use of my time . Besides, I’m kind of grouchy myself. Woke up half an hour ago to an empty car and a king-sized crick in my neck. My mad dash across town barely got me to the Sharps’ in time to be pulled up by their doorman: “Excuse me, sir, but there’s something unfortunate on your shoe.”—last night’s condom, of course ; where else would it be?—and Katie wanting to know why I was so late and...homelesslooking was how she put it. She and her friends shared a nice giggle over that . Checking my reflection in the lobby on the way out didn’t do much for my ego: I do look pretty rough. My hair’s sticking up on one side, and there’s syrup on my shirt from the diner. And I’m missing a button—when and how did that happen ? Well, I have a fair idea when, and the how isn’t much of a stretch, but .... “Cindy Rajania’s mom says you’re nouveau riche . ” I blink. “Uh...and what did you say to that ?” “I said her mom’s a nouveau bitch .” “Katie, Jjesus!” I’m practically crushing the

steering wheel. Calm down. “Next time, you stick your nose right in the air, and tell Miss Cindy Rajania that by European standards, there’s no such thing as old money in a country as young as America .” “Whatever.” And she’s tweeting again. Or texting. Or whatever it is she does on that thing all day . “So...no park, then ?” “Huh? So I’m grounded? Just for saying ‘bitch ’?” “You just said it again.” Sometimes, I swear.... I take a deep breath. “And, no, you’re not grounded. I thought you didn’t want to go. I was all ‘let’s go to the park’; you were all ‘zoos are the worst’. Do you want to go ?” “Ob -viously .” By tween girl logic, maybe . We end up skipping the zoo in favor of skating. Katie dives into the back seat in search of her skates, and what’d I do with that condom wrapper? Is there anything...anything incriminating back there? Is she about to — “Daddy?” She’s got her skate bag in one hand, a

lady’s soft sheepskin coat in the other. “Whose coat is this?” Busted . “Oh, that’s, uh...that’s Mary’s, from work.” My face is burning . “What’s it doing in your car ?” Good question. “I gave her a ride home last night .” “In the back seat?” Katie looks doubtful. “With the junk ?” “No, she...uh, the heater was blasting in her face. Guess she must’ve got hot, tossed it back there.” I reach for it. “C’mon, give it here. Let’s get our skates on before everyone else scratches up the ice .” Katie’s bad mood is gone by the time we hit the rink. I don’t even try to keep up with her as she twirls circles around me. This could be an idea for her birthday: skating, hot chocolate, and...something to do with horses? Makeovers? Or am I supposed to fly them to Aspen? Apparently, the tenth is a big one. Like a dry run for sweet sixteen . Still. Christmas comes first. One set of sky-high expectations at a time .

As soon as I’m positive Katie’s not looking, I go through Lina’s pockets. There’s a pack of spearmint gum, a tin of no-nonsense cough drops, an old bus transfer, and—paydirt!—a card with Cyrillic script framing a steaming plate of food. There’s an address in English, and a phone number underneath . I flip the card over. Scrawled on the back, I find Mon AM; Weds AM, Thurs-Sat PM . It’s a schedule—her shift schedule? This has to be where she works . Monday AM, huh? I could swing by tomorrow for lunch. The coat’s the perfect excuse. She’s got to be missing that by now . Then again, maybe — Katie skates up behind me and throws her arms around my waist. “Race me, Dad !” “Aw, no, don’t make me — “ But she’s already away. I take off after her. Her skates barely seem to touch the ice. I feel like a bear lumbering after a cheetah. Still, it feels good to stretch my legs, and by the time Katie’s looped all the way round and come up behind me again, I’ve

decided on borscht for lunch tomorrow . There were two of us in that car, and from my perspective, we had a great time. If she felt differently, I want to know. If she didn’t .... Hell, I just want to see her again. It’s been a while since I did something crazy. And, more than that, I felt something. Those few seconds in her arms, outside the Happy Bean—it felt like coming home. Felt like getting something back that I didn’t even know I was missing. I’ve got to find out if that was twelve years of grief catching up with me at once, or...or a genuine moment of understanding . “Why are you carrying that around?” Katie’s eyeing up Lina’s coat again . “Forgot my gloves. It makes a pretty sweet muff .” “Ugh, Dad! Don’t say ‘muff !’” Where’d she learn to be offended by that? “Fine. It makes a pretty sweet...hand-warmer. And people will think you have a vulgar mind if you get grossed out by proper words used in their proper contexts .” “People will think you have a vulgar mind .” “Come on. Don’t start that .”

“Come on. Don’t start that .” I zip my lips. Katie can do the let’s-copy-Dad thing for hours . She conks out on the couch the second we get home. Poor thing must’ve been up all night. I toss a quilt over her and head for my study . Concentrating on work proves tougher than expected. I find myself indulging in the kind of time-wasting crap I look down my nose on other people for: a quick peek down the Facebook rabbit hole is on the verge of becoming a full-on spelunking expedition, when it occurs to me to investigate what Katie might’ve said about me on Twitter . @gardengnomeparty * 3h my dad has old popcorn in his hair and doesnt even know trollolol @gardengnomeparty * 3h @cinnndyboohoo my dad says u r noveau rich too haha @gardengnomeparty * 1h

skaaaaaating wohoo! thanks dad ur cool for ur age Can’t believe I’m getting misty over that. Not that she thinks I’m cool for my age, but that she wasn’t actually badmouthing me in the car. A quick scroll through her feed reveals nothing more than a sweet kid having fun with her friends. Good . I should check out the contacts on her phone again. Make sure I still know everyone on there . I should check out the contacts on my phone . Takes me a few seconds to remember I put zzz in front of all my friends’ names, so they’d drop to the bottom of the list, out of the way of work stuff. The words fucked-up priorities come to mind. I stuff them back down. Not fucked up: practical. Normal. Everyone — —and there it is, zzzMark , automatically transferred from phone to phone for the last decade plus. I used to call it sometimes, before his plan expired and the number went out of service. I can still hear the message, if I concentrate: You’ve got Mark Carter. I’m clearly not here. I can see your name in my missed calls, so don’t leave a message unless it’s important . I have a vague memory of screaming “Come the

fuck back! Is that important enough?” into his mailbox, about a month after he...did what he did . A couple of months after that, I called to hear his message and got a “this number is out of service” robot . On the first anniversary of his death, I called and got someone else. That was the worst . I hover my thumb over his contact, not sure what I’m planning to do—call it? Delete it? Add more z s to the front, till it plunges so deep into bottom-ofthe-list hell I’ll never stumble across it again ? I end up keying in another number, instead, the one from Lina’s business card. Maybe she’ll have a Sun PM scheduled. I could use a friendly voice. I could — An aggressive male voice barks something in a language I assume to be Russian . “Uh, yeah—hi—you wouldn’t happen to speak English ?” “English, yeah. What you want ?’ “I’m calling for Elina; not sure if she’s — “

“I told you once, I told you a thousand times: lose this number!” The guy slams down the phone hard enough I’d swear I feel the vibration on my end . Wonder who pissed in his Cheerios ? I scroll through the rest of my contacts, but there’s no one else I feel like talking to. Not even sure who half these people are . Would it be a total dick move to wake Katie up so I don’t have to be alone ? Yes. Yes, it would .

Chapter Seven E lina Should’ve called in sick. Almost did: haven’t had a lazy day of blanket forts and Hungry Hungry Hippos with Joey since...shit; the leaves were still green, my last full day off. He’s been whiny the last few mornings, not wanting to let me go. Hate having to choose between giving him Christmas or giving him every other day of the year . Can’t even ask which he’d prefer. Can’t let him live in a world where he knows it’s one or the other . At least Mama still had my old bike, rusted all to hell and with two flat tires, but...fixable. Not sure I’ll pass it off as new, but I might manage shiny. Pretty close to the right size too. All I need are the training wheels, and that’s the big present taken care of . The bell dings behind me: order’s up . Not sure what Vanya’s doing back there, but the level of steam pouring out of the kitchen is out of

control. A person could suffocate in that. Worse still, I’m hot and clammy all over, hair wilted flat to my head, damp clothes sticking to my skin. And I smell like a giant cabbage. Won’t even have time to stop home before class; I’ll be stinking up Intro to Digital Integrated Circuits Design like nobody’s business. Everyone’s going to hate me . And someone’s snuck into my section, right at the back, cozied up in a booth that’s supposed to fit four people. I’m in the weeds; Katya’s barely breaking a sweat—who thought I needed another table ? At least he seems to know what he wants. His menu’s still face-down on the table. Dodging a busboy with a tray of dirty plates, I make my way over . “Dobryy d —oh !” It’s him, it’s Nick, from two nights ago. Bad, not good, so not good! He must’ve followed me, and how weird is — “Hey, there .” Nope. No way. Shutting this down. I stick out my chin and cross my arms across my chest. “What do you want ?”

He gives me a smile he probably thinks is disarming. “Ah...borscht ?” Ugh. “It’s borshch. And you can’t have it. The soup of the day’s kislye shchi . ” “You’ve got me at rather a — “ “It’s sour cabbage. Want it?” He can flash me that butter-wouldn’t-melt smile all he wants. This shit is stalking. How’d he even — He’s holding up my coat . Oh. Egg on my face. But a little on his face, too: who just shows up ? “Sorry,” he says. “I know this looks strange. But I figured you might need this, and the address was in your pocket ....” Right. Okay. Still.... “You could’ve called.” Too harsh? He is kinda doing me a favor. “You’re...kind of lacking elbow awareness right now .” He holds up his hands. His eyes are twinkling, like he’s holding back a laugh. “To be fair, I did try calling. Some angry guy slammed the phone down

so hard my ear’s still ringing. Guess you didn’t get the message ?” That...does sound like Vanya. Fine. This might not be totally creepy. “You should have the pelmeni. ” I try a conciliatory smile. “It’s basically ravioli. Really popular .” “Sit with me. Just for a second .” So, this guy was never a waiter. “I’ve got six other tables .” “Meet me after, then. When’d you get off ?” “Four, but I’ve class right after.” I glance over my shoulder. No-one’s trying to get my attention yet. “Look, I’m not blowing you off. It’s just, y’know, lunch rush, and... You really caught me by surprise. I have kind of a history with guys showing up unannounced .” “Yeah, I might not have thought this all the way through.” He at least has the grace to look sheepish. “What about tomorrow? I’ll come to you. Wherever you want .” Tomorrow—Joey’s got a checkup in the morning, and I need to get to the bank at some point, but.... “The Aquatic House at the Botanic Garden. I can

be there at one .” Nick breaks out in a genuine smile. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to check that out. Orchids, right ?” “Water lilies too .” “It’s a date.” He ventures a wink. I’m not sure whether to be charmed or irritated. His confidence certainly appealed to me in the back of his car. And I can’t say he seems threatening . “A date, then.” I finally take my coat. “Thanks for bringing this back. I looked pretty stupid rocking three cardigans on the bus this morning .” “Hey, I have it from a reliable source that women’s clothing is all about layering .” “Yeah....” My look of disapproval’s somehow twisted itself into a grin. “I’ll be back with your lunch .” I catch myself wiggling my ass just a little, as I walk away . The rest of the day drags like nobody’s business: having something to look forward to makes it worse, not better. I keep spacing out, having to write down orders I’ve taken a million times before.

Vanya yells at me twice. Threatens to report my woolgathering to my mother. She had to go and marry him . Class is no better: all I can think about is whether Nick meant a date -date, or if it’ll end up being the “So...that was a horrible mistake” conversation . It wasn’t... Was it ? Nick could’ve let me down easy right there in the dining room, returned my coat and walked out of my life. He wouldn’t have to see me again if there weren’t...more . I think I want there to be more . I’m still mulling over the possibilities when I stumble home after sunset. Joey’s already in his PJs, and the babysitter’s crashed out on the stack of cushions where our couch used to be. I’ve already paid her and sent her on her way when I notice the thermostat’s cranked to seventy-two. What is this, a sauna? I’ll have to talk to her about that . “Joey, honey ?” “Yeah, Mommy ?” “Have a good time with Maria ?”

“We made hand turkeys and watched TV on her phone .” Not sure I like the sound of that. “What’d you watch ?” “Difficult People . ” Are you kidding me ? “It was boring.” Joey starts going through my purse. Doesn’t take him long to find the Junior Mints I left him. “Can I have these ?” “Yes—but next time Maria wants to watch TV, you find something else to do, okay ?” “Yeah...can I get a 3DS ?” At, what, $200 a pop? Ha, ha...ugh. “Those things are bad for your eyes. How about...a coloring book ?” “No....” “One of those piano things like Emin’s got ?” “Yeah!” He mimes banging on a keyboard...with a fair bit of force. Maybe not the quietest idea. Hopefully, he’ll forget I offered .

“Okay—Mommy’ll see what she can do. Don’t eat all those mints before bed .” “How many can I eat ?” “Five. You can have the rest tomorrow, after you’ve been a good boy for the doctor .” I stretch out on the warm spot Maria left on the cushions. Feels great to get off my feet. Joey climbs all over me and feeds me a Junior Mint. Wish I had that kind of energy . I find myself drifting in and out of sleep. Joey’s heavy in my arms. Someone’s playing country music a floor below us. It’s still too warm. I feel like a lizard on a rock, sleepy and sunlogged. When I come to my senses, Joey’s dribbled chocolate goo down the front of my Griboyedov Café uniform . Add laundry to my to-do list . I manage to get Joey’s teeth brushed and tuck him into bed without waking him up all the way. He barely manages a sleepy “’Night, Mommy,” when I turn off the light . I’d like to hit the sack myself, but I spend the next hour and a half on the fire escape with a toothbrush and a bottle of white wine vinegar, scrubbing the

rust off Joey’s bike. Most of the original paintjob comes with it. I pack it in when my fingers are too numb to hold the brush. Few more nights of this, I’ll be ready to paint. Then, I just need to keep Joey from peeking out the window till Christmas . I’m just congratulating myself when I see it: a tiny orange light on the stove . Fuck. Holy shitting motherhumping fuckfuckfuck . The lower right element’s on—barely on, like I must’ve spun it just shy of the click—but on nonetheless . No wonder it’s so hot in here. How long...when’d I last...? This morning? Last night? How’s the place still standing ? I creep up like the hot element’s going to jump up and burn me. The snap of it finally switching off seems impossibly loud: how did I not notice its absence ? I sink to the floor and sit with my head in my hands, listening to the ticks and creaks of the cooling element. This is what happens when I get distracted. This is what happens when I let myself drift, even for a second. Joey doesn’t have anyone else. I can’t be...can’t be —

“Gotta do better .” I spend the time I’d meant to spend studying going over the kitchen, the bathroom, the child locks, looking for anything out of place, anything that could be a problem. I find a loose nail under the sink, a carton of expired milk in the fridge, and half a bottle of antifreeze I don’t remember buying. It’s on a high shelf, but I toss it anyway . I go to bed feeling like shit. No, worse: like a terrible mother . I’m standing Nick up tomorrow. He’s one more luxury I can’t afford . Nick Go in. Talk to her . She’s serving heaping plates of—beef stroganoff? —to an elderly couple dripping with Old World elegance. They’re laughing, definitely at something she’s said. She’s smiling too. Relaxed. In her element . C’mon. It’s not like she really stood you up . The old lady picks up her fork and makes a show of examining it. They all laugh again .

She had to work. She didn’t have your number. She’s probably hoping you’ll show up . Lina leans in conspiratorially and says something that has the geezers in hysterics. The old lady’s still snickering into her handkerchief long after Lina’s retreated to the kitchen . She was never like that with me—never that effortless, at ease . She’s got a life, and I’m horning in on it. Kidding myself. The other night, that was—hell, maybe she was having a bad day too. Maybe we were both after any port in a storm, and now she’s waiting for me to figure it out and fuck off. Well, this is me. Fucking off. Off I fuck . My feet aren’t moving . Lina comes out of the kitchen again. She’s got a tray of glasses brim-full of some kind of bright red drink. It’s not even sloshing as she walks. Bet she’s an amazing dancer. We could’ve — I spin on my heel. The longer I linger, the harder it’ll be to walk away . I make it all the way to the end of the block. There’s a weird, narrow storefront I didn’t notice

before, hung with carpets and sparkling crystals, screening off whatever’s inside. Got to be some kind of New Age joint: there’s a sandwich board chained out front, with a crystal ball and tarot cards painted on it. There’s one word underneath, printed in stark block letters: FATE . If that’s not a sign, what is ? I don’t believe in signs . I turn around anyway. Fate, desire, loneliness— who cares? Worst she can do is kick me out. Or have that angry guy do it, I suppose. Whatever. I can take rejection . Lina spots me right away this time. I’d hoped her expression would tell me everything I need to know, but she’s flashing me the customer-service smile. At least she comes right over . “Nick! I’d ask what I can get you, but I guess that’d be an explanation .” Well, she’s not outright hostile this time. That’s an improvement. I slap on my best confident grin. “Think I got that covered: like an idiot, I didn’t give you my number, so you couldn’t call and cancel when you had to cover this shift.” I add a little brow-waggle. “Somewhere in the ballpark ?”

She nods. “Couldn’t have put it better myself. Still, I do feel bad enough to feed you on the house. You can even have that borshch today .” Admitting I’m not a hundred percent sure what borshch even is, that it’s the only Russian dish I could name off the top of my head, doesn’t seem like a great idea. Besides, I’ll probably like it. The thing I had yesterday was great. “Yeah, sure—let’s have that. And a raincheck? After your shift? Probably too late for the gardens, but we could still ....” Lina’s brow furrows. Here it comes: the awkward brushoff, made worse by the fact that I’ve now committed to lunch. “Uh...can I get back to you on that when I bring out your food? Gotta check with my—check how late they need me .” “Oh, yeah. Definitely. Take your time .” The borshch proves to be a thick red soup with a dollop of sour cream swirled in. Not bad at all. Comfort food for a cold day. And the raincheck’s a go—even better . She meets me outside at quarter past four. She’s changed out of her uniform, into a long-sleeved green dress that looks so warm I’m tempted to go in for a hug. But something tells me to use my words.

Feels like there might be an elephant or two haunting the room . “So, the other night ....” Lina shakes her head. “Could we save that for later? I thought... Let’s do something fun first. On me .” “What’d you have in mind ?” She looks around. “Well, you’ve already eaten, so....” Her gaze lights on the fortune teller’s sign. “You know, I’ve been working here three years, walking by that place every day, and never gone in. Wanna get our palms read, or our cards, or whatever ?” Got to admit I’m curious. “Sure .” I’m pleasantly surprised when she slips her hand into mine for the short walk. It had crossed my mind she might’ve said yes to avoid having to serve me after turning me down—but no one holds hands to be polite . The fortune teller’s shop’s pretty much what I expected: kind of musty and Halloweeny, with shelves upon shelves of woo-woo nonsense. There are crystals and brass bells, animal skeletons,

shriveled things in jars, books that look like they might’ve been new when the printing press came out, and more carpets and beads hanging from every wall and rafter. A massive crystal ball dominates the room. It’s lit from below, presumably to give it a magical air . Lina nudges me, jerking her head to one side. I turn to look, and come face to face with — “Shit! Is that ...?” “Hope not !” Because... It looks like a shrunken head . “It’s gotta be fake.” Lina’s shrinking against me, like she doesn’t want to be anywhere near it . Bells tinkle in the depths of the store. A sweetlooking middle-aged lady comes out. Apart from the rings weighing down every single one of her fingers, she’s dressed kind of boringly, for the surroundings. “Ah—admiring Horace ?” She named the thing ? “It’s really....” Lina catches my eye, like, a little help ?

“Fascinating,” I finish . The lady takes a seat at the table, and starts shuffling a deck of cards. “Couples reading ?” We exchange glances . “Sounds good,” I say. A second later, it hits me— what if she gives us a terrible reading? Even if Lina doesn’t believe in this stuff any more than I do, that kind of thing tends to stick. Like when you meet someone with a doofy name, and forever think of them as a dork or a goofoff, no matter how serious they are . “So, what do we do?” Lina’s already taken her seat. Nothing to do but follow suit . “Shuffle the cards three times each. Think of a question, but keep it to yourself .” Right. Sounds simple enough. While Lina’s concentrating on the deck, I shoot the fortune-teller a look, like make it a good one, or else! She stares back impassively. Fantastic . It occurs to me to try to stack the deck, somehow— at least keep the Death card out of the mix. I’ve read enough horror books to know it’s in there somewhere, biding its time, getting ready to laugh

in my face . Before I can so much as sneak a peek at the top card, the deck’s being snatched from my hands. Maybe it’s not too late to grab Lina’s hand, run out of here—would that look totally psycho ? Okay, stall. Say something . “What’s your name ?” “Floria.” She lays out five cards in an X shape, face down . “Oh, is that — “ “Ssh.” Floria turns over the first two cards. No Death. Well, that’s — “The Five and the Nine of Pentacles.” She points at Lina, then at me. “You’ve lost everything. You’ve built everything from nothing .” That cannot be what it says . “You—“ She’s on Lina again. “You thought you’d found everything you could want, only to see it revealed as illusion. Your burden is great. Debt and obligation stoop your shoulders. You can only see the light at the end of the tunnel when the sun is up... And for you, it’s been a long, long night .”

Maybe I can derail this with a joke. “What about moonlight ?” Floria stabs her finger at me. “And you! You’ve fed your hunger, but you can’t forget what it’s like to starve. You should be on top of the world, but all your passion, all your self-denial, have only got you nine-tenths of the way. There’s a void at the heart of it all .” She’s...not totally wrong . “Next card!” She flips it over with a thwip . “This one’s for both of you: the Seven of Swords. So much unsaid between you! Everyone has their dark places, but you—what do you think you’re protecting? Grasp the nettle, or see the weight of those secrets break your backs !” “Hey, now! That’s — “ “And your last two cards represent the keys to your future. Turn them over yourselves .” I’m tempted to refuse, but Lina’s already flipped hers. There it is: the fucking Death card, like my obsession summoned it to the top of the deck. Mine shows a hand holding a sword . “Death, and the Ace of Swords, reversed.

Transformation or chaos; a new beginning or a confusing end. It’s quite clear: if you don’t know what you want, you won’t stand a chance of getting it. You can confront your secrets and stride forth together, or go round in circles and lose your spark. And it is quite a spark; that would be a shame .” “Wait—was Death the good card, out of those two ?” “It signifies unavoidable change—the shedding of the superficial, the unnecessary, that which is holding you back .” “And the other one ?” Floria waggles her finger at both of us. Her rings sparkle in the glow of the crystal ball. “Lack of clarity. Forty dollars .” The shift in subject’s so abrupt I don’t think to go for my wallet till I see Lina fishing out a couple of bills . “No—forty dollars from you .” Floria’s looking me dead in the eye. “Weren’t the cards clear enough ?” I feel myself turning bright red. I was going to pay! Worst fortune-teller ever! Couldn’t she have said we’d have two kids, a Golden Retriever, and a

house by a stream? Would that’ve been so hard ? Lina seems to be finding the whole thing hysterical. She’s barely reining in her laughter as she ducks under the hanging beads in the doorway. “Tell us something we didn’t know, eh ?” “Huh?” I’m glad she’s not taking it hard, but I’m still kind of reeling . “Well, I mean, she went straight for the lowhanging fruit, didn’t she?” She ticks the points off on her fingers. “One—my coat was nice when I bought it, but it’s seen better days. Yours is a new Brioni. So my star’s falling; yours is rising. Two— we had to look at each other before we agreed to a couples reading. So we don’t know each other that well. Obviously, there’s going to be secrets. We haven’t had time to tell each other much of anything, let alone everything. So—shocker!—we should see more of each other. What’s that, cold reading 101 ?” Can’t argue with any of that. “Still. I felt judged. Didn’t you feel judged ?” Lina snorts. “Everyone’s judging everyone all the time .” “Oh? You judging me right now ?”

“Guilty as charged.” She winks . I’m still kind of up in a bunch. I blame that stupid Death card. Plus, even if it was nothing but cold reading, I feel oddly exposed. Embarrassed, even. And it’s way too soon for money to enter the conversation. Time to change the subject. “Okay, so...tell me a secret, then .” “A secret....” The WALK sign comes on. Lina steps out into the street. “I always make a couple of mistakes when I post on Facebook, so people won’t think I’m stuck up. Like, I’ll put it-apostrophe-S, when I mean, y’know, ‘its ’.” “Oh, lame secret !” “What? I thought it was pretty juicy! I mean, isn’t that the pinnacle of insecurity ?” “Well, when you put it that way....” I pretend to think it over. “Nope. Still lame. Gimme another .” “No way. It’s your turn .” “Fine—okay. Here’s how it’s done: I almost didn’t come into the restaurant today. I was standing outside, looking in, and I couldn’t shake the idea that...maybe you did stand me up. Like, on purpose .”

That seems to catch her off guard. She breaks stride for a moment, and when she starts walking again, she’s definitely put some distance between us. “I did .” Wait...seriously? I hate this secret . She’s not looking at me. “It’s not that I didn’t want to see you. It’s just... This is going to sound insane, but I got home last night, and realized I’d almost burned my building down.” There’s a low note of horror in her voice. “I’ve been distracted since— since... I’ve had a week you wouldn’t believe, and then that happened, and I thought...what the fuck am I doing? I don’t have time for—I don’t have room for— It’s not fair to you .“ “But you didn’t tell me no when I showed up anyway .” “Guess I’m selfish.” A car whooshes by too fast, sending up a plume of slush. There’s barely room to dodge. We wind up squished together under a yellow awning. I can’t resist the temptation to tuck her hair behind her ear. She leans into the touch, and I feel it again, that sense of rightness, of connection . I’ve got to get to the bottom of this. “Selfish? Selfish how ?”

“’Cause I’ve got—that woman was right, about the debt, the obligations, the—the crushing weight, or whatever. I’ve got two jobs, classes; I’ve got... I’ve got no room in my life. It’s like... You’re this great dress I keep seeing in the window at Bloomingdale’s, but even if I could afford you, I’d never get the chance to wear you. I’d be fooling myself .” “So, I’m...a backless Vera Wang?” I wish she’d smile . She shakes her head. “You’re a luxury I can’t afford. But I ....” My confidence is kind of flagging, but hey, fake it till you make it. I grin nice and wide. “But you’re going to splurge on me anyway .” “You’re cocksure .” “That’s because I’m not some ballgown you’d never have anyplace to wear.” I lean in and lower my voice. “Think of me more as...a slice of chocolate cheesecake: rich, creamy, fattening... And you can gobble me down any time .” “Gobble you—oh my God !” “Mm, and I’m good with everything. You can have

me on your lunch break, in between work and school—with your morning coffee.” I waggle my brows. Finally, finally , she laughs . “You’re ridiculous .” “You totally want me .” “God help me, I do .” Now seems like a good time to try for that hug. She melts into it. This can’t be a mistake . I’m not letting her get away .

Chapter Eight E lina Actual cheesecake. The genuine article . I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate reality. Nick claimed to crave the stuff, after suggesting I think of him as dessert, and here we are. Eating actual cheesecake, ginger for me, black forest for him. In a very tiny, very red hotel café that feels like it belongs in the 1920s. This might be a terrible idea, but I can’t deny it’s a delicious one . Nick spears a cherry with his fork. “Where’d you go ?” “Mm?” “You had a faraway look .” “Daydreaming, I guess. This place is so... It looks like there should be a back room somewhere, with people drinking bootleg whisky and dancing the Charleston.” I take a sip of the sweet ice wine he ordered. It goes well with the spicy cake. “How’d you even know this was here ?”

“Told you—I used to walk everywhere. I did mean everywhere. ” He grins. “This place is great in the summer. They crank the AC. Stepping into the lobby’s like... aaaaaahhhhh . ” “Oh, I love that. Especially when it’s humid .” The small talk’s getting kind of...not awkward, exactly, but it feels like the other shoe’s hanging in the air. Sooner or later, one of us’ll have to — “So, I’m not normally a one-night stand guy .” And there it is. I barely avoid choking on my cheesecake. “Whoa! Okay...so you just dove right in .” “Couldn’t think of a delicate way to put it.” There’s cream in the corner of his mouth. He licks it away while I’m trying to decide whether to tell him about it. “Didn’t want you thinking I was out there, like...running some kind of, uh...back seat...sex brothel .” Back seat sex brothel? At least it wasn’t just me wondering how I must’ve looked, giving it up so easily on what wasn’t even an official first date. “And I’m not, like...some back seat ho ?” “I thought you might’ve had buyer’s remorse when

I woke up alone .” “No, not—I mean, I didn’t wanna do the whole awkward drive home thing, if—if you were regretting it, or we found out we had nothing in common halfway across Brooklyn Bridge. But mostly, I had to get back .” “But it was—“ Nick’s dragging his fork through the chocolate sauce on his plate. “What I’m trying to say is... It was good , right? I know I didn’t imagine —it wasn’t all in my head ?” His sudden bashfulness makes me bold. “You asking me or telling me ?” Nick’s eyes narrow. “It was better than good.” He pushes his plate aside so he can lean across the table, into my space. “You looked in my eyes. You trusted me. You were tangled in your shirt, but you didn’t even want to break free. You tilted your head back just so, like you were — " A waitress brushes by. Nick stops talking, but doesn’t break eye contact. The second she’s out of earshot, he picks up where he left off, voice low and intense. “—like you were offering yourself up for my pleasure. I wanted to burn that into my memory. Carry it around with me forever .”

I remember that moment. He was looking down at me like he wanted to eat me alive. I was ready to let him . Nick’s gaze is boring into me. He expects me to say something; of course he does. I’m awful at this. I don’t have a sexy voice; I can never find the right words. “You just...took charge,” I manage . That seems to have been the right thing to say. He inhales sharply, and his hands curl halfway into fists. “You abandoned yourself to me.” His gaze has me pinned. I don’t dare move. “Give me your hand .” I reach for him . “No—under the table .” My face goes hot. I want to look around, make sure no one’s watching, but I feel like if I glance away, the spell will be broken. I drop one hand into my lap. Moments later, I feel his close over it. I don’t resist as he moves it to his thigh, then higher, till I feel the swell of his cock. He’s rock hard and twitching under my palm . “Someone could see ....” “I’ve got you.” His hand tightens on mine. There’s

something possessive about the way he presses it against him. “You do trust me, right ?” He has no idea what he’s asking me. I nod anyway. I don’t distrust him, and I want to see where this is going . I’m not sure whether he starts to move my hand, or if I’m the one who can’t resist the impulse to stroke him through his pants. His eyelids almost flutter shut as I trace the contour of the head with my thumb. I’m leaning over the table at an awkward angle; he’s half-sprawled in his chair. Anyone walking by would guess — “We—we could get a room.” His voice has dropped an entire octave, hoarse with desire . I rub my palm in slow, deliberate circles. “This is a hotel .” “I’m going to need a moment ....” “Oh? Whatever for?” His cock swells in my hand. I glide my palm along the entire length, finishing with a gentle squeeze to the tip. He bites his lip and doubles forward slightly . “Ah...don’t—“ Nick lets go of my hand. I pull it back, but not without one last caress to his inner

thigh. The way he shudders tells me he might need more than a moment to compose himself. I make a show of finishing my wine as he slumps there, breathing heavily . Maybe he’ll punish me for my insolence . Five minutes later, we’re practically undressing each other in the old-fashioned birdcage elevator. Our room’s only on the ninth floor, but even that seems too far, too long to wait. He’s got one hand knotted in my hair, tipping my head to expose my throat. The other’s under my skirt, gripping my hip hard enough to leave marks. I’ve got both of mine up his shirt, exploring the contours of his back. He’s stronger than he looks, all muscle and sinew and thrumming tension . The door rattles open both too soon and not soon enough. Nick takes me by both hands and steps backward into the hall. I follow, finding myself once again unable to look away. He leads me to the first room on the right, and spins me around so I’m flush against the door . “Should I let us in ?” “I—“ He cuts me off with a sharp whisper. “Or should I

have you right here, where anyone could see?” He’s got a fistful of my skirt. He’s twisting it so the hem creeps up my thighs. Nothing’s exposed yet, nothing that shouldn’t be, but — “Wonder if there’s security cameras....” He makes a show of looking around. My own panicky survey reveals a flashing light near the elevator, but I can’t tell whether it’s attached to a camera or a smoke detector . He wouldn’t really...right here? Would he ? Taking advantage of his distraction, I dart my hand into the pocket I thought I saw him hide the keycard in. But he’s faster than me. My fingertips brush the plastic for an instant, and then... Then I’m pinned, both wrists trapped in one of his huge hands, pressed to the door above my head . Shit—maybe he would ! Would I let him ? I never have to answer that question, because he only stares at me for a long, heated moment before I hear the beep of the electronic lock. We practically fall into the room. He kicks the door shut hard enough that we both jump at the crack . And then he’s got me on the bed, hot and

breathless. I’ve lost a shoe, and my skirt’s pooled around my waist . Nick’s still got my hands captive; he never let go of my wrists. His free hand’s jerking at his tie, like he can’t get it off fast enough. He doesn’t even undo it completely, just slips it over his head. Over his head...and over my wrists. I feel the slide of silk, and then he’s tightening the knot, pulling it flush against my skin. “Yeah ?” I nod. Yeah . He rucks my dress up slow. Normally, I’d be uncomfortable with this kind of exposure—the way he’s taking his time, drinking in every inch of me; normally, I’d be trying to pull him closer, hide my body with his. But this is...this is .... Instead of rising self-consciousness, I feel a shameless excitement surging through my body, making my palms tingle and my breath catch in my throat. I hold myself perfectly still under his scrutiny, biting my lip to hold back a whimper when he leans down to kiss me just above the knee . Where last time was urgent, this feels slow and languid. Nick explores me like he’s got all night. I feel myself floating, lost in the sensations, as his palms and lips follow the lines of my body. He

touches me in places no one thought to before, nipping at my collarbone, breathing softly against the inside of my wrist, biting my shoulder when I try to arch against him . The teasing rides an edge between delicious and overwhelming. Is he trying to make me beg? Doubt’s creeping in again: do I say something, or keep mum? He’s making it hard to think, hard to concentrate, one finger trailing down the midline of my torso, between my breasts, over the swell of my belly... And is he disappointed with the softness there? Was he hoping for a firmer, younger, pre-kid body ? Quit ruining it ! I risk a glance at Nick’s face. He looks rapt, utterly absorbed in what he’s doing. There’s something ravenously intent in the way he looks at me, like he’s laying claim to everything he touches . I wish he’d say something . Maybe I’m supposed to say something . I try to find my way back to that blissful haze of sensation, but it’s no use: I always do this. Just when things should be kicking into high gear, all inhibitions forgotten, I —

“Everything all right?” Nick’s cupping my cheek, all gentle concern . “Yeah.” I exhale a little laugh. It comes out too breathy, too shaky. “Just, uh...I—“ What can I say that won’t make me sound like a spaz? “You’re still wearing most of your clothes.” Ugh. Why couldn’t he have stuffed his tie in my mouth ? But Nick doesn’t look put out. “Oh—my pants getting scratchy on that soft skin of yours?” He shifts against me purposefully, so the fabric drags against my thigh. An involuntary shudder courses through me. Nick grins as I snap my mouth shut on an undignified sound. “Undress me, then .” Undress him ? I hold up my hands, assuming he’s going to set me free, but he’s got that wicked look in his eyes again, the same one he got just before he put my hand on his cock under the table. “Uh-uh. No hands .” He holds me steady as I wobble to my knees. Where I’d expected awkwardness, clumsiness, humiliation, I feel...calm. He’s given me a task. I don’t have to guess any more. I can just...concentrate on him . His hand on the back of my head, guiding me to his

fly, is strong—comforting, even. When I take the fabric between my lips and tug, the button pops free easier than I thought. I hear him murmur “good, ” and I keep going, pulling his zipper down in a series of quick jerks. He pushes his pants down himself, and his underwear with them. His cock bounces free and slaps me in the face. A sharp, unexpected spur of excitement lances through me . “Oh!” “Sorry!” Nick reins in his dick with one hand, caressing my cheek with the other, wiping away precum. “Kind of sprang up on me, there .” “No, no...I kinda — “ Liked it —I was about to say I liked it, and what would he think of me then ? I feel my head being lifted, two fingers under my chin. My eyes close: I can’t look . “Hey. Look at me .” I can’t refuse, either. I open my eyes . “You okay ?” “Yeah. Really. I’m just....” He’s looking at me with

such concern, I can’t bring myself to tell him anything but the truth. “It’s embarrassing. I...kinda liked it, and... I didn’t want you think I was...think I was ....” “Think you were what ?” “The kind of person who likes getting slapped in the face with a cock.” Shit—this is mortifying; this is—my face must be as red as my hair, and now he’s worried about me, and I’m blowing it, and how do you fuck up sex? When you have instructions, no less? Seriously, all I had to do was open my mouth and — “What kind of person is that ?” I don’t know how to answer that either. I feel like I’ve waded out into deep water, forgotten how to swim. “I...I don’t know. Someone who...someone weird ?” Next thing I know, my hands are free, and Nick’s rubbing my wrists, where his tie’s left the faintest of red marks. “I’m—hey, listen—this is my fault.” He’s kissing my forehead, gathering me into his arms. “We should’ve talked first. I just assumed, after the other night ....” In spite of my embarrassment, I feel myself

relaxing into his embrace. He’s running his fingertips up and down my spine in an idle and familiar motion, like this is all somehow fine, like the next words out of his mouth aren’t going to be “Guess that’s that,” or “What’s your problem?” or “Mind if I jerk off before I go ? What he really says is “I didn’t mean to embarrass you .” “No, it’s not you. I embarrassed myself .” “I’d disagree with that—for what it’s worth, I think you’re great. Really hot. Open-minded. I like that.” He bumps our noses together. “Definitely not weird. If anything, I’m the weird one. I love to get weird with it .” Why can’t I be like that, embracing my weirdness? “Thing is, I... I can be kind of a perfectionist .” I feel the puff of Nick’s laughter against my neck. “You don’t say .” “So I...during sex—during pretty much anything , actually—but especially sex, because it’s so personal, so exposed... I have this endless internal commentary running through my head, like, should I turn off the light? Is my cellulite showing? Do my boobs look flat from this angle? Are my knees too

knobby ?” “Your...knees?” He reaches down and pinches one of them. “Think mine are knobbier. Aren’t they supposed to be knobby ?” “Hey, I’ll pick on anything. It doesn’t have to make sense.” I retrieve his hand from my knee and twine our fingers together. It’s easier talking like this, spooned in his arms, back to his chest. Like if I can’t see the judgment in his eyes, it’s not there. I keep going: might as well get it all out there. “And then when I have to think of something to say...ugh. Like, my worst nightmare would be if I’d say I liked something, or wanted something, and you’d look at me like a slug in your bathtub, like ew ....” “I’d never look at you like that .” “Never?” I feel him shaking his head. “Even if you were into something, and I didn’t swing that way, the worst I’d say would be no.” He pulls me closer. “And for the record, all that stuff about cellulite and—what was it, bad boob angles?” He does the tiniest of snorts. “When a man has a beautiful woman in his bed, his brain’s more like ‘Yippee!’ or ‘Where do I start?’ than ‘Let’s hunt for imaginary flaws ’.”

It would probably come across as fishing for compliments if I insisted those flaws were real. “I liked what you did with the tie,” I say instead. “Felt good not to have to worry about where to put my hands. To give you control .” His cock swells against the back of my thigh. Apparently, it’s in agreement. “That’s...a huge relief, actually.” He nuzzles up against my neck. “I thought you did, after what happened in the car, but then you seemed—and I thought....” He turns my head again, brushes his lips against mine. “I want us to be on the same page .” I kiss him back, feeling like we finally are. He shifts against me again, one hand cradling my head, the other finding its way back under my skirt. Maybe this time, I can — Something’s buzzing . “Shit—sorry!” It’s my phone; of course it’s mine, and if I hadn’t blown it before — “Mm?” I pull away. “Sorry. It might be—it might be work. I have to get that .” Nick lets his head flop back on the pillows. He

doesn’t seem put out; he’s even laughing, but... It’s got to be politeness at this point, right ? I don’t have time to read too much into it. The text’s from my babysitter: sorry to disturb u. there’s a weird smell and joey’s throwing up . Okay. Not great. And what’s she even saying?—Do you mean he’s throwing up and it smells weird, or there’s a weird smell that’s making him throw up ? the 2nd thing . What the hell? Like...a gas leak? Our building’s all electric... Where would gas even leak from? Maybe —fuck; no time to think. I glance at Nick. “Sorry, I... There’s kind of an emergency. I need to....” Where’d my other shoe go? I’m hopping around, texting one-handed: oK take Joey next door! Mrs. D. should be home. check if smell also in her place, if not, see if joey can stay there. On my way now . Nick’s smiling, handing me my shoe . “Thanks.” “It was hiding under the bed.” He holds me steady while I put it on. “So, I guess this is your coach turning back into a pumpkin ?”

“Yeah, sorry; I—“ My phone’s buzzing again: its just ur place. mrs. d. says he can stay. should i stay 2 or ??? No, it’s fine. Go home. I’ll drop by your pay in the morning . “That wasn’t an escape text, I swear. There’s a...kind of disaster at home, and, uh—I can’t get into it now. Can I, uh...let me write down my number .” “Put it in here.” He’s holding out his own phone. I key my number in quickly and shrug into my coat. “You need a ride somewhere ?” “Quicker if I just walk from here.” I’m being rude, but there’s no time, no time for manners. My hands are shaking; the buttons of my coat keep slipping through my fingers. “Sorry again! I feel — “ “Ssh.” Nick takes me by the hand, and pulls me just close enough to do up my coat for me. He snugs my collar in tight and pulls up my hood. “There. All good. Deal with your disaster, and we’ll pick this up when you’re free .” There’s no time, but I hug him anyway—a quick tight squeeze, and I’m out the door .

Joey’s feeling better by the time I get home, cuddled up on Mrs. D’s couch with some apple juice and a plate of Ritz crackers. No fever, no sniffles—seems like it was just the smell. I fuss with his hair till he starts to get mad, pledge Mrs. D my undying gratitude, and head home to investigate the offending stench . It’s not strong, but it’s rancid . Definitely not gas: this is something organic. Something...rotting. Smells like low tide on a hot day, that fishy, kelpy, wet smell, without the sea breeze to freshen things up . Surely it can’t be coming from inside. We haven’t had fish in weeks, and I took the garbage out just this morning. I step out onto the fire escape, thinking someone must’ve left some trash out there, but the outside air’s...well, if not exactly fresh, no more disgusting than usual . There’s nothing in the fridge, nothing in any of the cupboards, nothing in or under the sink. Nothing in the bathroom or the closet. It hits me that Joey’s probably left some old snack in the bottom of his bag... But there’s nothing in there but a well-loved pack of crayons . What the hell ?

The smell is starting to make me gag. It’s insidious: not that bad at first, but the more you breathe it in, the thicker it gets. Most smells, you get used to them after a while, but this one...nope. Not so much . I drag the fridge out of its nook, but that just leaves me sweating and panting, with nothing to show for it. Same deal behind the oven: nothing but crumbs and a long-lost spatula. I vacuum the empty space, anyway: when else will I get the chance ? This is driving me nuts. Where haven’t I checked? This place is tiny; there are only so many nooks and crannies that could be hiding something gross . I shake out every shoe in the closet. Nothing but dirt . I stand in the middle of the kitchen, spinning slowly, taking in every inch of the cramped space. Cabinets, toaster, oven, fridge—where else is there ? I kneel down in front of the oven. I don’t remember the last time I opened the drawer underneath, with the cookie sheets and broiling pans, but it’s the one place I haven’t checked . The smell rolls out and hits me in the face. I don’t

know whether to scream or retch: not a fish, but a rat, dead as a doornail, skin stretched tight over guts that look bloated enough to burst. Must’ve...must’ve crawled in for warmth, when I left the stove on, and—no. That can’t be right. It wouldn’t have had time to get this dead, this stinky, overnight. We don’t even have a rat problem, or we didn’t—where’d it even .... Ugh. No point obsessing over it. It’s New York. There are rats. I grab a pair of rubber gloves and fish it out gingerly, breathing a sigh of relief when it doesn’t split open between drawer and trash bag . The pong hits me again when I come back from ditching the rat. It’s worse now: opening that drawer truly released the beast. A quick Febrezing only serves to brew a nice rat/lavender cocktail: I’ll have to air it out overnight. Which means it’ll be fucking freezing, which means Joey can’t come home, which means I’ll owe Mrs. Dzhokharova...pretty much anything she could possibly ask for . I fling open the doors to the hallway and fire escape. A chilly breeze starts to circulate. I pour a bag of frozen berries into a pot, top it up with water, and set it to a low simmer. Soon, a fruity, jammy smell’s floating out to me on the fire escape, where I’ve set up camp with Joey’s bike and my

cleaning supplies. Figure I might as well make some headway while I’m freezing my ass off . Tomorrow after work, I’ll swing by the bargain bookstore, see if there’s anything Joey might appreciate . I catch myself wondering if I’ll hear from Nick. He did take my number, but... He could still reconsider. Once he’s alone, with nothing but blue balls to remind him of our encounter, what’s to stop him deciding I’m more trouble than I’m worth? And I haven’t even mentioned Joey yet. Or his dad. Especially his dad. What’s going to happen when he finds out ...? It doesn’t matter. I don’t have time for any of this . But I’ll make time .... I might just be in over my head .

Chapter Nine N ick The smell of Chinese food greets me when I emerge from my study. I never told Katie she could order in... But I never said she couldn’t, either. I think I smell hot and sour soup. Must be for me: Katie thinks it tastes like old soap . “Hey, Dad,” she says, looking up from her homework and a plate of something red and noodley . “Hey, Katie. That hot and sour soup I smell ?” She nods, gesturing vaguely at a paper bag at the end of the counter. “In there. There’s spring rolls as well .” “Thanks.” I plop down across from her and tuck in. She must’ve just ordered: the soup’s still hot enough to scald the roof of my mouth. “Need any help with your homework ?” “Nah. Cindy’s coming over soon. We’ve got our science fair project, and then she’s going to spend the night, so we can set it up together in the

morning.” She looks up. “If that’s okay .” “Yeah, that’s fine. Just, no staying up talking all night .” “I know.” No eyeroll today. She must want something—something more than the sleepover. I nibble on a spring roll while I wait for it . “Dad?” “Mm-hm ?” “I was wondering... When can Cindy and I come to your work ?” I blink. “You want to...what? Come to a board meeting?” Wouldn’t that be boring as hell for a couple of nine-year-olds? I guess there is Take Your Daughter to Work Day, but .... “No, your other work. The volunteer place. We wanna do it too. Cindy’s sister helps out at the hospital, but she says we’re too young .” Well, this is new. “Uh...I’d be happy to take you, but I’m not sure how much fun you’d have. It’s just a lot of sorting through food, checking expiry dates, putting stuff in bags — “

“We can put stuff in bags !” “It gets pretty heavy: there’s tons of cans and jars.” Still, she’s trying to do a good thing. I should be encouraging this. “Okay...how about this? It’s not a good idea for you kids to be doing the heavy lifting, but we got those big windows out front. We usually have seasonal displays, art from the community, that kind of thing. How would you like to come in maybe...maybe Saturday afternoons, and do something with those ?” She makes a show of checking her phone, like she’s seen me do when I’m setting a meeting. “Yeah. We can do Saturdays .” “Saturday it is, then.” I’m about to ask her what brought this on when the buzzer goes off . “That’s Cindy! Later, Dad!” She grabs her books and her phone and clears out, leaving me to deal with the remains of dinner. I’ve got a housekeeper, but it feels rude, leaving trash lying around when somebody else has to pick it up. I even make a halfhearted pass at wiping the countertop, but there’s something else on my mind . I’ve been wanting to text Lina since she rushed out of the hotel, but last night seemed too soon, and this morning was out, given the Weds AM scrawled

on the back of her business card. Tomorrow would be too late, so...yeah. I’ve been gearing up all day. Figuring out what to say. Not obsessing , exactly, but...planning. Planning carefully. Something casual but concerned; enthusiastic, not weird : hey. hope everything turned out OK after you left . had a great time btw. hope we can do it again soon . Oh, yeah. Textual masterpiece. I tap on the edge of my phone, waiting for the ellipsis to pop up on her side. About thirty seconds later, it does. It feels like she’s typing for a long time—maybe typing and deleting. Maybe — Hey yourself! Everything’s fine: just your basic dead rat catastrophe. Thanks for asking! Rest of my week’s looking crazy, but if you’re free Sunday, we could do that garden date. Or something else, up to you . :-) Dead...rat...catastrophe? I’d like to say I’m not familiar, but .... ew, dead rat! where was it, in the walls ?

also, garden date sounds great. maybe dinner after ? Her reply comes faster this time. Wish I could see her face, know if she’s smiling, relaxed, or if — Oven drawer . (The rat .) Lying across the baking sheet like a loaf of bread. Not a CLUE how it got there. X-P And dinner sounds good . Eugh. Reminds me of the time I opened the door to a gruesome little gift from the neighbors’ cat. Or that other time Katie left half a donut in her bottom drawer, and about a thousand ants showed up for the feast . there’s no escape . from vermin . maybe in antarctica . That gets me curious, so I do a quick search: nope. Not even Antarctica’s one hundred percent rat free. I text her that little tidbit .

LOL! Makes me feel less slobby . Knowing it could happen anywhere . Though I’m now picturing some freaked out penguin with a rat running around its feet, like GET IT AWAAAAAAY ! A second later, a penguin emoji follows. I find myself laughing alone at the kitchen counter. I want to keep this conversation going . where are you anyway? home ? Library. The ellipsis icon does its dance, and does it some more. I’m starting to wonder if she’s lost her connection when the next message pops up: Had some work to do w/their computers, but now just enjoying the quiet. Nobody here. Feels like the start of a horror movie. Attack of the Giant Silverfish . ewwwwwwww, don’t say silverfish . srsly, they are my one phobia . with their gross powdery bodies and their antennae on the wrong end .

and earwigs . centipedes. anything with ass antennae . sick. I half expect her to text back a silverfish emoji—or worse, a gif—but she doesn’t prove so sadistic. Sorry. Hate them too. What about you? You at home ? yeah. had chinese food. I pause with my finger on the SEND button. Maybe I should say something else. Something suggestive. Something silly enough she could play it off as a joke if she wasn’t into it, but naughty enough...nah. I go with the Chinese food thing. She’s in the fucking library. Sexting can wait . Mmm, now I’m hungry . Haven’t had Chinese in a while . Or McDonald’s . Miss their fries . Can’t remember the last time I had real, cheapass fast food, either. The fridge here’s always full, or

Katie’ll order us something—neither she nor the housekeeper seem to be into cheap and greasy. Before I can think better of it, I write back, wanna get big macs for our date on sun ? Her response is quick and sweet : :-) I like that she’s not a complete health nut—that she’ll do things like French toast and cheesecake, a burger here and there. Tells me there’s more to her than that skittish, nervous streak. Someone probably scared her; someone must’ve .... Another message pops up: I should get home. Before our date, though...there’s something you should know . oh? A name you should Google: Joe Bentivoglio. And if you want to cancel after, I won’t hold it against you . Shit. Maybe he’s the one .... who is he ? The microwave clock ticks down three minutes before the ellipsis icon pops up. It’s another full minute before her answer comes through: The man

who took everything I had . She stops answering after that. Probably on her way home—or avoiding my questions. I wind up back in my study, staring at a page of Google results I wish were for the wrong Joe Bentivoglio... But the churning in my gut tells me they’re not . Munchausen by Internet: Cancer Scam goes Viral – The Strange Story of Joe Bentivoglio I skip over that one, and the two that follow—all articles from major newspapers. The fourth result looks like a blog post: Jan’s Blobservations – Everything We Know about Joe Bentivoglio, aka ultramar1ne, aka giuseppe_b. I click on that . The post’s a little over a year old. Whatever happened, it’s pretty recent. Pretty raw. No wonder she’s not exactly eager to talk about it . I take a deep breath and start to read . “THE GRAND SCAM: JOE BENTIVOGLIO vs. THE BLAZING BADGER CYCLING CLUB “OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER: OK, so I’ll be posting my own theories in the comments, but this is what we know for sure and can 100% verify. Information is still coming in from a LOT of

sources! Me and Paula and Cherie are checking it out as fast as we can, but we’re only 3 people. For the sake of clarity, I’m not including anything that can’t be proven...but don’t hesitate to speak freely in the comments ! “For those who have no clue what this is about, a) what rock have you been living under?, and b) Joe Bentivoglio, aka ultramar1ne, aka giuseppe_b, is a lying assbassoon who claimed to have cancer and ripped members of the NY cycling community off to the tune of at least $20,000...THAT WE KNOW OF . “I first noticed ultramar1ne on the BBCC Facebook group. He hadn’t yet been “diagnosed” (yeah, right!), and seemed like an active member in good standing, and hot. (And his profile said he was single, but as we all know, that turned out not to be true.) I’d say hi to him at the post-ride cooldowns at Full Circle, but we didn’t really run in the same circle (y’all know I’m a back-of-the-pack girl; he was a speed demon ). “When it came out that he had cancer, it didn’t seem suspicious. Most of us didn’t even hear about it from him. He honestly seemed like the LAST thing he wanted to do was talk about it. The story was he’d confided in a few close friends, and didn’t necessarily want everyone to know. Which, yeah,

makes sense. And it also makes sense that people would spread that shit. Cancer is interesting ! At the same time, the rumor started circulating that he and his fiancée were hurting for cash, barely keeping a roof over their heads. They’d even had to call off their wedding to pay for his treatments . “There was a collection within a week of the news going wide. This was organized by Mike B, Mike R, and Paula, and I can confirm that NONE of them were involved in the scam in any way. (All have been proven to have lost money themselves.) So far, I’ve had confirmation that all but 4 members contributed (and the 4 I can’t confirm are no longer active, and couldn’t be reached). I think I threw in $50 . “For anyone keeping a running total, that initial pass of the hat brought in close to 3K . “Next ride, he showed up with his head and eyebrows shaved. I remember noticing the eyebrows and thinking, what a relief, he’s not one of those cancer fakers. They always forget the eyebrows. And I remember feeling like shit for the possibility even crossing my mind. That’s what these types of crooks rely on: our unwillingness to think our friends, family, and loved ones would pull that shit !

“Always, always look a cancer horse in the mouth ! “THE FIANCÉE: We finally met his supposed fiancée, Elina Petrova, the following July. She started showing up to “monitor his condition,” which basically meant riding with him and participating in club activities, without paying any club dues. After her 2nd or 3rd ride, she approached Paula about some fundraiser she was having for his treatments. Only when we saw how far she’d actually got, it was like she’d put no effort in it at all. She had a gofundme page that didn’t even have a picture, and a few posters around her neighborhood for a game night at some restaurant. I think she’d raised all of $50. Which should’ve been a huge red flag, but by then, we were fully invested in their “struggle .” “So we rallied round, plugged the SHIT out of this thing. We amped up the games, went crazy on the food, paid for Facebook ads, plastered the whole BOROUGH with fliers, even rented a hall when we saw how tiny the restaurant was . “RUNNING TOTAL: $9K raised, $1.5K paid out in ad/venue expenses. I shit you not, we went ALL out ! “The whole time, Joe and Elina were borrowing smaller amounts from individual club members, but

no-one had any idea of the scale of this. We weren’t exactly comparing notes. It wasn’t till September that Cherie was like...hey...hasn’t his chemo been going on for a LONG ASS time? Which, I did some research, and it seemed like it COULD go on longer, but a normal course of treatment is 3-6 months. And he’d been doing it for over a year, at this point, while being somehow well enough to go on bike rides the whole time? Something smelled fishy . “That was when we finally started tallying up the financial aspect of it, and this is just from PayPal transactions with confirmed receipts, NOT including cash gifts/non-confirmed e-transfers/food and other goods : “RUNNING TOTAL: ~$19,980 !!!!!!!!! “Once we started investigating, really comparing notes for the first time, everything fell apart. We found doctors who didn’t exist, medications that wouldn’t be prescribed for his specific cancer, records of him on Facebook at times when he was supposedly in intensive care...plus, he and his fiancée couldn’t keep their stories straight about whether those scars came from surgery or (LOL) military service . “Me, Cherie, and Paula were the ones to confront

Elina, when Joe stopped responding to our messages. She claimed to have no idea what was going on, and actually went to an ATM and reimbursed me and Cherie on the spot. Paula also confirms she’s received just shy of $900, but never got a response when she asked when she might expect the other ~$1,200, or when the rest of our members would be getting their refunds . “So far, there’s no solid proof Elina was part of the scam. But the last communication I had with her, she was still living with Joe, and wouldn’t say whether or not she planned on going through with the engagement, so...hmmmmmm.... Draw your own conclusions . “THE SILENT AUCTION: This is still going forward! Everything’s already set up, and no-one wants their donations back, so...what else are we supposed to do? But proceeds will be going to cancer research, and NOT to these scammers . “UPDATE: The auction was an incredible success! I want to thank everyone who came out, and everyone who boosted the signal! Your generosity was amazing, and we actually earned $22,672, which may be more than our combined losses...and not a penny of it will see the inside of Joe Bentivoglio’s greedy pockets !

“SON OF UPDATE: Joe Bentivoglio’s social media accounts have been deleted. Elina Petrova’s are gone as well, which doesn’t look great for her. She returned another $2,250 total to a few of our members who were able to get in touch, but hasn’t responded to e-mails or phone calls since the silent auction. There’s still no confirmation she was actively involved, or knew what was going on...but let’s just say she was either in on it or dumb as a box of rocks. Plus, she didn’t start returning money to anyone besides those of us who confronted her face to face till legal action was mentioned .” I reach the end of the post, and sit there staring. Wow. I’ve heard of this type of thing, but never seen it up close and personal . I feel cold. I reach for my coffee, but that’s cold too. Actually...did I even make coffee before I sat down? Think that might’ve been there from earlier. Gross . She couldn’t have been part of it...right? I mean, she wouldn’t—she wouldn’t tell me where to find it, if that was true .... Skimming the comments, a good half of them are about her—first rule of the Internet: never read the comments! Not many are supportive. Most, I’d call downright abusive. They raise some decent

points, though: why would she return all that money, if not a guilty conscience? Why wouldn’t she leave the asshole right away? How could she live with him, and not notice the unexplained income ? I should text her . I have no idea what to say . I check out a couple of the other articles, and a YouTube clip of a news report, but don’t learn much of substance. There’s a lot of interest in Elina, a lot of discussion of her involvement, her character, her looks...fucking vultures ! I sip my stale coffee. Why does it taste ten times as bitter once it’s cold? Does the flavor intensify with time, or does heat incapacitate the tastebuds ? I’m keeping our date on Sunday. I have to hear her side: I won’t be just another rubbernecker ogling her disaster, refusing to give her a chance. I had a good feeling about her from the start, and I’ve got to trust that. Mark did always say I was a good judge of character .

Chapter Ten E lina Nick texts me Friday morning. Can’t stop to read it: every time I take my eyes off Joey, he’s racing down the boardwalk, trying to pet strange dogs, dig through trashcans, eat stuff off the ground. We’re on our way to the aquarium. It’s an expense I don’t need, but the poor kid deserves a reward. He’s been a real trooper, in the wake of the break-in and the dead rat . I’ve been driving myself up the wall worrying about Nick’s reaction to the Joe debacle, but it’s worse now he’s actually responded. I could be carrying my walking papers in my pocket, without even knowing. I think he’s the type to let me down gently, at least... But I’ve been surprised before . Maybe I should’ve bit the bullet, told him the whole story face to face . But then I’d have had to see it, the horror, the disbelief...the judgment . “Mommy?”

“Yeah, sport ?” “What’s the difference between turtles and tortoises ?” “Ah...I think turtles have flippers, and tortoises have feet. Or—no. Maybe that’s just sea turtles— those turtles in the pet shop had feet. Remember their little claws?” I tickle him under his chin and behind his ears till he admits he remembers. “Eh...I think turtles live in the water, and tortoises are more on land .” “You don’t know.” My four-year-old is mocking me. Guess the “mommy knows everything” years are over . “Well, that’s why we’re going to the aquarium. So we can learn all about turtles .” “Do turtles bite ?” This one, I know. “Yes—yes, they do. And they have salmonella, so whatever you do, look, don’t touch !” “Look, don’t touch !” “Perfect.”

Joey gets a little sulky once we’re in the aquarium and he realizes he can’t take any pictures. I gave him my old digital camera last year, and he loved it, but of course that was stolen. Fortunately, he perks up when he spots the colorful clownfish in the reef display, especially when I promise we can come back when he has a new camera . A new camera... Maybe I can add that to the Christmas list. I whip out my phone while he’s enthralled with the fish and search for cheap digital cameras. Even the shoddiest ones are barely under fifty bucks—and for a little kid, you need something durable, something easy to use. Something that won’t crap out at the first bump or jolt . I wonder, is Polaroid still a thing? Another quick search tells me it is, and I can’t afford it . There’s got to be something . Can’t you take photos with a 3DS? I look those up too: still pricier than Polaroid. Plus, I’d have to get him at least one game if I went with that option . No camera, then. Maybe an Etch-A-Sketch ? Nick’s text’s still sitting there unread. I glance at Joey: he’s poring over the exhibit notes. His

reading’s pretty good, but there could be Latin names in there. I should help him. Besides...which is going to be worse, getting through an aquarium trip with the threat of being dumped hanging over my head, or getting through it knowing I’m history ? I zip my phone into the innermost pocket of my purse. This is the kind of day parents and children are supposed to savor. The stuff memories are made of. And it is beautiful here, all peaceful and blue and rippling with watery shadows . Why do my feet hurt so bad ? I mash down my worries, summon my best smile, and let Joey read me the lowdown on the reef exhibit. He’s bursting with pride, even when he has to stop and sound out the unfamiliar words. Maybe I can get him to do the same thing on shopping trips, to keep him from throwing tantrums—tell him I forgot my contacts, need him to read all the signs. He does love to help . He catches me chuckling at the idea and kicks me in the shin . By the time I’ve convinced him I wasn’t laughing at him, and reminded him we do not kick, Nick’s safely buried in the back of my mind—not quite out

of the picture, but close enough . The aquarium’s small, but there’s plenty to see. Joey seems especially taken with the sea otters. Despite his disappointment when I tell him he can’t take one home, I make it through the afternoon with a cheery kid...and without being guilted into any treats from the gift shop. Maybe, on some level, he gets that we’re running on empty . I end up carrying him home, sleepy and sticky, but still chattering about turtles and sharks. How he managed to get sticky when we didn’t have any snacks, I’ll never know. I make Maria promise to give him a bath before I head for work . The bus takes its sweet time coming. I don’t risk sitting down to wait: it’s hard enough, not falling asleep on my feet. And Nick’s text’s bothering me again—if I read it before work, will I be a mess? If I don’t, will I be able to concentrate ? Ugh! I barely know him! How pathetic am I, working myself into a frazzle over some random food pantry guy, someone I’ve met all of three times — —and been mostly naked with twice ? I’m not this person. I’m tough: I’ve endured much

worse. I whip out my phone, grit my teeth, and read : hey! hope you’re not working too hard ! what time for the garden on sunday ? Attached, there’s a gif of a tiny, mouselike creature falling backwards off a kitchen scale. It is kind of hilarious, but...really? Not even an acknowledgement ? Maybe he never Googled Joe. Maybe he thought about it and decided he wanted the story from the horse’s mouth . I hate not knowing. I should ask. Put myself out of my misery. But then he might demand an explanation, right here and now. Over text. Which I don’t exactly have time for, and can’t face, and— no. Just no . I stick with the question at hand: How about 1? Gives us most of the afternoon . He texts back just as the bus pulls up: perfect. you like greek food? heard about this new place, thought we might try it .

Love Greek ! :-) also perfect. see you sun ! So... He’s still planning on dinner. That’s...probably good ? I don’t end up having a lot of time to obsess over it. The night’s a busy one: from six till midnight, there’s not a moment when my section isn’t full. I get screamed at by some lady who can’t understand why we don’t have ranch dressing, and threatens to leave a bad Yelp review. Some college kid puts a roach in his salad to avoid paying the bill, but he’s not nearly sneaky enough. Half the dining room sees him do it. Two old ladies actually do manage to skip out—one of them in a fucking walker! How the ...? My tips suck, and my feet are beyond pain. I stop feeling them around seven. By nine, the ache’s resurfaced in my ankles. It spends the rest of the shift creeping up my legs till it settles in my lower back . By the time the last diners clear out, well after one, I’m sick with fatigue, barely standing. Vanya shoos me out the door. I feel bad, not helping close up, but I’m in no condition to argue. Especially with tomorrow promising to be twice as bad. There’s a

two-for-one promo on; those are always bad news. They bring out the cheapos and jackasses like nothing on earth . Paying Maria eats up every penny of my tips, and an extra ten bucks to boot. So... Tonight was a bust. All that for—for—I add it up quickly, in my head: a net loss of $16.50 . I could fucking cry . Instead, I put the first coat of paint on Joey’s bike: cherry red, just like I remember. I take a quick shower and faceplant into bed without setting the alarm. Doesn’t matter: Joey’s up with the sun every day. He tries to be quiet, bless his heart, but...yeah. If he’s up, so am I . When I finally find my way to bed, I keep imagining I can smell Joe Sr.’s cheap cologne on my pillow. Takes me forever to fall asleep, and when I finally do, I dream I’m trying to take a bath. Someone’s in the water behind me, with an arm around my neck. He keeps pulling me under, making me cough and splutter. I can’t wake up .

Chapter Eleven N ick I’m half-convinced Lina’s going to stand me up again. Instead, she’s early, waiting in front of the Aquatic House. She waves when she sees me coming. I wave back, picking up my pace as I realize she’s shivering, rubbing her bare hands together . “You should’ve waited inside !” She stuffs her hands into her pockets. “Wasn’t sure if you’d been here before, if you’d know where to go.” An embarrassed look flits across her face as she glances around. “Though, I guess there’s...kind of a lot of signs. And maps. And that arrow thing .” I shrug. “What happened to your gloves?” I seem to remember her having a red, fuzzy pair that made me think of the warmest parts of winter: firelight, hot chocolate, knitted blankets . “No idea. I swear, I came home last night and threw them on the shelf, just like always, but this morning...pfft.” She flips her palms up and rolls her

eyes. “Just...gone. Maybe I do have rats, plural .” “Or maybe it’s the socks-in-the-dryer phenomenon.” I pop up an imaginary sock-puppet and make it speak. “‘Y’know, I’ve loved, loved, loved cuddling your feet all these years. Honestly, it’s been great. Oh!—the memories! I’m getting misty!” I do an exaggerated sniffle. “But I think the time has come...for us to go our separate ways.’” I make my hand-puppet dip its “head” in apparent regret. “’No hard feelings, right ?’” That gets a laugh out of her, but I can tell she’s nervous. I’m not going to draw this out. As soon as I can find a place to sit, that Band-Aid is coming off . I’ve decided I’m more concerned for her than about her. Hours of pacing and reading and obsessing and considering have left me with a gut feeling there’s a whole other side to this story, something that’s made her wary, made her hard. The way she rebuked me when I showed up at the restaurant, that was defensive, not aggressive—I’m more convinced than ever . There’s a rough wooden bench overlooking a fenced-in pond, full of the biggest lily pads I’ve ever seen. It’s partly shielded from the walkway by low, swaying branches: a peaceful spot. I guide her

to it. Lina seems relieved to take a seat, leaning back and stretching her legs like it’s the best feeling in the world. I notice she’s wearing sensible shoes, cute but flat . “Been on your feet a lot ?” She groans. “You have no idea. Waiting tables on a weekend, with a two-for-one special going...ugh.” For a moment, her eyes close, and I can see how tired she really is: there’s a hollow, bruised look to her eye sockets, and she’s pale, really pale. I feel bad doing this, but putting it off might be even worse . “So...Joe .” Lina exhales roughly. “Joe.” She’s fiddling with the zipper of her coat, staring at something beyond the lily pond . “So, I guess I....” In all my fevered imaginings, I only thought about what she might say. Probably should’ve concentrated on my side of the conversation. “I had some... I figured I should hear your side .” Lina’s lips tighten. “My side....” Outside, the sun comes out from behind the clouds. It filters through the hanging leaves and sparkles on the water .

“Maybe if you started from the beginning—how you met? What you saw in him? Like, I guess he couldn’t always have been the monster I read about online .” She nods. The sun’s in her hair, too, bright golden spots dappling her head and shoulders. I’m tempted to call the whole thing off, tell her it’s too beautiful a day to waste on painful memories. Tell her I trust her, tell her it’s none of my — “I was eighteen when we met. He was twentyfive.” She’s still playing with that zipper, twisting the tab back and forth like she’s trying to tear it off. “It was... I was walking home from work, and he started walking beside me, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He was fresh out of the Marines, just back from Afghanistan, and he didn’t —“ She breaks off abruptly. “I ....” “What’s the matter ?” “I mean...here you are, trying to get to the truth, and I have no idea... I—even the things I took for granted, the things that were just...part of who he was....” A cloud passes overhead. She dips her chin under her collar, like she’s trying to hide behind it. “He had the uniform. The medals. Even the scars. But I never met anyone he’d served with, never saw him get mail from, uh...from any kind of

veterans’ groups, or.... Wouldn’t there be something, if you’d ...?” I shrug again. I’m honestly out of my depth: military service isn’t my area of expertise . “Anyway, I guess, just... Whatever I tell you, you might want to take it with a grain of salt. If any of it’s lies, all I can do is swear they’re not mine .” She’s going to hurt herself with that zipper: she’s gripping it tight enough that I can see where it’s digging into her fingers. I pull her hand away and find it cold as ice. Rubbing the warmth back into it seems too intimate for this moment, so I offer my gloves instead. She pulls them on without looking at me . “So he seemed like a good guy at first ?” “Mostly. Kind of irresponsible, didn’t always plan ahead—but we both had great jobs. So if he spent half a month’s rent on a giant TV, or stayed out all night, I’d...chalk it up to immaturity. Boys being boys. I suppose the first real red flag was....” There’s a distant look on her face, like she’s trying to remember. “Let me think... We’d been together six years, so we’d been engaged for one—I was halfway through my first year of college. No student loans—I was so proud of that. But when I

went to pay for the second semester, my check bounced. Insufficient funds. I couldn’t understand: I didn’t even suspect him. I thought it was a mistake .” The blog post said pretty much the same thing: you don’t suspect the ones you love. You don’t want to. Why would it be any different for her ? Guess it wouldn’t be any different for me, either . Keeping an open mind .... “He....” Lina rubs the back of her neck like it’s hurting her. “This is going to sound idiotic. Like, how anyone could fall for such bullshit .... ” “You trusted him .” “I did, but it was more than that.” There’s finally some color in her face, an angry red flush, high across her cheekbones. “He called the bank right in front of me. I could hear someone talking on the other end, a lot of ‘yep’ and ‘uh-huh’ from Joe— and he yelled a lot. I still wonder, if none of it was real, how’d he... Why didn’t they hang up on the psycho having a fake conversation ?” “Could’ve called that weather phone thing, screamed at a robot voice the whole time .”

“No one would ....” She stops talking as an older man in a heavy wool coat passes by. He takes us in: her tension, my presence in her personal space. His eyes narrow, like he’s thinking about saying something—asking if I’m bothering her, most like—but he shuffles on without a word . Lina watches him till he’s safely out of range. In those few quiet moments, the furious spark keeping her going seems to gutter out. Her voice is toneless, exhausted, when she picks up the story. “So, the phone call—yeah. He hung up. Acted devastated. Even took the blame .” “What’d he say happened ?” “Our account was frozen ‘cause he made some mistake with his military benefits, forgot to fill out a form....” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “None of it made any sense—how he’d be collecting benefits in the first place, with a full-time job; how there’d be no notice of a problem; how our credit cards would still be working, but our checking account shut down—but none of that crossed my mind .” “Not sure it would’ve crossed mine either .”

“You don’t have to say that .” I offer up a wry smile. “Well, I work in banking. I would’ve had some questions... But I wouldn’t necessarily expect anyone else to. No one knows how that stuff works. They make it confusing on purpose .” “Like how a one-dollar overdraft turns into a chain reaction of fees and penalties that takes a month to pay off ?” “Exactly like that .” “Still.” The door opens and shuts behind the man from before. It lets in a chilly gust. Lina wraps her arms around herself. “Still, I feel pretty dumb .” “When’d the whole cancer thing start ?” “Not long after that. And I had no choice but to believe it. Because it wasn’t fake—or it was, but.... I mean, fuck! ” She hugs herself too tight, digs her nails into her biceps. Takes a deep breath, and another. “He never had cancer, but he sure as hell had all the symptoms .” That I wasn’t expecting. “So he actually — ?” “Made himself sick. And once it started, there was

no time to think. Barely time to sit down. Work all day, sitting up with him nights; there were times I thought he was dying in my arms. I called 911 six, seven times, and those hospital stays were real. And the bills that poured in: real. And of course, he stopped working.” She huffs. “That is, he said he stopped. In truth, he’d never started. It was always my money, all of it, everything ....” Her eyes are glistening, her hands knotted into fists. I open my mouth to say something, but she doesn’t give me a chance . “If I got frustrated, if I dared question anything, he’d get sicker. From the stress, he said. He’d— even if we disagreed over something completely unrelated, like...which of us forgot to pay the phone bill...somehow I’d come out feeling like a monster, like I was picking on a dying man .” She rubs at her eyes. The rough wool of my gloves leaves her skin pink and raw. “I dropped out of college. Took a second job. And the money—he was taking it to Atlantic City, the whole time. When I thought he was getting blasted with radiation, pumped full of chemo, he was... He was hitting the slots. Or the tables. Whatever.” Lina’s rage is back: she’s practically thrumming with it, taut as a bow. “Bet those were hangovers I’d come home to, on his treatment days, not....” She thumps her own

knee with the flat of her hand. I lay my own over it, to keep her from doing herself an injury . “So when you say he took everything ....” “Everything.” Lina rubs her eyes again. “I lost my job when the story came out. My friends, my reputation; even my mother—she didn’t outright say it, but the I told you so was hovering in the air. And when I went to the cops, I found out what I thought was our joint account was actually his, his alone, so... So in their eyes, so was the money .” “Didn’t the, uh, the Badger Club press charges ?” She shakes her head. “No. I—I managed to talk them out of it. Not that I thought they shouldn’t, but he’d—but I was—he’d made me part of it !” “With the fundraiser, and everything ?” She nods. “I was afraid if it went to court, I wouldn’t be able to prove I had no idea what I was doing. I talked to a lawyer—he said in civil court, there’s no innocent until proven guilty .” I nod. “Yeah, that’s true .” “So I paid them back all I could, over the next couple of years. Anyone who could show me a

PayPal receipt, a Facebook conversation—any kind of proof money had changed hands—I made good on it. Couldn’t repay the whole amount from the fundraiser: it was too much. But I sold my engagement ring, most of my clothes, my computer —just...everything that was mine. I know it made me look guilty, but what could I do? Whether I meant to or not, I helped drag them into it .” I kind of hate myself for how relieved I feel, hearing the agony in her voice, watching her curl in on herself. I know genuine pain and outrage when I see it. There’s just one thing still bugging me, one thing that feels too cruel to ask . She spares me the need: “I couldn’t even leave him. I had...nothing left. Nowhere to go. And when he found out I’d gone to the cops....” She ducks her head so I won’t see the tears glistening on her lashes . I finally slip an arm around her shoulder. She shudders, but I feel some of the tension leave her body. “What’d he do ?” “I came home from work a couple of nights later. He was waiting. He...he didn’t hit me, but he slammed me into the door. Punched the wall beside my head. There were bits of plaster in my eyes, and I was desperately trying to blink them out, and

he....” Her voice drops to a whisper. “He reminded me Charles Joseph Whitman was a Marine, just like him .” The mass murderer? “Jesus Christ .” “I started saving again the next day—to get out, I mean. College... That was a memory by then. Took me nearly another year, a restraining order, and three changes of address to get rid of him. Even now, it’s only been two months since his last e-mail .” Shit. “And I show up at your restaurant, all ‘hey, let’s go on a date !’” “You couldn’t have known .” “I could’ve guessed.” Looking back, I really could have. The angry restaurant guy seemed to think I was someone else, when I called—someone persistent. And right from the start, she was cautious. Didn’t share much about herself. Even the way she snuck out of my car that morning... She never wanted me to drive her home. Never wanted me to know where she lived . “So you...believe me?” I realize she hasn’t looked at me once since she started talking. Isn’t looking at me now. She’s watching the dust motes dance over

the water’s surface. I cup her chin as gently as I can, and turn her head toward me. Her eyes dart to the side . “Look at me .” “I—“ Lina closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them again, she’s meeting my gaze boldly. Defiantly, even . I brush my thumb over her cheek. “I do believe you .” “You’re not... You’re not just saying that ?” It hits me like a ton of bricks: all this time, she’s been fighting for my trust. What can I say to win hers? “I, uh—I grew up kind of rough. I knew guys like Joe, scammers, leeches, people who’d take advantage just because they could. The lies, the excuses, the way they’ll turn on you in a heartbeat, make you feel like the crazy one—it’s all part of a personality type. Nasty, but predictable .” “Wish I’d predicted it .” And...foot, meet mouth. “No, I didn’t mean you should’ve predicted it. I meant more... It follows a pattern, that kind of behavior. You can see it in retrospect, but not so much when you’re in it.

That’s how it works: they build up this larger-thanlife story, keep it moving so fast there’s no time to spot the holes .” Lina’s shoulders slump. She draws in a long, shaky breath, like she’s been suffocating this whole time. I can only imagine how the last few days have been for her. She isn’t shivering any more, and that cold, bloodless look’s faded away, but I run my hands up and down her arms all the same. When I feel her relax, I lean in and kiss the top of her head, her nose, her fingertips. I stroke her back, pat her knee, offer whatever physical comfort I can. She smells nice, up close like this, clean and warm and natural . She only pulls away when the door whooshes open and chattering voices float in. It’s a bunch of kids, working on a school project from the looks of it. They’ve all got notebooks and pencils, and one of them is consulting a list . “We should check out the plants too,” I say, wanting to keep some distance between us and the kids. Feels like we’re sharing a private moment. “If you’re still up for it, that is .” She stands up, brushing imaginary dust off the back of her pants. “Actually, I love this place. I have a whole kitchen garden going on at home. Or I did,

till last week .” I curl my little finger around hers, and am pleased when she curls back. “I’d have guessed that about you .” “Oh?” “Yeah—you seem, I don’t know—the gardening type .” She isn’t quite laughing, but I feel like there’s amusement there, just beneath the surface. “And what is the gardening type ?” “Practical, humane... Oh, and I couldn’t help noticing, when I was holding you so close, you use unscented shampoo. So—the nature type. Environmentally conscious. No perfumes or dyes .” She makes a sound somewhere between a snort and an exhale. “How do you know I don’t just buy the cheapest shampoo ?” “’Cause the scented stuff’s more popular, so it’s produced in greater bulk. That makes it cheaper. And easier to find. If you don’t want to be walking around smelling like a bouquet of shampoo and soap and deodorant, you’ve got to put some work into it .”

That earns me a sharp look. “Can’t keep much hidden from you .” “So I’m right ?” “That I’m this...gardening type?” And there it is, finally, a real smile breaking through. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I am.” Her smile widens into a grin. “You, though—you smell like shoe polish. What type does that make you ?” “The type who was getting ready for a hot date, and realized he had scuffed loafers ?” “Ah—the vain type !” I elbow her playfully. She elbows back. I’m starting to feel good about the rest of this date .

Chapter Twelve E lina The succulent smell of roasting lamb and warm tzatziki is making me weak in the knees. I honestly can’t believe I’m this ravenous—didn’t think I’d be able to eat at all. Digging into the past felt a lot like scooping out my guts and presenting them for inspection. I’d never really talked about my humiliation before. Never had anyone who wanted to hear it . “Didn’t think it’d be this...hipsterish .” I startle a bit. “Mm ?” Nick gestures wide. “The décor; the... My God, are they eating off chopping boards ?” I hadn’t noticed. But...yep. Those would be chopping boards. And Mason jars. And — “Sorry—I haven’t actually been here before. Someone at work said it was great, and, uh....” His train of thought gets derailed by a waitress carrying a soup-filled fishbowl. “Did I just see — ?”

It’s ridiculous, all right, but all I can concentrate on is the rich, sharp smell. “Avgolemono. In a goldfish bowl .” “We don’t have to eat here .” “I don’t know—it smells pretty good. The presentation might be a bit — “ “Wack?” “Yeah—wack —but the food still seems fine.” Besides, I’m way too hungry to leave. I didn’t have time for breakfast, and by the time lunch rolled around, my stomach was in nervous knots . He pulls a face. “It does smell delicious. Just... Don’t start thinking I’m one of those food snobs who won’t eat anything that isn’t, like, locallygrown quinoa on an organic avocado bun .” The hostess is looking our way, so I hide my laughter behind my hand. “I...don’t think that’s a thing. And besides, weren’t we originally going to do McDonald’s, before you heard about this place ?” “Good point .” We end up seated in a quiet booth, tucked away

behind a concrete column. When our food comes out, we barely manage to rein in our laughter till the waiter’s out of earshot . “What...in the actual fuck is that supposed to be?” Nick’s eyeing up my Greek salad—or rather, my large cube of feta cheese, my snifter of chopped vegetables, my raw onion flower, and my glass of vinaigrette dressing . “How do I even eat this?” I poke at the cube of feta to break it up. It crumbles messily off the side of my chopping board. There’s no spoon to sprinkle it over the vegetables—or am I supposed to dump everything out on the board? Won’t the dressing get everywhere ? “Maybe you do it like a body shot? Like, you lick the cheese, take a gulp of the dressing, and bite on a cherry tomato ?” “Oh, that’s gross!” I’m laughing too hard to even try. “And didn’t you order the gyros ?” “I thought I did.” Nick pokes at his appetizer. “This is...kind of a bread bowl? Filled with, uh...grated lamb? Tzatziki? And a pickle ?” “Think there’s some lettuce round the edges .”

“And this lonely tomato cube.” He lifts up a leaf of lettuce to reveal what does, indeed, appear to be a tomato cut into a cube. “Why? Seriously, why ? ” “Wanna just scarf down our, uh...whatever these are...and hit the nearest McDonald’s ?” “God, yes!” Nick tries a cautious bite. “It doesn’t taste terrible, but I don’t think I could handle two more courses of this .” “Me neither.” I end up pouring the dressing over the vegetables, and ignoring the feta and onions entirely. I may be turning over a whole new, less self-conscious, leaf, but this—this is too messy to attempt. Especially in front of someone I’m really starting to like . Munching Big Macs in his car isn’t necessarily less messy, but the last of the bubbling tension seems to ebb away as we mock the “secret sauce” for obviously being Thousand Island dressing, and speculate on how most people probably like McDonald’s because it makes them nostalgic . “It’s totally a childhood food,” says Nick. He takes a sip from his soda. “Mm. Their Coke is amazing. But it’s like... Where did you go, when you were a kid, out with your friends, and you got hungry? The one place you could afford, and the one place you

kind of weren’t supposed to go, ‘cause it’s cheap crap.” He motions with his burger. It gloops secret sauce on his cuff. “Shit. Oh, well. I take a bite of this, and I’m twelve again. I can practically feel the curb outside the arcade digging into my ass .” “Now you’re making me nostalgic .” He grins. “Remember when their menu had maybe ten different things?—hamburger, cheeseburger, Big Mac—and those scalding hot apple pies ?” “I remember those. And their pancakes .” “They have pancakes ?” “Yeah—those are my big McDonald’s memory. My mama—she’s this amazing cook, so, like... If I asked for McDonald’s, she’d take it as a personal affront. Like I was saying, I preferred fast food to her cooking. But once a year, we’d drive out to Indiana to see my aunt. It’s a twelve-hour trip, so we’d set off about five in the morning. And when the sun started to come up, we’d pull over for a McDonald’s breakfast. Pancakes and sausages .” “They have sausages ? ” “Menu’s totally different if you go in the morning .”

“It’s like... My world’s been turned upside-down .” His world.... “You know... It occurs to me, I still don’t know that much about you.” I stir the ice cubes around with my straw, suddenly nervous. “I mean... You volunteer at the food pantry, you like Christmas, you do something involving banking, and you’re kind of a slob .” “And ruggedly handsome .” “And—“ I can’t repeat that back to him with a straight face. He’s definitely handsome, but the lumberjack type he’s not. More...polished. Refined. With a hidden steel underneath. “You’re very handsome. Really .” “That didn’t sound so sincere !” “It’s the rugged part, not the handsome part. Maybe if you had a five o’clock shadow, one of those Clint Eastwood growls — “ He looms over me suddenly, the effect only slightly spoiled by the burger he’s still brandishing. “Well...all I have to say to that is... This is a Big Mac, the most powerful burger in the world. It’d blow your tastebuds clean off. You’ve got to ask yourself one question: do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk ?”

I shove him off, laughing. “You sound more like Batman than Clint Eastwood .” “Ohhhh; clipped my funnybone on the steering wheel!” He rubs at his elbow . “That’s what you get, trying to be all manly in confined spaces .” “Way I remember it, you liked me getting manly in this particular confined space.” He raises one eyebrow. I feel myself reddening . “Well... Now you’re just changing the subject .” “What do you want to know ?” I have to think about that for a moment—not because I can’t think of anything to ask, but because I don’t know where to start. The remark he made earlier about a rough childhood springs to mind, so I go with that. “Where’d you grow up ?” He gestures at the window. “Here. The city. Around.” If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was avoiding the question. He takes a big bite of his burger—now I know there’s something he’s not telling me. I’m curious, but we’re having too good a time. Don’t want to risk pushing and spoiling the mood .

“All right: what kind of music are you into ?” “Well, I like—“ He cocks his head suddenly. “Actually, y’know....” He digs in his pocket and fishes out a brazen red iPod. “Do you have one of these ?” I nod and hold up my purse. “In here .” “Okay—let’s trade. Just till our next date. You listen to mine, I’ll listen to yours—no going through camera rolls, or anything personal .” “No camera, no problem.” I fork mine over. It’s the original video iPod, nothing on it but music . “Shit—haven’t seen one of these in years !” “I’ve been insanely careful with it.” I really have: this’ll be the first time it’s been out of my reach since...since I can’t even remember. There’ve been times when it’s been more or less my only comfort, my only escape. I don’t tell him that . “I’ll tell you one thing: I’m a big music lover. I’m... I have, like, a soundtrack for every era of my life— does that make any sense ?” “You mean, songs you were listening to back then, and when you hear them, it all comes rushing back

?” Nick nods. “Only, more than that. I swear, there were certain songs, certain times—I’d be holding onto them like lifelines; maybe you....” He shakes his head rapidly, like he’s trying to clear it. “Sorry. That probably sounded more intense than it should’ve .” “No, I....” I do know what he’s talking about. “Hell, by the Squirrel Nut Zippers—whenever I was freaking out about something, it used to start playing in my head. And it was so cheery, so silly, I’d start to calm down in spite of myself. It got to be part of my chilling out routine, like before a job interview, or if I had to do something I didn’t want to .” “That Eminem song with the falling rain in the background, for me—the one he did with Dido. It was just the one line, though, about it not being so bad—don’t think I ever learned the rest of the lyrics .” “Oh, yeah, I know that one: years go by; something-something...get out of bed.... ” I realize that’s all I know. “Guess I never learned the rest either .” He nudges my foot with his. “Pretty sure there’s no

line in that song, or any song ever written, that goes like that .” “It is calming, though. Just that part. Not the whole Eminem part, with the murdered girlfriend .” “Yeah, I pretend that part doesn’t exist .” I take my time polishing off the last of my fries. The last of the sunset’s faded from the sky, and I’m cutting it fine with the babysitter. I said I’d be home by seven. The dashboard clock’s flashing six fortyfive . I can’t put it off any longer. One more sip of Coke —mostly water, by now—and it’s time to go. It shouldn’t be this hard to tear myself away. Obviously we’re going to see each other again: we’ve got each other’s iPods. But I can’t shake the feeling there’s a timer somewhere, ticking down the seconds on our romance . I barely register Nick’s lingering kiss goodbye: I’m off in my own little world, wondering if we’ll ever have the technology to save a memory like a file on a computer, play it over and over and over again. Put it on repeat and live in it . My walk home is short, but by the time I’m paying Maria and getting Joey ready for his bath, the full

weight of my worries is back on my shoulders .

Chapter Thirteen N ick I seem to remember a time when I looked forward to Mondays—back when work was about numbers and code and problem-solving, full of challenge and excitement. I felt like I was getting in on the ground floor of something. Creating systems that had potential far beyond the movement of money. I thought I saw a future where variants on the infrastructure I’d built could increase efficiency and reduce waste in everything from the farming industry to public transit . Instead, I’m barely involved with the math that drew me to high-frequency trading in the first place. I’ve heard of people getting promoted beyond their competency, but when I decided it was time to open my own investment management firm, I think I...promoted myself beyond my interest . This board meeting, for instance, became a bored meeting an hour and a half ago. Ten minutes after it started .

I have enough money now. Too much money. More than I could spend in several lifetimes. I could walk away. Get some of those old dreams out of mothballs. It wouldn’t be abandoning Mark: I can’t believe this was what he wanted. Not in the way — My phone vibrates. I raise my hand for silence and pick it up. “Go ahead .” It’s Harold, my secretary. “Mr. Carter, you have a call from Rich, on line one. Shall I put it through ?” I look around. It’s not a secret that I’ve been devoting more time to charitable activities lately. The board even agrees it looks good. But it still feels crass to take a call from my other job right in their faces. “Tell him to hold. I’ll take it in my office .” I’m all too happy to make my excuses and duck out for a few minutes. But my relief is short-lived . “Yeah, look—sorry to bother you at work, especially with something like this, but...aw, man.” Rich sounds genuinely uncomfortable . “What’s the matter ?” “It’s—I hate to even bring this up, but, uh... Those little girls, they painted something in the window

yesterday at the downtown location, and...someone’s painted something...else...over it .” I feel a headache settle between my eyes. “Could you—are you near the window now ?” “Yup. Looking right at it .” “Could you text me a picture ?” “On it, boss.” Rich hangs up. A few seconds later, a shot of the display window pops up. Katie and Cindy filled it with a fountain of smiley faces in neon colors, with “HAPPY HOLIDAYS!” underneath. Only now, each face sports a bright red, dripping bullet wound, smack in the middle of the forehead. And there’s something else scrawled over “HAPPY HOLIDAYS!”. It takes me a minute to decipher it, but when I do — “Oh, come on ! ” —GET A JOB. It says GET A JOB . I dial Rich back. “I take it you’ve tried to wash it off ?” “Yup. Think they’ve used some kind of enamel, like nail polish, or... I don’t know. Soap and water won’t touch it. Matt’s gone for some acetone .”

“Okay, just—just, I don’t know. Try the acetone thing. If that doesn’t work, get some paint. White it out. Ugh!” I feel anger in my gut, coiling tighter and tighter. “I mean, ‘Get a job?’ ‘Get a job?’ Because everyone’s hiring people who’ve been retired fifteen years!—not to mention — “ “Hey, hey! Take a breath !” “Sorry, Rich. Preaching to the choir. I know .” “You coming in later ?” “Yeah.” “We’ll have it good as new by the time you get here. Promise.” Normally, his deep, soothing voice would be like a pat on the back, but I’m seething. About to boil over . “Put something over it till Matt gets back. People coming in don’t need to see that shit .” “Sure thing. I’ll let you know how it goes .” “Thanks, Rich .” I disconnect the call, and instantly swipe over to Twitter. Katie’s last tweet’s a cat gif, timestamped ten minutes ago. So she doesn’t know. But it could

easily have gone the other way: she goes right past there on her way to school. She’s too young to find out what it feels like to do something nice and get slapped in the face for it . I can’t go back to the meeting like this. My frustration’s on the verge of boiling all over the place. Nobody needs to deal with that . Lina’s iPod’s still in my coat pocket, from last night, promising distraction. If she’s into techno, or —or anything 80s—heaven help us all. I think I might explode if I hit play and Tom’s Diner or Heaven is a Place on Earth comes blasting out . I plug in my earbuds, take a deep breath, and press play . The rushing static of an old recording fills my ears. It reminds me a little of the soft rainfall in the track we were talking about last night. I didn’t tell her, couldn’t tell her, how I clung to that sound when Mark’s death was still fresh. When I never knew whether I was hovering on the precipice of a panic attack or a temper tantrum—when I needed something, anything to moor me to reality . A woman’s voice joins the static, sweet and hesitant, almost breathless. She’s singing in some language that isn’t English, and doesn’t sound like

Russian either. Maybe French or Italian. There’s a wounded, despairing note to her song that only intensifies as a second voice joins, and then a third. I find myself straining to make out the words, though this isn’t a language I understand . I’m not sure this track’s actually doing much for my mood. If anything, it’s stirring my anger. It sounds almost like the three voices are arguing. Upbraiding each other. The original voice rises above the others, full of indignation . My thumb hovers above the skip button, but I don’t press it. I don’t hate what I’m hearing, just... I might not be quite in the right frame of mind for it . I check the video display. It identifies the song as Bellini – Norma – act I – Oh, di qual sei tu vittima ! Opera, then—that’s unexpected. I wonder if she’s ever actually been to one. I could give her that. I’ve always kind of wanted to go, myself—seems like everyone I know has season tickets. I’d have jumped on that bandwagon, if not for fear of coming off like a total rube. Like if I bumped into someone I knew at intermission, and they were all Oh, how divine; she’s so ... Uh—I don’t even know what you’d praise an opera singer for, what qualities might be considered impressive. So I’d be

nodding along like, yep, yep, uh-huh, pretty groovy, and Cindy Rajania’s mother would be there to roll her eyes and call me nouveau riche, and my social stock would plummet. Further . But if I had someone to go with, someone who was into it, someone who wouldn’t judge my ignorance .... Unbelievable: I’m actually smiling. I didn’t expect Lina’s iPod to do much for my mood, but... Her choice of music was just surprising enough to jolt my train of thought onto another track . The song ends, and I navigate to her playlists. She’s got quite the variety: a lot more opera, hits from the 60s and 70s, couple of movie soundtracks, a mercifully small folder dedicated to the dreaded 80s—even a selection of novelty rock. Apparently, she’s too sexy for her shirt... Which I guess makes sense, as The Streak ’s in there too. I count tracks in at least six languages, and make a mental note to find out how many of those she speaks. I figured she was smart—she comes off as sharp, sensitive— but maybe I’ve been underestimating her . I shoot her a text before I head back to my meeting: your iPod just unfucked my morning. <3 hope your monday’s going better than mine !

I don’t feel the vibration of her reply till much, much later, standing in my kitchen, staring into the fridge. There’s an antipasto platter from the deli there, taking up most of the top shelf, and not much else. Not much that can be eaten on its own, anyway. I don’t have the energy to tackle a couple of raw chicken breasts and a pile of veggies. Katie’s eating at a friend’s, so nothing’s been ordered in . When’d I start depending on my nine-year-old for dinner ? I’m picking halfheartedly at the deli platter, trying to decide whether to fill up on stuffed mushrooms and capicollo or call for Chinese, when my phone goes off . Hey! Just got home! Glad to hear my iPod unfucked your morning; sorry to hear it was fucked! What happened ? Where to start? It’s too much, too complicated—I text back work, and leave it at that . Totally feel your pain . Endless shift here . Been dying to slip out of my shoes all day .

A wicked idea flashes across my mind. Slipping out of things, eh? I could pull that thread, see where it goes.... She did say she liked me taking charge. And it’s not like I’m sending a dick pic. My thumbs fly . do it . take them off . you know you want to . I think about pushing it even further, but she beats me to the punch. Mmm...feels amazing. Better than ... ;-) Oh, really? Sounds like a challenge. With the mental image of her blissful face for inspiration, I press on: anything else pinching or chafing? constricting your breathing, maybe ? I can see her typing and deleting, typing and deleting. Was that too much ? Are you sexting me ? Oops! Guess she’s not so much into it . Because I...might not exactly mind. If you were . And yes. There may be ONE garment more rapturous to take off than a tight pair of shoes .

It’s a little exciting, how shy she is, how she dances around what she wants to say. I wonder if I can get her to type something truly filthy, cast her inhibitions to the wind . take that off too, I tell her . imagine me standing behind you. taking it off for you . close enough you could feel my breath on the back of your neck . lips working their way down your spine . hands massaging the red marks out of your skin, where the straps dug in all day . Lina takes her time responding again. It only serves to stoke the fires of my anticipation. I picture her reading my texts, flushed and eager, breathing hard. Nervous, maybe, but excited; I think — You’d keep me so warm. Wouldn’t notice the chill with your arms around me .... Press your body to mine. Skin to skin . “Oh, very romantic....” But I think she could be bolder. Tell me what you want me to do. Where you

want me to touch you . You are a cruel master . ;-) Now, that gives me a shiver. More than a shiver. My cock’s straining almost uncomfortably against my pants. I palm it idly, luxuriating in the delicious friction of fabric on flesh . I’d guide your hands to where I wanted them to go . One in my hair, pulling my head back against your shoulder . Exposing my neck, for you to kiss and lick and nibble . The other ... ... ...on my thigh. Moving upward . I could be merciful. I could take it from here. But the way my cock swells when she hesitates over where she wants that second hand...I’m dying to hear her say a dirty word. The sound of that sweet, low voice murmuring cunt or fuck —I think I could shoot just from that. I goad her on: oh, yeah? how

far upward ? Mmm...just an inch...then another...and another ... ..till you end up .... Come on—almost there! Where ? I unzip my pants and grip my cock. I can’t remember ever being so hot from mere anticipation. your cruel master demands it, I add, when almost a minute’s ticked by. tell me where . Well, when you put it like that .... I want you to finger my slit . Just the outside . Tease me with the lightest of touches. Trace every contour of my inner lips . Do it till I’m begging you to touch me where I need it the most . I have to grip my cock at the base and hunch forward to keep this from ending too soon. The thought of Lina completely undone, begging for my touch.... Let me hear you beg . Please, cruel master, touch my clit .

Oh, God . A wicked idea occurs to me . Could I, though ? I’m trembling with something between arousal and the thrill of danger. Takes me a few attempts to formulate a legible reply: no. let me HEAR you . I tip my head back against the back of the couch, breathing hard, keeping the strokes of my right hand slow and lazy. Don’t want to come before...before .... I almost jump when my phone actually rings. Didn’t think she’d really do it. I pick up and hold it to my ear without a word. Not sure my voice can be trusted to be firm and commanding as I’d want it to be, right now . For a long moment, there’s silence, and then a single word, whispered in my ear: “ Please ....” Waves of intense pleasure surge through me, one after another, taking me right to the edge, but not over. “Say it again,” I growl, relieved when it comes out a low rumble, not the broken plea I was dreading .

She does, and I’m pleased to hear her breathing’s as shallow and ragged as mine . “Want to make you scream with just the tips of my fingers,” I say. Feels like I’ve pushed her about as far as I can... Time to do my part. “Wouldn’t even fuck you, just—“ The words catch in my throat, as I swear I hear a muffled whimper on her end. “— just worship every contour of your naked body with my mouth, while my fingers dance around your clit. And I wouldn’t stop...wouldn’t stop at your first orgasm. I’d—“ Shit; too close. Can’t concentrate. Hang tight a little longer; don’t.... “I’d keep going till you were...till you were writhing in my arms, forgetting every word except my name — “ “Nick....” And that’s it—one breathy whisper, and I’m catapulting over the top, barely holding back a harsh shout. I’m positive she can hear me anyway: I’m panting like a dog, choking on strangled groans . A quiet few moments tick by. The silence is just starting to get uncomfortable when she breaks it, bless her. “So... What’s the usual post-phone-sex etiquette? I mean, do you hang up, or... Or is phone pillow talk a thing ?”

Even my laugh comes out shaky. “Still catching my breath .” “Me too .” “I’m glad you didn’t just hang up, though. That would’ve been—I don’t know. Too...buck-ninetynine a minute, cum and go ?” “Oh? You don’t like cheap and dirty ?” I have to think about that for a moment. “Only during. Not after. I like...something rough and hard and spontaneous, but then...cuddling? Maybe give you a bath, brush your hair...take care of you somehow .” “Sounds wonderful.” I can hear her doing something on the other end of the line, rustling around. “I’d probably fall asleep if you started brushing my hair, though. Not that I’d mind drifting off in your arms, but it might be a bit boring for you .” On the contrary. “Actually, I love the idea of you trusting me enough to doze off like that .” “Maybe I’m just tired....” I hear the tapping of a spoon on the other end, running water, the sound of a switch clicking on. Coffee—she’s making coffee .

“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I ?” “No.” I hear a soft flump, like she’s plopped down on the couch or her bed. “I’ve got...kind of a DIY project I’m working on, but I’m not exactly in a rush to get back outside .” “What kind of project?” Maybe I can help: I’m pretty good with repairs . She laughs. “It’s silly...found my old bike in the back of my mama’s garage. I’m restoring it to its former glory. Or close enough.” I hear the faint bubbling of a kettle in the background. Maybe it’s tea she’s making. Tea, or—horror of horrors— instant coffee. “I’m mostly done. Just need to fix the brakes. It’s got those backpedal ones. Hate those .” “What kind of bike is it ?” “Your basic Schwinn three-speed, cherry red. Took me forever to find the exact shade of paint .” Sounds like a kid’s bike. Wonder if she’s fixing it up for a little boy or girl—that would explain why she doesn’t stay out late. I could ask her, but... Probably best to let her tell me in her own time. I’ve pushed enough these last few days. “Always wanted one of those,” I say, instead .

“Don’t tell me you never had a bike, growing up ?” “Never had one till college .” “Feels like I spent my entire childhood on mine.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “Didn’t even care it was a boy’s bike—it was my cousin Yuri’s, before mine .” “I had a skateboard for a while. But I—“ I don’t want to tell her how I saved for it for months, pocketing my lunch money, picking up change off the street, only to lose it somewhere between foster homes. “But I... Y’know, I’m not sure what happened to that.” It’s not exactly a lie . We debate the relative merits of boards and bikes for a while. Just when rollerskates edge their way into the conversation, I hear her kettle start to whistle. Moments later, there’s the trickle of water being poured . “So, I have to know—coffee or tea ?” “What?” “I heard your kettle. So, you a coffee person or a tea person ?” She chuckles. “Both. But right now it’s coffee.

Thin, bitter Folger’s instant .” “Sacrilege.” “I know. But I can’t go to sleep.” Lina stirs her coffee. I can hear the spoon clinking on her mug. “Got the bike to deal with, and then I’ve got ironing piled to the ceiling. Sort of been putting it off .” “And here I am wasting your time, pulling mine off .” A snort, from her end. “Oh, I wouldn’t call that time ill-spent. You were very...stern .” “You liked that ?” “You have to ask ?” Guess I don’t . I hear a distant ding: my private elevator. Got to be Katie. My face goes hot—I’m smack bang in the middle of the living room couch, fly wide open, probably smelling of sex. Not appropriate. “So, I... I’d better let you get to that coffee while it’s hot.” I’m still doing up my pants, peering into the kitchen cabinet—where the fuck’s the Febreze ?

“Yeah. If I don’t get going soon, I’m never going to get through all this. Thanks for the... Thanks for tonight, though.” Her voice drops almost to a whisper—I can practically see the bashful way she dips her head. “I enjoyed it .” I finally locate the Febreze, hiding behind a stack of Swiffer pads. We say our goodbyes while I spray the kitchen and living room. I don’t stop till the place looks like a misty morning and smells like a car freshener . Turns out I needn’t have bothered. Katie shows up with a bag of Thai food, fragrant enough to obscure anything less savory. “Knew you’d forget to eat,” she says, thrusting it into my arms. I think about protesting that I had a sandwich from the deli, but that was hours ago, and I can’t deny I’m starving . I need to get someone in to cook, or learn to do it myself. Teaching my kid to live on takeout seems like a failure in parenting . If I did walk away from the firm, I’d have more time for that sort of thing . Something to think about ....

Chapter Fourteen E lina Nick’s got his music organized by mood—and very specifically, at that. Got to laugh at some of his playlist titles: thrash metal for getting out of bed; creepy dungeon shit; warm-blanket nostalgia; goddammit tension; fuck it all. It’s kind of jarring when Whiskey in the Jar blares on right after Memories of You, on the nostalgia list, but it makes a weird kind of sense. They are basically two different takes on regret . I went in planning to listen according to how my day happened to be going, but it soon became clear I’d be yo-yoing between goddammit tension and need to sleep forever, if I did that. So I’m listening to how I wish I was feeling, which right now would be .... I scroll through the menu . Which right now would be...anticipation. I can’t help but smile as Buddy Holly comes on, singing Everyday. A little on the nose, but... Can’t say it doesn’t fit .

In truth, I’m a little nervous. Nick told me to meet him here, but... If the hostess hadn’t directed me straight to a table, when I said I was meeting Nick Carter, I’d have sworn I had the wrong address. This place is to McDonald’s as the Hope Diamond is to a rhinestone. Hope he subscribes to the “whoever asks, pays” rule, because I don’t think I can afford a breadstick in this place, let alone an entire dinner . I must stick out like a sore thumb. A quick survey of the dining room tells me no one’s looking my way, but I still feel ridiculously underdressed in my cable knit sweater and plain black skirt. If I’d known we were coming to a place like this, I’d at least have dug out that one Nicole Miller I hung onto from my previous life . I sip at my water. Dancing Queen fades in over Everyday. I can’t help but smile. I would so not have pegged him for an ABBA fan. But it’s setting the right mood. I feel a swell of excitement starting to overtake my nerves. Nick’s a good guy. Joe might’ve brought me to a place like this to humiliate me, to make me feel dowdy, out of my element—but Nick doesn’t seem the type. Maybe he doesn’t even know it’s this fancy. All his text said was that he’d been wanting to try it for a while .

It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking when he walks in: he’s dressed pretty much the same as always— shirt and tie, jacket, all slightly rumpled. He spots me, and his face lights up. I feel my anxiety draining away . Moments later, he’s plopping down across from me. “Sorry I’m late. Lost a cufflink.” He holds up his arm. One of his cuffs is, indeed, hanging open . “You’re a disaster .” “Oh? I think I’m pretty adorable. Y’know, in a badboy kind of way .” “More like an absent-minded boy.” I tug his sleeve down over his cuff. “Where’d you lose it, anyway ?” “In my back seat. Thought I had a spare pair of shoes back there, but...maybe not .” I’ve seen the state of his back seat. He’s never getting that cufflink back. Still, I definitely feel better about my own downmarket outfit . He leans in conspiratorially when the menus come out. “I’d never be so gauche as to order for you, but might I make a recommendation ?”

“Sure.” “Don’t start with a salad. I have it on good authority the salads are the most boring thing here .” It’s too cold for salad, anyway. I’ve been craving soup since I sat down. But the only soup on the menu’s some kind of pheasant and thyme concoction for twenty-three dollars a cup. The only cheaper option’s the eighteen-buck house salad. I peek over the top of my menu, and catch Nick fixing me with an unexpectedly intense stare . He shifts in his seat. “Listen, I didn’t just bring you here to eat. That is, we are going to eat, but first, I was hoping to boot another elephant out of the room .” Shit. What now? Maybe he knows about Joey, somehow. So help me, if he’s referring to my son as an elephant in the room, he’s getting such a kick under the table. “And what elephant would that be ?” “Money.” Oh. That elephant. “I’m sure you’re aware I don’t have any .”

“And I’m sure you’re just as aware I do .” I open my mouth to say something. He holds up his hand: not yet . “Truth is, I’ve amassed enough wealth that I’ll never have to think about it again. Money hasn’t meant much to me since I realized there was nothing left that I needed. But I’m not arrogant or oblivious enough to think it doesn’t mean anything to anyone else, doesn’t make things awkward.” He takes a deep breath. “And if you’re uncomfortable with this kind of place, we don’t have to do it again. I mean that. We can make every date a dayat-the-park followed by fast food sort of affair. I’d be content with that. But....” He smiles—somewhat hesitantly, to my eye. “There were a few things I was hoping we could do together. Things that are better with company .” I can’t help but be intrigued. The whole “help me spend my money; you’ll be doing me a favor” line is eyeroll-worthy, but I don’t think that’s where he’s going. “What did you have in mind ?” “Well, next week—I know your carriage usually turns back to a pumpkin around seven o’clock, but if you could stay out late one night....” He slides a printout across the table. It’s a Metropolitan Opera schedule. I feel my heart leap. It’s been forever

since I’ve seen a live performance, and never at the Met . “Given you’ve spent the better part of a week with my iPod, you know I’d have a hard time saying no to this .” “So say yes. They’re doing Les Troyens on Monday. I hear good things .” I bite back a laugh. “That one runs about five hours. Not sure my carriage can stay un-pumpkined that late.” Even if I could get Maria to stay into the wee hours, I’ve got a morning shift Tuesday. I scan the performance dates. “How about Wednesday, Lucia di Lammermoor ? ” “Can I make a confession ?” “Go for it .” “Pick whichever one you like—I wouldn’t know the difference. This’ll be my first time .” “Seriously? I thought all you rich guys had subscriptions—isn’t it part of the lifestyle ?” He looks mildly embarrassed at that. “Well, uh... You’re not wrong—a lot of people do; a lot of them go to be seen. But that’s sort of...exactly why I’ve

never been .” “How so ?” “I have this vision of running into someone I know, and they’d look at me like ‘aw, how quaint—look who’s here!’ And they’d ask what I thought, only they wouldn’t really be asking my opinion. They’d be laying some kind of trap, like... Like ‘Wasn’t soand-so’s performance divine?’ —only they’d be talking about the worst singer, like...the Nicholas Cage of opera singers... And it’d be more grist for the ‘Nick Carter’s such a bumpkin’ mill .” I can’t keep from laughing at that. “The Nicholas Cage of opera singers?” I press my lips together, and somehow get my giggles under control. “Sorry —I’m not laughing at you .” He shakes his head. “In case it’s not painfully obvious, I wasn’t exactly born into the whole...opera and Hamptons and champagne brunch world. There’s a few things I’ve wanted to try, but it’d be more fun with someone who won’t disavow me if I don’t know which fork goes with which course, or...or how to address the Duke of Cumberland .” “There is no Duke of Cumberland, so you’re safe with him. And on the cutlery front, you work from

the outside in.” I wink. “Griboyedov Café’s my stepfather’s restaurant. Anything you need to know about table settings, I’ve got you .” “So the guy who yelled at me on the phone that time—that was your stepdad ?” “Yep. Probably.” I think about it for a moment. “Definitely. He’d have thought you were Joe. He was calling back-to-back enough to block out legit reservations, for a while .” “Shit.” I’m spared the awkwardness of that can of worms bursting back open by the arrival of the waiter. I go for the soup; Nick gets some kind of squash-andtruffle ravioli . Fortunately, Nick doesn’t seem interested in bringing my past to the table. “So,” he says, “you wouldn’t mind me treating you to something slightly extravagant once in a while ?” “As long as it’s something for both our entertainment, not....” I bite my lip. There’s no polite way to talk about money. “Just don’t...don’t....” And now, I’m completely tonguetied. There’s no way to say don’t make me feel indebted without sounding like I think he wants to

buy me . “Not without asking ?” I nod . “So, that’d be a no to a dress for the opera ...?” That gets me laughing again. “Actually, I’ve already got one.” I let my foot barely brush his under the table. “One I can’t wait for you to see me in .” His answering shiver is quite, quite gratifying. “Describe it .” I drop my voice to the low half-whisper he seemed to enjoy so much on the phone. “Black and gold. Floor-length. Clingy. Tiny stars cascading from bodice to hem, sparkling when I move .” “Think I’ll be able to restrain myself long enough to sit through the opera ?” I make a show of looking him up and down. He’s slightly flushed, and that intent, predatory look’s back in his eye, the same one that had me dropping my pants the first night we met. Instead of answering him directly, I let a slow smile spread over my lips. “You know, I forgot to mention, it’s so

form-fitting I can’t wear a thing underneath .” “Oh, who’s cruel now ?” I lean back in my chair and tip him a wink. The waiter’s heading our way—I should let him compose himself. But teasing’s far more fun. I turn my head to the side and trail my fingertips down the line of my throat, to a point just below my collarbone. Nick’s sharp intake of breath sends a thrill singing through me . “I’m so going to — “ And...perfect timing. The waiter sets Nick’s plate down with a gentle ahem. Nick turns red as a brick. I flash my most innocent smile . The instant the waiter clears off, Nick leans forward. “If it weren’t so crowded, I’d take you to the ladies’ room and spank you over the sink .” Something compels me to egg him on. I stir my soup, affecting indifference. “Would you, now ?” “I’d hold your head up with my free hand, so you’d have to look my reflection in the eye, the whole time .” It’s my turn to shiver. Can’t quite hide the way my

spoon rattles on the porcelain. “The whole time.... And how long—how many spanks would that be ?” “Ten. And you’d count them out loud.” His eyes narrow. “And we’d walk out together, with my hand on your ass. You’d have to eat the rest of your dinner knowing everyone was looking this way, speculating on what we just did .” “I’d want to be much better dressed for that .” “You’d be worse dressed.” His grin turns wolfish. “And less dressed. I’d rip your skirt, and put your panties in my pocket .” “And then you’d forget you had them, and whoever does your laundry would sit in silent judgment. And your butler would hand them to you, all fluffed and folded, like—” I stick my nose in the air, and assume a nasal British accent. “’— Your knickers, sir .’” He chuckles. “I don’t have a butler, but... Yeah. You’ve got me there .” The conversation drifts to other things after that, but he keeps looking at me, in a way that’s very distracting. I barely notice what I’m eating—even the thoroughly decadent chocolate dessert hardly registers. Especially when he squeezes my hand

tenderly and tells me my behavior hasn’t been excused: my punishment’s only delayed. Does he really mean to spank me? Surely not in a public place. That would be .... I flash back to the way he pinned me against the door, that night at the hotel. For a moment, I was sure he’d tear my clothes off right there. He seemed almost intoxicated, drunk on the risk of getting caught. I hadn’t thought about it before, but I think... I think I might’ve let him, if he’d tried something in the hallway. I wouldn’t have let it go too far, but a bit of hanky-panky.... Maybe ? When we kiss goodnight, he gives me a warning bite, just hard enough to startle. Maybe it’s only my imagination, but I feel it all the way home, a delicate throb in my lower lip . Of course, some shocks are more pleasant than others. I’d take a nipping kiss any day over the scene that greets me at home. I can hear Joey wailing and drumming his feet all the way from the stairwell. When I walk in, he’s in full-on throwdown mode, bright red and snotty, shrieking his little heart out. I scoop him up quick: the downstairs neighbors will be banging their broom on the ceiling any second . “What happened ?”

Maria’s hovering helplessly. “I don’t know, Lina! He asked if he could get some milk. I said yeah, and two seconds later, he starts screaming !” “Aw, he must be tired.” I rock Joey in my arms. “You spill some milk on yourself ?” He shakes his head . “What’s the matter? Was it sour ?” “It’s blood milk! ”, he howls . Blood...oh. Oh. I look over at the counter: sure enough, there’s a half-poured glass of strawberry milk sitting out. Poor kid’s terrified of the stuff. Thinks the pink color comes from... Yeah. Nothing I say’s ever been able to convince him different. I know one of his friends is to blame, but I’ve never been able to narrow down which one . What the hell’s strawberry milk even doing here? Must’ve picked it up by accident—stupid. How could I miss the pink carton? “Mommy’s so sorry. So sorry, so sorry.” I rub his back in soothing circles that soon start to work their magic. “How about some hot chocolate instead ?” Joey hiccups. “With marshmallows ?”

“Ah....” Good thing Maria’s still here. I beckon her over. “Could you run to the 7-11, see if they’ve got marshmallows? There should be a five in my pocket .” “Yeah, right away. I didn’t know it was strawberry, or I wouldn’t have let him—I know he hates that kind .” “Not your fault.” Mine. I’m fucking up way too much lately. If I hadn’t stayed out for dinner, I’d have been home two hours ago. I’d have been the one to open the carton, and everything would’ve been fine . Maybe he’s still too young for me to have a social life . Or maybe... Maybe it’s time I let Nick in on his existence. Dinner would’ve been a lot less sexy with a kid running around, but at least I’d have been home for it. And what am I even hiding? He’s a child, not a scarlet letter. If Nick isn’t a kid person, well, it’ll be disappointing, but better find out sooner than later . After the opera, then. He’ll be in a good mood, and I can make a quick escape if it doesn’t go well. Either way, the room will finally be elephant-free .

Chapter Fifteen N ick “So, what’s it about, anyway?” I ask, just to have something to say. I feel wildly out of place. Lina’s luminous, in a dress that’s about a thousand times more distracting than I’d pictured, all layers of sheer silk and sparkles that ripple over her curves. She said something earlier about wishing we were going to The Magic Flute, so everyone would think she was dressed as the Queen of the Night, not wearing last decade’s couture. If the style’s dated, I can’t tell. She looks radiant . And... She’s looking at me funny . “Hm?” She gives me a searching look. “Did you hear a word I just said ?” “I, uh...might’ve spaced out, just a bit .” She shrugs in a way that draws my eye to her bare shoulders and the gentle swell of her breasts. Not helping. “I said it’s about the same things every opera’s about: sex and death .”

“Oh, spoiler alert !” “Hey, you asked! Besides, can you actually call spoiler alert on something nearly two hundred years old ?” “Just did .” “Fair enough.” She seems a little distracted, herself, taking in the surroundings, the crowd. Suddenly, she leans in close enough that I can pick up the scent of her freshly-washed hair. “Don’t look now, but do you know an Amazon warrior-looking woman, about five foot eleven, with hair so blonde it’s almost white and jet black eyebrows ?” Aw, come on! Kennedy Rajania, Mrs. Nouveau Riche herself? “I think so, yeah—dressed in black, white, or beige, dripping with diamonds?” I scan the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her reflection. No such luck . “That’d be her. Who is she ?” “She’s my, ah...a friend of the family. Not a fan of mine .” “Thought she might be an ex, the way she’s burning a hole in your back .”

I can’t quite hold back a shudder. I’ve got to tell Lina about Katie soon—there’s no way to properly explain Kennedy Rajania, without including her reign of terror over the PTA. I still have nightmares of her towering over me in her sky-high stilettos, all New business opens at the end, Mr. Carter . Way more horrifying than it sounds. It’s the dripping contempt that gets you, not the words themselves. “She’s sort of unavoidable,” I say. “We sit on a committee together. Our interests tend not to align .” “Let’s sweep right past her and pretend not to notice she’s there .” “Really?” Got to admit I like that idea . “Sure. We should find our seats anyway .” I feel a little lightheaded, in a good way, as I link arms with Lina and walk her past Kennedy Rajania’s court of admirers, close enough that her skirt almost brushes Kennedy’s shoe. Lina leans against me and laughs like I’ve just said something so funny she can barely keep her feet. It’s a spiteful little triumph, and I’m sure I’ll pay for it at the next PTA meeting, but it feels good . Another thing that feels nice is the way Lina brushes against me. Soft and yielding. Makes me

wonder how much privacy there is in an opera box . Turns out, not much, which is probably just as well —Lina looks genuinely excited to be here, leaning out to peer at the stage and the orchestra. Wish I’d thought to get opera glasses. It hadn’t occurred to me they were still a thing: I always thought they were something people had in the 17- and 1800s, something quaint and half-forgotten, like bustles or snuffboxes. But, nope: the place is bristling with them . I lower my voice, to keep anyone in the adjoining boxes from hearing my dumb questions. “So, how do I know what’s going on? Do they sing it in English, or ...?” “No, here—“ Lina points me to a screen mounted in front of my seat. “It’ll prompt you to press the button at the start of each act. You can pick a language for the translation .” “Are you going to... Do you speak Italian ?” She shakes her head. “Not really—I mean, I understand enough to know what’s going on, but I’m not fluent or anything .” “I was meaning to ask you—you had songs in all

these different languages on your iPod. Which ones do you speak ?” “English, Russian, and French,” she says. “Bit of Hungarian, from my grandmother .” I’m about to ask her why French—that one seems out of place—when the lights go down. Most of the chatter dies with them. It’s quiet enough that I can hear someone fucking with a candy wrapper— really? Who does that?— and a scattering of dry coughs. The screen in front of me comes to life, just like Lina said. I press the red button, feeling vaguely like the President executing the nuclear option. But all that pops up is a language menu. I go for English . The opera seems sort of dorky at first—like an old movie, set more for stage than screen. There’s maybe ten guys standing by a pile of rocks—some kind of lynch mob, I guess—but they’re not doing much, beyond making threats. And discussing an annoying neighbor. Looks like some things never change . It gets better when the mob shuffles offstage. The leading lady’s definitely not opera’s answer to Nicholas Cage. Even I can tell her voice is good, and the music’s got a chilling quality to it. I keep forgetting to look at the translation, especially when

the main man joins the scene . Projected clouds scud across an enormous moon, while the leads sing a duet I can only describe as haunting. Couldn’t make sense of the cascading notes of the soprano’s solo, but the simple refrain of the duet’s going to stick with me for weeks. By the time they’re singing their goodbyes, I’m hanging on every note. I’m actually disappointed when the curtain goes down on Act I . Lina sighs and stretches when the lights come up. I offer my hand to help her up. Her skirt’s ridden up a little, and I can’t help but notice she’s wearing the same sensible black shoes as the other day. Maybe they’re her only pair . She smiles. “So? What’s the verdict ?” “Mm?” “You a fan ?” “Oh—oh, yeah. Think so. The beginning was a bit... Ever hear of ‘show, don’t tell?’. But the love duet, that was so ....” “Eerie?” “Yeah. When you said it’s about sex and death...

Those two die, right ?” “Oh, now you want spoilers?” She looks over her shoulder at me. The low lights gleam in her red hair. “Yes. They die .” “If he wanted that to be a surprise...yeah. Probably should’ve done something different with that theme, that—y’know, the line about the wind and the sea carrying their sighs to each other?” I hum the theme as best I can. An opera singer I’m not. “It’s like music from beyond the grave .” “Oh, giusto cielo; par dalla tomba uscita . ” “What?” “It’s a line from later in the opera. Pretty much what you just said. Something from beyond the grave .” I can’t resist: I walk my cold fingers down the back of her neck. She jumps . “Oh, you suck ! ” I’m having a way better time than I thought I would. Lina seems to enjoy sharing her knowledge, and her excitement’s rubbing off on me. The staging’s a bit Tales from the Crypt, and the music

takes some getting used to—I feel like I’m seesawing between totally transfixed and a hundred percent lost—but the good parts are really good . I’m just starting to consider whether I might be able to convince Lina to stay out all night when the third act takes a seriously dark turn. Not just dark— dangerous. Straight for my real phobia, the one I couldn’t admit to—not silverfish, but — I’d figured the leading man would get whacked by his girlfriend’s brother, but... No. This is something else. This looks like — Oh, hell no . I can’t—I wasn’t expecting this . No way can I watch this unfold. Got to get out of here. I glance at Lina. An excuse—I need .... No. Too weird—it would look too weird. Especially if it’s not...not what I’m thinking . They wouldn’t. It’s an opera, not Breaking Bad . The singer steps into the spotlight, alone, knife in hand. I lower my eyes, and there it is on the translation screen, staring me in the face: I want to die .

“I—“ Lina looks my way, half-smiling . I can’t help it. I raise my head. Onstage, the singer turns the knife on himself, and — “No!” Shit—that was out loud . Everyone’s looking. It’s too dark to see their eyes, but I see their faces, an ocean of blurred white ovals, all turned in my direction. Lina’s hand’s on my arm. I need to get out of here, right now, this second . Onstage, the guy’s actually bleeding, gushing blood; it’s a massacre—no. No. Only red fabric, yards of red fabric . Blood. I surge to my feet, violently enough to rattle my seat. Now, they’re really looking, all of them, probably Kennedy Rajania—me, the star attraction at the Met! Who’d’ve thought ? “Nick?” I feel Lina tugging at my sleeve . “I’ve got to—I—“ My voice is barely a croak,

drowned out by the tragedy unfolding onstage. That’s making it worse, somehow, the thought of him still alive, still singing, while he — Mark survived too. At least fifteen minutes. Waiting for...waiting for — “Come on.” There’s another tug on my arm, more forceful this time, and my feet start to move. Yes. Yes—this is good. Leaving the scene. Away from the .... Don’t think about it . Right—that’s right. Got to come up with an excuse. A migraine, maybe. Food poisoning. Something .... “Sit.” Lina’s hand’s on my shoulder, pushing me to sit. My knees give out halfway down, and I flop gracelessly onto the stairs. A wave of gratitude washes over me when Lina sits beside me. Her arm slides around my waist. Everything’s cold; there’s clammy sweat down my back and between my thighs, a chill in my gut, but she’s warm . “Now breathe in slow, and hold it for five seconds .”

I try. I really do. I cough and pant . “No, again. C’mon—one...two...three....” She’s rubbing my back. Hope she can’t feel how bad I’m sweating, how gross I am right now. I gulp and gag . “Ugh...gonna puke ....” “No, you’re not. Breathe out slow. Let your limbs go loose .” If I do that, I’ll collapse in her lap. I’ll—I’ll.... I don’t even realize I’m following orders till I hear my breath hissing between my teeth . “Good. Now, in again .” My head’s swimming, and there’s an uncomfortable tingling under my skin, but I think I can hear individual heartbeats again, in the blood thundering through my ears. Or maybe that’s her pulse against my side . “You’re good. You’re good .” I’m good . “Just catch your breath, and we’ll get out of here. Get some fresh air .” Fresh air, yeah. Yeah. That sounds good too. At

least... At least I didn’t throw up in front of her. Not yet, anyway. My stomach’s still doing this oily ocean-waves thing. I swallow hard and feel a little better . The faint sound of applause reaches my ears. Not good—that means, soon .... “Come on .” Lina’s saving me again. She’s an angel. A saint. My legs turn to jelly as I try to stand. She staggers under my weight, but doesn’t let me fall. Going to owe her...owe her so big, so .... And then, the night air’s hitting me full force. I take great gulps of it, as shivers wrack my body. I’m not sure whether it’s cold or fading adrenaline, but I feel like I could rattle apart, right here in front of Lincoln Center . “You won’t let me, though, will you ?” “What?” Lina sounds a little scared. Fuck—I’m not making any sense. She must think I’ve gone nuts . “Sorry. Nothing. Just thinking out loud. Let’s... Let’s get out of the cold .” I let myself space out as she leads me through the

night. She seems to know where she’s going. I just need a minute, a minute to get hold of myself. The raw panic’s wearing off—I’m more...more dazed, now. Like someone clocked me on the head with the world’s biggest Nerf bat . And the calmer I get the more it’s sinking in: there’s not an excuse in the world that’s going to cover this one. I can be honest, or come off like a maniac . Might be a relief to tell someone...finally ....

Chapter Sixteen E lina It’s a panic attack. Nothing more. This is fine—I’ve never actually seen someone have one before, but it doesn’t seem so different from one of Joey’s tantrums. By that logic, all I need to do is get him away from whatever’s freaking him out—hey, already done!—show him I still love him, and put him down for a nap . Well, maybe not the nap part. But some physical affection might not be out of place. He seemed to respond to having his back rubbed . Good thing I remembered where we left the car. Nick just stands by the door, so I rummage through his pocket till I find his keys, and herd him into the back seat. Most of his junk’s still pushed to one side from when we fucked back here, so there’s plenty of space for me to gather him into my arms . He’s not trembling so bad any more. That’s got to be progress. He was vibrating like an electric toothbrush for a while. Now, it’s just the occasional shudder, shaking him from head to toe. I squeeze

him tight, like I can somehow hold him together with just the strength of my arms . After a while, he makes a shaky little noise—at first, I think he’s crying, but then he does it again, and I realize it’s a laugh. I push him away enough so I can look him in the face . “What’s so funny ?” “You were scratching me behind the ears like a dog .” I bite back a retort about him acting like a dog at a fireworks show—now’s not the time. I shrug and tell him he has soft hair, instead . “Mm. Not as soft as yours.” There’s something heavy about his voice, something sleepy. Oh, no you don’t . “C’mon—we can’t sleep in the car .” “I know....” He sits up partway, rubbing his eyes. I keep my hand on his back, not wanting to let him alone quite yet. “I, uh... Sorry about that, back there. I just ....” “It’s all right. I probably should’ve....” It occurs to me I’m not actually sure what got under his skin.

Looked it was the suicide on stage, but what if it’s crowds he doesn’t like, or the dark, or...or something I did ? He’s shaking his head, anyway. “You couldn’t have known .” “Should I?” I start stroking his back again, as I feel him tense up. “Know, I mean ?” Nick nods. “Nobody does. Not even—no one. I couldn’t....” He draws a deep, uneven breath. “I had a brother, a twin, Mark .” Oh, no . “All this....” He does a loose sweep of his arm, pointing at nothing in particular. “My whole life, it’s a plan we came up with in high school. It was— from MIT to Wall Street; from Wall Street to fantastic wealth. That’s really all there was to it. We were kids ....” “My dream in high school was to be this unstoppable hacker, and get recruited by the NSA,” I tell him. He seems embarrassed. Not sure it’ll help to know my dream was worse, but it’s all I can think of to say . He does that unsteady chuckle again. “Guess you

—guess you thought better of that one .” I nod. He can’t see me, hunched over the way he is, but I figure he can feel my head move . “We were really doing it, though. We’d got into MIT, and I thought... That was supposed to put him back together. He’d been different, for a while. Like he wasn’t really there. Didn’t talk, didn’t care about much—but I could still get him excited about the plan. Sometimes .” Nick stops to get his breathing under control. I find his hand and start massaging some warmth into it . “We went on this road trip, right before we were supposed to leave for college. He seemed almost like himself again. Like—like the way I remembered him, before our parents, uh....” He turns his head away from me. “There was a car wreck, when we were eight. We went into foster care right after. Mark always said he could barely remember anything from before... But I think he just didn’t want to. Didn’t want to think about better times, when there was no way to go back .” “I can understand that.” I don’t like to think about everything I’ve lost, either. Even tonight, slipping into my one leftover nice dress... It felt like donning the uniform of a job I’d loved, and got fired from .

“Anyway, the last day of our trip, he sent me out for Slurpees. They didn’t have any at the 7-11 by our motel, so I walked around for a while. Half an hour, maybe. When I came back, there were cops —they were—“ His head drops into his hands. The rest comes out muffled, but there’s no mistaking the words. “He’d got his hands on a gun, somehow. They were bringing him out. His face was covered, so I knew ....” “I’m so sorry .” “The Slurpees... I dropped them, and that was... They were the strawberry kind—red everywhere— it was...” Nick slumps against my shoulder. I stroke his hair some more. For a while, neither of us says anything . “I just...kept going, after that.” I can feel the rumble of his voice against my arm and chest. “It’s like I never came out of shock, that day, like I...like I kept going, in a dream, and that dream turned into my life .” “Do you like it? Your life ?” For a moment, I think I’ve offended him. He goes rigid again, and I feel him stop breathing. Finally, he lets out a long sigh. “Some of it. I’ve been doing a lot of charity work the last couple of years. The

food pantry where we met: I started that. It was the first—there’s six of them now. And I put together an after-school theater program for kids, y’know, in the foster system. I...kind of want to do like Bill Gates—hand over the reins of my empire to someone who wants it, put my time and attention into something good .” “Why don’t you ?” “I haven’t so far because... For the longest time, it never even occurred to me to abandon the plan. Felt like abandoning him .” “But now ?” “Now, I....” He’s playing with my fingers, tracing the shapes of my nails in the dark. “I got a nineyear-old kid her first volunteer gig the other day. Just doing window displays at the food pantries, but... You should’ve seen how proud she was. I saw that look on her face, and I wanted to give her dreams beyond having money. Wanted to leave her a rosier world than Mark and I could imagine .” Is he talking about his kid? The way he chokes up, the way he fidgets and looks away, he can’t be talking about some random nine-year-old . If he is... That’ll make the whole Joey conversation

much, much easier. In fact... “You should come home with me tonight. Stay over. You shouldn’t be alone .” His head jerks up, like I’ve thrown him for a loop. “Really?—you wouldn’t mind ?” “’Course not. Long as you don’t mind squishing into my single bed .” “I like a tight squeeze .” That seems like my cue to pull him as close as I can, so I do. I hold him steady till I can’t feel a hint of a tremor in his body, till his breathing’s gone slow and deep. “You okay to drive ?” “Yeah. Unless you want to .” I press his keys back into his hand. “Nope; no way. Can’t drive a stick. Actually, I’m not sure I remember how to drive at all. Don’t want to run us off the road .” He laughs at that, and it sounds healthier this time, his normal low rumble, instead of that weird, shattered thing . Of course, now it’s my turn to be nervous. This is kind of the point of no return. In about twenty

minutes, I’m going to have to tell him to hold on a second, while I collect my four-year-old from next door. Maybe this isn’t the right time to spring it on him, but I haven’t exactly left the option open. He’s going to see where I live. He’s going to see my kitchen-slash-living-room, with its cracked Formica surfaces and no furniture. He’s going to see the tablecloth hanging over the window, and the cushion pile we’ve been using as a couch. And he’s going to see Joey . And Joey’s going to see him. Probably not tonight —I doubt he’ll even wake up all the way, when I scoop him out of bed. But in the morning .... My stomach’s crawling with butterflies by the time we pull up on my street . “Here?” Nick gestures at a parking spot . “Yeah. But you’ll have to get up first thing, plug the meter .” He pulls neatly into the space. “Not a problem. My internal alarm’s pretty much set for six .” This is it, then. The moment of truth. I wait till we’re inside, so I can look him in the eye, and.... “I’ve just got to run next door, grab my...my son .”

“Oh, sure.” Nick looks around. “Do you want me to, like, hide in the bathroom or something, so he doesn’t get weirded out by the strange man in the kitchen ?” He doesn’t even seem surprised. That’s... That’s good, right? “No—he’s only four. He’s not going to wake up. I’ll just tuck him in; he’ll be fine .” “Okay. I’ll be here, looking non-scary, just in case.” Nick sits down on the cushion pile like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe he’s seen worse, growing up in foster care. Hell, for all I know, his place looks like something off Hoarders. His car certainly does . Just as I thought, Joey barely opens his eyes when I lift him out of bed. He mumbles a vague protest, but tucks his face into my neck all the same. Mrs. D hands me his blanket and tips me a wink, which I take to mean she approves of me getting back on the market. Had to tell her I had a date, even cough up a few details, before she let me sneak out the door dressed for the opera. She said it was so she’d know who to point the cops at, if I turned up missing... But whether a guy has “pecs you could bounce a quarter off” is not required information for a missing-persons report . I can’t resist checking out Nick’s expression on my

way to Joey’s bedroom. To my relief, he’s got a soft smile on his face, like he approves of what he’s seeing . We wind up in my room, whispering like kids at a sleepover . “I knew you had to be a mom,” he tells me. Even whispering, he sounds smug . “Oh, yeah? How’d you know that ?” “’Cause you’re so nice, and you give great hugs, but you can be strict when you want to be....” He presses a quick kiss to my temple. “And you like to get home early. I’m the same .” Wait—is he saying — ? “Mine’s nine. A little girl—Katie. I’ve had full custody four years now .” “I thought Joey was going to be a girl. Doctor said he was—I bought him all kinds of cute little dresses, then... Out he popped. In all his boyish glory .” “What’d you do with the dresses ?” “Oh, he wore ‘em anyway.” I try to shrug, and

can’t quite pull it off, enveloped as I am in Nick’s arms. “I mean, newborns grow out of everything so fast. A few questionable fashion choices weren’t going to kill him .” “Doesn’t it bother you, having him named after, well ...?” I’m so comfy, not even the mention of Joe can spoil it. “It was worse when his full name was Giuseppe Rodolfo Bentivoglio Jr., to be honest. Soon as I got away, I changed it to plain old Joe Petrov .” “Much better.” Nick sounds as sleepy as I feel. I find myself snuggling closer, drawing my toes under the covers for warmth. Pretty soon, I feel myself drifting. My head’s kind of hazy, swimming with something between thoughts and dreams. I should get up, take out my contacts, get ready for bed. And I will, in a minute, soon as I...soon as I’ve .... Five more minutes can’t hurt . I jerk awake to darkness. Must’ve dozed off, and... Either Nick killed the light, or the bulb burned out. There’s something black and hulking where my alarm ought to be. A cautious poke reveals it to be a stray pillow. I shove it aside: 1:37 AM. Couldn’t have been sleeping more than... When’d we get back? When’d we lie down? Half an hour, maybe ?

I’m debating whether to extricate myself from Nick’s heavy embrace or go back to sleep when I feel him softly, lazily kissing the shell of my ear. It’s a soft feeling, tender, thrilling. I’ve never brought anyone back here. The walls are thin as cardboard. We can’t go too far, can’t make a sound, but .... I grope for his hand in the dark. His palm’s warm and dry. Just a little hand-holding. Nothing scandalous here. Only — He flips my hand over. Pins it to the bed. His other arm curls around me like a brace, holding me firmly to his chest. His thighs fence me in on either side. Those legs feel strong enough to crush me between them, but he just holds me tight . I’m thoroughly enclosed by his body. Safe...warm; my own body thrills to it. I could almost drift back to sleep, if it weren’t for the traitorous current of excitement surging through my veins. I tilt my head till it’s resting on his shoulder. He lifts his hand to my throat, thumb and forefinger spanning my jaw, resting against my pulse. Can’t help but think of the size and power of that hand, cradling me so gently. My breath comes quick and shallow, though he’s not cutting it off in any way . “My prisoner,” he whispers .

I actually feel my pulse quicken. “What are you going to do ?” “Carry out your sentence.” He moves suddenly, sweeping me into his arms as he rises from the bed. I barely suppress the kind of yelp that would definitely give us away . “My sentence?” He can’t mean.... “Here? Now ?” Nick sets me lightly on my feet, face to the wall. My hands fly up for balance, and he captures them, forcing them to the wall above my head, palms flat. He kicks my legs apart, like a cop getting ready for a body search. I lean forward involuntarily, suddenly hyperaware of my body. My ass is perked up, on display, and if Nick hadn’t noticed my complete lack of a panty line before, there’s no way he’s missing it now. Not the way his hands are groping, squeezing, stroking every inch of my body, lingering over my hips and thighs, the swell of my buttocks . “You were so bad at that restaurant.” He punctuates the words so and bad with a pair of sharp little bites, one to my shoulder, one to my earlobe. I gasp. “Made me so hard I almost popped my fly.” He grinds his clothed erection against my ass. “Like you were sucking me off with your voice, right there at the table .”

“I could — “ “Sh!” The harsh hiss shuts me up more effectively than the hand he claps over my mouth. “Don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t make a sound .” His hand slides off my mouth, inch by inch. I feel him smear my lipstick with his thumb, slow and deliberate. I can picture it, the way it must be smeared across my cheek, like I’ve already been — Cool air tickles my skin, raising the hairs on the back of my neck, as he frees me from my dress. He takes his time, working the buttons free one by one. In the silence, every pop, every rustle, every sigh seems impossibly loud. I can even hear the faint, silvery tinkling of the tiny metallic stars on my skirt, as it slides off my hips and crumples to the floor . “Look at you,” breathes Nick . I tighten my lips against an involuntary whine . “If you could see yourself in the glow of the streetlights....” One finger finds its way between my legs, follows the line of my slit almost to the apex, without parting my lips. “Glistening for me already .”

I’m not embarrassed; not even remotely selfconscious. I’m too entranced with the sensations, the faint, icy draft on my back, Nick’s warm breath on my neck, his fingertip making me quiver . He doesn’t give me time to anticipate his next move, doesn’t give me an instant’s warning. One moment, his fingers are spreading me open, exploring my pink folds—just the way I told him, that night we tried sexting—the next, there’s a brief sensation of cold, a whoosh of fabric, and, smack! His hand comes down on my left cheek, fingertips leaving a faint smear of wetness in their wake . The sound’s not loud—it’s flat, and a little dull— but I hold my breath anyway. I’m—I can’t describe it. Every part of my body’s responding to what he’s done. My ears are burning; my mouth’s gone dry. My whole scalp’s tingling—a hot, prickling feeling. A light sweat breaks out on my forehead and upper lip. My toes curl; my nipples peak—even in my palms, I feel something akin to a low-powered electric shock. I’m not sure whether it’s the spank itself, the sound in the dead silence, the irrational fear of being caught, but there’s not an inch of my body that’s spared the shock. The light sting on my ass is almost an afterthought . When he leans in and whispers in my ear, the jolt of ticklish, shivering sensation that races down my

side is so intense I almost miss what he’s saying. “How many was that ?” Oh—oh. I was supposed to count . “One,” I whisper . “You like that ?” I can only nod . “So good. So quiet. Won’t make a peep, as I....” He drags his finger down my back, following my spine all the way to my tailbone. He spreads his palm over my ass, right where he spanked me, soothing the last of the stinging away with a firm caress . This time, when he lifts his hand, I know what’s coming. I still can’t help but jump and gasp. It’s different, this time: instead of the sharp shock of that first, unexpected blow, I feel a deep, warm thrumming under my skin—almost like painless pins and needles, all over my body. Again, the sting of the spank only registers later, as it’s cooling off . “Two.” His fingertips find my clit. Somehow, he knows just how I like it, soft brushes alternating with tight, firm circles, till my head’s swimming and I’m biting

my lip to keep quiet. That thrumming feeling’s everywhere—I’m not lightheaded, exactly, but I feel like I’m dreaming, floating . He spanks me again, twice in quick succession, leftright. A vivid mental image springs to mind: my ass red as an apple, Nick kneeling to cool it with his tongue.... Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m rubbing my thighs together, unconsciously seeking sensation. I jerk my legs back into position, and — “Three! Four !” Maybe he didn’t notice . “Mm...no self-control.” He runs two fingers up my inner thigh. I’m mortified to feel them slide against slick skin, right where my thighs kiss. Mortified...and a little exhilarated. There’s no disapproval in his voice; all I hear is lust to match my own . I feel like the need for silence is the only thing holding me back. I could almost let go, almost tip over the edge, just from the way he’s touching me, the feel of his breath on my skin, his cock throbbing hard against my ass when he leans in to glide his wet fingers across my mouth, down my chin. Filthy ....

I notice something else: he’s lost his shirt, at some point, and he’s pressed to my back, skin against skin—he really must’ve been hanging on my every word, that night. He’s doing everything I said, and everything he promised, all at once . I revel in his embrace. He takes his time exploring me from behind, cupping my breasts, working my nipples, stretching both hands till they almost span my waist. His skin’s hot on mine. I can feel the tendons standing out on his forearms, the gentle flex of his biceps as he fondles my every curve . I can’t help but moan when he pulls away at last— depriving me of that exquisite warmth feels nothing less than cruel. I throttle the sound back almost instantly, but it’s too late. His hand flies again, much harder this time; I feel his body pivot as he puts his weight into it. This time, it’s loud, and the shock’s back, even sharper than the first time. I swear I see bright lights before my eyes, feel the floor drop away, before he catches me easily in his arms, pulling me back against him . “Too much ?” I shake my head. “That’s five ....” Nick makes a funny whuffing sound, half-whisper, half-chuckle. He lifts me again, this time depositing

me on the bed, so gently it feels almost...reverential . “Louder than I’d intended, though,” he says. “Gonna save the other five for later ....” “Oh?” “Wanna hear you ....” Faintly, as if from far away, I hear the crackle of a condom wrapper. I spread my legs a little, shameless. I’m more impatient than I’ve ever been, watching him roll it on. My own hand strays between my legs, playing with my clit right in front of him . Nick’s eyes widen. His hand grips his cock. He gives it several lazy strokes as he drinks in the sight. Never thought I’d want an audience for something like this; never thought I could bear it. But for him, I spread myself open, putting everything on full view . “Can’t wait another minute ....” Seems Nick needs no further invitation; just like that, he’s on me, pinning me flat to the mattress . “Stop biting yourself,” he whispers, thumbing my

lip from between my teeth. I’m about to protest that I won’t be able to keep quiet, the whole building will hear, when he seals off my mouth with his palm, sheathing himself in the same instant. One sharp thrust and he’s in me, almost too much, too full, too much to process all at once . I see stars, actual stars, shimmering flecks of light before my eyes. His face swims in and out of focus. Then I remember to breathe, and I match his rhythm, taking his cock like nothing else matters. For right now, it doesn’t. It all melts away—the thin walls, the squeaking bed, every worry, every care— and everything’s starlight and ecstasy . I feel perfectly transfixed by him, held tight, filled to satiation, his hand over my mouth keeping my moans in check. Even the roughness of his pant legs against my thighs only adds a welcome friction. The draft from the window feels like a caress . It’s the simplest of gestures that brings me to an unexpected, overwhelming peak: he takes his hand from my mouth and cradles the back of my head, sealing my lips with a kiss. For a moment, I almost panic—this is new; I wasn’t ready—I’ve never given up that last shred of control in front of another living soul. But it’s too late. There’s no turning back. I give myself over to the tide, letting myself come apart in his arms. I’m dimly aware

he’s stroking my hair, kissing my eyelids, my cheeks, my lips, but I couldn’t respond if I wanted to . I’m so lost in my own orgasm, I’m not sure when he reaches his, but I know he must. I come down from my high to find him as boneless and fuckedout as I am. We’ve sort of crumpled into the pillows, still tangled together, breathing hard . “It’d be...totally gross to fall asleep like this, right ?” I clap my hand over my mouth to hold back an indecorous snort. “Completely nasty .” “Hate ourselves in the morning .” “Mm-hm.” I should peel myself off him. I really should. Just one more moment, till my knees stop quivering. I feel like rubber from the waist down . I feel his muscles tense and ripple against me as he stretches. Maybe he could just...carry me to the shower. Hold me up while he rinses me clean. Even better—if my bathtub were big enough for the both of us .... “All right. Okay. I’m getting up. Just....” I linger for a kiss, and another...and maybe a few after that. In

a moment, we’ll be all elbows and sliding soap in my tiny shower, hurrying to beat that hard fiveminute cap on the hot water. I take my time savoring this warm, lazy feeling . He helps me to my feet, and we get caught up again, making out against the wall. He doesn’t seem to be in any more of a hurry than I am, pausing to play with my hair, wrapping a stray lock around his finger. “Can I brush this for you later ?” “My hair ?” “Mm...it’s really soft. I’ll be gentle. Start at the ends, work out the tangles .” I like the thought of him taking care of me. Especially now, like this. “Yeah. You can brush it. Paint my nails too, if you want.” I mean that last part as a joke, but I feel his lips curve in a smile against my neck . “Maybe I will. Like, a nice soft pink. Kind of a dusty rose, so it doesn’t clash with your hair .” I bite my lip again. “Don’t make me laugh... I’m not one of those quiet, delicate laughers .” “Mm, I know.” Nick gives my ribs a quick tickle, causing me to squeak and double over. “I like that

about you. You love a good laugh: you forget yourself for a while. Get right into it.” He slides his arms around my waist. “I noticed that about you the first time we went out. At the comedy club. Wanted to make you laugh all the time .” “We can go back when they do an open mic, then. Triple-dog dare you .” He nudges me in the back. “C’mon. Let’s go shower .” “Yeah, changing the subject—bok-bok-bok .” “I’ll do it if you will .” We’re still whisper-fighting over who has the guts to do the open mic and who doesn’t when we step into the shower. Honestly, in this moment, I’d swear I could face just about anything .

Chapter Seventeen N ick She must’ve had a burglary, and recently: that’s the only thing that can explain the complete lack of, well, much of anything in the kitchen, plus the brand new locks. The place looks pretty grim in the light of day. It’s neat and clean, but apart from the sky-blue spiders painted all over the walls— must’ve been the kid—there are no homey touches, no signs anyone lives here. In the cupboards, I find one pot, one pan, one mixing bowl, and...whew! One sad plastic spatula . The Iron Chef kitchen it’s not, but I can work with this. Which is good, because I’ve decided the best way to make a good first impression on the kid is to be the guy feeding him pancakes . After last night, I definitely want to make a good impression. I’m still feeling kind of sheepish after my meltdown at the opera, but what came after... It did feel good to get everything out in the open, to slide some of the burden off my shoulders. And later, in bed.... I can’t help but smile. This time, I know it was good for her, too. I think we’ve got

something here, something promising . I shake flour and baking powder into the mixing bowl, and a little sugar and salt. Been a while since I made these from scratch: Katie likes that Aunt Jemima pancake-and-waffle crap, which is total sacrilege, but what can you do ? Awkwardly, it’s the kid who wakes up first. He wanders into the kitchen in his Superman footie pajamas just as my bacon’s starting to sizzle. I’m fully prepared for him to scream bloody murder and get me in trouble, but he just rises on his tiptoes, trying to see into the pan. He’ll probably be tall enough to get a peek pretty soon...but not today . He tugs on my pant leg. “Whatcha making ?” “Bacon pancakes.” I flip the bacon, holding up my free hand to keep any spatters off him . “Can I have some ?” “That’s the plan .” “I never had bacon pancakes.” He lifts up his arms. “Put me on the counter ?” “Your mom lets you sit on the counter ?”

He nods . “Really? She does ?” “No....” Sneaky little guy! He pulls at my pant leg again. “Are you my new babysitter ?” “If I am, would you say I’m doing a good job ?” Joey takes his time and thinks about that, standing back to take me in fully. “Well... You’re tall. And I like pancakes. But I don’t know yet if you’re fun or boring .” Fair enough. “Okay—so what’s fun to you ?” “Going to the park or the beach. Feeding birds. Finding shells .” “And what’s boring ?” “Watching TV on your phone .” “Yeah. That is pretty boring.” I start crumbling the bacon into the pancake batter. Joe starts jumping up and down, trying to get a better look. I envy him. I never have that kind of energy this early in the morning . Lina makes her appearance just as the first pancakes are fluffing up in the pan. She’s in a fuzzy

pink dressing gown that someone seems to have gone to town on with a tube of yellow puffy paint. Must’ve been the kid. He seems to have a thing for adding his own personal touch around the place . Joey jumps into her arms the second he spots her. “Mom! The new babysitter’s making bacon pancakes !” She musses up his hair. “Is that so ?” “Yeah. I like this one so far .” “Yeah, so do I.” She winks at me over his head. “You wash your hands yet ?” “I was just gonna .” “All right—so go on then.” Lina gives him a little push. He bounces off in the direction of the bathroom . “He thought I was the babysitter. Wasn’t sure what to tell him, so I kind of...went with it.” I ladle out more pancake batter . “He’ll be disappointed when Maria shows up.” Lina retrieves a folding TV table from on top of the fridge. Hadn’t noticed that there. “She’s good with him, and all, but she’s in high school. Spends most

of her time doing homework, or on her phone .” “He might’ve mentioned something about that.” An idea occurs to me. “Hey, when do you work today ?” “Not till six. Why ?” “I don’t have anything pressing to do, and Katie’s got a half day at school. Thought we could pick her up at lunch, take the kids to the Museum of Natural History? Checking out the dinosaurs might soften the blow of me not being the babysitter .” “Joey does love a good dinosaur. Yeah—yeah, let’s do that.” Lina digs out some plastic kiddie cutlery and a sippy cup, and sets them up on the TV table. “Sorry—there’s only enough table for Joey. We’ll have to balance our plates on our knees .” I shrug. “No table, no problem. Did I mention I love camping ?” “I wanna go camping.” Joey’s back, holding up his freshly-washed hands for inspection. “See? All clean .” “Good job, honey.” Lina kisses him on top of his head. “Go ahead and sit down—you want syrup or jam ?”

“Syrup!” He starts toward the table, but screeches to a halt moments later. “I mean, syrup please . ” “You got it .” I’m impressed: Lina’s got a happy, healthy kid. Polite too. Whatever her place looks like, whatever her life looks like, she’s doing something right. Joey’s positively bubbling with energy and good spirits, and there’s no mistaking the affection between them . When we’re all crowded around the tiny table, passing the syrup back and forth, Lina nudges Joey. “Hey, you remember that picnic we had the other night ?” Joey nods, mouth full of pancakes . “Nick here’s the one who gave us the basket .” His little face lights up. He chews, swallows, and jumps up to give me a sticky hug. “I liked the mouse brains,” he says . “Mouse...brains ?” Lina laughs. “He means the smoked oysters .” Of course. “They do kind of look like mouse brains,

don’t they?” I make a mouse face, pulling out my ears and baring my front teeth. Joey giggles, especially when I start squeaking at him . “Oh, God, don’t encourage him !” “Mouse brains !” “Ugh! Boys !” Lina somehow manages to get breakfast back under control, but every time I catch Joey’s eye, it sets him off snickering again. Looks like I could be a bad influence . Joey winds up quite spectacularly glazed with syrup and pancake crumbs, so Lina whisks him off for a bath while I tackle the cleanup. I text Katie, as well: can’t have her taking off with her friends and ruining my plan. She texts back right away, which tells me she’s got her phone on in class—what’d I tell her about that ? wat? y the museum? cant we go shopping? and whos ur friend ? Sigh. because, katie, shopping is not a leisure activity. it is something you do when you need supplies. and the museum is educational. also, why are you texting in class ?

because im not . Eyeroll emoji, eyeroll emoji, and...yep. Another eyeroll emoji . im in home ec which is not a real class . plus u didnt answer, whos ur friend? did u get a girlfriend ???????? Did I? Maybe... I hope so. Still. Time to put on my stern dad hat: katie, can you get an F in home ec ? wat? i guess? if ur rly dumb ? then it is a real class. pay attention in home ec. and you’ll meet my friend this afternoon . :-) I get a sticking-out-tongue emoji for that—and, a moment later, a line of thumbs-ups . Guess we’re on for the museum .

Chapter Eighteen E lina “What’d you do, tell her it’d be good practice for babysitting jobs?” It’s cute, the way Katie is with Joey: she’s been helping him sound out the names of all the dinosaurs, and lecturing him on what they’d have looked like with their skins still on. He’s eating it up, even though I suspect she got half her information from Jurassic Park . “Nah. She just loves an audience .” “Ha—look at that!” They’re roaring at each other now, holding up their hands like claws . “Katie, no roaring indoors.” Nick grins. “Besides, I heard this theory, a while ago, that they actually sounded more like birds. Cuckoo! Cuckoo ! ” Joey and Katie look at each other and burst out laughing. They head off for the next exhibit, honking and whistling . “Yeah... Not sure that’s an improvement.” I shake my head as Joey launches into his best crow-in-agarbage-can squawkfest .

Nick leans in close—so close I feel his stubble on my neck—and does a Donald Duck kwaaaaaaa in my ear . “Oh, not you too !” Nick darts this way and that, quacking at me from all angles. The kids, of course, take note. In an instant, I’m the center of a storm of hoots and chirps and squawks. Reminds me of the time Joey got chased by a pack of aggressive geese at the park. Only I can’t distract these three with a wellaimed breakfast burrito . Well... If you can’t beat them, join them . I turn my back on the security guard, who’s looking at us like a pack of hillbillies invading a society ball, take a deep breath, and shut them all down with a hair-raising seagull shriek . “Aw, Mommy! ” Joey claps his hands over his ears . Katie stares at me, round-eyed. “So, like, if we go out for lunch after, are you going to steal my fries ?” “Yep. So you’d better watch out .” She smirks. “Hope you like vinegar and

mayonnaise.” And just like that, she’s flouncing off, an adoring Joey in tow . Nick’s watching them fondly. “Y’know, she hasn’t checked her phone once since we’ve been here .” “Joey’s not even at that age yet, and he already knows how to take mine and look things up on YouTube .” “Oh? What does he look for ?” “Spongebob Squarepants. Cat videos.” I grimace. “Farts .” “Farts? ” Nick covers his mouth, but I can still hear him laughing through his nose. “Sorry—I know that’s not great. But if I’d got my hands on a phone at his age, I can’t say I wouldn’t have looked them up too .” “Can’t even imagine having one, at that age.” I really can’t—when I was Joe’s age, the hot toy was the Gameboy. And whenever I’d try begging for one, Vanya’d shoo me out in the yard to do “real kid stuff.” He and Mama had just moved in together, but he was never shy about playing dad . Nick seems like a good father, too—the kind I’d want Joey to have. It’s way too early to be thinking

along those lines, but .... He pokes me in the ribs. “Where’d you go ?” “Mm?” “You were like—“ He taps his temple and stares off into space. “Pondering the mysteries of the universe .” I feel myself turning a little red. I can’t possibly tell him what I was really thinking. “Oh, uh... Just thinking about when I was his age. Vanya wouldn’t let me have a Gameboy .” “Wait, the same guy who just married your mother last year?” Nick cocks his head. “What’s the story there ?” I pounce eagerly on the diversion. “Oh, they’ve been together half a lifetime. But as far as marriage went, well, at first it was too soon. Dad was barely in his grave. I mean, it’d been a couple of years, but you know how people are. Especially with Vanya being his best friend. There would’ve been gossip. And after that... Honestly, I never asked. I think they just got comfortable .” Nick gives me another poke and nods toward the kids. “Check that out.” Katie’s down on one knee,

fixing Joey’s hair, which has somehow gone from neatly-combed to bird’s nest explosion between the last exhibit and here. Joey’s voice drifts over: he’s asking her to be his new babysitter . “Looks like you just got replaced,” I say . “Oh, that hurts.” He claps a hand over his heart. “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve been fired from anything .” “First time’s always the worst .” Joey and Katie have found a display of trilobites. She’s trying to convince him they’re called that because they try to bite, but she can’t keep a straight face, and he’s having none of it. They both agree they have weird heads and look like aliens . “What are you doing for Christmas ?” Well, that came out of nowhere. “Oh, the usual— family, presents, food coma. No one ever told Mama stuff the goose, not your family. You ?” “Same, only the family part sort of fell through.” He frowns. “Katie’s grandparents, y’know, on her mom’s side, were supposed to come down, but her arthritis is flaring up. And her mom—well, she’s with Doctors without Borders. We don’t see a lot of

her .” “How’s Katie taking that ?” “Hard to tell. She says she’s fine as long as she gets to go on her best friend’s New Year’s ski trip, but... Doesn’t that seem sort of...un-Christmassy to you ?” “Well, at least it’s a winter sport.” He’s right, though: you can go skiing any time there’s snow. Christmas is meant to be special. “That reminds me of something we used to do in our neighborhood— not sure if they still do, but it was a big deal when I was growing up .” “Oh, yeah ?” “Mm... They’d round up all the pensioners with nobody left alive to remember them, and all the kids whose families were—who couldn’t afford much of a Christmas. And they’d rent a hall, throw this massive banquet, with all the trimmings. The kids got new coats, a toy or two; the old folks... Well, honestly, more than a few of them got drunk. Someone always snuck in a flask. But the idea was for them to have the next best thing to a family holiday, even if they didn’t have anyone .” Nick looks thoughtful. “We deliver a ton of food to

people like that. Through the food pantry, I mean. Old people living alone.” He’s watching Joey and Katie with a faraway look on his face. “I did a lot of the holiday deliveries last year. Some of them... It broke my heart. Their faces lit up when they saw the Christmas extras in their boxes... But they didn’t have a single decoration up. Like they couldn’t see the point, just for themselves .” “I wouldn’t, either, if it wasn’t for Joey. Not having anyone to share it with—I wouldn’t want to be reminded. Wouldn’t want to look at the decorations, and think....” I swallow hard. There’s suddenly a lump in my throat . “The families with kids are just as hard—some of them are struggling so bad....” Nick turns to me. “We should do your neighborhood thing. Through the food pantry. I mean, they all come in there—the old people, the kids, the families. It’d just be a matter of getting them together. We could do a neighborhood party for each location.” He clears his throat. “If you want to, I mean. Sorry—I get carried away sometimes when I get an idea. Not sure if you have time, or — “ “I have time.” I really don’t. But I love the idea. And, hell, he should do it. This is what he’s truly passionate about. He should get to see the smiles he puts on people’s faces for once. If I can help with

that — Joey runs up, tripping over his shoelace and catapulting into my arms. I catch him neatly. “Hey. No running .” “Sorry! But I wanna show you—“ He straightens up and holds out his hand, an expression of intense concentration on his face. I watch him walk a quarter over his knuckles—well, sort of. He helps it along with his thumb, and it falls off halfway through, but it’s still pretty impressive for a kid with tiny hands . “Katie show you that ?” “Yeah. And she let me keep the quarter .” “You remember to say thanks ?” He takes his time thinking about that. “I think so. Maybe? I forget .” “Well, you’d better go back over there and make sure. But first—“ I bend down and retie his shoe. He knows how to do it himself, but he does a crappy job. I don’t want his memory of this afternoon ruined by skinned knees or a bumped head .

The afternoon does end up perfect: we stop for a late lunch/early dinner after the museum, and Nick offers to drop Joey home with Maria, so I won’t have to do the usual mad rush for work. It’s so perfect it’s almost... I don’t know. Too perfect ? A chill goes down my spine as we stand beside his car saying our goodbyes. I glance around: nothing’s threatening, nothing’s out of place, but I can’t quite shake that sense of dread. On impulse, I snatch my lipstick out of my purse, flip it open, and apply a tiny smear to Nick’s cuff. He cocks a brow. “What was that for ?” “Okay—don’t laugh. It’s just... You know on TV, when two people share this incredible day, and you just know one or both of them’s about to be written off the show in a horrifying way ?” “Oh, yeah—like, that impossibly beautiful, sugarcrusted moment, where they’re saying the perfect goodbye, without a clue that’s what they’re doing ?” “Exactly.” I take my thumb and smear the lipstick around. “So I’m making our goodbye that tiny bit shitty, so this won’t be the part where we kiss and never see each other again .” “Don’t even say that.” He leans in and kisses me

and doesn’t let go till we hear wolf-whistles. We’re both slightly flushed when he lets go. “Even if you stepped back and fell into a manhole that went all the way to hell, I’d be like Orpheus, rescuing you from the underworld .” I can’t quite shake that uneasy feeling. “That story didn’t end well .” He pulls me close again, kisses me on my forehead, both cheeks, and the tip of my nose. “This one will.” He presses even closer, to whisper in my ear. “Your cruel master wouldn’t let you vanish into the pit .” That gives me a whole different kind of frisson. I smile, relieved, and in that moment, the sun breaks through the clouds. My anxiety seems foolish in the warm, bright light. That chill down my spine—cold, and nothing more. I’m just doing that thing I do, where I freak out over stuff that hasn’t happened yet, and probably never will . When he gives me a last lingering hug, a smudge of lipstick transfers itself from his cuff to my shirt. I choose to take that as a sign everything’s going to be fine .

Chapter Nineteen N ick The call comes in just after three, two days after our museum date. I’m out of breath, fresh from the gym, and my “Hello?” comes out more forceful than intended . “H-hello?” It’s a nervous female voice—one I don’t recognize. “Is that Nick Carter ?” “Yes, it is .” “And, uh... Are you the Nick Carter who knows Joey Petrov’s mom? Elina Petrova ?” I almost trip over my own feet. My gym bag hits the ground. “Yes—who’s this ?” “Oh, thank God—you’re the ninth Nick Carter I’ve tried! I was starting to think—uh, sorry!” I hear fast, panicked breathing on the other end. “It’s just, Miss Petrova was supposed to pick Joey up from preschool three hours ago, and no one can reach her. Mrs. Dz—Dzoh—ah...her emergency contact said she’d been seeing a lot of you, so I thought you might’ve seen her .”

I flash back to our last goodbye. But...she wrecked my shirt. She can’t have— What am I thinking? There’s no jinx. Everything’s fine. She’s stuck in traffic. Her phone’s dead. We’ll see each other tonight, and laugh our asses off at how for one terrible moment, I thought .... No. I’m not even putting words to it . “I haven’t seen her,” I say. Something else occurs to me: “Is anyone coming for Joey ?” “His grandpa’s on his way .” Okay. Okay—that’s good, at least. “And... Has anyone called the cops ?” “The cops ?” “Yeah. It’s probably nothing, but she has an ex, kind of a stalker type. I don’t know if he’s dangerous, but I’d say it’s at least worth having them swing by and check on him. Just in case.” What the fuck was his full, real name? She told me —it was— “It’s Giuseppe Bentivoglio, but he goes by Joe .” “Oh...oh, yeah. He’s on our no-pickup list. I’ll do that. I’ll call right now. Thanks .”

“Sure. Let me know if you hear anything, or if there’s a problem with Joey being picked up. My phone’s always on .” I hang up the phone and pick up my gym bag. And stand there, feet rooted to the ground: where was I going? I glance at my watch, as if I’ll find the answer there. Three hours—it’s only been three hours. A lot of things can make a person three hours late, but... Damned if I can think of many that would also prevent a “Hey, I’m running late!” call. Lina’s not the type to drop the ball when it comes to her kid . Her kid—that’s right. Katie. I was picking her up from school. She’s got that piano exam. Or—no. That’s next week. Today... We’re getting her a new winter coat. Because I bumped an open bottle of nail polish onto her warmest one. I toss my bag in the back seat and get going, before I wind up leaving my own kid hanging . My phone doesn’t ring all the way to Katie’s school. It keeps right on not ringing through store after store, rack after rack of coats that don’t meet Katie’s standards. By the time she’s settled on a flared red wool thing that strikes me as way too sophisticated for a nine-year-old, it’s five o’clock and I’m seriously starting to worry .

Maybe the playgroup lady forgot to mention she’d called me. Maybe Lina’s back in the arms of her family, having rich Russian snacks with Vanya and Joe . Katie’s busy checking out fuzzy mittens, so I give her a try. Straight to voicemail. I hang up and text her instead: hey, you ok? joe’s teacher was looking for you. ended up calling me . I watch the screen, but no little dots pop up to indicate she’s typing . “Dad, can I get these?” Katie plops a pair of black cashmere mitts directly onto my phone. I rub them between my fingers: nice and soft . “Yeah, go ahead.” I look her up and down— anything missing? Can’t tell. “Need anything else? Boots? Earmuffs ?” “Ew, so dorky ! ” “What?” “Earmuffs.” She wrinkles her nose. “Can we get avocado melts ?” “Yeah—yeah, just... At least pick out a hat first.” I don’t want her out there with nothing on her head

when the cold settles in . “I have a million hats.” She gives me a funny look. “What’s the matter with you? You’re, like, glued to your phone. Did that lady from the museum ghost you ?” “No, she didn’t ghost me.” At least, I don’t think she did . “Keep telling yourself that, Dad .” “Hey, c’mon—it’s not nice to mock people’s suffering.” I can’t help but check my phone one more time. Katie treats me to a theatrical eyeroll. I resolve to quit looking at my phone, at least till we’ve eaten. What is it they say about a watched kettle? Probably applies to phones, too . Halfway through our avocado melts, my phone finally rings. I snatch it to my ear so fast I don’t even have time to check who’s calling . “Hello?” “Ah...yes. Hello.” It’s a man on the other end—a man with a thick Russian accent. Shit. No chance this is good news. “Yes: this is Ivan Vasiliev— Vanya. Lina’s father. I, ah...I am told you are friends with her ?”

“Yeah. Yeah—is she all right ?” There’s a lot of noise in the background—people shouting, milling around. None of it sounds good. “We’re at the police station, her mother and I. They’re not listening to us. Lina doesn’t do this. She never is late. So I’m asking, anything you know —anything she’s said—she was with you this morning ?” “No, not this morning. We had plans for tonight, but I haven’t heard from her since yesterday.” I look up. Katie’s stopped eating. I swivel in my seat to hide the expression on my face. “You want me to come down there? Maybe I can talk to them, or — “ He cuts me off with a forceful tchah sound. “No use. They say, well, she’s adult—we have to wait a whole day. Adults don’t have parents who worry? Agh!” He hangs up on me. Can’t blame him: he’s got enough on his plate. I blow out a long breath . “Dad? What’s going on ?” “I’m....” How much do I tell her? “I’m not entirely sure.” I force a smile. “Probably nothing. Lina’s just running a little late, and her dad wanted to know if she was with us .”

Katie’s face falls. “Sorry for making fun of you earlier.” She pushes her pickle toward me like a peace offering. “Here. I know you like her. I liked her too .” “I’m sure everything’s fine,” I say, as much for my benefit as Katie’s . But the evening wears on, and nobody calls or texts. Midnight comes and goes. I check and recheck my phone more times than I can count, but the battery’s always charged; the ringer’s always on. I haven’t missed so much as a Facebook alert . Some time between the wee hours and the ass crack of dawn, I give up on sleep. It’s no use: every time I start drifting off, I swear I feel my phone vibrate next to my pillow, and I’m back on high alert. I give in and fire off another text: you end up getting home ok? hope I’m not waking you ! :-) This time, she starts typing right away. Relief floods over me, so powerful my head swims. And then... It stops. I wait thirty seconds, a minute. It doesn’t start again . I’m getting a sick feeling about this . I know you’re there. I saw you typing . ;-)

Nothing. listen, if I did something wrong, if you don’t want to talk to me, fine. just tell me you’re ok . This time, the reply’s almost instant. I stare, stunned . take a hint bernie madoff scum ure yesterdays news bubye Bernie Madoff... What ? who the fuck is this? Whoever it is, they’re not even trying to type like her . who the fuck you think ? A strange, grim calm settles over me. This fucker wants to play? I’ll make sure texting me back is the worst mistake he ever makes. I switch over to my laptop to reply . I know who you are . I know WHERE you are . tap to see how .

I drum my fingers on my leg. This guy seems like a class-A dumbass, but there’s a chance he at least knows not to download anything from an unknown sender. Almost a minute ticks by, and—hallelujah! Bait taken. I’m definitely talking to a moron . He keeps texting, mocking me for sending him a broken file, while I wait for the malware to finish installing itself. I’m on a weird kind of high, hopped up on exhaustion and adrenaline. Got a song in my head—Rat in the Kitchen. I’m tapping my foot to the rhythm, singing off-key. Feels like a screw’s come loose in my head . An alert from my laptop snaps me out of my fugue. Two clicks later, I’m looking at Lina’s phone interface. Activating the camera doesn’t help much. All I can see is someone I recognize from the news stories as Joe Bentivoglio pecking at the screen, no doubt peppering me with abuse. BFD; already knew it was him. I take a screenshot anyway, while I wait for him to put down the phone. The second he does, I navigate to the GPS. Elsinboro—what the hell’s out there? I screenshot that, too, archive her phone to my laptop, and shut down the connection . Now the cops’ll have to do something .

Chapter Twenty E lina Worst headache ever. And why... Why’s it so dark? Shouldn’t it be—what time is it ? I sit up, but .... What the fuck ? My head smacks into something cold and unyielding. When I go to rub it, there’s something digging into my wrists. Something—a rope. I’m...tied up. And moving . Oh—oh; it’s a dream . I close my eyes, relieved. Drift for a while . Hard to get back to sleep, with the pillow all flattened out, and so hard. And the quilt must’ve slid off. I grope after it, but .... A rope? Wait—that’s real ? A sudden earthquake rattles my teeth and bounces my head off the carpet. I blink, but it’s no use.

Can’t see a thing. What... What was I doing ? Breakfast—I was about to make — No. Did that. Dropped Joey off at preschool. And then...what ? I kick out experimentally. I’m tied at the ankles as well. Fuck—fuck. That wasn’t an earthquake, either. I’m in the trunk of a car, on a bumpy road. I was at Walmart, picking up training wheels, and then I was.... Did I get on the bus ? Doesn’t matter. It’s not like I can go back and not do whatever I was doing when this happened . I call out experimentally. “Hey!” No one’s going to hear that over the sound of the engine. The carpet, the small space, they’re deadening my voice. Still, I can’t just do nothing. I try again, louder. “ Hey ! ” If anyone can hear me, there’s no sign of it. I’ll have to get the trunk open. Or kick out a taillight. Something other drivers would notice. Isn’t there supposed to be some kind of glow in the dark release lever, so your kids won’t get trapped playing hide and seek? Can’t see it—can’t see a fucking thing, and of course. Of course. I’m facing the wrong way .

Deep breaths . Rolling onto my back is easy enough. Helpful...not so much. The release lever’s there, all right: glowing merrily on the floor by my head, cut off from whatever it’s supposed to be attached to . “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me .” Speaking aloud helps a little. It’s reassuring to hear my voice come out more pissed than scared. I hold onto that thin comfort as I start groping around with my bound hands. Maybe there’s still something I can use: a crowbar, a box cutter, a goddamn air horn. Anything that can get me loose or make some noise . My fingertips brush against something soft and bulky, cheap vinyl fabric stretched tight. A bag, I think. I scrabble some more and find a zipper, with a familiar Koosh key fob clipped to it. My gym bag. So, someone snatched me and my sweaty workout clothes ? Doesn’t make sense. The bag’s way too full, anyway. They must’ve...what? Broken in to grab whatever they missed the first time, caught me at home, and decided to steal me too ? No.

Something else occurs to me, something disturbing: I haven’t heard the whoosh of another vehicle passing by in... Actually, I’m not sure I’ve heard one at all. And we haven’t stopped at a single light. We must be on the highway, but... Why’s the highway so bumpy? Where the hell are we ? My stomach dips as we do a sudden swerve. Gravel rattles on the hubcap. So, we’re...where? On a dirt road... Where would you even find a dirt road around here? Jersey? Further afield ? Getting the trunk open suddenly seems like a better way to freeze to death than attract attention. I focus on the bag instead. Maybe there’s something warm in there. A coat, a blanket, a — The car jerks to a stop. Guess this is the moment of truth. Should’ve tried harder to untie myself—and what the hell do I do now? Pretend to be unconscious? Try to kick out? No time to think: I hear a door slam, and footsteps in the dirt. Just...just... I need a minute. I need — Don’t panic . There’s a dull thud, and the trunk swings open . “Hey, Ellie .”

I can’t see his face, with the bright afternoon light glaring in mine, but there’s no need. Only one person ever called me Ellie. My headache pounds and throbs behind my eyes . “Joe, what the fuck ? ” “Welcome home, sweetheart .” “This is not — “ “Hey, hey—you haven’t even seen it yet.” He looms over me. I shrink away, terrified he’s going to kiss me, or worse. “Oh, relax. I’m not going to rape you. Just gonna untie your feet, so you can walk up your new driveway like a lady. Or would you prefer I carry you over the threshold ?” Ugh. “Just untie me .” He cocks his head, making a show of thinking it over. “You know, I don’t think I will. I actually kind of like the threshold idea. Never did get to do that .” And whose fault was that? “Come on. This is stupid. I can tell we’re way out in Buttfuck, New Jersey. What am I going to do, run ?” “Nope. ‘Cause I’m not giving you the chance.” He

hoists me over his shoulder, bumping my head one more time on the way out of the trunk. “I’ll let you go later. Once you’ve seen what I’ve done for you .” I desperately, vehemently don’t want to see. I jerk my legs blindly, hoping to kick him in the nuts, but I can’t get any kind of momentum going . “Ssh. You’ll love this, I promise. It’s what we always talked about.” He pats my ass in a way that’s probably meant to be reassuring, but just makes my skin crawl. And... What we always talked about? I rack my brains. We always talked about money—how much he had, to begin with; then, when it all fell apart, how little I made. What did he do, rob a bank ? I’m starting to get dizzy from hanging upside-down when he comes to a stop. A key rattles in a lock, followed by a rusty creak, and the smell of old mildew hits me in the face. I’m a hundred percent positive we never talked about this . He bangs my thigh on the doorframe, getting me inside. The ache’s just starting to subside when he tosses me on a lumpy couch—definitely the source of the mildew smell. Or one of the sources. This place is disgusting .

“So? What do you think ?” I shouldn’t antagonize him. But I’m cold and I’m angry, and I think I’ve got a concussion. I can’t help myself. “It’s...a haunted house ?” “In the country! It’s a house in the country! Just like we always wanted !” I never, ever wanted a house in the country. I... This is.... “If you’d ever listened to me, even once, you’d know I hate the country. Bugs, dirt roads, nothing for miles around—what would possibly make you think — ?” He slaps me. My ears ring, but it’s the shock that shuts me up, more than the pain. He’s never hit me before. He’s thrown things at me, assaulted my furniture, literally pissed in my cereal, but — “You! ” Suddenly, it all makes sense. The break-in, my pissed-on clothes, Joey’s missing presents—“It was you !” “What was me ?” “You know what! The breakin, the...the... You took Joey’s Christmas presents! You stole from a fouryear-old!” I’m fuming. We’re in uncharted territory, here, territory where he hits me, territory where he

might actually kill me, but my outrage is boiling over. “What the fuck, Joe?—just what the fuck ? ” He kneels in front of me. To my horror, he takes my hands in his and starts rubbing them in a sick parody of comfort. “Ssh—calm down, Ellie. I didn’t steal anything, just relocated it. And when we’re all back together, as a family — “ “No!” I jerk my hands free. He snatches them back, far less gently this time . “Just hear me out. This place is a fixer-upper, but with a woman’s touch, a few bottles of bleach — “ “The dead rat—that was you too ?” He squeezes my hands so tight I feel my bones grind together. “So you understand, this can go one of two ways. There’s the way where you reach down into that cold, withered heart of yours and remember what we had, or there’s the hard way .” “It was you, wasn’t it ?” He scoffs. “What do you think? The strawberry milk—that was me, too. And I left your stove on. Just a little reminder I know exactly how to make you crazy .”

“You’ve...been in my apartment .” “Jerked off in your bed .” All those times I thought I smelled his cologne on the sheets, blamed my imagination.... I want to throw up. “What do you want ?” “The future you promised me .” This is bad. This is...really bad. My anger’s down to a dull simmer, stifled by the gooseflesh creeping over my skin. Even my scalp’s crawling. For the first time, it occurs to me I could die right here. There’s moss growing on the arm of the couch— fucking moss. If he kills me here, it’ll grow over me too. I’ll waste away to green-carpeted bones, and no one will ever find me . Joey could grow up thinking I abandoned him . I bite back every venomous insult trembling on my lips. I have to choose my words carefully. “The future I...the... Tell me about it again ?” “You remember.” He’s caressing my hands again. My stomach’s one giant knot. “Back when we first met, when we used to lie under that skylight in my old place, talking deep into the night ?”

I remember his old place. He lived on the fifth floor of a twenty-story highrise. The closest thing he had to a skylight was the steady red glow of the smoke detector. I remind myself, smile and nod. Like a good little bobblehead . “Yeah. You remember. We’d drink cheap wine, plan out the house and the kids, the garden leading down to the stream...tire swing hung from a willow tree .” “Tire swing, yeah....” I feel dazed, almost drugged. My eyelids are drooping. I bite my cheek to stay alert . “Junior’s gonna love it. We’ll put in a pool when he’s bigger. Teach him to swim with those orange water wings .” A deep chill settles into my gut. I did buy orange water wings, so Joey can start swimming lessons next summer. But I’ve been keeping them at Mama’s, so he won’t find them early and ruin the surprise. So... How the fuck are they part of this conversation? “I... What else ?” “You’ll never have to work again. I got a job over in Vineland, so you can stay home with the kids .” “The kids ?”

“Yeah. Junior needs some brothers and sisters.” He plants a soft, almost reverent kiss on my forehead. I barely resist the urge to squirm out of my skin. “We’ll raise our own little army .” Army? What are we, a doomsday cult ? “You don’t need some... You don’t need that hedge fund douchebag to make you happy.” Joe bares his teeth. He’s almost snarling. “Yeah—I know what you’ve been up to behind my back. I know you took him to our place. I know you fucked him in our bed .” My head’s spinning—our place? Our bed? Where...what—I don’t think I’ve taken Nick to a single place I set foot in with Joe. And how could I still have the same bed? I was the one who moved out, taking only what I could carry . I manage to choke out a “sorry.” It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, like I’m betraying everything I’ve fought so hard to build . “It’s not even so much that you did it,” he says. “It’s how you went out of your way to rub it in my face. I wasn’t celibate, either, the entire time we’ve been apart, but you never had to know about that, did you ?”

What, when you dated that girl who worked across the street from me, and picked her up after every shift? Honking your ass off the whole time ? “You were... You were very discreet .” “You, though—you went out with him in the middle of the day. Let him hold my son’s hand when you crossed the street. You had... You had tawdry little assignations in roach motels .” I did not ! “The thing is, with men like that—you’re disposable to them. Just another commodity. Look at the way he threw away the mother of his own child. I’d never do that to you.” He brushes his thumb over my cheek. I jerk my head back without thinking . “She works overseas! They were never a couple! He didn’t—ah !” Joe’s hand tightens on my jaw, till I’m afraid he’s going to break it. “That’s what he tells you. You think someone like that’s going to give you the truth? He’s a professional liar. I’m telling you, men like him, they can afford... They buy themselves this perfect cover—perfect house, perfect clothes, perfect car — “

I think of Nick’s actual car: kind of old, kind of boring, full of junk and debris. He even had Katie’s old car seat in the trunk, and the girl’s nine years old. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. I fight it back hard: now is not the time . “—but it’s all just a honeytrap, so they can suck you in with the glitz and glamor, and shit you out when they’re done. Use you up, ruin you, leave you destroyed for any other man. ‘Cause no reality, no matter how beautiful it is, is ever going to measure up to that level of illusion .” I nod along. It’s hard to fight the sense of unreality settling over me, when every word out of his mouth is more ridiculous than the last . “But I think I caught you in time. A few weeks of fresh country air, you and Junior playing in a real back yard, living like nature intended... I think you can still be deprogrammed .” Something finally breaks through the fog. “Wait... Wait—you want to bring Joey here ?” “Tomorrow morning. My ex is gonna pick him up from preschool. He’ll be here in time for lunch .” I barely register Joe’s fingers combing through my hair. This... This can’t happen. Can’t be allowed to

happen. I can’t allow it to happen. If I’m going to end up a moss-covered skeleton, it won’t be with a smaller skeleton cradled in my arms . “Tomorrow, uh....” I glance around. The wallpaper’s falling away in grubby folds. There’s a hole near an electrical outlet that looks like it was made by mice. The carpet’s one giant stain. “Shouldn’t we fix the place up first ?” Joe scowls . I press on quickly. “Not—not all the way, I mean. Just...a coat of paint, some Febreze, maybe rip up the carpet? Bet there’s a great hardwood floor underneath .” “You’re just sta — “ “I’m not stalling.” It’s my turn to cut him off. This is too important. “It’s just, there’s mold in here. Kids are sensitive. They can die from that. Plus, the heat’s going to be on, at least for the next few days. People—Vanya’ll be around. Probably the cops too. If you—if they notice anything weird, they could freak out. Move away. We’d never see Joey again. Don’t... Don’t mess this up for us. Please . ” For a long moment, neither of us says a word. Then he sweeps me into a crushing hug. “You said us! ”

He’s absolutely gushing. “You’re upset; you weren’t even choosing your words, and you still said us. You said it automatically.” He pulls back so he can look me in the eye. “You have no idea... You can’t know what that means to me .” I hold my breath. He hasn’t actually agreed yet . “I’ll drive into town later, see if there’s a hardware store. We can take the weekend, get the place ready .” Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes.... Time—this buys me time . “This’ll give us some time to reconnect as well .” And that’s...not so great. I reflexively press my knees together. “Could you untie me, at least? Before you go ?” Joe gives me a long, considering look. “When I get home .” I want to rebel against the notion of this place being home, but I can’t risk him changing his mind. “How long will you be?” I ask instead . “No time at all.” He plants a loud, smacking kiss on top of my head. “Just sit tight .”

“Maybe pick up some Christmas decorations while you’re out? And something to eat?” I’m not in the mood for decorating or eating, but the longer he’s gone, the more time I’ll have to mount my escape . “Still such a princess.” He pushes my hair back from my face. “Anything else I can get Your Majesty? Flowers? Chocolates? Gold-plated toilet seat ?” “Some flowers might be nice. Strong-smelling ones, like gardenias .” “Can’t believe you said that with a straight face.” A sappy, fond note’s crept into his voice. It’s making me sick. Or maybe that’s... Whatever he did to knock me out. I can’t feel any obvious sore spots on my face or head, so...chloroform, maybe? A roofie? Did I eat or drink anything weird ? “Hurry back,” I say, more to get him to leave than anything else . He finally does, but not before checking and retying my restraints. Freeing myself won’t be easy, but I cannot fuck this up. Don’t know when I’ll get another chance. The second I hear the key turn in the lock, I’m on my knees, shuffling my way to the kitchen. I’ll get my hands on something sharp, and be as good as free .

Joe doesn’t get to win this one .

Chapter Twenty-One N ick Fucking cops—unbelievable ! I showed them everything I had—Bentivoglio on Lina’s phone, the location from her GPS, but all I got was the runaround. “All that proves is she’s with her boyfriend.” “Women often go back to abusive partners. I’d say it’s...at least fifty percent of the time. Maybe more like eighty.” “How’d you get this, anyway? You some kind of hacker, looking through people’s phones ?” Going over their heads wasn’t nearly as effective as it is on TV. Some bored-sounding chief called me back around noon, promising he’d get the local police to swing by the address I’d found. Or see if he could get them to. So... Someone’ll maybe put in a minimal effort. Not quite the result I’d anticipated . So, fine. Fine. I’ll go myself. If you want something done right .... Can I do this right, though? I’m the first to admit

I’m a city slicker, dyed in the wool. Aside from my yearly camping trips with Katie, the closest I get to nature is vacuuming up the occasional spider . Screw it. They’re in Jersey, not the Appalachian Mountains. Kind of a rural part of Jersey, but, hell, they’ve got cell service. What’s the worst that could happen within range of a cell tower ? I check in on Katie. She’s flopped out on the living room floor, homework spread around her. She barely looks up when I let her know I’m heading out . “Hey. I might be back late. What are you doing for dinner ?” That earns me a bored glance, at least. “Probably going to Cindy’s. Or I’ll have Emily make me something .” Normally, I’d remind her the housekeeper isn’t her personal chef, but I’m already halfway out the door. Now I’ve got a plan, there’s a rising sense of urgency spurring me on. Wasting the entire morning on the cops was bad enough. Stopping to lecture Katie on something I know she just said to annoy me isn’t a good use of my time . The drive out to Elsinboro’s a depressing one. It’s

not exactly Deliverance country, but for someone like me, it might as well be. I’ve never been much for the country. Don’t even have a place in the Hamptons. It’s not so bad in summer, when everything’s green and alive, but there’s something creepy about bare branches grasping at a gray sky. It’s too much of a—a visual representation of depression. Desolate . Then, there’s the whole question of what I’m going to do when I get there. A physical confrontation doesn’t seem like a great idea. Too many things could go wrong. He could have a knife. Or a gun. Lina could get in the middle. He could somehow twist things around so I end up in prison. Technically, I am the one trespassing . But the alternative is to do nothing. Can’t do that . I figure I’ll park a mile or so out, walk up on the house. Google Earth gave me a pretty good look at the area. There’s a long dirt road, plenty of trees— if I stick to the woods, I should be able to creep right up without being seen. Then, it’ll just be a matter of gathering evidence. A picture of her in the house? No. Not enough. Doesn’t prove she’s there against her will . Maybe I can do a video. Catch him threatening her on tape .

Not sure I could stand and watch that, and not do anything . No. Got to play this smart. It’ll only go worse for her if I barge in half-cocked . I almost miss my turnoff, playing out increasingly unlikely rescue scenarios in my head, trying to plan for every contingency. It’s a spray of fresh dirt at the intersection ahead that jolts me back to reality. Someone’s taken this turn recently, and too fast . I want to put the pedal to the metal myself. But I force myself to take the turn at a more sedate pace, and slow to a crawl as my odometer marks off another mile. Any closer, and I’ll come within earshot. It’s quiet out here—I feel almost like I’m missing a sense, without the city noise to keep my ears busy . I pull into what might once have been a driveway and kill the engine. Even taking pains to close it gently, the thud of the door makes me wince. Feels like sound could carry forever out here . That’s nonsense, though. I don’t have time for nonsense. I lock up, flinching again at the cheery peep-peep , and set off at a jog through the woods. Which, I’ve got to say, is also twice as awkward as I expected. The ground’s bumpy under the trees,

and there’s all kinds of stuff underfoot: dead branches, rotting logs, a ton of tangling viney crap —the worst . I make an executive decision to get out of the woods till the house is in sight. Yeah, if Joe decides to go for a walk, I’ll be the first thing he’ll see coming around the corner... But how likely is he to take a nice stroll in the woods, with a hostage back home? I’ll chance it . Once I’m free of the trees, it’s a quick jog to the bend. That’s when I realize, with a sinking feeling, there’s no need to be sneaky. I’m looking at an empty house: no car out front, door swinging open. That’s the thump-thump-thump I’ve been hearing for the last fifty yards: the wind banging the screen door against the frame . I head up there anyway. Someone was here: there are fresh tire tracks in the dirt, and the smell of wet paint meets me at the porch. The source soon becomes clear: someone’s been fixing up the living room. There’s a pile of old wallpaper discarded in the middle of the room, and someone’s given the wall underneath a fresh coat without sanding it down. It’s the lumpiest, most depressing paint job I’ve ever seen. Even I wouldn’t do that . They’ve started on the kitchen, as well. Looks like

they’ve been trying to fix the plumbing: the cabinet under the sink is open, and there’s a section of pipe on the floor. But that’s not what stands out to me. No—that’d be a phone, Lina’s phone, smashed and abandoned on the table . When I reach for the phone, I spot a knife on the floor, under the table. A knife, but no blood. I kneel for a closer look. There’s rope fibers on and around the blade, like someone tried to cut themselves free. Lina .... It hits me: this is my fault. I was about as subtle as a ten-ton hammer. I could’ve been sneakier, taking control of the phone—didn’t have to rub it in his face. What was I thinking, bragging like an asshole? I know where you are . And now I don’t . Way to go, genius . Or maybe .... A thought occurs to me. If the phone’s not bricked, if it’s just the display, I can still .... I snatch up the phone and barrel out of there at a dead sprint. I’m back at my car, tapping away at my laptop, in record time—who knew I could run a

four-minute mile? Nothing happens when I try to bring up the phone interface. My heart plummets to my boots, but only for a moment. I’m not connected to the Internet. Of course I’m fucking not. No civilization, no wifi. Obviously . Twenty minutes of reckless driving gets me in range of someone’s unsecured connection. Another minute, and—miracle of miracles—I’m in. Lina’s display doesn’t even flicker—that screen is toast— but on my computer, I can see it just fine. And I can see Joe’s last browser activity: he Mapquested some campground, half an hour past the house . I pull a decidedly illegal U-ey, and I’m back in business . It doesn’t occur to me to stop and think about whether this is a good idea. Lina’s out there somewhere, probably cold and scared. I’m going after her. Simple as that .

Chapter Twenty-Two E lina I’m not sure whether this is a good development or a bad one . Joe shook me awake in the dead of night, tossed me back in the trunk without even retying my hands, and now we’re... I don’t even know where. Somehow, he got it into his head Nick could see us, Nick was sending helicopters for us—and his solution was to drag us to a place so run-down, so pathetic it’s probably not even on any map . The good: even he’s got to know this is no place for a four-year-old. As long as we’re here, Joey should be safe . The bad: everything else—oh my God! This place is like something out of a slasher flick. There’s a oneroom cabin with no apparent source of heat, which is where we’re holed up. Then, there’s twin outhouses marked LADIES and GENTS, and a rusted-out trailer on the other side of the clearing. In the summer—some long-ago summer—this place was probably a campground. There’s a corkboard,

long since fallen to the floor, with colorful tags spilling off it. You probably drove up in your RV, came to this cabin, and got one of those tags to prove you’d rented a space. Somewhere nearby, there’ll be a lake or a river for swimming. Probably a barbecue pit . I worked at a place like this in high school, policing up chip bags and beer cans, shoveling lime down the long-drop johns. It was fun. They had a waterfall everyone used for showering, and a nightly hot-dog roast . This, on the other hand, bites the big one. I pull the duvet closer around me. It smells like mold, vomit, and wet paint, just like everything else from that godawful house. And it’s doing jack shit to keep me warm. My teeth are chattering . “We need... We need to build a fire .” “We can’t.” Joe goes to the window. Three out of four panes are cracked or broken . “Seriously, my toes are turning blue. And we’ve been up here for hours. No one’s coming .” “You don’t know that.” He cranes his neck to look at the sky .

“We’d hear it if they were. Come on—untie my feet. I’ll get some water. If we just do a small fire, we can douse it right away if — “ “They have drones now. Totally silent. We need to stay out of sight. Stay away from the windows.” He steps back . I think about telling him a cabin in the woods is easily the worst place to hide if someone’s seriously looking. It’s isolated. It’s obvious. And police helicopters have infrared. Staying out of sight won’t save you if they come looking . Maybe he’ll take me back to the city if I tell him that. We can lose ourselves in the crowd, and then I can lose him . Then again, maybe he’ll cut my throat: one less heat source for the cops to pick up on . I let myself entertain the fantasy that Nick really does know where we are, that he’s on his way, even now. It’s not totally impossible. He could have some...some secret Boy Scout training I don’t know about. He could be following our tracks even now, wending deeper and deeper into the woods. Or he could be here already, skulking outside, waiting for Joe to let down his guard .

Joe pushes his way under the duvet, ruining the fantasy. I force myself not to shrink away as he cuddles close for warmth . “Remember this, Ellie ?” “Hm?” “Last time we came to a place like this .” My head spins. I have literally no idea what he’s talking about. “You mean, when ....” He nods like I’ve actually said something meaningful. “Yeah. When we drove up to Niagara Falls. We stopped at that place with the amazing fries, and that grackle flew off with half of yours .” “And you ate the other half .” “Well, you didn’t want them .” “They were all birdy!” I feel gross reminiscing with him, like this is even a good memory. I want to remind him why we went to the Falls, how it was meant to be his last big adventure, before he started fake chemo. How it cost me most of what I had left, after his fake biopsies and fake radiation already drained my real college fund .

“The Falls were something else, though. Majestic. One of those things that’s gotta be experienced .” I nod. Can’t seem to dredge up anything to say about that . “There were like...five rainbows at once, and you couldn’t even look directly at the water with the sun shining through the mist. Like the whole air was sparkling. Remember what you said ?” I wish I didn’t . “You said, let’s come back here every year. When Junior’s old enough to remember. You got him that Maid of the Mist bear. I still have that. Bet he misses it .” He never played with that stupid thing . “Let’s go back, once this craziness dies down, once we’re all back together .” Over my dead body . “We can finally have that wedding. Junior can carry the rings. We’ll do it on the Canadian side, and stay there after. Where no one’s looking for us .”

I should encourage that. If the shit really does hit the fan, and we all end up on the run, the border cops’ll catch us. They’ll see how scared I am, pull us over, and the nightmare will end. “Canada, eh?” I put on my doofiest Canuck accent. “That’s aboot the best idea I’ve heard all day. Hoser. Loonies. Milk in bags .” Joe laughs. He seems to be relaxing. Maybe he’ll fall asleep. If I can wriggle out from under the duvet without him noticing, maybe he’ll freeze to death. Maybe I’ll freeze to death, too, staggering through the woods with no shoes or coat. He confiscated those after my first escape attempt . Then again, if he dies, I can take his shoes and coat . Maybe I can kill him . Probably not . He’s still droning on about the wedding, how I’ll wear a flower tiara, and Joey’ll have a tiny tux. How we’ll write our own vows, and exchange them under a white rose bower. It’ll just be the two of us, but that’ll be fine, because we don’t need anyone else to be happy . On the grand scale of injustices, this is minor, this is

nothing, but... We planned a wedding together. He has to remember that—it wasn’t that long ago. I wanted family, tradition, everyone I loved in attendance. Candles, not roses. Wedding crowns, not flower tiaras. Dancing and singing for days. The way he’s ignoring all that only serves to bring it home: I’m not real to him. Not even his son is real to him. We’re all just...side-characters in the story of his life. He’s dreaming his dream, by himself. I’m not sure exactly when he stopped pretending to care what I think, but it feels like a long time ago . Outside, something rustles. Joe stiffens against my side. “What was that ?” “Probably a squirrel. Want to shoot it?” Please be Nick. Please be Nick—please be someone! I prick up my ears, but there’s nothing more to hear . “Should’ve brought a gun....” I get the sense he doesn’t mean for squirrels...and I’m incredibly glad he didn’t . “Just ignore it. It’s freezing. I’m freezing.” And maybe it is Nick, scuffling around out there. It did kind of sound like a shoe in the dirt... Or maybe that’s wishful thinking. Either way, keeping Joe distracted isn’t a bad idea. “What about—what about after the wedding? The honeymoon? Would that be in Canada too ?”

He shoots me a suspicious look, but the bait’s too good. “Niagara-on-the-Lake. It’s like...Canadian wine country. We can get our own little place on the edge of town. Start a peach orchard .” Acres of peach trees in Canadian wine country. Yeah. That sounds affordable. “Sounds like heaven,” I murmur. I can’t keep the disgust off my face as I rest my head on his shoulder. Doesn’t matter. He can’t see from this angle . “It’ll be great,” he says. I can’t see his face, either, but I know the expression that goes with this tone of voice: dreamy, distant, enraptured. Back when I was eighteen, it made me weak in the knees. Thought he was some kind of sensitive soul. Especially when he got going on one of his speeches—Joe could make anything sound good. But now I’m tuning him out, straining my ears for the slightest indication we’re not alone . The woods are never silent. I used to be pretty good at distinguishing ambient sounds from human sounds, but it’s been a while. And I’m a city girl at heart. That scrape—that might’ve been Nick peering in the back window, or a low-hanging branch grazing the roof. And that tiny patter—a boot scattering pebbles? Or a mouse tripping across the stoop ?

I need to get the rope off my ankles. If there is someone out there, I want to be ready to make a break for it . “Quit wiggling .” Shit. Can’t move my arms with him battened onto me like a moth on a tree trunk. Got to get rid of him, at least for a minute . I cough. “Could you—could you at least get us some water ?” “Didn’t bring any .” Seriously? “Then you need to find some before dark. There’s got to be a stream or something—I think I can even hear it.” There is kind of a rushing sound, off to the east . “Can you even drink stream water? Without getting sick ?” “You can if you boil it .” “We’re not building a — “ “We have to. At least when it gets dark. Or we’ll freeze to death. Nobody’s going to come out here at night, anyway .”

“I said no fire! ” He surges to his feet. For a second, I’m convinced he’s going to kick me. I scuttle backward till my ass hits the wall. “What the hell’s the matter with you? I’m just going to check the car. I think there’s some Gatorade in the back .” “Sorry....” He storms off. That wasn’t elegant, but at least I got what I wanted. He left the car half a mile away, under the canopy of what was once a picnic area. Hidden from any inquisitive drones, I guess. That’s got to buy me at least fifteen, twenty minutes . The second the door slams, I’m picking at the knots: slow and steady, no panicked scrabbling this time. By the time he comes back, I want to be sitting here with the rope wrapped around my ankles, in case he checks—but tied to nothing but itself .

Chapter Twenty-Three N ick This place sucks . I thought the woods around the farmhouse were bad, but out here, this is a whole other beast. Even the road’s full of lumps and potholes, and there’s been a stone in my shoe for the last quarter-mile that will...not...shake...out. Must’ve got under the insole . I haven’t even been walking that long. Got out of the car when I saw the “Camp W—k-nd-r” sign, not knowing where they’d be hiding, but this place is bigger than I thought. Bigger and emptier. So far, I’ve passed a tumbledown snax stand, a basketball court with two decent-sized trees erupting from the tarmac, a sign marked “SWIMM—G H—E,” and what’s got to be Joe’s car, cleverly concealed under one of those depressing covered picnic areas. The roof’s collapsed on one side, and most of the picnic tables are in the ditch. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in years . Worst of all, it’s getting dark. I wasn’t sure at first:

the canopy’s pretty thick here, even in winter. But, no. The sky was more of a...more of a gull wing gray, half an hour ago. Now I’d call it gun gray. With a hint of blue. Like an old lady’s hair . There’s something up ahead, though. The road’s been widening out for a while, and there’s a clearing, with a trailer and a cabin. And the creepy skeleton of a swing set. The chains are still hanging there, but the seats are gone . They’ve got to be here: the trail doesn’t go on past the clearing. I veer off into the trees. There’s a layer of wet, rotten leaves underfoot—eugh. I don’t remember it raining recently. Maybe it never gets properly dry here, with the canopy keeping the sun off the earth . I squidge around the edge of the clearing till I reach the trailer. There aren’t any lights on inside, but I sidle up anyway. Most of the windows are missing, the curtains hanging in water-stained shreds. I steel myself—if they’re in there, and he happens to be looking up just as I look in, there won’t be much I can do about that. But I don’t hear anything. Maybe they’re asleep . I edge up to the nearest window, peering through at the most oblique angle possible. My precautions are wasted: there’s nothing inside. Somebody’s stripped

this thing to the bones. Even the floor’s rusted through . Got to be the cabin, then. If not there .... If not there, I’m out of ideas . They’re there. She’s there. I can feel it. I fade back into the woods, and now it’s really getting dark. Sun sets fast this time of year. It wouldn’t take much to get lost out here, hopelessly turned around. I keep my eyes fixed on the cabin, now little more than a black heap in the gathering dusk. What are we even going to do, if she’s there? Run into the pitch-black forest and hope we don’t break our necks ? We’ll stick to the road. We’ll be fine . Assuming we can deal with Joe—that’s another thing. I didn’t even think to bring a crowbar, or a decent-sized stick . The swing set’s between me and the cabin. The chains are swaying in the wind—so, not totally rusted stiff. They’re just hooked on—if I could lift one off without rattling it .... Yeah. That’s what I’ve got to do. Can’t go in empty-handed .

My heart’s in my mouth as I stalk toward the swing set. I’m totally exposed. If Joe chooses this moment to open the door or peer out the window, even the dark won’t save me. Something my first-grade teacher used to say pops into my mind: quickly, quietly, and neatly! He said it every time he gave us something to do: and how do we practice our letters? Quickly, quietly, and neatly . All right, Mr. Adams. This one’s for you. I suck in a deep breath and hold it, keep it held as I shimmy up the pole. From here, I can just reach the nearest chain . The wind picks up a little, sighing in the trees. Now or never: this’ll be my best chance, with the rustling of the forest to cover any sound I might make . I let out that breath and lean out into the void. I’m spread out against the last light of day, hanging off the top of the swing set like a demented ape. This is as bad as it gets. I won’t be able to pull myself back once I get that chain in my hand. I’ll have to drop down with it, hope the thump doesn’t carry . Metal scrapes on metal as I ease the chain off its hook. I almost let go of it, but I remind myself it can’t be as loud as it sounds in my head. No one’ll hear. Quickly, quietly, and neatly. I roll the chain all the way off the hook, and drop .

My shoes thud and scrape in the dirt: clumsy landing . The chain crumples at my feet. The jingling’s deafening—this was a terrible idea. Katie probably heard it back in Manhattan . No time to think: I scoop the chain into my arms, stretched out to keep it from rattling. Four giant bounds take me back to the treeline. I dart behind...something green and prickly? A Christmas tree? Going to call it a fir. I dart behind a fir and wait . Nothing happens. They’re not here—they can’t be. If they were... If they were, wouldn’t they have a light on? Or a fire? It’s cold as hell—of course they would. And someone would’ve come out when I went crashing into the dirt. A cold feeling settles around my heart. What if Joe figured I’d check his browser history and sent me on a wild goose chase? He could’ve dragged her off in the opposite direction, or anywhere, really . Still, I have to at least check. I take my time looping one end of the chain around my knuckles, and the other over my arm. Maybe Joe is there, and he did see me, and now he’s loading his gun, setting his sights, waiting for me to venture into the clearing .

I loop all the way around, shuffling my feet to keep from stepping on anything that crackles or snaps. It’s close to full dark by the time I make it. The cabin’s a vague crouching hulk looming over me. And just my luck: when I press my face to the back window, it’s too dirty to see through. Which leaves the front. The front, where I’ve ninety-nine percent convinced myself Joe’s cozied up to the window, double-barreled shotgun poking out of it. Ready to blow me away . I’m not sure “Well, I’ve come this far!” really covers this type of situation . But... I have come this far . I feel like James Bond, sliding around the cabin with my back pressed to the wall, chained fist cocked. Would it even be safe to punch someone with that? Obviously it wouldn’t be safe for them, but I mean—for me? Would I break all my knuckles? Maybe I should use the other end, wield it like a whip . It occurs to me I haven’t been in a fistfight since junior high. And I didn’t win then . Too late: there’s the window. I can’t see any gun poking out, but maybe it’s inside .

I flatten myself to the wall and ease forward, squinting into the dark . Nobody’s there. Probably...maybe... Nobody’s there. I can’t see anything, but .... I inch closer . No one’s in the window, but someone’s in the cabin. I can hear breathing that isn’t mine: heavy, labored breathing. Sleeping breathing, almost a snore . I’ve been tiptoeing around like an asshole, and Joe’s... Yup. A glance in the window confirms it. There’s a pale, whitish lump in one corner, which resolves into two figures huddled under a duvet. One’s Joe, and he’s asleep, head thrown back, mouth open wide. The other’s Lina. And she’s looking right at me .

Chapter Twenty-Four E lina A quick pinch to my forearm confirms it: I’m not dreaming or hallucinating . He came—he really came . Nick beckons me from the window— c’mere ! I check on Joe. He looks like he’s out for the count. But how sure can I be? I reach for the rope at my ankles, completely loose now, and he stirs and groans . Nick frowns and holds up a finger: wait . Nervous energy sings through me. I want to hurtle into the night and never look back. But I’m not sure I could outrun Joe at the best of times, let alone barefoot over dirt and gravel. I shoot Nick a hard look: hope you have a plan . He doesn’t look like he has a plan. He’s just standing there, looking from me to Joe and back again. Well, if he doesn’t, maybe I do. I’ve had all day to think about it. I ease my arms out from

under the duvet. When I’m sure Nick’s focusing on my hands, I point at the back window. He glances over there, and back at me. I make a mushroom cloud sign, both hands springing apart like a bomb’s gone off between them . Nick shakes his head . I repeat the mime: Come on! What’s so hard? Go out back; make a noise! Distract the fuck out of him ! He shakes his head again, and draws his finger across his throat. That’s pretty clear: he thinks Joe might hurt me if he thinks we aren’t alone. Honestly, I’m not sure he won’t. I shrug: Out of ideas, then ! Nick makes a circle with his thumb and forefinger and ducks out of sight. I hear sneaky footsteps mincing away from the cabin, then sprinting ones plunging into the woods. He can’t be... He wouldn’t just leave me here... Would he ? No. He made the okay sign. That means... That has to mean .... I just have to sit tight. He’s coming back. He’s probably... He’s got to be.... What ?

Fuck. I can’t think. I haven’t slept since Joe snatched me. I’m half out of my mind worrying about Mama and Vanya, what they’ve told little Joe —if I’ll see him again, and under what circumstances. It’s too much. I can’t... I can’t hold all that and try to guess at whatever half-baked plan Nick might be cooking up . No. That’s not fair. It could be a fully-baked plan. Everything that can go wrong already has. It’s about time something went right, and Nick hasn’t let me down yet . I hold onto that thought for dear life as the last of the daylight fades away, leaving me in the kind of pitch dark that doesn’t exist in the city. I can’t even pick up the faint aura of light pollution in the distance, with all those trees in the way. Hell, I can’t even make out the trees, or the wall, or my hand in front of my face. It’s not long, or it doesn’t feel like long, before I lose all sense of time . A dumb thought occurs to me: this must be what it’s like to be a hamster in the final moments of its life. I read somewhere that hamsters have no sense of past or future, only their current reality. So a happy hamster’s always been happy; a dying hamster’s been dying forever; can’t conceive of a future where it’s free of its final agony .

How long have I been sitting in the dark ? Can that hamster thing even be true? I had one as a kid. It seemed to remember me from day to day. But... Is hanging onto a spark of familiarity the same thing as grasping the passage of time ? What am I even thinking about ? I ball my hands into fists under the duvet. The sharp sensation of nails biting into skin cuts through my racing thoughts. I’m...scared. Just scared. Not losing my mind. Not floating outside of time. And... And I can actually hear something, a distant purr that wasn’t there before . A car! It’s got to be a car. Nick is coming back, and of course I never doubted it. The hum of the engine, the dull crunch of gravel, fills my ears. But Joe doesn’t stir, not even when Nick’s lowbeams spill over the rise. The sound must’ve risen gradually enough that it simply never registered. Even I’m not sure when it began . Nick rolls to a stop in the center of the clearing, but doesn’t kill the engine. I hold my breath when the door clunks open, as if I could somehow cancel out the noise by being extra-quiet on my end. Joe groans and shifts against me. Fuck...fuckfuckfuck ....

Stop walking, stop moving, stop taking steps ! If Nick’s footfalls don’t give us away, the pounding of my heart surely will. If Joe can’t hear that, he must be able to feel it. He must — He grips my arm hard, just above the elbow. I gasp so violently I choke on my own spit. The resulting coughing fit might’ve been a good distraction if Joe gave a shit about me, but if I didn’t know it before, the past thirty-odd hours have proven he doesn’t . Instead of patting me on the back, he claps his hand over my mouth. “Shut up. Someone’s here .” I wheeze helplessly into his hand. His blunt fingers dig into my cheeks. My eyes water . “Whoever it is... You’re gonna act annoyed to see them. Tell ‘em we’re camping. Anything else out of your mouth, and you won’t like what happens .” I wriggle my feet. The last loop of rope falls from my ankles. This is it. If Joe thinks I’m sitting still for this, he can think again . A shadow passes over the window. The ancient porch creaks. Nick’s right on the other side of that door. I almost ruin everything with a crazed laugh, as another silly thought crosses my mind: Tie me up

all you want; I serve only one cruel master . And then the door flies open. Nick’s a hulking silhouette in the arc of his lowbeams, looming over us with some kind of...medieval weapon? No—just a chain. He’s swinging one end, and the other’s wrapped round his fist. If I didn’t know him, I’d be terrified. Hope Joe feels the same, because this is my chance, and it’s going to go a whole lot smoother if Joe’s frozen with fear. Or at least startled into temporary inaction . I throw off the duvet and bolt for the door. Or at least, that’s the idea. Two steps in, a cramp hits, right in my calf. My knees buckle, and I hit the floor hard. I kneel there, stunned, palms stinging from smacking into the floorboards. By some miracle, no hand shoots out to grasp my ankle, no heavy foot comes down on my back. Joe’s cursing behind me, thrashing around. Must be tangled in the covers . Nick drops one end of the chain and reaches for me. I grab for his hand like a lifeline, and he tugs me to my feet. I stagger for a moment, careening into his chest. The cramp finally loosens. I nod at Nick, and we race into the night hand in hand . Joe thunders after us. Nick’s parked close, and we’ve got a decent head start...but not decent

enough. Something hits me on the back of the thigh, sending white-hot pain deep into the meat of my leg. For a moment, I think I’ve been shot; it feels like a bullet. But Joe wasn’t armed. A rock—he must’ve thrown a rock. I stumble again. Nick’s hand’s torn from mine as pain blooms again, tearing up the back of my scalp, wrenching my neck, as Joe yanks me back by my hair . “Fuck! Let go!” I elbow him in the gut, and when he just tugs me closer, I throw my head back hard. There’s a crunch as my skull connects with his nose. First blood to me, I guess, unless that rock broke my skin . “Lina!” Nick’s circling back, now, with the chain stretched between his hands like he’s planning to garrote someone with it . I writhe in Joe’s grasp. He twists his hand in my hair, yanking my head back till I’m forced to my tiptoes. “Ah—stop!” I stamp where I think his foot is. All I get for my pains is a sharp pebble to my heel. I stumble again, tearing what feels like a good chunk of my hair out at the roots . The car’s so close. So goddamn close. Ten running steps, and I could be curled up in the passenger seat, with a locked door between me and Joe. All I need to do is break free .

Somewhere behind us, the chain rattles softly. That’s all the warning I get before Joe whips me around to face Nick. I register Nick’s look of horror, then a sharp line of agony across my waist as the chain whips me a good one. My only consolation is Joe’s distressed shout: it must’ve wrapped all the way around. I grin through gritted teeth: Use me as a human shield, will you? That’s what you get ! “I’m fine,” I gasp. I start to struggle and fight in earnest: the more of a handful I can make myself, the harder it should be for Joe to keep me between himself and Nick. I feel like bees are stinging my scalp, and all the way down my neck, but the pain only pisses me off. I thrash my head from side to side, throw elbow after elbow, till Joe pushes me down in the dirt. I land badly, scraping the skin off my palms, tearing the knees out of my pants, but I couldn’t care less. I’m scrambling for the car before I’m even on my feet, crawling till I get my legs under me . Behind me, I hear Nick and Joe come together in a clash of fists and yelling. Can’t tell who’s punching whom, what happened to the chain, but — “Fuck! You bit me!” Nick’s outrage would be comical in any other situation. Right now, not so much .

I tune them out—concentrate. Got to concentrate . Nick’s left the keys in the ignition. I grab them and hit the trunk release. Got to be something in there I can use—a crowbar, a bag of oranges; shit, I don’t care! Anything I can hit him with, anything—oh, for fuck’s sake ! This—this situation, right here—is why you don’t use your car as a garbage can . If we get out of this alive, I’m cleaning it for him. He’s got half his life back here: the child seat, a fire blanket, two crates of bottles and cans—bet he set out to recycle those months ago. There’s a math book Katie’s probably looking for, a jar of artichoke hearts, and there, half-hidden under a pile of glittery kid drawings, a road flare kit . Now, that has potential . I hear someone scream in anguish, a sound so strangled I can’t tell whether it came from Joe or Nick. One of them must’ve got the other between the legs. Or at least, I hope that’s all it was . Concentrate. I’ve never used a flare before. Not even sure how

they work. There’s instructions on the inside of the box, but I can’t make head nor tail of them in my state of panic. Remove plastic lid; twist off cap, but do not discard— there’s a lid and a cap? I stare stupidly at the flare. It’s too dark to see. I’ll just have to — I hear running footsteps, and a hard thump . I glance up to see Nick with his face in the dirt, Joe’s arms wrapped around his legs. He must’ve tried to run. Nick rolls over and reaches for something just outside the headlights’ glow. But Joe’s grabbing for something too, and fuck, not good—what’s a rock that size even doing in the middle of the clearing ? I yank at the end of the flare. Something pops off— got to be the lid. So the cap has to be.... I twist, and fuck, fuck... It’s stuck! I can’t — There’s a sharp yelp of alarm, and something slams into the dirt. I glance up: Joe’s hunched over Nick, whose head is canted sharply to the side. Good thing it is, or that rock would’ve cracked his skull like an egg . I grip the flare between my knees and twist hard. This time, the cap comes off. What’s next? —Gently strike the flare with the scratch surface of the cap .

So...like lighting a match ? By some miracle, the flare whooshes to life on the first attempt. I run back around the car. “Hey! Asshole! Over here !” Joe freezes with the rock above his head. I whip the flare at him with all my strength. He drops the rock —not on Nick, by some mercy—and throws up his arms to protect his face. The flare hits him square in the chest. He shrieks, hitting a high, inhuman note. Nick bucks him off. I watch just long enough to make sure he’s getting away, and dive into the car. Nick joins me a second later, breathing hard. He’s got the beginnings of a spectacular black eye, and there’s a bloodstain spreading on his sleeve, but he doesn’t look badly hurt . “You all right ?” Nick nods, still catching his breath. “You ?” “I...think so?” Going to be bruised all to hell tomorrow, and I could easily sleep for a week, but nothing feels bloody or broken. I buckle my seat belt . “Should we — “ “Wait—hold on.” Shit. I can’t see Joe any more.

“Where’d he go? Is he—?” We can’t just leave him here, if he’s hurt, or blinded, or — Something slams against the passenger-side window. We both scream. Joe’s right there, bashing his shoulder into the window, like he thinks he can break it. And maybe he can; maybe this nightmare will never end . “Fuck! How the hell’s he still standing?“ Nick slams the car into reverse. My stomach drops as he accelerates into a grit-spraying U-turn. Moments later, Joe’s dwindling in the rearview mirror . Nick glances at me. “We’ll send the cops after him, yeah? I don’t think... Do you want to go back for him ?” Hell, no, I don’t. I shake my head. The adrenaline’s wearing off, and I feel like a huge blob of jelly. “His car—his car’s still — “ “Don’t worry. I let the air out of his tires .” He really did have a plan. A well-baked one . I let my head loll back against the seat. I can actually feel the tension leaving my body. My legs start to tremble. My hands let go of fists I didn’t know I was making. I’m suddenly thirsty, and

hungry, and kind of sick at the same time. So many ways that could’ve gone south—if Joe’d had better aim with that rock, if I’d hit the wrong man with the flare—a nightmare vision pops into my head, Nick clawing at his eyes as wax from the flare runs down his cheeks like tears .... “I could’ve hit you with that thing.” I’m tearing up now, myself. My whole face feels hot . Nick drops a hand on my thigh. The warm weight’s reassuring. “Hey. It’s all right. It’s over. This was his fault, and a little bit mine, and... You didn’t do anything wrong. Not a thing. You were amazing .” I don’t feel amazing. I feel stupid and small—I acted out of panic, probably came within a hair of at least disfiguring either Nick or Joe . “We’re safe. Everything’s fine. Nothing else matters .” It’s too much: fat tears spill over and race each other down my cheeks. I choke back a sob. Don’t want to fall apart in front of Nick—in front of anyone, but especially Nick. But I’m so tired. I can feel it in my bones, an exhaustion so deep I’m tingling with it, like static under my skin. I’m all out of fight. Even closing my eyes doesn’t slow the tears .

“Joey’s with your parents,” says Nick. “You’ll be with him soon .” That only makes me cry harder. Can’t even talk around the lump in my throat . “Shit, I... You have no idea how much I want to hold you right now, but ....” I manage a nod. Holding Nick’s hand while he’s driving seems like a bad idea, but I slide mine beside his, so our pinkies touch . “We’ll get you home, get a doctor over to look at you, just make sure—did he give you water? Are you dehydrated? ‘Cause I think I’ve got water somewhere, maybe in the trunk ?“ “He... We had blue Gatorade.” I sniffle and wipe at my eyes. This is embarrassing . “Do you want to go home, or straight to your mom’s? I can call ahead, get some food brought over, if you... Or maybe you have something?” He’s kind of babbling. He must be as freaked out as I am, or close enough. That actually helps a little . “Home. Don’t want Joey to see me all...however I must look right now .”

“Okay. Home it is. Home, sweet home. Or maybe —how about my place? I just realized, I left Katie ....” I swallow hard, blink back the last of my tears. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good, just... Don’t want to freak her out either .” “She’ll be in her room. Way she cranks her music, she won’t even hear us come in .” Okay. Okay. That sounds good. Not the way I’d have wanted to see Nick’s place for the first time, but knowing Joe’s been in mine, leaving dead rats, doing...things... I’m not sure I ever want to go there again. And the bed has to go. Fumigating the sheets couldn’t begin to clear the contamination . Nick calls the cops the minute he gets a signal. When they pass us on the highway, going the other way, I feel like I could melt into my seat. It’s over, really over, or as close as it’s going to get, before that jailhouse door clangs shut on my past . I cover a yawn with my hand. I’ve reached that stage of weariness where everything’s all soft and floaty around the edges. Feels like... Feels like sinking into a warm, fuzzy beanbag chair . That makes me laugh, or maybe I only imagine

myself laughing, because Nick doesn’t react, and the streetlights are all running together, and next thing I know, I’m waking up in Manhattan. Somebody’s honking at us, and I really do laugh at that. Nothing’s changed. I just took a vacation in hell, but back here... It’s like I never left . I like that idea—the thought of sliding back into my usual routine, letting the last couple of days fade away like an old bruise. Hearing my parents’ excited voices on Nick’s phone’s even better. Joey’s already in bed, but he’s fine, he’s happy; he thinks I’ve been stuck at work all this time. He’s been having a grand old time with the grandparents. He’s turned their whole living room into a blanket fort . I’ll see him tomorrow, and soon... Soon, it’ll be like nothing happened . Or at least nothing bad . If nothing else, this disaster has clarified my feelings for Nick. I’m falling for him, and hard .

Chapter Twenty-Five N ick Sunrise over Manhattan’s never looked so good. We’re sitting out in the solarium, under the ferns and ivy, eating a breakfast of deviled eggs—Katie’s idea. At least the whole oatmeal phase is a thing of the past. No matter how comforting everyone says it is, no matter how much cinnamon’s mixed in, to me, oatmeal will never look like anything but hot barf. And it doesn’t taste much better . “So? How did you get that bruise?” Katie seems more curious than scared. Still, this is one case where I’ll definitely be stretching the truth . “Kind of a...dark forest, low-hanging branch situation .” “Is that true?” She’s looking at Lina . Lina stirs some sugar into her coffee. “Mm-hm. Your dad came striding out of that forest like a wild man. Head-to-toe pine needles. Just the sight of him was enough to scare that evil ex into submission.” She winks .

We’ve decided to go with a version of the truth for Katie. She’s old enough to watch the news, old enough to bust us on an outright lie. But she doesn’t have to know the gory details . She seems to buy it, at least for now. “I’m glad you’re back,” she says. “Dad was going nuts when you were missing .” “I missed him too.” Lina smiles at me over her coffee cup. I feel the tips of my ears going red . I clear my throat. “So, uh, Katie... What’ve you got planned for today ?” “Painting your windows, duh . ” My... Oh, right. Totally spaced on the window displays. “Sorry. Forgot it was Saturday. You and Cindy need a ride ?” “No. Her mom’s sending a car after breakfast. We’ll be back in time for dinner .” “Wait—you don’t have anyone going with you ?” Katie opens her mouth. I can feel another duh hovering in the air . I head her off at the pass. “Any adult, I mean .”

“The driver’ll wait .” That is so not my idea of adult supervision . “Why don’t we go with you?” Lina glances at me, then back to Katie. “We could pick up Joey, make a little party of it. Don’t worry—he’s pretty artistic .” Katie looks pensive, and I’m positive she’s about to protest, but she surprises me. “We could do, like, a fingerpainting thing, and a stick-figure Santa, so it kind of looks like kid art. And write ‘Merry Christmas’ with backward Rs.” She grins. “I wanted to show Joey to Cindy, anyway. She doesn’t believe he’s cuter than Sharon’s little brother, and he totally is .” Joey’s clingy when we pick him up. Not just with Lina, but with me and Katie, even Cindy. He goes around collecting hugs from everyone. It’s a little heartbreaking. After what happened with his dad, losing his mom would have to be his worst nightmare. Still, he perks up like a champ when the girls start setting up their paints, and soon, all three of them are happily daubing away . Lina wants to help out, as we’re there anyway. The two of us end up behind the counter. I show her how our registration and inventory systems work, how we decide who gets what. She seems genuinely

impressed, and I can’t help but puff up a little: I designed both systems myself . The stream of customers slows to a trickle around two. Mid-afternoon’s always a dead spot. In the window, the kids are putting the finishing touches on their masterpiece. I’ve got to admit it looks pretty good . Lina turns to me in the quiet. “So... I have kind of a favor to ask .” “You want me to go with you?” To the cop shop, I mean—she gave a statement last night, but they wanted to go over it again once she’d had a chance to rest . “No, I... Mama’s meeting me there; that’ll be fine. It’s just, if it’s not too much bother... I think Joey’s a little scared. He doesn’t know why his daddy’s not around, and I think he thought the same thing was happening all over again. I don’t feel right leaving him with a babysitter so soon .” “Oh, sure! Yeah. We’d love to have him. He have any food allergies, or anything he hates ?” “Just Brussels sprouts. Hates them, I mean. Not an allergy .”

“Think I can just about swing a sprout-free dinner.” This is an opportunity: I have a feeling Lina doesn’t want to go home, doesn’t feel safe there after what happened. If she has to come back to my place anyway, it shouldn’t be too hard to persuade her to stay. I don’t want to be away from her any more than Joe does. I fish for the right words. “Uh, I was thinking, it’ll probably be pretty late, by the time you come back for Joey. Why don’t you bring his pajamas? We can have a little sleepover .” The relief that floods her face tells me I guessed right. “That’d be... That’d be amazing. I’m still pretty tired, and honestly, not knowing how youknow-who was getting in and out of my apartment, I’m still pretty creeped out.” She shudders. “I mean, his bail hearing hasn’t even been set yet, but part of me still thinks... Ugh .” “You should stay for a while, then. At least till you can get bars put on the windows, new locks on the doors.” My heart’s pounding—maybe I’m pushing it a tad far. Don’t want her thinking I’m the stalker type . “I... Well, I mean, I don’t want to put you out. And the commute would be kind of a bitch, but....” She tilts her head back, grinning. “Oh, God, yes please. I’ve been dreading...just, the whole idea of going back there.... My skin’s been crawling all day. And

I—I don’t even have anywhere to sleep. He said he, uh...he—did something. In my bed.” She’s gone scarlet, red as a beet. I think I get the picture . “Eugh. Well, I assure you, every sheet at my place is freshly laundered, and, uh, free of any scummy history.” Got to admit, I have done the thing she’s talking about, in my own bed, but not recently. Not since the sheets were changed. I look away so she can’t see me looking guilty and think...something weird . Joey comes running up. “We’re putting all our handprints on the window! You guys wanna put yours ?” Lina and I exchange glances . “Lead the way,” I say . We add our prints to the end of the line, hers in bright red, mine neon green. Even with Cindy’s prints in the mix, it feels a lot like a family thing. Lina feels warm and alive, pressed against me in the cramped display. I plant an impulsive kiss on her cheek. Katie captures the moment on her phone. Think I’ll have her send me a copy of that: this is a moment I won’t want to forget .

Chapter Twenty-Six E lina There’s no feeling quite so luxurious as that slow swim to wakefulness, when there’s no alarm clock to bray in your ear, no four-year-old to use you as a trampoline, no honking rising up from the road below. I stretch and sigh—not yet. Not yet. Five minutes, and I’ll abandon my cocoon. But for now — Someone’s tickling my foot. I jerk it up under the duvet. Clever fingers follow, clinging to my sole, even when I try to scrape them off with my other foot . C’mon—five more minutes! Don’t fuck up my morning glow, I protest. At least, in my head I do. In the real world, it comes out more like “Mmph...off !” It’s so nice in here, soft as a pile of kittens and just as cuddly. Even the faint sharpness of Nick’s aftershave on the pillow can’t spoil the effect. But this tickling—this is cruel and unusual punishment. Doesn’t he know there’s a chilly hardwood floor

out there, and...and...fine. It’s actually not that bad. But still, can’t a girl — Nick whips the covers off. I gasp. His bedroom’s not cold, but anything’d be a shock after the perfect comfort of the duvet . “Oh, you suck ! ” He grins down at me, unrepentant. “Y’know, for someone whose alarm wakes me up at five-thirty most mornings, you’re surprisingly lazy.” He tosses my dressing gown over me. As a blanket, it’s a pretty shoddy substitute . “Mm... You only used to sleep till six .” “That extra half hour, though, that’s when the magic happens. You know how I know ?” “How do you know ?” “’Cause I always wake up at the exact moment my dream gets to the best part.” He hops into bed and drapes himself over my back. “Therefore, six o’clock in the morning’s definitively, scientifically , the best time to wake up .” I tilt my head. “Wait—if you’re waking up right as your dream gets to the best part, wouldn’t that

make the best time to get up like, I don’t know, sixoh-five? So you can actually have the best moment ?” He shakes his head. His morning stubble scratches the back of my neck. “Nope. You never want to live the best moment. Or dream it. You always gotta keep the best moment of your life somewhere ahead of you. Something to look forward to .” I smile. Nick has the best way of looking at life. Or the best excuses for lousing up my cozy nest . I never did go home after what we’ve come to refer to as The Incident. Nick swung by and filled a couple of suitcases with Joey’s clothes and mine, and I’ve dropped Joey off a few times for playdates with Emin, but I haven’t crossed that threshold again. And with each passing day, I’m less sure I ever will. This place is cluttered, and too far from work, but it’s got Nick: a huge advantage in my book . I lean back into his embrace. He’s sporting quite an impressive erection, and his hands are doing some magical things to my body. But I’ve already slept late. We don’t have time. “Mm... I’d better get up. Feed the kids .” “Already fed. And bathed. And dressed.” He drags

the edge of one fingernail along my inner thigh, just hard enough to leave a faint red line, and set my nerve endings alight . “You’re not even shaved !” “Mm, designer stubble’s making a comeback.” He buries his prickly face in the crook of my neck. His rough chin scrapes my skin as he peppers me with tiny nips and kisses. His breath’s warm and a little tickly; his lips soothe my beard-reddened skin. My will to resist is eroding . “The car ?” “Cleaned it out last night.” He’s teasing me through my panties, firm enough to send tingling shocks of pleasure all the way to my toes, light enough to drive me crazy. Can’t concentrate with that going on . “The...the, uh...the eggnog for tonight ?” Nick takes advantage of my open mouth to slip a couple of fingers into it. I lick at them instinctively, and feel his cock rise to full attention against my back. “Eggnog, nutmeg, parking, trees... All taken care of.” I feel his lips stretch into a grin. “Every...little...detail....” He flicks my nipple after every word. “So stop worrying.” Flick. “And

relax.” Flick. “And....” He flips me onto my back, so suddenly my head spins. I can’t help but arch into it as he grinds his body against mine. He feels so good naked, all hard planes and lean muscle . “You... You win !” Nick looks down at me with a twinkle in his eye. “I should make you crawl to me on your knees for your lack of faith.” He yanks my nightie up over my head and twists it tight around my wrists . “And what would you have me do when I got to you ?” “First, I’d make merciless use of that sweet, tender mouth....” He pauses for a kiss, which deepens into another. Soon, my legs are wrapped around him, not an inch of space between us. When he draws back, he sounds as breathless as I feel. “Then I’d turn you to face the mirror, and I’d come up behind you, and take you apart with my lips and my fingers and my cock .” “Mm, that sounds — “ He silences me with a finger to my lips. “I’m not finished.” The stern note in his voice, combined with the way he punctuates every sentence with a kiss, a caress, a pinch, has me melting in his arms.

“I’d take my time. Hours and hours, if I had to. Make you watch every second of it.” He twists his fingers into my hair, eyes locked with mine. “Every time you closed your eyes, every time you looked away, I’d punish you with a slap.” His free hand claps down on my inner thigh, just where he knows I’m most sensitive. “Or a pinch.” That same hand snakes between my legs and pinches me just above the clit, sending a shock of pleasure through me, so intense it borders on pain. “Or a bite.” His teeth tug at my earlobe, worrying at my earring . “Mmm....” “I’d keep going till you could see yourself through my eyes—how beautiful you are like this. How hot you are when you give yourself over.” He tugs my panties down hard. “Mm—see? You’re blushing. That’s exactly what I’d train out of you. Any hint of shame, of embarrassment ....” Got to correct him on that one. “That’s... That’s what you might call a flush of arousal .” “Oh yeah?” He leans over me to grab a condom. I take the opportunity to risk a naughty bite to his bicep. His answering growl stokes the fire in my belly . “Yeah,” I tell him. It’s true: even when we test the

limits together, I rarely feel so much as a flutter of self-consciousness any more. “I might still need that lesson, though. Just to be sure .” “First time we’ve both got a free evening. Or morning. Or afternoon,” he promises. “Can’t wait to have you at my mercy...begging...trembling...calling me master.” He rolls the condom on in one practiced stroke. “Ready ?” “Starved for it .” I bite my lip as he thrusts into me. No matter how many times we do this, I always see stars when he buries his cock in me. He’s thick, wellproportioned; those first few seconds ride that line between perfect excess and far too much . I hold my breath till he starts to ride me in earnest, feeling myself slowly adjust to his girth. That blinding sense of fullness gives way to a hot tide of lust. I clutch at thin air, sink my teeth into his shoulder, anything to keep quiet . In the end, it’s no use. Nick has to stifle my scream with his hand when he brings me over the edge once, then twice, with barely time to catch my breath between. He’s hardly quiet himself, collapsing on top of me with a deep and heartfelt groan .

“Y’know,” he says, when he finally rolls off me, “the best way to tell you’ve got something special? Even the quickies are memorable .” “Mm....” I wriggle free of my nightie and reach for the duvet, pulling it over us both. “Could use another nap, after that .” “Oh, no! No, you don’t!” Nick’s up in an instant, wrestling the covers away. “I did that to get you going, not send you back into hibernation.” He grabs my nightie and starts snapping it at me like a towel. What does he think this is, a locker room? “C’mon! C’mon! Lots to do! I lied about cleaning the car !” “You didn’t! ” Fucking jerk! I snatch the nightie back and whip his chest with it . “Nah, I didn’t. Car’s good to go. But we do need to shake a leg .” He’s right. I can’t believe he actually went through with it, but he did—that Christmas banquet we talked about at the museum, it’s really happening. And it’s happening tonight. The response was far more enthusiastic than either of us could’ve anticipated. We’re expecting hundreds of old folks and families and kids, spread across six different parties. And we’ll be putting in an appearance at

every single one . Joey and Katie are loving it, of course: six parties means they each get to open six presents—and it’s a good thing the cops finally released his original gifts from evidence. Without those, and a couple of extras from Nick and Katie, I’d barely have had enough left for his actual Christmas . Not, I suppose, that Nick would’ve let that happen. He’s great with Joey. Treats him like his own . I pull Nick in for one last lingering kiss . “What was that for ?” “Strength... We’re going to need it .” “For you, I’m the Incredible Hulk.” He strikes a goofy flexing pose . “Yeah—big, green, and angry. Just my type.” I flick him with my nightie one more time, then I’m up. The chill of the hardwood floor barely registers through my post-orgasm high. Still, I’m so sneaking a rug in here, one of these days . The rest of the day goes by in a pleasant whirl. It’s funny: though we planned all six parties the same, each one’s got its own character. The first one’s

sweet and mellow, a lot of caroling and eggnog by the fire. The next one seems to have caught disco fever: we get sucked into an over-sixties conga line the second we walk in the door. By the time we escape, we’re breathless and giggling, high on eggnog and endorphins . It’s the last one that reminds me the most of our old neighborhood parties, probably because it’s getting late, and things are a little raucous. The younger kids are mostly crashed out on the various couches and beanbag chairs we brought in for the occasion. The older ones are playing with their presents, and the adults have gravitated into little knots and gaggles. The ebb and flow of animated conversation’s all around us. Every now and then, a wave of laughter sweeps the room. There’s even a couple of graybeards in the corner passing a flask back and forth, which I’m pretty sure doesn’t contain non-alcoholic eggnog. Yep. Just like the old days . Nick pulls me into a huge beanbag with him. “This was a great idea,” he says . I rest my head on his shoulder. “Can’t exactly take credit. I mean, it was going on in my neighborhood long before I was born .” He squeezes my hand. “Still... You’re the one who

brought it here.” He smiles. “Look at them .” Katie and Joey are sitting under the tree with a few other kids, tossing a big red ball between them. Every time one of them gets the ball, he or she thinks for a moment, says something, and they all burst out laughing. I don’t remember that game. “Wonder what they’re playing ?” “Think it’s that one where whoever gets the ball has to tell a secret,” he says. “Or a joke. Don’t remember .” Sounds about right . “Y’know, I had a lot of shitty Christmases growing up.” Nick crowds a little closer, snuggling against my side. “Always wanted to do something like this for the kids. But this... I love this. There’s so much for kids, but we forget about the parents, the grandparents. I mean... When you’re a kid and Christmas sucks, you still have that hope the next one’ll be perfect, or the one after that. Feels like you’ve got infinite Christmases waiting. But at the other end of the line... Can you imagine waking up on Christmas morning alone, thinking your last truly magical Christmas is behind you ?” I don’t want to imagine that. “Let’s not let that happen to each other .”

“Never. We’ll have... We’ll be like ninety, all cute and gray, with our kids and grandkids around our feet, and a big bushy tree with a star on top .” I find myself liking that thought—liking it a whole lot . “And I’ll still have a full head of hair, and you’ll still have legs for miles: we’ll be the hot old folks. The silver foxes .” I break out in helpless laughter. “You’re such a dweeb .” ‘Yeah, but I’m your dweeb .” “No refunds, no exchanges ?” “Not a one.” His fingers twine with mine. “I’m a final sale .” I decide not to ruin the moment by telling him that probably means he was on the clearance rack . He really wasn’t .

Chapter Twenty-Seven N ick Christmas can best be described as happy chaos . We wake up to Katie pushing Joey up and down the hall on his new red bike—his feet don’t quite reach the pedals, but I guess that’s not a problem when you’ve got a friend willing to help. I’ll put the kibosh on indoor bike-riding tomorrow, but for today, they should enjoy it . Lina comes up behind me, still in her dressing gown. “Looks like they found the presents .” “Sure did.” I poke her in the ribs. “So, d’you get me anything ?” “Don’t know—have you been a good boy ?” I can’t keep the wicked grin off my face. “You seemed to think so last night, when I was — “ She claps her hand over my mouth. “Sh—the kids !” Katie spots us, and wheels Joey in our direction.

“Sorry—it was kind of obvious what this was, from the shape of the wrapping paper .” “You guys kept sleeping in,” adds Joey . “That’s all right.” I pluck a scrap of wrapping paper out of his hair. “So, you guys tear into all the gifts, or just this one ?” “Just this one !” “Good.” Lina eyes Joey’s pajamas, which are flecked with what looks like strawberry jam. “You guys had breakfast ?” Joey nods. “Just toast, like you said .” She’s had us eating light since yesterday, in preparation for Christmas dinner with her folks. Having been over there for a few meals already, I’m fully on board with this strategy. I swear, last time we stayed for dinner, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to fit behind the wheel to drive us home. Still, I’m looking forward to this, especially seeing how excited the kids are . I put on some coffee while Lina herds the kids into the living room. I can hear them messing around in there, making “tinsentacles”—that is, shuffling across the carpet in their socks to get some static

going, then watching the tinsel reach out to them from the tree. We’re going to be finding tinsel around the place well into February . By the time I bring in the coffee, and cocoa with marshmallows for the kids, Joey’s pretty much a second Christmas tree, tinsel-festooned from head to toe. Katie’s got a few strands in her hair. I point her at a particular box under the tree. “Open that one first .” It’s the digital camera she’s been begging for all year. Got one for Joey too, a drop-proof, waterproof, kid-friendly model. Figure the two of them will spend all day snapping pictures, so we’ll be set for memories . Lina presses a long, flat box into my hands. “Here —it’s kind of stupid, but I sort of blew most of my budget on the kids .” “I’ll be the judge of that.” I tear off the wrapping paper, to reveal a long, narrow picture frame with three separate windows. The first has a program from the comedy club we went to on our first sortof-date, kind of creased and dogeared, with a sticky fingerprint on it. The next has a tarot card—not the Death one, I’m glad to note—and the last one’s still empty .

“I thought you could—we could put a picture from today in that last frame.” She looks away. “See? I told you it was dumb .” “No, it’s not.” I slide my arm around her waist and squeeze her tight. “How do you even have this?” I tap on the glass over the comedy club program. “That’s from the actual night! I recognize that name—that was the herpes guy. You were laughing so hard ....” She chuckles at the memory. “I picked one up on the way out. Found it in my back pocket next time I went to do laundry.” She gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Thought I might want to remember that day .” “You didn’t steal the tarot card from that fortune teller, did you? ‘Cause, I don’t know—she seemed kind of witchy. Like she might put a curse on us, or something .” “Nah—found a used deck at Goodwill. Picked out a card that seemed to fit us .” I peer at the card. It shows a woman in white petting a lion. “Strength ?” “Yeah. The booklet that came with the deck said it represents endurance, the will to triumph over any

obstacle. Seems to me we’ve come through a lot together, and....” She gestures at the kids, the tree, the brightly-decorated room. “Well, can’t argue with these kinds of results .” I couldn’t agree more. I reach under the tree. “Got you something too .” Despite the fact that I wrapped her gift like an ape, Lina manages to get the paper off in one piece. I like that about her, her neat way of doing things. Her jaw drops when she sees what’s inside . “A new Macbook? This is... Wow; this is really ....” “You can’t do an entire computer science degree using the ones at the library .” “Hey, I like the library! It’s quiet, and it smells good.” She brushes a stray scrap of cling film off the computer. “Still, this is...so generous. And thoughtful. Thank you. I love it .” “Flip it open .” She does, and a slow smile spreads over her face, when she sees what I’ve left on the desktop. Relief washes over me—I was afraid she’d think it was too much, too soon. But I’ve been thinking it for weeks. And now she’s reading it in a Word file:

Time for you and Joey to officially move in ? Lina hugs me close and whispers in my ear. “I didn’t know how to ask if we should stay or go— I’ve been dreading having to go back there after...you know .” “Definitely stay,” I tell her. “Stay forever .” I have something else to talk to her about too, but I’m saving that for after dinner, after the kids are in bed. I’ve decided it’s time. Time to stop making huge sums of money for a handful of people; time to start changing the world in the ways I always wanted to. I think Mark would approve. By this time next month, I’ll have handed the firm over to a new CEO, and I’m hoping Lina will work with me on my new enterprise . We made a great team, putting together the Happy Bean Christmas parties, and I have a feeling there’s not a lot we couldn’t do if we joined forces on a more permanent basis . I tuck that away for later, though. For now, there’s presents to open, skating to do, and of course, Christmas dinner . Joey comes up to investigate Lina’s new computer, and to take a crooked, low-angle picture of us. Lina

looks great, of course, but you can see straight up my nose. I tap on the preview window. “Oh yeah— nostril-cam !” Joey giggles. Lina lifts him up on the couch so he can get a better shot. The next one comes out pretty much perfect. Katie gets in on the action, snapping us with three different lenses. She and Joe agree that the 20mm takes the best photos, but the fisheye’s the most hilarious. I get the feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of that fisheye . “Okay, invasion of the paparazzi!” Lina takes Joey’s camera and flips through the pictures. “Save some space for Grandma and Grandpa, hmm ?” “We going over there now ?” “Nope—we’re meeting them at the park for some skating. You kids got your skates ready ?” “Yeah, skating!” Joey runs off, hopefully to get dressed . “I’d better go after him, make sure he remembers to wear his Christmas sweater.” Lina finishes off the last of her coffee and unfolds herself from the couch. “I haven’t skated in years, by the way. So you’ll be in charge of keeping the kids from faceplanting .”

I laugh. “Katie’s a budding figure skater. But I’ll hold onto Joey .” As it turns out, Joey’s a pretty good little skater. And padded out the way he is, in his puffy green snowsuit, the few spills he does take prove harmless. Cruising around the rink with a kid on each side of me, watching Lina slip and slide between her parents, feels about as close to heaven as it gets, this side of eternity . Katie circles around me and takes Joey by both hands. She skates off backwards, pulling him along with her. He laughs and shouts. Lina looks over, smiling. I snap a couple of pictures with my phone . I’ve always tried not to be too optimistic, not to set myself up for a fall, but picturing a lifetime of Christmases just like this doesn’t seem much of a stretch. I can see it all in my mind’s eye: Katie and Joey growing up, bringing home kids of their own, me and Lina swelling with pride. It all feels quite real, easily within reach . For once in my life, I’m going to relax and enjoy .

28

Epilogue (Elina) “W ouldn’t it suck if the varnish wasn’t quite as dry as we thought?” Nick asks. “If, when we went to get up, we realized we were hopelessly stuck to the floor? Like two mice in a glue trap ?” “I don’t know.” I fumble for his hand. The backs of our fingers brush. “It’s pretty nice here. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to move any time soon, anyway .” We’re sprawled out across two fat sunbeams in the middle of the brand new crafts cabin, with its high rafters, floor-to-ceiling windows, and freshlyvarnished floor. Not sure I’ve ever seen a floor this perfect, so shiny you could do your makeup in it. In a couple of days, the first group of kids’ll be here, scuffing it up, slopping puffy paint and Elmer’s Glue all over it. But for now, it’s just us, soaking up the last of the late afternoon rays. And reveling in our accomplishment . I wasn’t sure about this idea at first. But watching the site of my kidnapping ordeal transform into a summer paradise for kids and families has been surprisingly satisfying. Especially with me and Nick

pitching in so much. Taking control of this place kept me sane through those long, nail-biting months, waiting for the outcome of Joe’s trial . It was hard the first few times, coming out here, seeing the cabin where he held me prisoner, the rusted-out trailer across the way, but all that’s gone now. It hasn’t looked like the same place for months. Feels like I ripped the site of my worst memories out of the world, and replaced it with somewhere great. Somewhere a whole new set of visitors can make their best memories . I slip my hand into Nick’s. “I hate to say this, but there’s a part of me that’s not sure how to feel, knowing he’ll never, ever see this place, never know what we did with it .” He strokes my palm with his thumb. “Just a tiny part of you wants to rub it in his face ?” “Is that so wrong ?” “Nope.” I can hear the smile in his voice . The floor we’re lying on is maybe twenty feet from where Joe and Nick had the fight that bumped up his charge to kidnapping in the first degree. The state argued he’d used my captivity to terrorize Nick, and had planned to take advantage of the

commotion to abduct his own son. Add two assault charges, plus trespassing and grand theft auto— turns out that wasn’t even his car—and the judge threw the book at him. Forty-five years. He’ll probably be out in twenty, but it’s good. Really good . I let out a long sigh. “Would you believe a few of my old friends actually reached out to me ?” “Mm?” Nick turns his head to look at me . “Yeah. That woman from the bike club—the one who kinda led the charge against me—then two of my old co-workers, and my best friend from college .” “What’d they have to say ?” “Sorry, mostly. For not seeing me as his victim too .” “Must feel good .” “Mm....“ In truth, it surprised me how little I cared. There was a time when just one person taking my side would’ve meant the world, but now... It’s already behind me. And I won. I’m not even mad any more. I can look at those people and smile, forgive without hesitation. “What do they say?

All’s well that ends well—no skin off my nose .” Nick finally peels himself off the floor. “And an excellent nose it is too.” He boops my snoot with his index finger. “Beep !” “Oh, not you too!” Joey’s been running around beeping everyone’s nose. His friend Emin had a birthday clown a couple of weeks ago, and his act seems to have started a nose-honking trend. Normally harmless, but some of those pinches and pokes have been enthusiastic! And I’ve had more than one unfortunate finger/nostril situation . “C’mon.” Nick holds out his hand. “Let’s do one more sunset tour before the insanity hits .” I let him pull me to my feet. Honestly, our twilight walks have been my favorite part of the construction process. Feels like this is where we really got to know each other, after the initial whirlwind. Hand in hand, we broke in the new hiking trails, watched the seasons change, inspected the cabins that sprang up like a mushroom circle around the newly-expanded clearing. We even stole the first skinnydip in the new pool last night. It’d just been filled for the first time: not a Band-Aid, maple key, nor dead bug in sight . This time, he leads me down by the stream, to the

spot where we first found the fireflies. They’re just starting to come out for the night, winking into view between the leaves and over the water . I plop down on one of the picnic tables. “Kids are going to love this place .” “What about you ?” “I’ll miss it....” I pull Nick down next to me. “I mean, it’s not like we’ll never watch another sunset from this table. But after this, it’ll be everybody’s sunset. This’ll be the last time it’s just you and me and the fireflies, nobody else for miles .” Nick nods. “It’s strange. I hated this place so much, but now I don’t want to leave.” He grins. “Maybe I’ll just make this my castle. Mine! All mine !” “Mm, but it’d be kind of weird for a thirty-year-old guy to hog a whole summer camp to himself .” “I don’t know! There’s—there’s ....” “Yeah?” He throws up his hands in defeat. “You got me. Can’t think of a non-creepy example of an adult living in a playground .

“We should come back at the end of the summer, though. Like, right before Labor Day, when everyone’s gone home. We can bring the kids. Have one last marshmallow roast, one last swim, one last pony ride—get all the summer crazies out of their systems, before school lets back in .” “And after that, we can get married .” It comes out so casually I’m not sure I heard him right . But...no. That’s not true. I know I did . In a way, we’ve been planning our future together for months. Ever since I moved in; ever since he set up his foundation and I came to work for him fulltime, our lives have been twining themselves together. We back each other up, at work and with the kids. We’ve talked about more kids, and a house with a yard for them to play in. We’ve talked about college for Katie and Joey, trips we want to take, projects we want to fund. Even a dog—we’re surprising the kids with a trip to the shelter next weekend, so they can pick the best one. Getting an animal together, that’s real commitment . So I just lean into him fondly, and say, “What kind of wedding do you want ?”

“Mm...Elvis .” “Oh, very funny .” We playfight a while, a little pushy-pushy on the table, nudging each other back and forth till we’re both giggling like teens . At last, Nick gets himself under control. “Nah, I was thinking—remember that old mansion where we had the hospital fundraiser? Y’know, with the....” He makes an up-and-down gesture with his hands. “With the columns, and the double staircase, and the reflecting pool? I thought we could rent that out again, do it up with flowers and paper lanterns...like...over-the-top romantic .” I find myself liking that idea. It’s not the wedding I’d originally pictured for myself, but I kind of ruined that by planning it with Joe. This... This would be all me and Nick . “That was a great night,” I say. “Our first big fundraiser together. I was so nervous, with the dress, and the speech, and all those people ....” “But then we snuck into that room with the fourposter bed ....” “Those curtains were amazing—like making love

under a veil of stars .” “I still think we should’ve stolen them .” I snort. Yeah, that wouldn’t have looked suspicious —the organizers of the event sneaking out the back, rumpled and flushed, trailing armfuls of silk and glittering crystals. I almost wouldn’t put it past Nick: our first overnight at a hotel, I caught him stuffing our suitcase with robes and towels. Said it wasn’t really theft, because the hotel bills you for what you take . I think in a way, he’s never quite got used to being rich. I like that about him: life’s stayed surprisingly down-to-earth since we got together. It’s good for the kids to keep their feet on the ground. And Nick seems happier now, putting his fortune to good use . He elbows me one more time. “So, is that a yes? To getting married ?” I laugh. “You didn’t actually ask me .” “Yeah, I did !” “Nope: your exact words were, and after that, we can get married. A statement, not a question .” He doesn’t look in the least abashed. “We can,

though, right ?” I take my time kissing that smug look off his face. Let him sweat it, just for a second. I’m a little flushed when I tear myself away. “Of course we can .” Nick brightens. “Perfect! Then I can give you this, before I lose it.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny silver box, ornate, clearly an antique. It’s exquisite, with tiny rosebuds and vines worked into the metal, and an elaborate clasp holding it shut. “You open it. That stupid hinge thing hates my giant gorilla hands .” I flip the box open. I already know what I’m going to see: diamonds and sapphires in a white-gold band, a classic design given a modern spin. We talked about this, too, sitting right about where we are now . Even knowing what’s coming, the reality takes my breath away. The ring is delicate, gorgeous, the main stone nestled in a sparkling nebula of sapphires and diamonds that trails off to each side, twinkling around the band. I hand it to Nick; he slips it onto my finger . “It’s lovely,” I tell him. “Just so you know, though, you could’ve given me an onion ring, and I’d still

have said yes .” “Oh, now you tell me!" He cocks his head. “Let’s get onion rings on the way home. I’ve got a craving .” “Mm, at that place with the spicy mustard .” We wend our way back to the main campsite as night starts to fall. The fireflies are everywhere now, dancing on the archery range, over the pool, the firepit, the playgrounds. I can’t help but steal glances at the ring. The kids’ve been asking for a while now, when we’re going to get married. Guess we’ll have some big news for them tonight . It’s a nice night for the drive back to the city. I open the sunroof to let in the breeze. Nick chucks our lunchtime food wrappers into the back seat: that and his study are his two last bastions of slobbery. Anywhere else he puts something down, the housekeeper whisks it away before anything unsavory can coalesce. I was worried his junkrat tendencies might start to annoy me, with time, but nope: still totally cute. Plus, I still have some pretty hot memories of his disreputable back seat . Gives me a thrill to realize I’ll have a whole lifetime of memories to look forward to: hot ones, sweet ones, weird ones...the whole shebang. I never felt

this kind of certainty with Joe. I didn’t know what it was, back then, but there was always something in the back of my head, a feeling of shakiness, something not right in the foundations. But this time, there’s not a ghost of a doubt . This is it: this is my life, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the way it turned out .

Part II

The Storm I’m not a good man . I never claimed I was . But I can be good for her . Even if she's young enough to be my daughter ... I ran from the evils of my former life . Hid away in a mansion and bought a pup . And then Storm appeared out of the blue . Literally. She drifted in on a shot-up, smoking yacht, chased by the wings of a thunderstorm . This sweet, innocent girl, pure as the virgin snow . My chance to learn to live again . But she has secrets, too .

She's lived a life no woman ever should . The Mob will stop at nothing to find her . And now they know she's with me . The man they've hunted for years ... But I'll protect her from the storm . Whatever it takes .

Prologue I should begin by telling you that I don’t consider myself a good man. I’ve done things no man would be proud of, and I’ve hurt people. Whether it was right or wrong is subjective; all I can say is that my life has been one of extreme circumstances, to which I’ve often responded with extreme measures . N ot that your understanding – or lack of it – means anything to me. The only one whose opinion matters is her . From the moment I first saw her, disoriented and almost drowned by the heaving Atlantic, she has been the only thing in my life of value. I have money – more than a man could spend in a hundred lifetimes – but that’s just scribblings in an account ledger. It can’t make me laugh, or play music that brings me to tears, or make my heart thunder in my chest with a simple kiss . Only she can do that: the Storm who blew into my life and smashed the wall of normalcy I’d carefully built around myself. She laid me bare in front of the winds and rains of my past, showed me the soul

from which I can’t hide, and in doing so helped me finally understand who I truly am . Yes, I left the lifestyle behind years ago. But I can’t leave myself behind. As an American once said to me when I was fresh off the boat from Russia: no matter where you go, there you are . I thought I understood that, until she explained it to me in a whole new way . And she loved me . Not in spite of everything I am, but because of everything I am . Storm came to me under extreme circumstances, and I will use extreme measures to keep her. I won’t apologize for it. If you can accept that, we won’t have a problem . If you can’t, I suggest you stay out of my way, because nothing in this world will stop me from being with her and keeping her safe . Nothing.

Chapter Twenty-Nine 1 . NICK When the chubby little weatherman from Channel 7 actually puts on his rain gear and starts reporting live on location from the storm, I know it’s time to finally go down to the dock and secure my boat . Samson and Delilah take my flank as they always do whenever I leave the rambling old mansion on the cliffs of Montauk. Shepherds are smart, loyal dogs, but they’re not keen on being left alone, especially in that 30,000-square-foot mausoleum I call home. Some robber baron built it at the turn of the last century as a monument to greed; I bought it because it’s hard to get to . My long grey slicker shields me from the horizontal rain – the weatherman said winds were gusting up to fifty miles per hour – as I follow the path that leads from the gardens of my house down through a series of switchbacks on the bank and finally to the rocky shore below. The dogs range ahead until they’re out of sight, ignoring the weather . It takes about five minutes to reach the single-

vessel slip where I keep my vintage 30-foot Trojan. I normally just leave her anchored, but with this squall I figure it can’t hurt to get some chafe protectors down and get her moored in. I didn’t spend three years restoring my baby to her full 1974 glory to have it lost at sea, or worse, tossed up onto the rocks . The dogs see it first and come bounding up to the dock from the rocky stretch of beach, barking their fool heads off. They’re normally very quiet for shepherds, so I take a glance around to see what’s set them off. The Atlantic is roiling with the storm and the horizon is mostly an ashen canvas of rain and fog, except … Now I see it, too: a shadow maybe a hundred yards out, being tossed about by the waves. The general shape indicates a catamaran running on its sails. If the engines are out, there’s no way it can make it safely to my slip on its own, and if the winds pick up any more, it might end up flipped over and capsized . God damn it. I just wanted to moor my boat . “Looks like I won’t be dry anytime soon,” I grouse to the dogs, which they take as an invitation to join me on the Trojan. They hop in and trot down to the saloon as I climb the ladder to the cockpit and hit

the toggle to bring up the anchor . I cruise towards the catamaran at a slow and steady clip, fighting the waves and staying on course as best I can. At fifty yards, I can see her mainsail is just spinning freely – the boat must have gotten loose from its moorings somewhere up the coast and just blew out here. My work here is done . “That’s what insurance is for,” I mutter as I crank the wheel to head back to the slip . But now the dogs are barking again . “What’s up your noses now?” I holler, but even as I do, I see it: a shape on the catamaran’s deck, listing and stumbling with each swell of the storm . A human shape . God damn it . I spin the Trojan back in the other direction and quickly close the distance between us before dropping anchor. Suddenly, the catamaran bobs violently and the person on the deck is pinwheeling backwards towards the stern. There’s no way I’ll be able to pull up alongside and lash my boat to it before whoever it is goes overboard .

“GOD DAMN IT!” I bark. I toss off my slicker and throw my arms forward, leaping from the cockpit into the heaving waters . My balls shrivel as I plunge into the cold waves and start kicking toward the catamaran. It’s only a matter of a dozen yards, but the storm throws up enough resistance that I’m huffing by the time I reach the ladder . The shifting waters threaten to pitch me off as I pull myself up. That’s when I’m finally close enough to see that the hull is full of small black dots. I wipe the seawater from my eyes to get a clearer look and realize that they’re bullet holes . It’s been a lot of years, but my body still welcomes the adrenalin like an old friend as it rushes into my system, quickening my heart rate and widening my pupils. If whoever’s on the deck has a gun, he’s going to regret ever sailing onto the little patch of the Atlantic that crosses my property . “Help!” a high voice shrieks, and I realize that it’s just a girl. “Please, help me !” She’s clutching the guardrail on the catamaran’s stern, desperately trying to keep from going overboard. I can see her more clearly now through the driving rain and spray: it’s not a girl but a young

woman, late teens or early 20s, long hair, athletic build. No weapon in either hand. Whatever caused the holes, it’s a safe bet it wasn’t her . I reach the deck and steady myself with the rails. My own sea legs are pretty good after all these years, and I list my way towards the cockpit, where I kick down the handle that drops the anchor to the ocean floor. Then I make my way over to her in just a handful of seconds . Her blue eyes widen as she sees me. Even drenched by the storm and her current circumstances, she’s striking. But she’s definitely not dressed for the weather: her black cocktail dress barely reaches mid thigh and high heels aren’t doing her any good in this weather. No wonder she can barely keep her footing . “Thank you!” she blurts as I take her arm. “I thought… I thought I was going to …” At that moment, the bow heaves up, tossing us both backwards. I lose my grip on her and she loses her grip on the guardrail. A second later and she’s a splash in the ocean ten feet below . Without thinking, I dive back in, my heart thundering. Through the grace of God, there’s still enough daylight for me to make out her shape

underwater. A few powerful kicks and I have her in my arms. I pull her to the surface with me, but I can tell by her sluggish movements that she’s taken in water . Samson and Delilah are barking up hell as I drag the girl to the side of the Trojan. I manage to hook one arm around her torso and pull myself up the ladder with the other, until she’s on her back on the deck. Suddenly I’m not just a rescuer but a paramedic – her life is in my hands . The dogs watch nervously as I cross my palms on her ample chest and press in rapid succession, until she finally coughs out a clot of seawater. She rolls onto her side and vomits more out onto the deck. It’s not a pretty sight, but I’m enormously relieved by it . My reaction surprises me. Since when do I care about complete strangers ? “Easy,” I say, lifting under her arm again and carrying her down into the saloon. She needs to get below decks as soon as possible . “Thank you,” she mumbles once more in a dazed voice . I look her over, trying to gauge if she’s injured. Her

dress clings to the curves of her dancer’s body; if there were any broken bones, they would stand out. As far as I can tell, the only thing physically wrong with her is that she’s exhausted and has swallowed seawater . “What’s your name?” I ask . Before she can answer, she’s out like a light on the sofa, clutching the thick wool blanket I’ve tossed over her. Within a few seconds she’s snoring softly, despite the chaos swirling around us . I shake my head. An hour ago, I was warm and dry and enjoying my coffee. Now I feel like a drowned rat, and I still have to haul this woman back up the banks with me once I get the Trojan back to the dock . “Your name should be Storm,” I grumble as I head back up to the cockpit, leaving the dogs in charge of my new companion .

Chapter Thirty 2 . NICK She snaps awake to the explosion of a pine knot in the fire, gasping and pitching forward under the coverlet of the antique four-poster bed. Her terror at the sound confirms my suspicion that the holes in the catamaran’s hull came from gunfire . “It’s all right,” I say softly from my chair next to the fire. “You’re safe. No one can hurt you here .” Her gaze darts around the room as she takes in her new surroundings: a large, high-ceilinged bed chamber covered in polished mahogany paneling, with rich Oriental rugs and a small antique shop’s worth of period furniture. It’s one of fifteen such bedrooms in my house on the hill, none of which has been occupied by a human since I bought it more than a decade ago . Slowly, the storm behind her azure eyes seems to dissipate as she realizes she’s not in danger. Her heaving chest begins to slow under the cable-knit sweater I swaddled her in, as her breathing returns to a more normal pace – or as normal as it can be,

given the circumstances. Her hair has finally dried into a series of golden tangles, and her pale skin is regaining some color now from the heat of the bed and the fire . Finally, after several long moments, she lies back in the bed and pulls the covers up to her chin . “Where am I?” she asks in a papery voice . Interesting that her first concern is where she is, not who I am. More evidence that whoever put the holes in the catamaran is more fearsome to her than the grim, bearded man sitting next to the fireplace in this strange room with her . “You’re in my home,” I say. “Up the road from East Hampton .” She stares at me in silence for what seems like a full minute, running her tapered fingers through the thatch of her hair. It makes her seem younger somehow, and I wonder again just how old she is . “You,” she says. “You saved me. On the boat .” I nod . She leans forward in the bed, and I can see naked gratitude in her eyes .

“Thank you,” she says earnestly . I nod again. She’s not offering details on how she ended up on the boat or who put the holes in it, and I’m not going to push. I learned long ago that asking for details rarely makes a situation better . “My name is Nick,” I say. I raise my eyebrows, inviting a response . She bites her lip and looks away. All right, then . “How about I call you Storm?” I offer . She smiles and nods, obviously relieved. Oddly, I find myself smiling back. I can’t remember the last time I did that; it feels strange on my face . “Storm it is, then. Is there anyone you need to call ?” A shadow crosses her face; it’s all the answer I need . “Right,” I nod. “A single woman .” “I’m sorry,” she blurts. “I don’t really – I mean, I just …” I raise a hand to quiet her. “You don’t need to explain anything to me,” I say. “You’re welcome to

stay here until you feel better. I haven’t had a companion in a while. Well, other than Samson and Delilah, of course .” She blinks. “Samson and Delilah ?” I wave my hand towards the side of her bed. She leans over to see the dogs lying on the floor, muzzles on paws, looking up at her. As she makes eye contact, their tails begin to wag in unison . “Oh!” she gasps. “They’re beautiful !” They’re also the best judges of character I’ve ever known, and they haven’t left Storm’s side since I brought her onto my boat. That alone is enough reason for me to keep her here and not ask questions. And, of course, the fact that I’d appreciate the same if I was in her position . Storm turns to me with a childlike grin. “Can I pet them ?” The dogs stand and raise their muzzles to her outstretched hand. Samson, the larger of the two, slides his leathery tongue along Storm’s palm, prompting a giggle of delight . “They like you,” I say. “Usually they just ignore strangers. Unless they’re doing something they’re

not supposed to, of course .” She frowns. “What happens then ?” I shrug. “They’re highly trained guard dogs. You do the math .” Her eyes widen and she looks down at them as she absently scratches behind Delilah’s ear. Delilah’s eyes are closed in silent appreciation . “They’re so sweet,” says Storm. “I can’t believe they’d hurt anyone .” I surprise myself by chuckling. It’s been ages since I’ve laughed . “They’re predators,” I say. “It’s in their nature. But they can be tamed so that they keep their deadly instincts in check until they’re needed .” Her blue eyes meet mine and suddenly my belly is full of butterflies . “Did you train them yourself?” she asks . I nod. “My father taught me .” He taught me a lot of things , I don’t add . Storm looks around the bedroom, taking it in this

time instead of just trying to get her bearings. Judging by the look on her face, she’s impressed – perhaps even intimidated. Outside the window, the rear gardens glow red in the furious sunset that was left behind by the abating storm . “Is this all yours?” she asks. “The whole house ?” “Yes,” I say, then nod towards the dogs. “Well, mine and theirs .” She looks at them and giggles. “That’s a lot of house for three, don’t you think ?” “I suppose. But it’s far away from other people, and hard to get to, which is how I like it .” Storm’s brows knit and I know I’ve said something wrong . “I’m sorry,” she says, reaching for the coverlet. “I should go. You’ve done so much for me already –” “No,” I say quickly, fighting a surge of adrenaline in my belly. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re welcome here. In fact, I insist you stay until you feel better .” She bites her lip. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden on you .”

I weigh whether to keep dancing around the subject or to pull it into the light. As is my nature, I choose the latter . “Someone has already tried to kill you once,” I say . Her eyes widen. “How did you …?” “I saw the holes in the hull of the boat. Look, I don’t particularly care what led to you being out in that storm; your past is your business. But there’s an old saying about being responsible for a life you save, and I can guarantee that you’ll be safe here .” Storm sits silently for a few moments, chewing that over . “You don’t know the people who are – who led to me being on that boat,” she says. “I don’t want to put you in danger .” I chuckle again. “I’m in no danger, Storm. Trust me .” She looks down at the dogs, then back up at me . “I believe you,” she says quietly. “I don’t know why, but I do .”

Why does that make my belly flutter ? “Good,” I say with a full-on smile. God, how long has it been since anyone saw one of those on my face ? “What happened to the boat I was on?” she asks . “It should still be anchored where I left it. I was planning to retrieve it after you woke up .” “You can sink it for all I care,” she says with a scowl . “All right.” I nod . Storm blinks at me. “I didn’t really – I mean, you’d actually sink it ?” “Sure. Easier than bringing it in .” “But – but what about… you know, the owner ?” “I’m guessing the owner was the one who shot at you, so I don’t really care about their opinion .” She mulls that over, then nods. “Okay,” she says. “Yes. Please sink it .” “You’ll be all right without me?” I ask as I stand to leave .

She smiles and strokes Samson’s head . “I’d say I’m pretty safe, wouldn’t you ?” I surprise myself by smiling again. Twice in one day is a record for me, at least for the last decade or so . “The bathroom is through that door,” I say, pointing in the direction of the room’s en suite . “The kitchen is on the main floor in the east wing .” “East wing?” she says, eyebrows raised. “How big is this place ?” “Big enough to get lost in. Don’t worry; the dogs will follow you anywhere you go. I’ll be back soon .” As I turn to leave she says: “Nick ?” “Yes?” “Be careful. Okay ?” “I always am .” She nods. “Yeah, I can see that .” “Once I’m back, we can talk about things a bit more. Or not. Up to you .”

“I think – I think I’d like to talk more .” “So would I .” Did that just come out of my mouth? I’ve been alone in this house for more than a dozen years with no one but the dogs to talk to. And that’s the way I like it. Then this woman shows up out of nowhere and suddenly I’m a chatterbox ? I shake my head as I stalk out of the room, wondering what the hell I’m getting myself into .

Chapter Thirty-One 3 . STORM It doesn’t occur to me until after he’s gone that Nick saw me naked . I mean, he must have – he changed me out of the dress I was wearing on the boat into the sweater and pajama pants I’m in now. And my underwear is nowhere to be found . No man has ever seen me naked before, let along touched my bare skin. And yet he must have done to get me changed. I don’t know how I feel about that. Anyone else and I probably would have felt totally creeped out by the thought of it . But it was Nick, and I’m not. In fact, I’m almost … excited by it? Is that insane ? Beside me, Delilah chucks her snout under my hand. Pet me , if you’d be so inclined , she’s saying, so I do. Samson looks on jealously, so I reach my fingers under his chin and give him a scratch, too . Nick. Who is this guy? I tell him to scuttle a

catamaran worth probably a quarter-million dollars and he agrees without batting an eye. And making promises about keeping me safe – is he really as tough as he tries to sound? The men who are after me are seriously dangerous. A couple of German shepherds and a creepy old house won’t even break their stride . But there’s something about Nick that makes me believe he can back up what he says. Maybe it’s that inky hair and those steel-grey eyes. Or that body – he’s easily twenty years older than me, but I could see the rock-hard muscle under his shirt every time he moved. Or the fact he moves like some jungle cat, as if anything that’s in his way would simply step aside and let him pass . Or those tattoos on his knuckles. I didn’t recognize the symbols, but even I’m old enough to realize they’re not there out of vanity. Nick’s ink is there for a reason, unlike all those Millennial hipsters who think tattoos will make them look tough . So what is he, then? A thrill runs through me at the thought of finding out. But is it excitement I’m feeling – or fear? Or both ? Whatever it is, right now Nick is the only thing standing between me and Arkady. And so far, he doesn’t seem interested in my past. He doesn’t

even mind that I haven’t told him my real name. That’s enough for me . It has to be .

*** F rom what I can tell, Nick’s house is bigger than the elementary school I went to back in Arkansas, and I’ve only been through half of it so far. A quarter, really, since it’s two stories . So far I’ve been through the main floor of the wing on the ocean side – mostly bedrooms and bathrooms, but also a few sitting rooms, a home theater and a library. All of it is like my bedroom, with rich, dark wood, ornate rugs and beautiful antique furniture. The last purple light of sunset filters in through tall cross-hatched windows, casting shadows on the walls behind the statues of old men in military clothes. It’s what I imagine an English manor house would look like . Yeah, like I would know. The sum total of travelling I’ve done in my life was Arkansas to New York a few years ago . True to Nick’s word, Samson and Delilah haven’t

left my side since I started exploring. They pad along beside me as I pass through the main entry foyer on my way to what Nick called the east wing, where the kitchen supposedly is, in search of something to quell the grumbling in my stomach . “Hungry?” Jesus! I freeze, and my mouth suddenly tastes like pennies as adrenaline courses through my body. The sound of my own blood roars through my ears as my mind imagines Arkady standing behind me with a gun pointed at the back of my head . “Ah shit,” the voice mutters, and I manage to finally breathe when I realize it’s Nick. “Sorry. I thought you heard me come in .” My legs tremble as I turn to face him in the wide hallway. The sheepish look seems so out of place on his grim face that I almost let out a hysterical laugh . “It’s okay,” I manage to say despite my galloping heartbeat. “I should have been paying attention .” He places a warm hand on my lower back, sending a jolt up my spine . “No, it’s not okay,” he says. “I’m too used to being

the only person in the house; I should have realized you wouldn’t hear a door in such a huge place. I need to get used to that if you’re going to be staying here .” Staying here? I – I like the sound of that . “No, really,” I say. “You’re the host, I’m the guest. I’m the one who needs to get used to things .” His smile and the fading light combine to soften the features of his face. He doesn’t seem nearly as grim as he did when I first woke up in the bedroom. Or maybe it’s just me . “How about we both start thinking about it?” he offers . “Deal.” He points toward the far end of the hallway. “The kitchen is down this way. I was asking if you were hungry when I scared the shit out of you .” “Starving,” I say with a giggle. “All that terror really worked up an appetite .” He leads me past a huge formal dining room with seating for twenty, and into the kitchen beyond it. As he hits the light switch, I can see that, unlike the

rest of the house, this room has been renovated and updated, with a restaurant-sized refrigerator and a ten-burner gas range. The towering windows open out onto the gardens at the back of the property . Now that we’re in the light, I can see Nick also has a canvas shopping bag. He lays it on the counter as he turns towards me . “Would you like me to cook something for you?” he asks . I shake my head. “I don’t want to put you out. Just a piece of toast and some tea would be great .” “You’re sure ?” I nod. He seems disappointed, but fills the kettle from the sink next to the stove . “What’s in the bag?” I ask . “Clothes. I figured you’d get sick of my sweater and pajamas pretty soon, and your dress wasn’t exactly practical .” My heart skips a beat. I never even thought about clothes, and here this stranger has gone out of his way to buy me some. It’s one of the most thoughtful things anyone’s ever done for me .

“Thank you,” I say. “Again. I’m starting to sound like a broken record .” He shrugs. “Can’t have you running around naked .” That makes me think about him changing me, and I feel that unfamiliar thrill down there again . The tea he makes is black as tar and the toast is some strange dark bread I’ve never seen before, but both are delicious. As I finish my snack, I see Samson and Delilah snoozing on the floor several feet away and realize suddenly that I’m exhausted . “I’m sorry,” I say through a yawn. “I think I need to go back to bed .” Nick nods. “There are real pajamas in the bag. Women’s, I mean .” He actually looks uncomfortable as he says it, and I can’t help but wonder if he kept his eyes closed while he was changing me. The thought makes me feel – I don’t know. Comfortable , I guess . “You think of everything.” I smile . “It’s kind of a new experience,” he says. “There hasn’t been a woman in this house for a very long

time .” His words make me instantly curious, but exhaustion wins out and I start the long journey back to my bedroom. I stop to touch his shoulder as I pass . “Good night, Nick .” “Good night, Storm .” I smile sleepily at the name as I leave the light of the kitchen and venture into the vast darkness of the rest of the house, both dogs silently flanking me .

Chapter Thirty-Two 4 . STORM This time when I wake up, I know where I am. The lace curtains aren’t doing anything to keep the sunrise out of my eyes, and I can smell the smoky remains of the fire that burned itself out over the course of the night . I take a long, hot shower in the en suite’s clawfoot tub, using the shampoo and conditioner that was in the bag Nick gave me. He thought of everything, including a razor and a blow dryer. The only thing he didn’t get was make-up, which I never use anyway . At least, I never wore it until Arkady forced me to . A stab of panic runs through my belly at the thought, but I manage to breathe it away. I remind myself that I’m safe now. I’m with Nick . My hair looks infinitely better than it did last night, tangled as it was by my time in the ocean and then the old four-poster bed. Once it’s dry, I throw on some underwear – it occurs to me that it’s kind of

amazing how Nick managed to guess my size – along with a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from the bag. I won’t be going to any Broadway openings in it, but beggars can’t be choosers . Boy, if that’s not the story of my life . It’s a lot easier to navigate the house in the full light of day, instead of the bruised sunset after a storm. Samson and Delilah appear at my side like silent Secret Service agents as I leave my room. I think they may have slept in my room last night, but I can’t be sure; as far as I can tell, I didn’t even roll over after my head hit the pillow . The first stop I have planned is the kitchen. The tea and toast from last night are long gone, and I was hoping I could return the favor by making breakfast for Nick. But first I have to find him . The west side of the house is as empty as it was last night, so I pad through the main foyer and head to the unexplored east wing, past the dining room and kitchen to another hallway . Whap! What? Whap thok! Whapwhapwhapthokwhap! Thok thok

THOK ! My breath hitches in my chest as the strange sounds echo along the old wood paneling in the hallway. They’re coming from a room about thirty feet down and to my left, and there’s something undeniably violent about them . I open my mouth to call Nick’s name, but stop myself before I do. Drawing attention to myself is a bad idea. Instead, I tiptoe down the hall, my back to the wall, towards the sounds. They’re even louder as I reach the open doorway: WhapWhapWhapTHOKWhap ! But now there’s something else mixed in: panting. And… is that grunting ? Across from me in the hallway is a large antique mirror that shows me a reverse image of what’s going on in the room. In its reflection, I see Nick’s bare torso glistening with sweat as his fists slam into a series of pads set up inside a wooden apparatus of some sort. That’s the whap . The thok is the edge of his hands colliding with wooden cylinders set up at various points between the pads . I let out a shaky breath I didn’t even realize I’d

been holding. Everything is fine. I’m still safe . As my fear ebbs away, my attention turns to Nick’s reflection. My impression of his body last night was on the mark: his shoulders are cannonballs, his arms wrapped in steel cables of muscle. His belly looks hard enough to stop a bullet. Swollen veins bulge against the skin of his biceps and forearms, making him seem animalistic somehow . His back is ramrod-straight as he goes through his techniques, driving his fists into the pads and then following that with a sideways thrust with the edge of his hands into the wooden cylinders. The apparatus shakes a bit each time a strike hits home . The motions are almost hypnotic to watch, like a conductor leading a symphony of violence. I can only imagine the damage that a single one of those blows might inflict on a human body, let alone one right after another . Nick was obviously telling the truth when he said he could protect me. The question I can’t help but ask myself is whether anything could protect me from him . The noises stop and I see Nick’s reflection pluck a hand towel from the apparatus. As he wipes the sheen of sweat from his face, I can’t help myself

from stepping into the doorway and clapping . He looks at me, startled, and the sudden flash of anger in his eyes chills my heart for a moment. But it’s gone again just as quickly . “I’m sorry,” I say hesitantly. “I didn’t mean to spy, really. It’s just that was – I mean, wow. Amazing .” He drapes the towel around his shoulders and surprises me by smiling and doing a little stage bow . “I’ve never had an audience before,” he says . The thought flashes through my mind: At least not one that was conscious when it was over . I scold myself for it. I don’t know that he’s ever used this skill on another person. That’s a pretty big leap to make for someone I barely know . Is it really? says a voice in my head. I think you know more about Nick than you’re willing to admit . Shut up, brain. I don’t have the luxury of secondguessing the man who’s protecting me from Arkady. He is who he is, and I should be thankful for it .

“It’s almost like a dance,” I say, wincing inwardly at how lame that sounds. “Except with your hands instead of your feet .” He nods. “Very good. that’s exactly how my father explained it to me when he taught me .” “What is it? Karate ?” “Just something he learned in the army,” he says with a dismissive wave . “Could you teach me?” I blurt before my mind has a chance to stop my mouth . My stomach sinks as his eyebrows rise. He thinks I’m a fool, he’s going to tell me that I’m a silly little girl, and this is something for grown men, I just know it. Why did I ask ? You know why you asked , says the voice in my head. Arkady . To my total surprise, he says, “If you like .” I blink at him stupidly for a few seconds. “Really?” I say finally. “You’re sure ?” “Why not ?” Nick may not be the chattiest guy in the world, but

I’m liking him more with every passing minute. He motions for me to come stand where he is and hands me a pair of lightly padded leather gloves . “You’ll need these,” he says. “It takes years to get to the point where you can use bare knuckles .” As I get closer, I see that his knuckles aren’t his only tattoos. There are multi-pointed stars on each of his upper pectorals, and what look to be a pair of epaulettes on his shoulders, like on a military uniform. But the colors on all of them have faded to the point where they’re only visible up close . I ignore them. Nick’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy toward me is a godsend. The least I can do is offer him the same respect . As I pull on the gloves, Nick stands behind me and takes me by the shoulders, positioning me so that I’m facing the apparatus head-on . “It’s important that you’re always facing forward,” he says in my ear, setting off a flock of butterflies in my tummy. “It’s called linear fighting .” “Linear,” I say because I can’t think of anything else. “Got it .” “Try a punch like you normally would .”

I do, landing on the pad with a weak slapping noise. It sounds like a toddler hitting a teddy bear compared to Nick’s strikes . “The power of your strike comes from your hips and legs, not your arms,” he says . I blink. “How does that work ?” Suddenly his huge hands are gripping my hips and my heart is racing. He pushes my right hip forward with a powerful thrust, pulling the left back with the reverse motion . “The power is in the pivot,” he says. “You just need to strike in time with the movement .” “Pivot and punch,” I breathe. “Got it .” “Now try combining the two .” Pivot and punch. Move my hips and my arm. I want so badly to impress him, even though I really don’t know why . I take a breath and twist, driving my right arm forward as best I can . Thwap! The blow sends an uncomfortable jolt up the length

of my arm all the way to my shoulder, but I don’t let it show . Nick whistles softly in my ear, almost making me lose my balance . “Impressive,” he says, his hands still warm on my hips. “I didn’t throw a punch like that until months after I started training .” “I just pictured somebody’s face on the pad,” I say, trying to sound like I’m kidding. In fact, it had been Arkady in my mind’s eye . Nick is so close behind me that I can smell the musk generated by his workout. My heart gallops in my chest as his powerful hands turn me to face him . “You might be a natural at this,” he says, the cold embers of his eyes locked on mine. “I think you have an edge to you, even if you don’t see it .” “Takes one to know one,” I breathe . Jesus, did I really just say that? He must think I’m a child ! “You’re right,” he says. “We’re two of a kind, I think .”

Before I know what’s happening, my arms are around his neck, pulling his face to mine. His lips are like hot leather against mine as I open my mouth to accept him. He does the same, and my tongue slides in greedily . What am I doing? I barely know this man! He’s old enough to be my father ! The thoughts don’t stop me from tangling my fingers in that black hair as he grips my hips with his huge hands. My heart is pounding so hard he must be able to feel it against his own chest. It all seems so crazy ! But it all seems so right, too . Nick gives as good as he gets, meeting my passion with his own until his arms are wrapped completely around my waist. He pulls me toward him and I can feel hard warmth pressing against me under the thin fabric of my sweatpants . His mouth finally breaks contact with mine and moves to my ear. “Storm,” he whispers . The sound of this name that he gave me makes me want him even more . “We have to stop,” he breathes. “This isn’t right .”

The spell breaks with a rush of blood into my cheeks, and suddenly I’m mortified. What was I thinking? He’s done so much for me and I just decide to maul him out of nowhere ! “I’m so sorry,” I say, pushing myself away from him. “I don’t know what came over me. You’ve been nothing but wonderful to me …” He grabs me by the shoulders and locks eyes with me again. I’m trapped in that gaze, unable to move . “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I just – I wasn’t ready. Not right now. But we have time.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Unless you’re going somewhere ?” “Uh,” I say. “I mean no. No, I’m not going anywhere. Unless you want me to. Do you ?” “No.” “That’s good. I’ll stay .” “Good.” He lets go of me and I take a deep breath, trying to overcome the shame that’s coursing through me. He’s still okay with me. I haven’t ruined things. I’m still safe, at least for now .

Nick surprises me by chuckling, which sets off another wave of nerves . “Did I say something funny?” I ask . He shakes his head and points to the door. I follow his finger to see Samson and Delilah sitting in the doorway, both tails wagging like mad . “I think they approve,” he says . Against all sanity, I start to giggle myself .

Chapter Thirty-Three 5 . NICK The sound of Storm’s laughter as she runs with the dogs is almost musical. I’ve never seen them play like this in the six years I’ve had them, dropping down on their front legs and wagging their rear ends, then darting away from Storm’s touch before circling back and starting the keep-away process again . Maybe it’s because I’m not exactly a playful guy. They’re responding to her innocent nature, just as they respond to my own grim one . Innocent. I need to keep remembering that word. She’s an innocent young woman trapped by circumstances, and I almost let her make a huge mistake in the dojo. She was overcome by the moment and her gratitude, and I should never have let it happen . But it’s been so long since I’ve touched a woman, and she’s so beautiful … Shake it off, Nikolai. What would your father have

said about taking advantage of a girl like that ? That’s why I invited her along on this walk with the dogs. Distraction and distance. That’s what we need. Neither of us is in any state for anything else . Samson and Delilah sprint off ahead of us after a jackrabbit that they’ll never catch. It doesn’t matter to them – all they want is the thrill of the chase. Storm props her hands on her knees and laughs breathlessly as she waits for me to catch up . “I love them,” she says simply. The sun glimmers off her golden hair, casting a halo around her beautiful face . “I think the feeling is mutual,” I say . She shakes her head. “I’m sure they’re like this with everyone .” “Not at all. They’re usually very professional. They’re working dogs and they know it .” “Working at what ?” “Protection, as I said .” “From what? You told me no one ever comes here .”

I shrug. “Then they’re doing their job well, aren’t they ?” She giggles. I love that she doesn’t ask questions that I really don’t want to answer, just as I don’t press her on what led her here to me. It makes for such an easy relationship – at least when I’m not complicating it by trying to seduce her . Focus, Nikolai . We stop as we reach the crest of a small hill. From our elevated vantage point above the cliffs, we can see the entire estate: the house, the carriage house that was once used as a guest quarters, the gardens . Storm surveys the property, shaking her head . “This is unbelievable,” she says quietly. “It’s like something out of a movie .” “Actually, the estate was used as a film location in the 1980s, before I bought it. I don’t remember the name; something about an old recluse who lures young people to his mansion and murders them .” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I’m trying to swallow them back .

“Uh, that is… I mean –” Storm’s grin spreads to the point that her face almost splits in two before she breaks up into laughter. I’m sure my face is glowing several shades of crimson . “I’m sorry,” she sputters when she finally composes herself. “That was just – that was hilarious .” “Yes, I’m sure,” I grumble . That sets her off again. She places a hand on my arm to steady herself, igniting an unwelcome tremor of excitement in my belly . “See, that’s what makes it so funny,” she sighs. “You’re always so straight-faced. I wish I’d been recording that on my phone. It would have gotten a million views on YouTube, easy .” Suddenly her eyes go wide. “My phone,” she says. “I can’t believe I haven’t thought of it before now .” “I thought people your age were surgically attached to them,” I smirk . “Ha ha,” she says with a look that’s anything but amused. “I don’t suppose you saw it when you –

you know, when you found me ?” “Sorry. Just you and a little black dress .” She frowns . “Why?” I ask. “Is there someone you need to call ?” As soon as I say it, I find myself dreading the answer. But how stupid could I be? Of course she has someone waiting for her, worried about her. A family, a – a boyfriend. People who are frantic to know if she’s all right. I’ve been keeping her here all to myself, like the man in that movie . “No,” she says quietly. “There’s nobody .” Part of me is relieved, but the tone of her voice still makes my heart ache. Can she really have no one at all ? Is she really that much like me ? “I’ll get you a new one,” I say, hoping to lift the mood . “It’s all right,” she says. “I don’t need one. I can just use yours if I really need to call anyone .” I wince. “Sorry, not possible .”

“Why not ?” “I don’t have a cell phone .” She blinks. “Are you serious ?” “I just never felt the need for one. There’s a landline in the house – at least I think there is. I don’t know where the actual phone is, though .” “You’re telling me you never use the phone ?” I shake my head . “Wow,” she breathes. “I can’t imagine having that much will power .” But the look behind her eyes makes me think she’s feeling more than a little sad for me. Like she realizes the reason I don’t use the phone is because I have no one to talk to . Samson and Delilah save me from the uncomfortable moment by bounding up the hill towards us. Storm grins as they approach and drops to her knees in the grass to greet them. The dogs shock me by licking her face furiously, making her double over and cover herself, giggling, to protect herself from the onslaught .

“All done,” I say sternly, and they both sit immediately . “Aww,” Storm pouts. “I was having fun .” “Sorry, but I don’t like them to get too far from their training. They need to remember they’re working dogs .” She sighs. “I used to have a dog when I was a kid back in Arkansas. She’d lick my face like that. It was her way of drying my tears and cheering me up .” I want very much to ask her about it, but I won’t. No questions, that’s the rule . “Do you want to go buy a new phone?” I ask, hoping to change the subject. “I can take you into town .” “No,” she says. “I don’t really feel like going anywhere right now, if that’s okay with you .” It’s more than okay with me . “Of course. Whatever you like .” “Plus, I get the sense that you can’t really afford to go splurging on a new phone,” she says with an

embarrassed wince . I blink twice before her smirk tells me she’s joking. Suddenly I’m chuckling like an idiot . Storm grins. “I knew you could laugh if you really put your mind to it !” I shake my head. “Brat .” She sticks her tongue out at me, and instantly my pants become tighter . “Come on,” I say, again trying to change the subject. Distraction and distance . “Let’s head back to the house. I’ll make lunch .” “Okay,” she says. “What’s on the menu ?” “Soup and sandwich ?” She rolls her eyes comically. “I’m so giving this hotel two stars on TripAdvisor .” I have no idea what TripAdvisor is, but I get the joke . “Very funny,” I say. “We’ll see what you say after you taste it .” ***

“O h. My. GOD .” Storm shovels the borscht into her mouth like she hasn’t eaten in a week, which may be the case for all I know. Other than her toast last night, I haven’t seen her eat anything . “So,” I say. “Better than two stars ?” She looks at me, eyes wide, her spoon in mid-scoop . “What’s in this? I mean, besides unicorn tears ?” I shrug. “Beets, cabbage, onion. A little sour cream .” She picks up the bowl and pours the remainder directly into her mouth. “It’s amazing .” With the soup finished, she tucks into her sandwich – smoked salmon on black bread. Her eyes roll in ecstasy . “This is incredible,” she says through a mouthful of food. “I mean it. Absolutely delicious .” “You must not get out much,” I say, but inwardly I’m preening at the compliment . She finishes the sandwich and wipes her mouth on

a napkin . “You should open a restaurant,” she says. “I mean, if you wanted to give up this rich hermit life and work all day for almost no money .” I grin. “I like to cook .” “Well, that’s perfect,” she says. “Because I like to eat .” “A match made in heaven, then .” We sit in comfortable silence for a while as the dogs eye Storm’s empty bowl with naked curiosity. On an impulse, I put it on the floor and say: “Take it .” They rush to it and start lapping up the meager remains with their huge tongues . Storm smiles. “I knew deep down you were really a big softy .” A big softy? I’ve been called many things in my life, by many people, but never that . What scares me is that I may actually be turning into one – at least when I’m with her .

Chapter Thirty-Four 6 . STORM Samson and Delilah snore softly beside each other on the rug in my room. They’ve finally stopped following me everywhere I go in the house, which I guess that means they’re used to me. It makes me feel a little more at home . I know this isn’t really my home, but it’s as close to one as I have right now. And Nick is the only person I can count on. What does it say about me, about my life, that the one person I trust in the whole world is someone I’ve known for less than two days ? Up here on the second floor are mostly guest quarters and sitting rooms, but there’s a big open area at the end of the west hallway that I’ve only seen in passing. Now, with Nick in town picking up groceries and the dogs napping, I decide to take a closer look . There’s no door on this particular room; it simply opens directly from the hallway and fills the entire floor space. All I can see of it from the hall is a

huge crystal chandelier that hangs in the exact center, and some antique chairs lining the far wall . Once inside, I recognize it immediately and my heart swells: it’s a music room! In the center at the far end is a low stage with a gorgeous square grand piano. I walk toward it as if in a dream; it’s in perfect condition, with a Brazilian rosewood finish and intricate curved legs carved in period patterns from the late 19th century. In the center of the wood above the keys is the word Hamlin . My pulse is racing. This is a genuine Mason & Hamlin square grand, probably circa 1885. I’ve only ever seen photos of one in a book. And here it is, in Nick’s house, of all places . I pull out the matching bench and take a seat at the keys, sucking down a deep breath before hitting a C chord. The sound is rich and elegant, but with an undertone of sharpness. It needs a good tuning, but you can’t argue with quality like this . God, it’s been so long since my fingers have touched the ebony and ivory keys. It feels so right, like coming home. My eyes close of their own accord as I run through a series of scales to warm up. Again, the sharpness, magnified by the incredible acoustics of the room, but it doesn’t

bother me. I’m playing . That’s all that matters . My scales eventually turn into Chopin’s Prelude No. 15 , also known as Raindrop . It’s a soft piece, but punctuated by strong notes that act as a counterpoint. I don’t know how long I play, or whether I finish the piece and start again. All I know is I’m transported by the sound, and that, for the first time in years, I’m feeling true joy . My mind registers hot tears spilling down my cheeks, but just barely. All of me is absorbed in the music, the sound of this room, the feel of the keys under my fingers and the pedals under my feet . Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, I stop. I know this sounds crazy, but I can almost feel an audience in the room with me, absorbing what they just heard . The crisp sound of clapping breaks the silence, startling me so badly I almost wet myself. I turn to see Nick standing in the hallway, staring at me intently with red-rimmed eyes. Was he – was he actually crying ? “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you .” I smile sheepishly. “How long have you been standing there ?”

“Long enough to realize you’re an incredible musician. Storm, that was absolutely mesmerizing .” Hot blood warms my cheeks as I stand and walk off the stage . “I haven’t played in years,” I say. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. This piano is a work of art .” “It is ?” I goggle at him. “Seriously? You don’t know that ?” “I don’t know anything about it,” he says with a shrug. “It came with the house. I think I’ve been in this room twice in the whole time I’ve owned it .” “It’s a 19th century Mason & Hamlin square grand! In perfect original condition !” He raises his eyebrows. “And ?” I shake my head. “I can’t believe it! There are maybe a dozen of these in the whole country in this kind of shape. I bet it’s worth a hundred grand, easy. There are collectors across America who’d do anything to get their hands on this .” “Huh,” he says thoughtfully .

His response is ridiculous, and yet so utterly Nick that I can’t help but laugh . He smiles. “Good thing I have you to tell me these things. Maybe I’ll hire you as my antique appraiser .” “Sorry,” I shrug. “I only know pianos .” “How did you learn to play like that ?” My stomach clenches at the memory. “We – we had a piano when I was growing up. I took lessons. But I got bored with it .” The piano was actually repossessed when my parents lost everything, but I’m not interested in talking about that. Don’t ask, don’t tell . “I hope you’ll play for me again,” Nick says . I smile. “I’d like that. This is the perfect room for it. But the Hamlin really needs a good tuning .” “Well, then,” he says, reaching into the bag on the floor at his feet. “You’d better find a piano tuner .” He hands me a small, white box with the words iPhone X on the side. My eyes go wide as I open it .

“This is – is this what I think it is ?” He frowns. “I don’t know. I asked the kid at the store to give me the best cell phone he had .” “These things are a thousand dollars !” “Is that a lot ?” I gape at him, shaking my head. “It’s the best phone on the market .” “Then, what’s the big deal? They gave me what I asked for. The kid activated it for me in the store, so you should be able to do whatever you need to on it .” He’s done it again. I’ve never known such kindness; I don’t know how to deal with it . “Thank you,” I say for the umpteenth time since he found me . He nods. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it. Just don’t go taking pictures of yourself all over the house, okay ?” I giggle. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee anything .” He reaches into the bag and pulls out another box

and hands it to me. It’s another iPhone, identical to mine except black instead of white . “Can you set this one up too while you’re at it ?” “What do I need a second one for?” I ask stupidly . “It’s for me,” he says. “Just in case – you know, you ever need to reach me .” The embarrassment on his face is so sweet it makes my heart melt. He got a phone just so he could stay in touch with me. The realization sends a tingle through me below the waist, but I quickly will it away. We’ve been down that road, and he doesn’t want to go there . Besides, I wouldn’t even know what to do if he did . “Okay,” I say, taking the box. “I’ll set us up with each other’s number as first in our contacts. Sound good ?” “I don’t need any other contacts,” he says simply . Steady, girl. Don’t give in to impulse. The tingle will go away . “So what fabulous meal are you going to make me

for supper tonight?” I ask, trying to avoid eye contact . “Stroganoff,” he says . “Oh, hey,” I stammer. “I was just kidding. You don’t have to –” “I want to. I told you, I enjoy cooking for people. For you .” I shake my head inwardly. What did I do to deserve this guy? Sometimes I think I must be in a dream, that I’m really at the bottom of the ocean having some final crazy vision before I drown . “Okay,” I say. “What can I do to help ?” “You can call that piano tuner,” he says. “Because I can’t wait to hear you play again .”

Chapter Thirty-Five 7 . NICK “You’re a natural,” I say as Storm pinches the dough closed around the wad of potato-and-onion mixture . “You’re just saying that,” she sighs. “I’m wrecking these .” “There’s an art to making piroghis. Just like playing piano. It takes time .” I take the dozen little dumplings she’s made and toss them into the boiling water. Then I stir a spoonful of sour cream into the stroganoff before turning off the heat. It needs to sit and settle while the flavors blend before I serve it, which will give me time to boil and fry the piroghis . “So,” Storm says, taking a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island. “I may be out in left field here, but I have this crazy feeling that you might be Russian .” I give her a look of mock surprise .

“Whatever gave you that idea, comrade?” I say in an accent I spent years trying to rid myself of. It sounds ridiculous to my own ears now . “Well, holy shit!” Storm giggles. “Nick finally makes a joke !” As always, her laughter makes me feel lighter . “Technically, it’s Nikolai,” I say, careful to avoid my last name. I doubt she’d recognize it, but we have a policy, don’t we ? “I suspected as much,” she says with a nod. “There’s just a tiny hint of an accent in your normal voice. Like when the American actors on Game of Thrones try to sound British. It’s not something you can put your finger on, but there’s just something a little bit different about it .” “You’re one to talk about accents, Arkansas .” She claps her hands together with a grin. “Two in a row! Bravo !” If you had told me a week ago that I’d be laughing and making jokes with a beautiful young woman, I would have stared at you grimly until you went away. Now here I am, bantering like a kid on his first date .

Then I push it too far . “You know,” I say in a comically thick accent, “in Soviet Russia, president assassinates you ! ” Storms blinks at me, uncomprehending . “Uh,” I mutter. “That was a Yakov Smirnoff joke .” She gives me a sympathetic smile – emphasis on the pathetic . “Sorry, I don’t know who that is .” What are you doing, old man? She’s a child. Of course she doesn’t know who Yakov Smirnoff is! She was born in the ‘90s, not the ‘70s ! The piroghis thankfully choose that moment to boil over onto the stovetop, so I take advantage of the distraction to drop them into the cast iron pan with some butter and onion . “Can I help?” Storm asks. “I want to finish off what I started .” “Of course.” Her hand brushes mine as she takes the wooden spoon from me. “It’s best to keep them moving so that the dough doesn’t brown too much .”

“Why bother frying them?” she asks as she stirs. “Everything is already cooked .” I shrug. “Not everyone does, but this is how my baba made them .” “What’s a baba ? ” “Grandmother. My mother’s mother. I never knew my father’s .” “I never knew any of my grandparents,” she says quietly, looking at the pan . “That’s a shame. My baba taught me a lot when I was young .” “Did she come to America with you ?” I hesitate. “No. She died right before we emigrated .” In fact, she was murdered by the last remnants of the KGB before we fled under cover of darkness. But that information definitely falls under the “don’t tell” policy . “How old were you?” Storm asks. “When you came here ?” “Seventeen. It was right after the breakup of the

Soviet Union .” She nods and turns off the burner. “I think these are done. Yeah, we learned about the U.S.S.R. in school .” I glance at the piroghis ; she’s right, they’re perfectly golden brown . “You really are a natural,” I say. “Time to eat .” We dish up – Storm takes even more than I do, which is understandable, given how little she’s eaten since she got here – and take a seat at the kitchen dinette. It occurs to me as we do that I’ve never actually eaten in the formal dining room. The very thought of a lone person eating in something so large and ornate seems ridiculous . Suddenly, living in this cavernous mansion alone seems ridiculous . “So why did you leave?” she asks, forking her first piroghi into her mouth. Then her eyes almost bulge out of her head. “Holy shit, these are good !” “I told you, you’re a natural .” She grins through the food. “Thanks. But let’s get back to the subject. I really want to know how you

ended up in America .” I’m violating our agreement here, but some part of me also wants her to know more about me. Not everything – that’s the last thing I would ever want – but some . “The union was in chaos back then; everywhere there were republics splitting off and fighting for independence .” That much is true . “My father realized that there were a lot more opportunities in America .” That’s also true. I won’t talk about what kinds of opportunities . Storm takes her first bite of stroganoff and almost melts into her chair . “This is so freaking good ,” she moans. “If you keep feeding me like this, I’m going to be huge .” I grin. “There’s an old Russian saying: better to see it shake than hear it rattle .” She snorts through her nose and almost spits out her food .

“You’re making that up!” she blurts after swallowing . “Russian men like women we can hold onto,” I say, grabbing handfuls of air . “Stop!” she cries, holding her next forkful of beef and noodles just outside her mouth. “I’m going to choke !” I give in and let her chew unmolested. Look at me, making someone laugh so hard that they can’t eat. My mother would be proud of me . I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if she’d been around more after we came here. Perhaps I wouldn’t have ended up so much like my father . Storm finishes a few more mouthfuls before picking up the conversation . “I’m learning way more about Russia from you than I did in that class,” she says. “What more can you tell me ?” For a moment, I think about making another joke, but for some reason it seems more appropriate to be honest with her .

“Life under Soviet rule was shit,” I say simply. “No freedom, no choice. You were told what to do, and if you didn’t like it, tough. Americans don’t realize how good they have it .” A shadow crosses her face as she scoops up the last of her stroganoff . “Not all of us have it good,” she says quietly . Those few words tell me more about what led her here to me than anything she’s said so far. For the first time in many years, I feel the undeniable urge to touch another human being. My hand reaches out and settles on top of hers, feeling her warmth, the velvety smoothness of her young skin . “You’re here now,” I say. “With someone who can keep you safe. That’s what matters; not what came before. Just here and now. Deal ?” Time stops as her eyes meet mine and she places her other palm on top of mine, sandwiching my hand between hers. Neither of us blinks . After long seconds, she leans forward and presses her moist lips against mine again, sparking a lightning bolt through my heart. I can taste the tang of the stroganoff as our tongues meet. It’s a tentative greeting, like our encounter in the dojo –

two acquaintances saying an awkward hello. But it’s heaven nonetheless . She pulls away finally, letting go of my hand as she does. But her eyes are still locked on mine . “Just here and now,” she says softly. “Deal .”

Chapter Thirty-Six 8 . STORM “Storm…” Nick begins, but I place a finger against his lips . “Shhh,” I soothe. “I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do .” I rise from my chair and slide over to his. My stomach is in knots – I haven’t done anything like this since I was with Brian Sorensen in high school, and even then it was only because it was the thing teenage couples were expected to do. It was about fitting in, being normal , like all the other kids . Now, none of this is even remotely close to normal, and I don’t care . “But…” he breathes . “No buts .” I can read his mind: he thinks I feel obligated to do this in return for everything he’s done for me. The ironic thing is that’s exactly what Arkady did expect from me – hell, what he demanded from me.

And it was the last thing on earth I wanted to do with him . Nick hasn’t asked for anything in return, and that’s why I want this so much. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but I know that I want to do it. That I want to touch him, feel his skin against mine. To let him know how safe I feel with him. How cared for . The cherry on top is that he’s so fucking hot . That jet-black hair. Those smoky, smoldering eyes. That deadly body that looks more like it was chiseled by a sculptor than molded in a gym. Even if we’d only passed on the street instead of everything else that’s happened between us, I would have stopped and dropped my sunglasses to get a better look. He has to have noticed me staring at him at least half a dozen times since I’ve been here . I straddle him on the chair and wrap my arms around his thick neck, laying another slow, wet kiss on his lips. This time he responds more strongly and clasps his own powerful arms around my torso, so that my breasts are mashed against his heaving chest . My heart is hammering inside me, and the delicious, warm ache between my legs is undeniable. There’s no way I could ignore the steel

hardness of his shaft through the thin lycra of my yoga pants. My hips respond on their own, independent of my conscious mind, grinding back and forth against him . “Storm,” he sighs as his lips break away from mine and find the curve of my throat. His tongue is fire against the delicate skin there, making me clutch him even closer . “Nikolai,” I whisper in his ear. “That’s sooo good .” A moment later I feel his hands under my shirt, deftly unhooking my bra. His palms are warm and rough as he slides them up and over my breasts, making my already stiff nipples ache even more. Hands that can splinter wood with their powerful strikes roam across my skin so gently that it makes me shiver . Nick is the first person to ever touch me so intimately. The thought makes my hips grind even harder against his erection, sending an unstoppable thrill up through my core . “Oh, God,” I pant in his ear as my orgasm starts. It’s already beyond my control. Then his hot tongue hits my nipple and I’m gripping his shoulders with my nails, bucking against him, riding the wave as it lifts me up, shuddering in ecstasy for the first time

with a man . And that man is Nick . The electric current takes over my entire body, shaking me with undeniable passion until I’ve lost all control over myself. The world consists of nothing but Nick’s body and mine, together, linked in a way I’ve never known before. A way I never understood was possible . For one brief, shining moment, my life is pure pleasure, and I savor every single last drop of it as I ride the wave until the very end . As the sensation ebbs, I feel naked and embarrassed and sexy and connected , all at once. My chest is heaving against his, exhausted and exhilarated. His grip on me hasn’t eased one iota since we started, letting me know that everything is okay, that I’m safe with him, no matter what happens . Our mouths meet again, more gently this time. Familiar now. A coda to the symphony of sensuality I just experienced . “That was so…” I sigh. “So …” “Intense,” he finishes for me, his breathing labored

but steady. “For me, too .” My eyes widen. “Did you …?” “It’s – it’s been a long time,” he says with a sheepish grin. “Sorry .” I grasp his neck and bury my face in his throat . “It was my first with a man,” I whisper. “And it was incredible .” He’s quiet for a few moments before saying: “How can that be? You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve met in years .” I hug him fiercely. I know what he’s trying to say, and it’s so sweet it makes me want to just crawl inside his clothes and hold him like this forever . “No questions,” I whisper. “Remember ?” He nods, his breathing somewhat under control again . We stay like that for a long while – me still straddling him, our arms around each other, each face buried in the other’s neck . “We should do something,” I suggest finally .

“I should – uh, clean up,” Nick says . “Okay. While you do that, I’ll clean up supper. It’s the least I can do .” I pout a bit as I slide off of him, then grip the edge of the table to steady myself. My legs are like the egg noodles in the stroganoff right now . As he walks toward the doorway of the kitchen, I take his arm gently . “We’re still good,” I say hopefully. “Right ?” His palm glides across my cheek a moment before his lips part mine for a final kiss, making my rubbery legs feel more like water . “We’re more than good,” he says, touching his forehead to mine. “And we’re going to get even better, if we give it time .” “Time,” I grin. “Absolutely .” He smiles and strides into the hallway as I start searching the cabinets for Tupperware containers for our leftovers . It takes me almost a full minute to realize I’m humming Chopin’s Prelude No. 15 .

Chapter Thirty-Seven 9 . STORM “You can’t be serious .” “You have a license, right?” he asks . “Well, sure,” I say, eyes wide. “But this – I mean, I can’t .” He shrugs. “Sure you can. Take your pick and let’s go .” We’re in the huge garage that used to be a carriage house on the west side of the house. In front of us on the concrete floor is a mini-museum of nine classic American muscle cars, each one in pristine shape, like the Hamlin piano in the music room . All I did was ask to go into town with him today. Now he’s telling me to choose which of these rolling bank vaults I want to drive on the trip ! “Did they come with the house?” I joke as I wander through the garage. I’m not a car buff, but I do recognize the vintage 1950s Cadillac. It’s the kind Elvis used to love so much .

Nick shakes his head. “I restored them .” “Really? That’s amazing !” “I have a lot of money and a lot of time on my hands,” he says. “When I’m not saving damsels in distress, that is .” I grin and hold up three fingers. “Another one! Keep ‘em coming, funny man .” I learned to drive in my mom’s beat-up Toyota Tercel, which was about half the size of most of the cars in here. I bet they have engines to match. Finally my eyes settle on something more my size, a little two-seater convertible in gorgeous candyapply red . “This one is perfect,” I say. “Can we take it ?” “You can drive a stick ?” I roll my eyes. “Why does every guy just assume a girl can’t drive a standard? You probably don’t think I can parallel park, either .” His eyebrows go up . “Yes, I can parallel park, smart guy!” I snap. “And I can drive this thing, too !”

He smiles and grabs a set of heavy-looking keys from a pegboard on the wall. He tosses them to me and makes his way to the passenger side of the convertible . “All right, Danica Patrick,” he says, getting in. “Let’s go .” I return the smirk as I open my door. “You know who Danica Patrick is,” I muse. “Maybe you’re not as old as you look .” “I’m old enough to put you over my knee,” he says with mock gravity . I push in the clutch and spark the engine. It has the deep, throaty growl of a tiger on a leash, despite the tiny size of the car, and suddenly I wonder if I made the right choice . “Promises, promises,” I grin, putting it into gear and pulling into the circular driveway . The engine purrs even louder, like an animal that senses freedom. Nick hits the button on the garage door opener clipped to the sun visor and the door slides shut behind us. He looks at me again, eyebrows up . “You’re sure?” he asks one last time .

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride,” I say, dropping his aviator sunglasses over my eyes . The tires squeal as I pop the clutch and hit the gas, and for a full five seconds I’m absolutely positive I’m going to drive straight into the iron gate at the end of the driveway. The car roars to life and covers 100 yards in the blink of an eye before I cram in the clutch and slam on the brake pedal . “Okay,” I pant, hoping I haven’t wet myself. “What the hell, Nick ?” He shocks me by biting his lip . “I meant to tell you,” he says. His voice is trembling, like he’s about to bust out laughing. “This is a 1968 Corvette Stingray with a big-block V8. Basically it’s a jet engine with a Fiberglass shell sitting on it .” So much for our leisurely drive . “Very funny,” I say. “Are any of the other beasts in that garage easier to drive ?” He gives me a quizzical look. “Why do you ask? I though you did great. Now that you’re used to it, let’s go .”

A wave of his watch over the sensor pad on the stone wall and the gate opens, as if by magic. Part of me wonders if this is another attempt at a joke . “Are you serious?” I say. “I almost killed us !” “But you didn’t. So let’s go .” I blink at him a few times before determining that yes, he’s being serious. As I spark the rumbling engine again, my heart beats faster. I can’t tell if it’s from terror or excitement – probably both . “You’re sure?” I ask before putting it in gear . “I’m sure .” He pulls another pair of shades from the Corvette’s glove box and puts them on, then looks at me. His confidence in me is so foreign that he might as well be speaking another language. No one has ever thought I was capable of anything except playing the piano. I’ve never felt trust like he’s showing me right now . The feeling is… indescribable . “Something wrong?” he asks . “Not a thing,” I say, gripping the leather-bound

steering wheel and gunning the engine. “Let’s ride .”

Chapter Thirty-Eight 1 0. STORM A silver bell above the door announces us as Nick and I walk into Ellie’s Deli, a quaint little shop on Main Street. Like the other storefronts in town, it’s somehow historic and yet in perfect shape at the same time. I suppose the Chamber of Commerce recognizes that tourists come here for the charm, since the town doesn’t offer much in the way of beaches . A middle-aged woman with short white hair and glasses behind the counter brighten as she sees us . “Well, slap my tits and call me Sally!” she hoots. “Nick! How’ve you been ?” I like this woman already . Nick grins sheepishly. “I’m fine, Ellie. How’s things ?” “Peachy keen,” she says, lowering her glasses and giving me the once-over. “And who’s your friend ?”

Without thinking, I open my mouth to say my real name. Luckily, Nick speaks first . “This is Storm,” he says, and I realize with a dart of adrenaline how close I came to making a big mistake . Ellie takes my offered hand across the glass counter that holds a vast array of meats and cheeses . “Pleasure,” she smiles. “Any friend of Nick’s is a friend of mine .” I smile back. “Thank you, that’s very kind .” “So how do you two know each other?” she asks. It’s a perfectly normal question and I realize I don’t have an answer for it . “She’s my antiques assessor,” Nick says without looking up from the rack of smoked meats he’s been perusing. “Apparently that old piano that came with my house is worth six figures .” He lies like a pro. For the hundredth time since we met, I find myself wondering about his past. What led him from Russian immigrant to living alone in that vast mansion on the cliffs? So many questions . Then again, he probably has just as many about me

. “Is that so?” Ellie says, eyebrows rising. “Gonna get rid of some of those museum pieces, are you? Or are you just updating your insurance ?” Nick joins us at the counter. “I don’t need even a tenth of what I have in that house,” he says casually. “I really should auction the rest off .” Ellie nods. “Well, you know the Rotary Club is here to help you in any way we can,” she says. “I might even buy a few pieces myself .” He shakes his head. “If you want something, just let me know, it’s yours .” Her grin is as affectionate as a grandmother’s. “What am I going to do with you, Nick?” she says. Then she turns her gaze to me. “Nick here has a reputation for generosity, in case you didn’t know. I’d bet my bottom dollar that whatever he gets for his antiques will go to charity, so estimate high, okay ?” “Ellie…” Nick says, frowning . “Let the woman talk, Nick,” I say in the familiar tone of a significant other. He thrills me by smiling .

“Nick is all swagger and no steel,” Ellie chuckles. “He may look like Josh Brolin after someone ran over his dog, but he’s got a heart of gold. Town council wanted to name a park after him, but he said no .” I goggle at him, smiling. “Seriously ?” His crimson cheeks are begging me to change the subject, but I’m having too much fun . “Yes, indeed,” says Ellie. “Doesn’t surprise me that he didn’t tell you anything about himself, though. This one wouldn’t say shit if he had a mouth full of it. Although we all had a good time last year at the Rotary Christmas shindig, didn’t we ?” Nick avoids both our gazes like a shameful dog . “I suppose we did,” he concedes . Ellie flashes me a wide grin. “He was at a table with me and Frank – that’s my hubby – and the rest of the board members. Get a few drinks into Nick and he’s almost tolerable .” Nick manages to smile and frown at the same time, and it makes me want to giggle like a loon . “You don’t make it easy for a guy to keep up a

reputation, Ellie,” he gripes . “Oh, please,” she says with a dismissive wave. “You’re not scaring anyone with your tough loner act. Just give it up .” “Yeah, Nick,” I say, grinning. “Give it up .” He shakes his head. “That does it,” he says with a sigh. “I’m outta here, Ell. You only have yourself to blame .” “Well, I’m going to buy something,” I say . The grin he flashes me is maddeningly smug, and I suddenly realize why: I don’t even have a wallet, let alone any cash . “Are you really?” he asks . “Yes,” I say, not missing a beat. My extended hand is an unspoken demand for money . The look on his face is priceless – he didn’t expect me to call his bluff like that. He pulls out his wallet and silently hands me three fifties . “Thank you,” I say sweetly. “I’m going to stay here and talk to Ellie for a while longer. Meet you back at the car ?”

He blinks at me. Looks at Ellie, then back at me. Ellie makes a shooing motion with her hand. “You heard the girl .” “Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll be at Murphy’s having a beer .” The bell over the door jingles again as he walks back onto the sun-drenched street and heads south to the pub . “I don’t know what the deal is with the two of you,” Ellie says as we watch him disappear. “And I’m not going to ask. But whatever it is, I hope you keep it up .” I cock my head. “Why do you say that ?” “Honey, I’ve known Nick for fifteen years or more, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you .” My heart skips a beat at that, and I feel a glimmer of hope blossoming somewhere deep inside me. But it’s fragile, something that I don’t want to bring into the light, not just yet. After all, my life to this point has been a long, miserable string of disappointments . Do I dare hope for a future with Nick ?

“So he’s not big with the ladies?” I ask, trying to sound casual . “He’s not anything with the ladies,” she says simply. “You’re the first one I’ve ever seen him with .” My heart skips another beat. A man who looks like him, with all his money, has never been seen with a woman ? “That – surprises me,” I manage to say . Ellie’s expression darkens and she sighs. “I think his wife’s death hit him terribly hard,” she says. “When he first came here, he’d talk about her now and then. But he hasn’t mentioned her in years .” His wife ? “I never understood why he bought that huge place,” she continues. “Poor woman never even got to live in it. She was in the hospital for months before she finally passed .” She must be able to read the expression on my face, because she says: “He hasn’t told you any of this, has he ?” “No,” I say through numb lips .

She smiles sympathetically. “I’m sorry, honey, I shouldn’t have talked about things that aren’t my business. I’m sure he’ll bring it up in his own time .” She’s right; I was just a bit surprised by the fact he’d been married before. I don’t even know Nick’s last name yet; why would he have told me about his wife ? Like he said, we have time . Keep telling yourself that, “Storm.” Maybe you’ll believe it one day .

Chapter Thirty-Nine 1 1. NICK Finn, the guy who owns and runs Murphy’s, is a bit paunchy, in his 60s, and is about as Irish as I am. He changed his name at some point in the past, but just as Storm did with me, I detected the faint hint of his accent the first time we shook hands years ago . Like the piroghis we had with dinner last night, Finn is originally from Ukraine. And, just like Storm, I’ve never asked him about his past. He returns the favor, but I’m sure he knows a lot more about me than he lets on. He may not talk a lot, but, like all truly good bartenders, he’s an excellent listener. Over the years, we’ve developed a mutually beneficial relationship . He starts drawing me a Miller Lite as soon as he sees me in the doorway, so that it’s ready when I sit down at the bar. The place is empty at this hour of the afternoon on a Tuesday, but trade will pick up after five o’clock, when the locals get off work. Murphy’s isn’t on any tourist’s list of places to visit – no artisanal craft lagers, no avocado toast, just

domestic beer on tap and pickled eggs in a jar – which suits Finn just fine . “Nicky,” he says, setting the sweating glass in front of me. “Been awhile .” I nod. “How’s things, Finn ?” “Living the dream, like always,” he deadpans, sweeping a hand at the dank, empty bar . I chuckle. Finn’s one of the few people who can make me laugh . We chat about baseball – Finn is a diehard Mets fan, poor sap – and other meaningless bullshit for a while as I sip my beer. It’s a ritual with us. Then, after we’ve chewed the fat for a while, Finn will discreetly bring up… other subjects . “Did I see you walkin’ down the street with a girl earlier?” he asks casually. Dipping a toe in the water, ready to pull it back if it’s too cold . “You did,” I say, performing my part of the play. “She’s new in town .” “Izzat right? Pretty gal .” I raise my glass to him and take a long pull. “She

sure is .” “She from around here? I never seen her before .” “No.” He nods. “I was just wonderin’ is all. Heard somebody was looking for a young blonde, thought maybe it was her .” This is what I came in for. “Huh,” I say. “Where’s this blonde from ?” “Jersey, I heard .” “My girl’s from Arkansas,” I say mildly . “Nice place, Arkansas,” he says, pulling the towel from his shoulder and mopping the puddle my glass has left on the bar. “Bill Clinton’s from there. Good Democrat .” I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes; sometimes Finn works a little too hard at playing the IrishAmerican stereotype . “So who was looking for this blonde?” I ask. “Just in case I see her .” He screws up his face, as if having trouble remembering .

“Some guy with an accent,” he says. “Eastern European, I think .” Shit. “Didn’t catch a name, did you ?” He glances around the room before leaning closer . “Can’t quite remember, exactly,” he says quietly. “Started with a V .” Volkov. Christ . Well, at least now I know . “Huh,” I say before draining the last of my beer. “You know, if you hear anybody talking about this again, maybe send them out my way .” Finn cocks an eyebrow. “You sure about that? I mean, you’re not exactly known for having company .” “No, but we Russians need to help each other out. You know, like you Irish always do .” He grins, obviously confused, and shrugs . “Whatever you say, Nicky .”

I slide a hundred across the bar and he tucks it into his apron . “Good talking to you, Finn .” “You too, buddy,” he says. As an afterthought, he adds: “Take care of yourself, huh ?” I flash him a cold grin as I head for the door. “Don’t worry about me .” The sun is blinding as I emerge from the dank of the pub onto the street. When my pupils finally widen, I see Storm, her butt propped on the Vette’s hood. She’s holding a bag from Ellie’s . She grins under my aviators as she catches sight of me . “I got stuff for supper tonight!” she says . I return her smile. “Perfect. And I’m sure you got an earful from Ellie, too .” “Just a little bit,” she says as she opens the driver’s side door and tosses the bag in the back. “She really cares about you, Nick .” I nod and sit down in the passenger seat. “I like her, too,” I say. “I’m just not great at showing it. You

know me – I’m not exactly a social butterfly .” “Well, you better learn how to be one pretty quick,” she says, firing up the engine . I frown at her. “Why do you say that ?” “Because I just invited Ellie and some others to the house for a dinner party on Friday .” She drops the car into first and peels off down Main Street, the thunderous rumble of the big block drowning out my shouts of protest .

Chapter Forty 1 2. STORM Luckily for me, the drive back to the house seems to have taken Nick’s mind off my dinner party ambush. Maybe he’s warming to the idea, or maybe he was too busy fearing for his life on those hairpin turns to think about it . Did I mention I love driving this Corvette ? The sun is still high and hot in the clear blue sky. By the time we pull into the garage, my back is glued to the leather seat with slick sweat. Nick’s own black T-shirt is seriously damp as well as he climbs out of the car . “Are you still mad?” I say coquettishly, plucking the bag from Ellie’s out of the back . A moment later, Samson and Delilah come bounding across the grounds from wherever they’d been napping in the back gardens. They come to a halt at our feet and sit, tails wagging, until each of us picks a dog and indulges them with a scratch . Nick sighs and shakes his head. “I was never mad,”

he says. “Just – a little warning would have been nice .” “You know full well you would have said no if I’d given you a choice .” He frowns at me for a moment before giving in and chuckling . “You’re right,” he says. “I would have .” “We can still call it off. I just thought that Ellie was so nice, and you’re such a good cook, and she was talking about all the people in town who like you …” Nick takes me by the arms and looks me in the eyes. His warm touch makes my skin tingle . “I’m fine with it,” he says. “In fact, I’m glad you did it .” “Really?” I grin . “Yeah. Ellie’s right, I should stop being such a stick in the mud .” I reach up and grasp his elbows. We stand there in silence for a few moments, gazing at each other . “You’re not a stick in the mud,” I say .

“Well, thank you. My bartender Finn would probably agree with you .” “I think you’ve just been lonely .” It’s presumptuous of me to say that, I know. But finding out about his wife has opened a new window into Nick’s heart for me. Even though we’ve only known each other a few days, I’m sure I’m right. I don’t know how I know; it’s just something I feel, deep down in my core . He stares at me with those steely eyes for so long that it becomes uncomfortable, and doubt starts to gnaw at me. Have I just pole-vaulted over the line we’ve drawn ? “I’m not lonely anymore,” he says finally. “Thanks to you .” My heart melts yet again, and I’m overcome with a sudden urge . “It’s too hot,” I say, pulling my sweat-clingy top away from my back. “I’ve been eyeing that amazing pool out back since I got here. Want to join me ?” “Sure,” he says. “We Russians don’t do so well in

this heat. Although, to be honest, I never swim in the pool. I prefer the ocean .” “I’m not too keen on swimming in the Atlantic any time soon,” I say with a shiver . He nods his understanding. I love that he never makes me explain anything . We walk through the garage door into the kitchen and I drop the bag of groceries on the counter. The Olympic-sized pool, surrounded by high hedges and statuary, is on the other side of the kitchen, accessible through a set of French doors . This is all new to me, but I can’t fight the feelings that are threatening to bust out of me. I touch my index fingertip to my lips in an effort to look flirtatious. I hope it works . “I just realized,” I breathe. “I don’t have a bathing suit .” “Oh,” Nick says, surprised. “Yeah, I guess not. We can go back into town …” “Or not,” I say, turning and heading toward the French doors . As I do, I pull my top over my head and unhook my

bra. My breasts sigh with delight as they’re freed from their sweaty bondage. I turn back to face Nick, my eyebrows raised . “Coming?” The hungry look he gives me makes my nipples so stiff, it feels like they’re going to pop. An instant later, his own shirt is in a puddle on the kitchen floor . I giggle and take his hand as we walk the twentyor-so yards to the pool deck. Once there, I shimmy out of my shorts and panties, and suddenly I’m standing naked in front of a man for the first time in my life. The sun kisses my skin with its warmth, and instead of being embarrassed, I realize I feel entirely comfortable . Nick’s eyes roam over my body and then back to my eyes, making me so horny I almost feel faint. The heat between my legs is delicious, begging to be touched . “No fair,” I say, grabbing his belt. “You can see me but I can’t see you .” My lack of shame is almost shocking. Desire is trumping everything right now, and I’ve never felt so in control of my life, and yet so out of control at

the same time. I want to come, and I want to make Nick come, and nothing is going to get in my way . The thin cloth of his boxers can barely contain the bulging steel underneath as I yank his jeans down and he steps out of them . “Almost there,” I grin . Without warning, he grabs my arms and pulls me to him. I meet his open mouth with my own, matching his intensity and hunger. I want this as much as he does, maybe more – I can feel it in his probing tongue, in his powerful grip . He lets go of me for just a moment to slide off his shorts, his lips never leaving mine. I’m the one who finally breaks contact. As much as I want to keep kissing him, I want to see him fully naked even more . The sight of him makes me weak – muscle and sinew straining against the paper-thin skin of his arms, those somehow sinister tattoos across his chiseled torso, legs like tree trunks. And in the center of it all, that huge, throbbing staff, so much bigger than I’d imagined when I was grinding against it the other night . He moans as I reach down and grab him by his

manhood, tugging him toward the pool and its cooling waters with me. It makes me feel powerful and in control, like I’m leading a mountain lion on a leash . We reach the edge of the pool, Nick standing behind me as I face the water. Sunlight dapples the surface as he slides his cock deeper into my hand and reaches around to massage my breasts. I squeeze him reflexively as the shiver runs through me at the touch of his rough fingers . “Baby,” I sigh, not even realizing what I’m saying. “Don’t stop .” My insides flutter as his hands leave my breasts and glide down my belly. I want so much for him to touch me down there that I feel a mist of dampness in my cleft before he even reaches my mound. My hand works independently of my brain, massaging his cock in time with the movements of his hips . “Solnishko,” he breathes into my ear just as his fingers find my opening. The combination almost makes me stumble into the pool . “What does that mean?” I hear myself pant . “My sunshine.” His lips touch my earlobes as he says it .

Okay, that’s it, game over. I press my hand on top of his against my mound as I feel the vibration starting to rise from my core. Nick grabs me tightly with his free arm, holding me as easily as he would a rag doll as my body goes limp with uncontrollable pleasure . I can’t hold it in anymore. My throat opens and I scream as the electric current reaches into every square inch of me, making me quiver and tremble with ecstasy. I silently thank God that we’re miles from the nearest neighbors . Nick holds me as the waves subside and I catch my breath, my grip never leaving his hard cock. I’m holding onto it like it’s a life preserver or something, and he’s throbbing in my hand as if to say that’s quite all right with him . He puts his lips to my ear again. “You’re so beautiful. Like an angel .” My belly flutters as his hands roam across me again, and I can feel the beginnings of another pleasure wave at the outer edges already . “But we need to make this last,” he whispers . Next thing I know, my feet are off the pool deck as he sweeps me into his arms .

“Nick!” I squeal, knowing what will happen next. A moment later and we’re both submerged in the cool, clear pool water . The contrast of the temperatures against my skin brings out a sheen of goosebumps, and my nipples stiffen even more, almost painfully. In front of me, I see Nick emerge, waist deep in the water, droplets beading on his taut skin and catching the sun, like diamonds . I look down and see the tip of his erection peeking out above the surface . “My turn,” I growl, grabbing his arms and pushing him back into the shallower end, exposing more of him with each step until the water is just above his knees . The look of surprise on his face sends another jolt through me: he wasn’t expecting his little sunshine to be so aggressive. But he should have known better – he’s the one who named me Storm, after all . I lower myself so that my naked ass is sitting on the tiled bottom of the pool and my legs are splayed out on either side of Nick’s. I’m at the perfect height to finally say an intimate hello to the body part that’s been the object of my obsession since we stripped

down in the kitchen . A guttural groan escapes Nick’s throat as my lips and tongue touch the tip of his shaft. It’s so soft, and yet so hard. The skin is hot and I can practically feel the blood roaring beneath the surface. It throbs in my hand as I stroke the base while continuing to lick the tip . I can’t go very far yet, but I take as much in as I can. The sound of his moans turns me on even more, if that’s possible, and my free hand reaches below the water to find the love button between my open legs. This is pure pleasure, pure passion, and I want to feel every last drop of it, for myself and for Nick . After long, delicious minutes, Nick reaches down and takes me by the shoulders . “I have an idea,” he says as I get to my feet, still keeping one hand firmly on his cock . “What’s that?” I say with grin . “Up here .” He leads me to the stairs that take us out of the water to the luxurious loungers that face this end of the pool. He lies back on one and pulls me down

with him, so that I’m lying on top of him . As I feel the tip of his erection slide against the opening of my slit, I have a moment of apprehension . “I – I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” I whisper. “Is that – okay ?” To my surprise, he flashes a wolf’s grin . “That’s fine,” he says. “We’re still going to finish this .” His steely arms push me off of him as he repositions his body underneath mine, leaving me straddling his face and staring at his bobbing shaft. A thrill runs through me at the intimacy of it, each of us looking at the most secret part of the other, eager to give and receive pleasure at the same time . The instant his tongue touches me down there, I know I won’t be able to hold back. He glides back and forth gently, kissing me softly, as I work his shaft with my hand. But it’s only a matter of seconds until I lose it . My tongue snakes around him passionately as I feel the wave building strength, knowing what he’ll

ultimately do to me, knowing I’ll absolutely collapse when it happens. I want him to feel the same way at the same time; I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life . “God, Nick, don’t stop,” I gasp . Nick responds by kissing harder, deeper, building the tension until he finally reaches the spot that makes me lose control. As I feel myself being swept along like a leaf in a raging river, I give him one final squeeze. He explodes just as I do, both of us trembling and moaning in pleasure in time with the symphony of our heartbeats, making music that only the two of us can hear and feel . *** W e lie on the lounger together, silently stroking each other. It’s a tenderness I’ve never felt before, and it’s almost overwhelming. I don’t want to break the silence, but I can’t help it – I’ve never done this before, and I have to know . “That was amazing,” I say tentatively. “Was it… you know, for you ?” Nick touches my chin and turns my face to his. Those intense steel eyes are softer than I’ve ever seen them before .

“It was incredible,” he whispers. “You are incredible .” It’s all I can do to keep myself from sobbing as he says the words. So many shitty years, so many shitty people in my life, so many shitty things that have happened. To be here, now, in his arms like this… it must be a dream . As if sensing that I’m about to lose it, Nick wraps his arms around me and the next thing I know, he’s standing with me, naked, in his arms, like some nudist groom about to carry his bride over the threshold . Except the threshold is the edge of the pool . “Don’t you dare – ” I warn, but I know it’s too late. A moment later and I’m in, surrounded by cool water that washes away any thought of tears . He cannonballs in beside me and we wrestle underwater for a few seconds before breaking the surface, laughing like a couple of kids .

Chapter Forty-One 1 3. NICK Samson and Delilah sense my visitors coming before they arrive. One moment the dogs are beside me in the gymnasium, the next they’re up and on their way to the front foyer, ears pricked up, in full working mode . A few seconds later, I hear the deep double chime of the front doorbell. It’s a sound I’ve heard maybe a dozen times in the past fifteen years. As I said, I don’t get many visitors here, and that’s how I like it. I drop the dumbbells I’ve been hoisting and throw on a T-shirt, my senses on alert, just like the dogs . “Is that the doorbell?” Storm calls from somewhere in the house. Judging by the faintness and the direction, she’s in the music room . “I’ve got it!” I call back, cupping a hand to my mouth to make sure she can hear me. Instinct – and a sneaking suspicion of who it might be – is telling me to keep her away from the door .

The dogs are sitting at attention to the right of the door, in the opening to the front room, as I arrive in the foyer. Through the six-foot windows in the sitting room to the left, I can see a black Range Rover parked in the circular driveway . Damn. I was hoping to have a little more time to prepare. Either a member of the Volkov family just happened to drop in at Murphy’s in the last couple of days, or there was a reward that Finn didn’t tell me about and he called them . Doesn’t matter – might as well get it over with. I don’t like pussyfooting around . I suck in a deep breath through my nose, letting it out through my mouth before grabbing the huge iron handle. The thick mahogany slab swings open to reveal three men and a woman, all in their twenties, standing on the marble pad at the top of the steps . Two of the men are tall and thick-necked, wearing dark street clothes. To their right is a young woman who’s built like a professional wrestler and has spiked hair dyed a fluorescent shade of green. Her red-rimmed eyes tag her as an amphetamine user, most likely meth . The third, in the center, is shorter, with a $300

hairstyle designed to make it look like he just got out of bed. He’s wearing the vest and pants of an expensive designer suit, but not the jacket, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbow, revealing ropy forearms covered in tattoos. His beard is much longer than mine, and blonde . He’d barely reached puberty the last time I saw him, but there’s no mistaking those eyes. Even if I didn’t recognize him, the stench of Sobranie cigarettes, and, of course, his tattoos, are more than enough to confirm my suspicions: this is Arkady Volkov, all grown up, and his little friends . A grin that would do a used car salesman proud spreads across his face as my eyes meet his. There’s nothing in his expression to indicate he recognizes me, though I’d be surprised if he did. He hasn’t seen me in almost twenty years, and I didn’t have a beard in those days . “Can I help you?” I ask, knowing full well what they’re here for . “I hope so,” Arkady says. No hint of an accent, despite his name and family, because he was born and raised in America. “We were wondering if you’d seen this young lady ?” He pulls a 5x7 photo from his vest pocket and holds

it up for me to see . It’s Storm’s face, and yet not her face. The haunted look in her eyes makes my stomach clench. She looks almost nothing like the woman who’s in my house right now, playing piano, oblivious to what’s going on outside the front door . She looks defeated. Hollow. Less , somehow . “Who is she?” I ask casually, deliberately not answering his question . Arkady’s grin widens. “She’s a friend of ours. Went missing from Long Beach up the coast here a little over a week ago. We’re really worried about her .” “Worried,” I say. “Really .” I see a flash of anger behind Arkady’s eyes, but his grin stays in place . “Frantic,” he says. “She went sailing in that wicked storm we had, and no one’s seen her since .” “Why would she go sailing in a storm ?” His smile falters a bit. “She was… upset. Had too much to drink at a party. Have you seen her ?” I suppose I’m not going to get any more of the story

out of him, and to be honest, I don’t really care. Time to end this . “We both know I’ve seen her,” I say evenly. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Just tell me how much she owes you and I’ll pay it. Then you can be on your way and we can all get on with our lives .” Arkady’s smile evaporates, and with it goes my notion of resolving this easily. I thought – hoped – that this was just a simple debt. Now I can see there are emotions involved . God damn it . “This isn’t about money,” Arkady says. “Like I said, she’s our friend, and we’re very worried about her .” “She’s fine. So, if you’re not looking for money, I guess you can go now .” His sudden scowl tells me everything I need to know about this new, grown-up Arkady: he doesn’t like being told what to do, or dismissed. That will actually work in my favor . To his right, I see the green-haired girl’s eyes light up. She pulls her hands from the pockets of her skin-tight jeans and shifts her weight subtly to the

balls of her feet. She’s positioning herself to move quickly . “Look, friend,” Arkady says. “This doesn’t have to get ugly. Just tell me where she is and that can be the end of it .” “That’s not going to happen,” I say. “But this is still the end of it. Just go on your way and forget my address .” I can practically smell the tension in the air now as all four of them start to fidget noticeably – no doubt they’re all regular drug users, the girl more so than the others. And I’m sure I’m not the only one who senses it . Arkady clears his throat. “I’m going to try to be patient with you,” he says. “You obviously don’t know who I am .” “I know who you are, boy ,” I say calmly, putting emphasis the last word. “Arkady Volkov. Son of Josef Volkov .” His face goes slack as his minions glance at each other in confusion . “Come now, Arkady,” I say. “You don’t recognize your Uncle Nikolai ?”

His only answer is the blood rising in his cheeks . “I guess not,” I continue. “Although I shouldn’t be surprised. You didn’t even have hair on your balls the last time we met.” “I look him up and down. “I assume you’ve grown some since then ?” “My father doesn’t have a brother!” he snaps with unmistakable contempt . It’s exactly the response I want. The worse he reacts, the easier it will be to end this . “Josef and I don’t share blood, it’s true,” I drawl. “But we were close as brothers, once. He’ll tell you the same himself .” Judging by his expression, this is too much for him to process. He shakes his head as if to clear it . “Look, old man,” he snarls. “I don’t care who you think you are. We’re going to search your house for the girl. Get out of the way .” I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head as I would to a child . “Little Arkady. Still a spoiled little vyperdysch .” His male companions both try to hide a smirk,

which confirms that they’re Russian. Vyperdysch literally translates as someone who was farted into being. It’s meant to describe a person who thinks he’s important but isn’t . Arkady looks confused instead of outraged. That means he never learned his mother tongue, which means Josef indulges his boy far too much. That gives me even more leverage . “I’m warning you,” he growls. “Move .” Enough of this. My glare is a clear warning to them all . “No, little boy,” I say coldly. “I’m warning you . Leave now. Forget the address .” What happens next is exactly what I expect: Arkady scowls furiously and reaches to grab the collar of my shirt with his left hand. Before he can punch me with his right, I grip his left thumb in my left palm, then close my right hand over it and squeeze. This puts agonizing pressure on his thumb joint, driving him screaming to his knees on the marble steps . As the two goons behind him step forward, I drive my Nike into the inside of the closest one’s right knee, causing him to buckle to the ground but not

doing any permanent damage. I let go of Arkady’s thumb to intercept the haymaker from the second goon, then drive my right knee up into his balls . In less than three seconds, the three men are down . I turn to my left just in time to see the blade of a stiletto flash in the green-haired woman’s right hand. There’s no way I can get a hand up in time to stop her from driving it into my abdomen .

Chapter Forty-Two 1 4. STORM I’m just about to scream when I see the dogs explode through the front doorway like bullets. My heart hammers against my ribcage as I watch Samson’s jaw clamp down on the woman’s wrist. Delilah runs head-first into the woman’s groin, knocking her backwards off the steps onto the concrete below . From my vantage point between two spindles on the staircase above the foyer, I can only see what’s happening from a downward angle, but it’s enough. Once the woman is down, Delilah leaps onto her chest, growling like the engine of Nick’s Corvette. Her mouth opens to expose all her vicious fangs, and for a moment I’m positive she’s about to rip out the woman’s throat . Then I hear Nick say something that sounds like “shtoy” and Delilah instantly hops off the woman just as Samson lets go of her wrist, which I’m amazed to see isn’t bleeding . “None of you is seriously hurt,” I hear Nick say.

“That’s out of respect for your father, Arkady. I strongly suggest you ask him about Nikolai Chernenko before you think about any sort of revenge .” Bile burns the back of my throat as I see Arkady climb shakily to his feet. The look of rage in his eyes is enough to chill my soul as my mind flashes back to the afternoon at the pier. The shooting. The storm . “This isn’t over, old man,” he growls, holding his left hand in his right . “The next time I see any of you will be the last time,” Nick says simply as he turns and walks back into the foyer, the dogs at his heels. He swings the huge door shut . The sound of it closing echoes ominously through the huge foyer . The certainty in Nick’s final words to them keeps me from descending into panic. I focus on my breathing, trying to bring my heartrate back down to normal . He stopped Arkady. He protected me. Everything is going to be all right .

For now, anyway . The dogs look up at me, whining, and Nick’s eyes follow them. He sees me before I have a chance to announce that I’m there. I must look a mess because, for the first time ever, I actually see alarm in his face . “It’s okay.” He darts up the staircase towards me. “It’s over .” I hear the big SUV screeching away in the driveway, but I wonder . Nick reaches the landing at the top of the stairs and drapes an arm over my shoulders. I can smell the musk on his shirt. It’s oddly comforting, but I realize I’m still trembling . “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t want you to be involved in this. I’d never want to put you in danger .” He turns me to face him, his hands on my upper arms . “Arkady Volkov is a punk,” he says sternly, like he feels the need to convince me. “You never have to be afraid of him again .”

“You don’t know him,” I say. “He’s not a boy anymore – ” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into an embrace, enveloping me. I lay my face against his shoulder just as my tears begin to flow . “Shhh,” he soothes. “He’s gone. It’s over. Trust me .” “I do trust you,” I say, trying to hold back my sobs. “But he’s a monster …” Before I know what’s happening, Nick’s lips are pressing against mine. Suddenly my tremors stop and I’m kissing him back fiercely. It gives me the strength I need to get ahold of myself . Nick ends the kiss and holds me at arm’s length again . “Better?” “Better,” I say . “Good. Now let’s go down to the kitchen and get some coffee. We have a few things we need to talk about .” ***

“I do owe Arkady money,” I say, blowing the steam over the rim of my cup. “Almost $50,000 .” Nick shakes his head. “That’s nothing to him. He wants you , not the money .” “I know. When I found out that… I was responsible for the debt, I went to Arkady to ask how I could repay it. I didn’t have fifty cents, let alone fifty grand .” Nick doesn’t ask for details on the debt, and I don’t offer them. I’m not ready for that just yet . “At first, he seemed nice,” I say. “Talking about how it wasn’t my fault, that he wasn’t a bad guy, just a businessman. Friendly, you know ?” He nods . “Then he offered me a job waiting tables at his strip club in Manhattan. I wouldn’t get paid – except for tips – because my wage would go toward the debt. I didn’t see any other way out of it, so I agreed .” Remembering those early days makes me shake my head . “Arkady only wanted me to work a few nights a week, and I could keep my tips. I could still teach

piano during the day, so everything I got in cash from the patrons was like free money. It was a winwin .” “Except it didn’t work out that way,” Nick says. It’s not a question . “No. Pretty soon, he was acting like I was his girlfriend, or one of his – I don‘t know, his stable or something. Always pawing me when he brought his friends to the club. It was worse when he was drunk. Once night he just stuck his hands right up under my blouse, with everybody watching .” I swallow hard, the tears close again. “I thought I was such a grown-up, working out a deal with him that could actually benefit me, too. How stupid could I be ?” Nick puts a hand on mine. “You weren’t stupid, Storm, you were naïve. They’re two completely different things .” “I don’t know about that,” I say with a weak smile . “I do. But go on .” I sniff back the tears. “Pretty soon, my stomach would freeze up just at the sight of him. I’m not religious, but I prayed every night before my shift

started that he wouldn’t come in, that he’d somehow forget about the club forever and just leave me alone. Then one night he came in with a group of his friends, as usual. Only this time …” My voice trails off. How did he fool me? What the hell was I thinking ? Nick gives my hand a squeeze. “Keep going, Storm. You can do it .” “This time he was nice,” I say with a smile, mocking myself. “He was respectful, introduced me to his friends. They seemed nice, too. Then, at the end of the night, Arkady asked me to come to a party at a house in Long Beach that Saturday. The day of the storm .” Nick nods. “You wore a black cocktail dress, if I recall .” I smile sheepishly. “At first I thought I was there as his guest, but soon I realized that wasn’t the case. Stupid, really, to think he would bring me to a party. After a couple of hours, and a lot of drinks, I finally figured out what he wanted from me .” Nicks eyes close . “Let me guess,” he says softly. “You were the only

woman there, surrounded by men .” Hot tears sting my eyes at the shame the memory brings back. How could I have been so blind? Arkady wasn’t looking for a date, or a waitress. I was supposed to be a party favor for his friends . “I overheard him telling a buddy to ‘get ready,’” I say, my voice trembling. “I wasn’t sure what he meant. Then I heard the word ‘bitch’ and the word ‘pay’. Then the other guys started looking at me like I was a piece of meat on the grill. One of them even grabbed his crotch and started rubbing it, right in front of me .” As I say it, I see the cords on Nick’s neck tighten and his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard . “I managed to slip away from them,” I continue. “They were all downing vodka shots, one after the other, and I said I had to go to the bathroom. I got out through the kitchen at the back of the house and onto the shore. Once I got there, I pulled off my shoes and just ran . “But Arkady and the two men that were with him here today caught up to me by the pier behind the house, just as the storm was starting to kick up .” “You got the catamaran free .”

“They were between me and the house, so the only way off the beach was the water .” I’m sobbing now, remembering the stab of panic, the feeling of hopelessness . “I didn’t know how to sail a boat. But I was desperate .” “Of course you were .” “Luckily, it was only secured by a couple of knots that were easy to untie, and the mainsail was down. Arkady kept yelling at me from a distance to get back in the house. I think he was afraid to get too close to the water because of the wind .” Nick smiles grimly. “Little vyperdysch can’t swim, I bet .” “Next thing I know, there’s this huge gust of wind and the sails fill up, and suddenly I’m headed out to the open water at what felt like fifty miles an hour. Then – then the shots started .” This time I squeeze Nick’s hand. He squeezes back . “I dropped flat onto the deck,” I say. “I heard the cracks as the bullets tore into the hull, again and

again and again. I remember wondering which would be worse: getting hit by one, drowning in the ocean or going back to the party and being passed around among Arkady and his friends .” Nick puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close, laying his warm lips against my forehead. His strength helps calm my shakes . “Pretty soon I had no idea where I was, and the storm was throwing me around like a rag doll on the deck. I went below because I thought I might have a better chance, but just keeping myself from being tossed overboard was exhausting. And I was shivering so hard it felt like my body was trying to shake itself apart . “When I finally heard the dogs barking, I thought it was some kind of hallucination. Then I saw you. Then I was in the water, and that’s the last thing I remember until I woke up in bed here .” I feel a warm weight in my lap. Looking down, I see Delilah’s big, soft head resting there, her eyes gazing up at mine . “You saved my life, girl,” I sob . “If I recall correctly, I was the one who jumped into the roiling Atlantic,” Nick says, frowning .

I cough out a laugh through my tears and sniff back hard. You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you here. My palm strokes the side of his face, feel the wiry softness of his beard, the warmth of his cheek underneath . “My hero,” I whisper . His eyes lock on mine. “You have nothing to fear now,” he says. “This I swear .” After watching him deal with Arkady, I know he’s telling the truth. But it also brings up so many questions . “How do you know Arkady’s father?” I ask . Nick looks away, uncomfortable . “Come on,” I say. “I told you some stuff. You have to tell me some stuff. Quid pro quo , I think is the term .” He nods, obviously reluctant. “You’re right. Josef Volkov and I worked together years ago .” “You were friends ?” He looks out the kitchen window to the Atlantic in the distance .

“It’s a long story .”

Chapter Forty-Three 1 5. NICK “My parents and I left Moscow in the middle of the night with literally the clothes on our backs. The KGB was crumbling, and men about to lose their grip on power wanted revenge on my father. Papa was an officer in the Spetsnaz for many years before we left, and he made a lot of enemies .” Storm’s eyes widen as I recall the night we fled Moscow. Like her afternoon on the boat, the memory has sharp edges, even now, thirty years later . “What’s the Spetsnaz ?” she asks . “Undercover special forces, like America’s Navy SEALs. They were elite soldiers, some of the best in the world. But the fall of the Soviet Union was total chaos, and suddenly they were going months without pay. A few of them turned on their former colleagues in exchange for money from their former KGB handlers .” “My God …”

I shrug. “It’s the law of the jungle, and Russia was a jungle then. No one knew who was in charge. There were military skirmishes everywhere, coups and counter-coups being planned. We once lived for a month on nothing but potatoes and canned meat. We had no control over our lives .” Storm’s gaze is far away. “I can relate,” she says softly . Is that why we’ve connected the way we have? We’re from different worlds, but we have more in common than I first realized . “Papa called in some favors and got us passage out of Moscow into Belarus, then on to London and finally New York. But we were flat broke when we landed here .” I don’t tell her about the night we left – the gunfire, Baba’s dying screams. It doesn’t add anything to the story that she needs to hear . “The Volkovs – Arkady’s grandparents – helped us when we arrived. Our families had been friends for generations. Papa went to work for their… business. His skills came in handy; so did his contacts throughout the former Soviet Union. With them, the Volkovs were able to expand back into the new Russia and take advantage of the chaos

there to invest in oil and other moneymakers. Soon, Papa and Evgeny – that’s Arkady’s grandfather – were partners. Not fifty-fifty, but still a partnership .” Storm nods silently. She may be young, but she’s far from stupid – she’s reading between the lines about the family “business” and connecting it to Arkady. Which means she now understands much more about me . And she’s still here. That’s a good sign . “What about you?” she asks . “Josef and I were just teenagers at the time, but we learned the business from our fathers. He always had more of a head for figures than I did. Thanks to Papa’s training, my specialty was more… hands-on. Meeting people face-to-face to discuss things. Negotiation .” Intimidation , I don’t say. Sometimes the people we did business with would try to back out of a deal, or to take more than their share. Sometimes they made threats, or worse, hurt people . I was the one who dealt with them . “Like the way you negotiated with Arkady,” Storm

says. “That kind of thing ?” I nod. As I said, she’s a smart girl . “Evgeny and Papa both died around the same time, when we were in our twenties,” I say, leaving out the part about the ambush by a rival family. “Josef and I inherited the business. It was… a difficult time. I don’t like to talk about it .” “When did you leave the business?” she asks . When I met the woman who would become my wife, I don’t say . “A few years later. Josef and I didn’t see eye-toeye on a lot of things. So I took my share of the business and bought this house. I’ve been retired ever since .” The look Storm gives me tells me she knows there’s more to the story, but she’s willing to let it go for now . “And then fate brought us together,” she says, clinking the rim of her coffee cup against mine . I grin. “It sure did .” “So what do you think will happen now? With

Arkady, I mean ?” “The moment Josef hears my name, he’ll tell Arkady to drop the matter. At the very worst, I might have to pay what you owe him, for the sake of honor, but I doubt it .” “And that’s it? I don’t have to worry about him anymore ?” I shrug. “The only one you have to worry about from now on is me .” Her smile makes my heart soar . “I think I’ve got your number, tough guy,” she grins. “I’ll take my chances .” She takes our empty cups to the sink and rinses them as the dogs trot off to some other part of the house. Out the window, I can see gray clouds gathering over the Atlantic. A perfect day to stay inside . “I know I’ve said this, like, a thousand times by now,” Storm says, wrapping her arms around my waist. “But thank you .” “And I know I’ve said this, like, a thousand times: you don’t have to thank me .”

“But I do, though .” “Okay, then,” I say. “Thank you, too .” She smiles, confused. “For what ?” “For giving me a reason to get out of bed every morning .” Her eyes mist over and her smile widens. Then her face turns serious . “There actually is one more thing we have to worry about,” she says gravely . “What’s that ?” “We have a bunch of people coming here for a dinner party on Friday evening. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t have a thing to wear .”

Chapter Forty-Four 1 6. NICK The rain kindly holds off as we take my electric blue 1972 Mustang Mach 1 into town. It’s my favorite ride – it might not be as fast as the ‘Vette, but it’s a cruiser, with loads of legroom. And it’s the first car I ever finished restoring, back in the days when Josef was still willing to get his hands dirty in the garage with me . I drop Storm at the downtown shops with a wallet full of fifties and a wide grin on her face, then make my way to Murphy’s. Unlike last time, there’s actually a customer in a booth in the corner, talking into a cellphone as he eats his fish and chips . Finn sets my beer in front of me as I take my seat at the bar . “Place is jumping,” I say, tilting my glass towards him before taking a long pull . “Whazzat?” he says. “Can’t hear you over all the noise .” I chuckle. “Just came in to say thanks for the favor

.” “I should thank you. I made out pretty well. Everything all right ?” “Oh, yeah,” I say. “Shit through a goose .” Finn takes down a glass from the shelf and pours himself his own draft. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him do that . “Drinking your profits ?” “My bills are paid for the month,” he says, a little mustache of foam on his upper lip . “You really did make out pretty well.” So why does that make me uneasy ? “Yep. Whaddaya call it? An embarrassment of riches .” “Huh.” He’s telling me the reward for info on the missing woman was substantial, which drives home the point that Arkady wasn’t interested in collecting the 50K Storm owes him. It’s personal. He lost face when she took off on him . That’s not good. And I didn’t make it any better by

mocking him . Still, he’s Josef’s problem, not mine. Josef knows what will happen if this goes any further . Finn turns his attention to the ESPN highlights on the little analog TV above the bar. We chat some more about baseball – it’s funny how so many of us become obsessed with it when we come to America – and finish our beers. The guy in the corner is talking animatedly through a mouthful of fish, spraying batter all over the table . “Rowdy crowd,” I deadpan . Finn actually cracks a smile of his own and chuckles silently . “So everything’s okay, Nicky ?” “Right as rain, buddy,” I say, draining my beer. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to see a young lady about a dress .” “Funny, we used to call it seein’ a man about a horse .” It’s my turn to chuckle. “I’m serious, Finn. Catch you later .”

“Any time, Nicky. Take care of yourself. And your lady .” “Always do .” And your lady . It feels so odd to hear that coming from Finn. Or anyone, for that matter . Odd, but good . I see Storm up the street with an armful of bags, chatting with Ellie and her ponytailed husband, an aging ex-hippie named Frank. She catches my eye and motions for me to join her . “Nick!” Frank hoots as I approach. “Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age !” “Frank.” I nod. “Ellie. Good to see you .” Ellie’s eyes go round . “That’s the most he’s said in one sitting since Christmas,” she says with mock shock . “You know, I could just as easily uninvite you,” I say . Frank puts a hand on my arm. “Please don’t,” he pleads. “It’s Ellie’s turn to cook that night .”

The three of us laugh, but Storm doesn’t get the joke . “Frank does all the cooking for the deli,” Ellie says. “Even though it’s my name on the door. Ellie’s Deli just had a ring to it. I take care of the business side of things, but when it comes to cooking, I’m hopeless .” Storm grins. “I can burn water, so I hear you .” “Storm here says you’ve been cooking for her,” Frank says. “What can we expect on Friday? Some Russian delicacy? What can we bring ?” “Wine would be great,” says Storm . I look at her, eyebrows raised. She looks back, confused, then suddenly gets it. She gives me an exasperated nod. Yes, I’m over 21 , it says . I should have known. She worked in a bar . “Perfect,” says Ellie. “We’re picking up Ramona and Greg, and Louis said he’d meet us at your place. He’s not sure if Chad can get off work in time for dinner, but he’ll try .” Suddenly my guts are in knots: this dinner party is becoming real . Everything I’ve accomplished in

my life – not all of it good, but none of it easy – and here I am, nervous about six people coming to my house that’s big enough for all of them to live in without me even knowing they’re there . “Seven o’clock sound good?” Storm asks . “See you then,” Ellie says with a wave as she heads back into the deli . “You ever going to sell me that beauty, Nick?” asks Frank, pointing across the street to where the Mach 1 is parked . “Sorry, Frank, the answer’s never going to change. She’s my baby .” Storm, who’s been rooting through one of her shopping bags, suddenly stops and looks up, startled . “What?” she yelps . “I was talking about the car .” “Oh.” She blinks. “Okay then .” Frank gives me an “oh, shit” look. “On that note, I’ll get back to work. See you folks on Friday .” Storm waves. “See you then. Nice to meet you !”

“Did you get what you needed?” I ask as Frank disappears into the deli . “I’ll show you at home,” she says with a leer . Home . I’m glad she thinks of it that way. We took a real step forward today, opening up the way we did. Arkady was the last stumbling block between us, and now that’s gone . If you’d told me two weeks ago that I’d be standing downtown with a gorgeous blonde who’s half my age calling my house home, planning a fucking dinner party , of all things, I would have shook my head at you and walked away . Now I can’t wait to get her home and see her dress . A thought suddenly flits through my mind like a butterfly. Katrina, are you watching from where you are? Do you approve ? Something tells me she does .

Chapter Forty-Five 1 7. STORM The clear liquid tastes like what I would imagine gasoline tastes like and burns my throat as it heads down to my stomach, where it explodes in a nuclear fireball . “What was that, drain cleaner?” I wheeze as I slam the shot glass back on the bar . Nick shakes his head and knocks back his own. “You young people these days can’t drink anything unless it’s apple-cinnamon or blueberry flavored. This is real Russian vodka, made from potatoes, not corn. Strong enough to sterilize a bullet wound .” I cock an eyebrow. “Seriously? You try to poison me, then you follow it up with a ‘young people these days’ shot ?” “That’s right,” he grins. “And while I’m on the subject, get off my lawn .” I can’t help but giggle. “A joke and a pop culture reference from Silent Nick !”

“I’m full of unplumbed depths .” “You’re full of something .” “Walked right into that one,” he says with a wince . “It’s okay,” I say, patting his hand. “The mind starts to dull a bit after a certain age .” “That’s it,” he says coldly. “You’re going over my knee .” I shriek and bolt from the sitting room toward the main staircase, Nick in hot pursuit. I giggle all the way down the second-floor hallway to the music room before finally collapsing, breathless, on the Hamlin’s antique bench . “I give up!” I squeal, holding my hands up in surrender . He takes them in his and pulls me up so that I’m sitting on the bench. He takes a seat beside me . “Play for me,” he says . Play for me . How many times have I heard those words in my life? Always a command, or worse, a demand. But from Nick, it’s a request, even though it’s not phrased as a question. Playing for him is a

pleasure, not a chore . “What would you like to hear?” I ask as I position myself at the keys . “Do you know any Tchaikovsky ?” “Sure. Let me guess, you like him because he’s a good Russian composer, like your good potato wodka .” I say that last in a thick accent . Nick shrugs. “They’re the only ones I know. We had to learn about them in school. Tchaikovsky, Shostakovich, Stravinsky, the ‘Mighty Five.’ As far as we knew, they were the only composers in the world .” Again I’m struck by how limited his life must have been before he came to America. How small his perspective must have been. I may have had a shitty life growing up, but at least there was always the possibility of something better. Something to hope for. He never had that. Worse, he didn’t even know he could have that . My fingers wander to the keys that start off Tchaikovsky’s Nocturne in F Minor . Some might call it a sleepy piece, but I’ve always found it has a haunting beauty to it .

Nick closes his eyes as he listens. I don’t know why, but this means more to me than I can ever say. It doesn’t come close to repaying him for everything he’s done for me, but it’s a start. He claps softly as the piece comes to an end . “It amazes me that you can remember that without sheet music,” he says . “It’s not really amazing,” I say. “That’s the only Tchaikovsky I know .” “That’s like saying ‘I can fly a plane, but only an F18 fighter jet’. It’s still amazing .” Even now, his praise makes me blush. “Thank you. Anything else you’d like to hear ?” “Play your own favorite piece .” “My favorite?” I grin. “Okay, but you might be surprised .” He sweeps a hand at the keys. “Now you’ve got me intrigued .” “Remember, you asked for it .” He nods and closes his eyes in anticipation. I guarantee he’s not expecting what comes next .

My fingers pound the keys four times, banging out the opening chords to Jerry Lee Lewis’s Great Balls of Fire, and Nick’s eyes snap open. I screech the lyrics about shaking my nerves and rattling my brains – there’s a reason I’m a pianist and not a singer – and Nick stares at me as I launch into the first verse . There’s something primal about the song’s rollicking rhythm that I’ve loved since I was a little girl. Playing the classics can transport me and touch me deep inside, but sometimes I just want to pound the keys like a maniac and get the people around me moving . Next thing I know, Nick is grinning and bobbing his head in time to the music. My caterwauling doesn’t seem to be putting him off, so I keep singing. By the third verse, he’s joined me . Then I lose myself in the solo, with its sharp, driving notes, and Nick is grinning and nodding frantically along, spurring me to slam the keys down with all my strength. By the time we’re back to the chorus, both of us are screeching at the top of our lungs about chewing our nails and twiddling our thumbs . I pound out the last four notes and we collapse into each other, laughing like kids .

“That was fun,” Nick sighs . “I wish I’d been recording you,” I say. “I’d totally blackmail you with it. Nick the Grim is really the karaoke king of boogie-woogie .” He straightens up immediately. “That’s not even funny .” I nod sternly. “You’re right, I’m sorry .” Then we’re off again. When we finally calm down, Nick slides an arm around my waist. It feels so good, like a warm blanket . “I wish I had a talent,” he says wistfully . “You mean besides escaping the fall of the Soviet Union, building a vast fortune and rescuing damsels in distress ?” “You know what I mean,” he grins . “Anyone can learn,” I say. “Tell you what: since you’re teaching me self-defense, I’ll teach you piano. What do you think ?” He frowns, and with a stab of panic I suddenly realize what I just implied: that I’d be here long enough to teach him to play piano. That’s a lot to

presume . “I don’t think I can,” he says . “That’s – that’s fine,” I stammer. “I mean, I didn’t mean to …” He gives me a quizzical look and holds out his hands. “I mean because of these .” Relief washes through me as I see what he’s talking about: those giant fingers of his . “We can work with those,” I say. “It just takes practice .” “If you say so .” “Let’s start with just one.” I take his left hand in my right. “Index finger only .” He extends his pointer and I tap it against the C key. “Tap this three times .” He does. Then I take his finger onto the B, then the A, then back to the B, C and D. Then I lift his finger onto the E key . “Tap three times .” He does .

“Okay, now do all that again. Can you remember it all ?” He plays all twelve notes again in perfect order with perfect timing . “See?” I say. “You’re a natural .” “What was that?” he asks . “Ever heard of Heart and Soul ?” He shakes his head, so I play the first few bars myself. “It’s a Hoagie Carmichael song. One of the great American standards, and a good first song for piano beginners .” “You were using both hands, though,” he says glumly. “That looks complicated .” “No more complicated than the techniques you’re teaching me to use in the dojo. Like you said, it just takes practice .” I take his hand in mine again, only this time I stroke his palm with my fingertips . “Like I said, I think we can work with these,” I coo. “Don’t you ?” He gets my drift instantly, hungrily. An instant later,

his hands are on my thighs and his lips are on my throat as his fingers roam into places where they’re more than welcome . “That’s the way,” I sigh. “Practice makes perfect .”

Chapter Forty-Six 1 8. STORM “This china is exquisite,” I say as I lay out the place settings on the huge ebony table in the dining room. “Where did it come from ?” Nick opens his mouth to answer, but I stop him. “Let me guess: it came with the house ?” He smiles and shrugs. “You didn’t honestly think I bought china, did you ?” Not for the first time, I wonder just how much he paid for this place. The plates are thick, blue and white, with stylized pagodas and birds of paradise in the centers. I don’t know anything about antique china sets, but judging by the amount of dust I had to wash off, it’s worth something . In any case, it’s sure to impress our guests. You know, just in case the cavernous mansion and the rest of the estate don’t. I’m not sure why that matters to me – maybe because I’ve never had nice things, and it feels good to have them now, even if they’re not mine .

What feels even better is the freedom I feel. Freedom to be myself, for the first time in my life. To be an extrovert. To be fun . “How’s the food coming?” I ask, placing the last of the silverware . He runs his hand through his thick black hair. “Good, I guess. Olivier salad and borscht are in the fridge, charcuterie and caviar are ready for cocktail hour. Lamb’s marinating for the shashlik . We can wait till after dinner to cut the sweet cheese and fruit .” I stare at him, grinning . “What?” he asks, frowning. “Did I forget something ?” “You’ve never had people over for dinner ?” “I told you, no .” “Why not? You’re obviously built for it. They’re going to love it !” “The food, maybe,” he says. “But that’s not all there is to a dinner party. Guests expect you to… you know, talk . Be charming, and all that shit .”

I giggle and shake my head. “I guess that’s why we make such a good team .” “We’re a pair, all right – I can’t talk and you can’t cook .” “I made piroghis ,” I say, slapping his shoulder as I pass by on my way to the kitchen. “And you actually had a real conversation with Ellie and Frank the other day. Sort of .” Nick pours us each a glass of wine and we sit next to each other on the stools at the breakfast bar. My first sip almost knocks me off my seat – it’s rich and sweet and delicious . “Whoa,” I say. “This is amazing .” Nick takes a gulp of his own and smacks his lips. “Not bad .” “Not bad ?” He lifts the bottle and peers at the label . “Chateau Mouton-Rothschild, 1945,” he reads, butchering the French pronunciation. “There’s a bunch of it in the cellar. I’m a beer man, myself .” I look at him sidelong. “Where did it come from?

And if you say …” “It came with the house .” I shake my head. “So everything classy about you came with the house ?” “Not everything,” he says. “You didn’t come with the house .” The way he says it – so matter-of-factly, not as a come-on – makes hot blood rush to my cheeks, and into other areas that make my tummy flutter. If I didn’t know our guests could arrive at any minute, I think I would actually take him by the hand and lead him up to his bedroom . Then again, we have all night. A thrill runs up my spine at the thought of how the evening might end. I’ve never been so ready for anything in my life . “Ahem,” I say. “That’s very sweet of you .” He kisses my forehead. That’s not going to do it, so I grab his face in my hands and lay a long, deep, wet kiss on his mouth . The deep double chime of the doorbell breaks us out of our passion .

“Shit,” I whisper as our lips part . “Remember,” he says, touching his forehead to mine. “You’re the one who wanted this .” I sigh. “Be careful what you wish for .” *** B y nine o’clock, there’s not a scrap of lamb left on the table, and everyone is groaning softly . “Jesus, Nick,” says Ramona Patterson, the town’s self-proclaimed matron and president of the Rotary Club. “If I’d known you could cook like that, I would have married you a long time ago .” “Don’t take this the wrong way, babe, but so would I,” says her husband, Greg, the senior partner of a prestigious law firm in Manhattan . The rest of the table chuckles, except for Frank, who’s too busy picking his teeth with a complete lack of self-consciousness. Ellie finally elbows him and he stops . “The house is still treating you well, Nick?” asks Louis Beauchesne, the realtor who sold it to him. “You say Storm is sizing up the antiques – you wouldn’t happen to be looking for a new place,

would you ?” The smile on Chad’s face next to him tightens, and suddenly Louis’s own smile looks more like a grimace of pain. I’m pretty sure his partner just kicked him under the table . “I mean, no hurry,” Louis says quickly. “Hell, the commission from the sale of this one alone carried my business for years. I was just curious .” Nick smiles and shakes his head. “I like the place,” he says. “And now that I’m sharing it with Storm here, it’s only half as big as it used to be, right ?” “Fifteen thousand square feet each,” I say. “Cozy .” More chuckles. I’m on fire tonight, if I do say so myself. Our guests have been charming and fun, and so have I. Best of all, none of them are asking any of the pointed questions that neither of us wants to answer. Whether that’s out of politeness, or respect for Nick’s reputation for privacy, doesn’t matter. Small talk and jokes are the order of the night, and that’s just fine with us . Which, of course, means that Murphy’s Law has to kick in at some point. In this case, during our afterdinner drinks, as Chad and Louis chat me up. Louis

is around Nick’s age, but Chad is closer to mine, and we’ve got a lot in common. Which is why I really shouldn’t be surprised by what comes next, but I am . “Have we met before?” Chad asks. “For some reason, you look familiar .” “I’d definitely remember meeting you,” I say, trying to sound witty despite the flood of adrenaline coursing through me . Truth is, he very well could have watched me perform at some point. I played concert halls all through the eastern seaboard in my early teens. Back during that brief time when I was still considered a prodigy, before it all came crashing down around me. If he recognizes me, he’ll start asking questions . “Same here, honey,” Chad says with a laugh, and inwardly I heave a sigh of relief. “You really know how to throw a dinner party. And you managed to tame the Russian Tarzan. That’s no mean feat in itself .” I smile. He wouldn’t think I’d tamed Nick if he’d seen him handle Arkady and his goons the other day .

“We just clicked,” I say. “When it’s right, it’s right .” “Well, I’m happy to finally see him with someone again,” says Louis. “I mean, after what happened with Katrina…” He shakes his head. “The guy deserves to be happy .” I nod as if I know what he’s talking about. Katrina has to be the first wife that Ellie mentioned, but Nick has never said a word to me about her. I wasn’t really curious before, but now, how could I not be ? Nick breaks me out of my reverie by bringing the tray of cheese and fruit into the parlor . “Who’s still hungry?” he asks . “I couldn’t eat another bite,” Frank groans as he picks up a crystal plate and scoops dessert onto it. “Which is why I’m just going to swallow this whole .” I laugh, but Ellie rolls her eyes and grabs her own plate. “Somewhere in the Catskills, there’s a motel lounge that’s missing a comedian,” she sighs . Nick sidles up and puts an arm around my waist .

“Everything okay?” he asks . “Perfect,” I say, smiling . Inside, I’m wondering what Katrina looked like .

Chapter Forty-Seven 1 9. NICK “That wine we had with dinner was divine,” Ellie says . She followed me into the kitchen. Everyone else is in the parlor, talking about the upcoming mid-term elections. I don’t even know what congressional district I’m in, so that was my cue to cut out . “You should have some more, then,” I say. “There’s plenty .” “I’m driving,” she sighs . “This house has something like twenty bedrooms. Everyone can stay over .” Her eyes light up. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She yells out into the parlor: “Anyone got a problem with staying the night ?” “Can we open up more of that wine if we do?” Chad calls back . “That’s the whole point !”

“Well, then, tuck me in and kiss me goodnight, honey !” The rest of them break up into drunken laughter. Ellie turns to me with a grin . “I guess that answers that question,” she says . I pull the cork from a fresh bottle – well, as fresh as 70-year-old wine can be – and pour her a generous glassful. She hoists it and toasts my bottle of Miller Lite . “To that new smile of yours,” she says. “I like it .” Ellie’s the only person outside of Storm who can make me feel like a shy schoolboy. I suppose it’s a trait they share because neither of them is intimidated by me . “Storm really likes you,” I say . “And I like her. But more importantly, Nick, she really likes you .” And I really like her . But I’ve had just enough beer, and Ellie is close enough to a friend, that the next question just sort of pops out . “You don’t think the difference in our ages is a

problem ?” She frowns mid-sip. “What are you talking about ?” “Storm is twenty years younger than me.” Or more; neither of us has ever mentioned our actual age . “What does that have to do with anything ?” “I don’t know,” I shrug. “This is… new to me .” “Michael Douglas is twenty-five years older than Catherine Zeta-Jones,” she says. “Harrison Ford, Clint Eastwood – they both married women decades younger than them .” I never thought of that. Maybe I’ve been worried over nothing . “Young women are often attracted to the strong, silent type,” says Ellie. “Especially these days, with all the young men running around in skinny jeans and sweaters down to their knees, spending all their time whining on social media about how hard their lives are. Real men are in short supply, it seems .” The dregs of my beer are warm, so I pop another. It’s a full-on party now – the first one I’ve been to since I was as young as the men Ellie is describing – and I’m hosting it. Here’s to me .

“Besides,” Ellie says. “If I had a young stud sniffing after me, I’d drop Frank and shack up with him in a New York minute .” “You’d starve to death,” I deadpan . Her laughter reminds me of Storm’s, open and unreserved. Another thing they have in common . “You’ve got me there, Nicky,” she sighs as she finishes the last of her wine. “But at least I’d die skinny and satisfied .” Now it’s my turn to laugh. She waggles her glass for a refill and I oblige . “Seriously, though,” she says. “You deserve to be happy, Nick. I know you went through – some of it, anyway – but it’s been over fifteen years now. It’s long past time that you moved on to the next phase of your life. And if Storm is the one to take you there – and from what I can tell, she is – well, then, you better grab on .” She’s not telling me anything I don’t already know, but she is confirming that yeah, maybe this is going to work out. And maybe it’s a good thing for me and for Storm . I wrap an arm around her shoulders and plant a

little kiss on the side of her head . “Thanks, Ellie, I appreciate it .” She gapes at me. “Good Lord, Nick,” she says. “Public displays of affection? From you ? That’s one of the seven signs of the apocalypse, isn’t it ?” “I couldn’t stop myself.” I shrug . “I have to say, though, a kiss from a handsome, rugged younger man woke up some feelings in this old bird. If I thought for one second you were serious – ” “You’d do nothing, because you love your husband .” She sighs. “Yes, I do. But don’t tell him that. He’ll get a swelled head .” *** “E ach room has its own en suite , so you don’t have to worry about wandering through the halls in the middle of the night,” Storm says as we assign our guests their bedrooms . “Thank God,” Chad says with a hiccup. “I was going to ask for a flare gun just in case I got lost.

This house really is stupidly big. I mean, like, Hogwarts big .” “I didn’t bring any overnight clothes,” Ramona giggles. “Guess you’re getting lucky tonight, Greg .” Frank leers at Ellie, who rolls her eyes. But she’s smiling. She really does love him . “Roman orgy!” Chad hoots. “I’m in !” “Come on, Hugh Hefner,” Louis sighs as he guides his partner into their room. “You’ll be lucky to get undressed without passing out, let alone any orgy activities .” “Which room do you two sleep in?” Ramona asks with a waggle of her eyebrows . Storm’s eyes widen. “Oh,” she says. “Um …” “We’re just up the hall in the master suite,” I say, wrapping an arm around her waist. “The cleaning service comes tomorrow, so don’t worry about making the beds or anything. Breakfast around nine o’clock sound good ?” Drunken smiles, nods and good-nights. A fart from Chad as he staggers into their room .

Storm and I turn and head toward my bedroom – which, for tonight at least, is our bedroom . “Are you sure?” she whispers. “I could sneak back to my room, then come back in the morning before they get up. Let you sleep .” “There won’t be much sleeping going on in here tonight,” I say as I lead her into the expansive suite where I’ve spent every night alone for more than a decade. “I’ve got you booked for music lessons all night long .” She gasps as I pick her up and throw her on the huge canopy bed . “I need to work on my hands,” I say, undoing my pants. “Like you said, practice makes perfect .”

Chapter Forty-Eight 2 0. STORM My heart is galloping like a race horse as I pull off the dress I bought specifically for tonight. All through dinner, I was hoping this was how the night would end. When Nick invited everyone to stay over, I thought it meant nothing was going to happen . I’m so glad I was wrong . Nick’s eyes roam all over me as he finishes undressing, and mine roam over him. The tattoos, the rippling muscles heavily shadowed by the light of the antique lamp. That intense stare that makes me feel like he’s looking right into my soul . I climb up to my knees on the bed and look him in the eye . “Come and put those fingers to work,” I growl . He does as he’s told, reaching behind me and unhooking my bra. My breasts pop free as the straps slide down my arms. Instantly, his hands are gripping my ass and his hot mouth is on my nipple .

“Oh God, Nick,” I pant. “I’ve been fantasizing about this all night .” He pulls me up off the bed and I wrap my legs around his chiseled torso, my bare breasts pressing against his rock-hard chest. The crotch of my panties is already damp against the skin of his belly as he envelops me in his arms and squeezes, his lips sealed against mine . Our tongues greet each other hungrily. Nick’s breathing is hard and fast now, and I can feel his heart hammering against mine. His mouth works its way down to the nape of my neck, then the hollow of my throat, then up to my ear . “I want you more than anything,” he hisses . “I want you ,” I gasp. “So much. But I’ve never – I mean, it’s my first …” “I know. We’ll go slow. Make it good .” Make it good . It’s caveman talk, but it conjures up so many thoughts of pleasure that I almost come without him even touching me down there . “What should I do?” I ask in his ear. “Just tell me and I’ll do it .”

“Everything you do to me feels good,” he says. “Just follow my lead. You’re doing great .” Nick maneuvers his shorts off with one hand while holding me tight to him with the other arm, until his huge erection is finally free for me to grab. He moans in my ear as I stroke the hot shaft tenderly . “Like this ?” His hitching breath is all the answer I need . We stay like that for a while before he lowers me back to the floor and drops to his knees. His big thumbs slide into the waistband of my panties and pull them slowly, teasingly down to my ankles. As I stand there, quivering, his face is right at my groin level . “Hello again,” he whispers before kissing my mound and sending an electric current right through my core . My hands grasp his shoulders for balance as his tongue goes to work full force. My head drops backwards in pleasure and I moan to the ceiling above us. I want time to stop and for Nick to keep doing this to me for the rest of eternity. But I know there’s even more to come .

After what seems like forever, I finally pull away from him, knowing that if I don’t, I won’t be able to hold off my climax if I let him keep going. He responds by standing while I take my own place on my knees in front of him . “And hello to you, too,” I say as his cock throbs at my touch . The hardness and softness and heat of his shaft combine into a single, thrilling sensation in my mouth. Nick’s fingers tangle in my hair as I take more of him, until I can’t go any farther. His moans spur me into more action, bobbing up and down while my hand grips the base and tugs gently . “Do you like that?” I gasp, looking up at him . “Yes,” he pants. “So much. But we have to slow down .” It’s so good to know that I push him to the edge as much as he pushes me. I stand up and Nick wraps his arms around me again, lifting me and carrying me to the bed, where he lays me on my back on the soft, ancient cotton of the antique coverlet . My senses are reeling at the warmth of his touch, at the feel of the bed, the sight of this huge, opulent suite, so different from the tiny bedrooms I’ve had

in my life. And Nick’s loving arms, so strong and safe after all those years of uncertainty and chaos. My heart swells, overwhelmed by the joy of it all . “Are you okay?” he whispers as he lies down beside me . I nod, trying to hold in the tears. “So much better than okay .” We kiss and hold each other, our hearts beating against the other’s chest, his fingers stroking me tenderly between my legs until the heat becomes unbearable. I’m practically dripping with anticipation . “I can’t take it anymore,” I sigh, opening myself to him. “I want you inside me. Now .” Nick reaches into the drawer of the night table next to the bed and produces a small square, tearing it open with his teeth . “Can I?” I ask . His eyes flash with naked lust as he hands me the condom. His eyes close with pleasure as I apply it to the tip of his cock and roll it slowly, sensuously down to the base of his stiff shaft. It bobs appreciatively in my hand .

“You’re sure?” he asks, kneeling between my open legs . “I’ve never wanted anything so badly .” Nick lowers himself down with those powerful arms until his face is hovering above mine. He kisses me softly as the tip of him touches my opening. My fingers clench around his neck as he gently slides the rest of himself inside . My eyes go wide as the sensation of agony and ecstasy at the same time makes me gasp. I feel Nick start to pull away and I cling to him, wrapping my legs around his hips . “Don’t stop,” I beg. “Please .” The pain is exquisite, but soon it’s over, replaced by the sensation of being filled . Then Nick starts to move, and things get even better. He ends each slow stroke with a kiss on my lips. Once, twice, three times. Each time is better than the last, until the rhythm starts to catch and I start to feel a deep thrill with each thrust . My eyes lock on his in the dim light of the bedroom lamp and my fingers entwine around the back of his neck .

“Is it good?” I ask . “It’s heaven,” he pants . Suddenly the closeness, the intimacy between us, makes me feel brave, just as it did that afternoon in the pool. With that confidence comes a newfound hunger deep inside. I want more of him, all of him. And I’m not afraid to ask for it . “I want you to fuck me hard, Nick,” I growl. “Give it to me. All of it .” His eyes go wide at my dirty talk, which makes me even wetter. Who knew confidence could be such a turn-on ? He props himself up on his hands as I raise my hips to meet his thrusts, and soon we’ve got a matching rhythm of passion that becomes more and more effortless as we build toward release. In all my fantasies, I never thought it could be this good, this right . Even as I see the ecstasy on Nick’s face, I feel the gathering storm in his shaft inside me. I let myself go, so happy that I’ve made him feel that deep pleasure, that indescribable joy that he’s given me . With one final, deep plunge, he explodes as our

bodies convulse together with passion and pleasure. I pull his head close to me and kiss him with all my waning strength before I finally collapse backward onto the bed . Nick lies on top of me, holding himself up with those steel-cable arms, panting in my ear. I grip him tighter with my legs, not wanting him to leave me . “Storm,” he whispers. “It was… it was …” “I know,” I sigh. “Everything I hoped it would be, and so much more .” We lay like that for a long time, feeling each other’s skin, kissing and nuzzling, just feeling each other. For the first time in my life, I feel like everything is right with the world. That everything is going to be okay . I know that might just be the afterglow talking, but I want to believe it. And I think Nick does, too, the way he’s holding on to me . But the human body can only take so much, unfortunately, and I finally unwrap my legs as he slides out of me. I can’t hide a little pout as he withdraws, but my mind is already on the next time, when it will be even better .

Nick rolls onto his side and I snuggle into the crook of his shoulder. His massive fingertips stroke my belly and breasts with an amazingly delicate touch, considering their size and the roughness he’s developed from years of martial arts training . “Well,” I whisper. “I definitely can’t go back to my own room after that. I don’t think my legs would carry me to the door .” “Good,” he says. “I wouldn’t let you, anyway .” “Is that right, Mr. Tough Russian? How would you stop me ?” He presses the heel of his palm against my groin, prompting an unexpected shiver of excitement I wouldn’t have thought possible so soon after finishing . “Okay,” I gasp. “That’s enough to keep me here .” He grins . “I like it when you smile,” I whisper . “You make me smile .” We lie there in comfortable silence for a while. I look around the room, wondering if he truly wants

me to move in here with him. A few weeks ago, I was living in a broken-down flat in Newark. Now I live here . It’s like a fairy tale. Sure, the prince is a grim, bearded Russian with attack dogs, but it’s still a fairy tale . As if reading my mind, I hear a scratching at the door . “That’s either the dogs or Chad is trying to find the bathroom,” I whisper . Nick chuckles as he climbs out of bed and pads to the door. The dogs amble in as he opens it and lie down on the rug in the center of the room . “I’ve been spoiling them since you showed up,” he says. “They’ve never even tried to come into my bedroom before .” I grin. “Then you’re about to be really angry,” I say as I pat the coverlet . Samson and Delilah leap onto the bed and cover my face with kisses, making me giggle like a little girl . Nick shakes his head, but he’s smiling in spite of

himself . “Years of training and discipline down the drain,” he sighs, joining us on the bed . “Are you talking about them or you ?” He turns to face me with an incredulous look . “That is it ,” he scowls. “You’re going over my knee right now .” “Finally!” I hoot, turning over to show him my ass . He gives it a playful little smack, which gets Delilah riled up. She leans in and licks his nose, making him grimace . We fuss over the dogs for a few minutes before Nick finally orders them off the bed and takes his place by my side. We pull up the covers and snuggle in together, allowing me to build up enough courage to ask the question that I can’t get out of my head . “So you want me to stay in this room?” I ask nervously. “I’m being serious now .” He looks me in the eye. “Yes, I do. And I’m being serious, too .”

His answer is a relief and yet frightening at the same time. So many things have happened over the last few weeks that it’s hard to process it all . “All right, then,” I say. “If you’re sure there’s enough room .” He snorts a laugh, which makes me smile . “I think we can make do,” he says. “I’ll give you three of the five wardrobes. How does that sound ?” “I don’t have enough clothes to fill one of them .” “We should fix that. Maybe tomorrow, after we feed our guests breakfast .” Our guests. The thought still gives me the warm fuzzies. And yet I can’t help but feel like the other shoe is going to drop. I guess that’s what happens when you live almost your whole life under the gun . “I don’t feel right having you buy me everything,” I say. “I should get a job .” “You already have a job. You’re my piano teacher .”

I give him a sardonic grin. “A real job. I should pay my own way .” “What else am I going to spend my money on?” he asks. “Besides, someone with your talent should be performing .” As always, thinking about performing brings a little twinge of shame . “Maybe,” I say . “You must have played for people before. It would have been a crime if you didn’t .” I turn to face him. “So you’re saying it’s time we started talking more about ourselves ?” “Only if you want to .” I sigh. “Okay, I guess. What do you want to know ?” Nick takes my chin in his hand and pulls me in for a kiss. I sigh as my heart swells at his touch. Finally, he pulls back and looks me in the eye . “Let’s start with your name,” he says .

Chapter Forty-Nine 2 1. STORM Up to this moment, I’ve never really thought about how quickly I got used to being called Storm. How quickly I got used to everything about this new life – Nick, the house, the dogs. The simple life where I don’t have to worry about everything all of the time . “Jessica,” I say. “My name is Jessica Armstrong .” Nick frowns. “You don’t look like a Jessica. I’ll stick with Storm .” “I’m glad. I like it much better .” “So now I know your name, that you’re from Arkansas, and you’re a brilliant musician .” “And that I got tangled up with Arkady Volkov,” I say bitterly . “That, too .” “Do you want to know how that happened ?”

“Only if you want to tell me .” Who is this man? How can someone go through life the way he does, not questioning, just accepting? He has more in common with Samson and Delilah than he does with other people. What could I possibly have done in my miserable little life to deserve someone like him ? “I honestly don’t know where to start,” I say . “At the beginning?” he offers . I laugh and shake my head. “Trust you to cut through the bullshit. Okay. I was born in Sweetwater, Arkansas to a couple of farm laborers .” Nick nods. “There you go .” “We never had much. Lived in a little wartime house on the outskirts of town so we could be close to my parents’ work .” My stomach knots at the memory. “The only heat came from a woodstove in the kitchen. We would have been evicted if we’d actually had to pay rent, because Mom and Dad spent pretty much every non-working moment getting monumentally drunk .”

“When did you start playing piano?” Nick asks . That’s a better memory . “In school,” I say. “We took music in class and my teacher, Miss Sidley, had me try out the piano. I took to it like a duck to water. She ended up giving me a little Casio keyboard so I could practice at home, because she knew we didn’t have any money .” I squeeze his hand. “It was the most generosity anyone ever showed me, until I met you .” “So you practiced .” I nod. “And I got good. Really good. Pretty soon I was reading music and memorizing entire songs. Music was the only thing that ever made me feel like I had any control at all .” “When did you start performing ?” I close my eyes, willing myself to stay calm as I conjure the memories . “When I was twelve,” I say. “I played at a county fair. My teacher had invited a music professor from Little Rock to come watch me, and he put me in touch with someone in New York who said I was a

prodigy and that I needed to move there .” Nick beams at me. “A prodigy? That’s amazing .” “Not exactly,” I say, staring up at the canopy over the bed. “My parents saw it as their chance to get out of Arkansas. A private music academy offered a scholarship, which was just enough to cover a shitty little apartment in Jersey. I started taking the train into Manhattan for private lessons every day, all while being home-schooled. Except my parents’ idea of home-schooling was getting hammered while I read text books . “My tutor at the academy wasn’t much better. She was a bitter old bitch who didn’t have the natural talent to make it as a pianist herself, so she became a teacher. She drilled the lessons into me and humiliated me whenever I didn’t measure up to what she wanted .” “I’m sorry,” Nick says. “No child should have to go through that .” His sympathy is almost enough to bring me to tears. No one’s been on my side since Miss Sidley gave me my Casio all those years ago . “After a year or so, my tutor started booking performances at concert halls around Manhattan.

Pretty soon I had an agent and was making real money at it. That’s why Chad recognized me tonight .” Nick blinks. “He what ?” “Not totally,” I say. “But he must have seen me perform during that time .” “Mm.” He nods. “So you were on your way as a musician. What happened next ?” I smile bitterly. “My parents discovered heroin .” We lie there in silence for a while before Nick finally says, “That sucks .” “Yeah,” I say. “Pretty soon all the money from my performances was going up their noses, then later into their veins. Even though I was working with some of the world’s most prestigious symphonies, we were still living in that shitty apartment, flat broke .” “And no one would help ?” “I never told anyone,” I say, on the verge of tears again. “I was ashamed. Everyone always wondered why my folks never came to the performances. It was because I never told them where I’d be

playing, for fear that they actually might show up. Not that they cared, as long as the checks kept coming in . “Then one night, they did come. It was at a private party for some rich patron of the arts in the Hamptons. I honestly don’t know how they found out about it, or how they got there. They stumbled around telling everyone I was their little girl, that I was their pride and joy, oh, and by the way, anyone got any smack ? “After that, the calls stopped coming. I was eighteen and my career was over .” “What did you do ?” “I left a month after that final gig, with just the clothes on my back.” I give him a wan smile. “Kind of like you leaving Russia .” “Except you didn’t have anyone to help you,” he says . “No. I managed to scrape by, teaching piano and waiting tables. For a couple of years, it was okay. I made enough to rent a room in Queens, feed myself. The whole time I never spoke to my parents .”

Nick nods, frowning . “Let me guess,” he says. “That was until they tracked you down to tell you they were in debt to a Russian drug dealer .” My face glows with heat at the shame of the memory. “I don’t know how they survived without my money all that time; maybe they worked for Arkady. I wouldn’t be surprised if my mom was prostituting herself. All I know is that suddenly they owed $50,000 and I was the only chance they had of getting square .” “Why didn’t you send them away?” Nick asks. “You didn’t owe them anything .” I bite my lip as hot, shameful tears begin to course down my face . “They’re the only people I had,” I say. “They said they were sorry for everything, that they were trying to make a fresh start. I believed them because I wanted it to be the truth .” “But it wasn’t .” I shake my head. “Two weeks after I worked out my arrangement with Arkady, they disappeared. Somehow they’d managed to keep the apartment in

Jersey, so I ended up living there while I worked at the strip club. I haven’t heard from them since .” We lie there in silence again, holding each other, breathing, not sleeping. Not surprisingly, Nick doesn’t have anything to say, so I continue . “Then everything that I told you about Arkady happened. And that was when you found me on the boat. That’s the end of the story .” “You’re wrong,” Nick says, kissing my forehead. “That’s the beginning of the story. And we’re still in the first chapter .” I managed to compose myself while I was talking, and I’ll be damned if I let a line like that set me off blubbering again. I’ve got a better idea for working out my feelings, and not just the ones in my heart . “Do you have another one of those little packages?” I ask, reaching under the covers for his member and giving it a squeeze. He responds instantly to my touch . “Yes,” he gasps. The fact that I’ve caught him off guard makes me smile . “Then get it. Tonight’s lesson isn’t over yet .”

Chapter Fifty 2 2. NICK We lie on top of the coverlet, chests heaving, feeling the sweet summer breeze flowing in through the window to dry our glistening skin . “That was…” I begin . “Even better,” Storm finishes with a heavy sigh . I sneak the hand that’s not holding hers down to the outside of my thigh and give myself a discreet pinch. Hurts. Good. That means I’m not going to wake up and find this was all a dream . “You’re really good at this,” she says . “Only as good as my partner .” She rolls over and lays her head on my chest . “I doubt that,” she says. “But I’m a quick study .” “Practice makes perfect .” She giggles. “Maybe tomorrow. I don’t think I

could possibly do any more tonight .” “Me either. I’m not as young as I used to be .” “Youth is overrated .” “Says the young one,” I chuckle . “I’m serious,” she says, stroking my chest. “I’ve never met a guy my age who cared about anything other than getting me into bed. And I’ve definitely never met a guy my own age who could have handled Arkady and his goons the way you did .” “Well, I’ve had a lot of practice at it .” “Which, getting me into bed? Or handling goons ?” “Which do you think ?” “You’re pretty good at both, I’d say .” I laugh again. “Yeah, I’m a real Renaissance man .” “You think that’s funny,” she says. “But it’s true. Maybe not academically, but you came to America as a teenager with nothing – I bet you couldn‘t even speak English, could you? – and look at what you’ve accomplished since then .” “I had some help,” I say .

“Yeah, but still .” “And I was ruthless .” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop myself. But now that it is, I’m glad: she needs to know that this mansion wasn’t bought with lottery money, or the sale of some Internet tech company. My fortune was built in dark places where decent people shouldn’t go, doing things I’m not especially proud of . I’ve been away from that life for a long time, but it’s still a part of me, like a scar that will never go away . This thing with us has been fun up till now, playing cat and mouse. The freedom that comes from not knowing the whole story. But now it’s different. If Storm is going to share my bed, she needs to know who I truly am . She’s quiet for a while, then says: “I know that. You don’t learn how to do what you did to Arkady in school .” “I left it behind when I bought this house,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t do what I did. People can change the way they act, but they can’t change who they are .”

She nods. “Did you ever… do something to someone who didn’t deserve it ?” “No.” “Did you protect people who couldn’t protect themselves ?” “Yes.” “And you left that lifestyle, what? Fifteen years ago ?” “About that .” “And since I’ve met you, you’ve been nothing but noble and kind,” she says, lifting her head to look me in the eye. “You don’t judge anyone, as far as I can tell. You’re generous to a fault. So yeah, you’re a real monster .” Ever since she woke up in my house, Storm has forced me to look at things in new ways. Now she’s making me think differently about myself. When she puts it that way, I can almost believe that maybe I’ve redeemed myself, at least a little . I wish I was a poet so I could tell her what she’s meant to me, how she lifted my soul out of a pit that I didn’t even realize it was in. How she made

me feel for the first time in years . But I’m no poet . “Thank you,” I say . She kisses my eyelids . “Finally, someone besides me says thank you,” she sighs. “It’s about time .” We kiss for a while, softly, sleepily. I can feel myself on the edge of drifting off when Storm speaks, and suddenly I’m fully awake again . “Why did you leave it?” she asks. “Why did you buy this house ?” I knew the moment had to come eventually. I guess I just thought it would be later. But she deserves to know, just as I deserved to know what led her into Arkady’s clutches . And the past can’t hurt me anymore. Remembering shouldn’t hurt anymore. I know that now, thanks to Storm . “It was for a woman,” I say . She smiles. “Well, duh . No guy does what you did for any other reason .”

“How did you get so wise ?” “I binge-watched Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix. So who was she ?” It’s hard to know where to begin. It happened so quickly, and it ended almost as quickly . “Her name was Katrina.” It’s the first time I’ve said her name aloud in years. “The girl from Happy’s Liquor World .” “Okay, now I have to know the story .” I smile. “That’s where I met her. She was working at a corner liquor store in Brighton Beach, where Josef and I lived. I stopped in for a case of beer one afternoon, she smiled at me, and that was it. I knew she was the one I wanted .” “Really?” Storm asks. “You guys were young, rich and dangerous – you must have been surrounded by girls .” I shrug. “Josef thought the same thing. Told everyone I was ‘slumming’ with Katrina .” He said a lot worse about her later on, but I won’t get into that right now .

“It was her eyes,” I say. “They were the kindest eyes I’d ever seen. I chatted her up while I was paying for my beer, and she had no idea who I was. At the time, everyone in Little Odessa – that’s what we called Brighton and Sheepshead Bay – knew about Nikolai Chernenko. Josef and I ran things. Josef used to talk about ‘respect,’ but I always knew what that really meant: people were afraid of us. Of me . “But Katrina wasn’t. To her, I was a blank slate. We talked for an hour while my beer got warm on the counter. I asked her for a date right then and there .” Storm kisses my shoulder. “That’s really sweet .” “I took her to a nice restaurant that first time, and she gave her doggie bag to a homeless man on the street as I walked her home. She was always giving panhandlers her spare change. But she’d smile and chat with them, too. Before I met her, I wouldn’t even make eye contact with people like that. I thought they were weak, not worth noticing . “Katrina taught me that there was more to life than survival of the fittest. That there was more to me than being a surly, alpha male. That living in a hard world, full of hard people, had given me a distorted view of reality .”

I turn to Storm. “In a way, you’re doing the same thing. Showing me that the world doesn’t have to be a cold and lonely place .” Her eyes shimmer in the dim light, her throat bobbing as she swallows hard . “So what happened next?” she asks . The memory conjures up black emotions, the kind that kept me here, alone for so many years. The kind I’ve managed to overcome since Storm arrived . “Josef and I fought,” I say. “I told him I wanted out. He said I was blinded by Katrina’s – well, he used a word I won’t repeat. Said I was swimming in women, why should I settle for one? The joke was on him. Katrina and I never… consummated .” Storm’s eyes widen. “Really ?” I clear my throat, trying to keep my voice even. It’s hard to talk about . “Her family were strict Catholics,” I say. “You wait until marriage, period. So we did. I asked her to marry me after our sixth date .” “Whoa, Turbo. You don’t waste time, do you ?”

“Why wait when you know it’s right ?” “You’ve got me there,” she says. “So she said yes ?” I nod. “But we had a long talk first. Katrina knew how I made my money, and she didn’t like it. But she never told me not to do it. I came to that conclusion on my own. I wanted to live in her world, not force her to live in mine . “That didn’t sit well with Josef. I told him I wanted to divest myself from the business. He said no .” “I’m guessing that didn’t go over too well with you?” Storm says . “He forced my hand. I told him that he had two options: buy me out or go to war. Either way, I was getting out .” “Holy shit,” she whispers, and I wonder if I’ve finally crossed a line with her. “How did he respond to that ?” “He tried to kill me .” “What?!” I nod. “Five men attacked me in my house in

Brighton in the middle of the night. Luckily, Katrina never stayed over. Of course, Josef knew that. He would never have allowed anything to happen to her .” “Some code of honor?” she asks . “Self-preservation. He had to strike against me to keep face with the family. But he also knew that, if he’d harmed Katrina, I wouldn’t have stopped until I’d burned his entire world to the ground .” Storm’s head is tucked into the crook of my shoulder, so I can’t see her face. But I hear her breathing stop for several long moments. Again I wonder if I’ve finally crossed a line . “I let the attackers live,” I say. “As a diplomatic message to the Volkovs that I didn’t want war. But I put them in the intensive care unit to let Josef know that I was serious about being left alone .” “Did he?” she asks. “Leave you alone, I mean ?” “Yes, but we never spoke again. We agreed on a buyout through our lawyers – it was tangled and messy, but I eventually ended up with nothing but legitimate business interests. I thought my future with Katrina was set .”

“But it wasn’t. Did she – I mean, Josef didn’t …?” “That’s the irony,” I say with a bitter laugh. “It wasn’t my lifestyle that took her from me. It was cancer. Leukemia .” “Oh, my God, Nick .” My throat aches like a rotten tooth, so swollen I can hardly speak. After all these years, the memory still hurts so much . “It was fast,” I say, my voice hitching. “I noticed dark circles under her eyes one day, and three days later her doctor was ordering tests. Two days after that, we had the diagnosis – it was terminal . “But Katrina still wanted to get married. We had the ceremony in her hospital room. Her body looked like a tangle of wire hangers inside the wedding dress she’d chosen so carefully just a couple of months earlier. I spent our wedding night at her bedside, reading to her and emptying her bedpan as she drifted in and out of consciousness . “Less than a week later, she died in my arms .” Storm wraps her own arms around my torso, her hot tears streaming down my chest. Her warmth gives me the strength to finish the story .

“Every hope I had for the future died with Katrina that day,” I whisper. “Everything good about me, everything I aspired to be with her, disappeared .” Storm sniffs hard. “What did you do ?” “I wanted to explode. Wanted to track down every person who’d ever wronged me in my life and make them pay. To make everyone hurt like I was hurting .” “But you didn’t .” I shake my head. “No, I didn’t. Instead, I took my boat out from Brighton Beach and went up the coast of Long Island. Found a little pier and tied her up, then went for a walk. Next thing I knew, I was standing on the cliffs right behind this estate .” “Seriously.” “I was staring at the rocks down below and wondering how big a mess I’d make when I landed .” “My God,” she breathes. “What stopped you ?” I glance over at the floor beside the bed at Samson and Delilah, snoring softly on the rug .

“Their father,” I say, smiling through my tears. “His barking snapped me out of my cold thoughts and brought me back to reality. Came charging up to me and almost knocked me off the cliff himself, licking me and jumping around . “He took off toward the house, and I followed him, thinking he must belong to whoever owned this place. But when I got to the house, I saw Louis’s realtor sign in the window. Turns out the owner had died months earlier . “I don’t know why, but suddenly I wanted this house. Maybe on some level I recognized it was a symbol of me – big and empty and isolated. Whatever the reason, I called my lawyer that afternoon and had him liquidate almost all of my business holdings, then bought the house and moved in. I never did find out where the dog came from, so I adopted him and called him Atlas. He died a few years ago, but I’ve got these two mutts to carry on his legacy .” As if realizing they’ve just been insulted, Samson and Delilah open their eyes and raise their heads curiously . “He’s only teasing,” Storm says soothingly. They close their eyes again .

“Then a lot of years passed,” I say. “Finally, I went down to tie up my boat in a storm and saw this crazy young woman in a party dress getting tossed around by the Atlantic .” She kisses me softly, stroking my cheek . “That’s a hell of story,” she says . “So was yours .” She nods. “So… where do we go from here ?” I glance at the antique mantel clock over the fireplace. The hands point to the three and the seven. I pull the chain on the lamp, leaving only the light of the moon streaming in through the open window . “I think we go to sleep,” I say. “We’re supposed to be feeding our guests in a few hours .” A few minutes later, I feel Storm’s soft, rhythmic breath against my neck. As sleep tugs me down into the darkness, I see Katrina’s beautiful face in my mind’s eye . She’s smiling .

Chapter Fifty-One 2 3. INTERLUDE The Rolex on Josef Volkov’s wrist reads 4:22 when his son finally comes through the door of his office, reeking of cigar smoke and wearing that stupid hipster suit Josef hates so much. With him comes the heavy bass thump of house music and the heady smell of people packed too close together . “Yo, Pops,” Arkady slurs. “What’s up? Mookie at the door said you wanted to see me .” Josef looks out through the window at the dance floor below as hundreds of after-hours partiers gyrate and stomp to the driving beat and the strobe lights. Each one of them is paying ten dollars for each watered-down drink, all for the privilege of not having to go home . They disgust him . “You just got here, then?” Josef asks evenly, pouring a shot from a bottle of Green Mark vodka . Arkady’s cheeks redden. “Uh, yeah,” he says. “I mean, a little while ago .”

Josef hands his son the shot glass. “How long ago ?” “An hour, I guess,” Arkady says, knocking back the vodka. “Maybe two, I don’t know .” Josef nods. “An hour or two, maybe. You don’t know .” “What’s the big deal? I’m here now. What do you want ?” His hand snakes out and plucks the shot glass from his son’s hand before pitching it across the room, where it shatters against the concrete wall . “I want your full attention, you smug little shit!” Josef bellows. “Do I have it ?” Arkady throws up his hands in a defensive gesture. “All right, all right!” he pleads. “Jesus, what’s the big fucking deal ?” Josef paces the room, trying to keep his anger in check. He reminds himself that anger is bad for business. Then he remembers who taught him that, and it makes him even more furious . “A little bird told me you went to Nick Chernenko’s home the other day,” he says, doing

his best to keep his voice even . Arkady’s gaze drops to the floor as his cheeks turn an even darker shade of red . “Look,” he says. “I didn’t know it was his place. And I didn’t know he was a friend of yours. I was – just looking for someone .” “Someone? You mean that blonde with the tweaker parents? The one I told you to leave alone? That someone ?” His son says nothing . “I told you to stay away from any direct contact with that side of the business,” says Josef. “If someone owes us money, there are people in place to collect it. Not you .” “I know, but – ” “But she’s a cute little piece of ass,” Josef sneers. “You wanted to get another little prize for your harem. And you thought I wouldn’t notice. Does that sum it up ?” Arkady stands there, silently fidgeting. Josef sighs and places a hand on his son’s shoulder .

“I get it,” he says. “Women can lead you to do stupid things. And if that’s all it was, I wouldn’t be so upset .” “So what’s the big deal, then ?” “The big deal is that you went to Nick Chernenko’s house. You disrespected him .” “I told you, I didn’t know who he was! And how the fuck was I supposed to know he’s your friend ?” Josef shakes his head. “You couldn’t have known,” he says. “You were just a boy the last time you saw him, and I’m sure he’s changed since then .” “Exactly.” His father’s hand snakes out so quickly that Arkady, in his drunken state, doesn’t have a hope of seeing it. The blow strikes his temple, driving him backwards and off balance, so that he lands on his knees on the carpet . “So that justifies threatening him?” Josef asks, rubbing the ridge of his hand. “Because you didn’t know him, you thought you could just intimidate him, is that it ?”

Arkady’s red eyes are round as saucers as he processes what just happened. For the first time in his life, his father actually laid hands on him . “I’m sorry!” he whines. “I didn’t know he was your friend – ” “He’s not my friend!” Josef snaps . “Then why – ” Josef grabs his son by the collar and yanks him to his feet, shaking him like a dog would with a a piece of rope. Then he puts his lips to Arkady’s ear . “Forget Nick Chernenko exists,” he hisses. “Don’t go near him, don’t talk about him, don’t even think about him. Is that clear ?” Arkady nods, blinking stupidly . Josef loosens his grip, leaving his son’s shirt crumpled at the collar . “Have Mookie take you home and get some sleep,” he says with undisguised contempt. “Your mother is expecting you for dinner at five. And for God’s sake, wash that cigar stink out of your beard before you come over .”

As Arkady stumbles out the door, Josef closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Crisis averted , he tells himself, his heart pounding as if he’s narrowly missed being run over by a freight train .

Chapter Fifty-Two 2 4. STORM “It’s fine,” Nick soothes, rubbing my shoulder. “Just a little – you know, flat .” He’s doing his best to keep me from crying . “I wanted it to work so bad,” I moan. “You make such delicious meals for me, I wanted to return the favor and surprise you. Now it’s ruined .” I feel his arm trembling on my shoulder and turn to see him biting his lip under that beard of his. My eyes go wide . “Are you laughing at me?” I say, incredulous . “I’m sorry,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. “It’s just that – Storm, you tried to make a cheese soufflé after making piroghis . That’s kind of like trying surgery after carving a turkey .” “Ugh,” I sigh. “You’re always cooking for me; I just wanted to make something special for you. It was just eggs and cheese – why was it so hard ?”

Ever since our first night together, I’ve been trying to think of ways to show Nick how much he means to me. He loves to listen to me play, and I love performing for him, but I wanted to show him I could do something else . “I just wanted you to have a gourmet meal. You know ?” He kisses my neck. “That reminds me, there’s something the two of us haven’t really talked about .” After our post-lovemaking confessional the other night? What could we possibly have left to talk about ? “What’s that?” I ask . “First, I’m rich. Second, we’re close to New York City. We could just go to a fancy restaurant and have all the cheese soufflé we can eat, and we won’t have to do the dishes afterwards .” To be honest, I haven’t given much thought to Nick’s wealth. I mean, sure, I see it in the house and his cars, and when a dozen maids show up to clean the house, but he hasn’t really spent much money since I’ve known him. We’ve pretty much been homebodies .

“I didn’t want to presume anything,” I say. “You’ve been too generous with me as it is .” He shakes his head. “Before you came here, I never had anything to spend my money on, so I didn’t spend any of it .” “And now?” I grin . “Now, my head is suddenly full of things I want to spend money on with you. Starting with a gourmet meal in a fancy restaurant .” “Okay. Where should we go ?” He frowns. “Now that I think about it, I don’t know any fancy restaurants .” “How about Per Se? I’ve heard it mentioned by some of the society people who used to attend my concerts .” “Sounds good to me .” Suddenly I’m struck with a sense of unreality – I’m about to go to the fanciest restaurant in Manhattan with a handsome billionaire whose bed I’m sharing. All those nights I’d watch the rich people mingle after my shows, some of them coming up to me and telling me how wonderful and talented I am. Then,

afterwards, I’d go back to my shitty apartment and eat a microwave dinner . Now I’m going to the restaurant that they all talked about . “I could wear the same dress from the dinner party!” I say . Nick cocks an eyebrow. “Or we could go into town early and buy you a new gown just for tonight .” My heart skips a beat. “Oh, Nick, I couldn’t .” “Oh, Storm, you could .” “Really?” I say, my grin so wide it feels like it’s reaching to my ears . “Really.” I embarrass myself by actually jumping up and down and clapping like a teenybopper at a One Direction concert, but Nick is beaming . “Who knew spending money could be fun?” he asks . I twine my fingers through his and lean in close. My other hand goes to his crotch and squeezes .

“You think that’s going to be fun?” I whisper. “Wait until you see what I’m going to do to you when we get home .” *** “O kay,” I sigh. “I’ll admit it. That was a little bit better than my cheese soufflé .” My full belly is pressing against the silk of my new gown, and I don’t care. It was the most exquisite meal I’ve ever eaten – five courses, each one better than the last. We didn’t even have to order, they just brought us whatever the chef had come up with for the tasting menu . It’s the perfect end to a perfect day – clothes shopping at New York’s finest boutiques, followed by dinner at Manhattan’s swankiest restaurant, then back home for some epic sex. What more could a girl ask for ? Nick glances at his watch. The platinum reflects the mood lighting above our secluded table. I’m so used to him wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, it’s almost bizarre to see him decked out in his tailored Armani suit . “Somewhere you have to be?” I ask, eyebrow arched .

“As a matter of fact, yes,” he says. “Our limo will be meeting us out front in about five minutes .” “What are you talking about? We drove here .” He nods. “And the limo will bring us back here after .” “After what ?” “You’ll see .” He drops a stack of hundreds on the table and leads me to the front door, where, sure enough, a man in a black suit is holding open the door of a long, black limousine . “After you,” Nick says, taking my hand to help me in . “Not bad,” I say as he pulls a sweating bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and pours me a glassful. “When did you find the time to order this ?” “When you were trying on dresses .” My heart flutters. This guy. I mean, seriously, this guy . He finishes pouring his own champagne and we

clink glasses as the driver pulls away from the curb and into Broadway traffic . “So where are we going?” I ask, practically giddy . “It’s a surprise .” My mind fills with ideas of what it could be. It’s a Tuesday night, so there’s probably not much going on. And, let’s be honest, Nick hasn’t shown himself to be the most imaginative guy . “Give me a hint,” I say . “Okay. There’ll be music .” “What kind of music ?” “Piano,” he says with a look that tells me it should have been obvious . As he says it, I remember that I saw an ad online for a concert series by Evgeny Kissin, one of Russia’s greatest pianists. He’s playing Rachmaninoff at Carnegie Hall tonight. I’m sure it was sold out months ago . But I guess, when you have money like Nick’s, nothing is ever sold out . “I think I may know,” I say with a smile .

He answers with his own smile . Outside, I see the familiar sights of West 57th Street. I never got to play Carnegie Hall – never even came close – but I’ve heard a lot about it. This should be an interesting experience. Pretty soon I see the stately façade through the limo window . Then I see it disappear as we drive right past it and turn right on 6th Avenue. We approach the red canopy sign for the Russian Tea Room, and I wonder if I’ve really gotten things wrong. But we pass that and keep heading west . “Um,” I say. “Okay. Sorry, I thought we were going to Carnegie .” “We are,” Nick says . Another right and we’re on West 56th . A couple of blocks later, the limo comes to a stop and the driver opens the door for us. I step out, confused, as Nick tips the driver. The sun has dipped below the skyscrapers, making it a little difficult to make out the sign on the building . “This is…?” I ask, shading my eyes . “The Carnegie Club,” Nick says. “Just like you

thought. Sorry, I wanted to surprise you .” We move into the lobby and I see rich leather furniture and dark wood in a dimly lit lounge with red walls. We reach the reception area, where a young woman in a white shirt and black vest takes my wrap . “Welcome,” the girl says with a smile. “Your table is ready .” She directs us to a spot next to a small stage with an upright piano. The place is packed with people, most of them older than me, murmuring and laughing. I don’t know what we’re doing here, but I’m pretty sure Evgeny Kissin won’t be playing any Rachmaninoff on this old Steinway . “I asked for the best seats,” Nick says as he pulls out my chair. “I hope these are good .” “I’m sure they are,” I say. “But who are we here to see ?” Nick blinks. “I thought you said you knew .” “I was wrong,” I say. “You’ve got me stumped .” At that moment, the lights dim and Nick takes his seat. On the stage in front of us, an older gentleman

in a dark suit takes the microphone . “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “I know you all paid quite a bit of money to be here tonight, and it wasn’t to listen to me talk .” A susurrus of laughter runs through the lounge . “This is a rare pleasure indeed. Our guest tonight doesn’t make a lot of stops in our fair city, and when he does, people talk about it for years after .” As he talks, a silhouette walks out from stage left, and the audience cheers. More details emerge as he gets closer to the light: older man, probably in his 80s, hair slicked back . “The one,” says the announcer. “The only . The Killer himself …” I look at Nick, my jaw dropping open . “No way,” I say breathlessly. “No. Fricking. Way .” The man on stage takes his seat at the piano and starts playing the rollicking four-note progression that marks the opening of Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On .

“Mist-errrr Jerry Lee Lewis!” the announcer cries, and the audience leaps to their feet . Nick puts his lips to my ear so he can be heard over the crowd . “Did I do good?” he shouts . I grab his face in my hands and give him the deepest soul kiss I can muster. It’s the only answer I can think of .

Chapter Fifty-Three 2 5. NICK “Are you ready?” I ask . “Isn’t that kind of the opposite of what you want?” she says. “I mean, if I’m ready, that kind of defeats the purpose, right ?” I hadn’t thought of that. I step away from my position behind her and walk around the mat until we’re facing each other . “You’re right,” I say. “Plus, this way I get to look at you in your Spandex .” She gives me a crooked smile. “Keep your mind on the task at hand, please .” “Right,” I say. “What was that, exactly ?” “Self-defense lessons!” she says, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me . “Right!” I say. In that instant, I step forward and thrust my right arm under her left while pivoting my hip under hers. A simple twist and she flies overtop

of me, landing on the mat with a heavy whap . “No fair!” she wails from the floor. “I wasn’t – ” “Ready?” I say . The look she gives me could curdle milk . “Very funny, comrade,” she growls, taking my offered hand and pulling herself to her feet . I shrug. “You gave me the opening. It’s a good lesson to learn .” “What is ?” “Never trust an opponent,” I say. “Not even me. Especially not me, because I’m not going to go easy on you .” “Good,” she says defiantly. “I don’t want you to .” I’m glad we’ve gotten to this point. Storm has been studying with me for a couple of weeks now, but I’m not sure if she really understands what we’re doing. This isn’t an exercise class . “I haven’t practiced the technique enough,” she gripes. “Give me some time and you won’t be able to do that again .”

Before she can say another word, I drop to my right knee and sweep her legs out from under her with my forearm. She hits the mat again . “What the fuck was that?!” she fumes, scrambling to her feet. “I wasn’t ready !” An instant later, I have both her arms trapped behind her and my lips are at her ear . “I don’t give a fuck whether you’re ready,” I hiss. “Neither will the guy who’s going to drag you into the alley. He doesn’t care about technique, either .” Storm is as mad as a wet cat, struggling against me with everything she’s got. But I don’t give an inch. Finally, when I feel her strength flagging, I let go . She pulls away from me, rubbing her arms and panting . “What was that supposed to accomplish?” she snaps. “Were you just trying to hurt me ?” “No,” I say evenly. “But whoever attacks you will be .” She eyes me sullenly. “That’s supposed to be a lesson ?”

“How did you feel when I had you ?” “Angry.” “What else ?” She blinks, brows furrowed, thinking . “Helpless,” she says quietly . “Do you ever want to feel that way again ?” She straightens up and looks me in the eye. “Never .” “Good. That’s the most important self-defense lesson you can ever learn .” “I don’t get it,” she says. “How was that a lesson ?” I put my hands on my hips. “Techniques are fine,” I say. “But they won’t save your life. The greatest weapons in your arsenal are intention and focus .” My father’s words come back to me like he’s here in the room, though when he spoke them to me, they were in Russian and I was just a boy. They’ve saved my life on more than one occasion, and I want Storm to understand them. She’s been pushed around since she was a child, always doing what others told her to do. I want her to learn how to

take control of her life . That kind of confidence comes from knowing she can handle anything that comes her way . “What do you mean?” Storm asks, genuinely curious now . “If you’re attacked, you focus on one thing and one thing only: stopping your attacker by any means necessary .” She nods. “That makes sense. But what do you mean by intention ?” “You have to have the will to do what’s necessary,” I say. “You have to believe, deep down in your core, that you’re justified in doing anything it takes to survive. Ending the conflict is your only goal .” She looks at the floor as that sinks in . “So you’re saying don’t hold back. Ever .” “Fight with everything you have, with no thought about consequences. If someone tries to hurt you, they’ve made their choice. They have to live – or die – with it .” Storm nods. “I think I get it,” she says. “But it just

sounds kind of… extreme .” “Think about how you felt when you realized what Arkady and his friends were going to do to you at that party,” I say. It prompts a twinge in my gut, knowing that she has to relive that, but it’s necessary . Her eyes cloud over. Good . “Now think about how you felt when they were chasing you. When Arkady began firing at the boat .” The flaring of her nostrils makes me swell with pride. She’s thinking about it in a new way – not as a victim remembering her helplessness, but as a warrior contemplating how she would have done things differently. It’s an important shift in thinking . “All right,” I say, tossing a towel over my shoulder. “I think that’s enough for one day .” Storm collects her things under her arm and heads for the door of the dojo. As she does, I catch up and drape an arm over her shoulders . “You’re getting there,” I say .

“It’s a lot to learn – ” Before she can finish her thought, I step behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, hoisting her roughly off the ground . An instant later, there’s exquisite agony as the back of her head collides squarely with the bridge of my nose and her fingernails dig into my hands. I let her go and stumble backwards, holding my towel to my bleeding face . “You done?” she pants. “Or do you need a little more ?” If she had run to me apologizing and asking if I was okay, I would have attacked her again. But she didn’t. She’s standing facing me, her fists raised . “I told you before, you’re a natural at this,” I say, grinning widely . “And you’re a sick old man .” “How do you feel ? ” She hesitates. “Strong,” she says finally. “Confident .” I nod. “Here endeth the lesson .”

We walk in silence down the hallway towards the staircase that will take us up to my – our – room . “Just to be clear,” she says as we start to climb. “I’m not going to attack you during your piano lessons .” I grin. Next thing I know, the collar of my T-shirt is in her fist and her nose is touching mine. Her intense blue eyes bore into mine . “Or am I?” she hisses through clenched teeth . Part of me wants to laugh. Part of me wants to run. In the end, I choose to laugh, and so does she . But the part of me that wanted to run knows that I’ve done my job .

Chapter Fifty-Four 2 6. STORM “Have you ever seen the Aristocats?” I ask . Nick frowns. “Aristocrats are what led to the Russian revolution,” he says . “Not ‘crats.’ Aristo-cats . It’s a Disney cartoon.” I sigh. “Sorry, as soon as it was out of my mouth, I knew it was a stupid question. Might as well have asked if you’d ever listened to Justin Bieber .” “Who?” “Never mind. The point was trying to make is that there’s a song in the cartoon called Scales and Arpeggios . It’s about learning music .” “Cats learning music ?” I shake my head. “Forget I said anything. Let’s just focus on scales .” “Right,” he says. “How do I do that ?” I take his baseball mitt hands and hold them up .

“Each finger represents a number,” I say. “You thumb is one, your index is two, and so on. Same on the other hand. So your left thumb would be left one, your right ring finger would be right four. Get it ?” He nods . “So when you’re playing scales, you use fingering charts to learn which finger goes where. Depending on the scale, you either start with your left five – the pinky – on the first note, or your right thumb, or right one, on the corresponding note on the right side of the keyboard. If it’s a major scale, you do both. See ?” The blank look in his eyes is all the answer I need. Sigh . “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m used to working with people who already have some knowledge of music theory. I guess you’re starting from scratch, huh ?” “Can I just play that song you showed me? For now ?” I can’t help but smile. “Of course. Give it a try .” He plunks out the first dozen notes of Heart and Soul , and does it with surprisingly good timing, if a

little heavy on the keys . “Perfect,” I say. “Now we can learn the next twenty notes .” “Twenty?” The look of fear in his eyes is priceless . “It’s not twenty different notes. A lot of them are the same .” He nods his relief . I take his hand in mine and show him how the notes progress, and turn back on themselves, then progress again, using his right index finger. He plays them back on his own perfectly . “See?” I beam. “You’re a natural at this !” “Hardly,” he says with a half-smile. “But it’s fun .” “I mean it. You’ve got a natural sense of rhythm. You’ll have this down in no time .” We spend the next hour introducing him to what the left hand is doing in the lower keys while the right hand is plinking out the melody on the upper ones. By the time we wrap up, he’s mastered both of them . “Next time we’ll try them together,” I say. “You’ll

love it .” “I already love it,” he says. “Not as much as I love listening to you do it, though .” “How do you feel when you listen to me?” I ask. “I know it’s a weird question, but I’m curious .” Nick scratches his beard. “I guess – good? No, that doesn’t describe it. It’s like there’s emotions inside that I can’t explain, but I feel them.” He shakes his head. “I’m a real poet, aren’t I ?” I put my hand on his. “I know exactly what you meant. It’s kind of crazy that we’re both teaching each other something that’s so different, and yet so alike .” “What do you mean ?” “You’re teaching me in the dojo to find that part of me that can be hard and strong. I’m teaching you through music to find that part of you that can be soft and vulnerable .” He looks down at his hands for a while . “You’re right,” he says . “I knew when I first met you that there was more

to you than just that beard and those intense eyes.” I grin. “You may not have the words for it, but you have the soul of a poet .” He frowns. “If you ever say that to anyone else – ” I giggle, rolling my eyes. “Fine,” I say. “As far as anyone else is concerned, you’re a brainless brute who eats trees and spits out toothpicks. Happy ?” “I have a reputation to maintain,” he says . “I think that’s mostly in your own mind, babe. You certainly don’t have Ellie fooled .” He sighs. “You two are my kryptonite .” Something about his look of exasperation makes my tummy tingle. I love being able to see inside him to the parts that he refuses to show the rest of the world, as much as I love knowing that he’ll never, ever let anything hurt me . And I suddenly remember that we were so exhausted after the Jerry Lee Lewis concert that we collapsed as soon as we got home and I never followed through on my promise to him . “I don’t know about Ellie,” I purr, taking his hand. “But I know I’ve got your kryptonite .”

My lips close on his neck, my tongue darting out to say hello to the salty skin there. His breath hitches a bit – he’s clearly surprised by my sudden affection. And judging by the bulge in his jeans, quite happy about it . “Really?” he moans. “Where do you keep this kryptonite ?” I maneuver his hand between my thighs, thrilling at the touch of those huge fingers down there . “Why don’t you hunt around for awhile? I’m sure you can find it. And when you do, I guarantee it’ll make you weak .” My last coherent thought before I’m overtaken by pleasure is that I’ve somehow gone from a virgin to a sex-starved slut in less than a week. I guess that’s what happens when you have access to a man like Nick . And I’m never going to let him go .

Chapter Fifty-Five 2 7. NICK “Go!” I shout. “Run !” Cool, cloudy days like today are rare for New York in August, so I take advantage of the lower temperatures to push the dogs to full capacity and let them burn off their extra energy. When it’s blazing hot like it has been the past week or so, they end up listless, just wandering around the house or napping . Storm giggles as they race past her and disappear over the cliff, where they bound down the switchbacks to the shore . “Don’t you wish you could bottle that energy?” she sighs . I do, especially when she comes after me like she did in the music room yesterday . “We should get you working on commands,” I say. “They need to start recognizing you as a master .” She smiles shyly as we amble over to the edge of

the cliffs. “Wow,” she says. “That’s a pretty big commitment, don’t you think ?” “We’re sharing a bed. That means something to me .” “Me, too .” She slides her fingers through mine. At the cliffs, we look down to see Samson pestering a crab while Delilah barks at it . “Let’s see if you can make them come,” I say . “Well, I have had some practice with their master,” she coos in my ear . I feel a hot blush in my cheeks. “Focus on the task at hand, will you ?” “Party pooper,” she pouts, letting go of my hand and cupping hers around her mouth . “Samson! Delilah! Come !” Instantly, the dogs abandon their crab and dart back to the cliffside and up through the switchbacks . “Great,” I say. “Now praise them when they get here .”

A few moments later the dogs emerge at her side, and she drops to one knee beside them, ruffling their necks . “Good dogs!” she says . “All right,” I say. “Now back to business .” Storm stands up and the dogs sit, waiting for a command . “What should I do now ?” “Let’s do the basics .” We run through sit, stay, roll over, up, off. They perform beautifully, even without any real practice. They already consider Storm a master . “I’m a regular Cesar Milan,” she says proudly . “Who?” She sighs. “A guy who works with dogs on TV. You know, that big rectangular thing that gathers dust in your theater room ?” “Hey, I watch baseball .” “Of course you do,” she says, shaking her head. “What else would I expect from a guy who drinks

beer and has a garage full of American muscle cars ?” “My father taught me to love this country,” I say simply. “It gave me everything .” She beams at me. “I got that,” she says. “And I think it’s awesome .” We lean in for a kiss, which prompts the dogs to start whining, as if they’re missing out on something . “Tsishinah,” I say as our lips part . “What did you say ?” “I was telling the dogs to be quiet. Which reminds me: there’s one more command you need to learn .” Storm’s expression turns serious . “I think I already know it,” she says . “You do ?” She puts her lips against my ear. “Shtoy ?” “You were paying attention,” I say. “Good .” “I definitely paid attention to what it meant for that

green-haired bitch .” I call the dogs over and give them a scratch, letting them know that work time is done and they can play. Storm produces a tennis ball from her purse and throws it toward the gardens. They take off after it like they’ve been shot out of a cannon . “Then you understand what it means?” I say . She frowns. “In Russian? No .” I shake my head. “Not that. What it means about the dogs .” Storm gives me a curious look. She doesn’t quite get what I’m saying . “These dogs are my companions, and I love them with all my heart,” I say as they come loping back, Samson jumping at Delilah in an attempt to get her to drop the ball . “I know that,” says Storm, scratching Delilah’s ear . “But they’re also weapons,” I say gravely. “I’m not saying you should be afraid of them, not at all. But you need to respect them and understand what they’re capable of .”

Storm nods slowly and drops her hand from Delilah’s coat. That doesn’t sit well with the dog, so she shoves her snout under Storm’s hand in an attempt to get back what she’s lost . “I see your point,” she says. “And I will .” “Good.” At that moment, Samson’s harsh bark cuts through the breeze from the edge of the garden . “That’s odd,” says Storm. “I’ve never heard him bark like that before .” Neither have I; he knows not to bark unless he’s trying to call attention to something. But from where I’m standing, it looks like he’s barking at the ground . “Quiet!” I holler as I make my way over to him. Samson sits at attention, but his whining means he’s still wound up about something . “What’s the commotion?” I ask, scanning the ground. Then I see what’s gotten his attention, and my gut freezes . It’s a black cigarette butt with a gold filter. Sobranie, the choice of rich Russians everywhere.

And the scent I picked up on the clothes of Arkady Volkov and his friends. I glance around. From this vantage point, anyone standing here can see straight into the kitchen . God damn it . My jaw clicks as I grind my teeth. I told him. I fucking told him what would happen if he didn’t leave us alone . “What is it?” Storm calls from thirty yards away. She and Delilah are heading straight for us . “Just a frog,” I say, grinding the cigarette butt into the dirt with the toe of my boot . “That’s odd,” she says. “Samson knows better than that .” I smile without feeling it. “I think we’ve got him all riled up and playful. Time to run them some more .” She throws the ball over the cliff and the dogs are off again. This time we decide to follow them down to the shore, maybe get them chasing the ball out into the ocean . “Everything okay?” Storm asks, taking my hand as we head into the trail that will take us down the

cliffside . “I’ve got you, I’ve got the dogs,” I say, grinning. “What more could I want ?” She smiles and puts her lips to my ear. “Maybe another piano lesson when we get back ?” “You can read my mind,” I growl . Thank God she actually can’t .

Chapter Fifty-Six 2 8. STORM “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me ?” “Both,” he says, pulling a small black pistol from his jeans. There’s a heavy plastic bag with the words Cabella’s Sporting Goods on the side in his other hand . “Okay,” I say, nodding. “Have to admit, I didn’t see that one coming .” Nick asked me to meet him at the southern edge of the gardens after he got back from town, said he’d tell me what it was about when we got here. The box of ammunition he removes from the plastic bag answers the question for him . “It’s a natural extension of your self-defense training,” he says as he thumbs shells into the pistol’s magazine . “If you say so. I’ve never even held a gun before .” “This is a good beginner pistol,” he says. “Ruger

LC9, seven-round single stack clip, one in the pipe, chambered in nine-millimeter Luger .” I shake my head. “Remember when I was telling you about finger positions and major scales ?” “Yeah.” “That’s what you’re doing to me right now .” He smiles. “Sorry. It’s accurate and has less recoil, so it’s a good gun for a beginner to learn with. Better ?” “Better.” Ever since that day with the dogs, Nick has seemed a little off. I find myself having to repeat things I’ve said because he wasn’t paying attention. Now this. He’s still the same guy, but just… I guess distracted is the best word . But I don’t want to bring it up. I mean, what do I know about how guys act when they start living with a woman? All this is new to me . He slides the magazine into the handle and then pulls back on the barrel. It clicks as it springs back into place .

“Think of the weapon as an extension of yourself,” he says, handing it to me handle-first. “It’s just like your hand, or your knee, or your brain. Just another tool in your self-defense toolbox .” The gun is surprisingly light as I close my hand around it. The matte black finish gives it a dangerous, utilitarian look, and suddenly I’m eager to try it out . “What am I shooting at?” I ask . Nick points me towards a dying oak about thirty yards away. Then he reaches into the Cabella’s bag and pulls out a rolled-up sheet. He unfurls it, revealing the outline drawing of a man aiming a gun back at me . “Just get used to it in your hands,” he says as he walks to the tree and tacks the target to it. “Don’t worry, the safety is on .” I fiddle with the pistol, feeling the weight of it, sliding my finger over the trigger. It should feel alien – I’ve never even been around a gun before now, let alone fired one – and yet it doesn’t . It feels good . Nick positions himself behind me and turns me to

face the target . “Okay,” he says. “Let’s start with the stance. Feet shoulder-width apart, arms at shoulder height. Now take your left hand and wrap it around the other on a forty-five-degree angle .” He positions my hands on the gun so that both my thumbs are on the left side of the handle, pointing forward . I frown. “That doesn’t look like how Jason Bourne holds it .” Nick takes a breath to speak, and I realize what I just said . “He’s a character in an action movie,” I say, cutting him off . “Movies aren’t real .” “Well, duh. I’m just saying this is different .” “Who do you trust more, this Bourne guy or me ?” He’s got me there. I stretch my fingers a bit but keep them in the same position, already feeling the weight in my shoulders. Nick points out the safety switch on the left side of the barrel, and I flip it

with my thumb, ready to shoot . “Okay, the LC9 has a long trigger,” he says in my ear. “So make sure you squeeze. Don’t pull; it’ll throw off your aim .” “Got it .” He slides a pair of what look like earmuffs from the Cabella’s bag over my ears, then another over his own. He follows that with a pair of plastic safety glasses for each of us. Finally he puts a hand on my hip and gives me a pat . I hear a muffled “Let’s do it,” and I aim for the target’s head. Arkady’s face stares back at me. I squeeze the trigger like Nick told me to . There’s a loud explosion and suddenly my hands are sailing back towards my face. The gun almost hits me square between the eyes before I catch myself . “Shit!” Nick shouts. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you: you have to push forward a bit with your gun hand and pull back a bit with your left. It helps stabilize the weapon .” “You’re lucky you’re rich and good-looking,” I gripe as I set myself back into the shooter’s stance.

I do as he says with my hands and squeeze the trigger again . This time the recoil is much less, like a slight jolt to my shoulder, and the gun stays relatively stable in my hands. In the distance, I see a bundle of splinters fly off the dying oak, about ten inches above the target . Nick pulls my right earmuff aside. “That’s great for a first shot,” he says. “But aim more for the body mass. If you try for the head, you’re almost guaranteed to miss unless you’ve had a lot of training. Even then, police are trained to aim for the torso because the whole idea behind combat shooting is to stop your opponent .” “Torso,” I say, positioning myself again. “Got it .” He replaces my ear muff and I picture Arkady’s beating heart in the center of the target. This time my squeeze is followed by a nice little hole in the black paper of the man’s chest . “Finish him!” Nick yells from behind me . Without another thought, I squeeze off six more times, each one more satisfying than the last. The seventh squeeze is just a click .

“Whoa,” Nick breathes as he pulls of his headgear and walks toward the tree . “How did I do ?” He stares at the black paper for a moment, then turns back to me . “I sure hope you weren’t picturing my face,” he calls. “You got seven in about a ten-inch grouping right in the sternum. That’s amazing .” “I think you know who I was picturing,” I say with grim satisfaction . Nick comes back to me and hands me another clip, showing me how to slide it in . “Let’s keep going,” he says . “Practice makes perfect,” I say as I squeeze the trigger again . After a hundred or so rounds, the target is in tatters and there’s a pile of split bark all around the base of the oak’s trunk. Nick is still behind me, encouraging me in my ear . “One shot left,” I say . “Let’s make it count,” he says. “You’re doing

great, but you should try to modify your feet a bit .” He slides his leg between mine and pushes outwards, widening my stance . And sparking a familiar sensation down there . “Now,” he says, reaching around to close his own hands around my grip on the weapon. “Align the top of your gun hand with your nose .” As he presses against me, I feel the hot hardness of his erection pressing against my ass. I lean back so that he knows I’m feeling him . My God, we’re both getting turned on by firing a gun. Is that sick? If it is, don’t call the doctor . “Now!” he shouts in my ear . I squeeze one final time, feeling the pull of the trigger, the recoil in my hands, the rock-hard cock pressing between my cheeks. This time, the slug strikes home in the shooter’s left eye . “Wow,” says Nick . “Beginner’s luck,” I say, pulling off my headgear . “All I know is I never want to be on the receiving end of whatever you’re shooting .”

He turns to face me and I grab his belt, pulling him to me. I grind my crotch against his bulge and he gasps as I stick my tongue down his throat . “All I know is I do want to be on the receiving end of whatever you’re shooting,” I whisper in his ear. “And I want it right now .” He responds by yanking my shirt over my head and unzipping my shorts. My hands fumble with his belt and zipper and in a few seconds, we’re both naked . “Did you…?” I pant as his mouth roams over my breasts . He pulls a foil square out of his front pocket. “Ever since that first night,” he says . Not thirty seconds later, he’s inside me, scratching the itch that’s been driving me mad since I squeezed off that first round. It hard and it’s fast and it’s dirty, and I don’t care if anyone is watching, even though I know there’s no one for miles . *** “Y ou really are a natural,” Nick says as he pulls on his T-shirt. “At a lot of things .”

“I have a good teacher.” I grin, shimmying my shorts up over my hips . “Mmm,” Nick mutters. He’s looking at the low hills in the distance to the north of the estate . “Everything okay ?” He looks startled for a moment. “Hm? Oh. Yeah, perfect .” I wish I could figure out where his mind keeps going. But who am I to say? For all I know, he’s still stunned from the spectacular sex. I know I’m not having the easiest time thinking right now . We collect the paraphernalia and amble back to the house. As we do, I swear I see Nick glancing over at the hills again . Maybe it’s just my imagination .

Chapter Fifty-Seven 2 9. NICK Storm gives me a giddy wave as the Vette peels out of the driveway and through the front gate. It took me forever to convince her to just take my credit card and go shopping in the city; I finally had to give in and agree that she could buy me some clothes, too. Something tells me it won’t be the black T-shirts I asked for . Doesn’t matter. What matters is she’ll be in Manhattan until seven o’clock, giving me the time I need to get into Brooklyn and do what I need to do. I wait a few minutes after she’s gone so that she won’t see the Mach 1’s grill in her rearview mirror. As far as she knows, I’ll be home all day waiting for her . I’ll have to explain things to her when she gets home, of course. But for now, the less she knows, the better . I spark the Mustang to life, listening to the purr of the 351 four-barrel engine for a while as my mind goes back to the days when it was barely running

and scuffed to shit. The hundreds of hours Josef and I spent rooting around under the hood, sanding and painting, hunting all over the five boroughs for parts . Those were simpler times . Finally I back her out and head down the lonesome road that leads from the estate to the Long Island Expressway. The cloudy weather has turned even worse today, with the makings of another storm on the horizon. It matches my mood . *** M ookie has to look closely before he finally recognizes me at the door . “Nick?” he asks tentatively, peering at me in the dim light of the Moscow Palace’s lobby. “Holy shit, man, is that you ?” I extend a hand and smile. “Still working the door, eh, Mook ?” He blinks at me a couple of times before taking my offer and shaking. “Nick Fucking Chernenko,” he says with a grin. “Been a while .” “Almost twenty years.” I nod .

He lets out a low whistle. “Well, shit, that must mean I’m an old man now .” I laugh out loud. Mook was always a good egg. There’s a line from an old Billy Joel song about a guy who’s quick with a joke or a light of your smoke. That’s Mookie . And like the guy in the song, I’ve always thought there was someplace that he’d rather be . “Is he here?” I ask . “Josef and the missus are just sitting down to lunch,” he says. “You want to go in, or maybe I should …?” Like a lot of people, Mookie doesn’t know how things ended between Josef and me, just that they ended. He’s being polite by asking whether I’d like an introduction, which will give Josef the opportunity to send me packing if he doesn’t want to see me . “I’d like to surprise him,” I say quietly, leaning closer. “For the Feast of Saint Igor .” It’s a holiday I just made up, but Mookie, who’s not even close to being Russian, doesn’t know that .

“Oh,” he says, trying not to look confused. “Okay, then, I guess go on in. Good to see you, man .” I clap him on the shoulder as I head through the thick brocade curtains toward the dining room. “Same here .” The Moscow Palace is one of Josef’s longestrunning money-laundering operations. Like his after-hours club, it works well because it’s an allcash business, as evidenced by the sign on Mookie’s reception desk that tells you credit cards aren’t accepted. It also acts as a meeting space for business, plus he and his family members all draw tidy salaries for jobs they don’t do, which gives them some legal extra pocket money . Its Old World charm has made the Palace a popular spot for years. The place is buzzing with Russian expatriates that I recognize, as well as some Millennials I assume are looking for some cool new cuisine. The private room is in the back, which is where I’m headed . More than a few heads turn as I pass, and I hear whispers: “Holy shit, is that…” and “I haven’t seen him for...” There’s even a “boshe moi,” which is Russian for “Oh my God.” It helps prepare me for what I know is coming next .

Josef’s wife, Pamela, sees me first as I approach the table. She’s a little rounder in spots than I remember, but the black hair is still piled high in a ‘90s style, and she still wears that fire engine red lipstick that Long Island girls seem so fond of . “Oh. My. GOD! ” she crows, dropping her fork. “Josef, lookit who it is !” Josef, who’s talking on his cell phone, gives her an annoyed look before glancing up at me. The color abruptly drains from his face and his thumb automatically hits the “end call” button without another word . “Nicky!” Pam squeals as she extricates herself from the bench side of the round booth. Once she’s out, she grabs my cheeks in her palms and gives me a red-stained kiss on the cheek . “You haven’t changed a bit, Pam.” I grin. “Still the most beautiful woman in the room .” She preens. “Your eyesight obviously isn’t what it used to be. But look at you! And the beard! I like it! Look at him, Josef !” “I see him, my love,” says Josef, finally rising from the table. He extends his hand to me, a passable smile on his face. He’s recovered from the initial

shock . “Nikolai,” he says as we shake. “It’s been too long, tovarisch .” I nod. “Yes it has .” Pamela grabs me and pulls me to the seat next to her, almost scratching my arm with her inch-long nails the same shade as her lips. She’s still a stunning woman, if you can look past the gaudy make-up and hair. And the fact she’s Greek, not Russian, which irked the hell out of Josef’s family . “You’ve gotta eat with us, Nicky, I insist .” I glance at Josef. He blinks a couple of times, then says “Of course. This is a rare occasion .” “It is!” Pam squeaks. She flags down a passing waiter in a white shirt and bow tie . “Petey, bring my friend a Miller Lite and a menu, will you? And a bottle of Green Mark from the VIP bar.” She turns to me. “We’re gonna do shots !” “All right,” I say. “But just one. I’m driving later.” I turn to face Josef. “The Mach 1. Remember ?” He looks uncomfortable. Good .

“You still have that?” Pam says, incredulous. “That baby made me weak back in the day, I’ll tell you. I always wanted Josef to buy it off you, but he said you wouldn’t sell .” “He was right,” I say. “I still won’t. Josef and I worked together to restore her. She’s a symbol of our friendship .” Josef’s gaze drops to the table and fresh blood creeps into his cheeks. I’ve shamed him . Good. The drinks come and I order holubtsi, meat and rice wrapped in cabbage. The head chef at Moscow Palace uses his own baba’s recipes, and they’re incredible . Pamela pours us each an ounce of vodka and we touch glasses . “To old friends!” she says . Josef and I nod to each other and repeat the toast. The discomfort in his eyes is supremely satisfying as we toss back the liquor . Pamela is a bit of a ditz, but she’s not stupid. With some vodka in her, she works up the nerve to ask

the question I’m sure is burning in her right now. Her husband, of course, already knows the answer . “So what brings you here, Nicky?” she asks. “It’s been a long time .” Part of me wants to simply tell her to ask her husband, but I honestly like Pam. I don’t want her getting caught between me and Josef. She doesn’t deserve it. Then again, she’s the one who raised Arkady. But I suppose she was hamstrung by the lifestyle the family leads, and all the other influences on her son . She’s always actively turned a blind eye to the family business. That doesn’t excuse what she’s let her son become, but maybe it helps explain it. Not that it matters. I deal with things as they are, not as they should be . “Just wanted to let you know I still exist,” I say with a shrug. “Been thinking about you guys a lot this last little while. And the kids. They’re all grown up now .” Pam beams as she taps her smartphone to show me a series of photos showcasing an adorable but serious-looking girl, about a year old, with dark brown eyes and chestnut hair .

“Our first grandbaby,” she says proudly. “Marta’s. She married the oldest Vaselly boy, Christopher. I ask you, do I look old enough to be a baba ?” I grin and kiss her cheek. “You don’t look anything like my baba, that’s for sure .” “Flatterer,” she says with a grin. Then a shadow crosses her face. “And Arkady is… doing well. Learning the business. Playing the field. You know how young men are, always chasing after anything in a skirt .” Josef looks like he swallowed a bug, and it’s all I can do to keep from laughing. His own wife is doing a better job of making him squirm than I could . “I wish he’d shave that stupid beard, though,” says Pam. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Nick, on you it’s distinguished. But his is just ridiculous. I’m sure it turns off far more women that it attracts .” I imagine his habit of shooting at them when they refuse to be raped by his friends turns a few off as well , I don’t say. Instead I shrug . “His father was a ladies man, too, before he met you .”

Pam smiles and turns to Josef. “Speaking of my hubby, he’s being awful quiet .” She knows enough not to bring up anything about our split all those years ago. I don’t know how much detail Josef went into when I left the business, but she’s clearly not going to scratch old wounds. It’s just a gentle prod for her husband to be a little more hospitable to an old friend . Josef manages to smile. “You seemed to have it well in hand, my love .” The waiter arrives with the food, and for a few minutes we talk about the incredible aromas and how they bring back memories of the old days. To a casual observer, it would seem completely normal. Just old friends catching up . To some of the people in the Palace, though, it must seem like some kind of a summit meeting. Nick and Josef, together again for the first time in years, what’s going on ? My eyes close as the first forkful of holubtsi hits my tongue. Fatty and meaty and just a hint of sweetness… heaven . “Am I right?” Pam says with a grin. “Isn’t it the best ?”

I nod, and suddenly I want to make sure I finish my meal before I do what I came here to do. Great food should never go to waste, even when you’re staring across a table at an old friend you might end up killing later on .

Chapter Fifty-Eight 3 0. NICK I glance at my watch. I told Storm to take her time in the city, but I want to wrap this up soon just in case. I don’t want her to be on her own at the house right now . “Oy,” Pam sighs, pushing away her empty plate. “I’m not going to need supper after that .” “It was an amazing meal,” I say. “And wonderful company .” She raises her glass and elbows Josef, who does the same. I raise mine in return . “To the old days,” she says. We drink . “Funny you should say that, Pam,” I say. “Like I said, I’ve had reason to think about those days lately, and about you two. Some of the others. How we used to be .” “You sound wistful,” Josef says. He’s gotten a little braver over a few drinks. “You don’t regret anything, do you ?”

“No,” I say. “Except losing touch. That’s why I came here today – to reconnect. And to give you something. A token of my affection .” Pan grins and wiggles in her seat. “Ooh, I love presents !” “This one is from the heart,” I say as I reach into my pocket and hand something to Josef . He looks at the key ring in his hand, the black leather tag with a silver horse and a red, white and blue stripe running behind it . Pam’s eyes go wide. “Whoa. You’re not actually …” Beside her, Josef probably wouldn’t have looked this shocked if I had pulled a gun on him . “Nikolai…” he breathes. “This is… you can’t …” I nod. “She’s yours now. I insist. A symbol of our friendship, still beautiful and undamaged after all these years .” Josef looks me in the eye, and I catch the shimmer of wetness in his. It’s what I was hoping for – a sign that our relationship isn’t broken. That we can move beyond this nonsense with Arkady. He

clutches the keyring so hard his knuckles turn white . “I’ve never been more grateful for a gift,” he says, his voice thick. “And not just the gift, but what it represents .” He extricates himself from the table and so do I. We meet in the middle, and Josef pulls me into a crushing hug. Around us, people in the know clap and cheer. When we part, I look over to see tears trickling from the corners of Pam’s eyes . I make a point of glancing at my watch again, then make a face . “I’m so sorry, but I really have to run .” “Aww,” moans Pam. “I wish you could stay .” “Another time, for sure,” I say as I take her hand and kiss it. “It was wonderful to see you, Pam .” She squeezes my hand. “You too, Nicky. Come back soon, okay? I mean it .” “I will .” I just hope it’s under the right circumstances . “I’ll walk you out,” Josef says as he drops a hand

on my shoulder . “You better,” I chuckle. “I have to show you where the Mach 1 is parked .” We laugh together as we leave the dining room and reach the lobby. Mookie smiles as we arrive, but Josef shoos him away and he reluctantly leaves us alone . “This means so much to me,” Josef says earnestly. “I want you to know I’ve taken care of things with Arkady. And for you to return the gesture with this – I just can’t put it into words .” I lean in close and drape an arm around his shoulders . “That’s good,” I whisper. “Because I need you to listen to me and not talk. The only reason your son isn’t cooling on a slab in the morgue right now is because of our shared past .” I hear his breath hitch in his throat. Good . “And because she wouldn’t want me to,” I add. “You know who I’m talking about .” Josef nods silently .

“Arkady came looking for her,” I say. “I get that. I don’t agree, but I get it. He disrespected me in my home, but he didn’t know who I am. I get that, too. I responded to that attack exactly the way I would be expected to by anyone in this restaurant. In fact, I think I was quite lenient .” Another nod . “I told him to ask you about me,” I hiss. “That should have been the end of it. But it wasn’t .” My fingers dig into the meat of his shoulder and I see him wince as I lean even closer to his ear . “Either Arkady or his people have been spying on my house. They trespassed on my property after they were specifically told to stay away. I know this to be true .” “Nick – ” he begins, but I silence him by digging my fingertips even deeper into his deltoid muscle . “I’m not finished. Yesterday I saw a flash in the hills above the estate. I’ve seen that before, Josef. It’s light reflecting off the lens of a scope. Someone was pointing a weapon at me. At her .” “Oh, Jesus,” he moans .

I keep the worst of it to myself – that whoever was eyeing us through that scope watched us make love in the gardens . “Now,” I say. “This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to accept the Mustang and drive it, publicly, to show how close we still are. That everything is fine between us. Yes ?” He nods . “Meanwhile, you’re going to have another conversation with Arkady. Only this time, you’re going to stress to him in no uncertain terms that he is on a path that will lead him straight to hell if he doesn’t walk away right now . “You’re not going to tell him that I’m your friend and that he should respect me because of that. You’re going to tell him, in detail, what I’ve done to people who’ve hurt me or threatened people under my protection in the past. Do you understand ?” Another nod, quicker this time . “Finally, tovarisch , you’re going to tell him that if he comes within ten miles of my property again, or if he watches me or the girl again, from anywhere, I will hurt him in a way that’s permanent and impossible to hide .”

Josef swallows hard. He of all people knows I don’t make idle threats. So I hope very much that he takes what I say next to heart . “And if your son threatens the girl again – if he even so much as looks in her general direction – I will kill him .” His shoulders tremble under the weight of my arm, but he says nothing. I finally release my grip and pat him on the back as if our conversation never happened . “Drive her in good health,” I say with a smile as I open the big wooden door onto the street. “And think of me whenever you do .”

Chapter Fifty-Nine 3 1. STORM “Seriously, you don’t have to do this,” I say . Technically, that’s the truth, but to be honest, I’m almost giddy at the thought of Nick sitting there while I model my new clothes for him. And that he asked me to. After giving me his credit card and PIN and telling me to go buy whatever I wanted . I mean, come on. I spent my entire life counting every single penny. And this afternoon I bought a pair of boots that cost more than a month’s rent on that shitty Newark apartment. One pair of boots . “I want to,” Nick says from his chair in the sitting area of the bedroom. “This way I can see what you bought and watch you change at the same time. I can’t lose .” For a moment, I actually wonder if a human can have an orgasm from pure joy alone . “Oh, you’re going to be winning after this,” I say as I slip out of my dress. “Guaranteed .”

I show him the dresses and blouses, the shoes, the jeans, all of which draw smiles and nods. Then I get into the lingerie, which perks him up a bit more and turns me on the point where I can barely keep from just ripping his clothes off . But something with him still seems… off. Just like yesterday after we’d made love in the gardens – as if he’s distracted by something. He seemed to like the shirts I bought for him, even promised to wear one tomorrow. Still … I change back into the street clothes I wore today and shimmy over to him, dropping my ass into his lap and grinding against him . “That’s my fashion show,” I breathe in his ear. “What do you think ?” “I think it was money well spent,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist . It occurs to me with more than a little shame that I’m taking advantage of him. Nick has a life, too, and I haven’t asked him about his day at all. Everything has been about me. I’m new to this whole relationship thing, but it should have occurred to me before now . “So what did you do while I was burning through

all your money this afternoon?” I ask . “Well,” he says. “Now that you mention it, I did a little shopping of my own .” I look at him. “You? Shopping? For what ?” “Why don’t you come with me and take a look ?” He leads me by the hand out of our room – our room, I still love the sound of that – and downstairs, then out the front door. The dogs sidle up to us as soon as they realize we’re going outside . “You shopped for something that’s outside?” I ask . Nick smiles and taps in the code to open the garage door. As it rolls up into its housing, I see a new addition to the stable – and one that’s missing . “You kind of commandeered my old Corvette,” he says. “I figured I’d get myself a new one .” It’s a beautiful machine – low and sleek and futuristic, like something out of an action movie. And it’s the same shade of red as the older one that I love so much. Some couples have matching bowling jackets; we have matching Corvettes .

Even so, it seems a little out of place with the rest of the collection . “It’s beautiful,” I say. “I like it. But where’s your Mustang ?” He shrugs. “I traded it in .” “You what? But it was your baby !” “It’s just a car,” he says. “And in a way, it reminded me too much of my past .” “I don’t understand .” He takes my hand. “I’ve realized something lately. I spend too much time thinking about what happened a long time ago, and nowhere near enough on what’s going to happen tomorrow, and the week after that, and the year after that. I want to focus on the future .” The lump in my throat catches me off guard, and that sense of distorted reality comes over me again. Can this really be happening? Am I going to wake up sometime and find myself back in Jersey, sleeping on the ratty old sofa bed ? “I want that too,” I croak .

We kiss for a bit before Nick taps the button to open the new ‘Vette. The interior is just as sleek and sexy as the exterior. I fawn over it, even though I still prefer the old one, just to make Nick feel good . “Why didn’t you sell the Mustang to Frank?” I ask as I step out. “He’ll be ticked. You told him that one day in town that you’d never sell .” Nick’s eyes widen for just a moment before he says: “I didn’t want to tell him this, but there’s no way he could afford it. All the parts were replaced with factory originals, and the engine only had 20,000 miles on it. The owner of the Chevy dealership gave me $35,000 trade-in because he knows he can turn around and sell it for $50,000 .” I nod. That sounds completely reasonable . “Want to go for a spin?” he asks . “I will later,” I say, sliding my hand into the back pocket of his jeans. “But I think we discussed something about you winning a little while ago. Or am I remembering that wrong ?” A smile lights up his face. “Yes, you did,” he says. “In fact, I think you said it was guaranteed .”

“Well then,” I say, pulling him back towards the house. “I guess we better get at it .” I lead him through the front door, the dogs padding after us, and up the stairs. When we reach the bedroom door, the dogs stop and reluctantly head off into another part of the house . A few minutes later, Nick is inside me, driving me wild with desire, pushing every single button until I come, over and over. We finally collapse in a heap in each other’s arms on the bed, panting, until my stomach growls . “Sorry,” I say. “Skipped lunch. How about you ?” “Yeah, me too,” he says. “Let’s go see what we’ve got in the kitchen .” As he rolls over and starts to dress, I’m struck with a little tickle of doubt in my belly. I distinctly remember smelling cooked cabbage on Nick’s clothes when I came home. And the look on his face when he was talking about the Mustang . Why can’t I shake the feeling that Nick is lying to me ?

Chapter Sixty 3 2. INTERLUDE: JOSEF The blazing sun is directly over Josef’s lounger when Arkady finally stumbles out through the sliding doors onto the pool deck, Bloody Mary in hand. His thick terrycloth robe flows out around him like a blanket as he lowers himself onto the lounger next to his father’s . “Good afternoon,” Josef says, glancing at his watch. “A little past when we said we’d meet, isn’t it ?” Arkady groans. “I got in late, Pops. I’m sorry .” “Don’t worry about it,” Josef says. “Young people stay out late. I was like you once, believe it or not .” “I don’t believe it,” his son says with a smug grin. “I thought you were born a middle-aged grump .” Josef chuckles as he rises from the lounger. He feels a trickle of sweat running down his neck from behind his ears .

“I need to cool off,” he says, stepping into the blessed chill of the pool water. “You should join me .” Arkady downs the rest of his drink and gives his head a shake . “Maybe I will. Help get rid of this hangover .” “That’s the spirit,” says Josef. “Water is the source of all life, you know .” “Sure, whatever .” Arkady bobs in the shallow end, dipping down to his chin with his knees on the bottom. Josef glides over to him . “I meant what I said, you know. I was just like you, once .” “Yeah? How’s that ?” “I was young and stupid. Thought I knew more than I actually did. Pissed people off .” Josef catches Arkady rolling his bloodshot eyes, but chooses to ignore it . “The difference is that I had something back then that you don’t, son .”

“Gee, Pops, what was it? I’m dying to know .” “I had a friend named Nick Chernenko .” Arkady stops bobbing and keeps still. The scowl on his face says he’s not in the mood . Fuck your mood , Josef thinks . “Look, Pops – ” Josef cuts him off as if he hadn’t spoken . “Nick was a special kind of person,” he says. “Not special as in he was a really good friend, although he was. What I mean is he had… unique skills .” Arkady sighs. “What are you trying to say ?” “One time Nick and I were at a bar in Sheepshead, just the two of us, nobody else from the family. This was back in the ‘90s, when you could still smoke indoors, and there were a handful of bikers playing pool in the back, and they’re puffing on these long cigars that smelled like burning tires . “After a while, a couple of girls start telling these guys to go smoke outside. You know how Brooklyn women are. Now, these biker types take that as some sort of come on, and next thing we know,

they’re grabbing at these girls, pushing them around. You know what I’m saying ?” Arkady’s eyes narrow but he says nothing . “I’m barely noticing this at the time, but Nick happens to look over and see it. I’m telling him a joke and he holds up a finger and tells me to hang on a second. He walks over with his bottle of Miller Lite to the pool room. He says something to the biggest guy, easily six-foot-six, and suddenly there’s a pool cue swinging at Nick’s head . “I blink a few times, there’s a blur, I hear glass smashing and some other noises. Then I see Nick walking back to our table. In the pool room, I see four bikers in a pile on the floor and a bunch of people standing around gawking. I’m talking seven, eight seconds tops and these guys are out cold. Nick sits back down across from me and waves at the waitress to bring him another beer, because he’d smashed his last bottle against the biggest biker’s skull . “Finally he looks at me and says, ‘So anyway, three lawyers walk into a bar, then what ?’” Arkady runs a hand down his face, leaving a sheen of pool water on his skin .

“I get it, he’s a tough guy. What’s the point ?” Josef sighs as he wraps his forearm around his son’s throat and pushes down on the top of his head until it’s submerged. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, but he can’t let up for a second. His son has always had to learn things the hard way; Josef knows this. He blames himself for not making the point clearly the first time . Arkady struggles fiercely, and he’s stronger than his father. But Josef has leverage, and the desperate strength of a father trying to save his son’s life. He counts out in Mississippis, all the way to thirty, before he finally lets go . His son breaks the surface with a huge gasp, gulping in air and blowing water and snot out of his nose . “JESUS FUCK – ” Josef grabs him again and sends him back under the surface. This time Arkady is weaker from lack of oxygen, but his panic is giving him more fuel than Josef would have believed. He makes it to twenty Mississippis this time before letting him up . Now Arkady staggers to the edge of the pool and steadies himself, coughing in great, ugly barks as he

tries desperately to fill his depleted lungs. Josef lets him do this for several seconds before he speaks . “Do you have any idea why I’m doing this?” he asks . Arkady turns and glares at him with blazing eyes that are crimson with broken blood vessels . “Because you’re a sadistic fuck?!” he barks, then collapses into a coughing fit . Josef floats over to his son and waits until the wheezing subsides . “Are you all right?” he asks . Still glaring, Arkady manages to nod. Satisfied that his son isn’t going to choke to death, he grabs the boy’s throat and slams his head against the tile edge of the pool . “I’m doing this,” he whispers savagely in Arkady’s ear, “because I would rather you drowned by my own hand than suffer whatever Nick Chernenko will do to you if you fuck with him just one more time .” “I didn’t – ” his son croaks .

“He KNOWS, you stupid little bastard!” Josef screams. “You’ve been at his house! You’ve watched him through a spotting scope! After we both told you to drop it !” He lets go, shocked at his own trembling as adrenaline courses through his body in time with his heartbeat. He didn’t know a person could feel such fury and such fear at the same time . Arkady steadies himself with a hand on the pool edge as he bends over, choking and retching into the water . “Tell me you get it,” Josef says quietly. “Look me in the eye and tell me you understand that Nick will kill you if you don’t stop .” His son’s gaze is unreadable as he looks up, his hand at his throat, his chest heaving . “I understand,” he husks . “I don’t believe you .” Tears well in Arkady’s eyes, and Josef’s stomach finally unclenches. He’s made his point . “I understand,” Arkady sobs .

With an overwhelming sense of relief, Josef takes his son tenderly in his arms and puts the boy’s head on his shoulder. How did it come to this? Where did they go wrong with him ? “I’m so glad,” he whispers in Arkady’s ear. “I was so scared I’d lose you .” “I won’t go near him again,” the boy says. “Or her .” Josef holds him at arm’s length and looks him over. Other than the red eyes, he doesn’t have any noticeable marks. Pam will just assume he’s hung over a little more than usual . “You should get some rest. Go inside and lie down. I’ll tell your mother that you’re not feeling well .” Arkady climbs slowly and silently out of the pool, stopping to steady himself on the side of the lounger as he picks up his robe. He wraps it around himself and shuffles slowly back in through the sliding doors . Once the boy is out of sight, Josef heaves a massive sigh, shaking as he exhales. He can’t remember the last time he felt so horrible, so out of control. Only a child could possibly make a man feel this way , he tells himself. You’re still in charge of the family.

Still in control. You’re not weak . Then the sound of Nick’s voice in his ear again: I will kill him . He shudders. By late afternoon, he will have finished an entire pint of Green Mark on his own .

Chapter Sixty-One 3 3. INTERLUDE: ARKADY “Nick Chernenko is fucking dead .” His voice still sounds full of broken glass, and his chest still feels a little stab when he takes a deep breath. But it doesn’t matter; he’s still in charge, and his companions are still ready to follow him, no matter what . Darya runs a hand through her green hair, her eyes dancing . “What about Jessica?” she says. “Are we gonna finish what we started ?” Darya’s apartment is virtually brand new and runs almost two grand a month, but it still looks like a crash pad for homeless people. Pizza boxes and alcohol bottles strewn everywhere, huge stains on the furniture, debris littered all over the floor . “I don’t know yet,” Arkady says thoughtfully, scratching the remnants of his last line of cocaine from the end of his nose. “I think I’ll take my time with that one .”

It’s just the two of them in the fading afternoon light. Normally, Andrei and Val would be here, too, listening but not offering any input because they’re too fucking stupid. But ever since Arkady’s father found out about his first encounter with Chernenko, he doesn’t trust them. One of them must have squealed . “So how do we do it?” Darya asks . “From a distance. My little swimming lesson with the old man taught me one thing: not to get close enough to Chernenko that he can see us coming .” “I still think I could take him. If it hadn’t been for those fucking dogs – ” “You still would have gotten your ass handed to you,” Arkady says matter-of-factly. “Pops told me Chernenko used to be an enforcer. Afterwards I asked a couple of the old guard about him. They had stories that’d make you shit your pants .” Darya scoffs. “Maybe back in the day. He’s an old man now. He’s gotta be, like, 40 at least .” “We’re not going to take chances. That’s that .” “So what then ?”

Arkady taps out another line on the mirror with an old safety razor blade that’s covered in rust . “Sniper shot,” he says . She nods. “Fine,” she says glumly. “If that’s how it has to be .” “You take the shot, I’ll be in place to snatch up the bitch as soon as he’s down .” Darya looks offended. “Why don’t you take the fucking shot ?” “Because you’re better than me. We can’t afford to miss .” “There’s a laser sight,” she says. “The distance we were at that last time when they were fucking is perfect. Anyone could make the shot .” “Fine,” he grumbles. “Whatever. But we have to make sure they’re both outside at the same time. If we take him out and she’s not with him, she’ll have a chance to run, or call the cops .” “Plus I want her to see his head get blown off,” Darya giggles . Even through his drug-induced fog, Arkady

recognizes that last line was a bit extreme. But that’s what he loves about Darya – she’s unpredictable. That’s what makes her so much fucking fun to be around. Her old man doesn’t like her – says she’s a liability – but he wouldn’t be without the Bonnie to his Clyde . “When are we gonna do this?” she asks . “We’ll start staking the place out tomorrow. But from now on we use a duck blind. He must have seen the scope when we were up there. I don’t want that happening again .” She nods. “All right, then,” she says. “I’ll clear my calendar .” Arkady blinks at her for a second before getting the joke. Then the two of them laugh like maniacs . After the hilarity passes, Darya fetches a heavy sigh . “What the fuck is it with you and Jessica, anyway?” she asks . He frowns. Does he even know the answer to that? Her parents got into hock with him, running up a huge tab in smack. He turned them out to dealing to help pay it off before he found out about their hot

little daughter . Unfortunately, he’d caught the two of them using the stash they were both supposed to be selling and so he had to send Val and Andrei to take care of them. Their bodies were somewhere in the Tuckahoe River now . But he couldn’t tell Jessica that, or she’d think she didn’t have to pay their debt . “She’s hot,” he says simply. “And innocent, y’know? I like that .” “Yeah, me too,” she says. “But it’s a lot of hassle just for a piece of ass. There has to be something else .” There is. Something he didn’t have the nerve to tell his old man either of the times he was getting beaten on. It wasn’t just about her; it was about Arkady and Josef . “The bitch is mine ,” he says. “I own her, and my old man is trying to take her away from me. I’m not going to let him. He can go fuck himself .” Darya eyes him warily. “You ever heard the line about cutting off your nose to spite your face ?”

“No.” She nods. “Just checking. I personally don’t give a shit. I just want to kill the old fucker and then have some fun with the blonde bitch .” Arkady leans down and snorts a line of the powder, then hands the mirror and straw to his companion . “That’s what I love about you, Darya,” he says. “You’re not complicated. You want what you want, and you go out and get it .” She nods. “Thanks, I appreciate that .” He stares at the gas fireplace set in the corner of the living room, watches the pilot light flicker and gutter its tiny orange light. It puts him to thinking – there’s another reason behind his plans. One he should really acknowledge . “If I’m being honest,” he says. “And I’d only say this to you — ” Darya leans in, eyes wild. “Yeah ?” “I’ll be fucked if I let my father humiliate me like that .” “That’s the spirit !”

“I’m going to run the Volkov empire one day, and I need the family to respect me. I’m not going to let them see me as some little punk who’s scared of his own father, or runs away from the fucking boogeyman, Nick Chernenko .” “Fuckin-A rights .” “My old man took over when his father was killed,” he says. “Maybe that’s the best way to do it. You know? Out with the old, in with the new ?” Darya goggles at him, her red-rimmed eyes burning with their own inner glow . “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she asks, breathless . “Maybe,” he says defiantly, not knowing the answer himself. “I guess we’ll see .” She grins. “Well, count me in whenever you’re ready .” The inevitable crash that comes with long hours of drug use eventually drags them down, until both are on the verge of passing out. Darya props her feet on the arm of the overstuffed chair while Arkady stretches out on the sofa .

“First thing tomorrow, we start hunting,” Arkady yawns . “Uh-huh,” Darya sighs. “And then we have start having fun with little Miss Jessica .”

Chapter Sixty-Two 3 4. STORM “Is everything okay ?” The sun bakes down on us as we wander along the edge of the cliffs with Samson and Delilah. It’s become such a routine that they make a beeline for the door whenever they see Nick and me together anywhere near the foyer . It’s taken me some time to work up the nerve to ask him about it, but I feel like this is where Nick feels most like himself , or at least the person he was before I showed up. If I’m going to ask, there’s no better time than here and now . “Of course,” he says as he tosses the tennis ball for the dogs. “Why do you ask ?” “I don’t know .” It’s true – I don’t know what the problem is, or if there even is a problem. For all I know, it’s in my head. But this is all new for me, and I don’t want to screw it up .

But what if I’m screwing it up by asking? Don’t rock the boat. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. I’ve got a good thing going; why risk it for something you’re not even sure exists? So many questions . “You must have a reason,” he says, taking my hand. “Tell me .” “It just seems like ever since you showed me how to use the pistol, you’ve been – distracted. Not totally, but enough that it makes me wonder what you’re thinking about .” He looks at the ground for a moment, which makes me nervous that he’s trying to work up a lie. I don’t have anything to base that on other than instinct, but it doesn’t make me feel any better . “You’re right,” he says finally. “I have had a lot on my mind lately. And I’m sorry that it worried you. It should be the exact opposite .” I blink at him. What’s that supposed to mean ? Suddenly the dogs race past us, Samson chasing a triumphant Delilah, who has the tennis ball in her jaws. We both grin at them, then at each other. Then Nick surprises me by taking my hand . “Sometimes I think my life before I met you was a

dream,” he says. “Or a nightmare. The isolation, day after day, year after year. It became a habit for me, an easy blanket that I could pull up over my head so that I didn’t have to face the world outside. Or deal with the hole in myself .” My eyes go wide. I had no idea my grunting caveman could talk like that . “I didn’t realize until you came that I was taking the easy way out,” he continues. “Loneliness and grief are easy; anybody can do it. It’s living that’s hard .” I reach out and cup his cheek because I can’t think of anything else to do . “Living was so hard for me before I met you,” I hear myself say. “Now it’s so easy, I can’t wait to wake up every morning, even when we spent the whole night in each other’s arms .” He nods. “I feel the same way. Before, whole seasons would go by and I wouldn’t even know it. Now every second of every day matters .” A lump in my throat keeps me from saying anything . “It wasn’t just Katrina’s death that did this to me,”

he says. “I was devastated – of course I was, she was my world – but I used it as an excuse to punish myself for the life I’d led before I met her. I didn’t deserve to be happy, because of the things I’d done .” Hot tears sting my eyes. “Oh, baby,” I whisper, stroking his cheek. “You’re so wrong .” “I know that now. But I didn’t know it then. My parents were gone, my wife was gone. And I realized that the people I’d thought of as my family for so long weren’t good people. Neither was I .” “Nick – ” He holds up a hand to stop me. “It’s true,” he says. “God help me, it’s true. Maybe I wasn’t a terrible person, but I wasn’t a good person. Not by a long shot. I tried to make up for it by giving away money – it never mattered to me anyway, it was just a way of keeping score – but that never filled the void . “People like Ellie tried to reach out over the years, but whenever I felt anyone getting close, I’d push them away, as if I was a rattlesnake or something that would poison them if they touched me the wrong way .” My heart is aching for him. I knew he was

withdrawn, but I never understood the depth of his pain until now . “I never had a chance to be happy,” he says. “Life under the Soviets, then moving here – it was more survival than anything else. Eventually I learned that I was good at surviving. And at hurting people. Those became my two defining traits .” I feel a warm wetness on my hand and look down to see Delilah licking me. She’s seen the tears in my eyes and wants to comfort me. It’s Nick who needs them now, not me, but the dogs see him the way he sees himself – the one in control, always . “And then you came,” he says with a smile. “Something I never expected, and something I didn’t even realize I desperately needed .” I sit down cross-legged on the grass and pull him down with me. Now Delilah is at my face, licking away my tears, and I can’t help but giggle . “I needed you ,” I say. “My whole life was out of my control, like being in a storm all day, every day, until you. You made me strong. You made me understand who I am .” Nick smiles and kisses the back of my hand. “You’re the strongest person I know. And the

smartest. And the kindest .” I choke back a laugh. “Strong? Me ?” “You lived through hell,” he says. “Through chaos. You never let it eat you the way I let it eat me. That’s real strength. Anyone can beat up someone. It takes real strength not to buckle under the weight of life .” We gaze into each other’s eyes in silence for a while. I was so worried that Nick has lost interest in me, or that there was something I was doing that was making him unhappy. To hear him talk like this makes my heart swell . I can dare to hope. I can believe that we have a future together. With Nick, anything is possible. I believe that now, with all my heart . “You say I’m kind,” I say. “But you’re the one who dove into the Atlantic to rescue me. The one who took a complete stranger into your home and cared for me, and didn’t ask any questions. Before I met you, no one had ever just accepted me for me . Everyone always wanted something . “But not you. You didn’t take, you only gave, never asking anything in return. You say you’re not a good person? Bullshit. You’re the best person I

know .” “Only because you make me that way .” His eyes mist over as he squeezes my hand, and I want more than anything to take him into my arms and rock him like a child, and sing to him and hold him through the night . The dogs’ barking pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see that we’re on the edge of the cliffs. To them, that’s the signal that we’re going to throw the ball down to the rocky shore below and they’re going to chase it. They’re nothing if not creatures of habit . Nick grins and pitches the ball as far as he can throw while the dogs bolt down the embankment . “Now that we’ve got a moment to ourselves, I have to tell you something,” Nick says . “What’s that ?” “The other day, when I went shopping for the Corvette ?” “Yeah?” “That wasn’t all I was doing .”

I knew it ! “Oh, really? What else were you up to ?” “I went shopping for something else .” I stare at him stupidly for a few moments as he drops to one knee on the grass and reaches into the pocket of his jeans . Oh, my God. OH, MY GOD . My heart is racing like a jackrabbit, my hands trembling uncontrollably. This can’t be happening. This is it, I’m finally going to wake up on that shitty sofa bed in that shitty apartment in Newark and my shitty old life … The sun glints off an enormous square cut diamond set in a platinum band, surrounded by a dozen or more tiny, brilliant blue Tanzanites . My knees almost buckle under my weight as he takes my hand and gazes up into my eyes . “Storm,” he says, using the only name that matters to me anymore. Jessica Armstrong is gone. I will forever and always be his Storm . “Nick,” I whisper, my voice trembling .

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife ?” The world becomes a surreal dreamscape for a moment as I try to grasp what it all means. Nick and I, together forever. Sharing our lives, till death do us part. Him and me against the world. The missing piece I’ve searched for my entire life, finally making me whole . “Yes,” I say with a papery voice . He slides the ring into place on the shaking third of my left hand . A moment later, I see a streak of red erupt from Nick’s forehead, and a split-second after that, a deafening crack. I watch with sick horror as he collapses to his right and disappears over the edge of the cliff . A familiar shock of green hair appears in the distance, sprinting towards me, but time feels as if it’s covered in molasses. I hear something high pitched, but I can’t figure out what it is. Suddenly the woman with green hair is filling my field of vision and I feel strong arms clamp around my torso . Finally, as I register the woman’s insane smile, I

recognize what the high-pitched sound is . It’s me, screaming .

Chapter Sixty-Three 3 5. NICK Blackness. Cold. Pain. Pain is good. Still alive . Can’t breathe. That’s bad . Floating. Can’t move. Noise. What ? Something pulling. Can’t move. Can’t walk. Where ? Feel my knees. Something hard and sharp. Rocks? Rocks. Ground . Get up, Nikolai. Get up or you’ll drown . Noise. Up! Up! Up ! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff !

Pain explodes in my head and my legs as my head breaks the surface of the waves. My chest is on fire. What happened? In front of me I see Samson and Delilah barking feverishly . I’m on my knees in the rocky bottom off the shore below the cliffs. And I can’t breathe . “Wha–” As soon as my mouth is open, I cough up a lungful of seawater. The salt burns like acid as it flows out, but when it’s over I can breathe. In short snatches, but it’s air and it tastes as good as the fancy wine in my cellar . “Ruff! Ruff! Ruff !” The dogs are dancing frantically around me in the water. As I catch my breath, I feel pain in my wrists. I look down to see dozens of angry red indents in the flesh there. My throat clenches as I realize what happened . “Did you pull me to shore?” I croak weakly. “Good dogs. Such good dogs .” They settle and lick my face tenderly, as if they understood me. After a few moments, I manage to get to my feet and navigate the rocks until I reach

the shore. Once there, I collapse on my back, the dogs snuggling in on either side of me . I assess my situation: I’m below the cliffs. I took in water, but I can breathe. Every muscle is sore. My head is on fire . Gingerly, I reach up to the source of the agony and come away with blood on my hand. It’s alarming, but there’s not as much as I’d feared, given the amount of pain . Suddenly my mind’s eye is flooded with a clear memory: kneeling. Looking up at Storm. Pressure and pain in my head. Falling. A flash of green hair. Screams . Storm’s screams . I sit bolt upright, prompting a wave of nausea and a fresh jab of agony from my wound. My body shivers uncontrollably from lack of oxygen and the after-effects of shock. That’s not good . “We have to help her,” I groan to the dogs. “Storm’s in danger .” They sit at attention, whining, confused. They need orders .

I focus on my breathing, trying to clear my mind of everything that isn’t useful, rational thought. No fear. No pain. Just reason. Figure it out, Nikolai. Find the solution . There’s no way I can get up the cliffs under my own steam. I have no means of communication down here. The closest thing I have is the radio in the boat, but it’s locked up tight. The key is in the house . The idea comes to me in a flash. It’s going to push their limits, but they can do it. They have to do it . I pull off my sodden T-shirt, arms aching with every movement, and wring it out as best I can while the dogs look at me with tilted heads . “Gonna go for a run,” I husk. “That’ll be fun, right ?” Their tails wag tentatively . I wind the shirt tightly, stretching it with each twist, until it becomes a makeshift rope. Then I tie one end onto Samson’s collar. Once that’s secure, I do the same with the other end on Delilah’s collar. The two are now connected at the neck by a black band of fabric .

Now for step two. I slide the belt from the waist of my jeans and place my arms over the shirt, so that I’m lying between the two dogs with my arms across the rope like the kitten on that old Hang In There poster . Finally, I strap the belt diagonally over my shoulder like a bandolier and secure it under the shirt rope. Now, even if I lose my grip, I won’t go flying off . I hope . I lay down on the rocky shore, feeling the gravel bite into my bare skin. This is going to hurt . “Home,” I croak . The dogs don’t hesitate. They take off with all their might, dragging me along with them. They move in synch with each other, matching each step, using their powerful neck muscles to pull me along as they climb . Each scrape and bump is agony, but we make progress up the seemingly endless series of switchbacks. I swim out of consciousness a handful of times during the climb, so I have no idea how long it takes us to reach the top . When we finally crest the edge of the cliff, I

collapse next to the panting dogs and undo the belt. A deep red impression cuts into the skin where it pulled me, but that’s the least of my worries. Lying on my back, I can see the sun is at a 45-degree angle. At least seven hours since the attack . “Good dogs,” I whisper, stroking their necks. Their breathing is harsh, almost coughing. I can’t imagine how exhausted they must be . Or maybe I can. The idea of standing right now seems impossible . You have no choice. She needs you . The thought brings with it a surge of adrenaline that helps me forget the pain and struggle to my feet. The dogs look up form where they lie on their sides, panting in the tall grass. The look Samson gives me says “Really? Already ?” “Sorry, my friends,” I groan. “She needs us .” They manage to get to their feet and pad along beside me as I lumber my way towards the house. It’s only a hundred yards away, but it seems like miles . ***

T he bathroom fills with steam as the scalding water of the shower sluices over my back. The waterproof bandage over the crease in my scalp is holding, so that’s all right. I probably need stitches, but that’s not going to happen any time soon . My muscles respond to the heat, gradually unbunching and becoming pliable again. I should be thankful whoever had the gun was a piss-poor shot, and that it was a small caliber. Probably a .22 shell. It creased my skull instead of penetrating it, following the curve of the bone . The green-haired bitch was on the ground with us when it happened – she must have been hiding somewhere in the cutbank next to the cliff edge. That means the shooter was either Arkady or one of his goons. Given what I know about the boy, I’m almost certain it was him . Not that it matters. Nothing is going to save him from me . *** T he sun is a fading line of orange behind the horizon by the time I’m ready. I re-dress my head wound, which has thankfully gone from a geyser to a trickle. No matter what happens now, there’s going to be a pretty serious scar there .

Doesn’t matter. I’d take a hundred bullets if it meant keeping Storm safe . I check the inventory I pulled from behind a secret panel in the dojo - the tools of a former life that I hoped I’d never have to use again – and pack it into my shoulder bag. I pull on the clothes specially designed for the type of work I’m expecting to encounter tonight . In the garage, I check the fuel gauge on my Mission R motorcycle. It’s a crotch rocket that looks out of place among my classic cars, but it’s American made, and it’s nimble, which is what I need. It’s full and ready to go . One last thing to do before I leave. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial a number from memory . “Moscow Palace,” says the voice on the other end of the line . “Mookie,” I say, keeping my voice light. “It’s Nick Chernenko .” “Nick! How’s it hangin ’?” “Long and strong, my friend. Hey, do you have Josef’s cell number handy? I need to get in touch with him .”

“Yeah, you bet.” He gives it to me and I program it into my contacts like Storm showed me, just in case . “Thanks, Mook, I appreciate it .” “You bet. It was good to see you the other day, man. We should get together and hang out some time .” “Yeah, sounds good,” I say, knowing full well I’ll never see him again . I hang up and hit Josef’s number. He picks up after a handful of rings . “Volkov,” he says gruffly. “Who’s this ?” “Tell me where he is and no one else has to die .” The line is silent for a full ten seconds. Finally there’s a heavy sigh . “What did he do?” he asks, his voice weak . “Shot me. Took the girl .” “Jesus Christ,” he whispers. “Nick, I told him – ” “I don’t care,” I growl. “Tell me where he is .”

“Nick,” he pleads, his voice cracking. “He’s my son .” “He tried to kill me. He took my woman .” “What if I could get her back?” he says. The desperation in his voice makes my stomach turn . “We both know that’s not going to happen,” I say. “You’re talking to the old Nick now, and you know him. Better than anyone .” Silence again. “You can’t let it go,” he says finally . “I can’t let him go. If I do, he’ll keep coming for me, because he’ll know he can never be safe. If I let him go, everyone who ever had a grudge against me will think that it’s open season on Nick Chernenko. I can’t let that happen. Not with her in my life .” “And I can’t let you go after my son,” he says. “If I let you do this, my enemies will smell blood in the water. The head of the Volkov family sat back and let Nick Chernenko take out his son. Over a woman .” I process that for a few moments. “It’ll be war .” “And no one will win .”

We’re both silent for a long time. I look at every option, and nothing works. Arkady’s insanity has forced everyone’s hand. Everyone has a gun pointed at everyone else, like in an old Clint Eastwood movie. Someone will eventually have to pull the trigger . “There’s only one way this can end,” I say. The sadness in my voice surprises me . We talk for a few minutes. In spite of everything, Josef is still my friend. I can’t do what I have planned without letting him know that it hurts me deeply. But there’s no other choice. He understands that as well as I do . “Dasvidaniya, tovarisch,” he says finally. “Do what you have to do .” “And you, brother. Best of luck .” The line goes silent and I tuck the phone into the breast pocket of my windbreaker. I pluck the helmet from the wall hook and put it on, drawing a painful protest from my head wound. The Mission sparks to life and I shoulder my pack before easing the bike out onto the driveway and closing the garage door behind me . The engine whines like a buzzsaw as I gun the bike

and set off into the night, following the headlight to whatever fate has in store for me .

Chapter Sixty-Four 3 6. STORM I knew it had to be a dream. Nick getting down on one knee to propose, promising to be with me forever, to take care of me and love me and show me all the good things the world had to offer . It couldn’t be true. Things like that don’t happen to me. This is my real world. Here, in this place. With him . “Whoo!” Arkady’s scream pulls me out of my head for a moment. He looks up from the mirror on the table, his nose white. Beside him, the bitch with the green hair – Darya, her name is – rubs some of the white powder on her gums with her index finger . Below us, the beat thumps and pounds in time with the lights as sweaty people grind together on the dance floor. The smell of the air makes my stomach hitch – it reminds me of my apartment. Sweat and cigarette smoke absorbed right into the fibers of the carpet, the walls, everywhere .

Arkady and Darya plop down on the either side of me on the sofa. If either of them are tired from dragging me kicking and screaming from Nick’s house, they don’t show it. Although Darya is sporting a black eye and a fat lip courtesy of my right fist. Nick would be proud of me . Nick. The thought of him brings a wave of nausea with it that threatens to drown me. The memory of him on the cliff runs through my head like a horror movie: the blood, the crack, his body dropping off the edge of the cliff . I want to scream. Instead, two tears escape my eyes and trickle down my cheeks . “Jesus!” Arkady barks. “Do you ever lighten up? It’s a party , baby !” I vaguely register the fact that his hand is groping my right breast through the fabric of the dress he forced me to change into. On the other side of me, Darya’s long fingernails stroke the skin of my neck. I try to force myself to go numb, to take myself out of this room and back to the house with Nick . Nick. Oh God, Nick. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault . “There’s nothing to worry about, Jess,” Arkady says, swigging from a bottle of vodka. “I’m not

mad anymore .” “Storm,” I hear myself say through numb lips . “What?” “My name isn’t Jessica. It’s Storm .” His brow furrows and he shakes his head. “You’re crazy, bitch. But I like crazy .” I say nothing . “So we can still party, right?” he says. “Except, you know, you have to pay for that shit with the old man. I can’t just let that slide .” On my other side, Darya leans in and breathes heavily in my ear . “So I’m going to put you back to work at the club in Long Beach .” A stab of panic creases my belly at the mention of the place. He must see it in my face, because he holds up his hands . “Don’t worry,” he says. “That shit with my buddies wasn’t cool. I know that now. But you’re wasted just serving drinks. Gorgeous thing like you needs to be on the stage, shaking her moneymaker. That’s

what brings in the dollar bills. I should’ve thought of that from the get-go .” I stare blankly at the wall, trying to block out the sensations from the two of them touching me. For a moment, I honestly thought that nothing he said or did could make me feel worse. Turns out I was wrong . Then he finally says the words I’ve been expecting all night . “First I’m gonna have to break you in,” he says, almost as an apology . I say nothing, but I’m smiling on the inside . You’re going to try. And who knows, you might succeed. But I’m going to throw everything Nick taught me at you. And when it’s over, whatever the outcome, you’re going to regret it . The opening riff from Sweet Child of Mine warbles through the room and Arkady yanks his cellphone from the pocket of his vest. He looks at the screen and scowls . “Fuck you, Pops,” he says absently as he thumbs a button that halts the ringtone. “Not in the mood to talk to you. This is a party .”

The two of them haul me up by my arms and lead me to the door. When it opens, we’re hit with a wave of sound and stench from the club below. They pull me along a hallway that opens to the dance floor until we reach a storage room. Arkady keys it open and flips a switch . In the light, I see crates of booze and shelves of canned goods. On the floor is a moldering army cot. The light streams down from a bare 60-watt bulb hanging from the ceiling . “This is your room for now,” Arkady shouts in my ear. “I’ll be back in a while to take you to my place .” Darya leans in and runs her tongue along the side of my face. I’m almost overwhelmed by the urge to rake my nails across her throat, but I let it pass. This isn’t the time or the place. Nick taught me that . But when the time and place come, bitch, we’re going to party. All three of us . The door closes behind them and I hear the lock drive home. Now all I can do is wait .

Chapter Sixty-Five 3 7. NICK The after-hours club is in a Manhattan warehouse that’s several blocks from any storefronts. I’m sure that’s why Josef chose it – the noise doesn’t bother anyone, and it’s the kind of place that a cop or a city official can feel okay about taking money to look the other way . I kill the Mission’s engine and ease it into an alcove behind a dumpster in the alley. It’s full, deep dark back here, no streetlights nearby to cast any shadows. Perfect for what I need. The throbbing of the bass inside translates into a white noise outside the building, which also works in my favor . The back door is actually a shipping and receiving dock with a rolling steel door. Next to it is a steel exterior door, the kind with a crash bar on the inside and a handle on the outside. At this time of night, I don’t expect anyone to be coming out through it, so my only option is to pick the lock . Once I’m inside the loading bay, I follow the steady thump of the music to the main bar area. There are

hundreds of bodies gyrating and jumping and slamming into each other in time to the beat. It makes for perfect cover, but the sound is so loud that it makes it impossible to detect trouble unless it’s in my direct line of sight . I keep to the shadows. Unlike most of the people here, I’m dressed for combat, although given what some of them are wearing, maybe I’m not so out of place . Light glowing through a frosted window on the open mezzanine marks it as the office or VIP room, so that’s where I head. The people I pass on the stairs barely notice; they’re all too caught up in the trance-like atmosphere . I feel a momentary flash of disgust for everything about this place. That sends my mind into places it doesn’t want to go: Storm at the strip club, or here at the mercy of Arkady. The loss of control she must be feeling right now would be crippling, especially since she probably believes I’m dead. My guts cramp at the thought of it all . But then I remember that Arkady thinks I’m dead, too. That keeps me going . I duck low and push open the door to the office, ready to fight. But it’s empty. Where else would

they have her? Under lock and key, no question. Close to them, easily accessible . A flash of green in my peripheral vision sets off a jolt of adrenaline. Up ahead. It’s Arkady’s crazy bitch friend. She’s fiddling with the lock on a door at the end of the mezzanine hallway. There’s no way that’s a coincidence . There’s one problem – I can’t risk a full-on assault in this crowd. There’s too much potential for innocent people to get hurt. I have to think strategically. It’s not easy, knowing that each second this goes on, the woman I love is dying just a little more inside . Finally, I manage to overcome the driving instinct to kick down the door. Instead, I descend the stairs again and head back to the loading bay, hoping I’ll find what I’m looking for there . If I don’t, I’ll have no choice, and things will get ugly .

Chapter Sixty-Six 3 8. STORM My stomach jumps and I sit up on the cot as the deadbolt flips open. This time, Darya is gone and Arkady is accompanied by two muscleheads, though not the same ones he brought to Nick’s house . Sweet Child of Mine blares through the fabric of his vest again, and Arkady yanks out his phone. Hits “ignore” again and turns to the other two . “If my father calls you, you don’t answer. Got it ?” They nod, positioning themselves on either side of the door . “Nobody gets in,” he says. “That means Darya, too. Understand ?” They nod again and he closes the door behind him. He grins at me . “Those two are fucking morons, but at least I know they’re loyal to me and not my old man,” he says .

“How fortunate for you,” I say dully . “You know, you’re making this way harder than it needs to be,” he says as he sits next to me on the cot. His eyes are darting all over me. “We could be good together .” I glare at him. “What the fuck would I get out of that ?” He grins, showing a mouthful of capped teeth . “My father isn’t gonna live forever,” he says. “In fact, his old man died when he wasn’t much older than my dad is now. Time for new blood .” I shake my head at the thought of it: this lunatic running a mob operation ? “So you’re planning to take over, is that it ?” “You know it, baby. And I’m gonna need a girl on my arm. The kind who can take care of a family. Be the respectable one, the, whaddaya call it? The matriarch. The mother of my children .” Jesus Christ. One minute he’s talking about me stripping on the stage of the Long Island club, the next he’s talking about marrying me. He really is insane. The thought drives a wedge of ice into my

guts – any hope I might have had of reasoning with him is gone . And yet with it comes a clarity of thought for the first time since he brought me here. I fully understand now that there’s no reasoning with him. He’s a rabid animal, and rabid animals have to be put to sleep . Which means, when I finally do attack, I don’t have to hold back. I can put everything Nick taught me to use before I join him in the afterlife. And if Arkady happens to show up there, we’ll take him on together . Jesus, now I think I’m going insane . “What do you think?” he says, fidgeting madly. “The main squeeze. Not the only one, I mean, duh. But the main one, you know ?” My stomach churns as I force myself to smile at him . “Well, why didn’t you say that before?” I ask. “All that talk about stripping kind of turned me off. But this matriarch thing – that’s different. Money, power. Everything I could have had with Nick .” His wild eyes brighten. “I knew that was why you

stayed with him !” “A girl has to make her way in the world,” I say. “I go where the money is .” “Well, I don’t have it all yet, but once the old man is out of the way, it’s all mine. And then you’ll be set .” I nod. “That sounds good .” “Just gotta get one thing over with,” he says, and before I know what’s happening, he’s undoing his belt . “Wh-what are you doing?” I stammer . “Gotta break you in, sweetheart.” He slides the belt out of its loops and unbuttons the top of his pants. “Why did you think I was so obsessed with you ?” “I don’t understand …” “It’s not easy to find a virgin who looks like you,” he says. The look in his eyes clearly shows he meant it as some sick compliment. “I never had one before. Never been the first guy for any girl .” The nausea is back as he takes off his vest and starts unbuttoning his shirt. There are two men

standing at the door. The noise outside means no one will hear my screams. I’m all alone . Intention and focus . I hear Nick’s words in my head as clearly as if he just spoke them in my ear. The time is now. I’m done being a victim. If I go down, I’m going to go down fighting . “There’s just one little problem with that,” I say coyly . Arkady stops in mid-strip, his eyes clouded with confusion . “What do you mean ?” “Nick already got my cherry .” His face twists into a mask of outrage that gives me a deep and abiding satisfaction I never knew was possible . “You bitch,” he hisses. “You – ” “All day, every day.” I grin . As his hand curls into a fist, I hear Nick again in my mind: Fight with everything you have, with no thought about consequences. If someone tries to

hurt you, they’ve made their choice . Arkady loops his fist towards me in a haymaker that has no hope of landing. I counter by driving my own fist straight into his oncoming bicep muscle. The look of pain on his face makes me grin . “You fucking bitch …” I’m not prepared for the kick, and my left knee explodes in pain as the pointed toe of his shoe connects squarely with the muscle right above it. Worse, it makes my whole leg feel like a dead log . He swings an open hand directly for my face and I let it land. The force of it turns my head all the way to the right, even draws a trickle of blood from the corner of my bottom lip. But it gives me a whole new clarity of thought, too . “I’d tell you you hit like a girl,” I say, grinning. “But you don’t .” My own right hand loops towards his chin an uppercut that carries the full force of my twisting hip, and his drug-addled brain doesn’t register it until it’s too late. The pain in my knuckles as it connects with his jaw is sweet . His head snaps back and he stumbles into the door,

almost tripping over his own undone pants. I poise myself for a stomp kick to the chest as a follow-up, but the door flies open as I do, and the force of it colliding with my foot sends me back into the cot . “Grab her!” Arkady shouts, wiping blood from his mouth . Instantly the muscleheads are on me, each grabbing an arm. I twist like a hellion, but it’s no use. Each of them has a good hundred pounds on me . Then Darya appears in the doorway with a bottle in her hand . “Can I?” she asks, eyes dancing . “Be my guest,” Arkady growls. “Bitch needs to learn her place .” She puts a piece of cloth over the mouth of the bottle, and by the time I realize what’s happening, the sweet smell is in my nostrils. Darya keeps the cloth clamped over my mouth despite my struggles, until the fumes finally take effect. The world tilts upside down . Then blackness .

Chapter Sixty-Seven 3 9. STORM Shapes. Shadows. Green. My stomach is rolling . “Did you learn your lesson, sweetums ?” Darya’s grinning face swims into focus, inches from my own. In my dazed state, she reminds me vaguely of Heath Ledger’s Joker . “Whuh…” It’s all I can manage . “Chloroform,” she says. “It’s the quicker knockerouter. Actually, that’s not true. It can take a long time. But it doesn’t leave marks like, say, bashing you over the head with a brick would .” I try to sit up, but the world spins and I lie back down .

“Arkady wants you pretty,” she grins. “So do I. If you keep fighting, I’ll keep knocking you out .” Her words combine with the effects of the chloroform to induce a sense of vertigo. The world is outside my control. I was crazy to think it was otherwise. Crazy to think I could be like Nick . My heart cramps as the memory of him going over the cliff invades my mind. Is that memory going to invade every time I wake up? Am I doomed to watch that movie over and over, every time I close my eyes ? I think I may be going crazy. I can even see his face in the walls of this room . Wait, what ? My heart slams against my chest as I see Nick’s face in the dark. It’s covered in horizontal shadows and he has a finger to his lips . This isn’t in my head. It’s real. It’s all I can do to keep from screaming as it hits home: Nick is in the wall behind the air vent, telling me to be quiet . I take a deep breath to try to get a hold of myself. As much as I want to run to him, to rip the vent cover out of the wall and wrap my arms around

him, I can’t. The only way we’re going to make it out of here is if I can keep all of this off my face . For the first time in my life, I close my eyes and pray: Please, God, if this is real, give me the strength to do what I have to. And if it’s a dream, please don’t let me wake up . “Well?” Darya says, looking at me like I’m an idiot . “Well what?” I force myself to keep from looking at the vent . “Are you going to stop fighting, or are you going to develop a chloroform habit ?” In my peripheral vision, I see Nick’s head move up and down . “I’ll stop fighting,” I say. “I’ll do whatever Arkady wants .” Darya beams. “There! Was that so fuckin’ hard ?” She stands and raps on the door . “Get ahold of yourself for a few minutes,” she says as the thugs open the door for her. “Make yourself presentable. Arkady will be back in a few minutes.

Then you’ll have some fun .” The door closes and the deadbolt sniks shut, locking me in. The instant it does, I leap from the cot and rush to the vent cover . “Use this,” Nick says, handing me a small, flat square through the slats . I can barely see the slots in the screw heads because my eyes are flooded with tears . “I thought you were dead,” I sob, snuffling like a child. “I thought you were gone forever .” The coldness in his eyes is sobering, and I wipe my tears away as he pops the cover carefully out of the way and crawls into the room. This is real life, and we’re in trouble. We have to focus or we could very easily end up dead . I help him to his feet and then crush him in my arms as soon as he’s standing . “I’m not dead yet,” he whispers in my ear. “Maybe soon, but not right now .” What does that mean ? “We don’t have a lot of time,” he says. “We need

to get out of here .” “What about Arkady ?” He takes me by the arms and locks those steely grey eyes on mine . “What do you think we should do?” he asks . I blink. “Me ?” He nods. “You’re the one he hurt the most. Are you ready to kill him ?” My mind reels. An hour ago, I wanted to find the nearest blunt object and split his skull open with it. But now, I’m not as sure. Am I capable of murder ? “I don’t know,” I say. “He won’t stop coming after us .” “I know. But that doesn’t mean we can’t run away .” His words take a few moments to sink in. “Run away ?” “I’m rich, Storm. And that house is just a house. The only things of value in it to me are you and the dogs .”

“But you,” I say. “Arkady tried to kill you .” “Yes, he did. And there was a time not that long ago that I would have killed him instantly, without hesitation, along with anyone who got in my way .” I nod. I understand that about him, and I’ve learned to accept it . His big hands squeeze my arms tenderly. “But that’s not who I want to be anymore .” “What do you mean ?” “I want to be the man you think I am: kind, generous.” He looks at me with an almost childlike pleading. “ Normal .” I stare at him for a few moments. As crazy as it what he said sounded, I understood every word . “All right,” I say. “We’ll go, and we won’t look back .” His eyes meet mine with a softness that says more than words ever could . “A new start,” he says. “A whole new world .” He clasps my hand and leads me through the vent opening and into the oversized duct beyond, then

pulls the cover back into place behind him. From a pack in the corner of the duct, he pulls a roll of matte black tape and straps it over the inside edge of the cover to keep it in place . “That way,” he whispers, point ahead to a light shining around a corner in the ductwork. “There’s an opening to the loading bay. My bike is in the alley waiting for us .” I feel the edges of claustrophobia as we shimmy through the tight space for several dozen yards, but I manage to keep it in check. Still, it feels heavenly when I finally slide out of the open vent in the dim light of the loading bay . Nick runs his hands over my body, inspecting me . “I’m fine,” I say. “Let’s just get out of here .” Nick shoulders his pack and we head for the door. But before we take two steps, my eyes are suddenly filled with blinding white light . I feel Nick’s hand on my arm right before the sound of hands slowly clapping in the distance. I hold up my arms to shade my eyes, but the feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me I already know who it is . “Not bad,” Arkady says as my pupils finally

expand enough for me to make out shapes. “My old man was right about you, Nick. You’re a resourceful guy .” “And you’re a piss-poor shot,” Nick says . Arkady grins. At his side are the two musclemen and, of course, Darya, who is carrying a machete . “You got me there!” Arkady hoots. “You’re a tough man to kill, no two ways about it. But you got a little sloppy this time, hey? There were cameras in that storeroom – we saw the whole thing. Bet that wouldn’t have happened back in the old days, huh? Before you got pussy whipped ?” “We don’t have to do this,” Nick says . “Actually, we do,” says Arkady. “You have to go through us and a whole club full of people to get out of here .” I follow Nick’s gaze to the back door, only to see a thick, padlocked chain running through the crash bar. It’s not going to open for us . “I’m not a bad guy,” Arkady says. “If I could, I’d just shoot you, man. Out of respect for my father and all. But this place is crowded, and shots would cause a panic. People could die. Other than you, I

mean .” “You saw us,” Nick says, holding up both hands. “But did you hear us? What we were talking about ?” Arkady shakes his head. “Sorry, no point in microphones. All the noise in the club and all .” “We talked about getting out,” I say. “About leaving New York behind and starting over. Everybody wins – us, you, your father. No one has to die .” I see Nick square his feet as our four opponents advance on us. Darya looks like a kid on Christmas morning . “Come on, now,” Arkady says with an insane grin. “Where’s the fun in that ?”

Chapter Sixty-Eight 4 0. NICK One of Arkady’s goons snags my pack before I can reach it. He tosses it to the green-haired woman, who rifles through it . “Nice shit,” she says. “Knives, concussion grenades, pistols. You were ready for a full-on war .” “I had to be prepared,” I say. “But it doesn’t have to be a war if you don’t want it to be .” “Oh, I’m all about war,” she says as she tosses the pack back into the vent. “My name’s Darya, by the way. And I’ve still got your fucking mutt’s teeth marks on my wrist .” The two men rush me on either side as Darya heads straight up the middle. I can’t take all three on at once – I manage to fend off the man to my right, but the one to my left gets that arm and Darya lands a stomp kick to my chest . I go down hard, the wind knocked out of me. When I look up, I see Arkady wrestling Storm out of the

bay toward the hall that leads to the main bar area. I clamp down on my tongue to keep from screaming her name. I can’t show weakness . “I been looking forward to this,” Darya says, whipping the machete in a figure-8 pattern in front of her as the two others back away. “You got any idea how much street cred I’ll have as the one who took down Nick Chernenko ?” “I got shot in the head and lived,” I wheeze as I regain my breath. “And you’re bringing a knife to the table ?” She grins. “That was Arkady’s fault. He wanted to be the one who took the shot. I would’ve put it through your eye .” I stagger to my feet and take a defensive stance as she circles me slowly . “You really think Arkady will let you take the credit ?” “We’ll work it out .” I glance at the two musclemen. “You going to let her steal your thunder ?” Neither of them says a word. They both cross their

hands in front of them like a couple of Secret Service agents . All right, then. So much for divide and conquer. This will just have to be conquer. Three times . Darya feints with an overhand blow aimed at my clavicle, pulling back at the last second. I stand my ground without flinching. She takes that as her cue to try the actual move and lets out a sharp yell as she swings the machete down again, only on the opposite angle . I pivot to my left and the blade goes sailing through the air where I used to be. Darya’s made a critical mistake by throwing all of her weight behind the move. I take advantage of it by sticking my foot in front of hers, tripping her to the concrete floor . To my left, I see one of the goons, a guy with a blond crew cut, slowly slide a Bowie knife from the inside of his boot. I’ve rattled him. The other one keeps watching the action with a stoic look on his face . “Last chance,” I say as Darya scrambles to her feet. “Walk away .” The drugs in her system take over and suddenly her eyes are manic as she rushes straight for me,

stabbing forward at chest height. I pivot at the waist, but not before the razor-sharp blade glides across a part of my right pectoral muscle. I feel a searing heat, followed by pain . “First blood,” she taunts . Then she does something I’ve never seen before: she runs her finger along the blood on the blade, then licks it off with a grin. The goon with the knife is even more put off than I am, but the other one keeps his stone face . I can’t let her get to me. The more time I spend with these three, the farther away Arkady gets with Storm. I have to make a sacrifice fly if I want to bring this runner home . I lumber forward with a looping blow, only to have Darya counter it, easily grabbing my right hand in her left. She twists inwards, driving me to my knees as I grunt in pain. As she does, she raises the blade in the air with her right hand, ready to bring it down on my exposed neck . She fully expects to lop off my head. What she doesn’t expect is for me to suddenly drive forward with it, catching her full in the groin. The blade connects with my back but can’t penetrate the Kevlar under my jacket .

Still hurts like hell, though . I make it to my feet as Darya staggers, machete still in hand. But it’s too late – I easily yank the blade away and drive my foot into the inside of her right knee. I hear a satisfying snap and watch her crumple, screaming, to the ground. A second later my boot connects with her skull like an NFL kicker punting on a fourth down . Then my side explodes in pain. I spin to see the blonde holding his Bowie knife, my blood dripping from the blade. He starts to circle slowly, leaping forward to stab and driving me backwards . “I don’t want to have to kill you,” I say. “But I will .” We dance for what seems like forever, each moment taking me farther and farther away from Storm. The pain throbs in my side where the blade sliced me, and I finally decide I have to try a headon attack if I’m going to end this . Just as I’m about to move forward, I see the goon’s attention flicker to something behind me. I hear Darya’s labored breathing right before she strikes, and instinct moves me in an arc as she swings the machete with both hands like a baseball bat. I catch her arm on the fly and add my momentum to hers,

sending the blade whistling through the blonde man’s abdomen . His eyes goggle as he drops to his knees, his guts spilling onto the floor in front of him . Darya barely spares him a glance before she turns back to face me. There’s no rational thought behind those eyes now. She tries one last weak thrust with the machete, which I easily sidestep. An instant later, I have control of the weapon . She glares at me with those coke-fueled eyes and I realize she’s not even feeling the pain from her injuries . “You’re never going to stop, are you?” I say . She grins madly, blood pouring from her gums over her teeth . “All right then .” I make it quick, but it’s still bloody . Finally I turn to the other musclehead, who hasn’t moved since the fight started . “What’s it going to be?” I sigh. “I need to go. Now .”

He steps to the side and waves his hand towards the door that leads to the hallway and the nightclub beyond . “I was just here as insurance,” he says . I blink at him, uncomprehending. He picks up my pack and tosses it to me . “Better get a move on, sir,” he says. “Oh, and Uncle Mookie says hi .” I feel a grin spread across my face as I pass him, despite the pain from my fresh wounds .

Chapter Sixty-Nine 4 1. STORM Whether from cocaine or sheer insanity, Arkady’s brute strength is beating my every attempt to get away from him. His fist is knotted in my hair at the base of my skull – the pain is exquisite . I scream at a group of people gyrating on the dance floor as he hauls me past them. “He’s going to rape me!” They flash me glassy-eyed grins and toast me with their plastic cups full of booze, never losing step with the thumping beat of the music filling every square inch of the club . He yanks me through a lineup at the bar and grabs a bottle of vodka, draining a third of it in one swig as he marches. Finally, he tosses me through a side door into the empty street . “This is my car,” he says, waving at a big black SUV. “Get in .” “Fuck you .” He rolls his eyes. “I don’t have time – ”

The edge of my right palm collides with his Adam’s apple and cuts his reply short. He drops to his knees on the asphalt, gagging and clutching his throat . For my part, I’m doubled over, trying to catch my breath, but still mighty proud of myself . “I just needed some room to move,” I puff, positioning myself in front of him . Next I take my hands off my thighs, clasp my fingers around the back of Arkady’s head and pull downward. At the same time, I bring my right knee up squarely into his nose. The wet cracking noise gives me goosebumps . “Aagghhk,” he grunts, his eyes still wild . As I look down at him, an odd calm comes over me. He’s incapable of defending himself now. After just two moves, I’ve got the upper hand and he’s helpless. Just like how I felt at the party in Long Beach. And on the cliffs with Darya. And in the storeroom upstairs . And now I have the chance to do to him everything he’s done to me. And worse, if I want. I scan the area – there’s not another human being out here for blocks .

“How’s that blood taste going down your throat?” I ask casually, circling him. “Cakes a bit, doesn’t it ?” Arkaday snuffles out a clot of blood onto the pavement. I grimace and look away . “That’s disgusting,” I say, picking him up off his knees by the collar. “Your mother must be proud .” “Shu fuh up about muh mutha …” I open the driver’s side door of his SUV and push him back down to his knees. He leans forward and props his hand on the running board to steady himself . Meanwhile, I close the heavy door on the side of his head with a satisfying thump. When I open it again, he’s swaying . “Would have thought your head was harder than that,” I sneer. “Guess we’ll see what a second one does to you. I have a feeling it’s going to crack like an egg .” “Storm.” I stop in mid-swing as I hear Nick’s voice. I turn to see him stumbling towards me, blood dripping from

his chest and side . “Nick!” I cry, running to him. “Thank God! Are you okay? What happened ?” “Darya and one of the others is dead,” he says. “The other isn’t a threat .” I try to inspect his wounds, but there’s not enough light out here. Meanwhile, Nick looks at Arkady, kneeling against the side of the SUV . “Nice work,” he says. “Come on. We have to go .” “Go?” I ask, incredulous. “I’ve got him where I want him .” Nick’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean ?” “One more slam of this door and it’ll all be over,” I say, standing over Arkady now. “He can never hurt us again .” He shakes his head. “You don’t want to do that, Storm .” I blink at him. “You were the one who told me, if someone attacks me, I need to stop him, no matter the consequences .” “I was wrong,” he says, his eyes boring into mine.

“This is wrong. This is murder. You’re not that person. I know you .” “He made me that person!” I bellow. “He deserves worse than this !” “But you don’t .” “What the hell are you talking about, Nick ?” “You don’t deserve what will happen to you if you kill him,” he says. “What it will do to you, to your soul. Believe me. It eats at you. No matter how justified it is, it will always eat at you .” I goggle at him. The man who taught me to kill is telling me not to . “I need you to trust me on this,” he says. “We can still walk away .” I look down at Arkady, see the blood pooling around his head. Think of his wild eyes, the cocaine flying up his nose, the insane ramblings. It would be so easy to just … But Nick is right. Better to leave him like this . “You owe Nick your life,” I say, toeing Arkady’s head with my shoe. “He convinced me to let you

live .” I crouch down beside him so that my words are for him alone. This is between the two of us . “You’ll always have to live with the knowledge that you were beaten by a woman,” I whisper. “The woman you terrorized. Brutalized. That woman almost killed you, but decided in the end to let you live with it .” I straighten up. “Have a nice life, Arkady,” I say as I turn to walk away . Nick was right. The freedom I feel is incredible. Arkady can never have power over me again . “Storm – ” Nick says, but before he can finish his thought, I feel the forearm around my neck and the cold steel of the gun barrel at my temple . “Shoo of ooked inna cah, bish,” he mumbles. “See muh gun .” My heart races as time seems to slow around me. I hear the gun cock, feel Arkady’s hot breath on my cheek, smell the coppery stench of his blood in my nostrils. My mind swirls as I try to think of a way out .

Then the deafening crack . And the feel of Arkady’s forearm giving way around my throat. I open my eyes to see him sliding to the pavement, a red hole where his right eye was. In front of me, I see Nick, the barrel of the Ruger pointed in my direction, a wisp of smoke escaping . Time catches up and I stagger forward, crashing into him. My body is wracked with tremors, forcing him to hold me up, even with his own injuries . “He can’t hurt you anymore,” he whispers in my ear . I try to get my breathing under control, but Nick grabs my hand and starts pulling me along with him . “It’s not over yet,” he says as we jog . “What do you mean? We’re going to run away .” “I killed Arkady,” he says. “We don’t have that option anymore. They’ll hunt us .” “I don’t understand,” I pant as we reach the alley behind the building. Nick pulls his motorcycle from behind the Dumpster and hands me his helmet .

“We have to go home,” he says. “And prepare for war .”

Chapter Seventy 4 2. INTERLUDE: JOSEF Josef’s heart leaps as his phone finally rings. He’s been waiting for this for hours . “Arkady?” he breathes. “Is that you, son ?” “Sorry, boss,” Mookie says on the other end of the line. “It’s – it’s not him. It’s me. I’m so sorry .” Josef’s heart drops. Even though he knew, deep in his heart, that this was how it would end, he still feels like he’s been punched in the gut. How is he going to tell Pamela that her only son is dead? Killed by the family friend she had lunch with not a week ago ? The whole family will react. Some will demand Nick’s blood. Some will want Josef’s blood. But the common denominator will always be blood . “It’s not your fault, Mook,” he says, sniffing away tears. “He brought it on himself .” “So what do we do now ?”

Josef runs a hand down his haggard face . “We go to war,” he sighs .

Chapter Seventy-One 4 3. NICK The ride home on the Mission is long and silent by necessity. I don’t know what’s going through Storm’s head, but I can hazard a pretty good guess . We came close to getting away. Or did we? The more I think about it, the more I believe this was all a pipe dream. No matter how we played it, the story was going to end this way. People like Arkday can’t be reasoned with, won’t listen to logic. All they’ll ever listen to is their own desires. Like wild animals, they can’t help themselves. They are what they are . I feel Storm’s arms tighten around me. It’s like heaven, despite the driving pain I feel everywhere. Between the fall and the fight, I’m in rough shape . And the night isn’t over yet . *** I kill the light on the bike before we pull into the driveway, on the remote chance that someone is here waiting for us. I doubt word could travel that

fast, but it’s better to be safe . Storm steps off the bike and takes off her helmet. Her blonde hair is matted to her head, and her make-up is a tragic mess, but she’s still the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen . “What happens now?” she asks, eyes wide . “I better get myself fixed up,” I say. “Get some sugar in me, too. I’ve lost a lot of blood .” We go inside and the dogs meet us in the foyer, whining. Delilah licks my hand as Storm helps me to one of the bathrooms and strips off my shirt . “It’s not as bad as it could have been,” she says, inspecting my wounds. “I think we can hold the cuts together with tape .” She washes me and dresses the new wounds, taking tender care not to cause me any more pain than necessary . “It feels good,” I say . “What does ?” “Having someone who loves you taking care of you .”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “I know .” *** A s Storm showers, I sneak away and sit down in the kitchen. Pull out my phone and hit the second of the two numbers in my contact list . Josef picks up on the second ring. We’re both silent for a few seconds . “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” I say. “He didn’t suffer .” That last is a lie, and Josef either knows it already or will know it soon. But it doesn’t matter . “I appreciate the call, Nick .” We’re silent again. What else is there to say ? “I guess we have to wait for the inevitable,” he says . “Yeah. What has to happen has to happen .” “I’m sorry it had to end this way, Nikolai .” “So am I .” “See you on the other side ?”

I smile. “First round is on me .” We hang up. It’s the last time we’ll ever speak to each other . *** I meet her in the bedroom after she’s toweled off. There’s a closed suitcase on the bed . “We can’t dance around it anymore,” she says. “What happens next ?” “Josef and his men will come here for us .” The look on her face tells me that her heart is breaking . “Are we going to go out fighting?” she asks, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Will we at least go out together ?” I close the gap between us and place my palm against her warm cheek . “We’re going out together,” I say. “But not the way you think .”

Chapter Seventy-Two 4 4. INTERLUDE: JOSEF It takes surprisingly little time for Josef to arrange an all-out assault on Nick’s place. A dozen phone calls is enough to summon a small army, all of them willing to lay down their lives for the family’s honor. To avenge their fallen comrade, Arkady, even though he’s almost positive none of them truly cared about his son . The armories are raided for assault rifles, grenades, even a flame-thrower. There’s enough firepower lined up to overthrow a small banana republic. Granted, it is Nikolai Chernenko they’re going to war against . Because of the firepower and the potential for a very public show, Josef hands out more than three hundred grand in bribes to cops, sheriffs, deputies – anyone who might start asking questions afterwards. He can’t get them all, obviously, but he can make sure that the ones he does have can offer a convincing story that will make the investigation go smoothly .

*** T he truck is a military surplus personnel carrier with a canvas tarp. It approaches the Chernenko estate around 3 a.m. from the south via a private back road. They can still trace the tire tracks, but at least there won’t be any witnesses who saw them approach . The driver builds up steam as he approaches the gate and tells everyone to brace for impact. They feel it when the truck’s grill hits the gate at ramming speed, but they regain their equilibrium soon enough. Once inside the compound, they leap out of the truck and form a line across the front of the big house . Josef drops his hand like a general ordering a strike, and they let loose. Thousands of rounds of ammunition pummel the ancient stone exterior, shattering windows and ripping apart old, polished wood into expensive kindling . Grenades are launched onto the second floor, where they tear apart bedrooms and bathrooms and libraries, blowing apart rare books and tapestries. Finally a lone grenade sails through the window of the music room and lands square in the centre of the old Hamlin piano, vaporizing it .

When it’s all done, Josef directs the men to aim the flame-throwers at the main floor and stand ready. Meanwhile, he has the driver, who happens to be Mookie’s nephew, take the truck around to the back of the house. He hoists a pair of heavy bags on his wide shoulders and shuffles into the kitchen with them . Once there, he unzips the bags and removes the bodies inside. One is a large man with a crewcut. The other is a young woman with green hair. They’re far from exact matches, but for the level of investigation that will go into a mob hit, they should be good enough . Once the man is back at the front of the house, Josef gives the order to torch the place. Orange flames light up the night sky for miles around, making more than a handful of neighbors to wake up and wonder if there’s a forest fire, and whether they should evacuate . As the house burns its way down to a pile of ashes, Josef rounds up his men and sends them into the woods. The last order of business is to torch the truck, the last bit of evidence. He stays perhaps a little too long himself, watching the mansion go up in smoke and reminiscing about the old days that will never come again .

Chapter Seventy-Three 4 5. NICK From our vantage point on the shore, all we can see is the orange glow of the fire, but it’s enough to light up the sky almost as bright as a sunrise . “I can’t believe this,” Storm breathes. Beside her the dogs whine and fidget, but they don’t give in to their instinct to run away . “It was the only way,” I say. “To keep the peace, we had to die .” Storm blinks at me, then looks back up at the glowing sky . “You call that keeping the peace ?” I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “What’s the old line about breaking a few eggs to make an omelet ?” “But it was your home,” she says. “All those antiques. The Hamlin. So much of value going up in smoke .”

“There’s no value in things. There’s only value in people.” I lean down and give Samson and Delilah a pat. “And dogs, of course .” We watch the fireworks for a few more minutes before we head to the boat. Storm insists on carrying the case that has our clothes and cash in it. She hoists it into the Trojan’s galley as I climb to the cockpit and take us out to sea . We’re not going far; just to the coast to Narragansett, where I’ll scuttle her. No one will ever know Nikolai Chernenko and Jessica Armstong didn’t die in that house tonight . Well, except for Josef, Mookie and his nephew . From the deck of the Trojan, the fire at the mansion looks like a campfire that’s gotten out of control. As we stare at it disappearing into the distance, Storm snuggles into me against the chill coming off the Atlantic . “How will you access your money?” she asks . “I left it all to my cousin Andrei Grabinski in Siberia,” I say . She frowns. “And you’re sure he’ll give it back to you ?”

“I’m sure,” I say smugly . “Yeah? And why is that ?” “Because I’m Andrei Grabinski. At least, that’s what the new passport I have made up is going to say .” She stares at me, taking it all in. It’s been a long night, and it’s not over yet . “New identities,” she says. “I can’t believe it. My whole life I’ve wished I was someone else. Now I can be .” “So what name are you going to choose?” I ask . She gives me a quizzical look. “Storm. Duh. But you’re going to have to get another passport made after you collect your money .” “Why is that ?” “Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to be Mrs. Storm Grabinski .” I chuckle. “Wait a minute,” I say. “Does that mean what I think it means ?” “What you think what means ?”

“You accept my proposal? I couldn’t be sure – I kind of got shot and fell off a cliff before you answered .” Storm slides her arms under my jacket and closes them gingerly around my wounded torso . “Yes,” she sighs. “Yes, yes, a million times yes .” “I’m sorry about the ring,” I say. “It got lost in the fall .” “You better be, mister. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all night long .” I snort a laugh and she grins . “Maybe it’s a good thing we’re getting new names,” she says. “We’re new people. I’m beating the shit out of bad guys, you’re laughing and making jokes .” “It’s enough to make you believe in miracles,” I say . It’s meant as a joke, but Storm turns serious and squeezes me tighter . “It was a miracle that brought us together,” she whispers. “I believe that with all my heart .”

I kiss her forehead. “We met in a rainstorm, and we’ve been reborn in fire. There’s definitely something Old Testamenty about that .” “Can I ask you something? A favor ?” “Anything.” “This boat is where we met for the first time. Where you saved my life .” I nod . “And you’re going to sink it once we get to Rhode Island ?” “Yes.” The thought of it sparks just the tiniest twinge of regret . She leans in close. “I’d like to thank my hero properly for saving me that night,” she purrs. “And what better place to do it than where it all started ?” I gape at her for a moment, wondering how, after everything that’s happened tonight, she could possibly be horny . Then I give my head a shake and remind myself to be thankful for small favors .

I pick her up off the deck, ignoring my screaming wounds, and carry her down to the saloon. She lies back on the bunk and pulls me down to her. We make love slowly and tenderly for the first time as an engaged couple . And for the first time as two truly free people, sailing headlong to meet their destiny .

74

EPILOGUE S TORM “Think it’s enough?” Nick asks when he sees me glancing into the big cooler on wheels. It’s filled with eight good-sized red snapper . I shrug. “It’s Tuesday. I doubt we’ll get more than a dozen catch-of-the-day orders. We should be fine .” “All right,” he says. “Might as well head back in .” The trawler is far bigger than we need, but Nick loves having a boat, and it might as well be one we can use. Today is a typical day – most of the morning spent on the water, followed by evening at our restaurant, Nicky’s By Night, pretending to be working but in reality, just putzing around, socializing with customers, and having fun . I know, it’s a hard life . Nick spins the wheel and points us back toward the beach at Surfer’s Paradise, where Nicky’s is located, and hits the throttle. The motion wakes Samson and Delilah, who come bounding up from their napping spot in the galley and join us on the

deck . As always, it’s a beautiful day in Gold Coast. Nick wraps his arms around me from behind and sets his chin on my shoulder. It took a while to get used to that bare chin, not to mention the close-cropped hair that he’s sported since we moved to Australia eighteen months ago . It does make him look younger, though. Officially, he actually is younger, thanks to shaving a few years off his age on his new passport. I added a few just to bring us closer to meeting in the middle . “Happy Tuesday, Mrs. Webber,” he says in my ear . “Happy Tuesday, Mr. Webber,” I reply . It’s a ritual we came up with where we celebrate every single day, just because we can. We’re lucky that we have the luxury of doing that, just like we had the luxury of living anywhere in the world that we wanted to. Ultimately, we chose Oz because it’s about as far away from New York as you can get and still be in the civilized world . The trawler chugs into the harbor and we settle into the berth that costs us a lot more than we make from selling our catch of the day. But that’s the price of happiness, I guess .

“Oi! How’s your snapper ?” I shake my head and chuckle as Louise ambles up to the boat. As always, she’s got a shit-eating grin on her face . “Even after a year, that joke hasn’t gotten old,” I say . “I know.” She grins. “It’s a keepah .” Lou is our manager at Nicky’s By Night. We met her and her husband James at a casino on our first night in Gold Coast, and we hit it off right out of the gate. Lou is a few years older than me, but we’ve been inseparable for over a year. When we found out she used to manage a Nando’s in Brisbane, we took it as a sign, since Nick and I don’t know the first thing about running a restaurant . “What brings you to the docks?” Nick asks, rolling the cooler down the gangplank . “Hugh from the dairy’s got a bit of a payment problem,” she says . “We paid the bill,” I say. “I know we did .” “That’s just it – you paid it twice .”

“Tell him to keep the extra as a tip,” says Nick . Lou shakes her head. “Youse two’ve lost the plot, I swear. You can’t run a business when it doesn’t make money .” “Sure we can.” I grin. “We’re rich .” “But you won’t be if you keep doing things like payin’ the dairy man twice !” Nick and I share a secret glance. We both know that if Lou got a close look at the books, she’d see just how much money Nicky’s is losing, and if she did, she’d seriously start to question our backstory. We’d rather that didn’t happen . “How would you like a raise?” Nick asks . Lou’s eyes go wide. “There you go again! Every time I question youse about money, you give me a rise in pay !” “Do the checks bounce?” I ask . “That’s not the point !” Nick and I clasp each other’s hands as the dock runs out and we step onto the stretch of sidewalk that will take us to the restaurant. Lou follows,

fretting . “You’re going to get wrinkles,” I say . “Bloody right,” she grumps. “And you’ll be bloody paying for my eye tuck .” Nick leans in to my ear. “Happy Tuesday,” he whispers with a grin . *** I t’s after midnight, and I’m the only one who isn’t drinking. Which is lucky for James and Louise, because they need a ride home . “I like this Happy Tuesday thing,” James slurs, finishing his umpteenth Jim Beam and Coke. “You guys came up with it yourselves ?” “It’s a philosophy,” says Nick. “Celebrate every day, because you never know which one is going to be your last .” Lou frowns and sucks back the cherry from her cosmo. “It’s easier when you have money,” she says . “Speaking of that,” Nick says. “We got some tonight .”

He wanders over to the front counter with the bag of cash receipts. I can see just the slightest weave in his step . “I do believe my hubby might be just the tiniest bit shnockered,” I whisper to Lou . “Speaking of that,” she says. “Have you …?” “Not yet,” I say quickly . “Any reason why not ?” “I’m waiting for the right time .” “There’s no right time, girl .” Before I can say anything back, I hear a sudden slam from the front of the restaurant. From my vantage point, I can only see Nick, hands in the air, backing up slowly . “Nick?” I call. “What’s – ” Then I see what he can see as a man in a hooded sweatshirt emerges from behind a stub wall. He’s pointing a sawed-off shotgun at Nick’s face . “Stay where you are,” Nick says evenly. “Everything is fine .”

For a moment my heart stops and my mind invents a scenario: he’s a member of the Volkov family. It’s over. Our idyllic life has come to an end . “Oh my God,” I whisper. “They found us .” Then I see the man reach for the bag of cash and I realize he’s just a robber looking for anything he can get . “Take it all,” Nick says. “Whatever you want .” The man turns to face James, Louise and me. He gives us an appraising look . “Give me your shit, too,” he says . James pulls himself up to his full height. He’s a tall man, and has the weight to back it up. Plus he’s drunk . “What if I tell you to piss off, wanker?” he growls . “James,” Nicks says, shaking his head. “It’s not worth it .” “Fucking punk,” he mumbles, and suddenly the man with the gun is charging him. He jams the barrels directly into James’s chest . “Who’s funny now, fuckface?” the guy barks .

I barley have time to register Nick’s movements before it’s all over. He covers the space between him and the gunman in one second flat, reaches for the guy’s wrists and twists, simultaneously twisting his own hips. The result is the gunman being tossed in a perfect circle and ends up with him landing flat on his back on the floor . Nick cracks open the gun and ejects the shells, then tosses it behind the bar . James has gone white as a ghost . “Jesus, Nick,” he mutters . “No worries,” he says, crouching down to grab the intruder by the collar. “This fella is just misguided. Isn’t that right, buddy? You’re going to change your ways starting right now, hey ?” The guy’s eyes are bugging out of his head. “Ababsolutely,” he stammers . “That’s right,” says Nick, leveling him with a cold stare. “Because you never know when the guy you try to rob is someone like me. But instead of letting you walk out under your own steam, maybe he’ll jam both barrels in your mouth and blow your fucking head clean off .”

This glimpse of the old Nick is disconcerting, and yet somehow exciting at the same time. He gives the guy one final kick in the ass and watches him bolt out the front door . Nick comes over and sits with us, tipping back the last of his beer before realizing that James and Louise are goggling at him . “What?” he asks . I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to hold back a totally inappropriate laugh . *** “W e’re lucky Lou and James were drunk,” Nick says. “Otherwise I don’t think we could have convinced them not to call the police .” He puts a glass of wine on the table in front of me on our back patio. As always, it’s a beautiful night, so we’re outside enjoying it. He pops his bottle of beer and sits down next to me, looking up at the sky. The dogs are taking advantage of the cooler night air to snooze in the grass . “I have to confess,” I say. “There was a moment when I thought the past had caught up to us .”

Nicks takes a pull of his beer. “Me, too .” “You were pretty magnificent, though,” I say. “Nikolai Chernenko came back for a brief visit .” “Very brief,” he says. “It stopped being fun really quickly .” “Really? You’re sure you don’t miss it? Not even a little ?” “Not even a little,” he says. “I like Happy Tuesday. And Happy Wednesday. And Happy Every day .” “So this hawk’s now a dove? Is that it ?” He leans in and kisses me hard. Even now, his touch can take my breath away . “Still a little hawk left?” he says . “Yeah,” I sigh. “A little .” We look up at the stars. Our place in Gold Coast isn’t anything like the house in Montauk. It’s maybe 2,500 square feet, and being right in the city, we don’t get the ebony black skies where we can sit all night and count the stars. But we can still see enough . “Crazy how the constellations are totally different

down here,” Nick says. “I’m still not used to them .” I grin. “No crazier than the two of us down here, a world away from where we used to be. We’re as different from those two people as these constellations are from the ones we used to know .” He smiles. “That’s deep .” “As someone once told me, I have unplumbed depths .” He chuckles and finishes off his beer . “You haven’t touched your wine,” he says. “It’s an Australian shiraz, your favorite .” I look down at the table for a moment, then back up at him. I’ve been dreading this moment. And dreaming about it. We’ve never talked about it before, and now – now I guess we have to . “Babe, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, but… I wasn’t sure if it was something you wanted to hear .” His brow knits. “O-kay …” I put a hand on top of his. Here goes nothing .

“We’re going to have a baby .” His face goes slack. I knew it. He’s in shock. He doesn’t want this . “Babe, I’m so sorry – ” He blinks at me. “Sorry? What for ?” “It’s just that, we never talked about kids, and I didn’t know if you …” “If I wanted a baby ?” “Yeah.” He leans into me and takes my hands in his. “Storm,” he says, gazing into my eyes. “I’m over the moon .” My heart soars. “You are ?” “Honey, I’m not getting any younger, no matter what my passport says. I’ve been waiting for the right time to ask you if you wanted kids .” “I wasn’t sure I was ready,” I say. “But then it happened, and I – I started to get excited .” He beams at me. “This is incredible,” he says. “Before I met you, I honestly thought I’d just live

and die alone. The idea of being a father never even entered my head .” “I felt exactly the same way. I couldn’t take care of myself before I met you, let alone a baby. Motherhood felt like just a pipe dream back then .” Nick grins. “It’s another miracle in a series of miracles .” “I guess it is .” He takes my hand and leads me out into the yard, where we lie down in the cool grass and look up at the stars. I can hear Samson and Delilah snoring softly on the other side of the yard . “Both of us did a lot of things wrong in our lives,” he says. “But this – this is something we’ve done right .” “There is one thing we’ve always done right,” I whisper, taking his hand and placing it on my breast. “In fact, I think we’re pretty damn good at it .” He leans over me and unbuttons my blouse as my hand reaches for the waistband of his cargo shorts. One thing about moving to Australia, it’s expanded Nick’s wardrobe options from jeans and black T-

shirts to cargo shorts and short-sleeved beach shirts . I slough off my top; the night air feels deliciously cool against the skin of my bare breasts. He undoes my skirt and pulls it down, until I’m fully naked and feeling the texture of the grass against my body . His cock is already at attention by the time I get his shorts off. His fingertips stroke my belly, raising goosebumps all along my skin . “Sometimes I think about the first time you touched me that day in the dojo and it makes me shiver,” I whisper. “You still make me feel like that now. Like a real woman .” He sighs as my hand finds his shaft and strokes it, gently but firmly . “I was always so in control of myself,” he sighs. “And then you touched me, and I lost it. You made me go crazy, to the point where all I wanted was to feel you .” “And now?” I ask . He puts his lips on mine and our tongues find each other. His hands roam across my breasts, then wander down below. I’m instantly wet, and

suddenly all thought of foreplay is gone . “You tell me,” he says, pushing my legs apart and pulling me toward him like an animal. I quiver uncontrollably as he thrusts into me all the way to the hilt . We’ve done this hundreds of times, and each time is better than the last. But now, there’s something different. An urgency that I haven’t felt since those early days, when we were exploring each other, discovering new pleasures . “My Storm,” he moans as his thrusts pick up speed. “Always and forever, my Storm .” My hips move in time with his thrusts and I spread my legs as wide as they can go, pulling him down to me. I wrap my arms around his neck and put my head beside his so I can nibble on his neck as he drives himself back and forth inside of me . This isn’t just desire or fun this time, but a deep need to feel him inside me. To celebrate the pleasure that he brings me, to share the passion that bonded us, that made our child . “Nikolai,” I whisper in his ear. “My sweet, sweet Nikolai .”

His muscles ripple under my hands and I grip onto them as the beginnings of the earthquake start to pool in my belly. His thrusts are coming so fast now, so deep, I won’t be able to hold on for long. It’s like that first time at the pool, where we lost all control, needing to feel each other, to release our burning passion . He rolls onto his back, carrying me with him so that I’m on top now. I collapse on top of him, my breasts mashed against his chest, as he grips my hips and revs up the desire to a jackhammer, driving my consciousness right out of me until there’s nothing left but a bolt of lightning running through me, every cell ready to burst with pleasure . “Oh God, Nick,” I pant. “I can’t… I can’t hold on …” He wraps his arms around me for dear life as he thrusts one last time before erupting inside me like a volcano, over and over and over, making me shudder until I collapse on top of him, the sound of my heartbeat rushing through my ears . We lay like that in each other’s arms for a long time, our sweat evaporating in the cool night air . “You’re going to be an amazing mother,” Nick

whispers finally . Tears well up in my eyes. “And you’re going to be an incredible dad .” “Two broken people who managed to fix themselves,” he says. “Because of each other .” I dab at my eyes with my palm. “When did you become a poet ?” “Last week,” he says. “I watched a YouTube video .” I giggle, weeping at the same time. “Another pop culture reference for Nikolai,” I say. “He’s on a roll .” “Storm?” he says . “Yeah?” “I think we’re going to be okay .” I lay my head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against my cheek, the lion’s strength and the sweet tenderness inside it, and I smile . “I know we are,” I say. “After all, we’re miracles .”

Part III

Keeping Her On the run ? Check. Sleeping with the enemy ? Check. Yeah, things got a little messed up . Everybody deserves a second chance . And this is mine . $150,000 to dig up dirt on some billionaire CEO ? Easy money . Until I walk into the boardroom and see Chance’s gorgeous face . But there’s no smile on that chiselled jawline . Not for me .

Not for the girl who broke his heart . Now I’m not just the girl who left him . I’m the woman trying to take his company, too . He’ll do anything to save it . Even me …

Chapter Seventy-Five 1 . SARA I wake up to the sound of an air horn blaring in my ear, and the taste of used cat litter in my mouth . I vaguely remember being at the Toad & Turtle with Grace. Shots. Cosmos. Dancing with some guy with a man-bun. His hand roaming around under my shirt . My clumsy, hung-over attempt to grab the iPhone from my bedside table sends it crashing to the floor, where it lands on the hardwood with a sickening clack . The initial stab of panic subsides when I remember the screen was already cracked to shit anyway . The thing lies teasingly close to my fingertips as I reach for it from the bed. Fuck. My throbbing head is telling me I really don’t want to lift it from the pillow unless this is a life-or-death emergency that can’t be ignored. Why the hell did I make an air horn my ringtone ? Oh yeah: because every call I get could be a life or

death emergency that can’t be ignored . My fingers finally close around the mobile and carry it up to the ear that’s not muffled by my pillow. Somehow my thumb finds the answer button . “Sara Bishop,” I mutter. “This better be good .” “No, Ms. Bishop,” says the man on the other end of the line. “You better be good, or you won’t be getting a six-figure paycheck for a month’s work. Is that clear ?” Suddenly my eyes are wide open. Did he just say six figures? For a month’s work ? I lurch forward in my bed, prompting a wave of protest from both my head and my stomach, and cover the phone with my hand as I clear last night’s bottle of Stolichnaya from my throat . “I’m very sorry,” I say in my most professional tone. Thank God he can’t actually see me right now. “I thought you were one of my employees. They have strict instructions not to disturb me while I’m on a case .” In reality, I don’t have any employees. The only “associate” in Bishop & Associates is my sister,

Grace, and she was just as blitzed as I was last night . “Well, you’re going to drop that case,” says the voice, “because my driver will be meeting you in the lobby of your building in about thirty minutes. Got it ?” I glance at my watch – it’s 7:00 a.m. Who the fuck does this guy think he is, phoning me up in the middle of the night and giving me orders ? “Pardon me,” I say with a touch of coldness. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name .” “My name is Quentin Pearce, and if you don’t tell me who I am in the next ten seconds, I’m hanging up and moving on to the next name in the phone directory .” A jolt of adrenaline runs through me, and with it comes a throb in my poor head. Anyone who doesn’t know the name Quentin Pearce must be completely unplugged from the business world: he’s the financial rock star who came out of nowhere and built Wall Street’s largest private equity firm out of the ashes of the 2008 market meltdown . Suddenly, the six-figure offer becomes all too real – Pearce probably spends more than that on shoes in

a year. And he’s not known for his patience . “You’re the head of Empire Group,” I say quickly. “Obviously, I can be available immediately for such a high-profile client .” “Right answer,” he says. “I’ll see you at 7:30 .” He hangs up before I can say anything. Perfect – I’ve got thirty minutes to shake this hangover, get showered and dressed, and run the three blocks from my apartment to the building where my office is located . Piece of cake. Groan . It’s a good thing Pearce is too busy to come to the office itself, or he’d see it’s actually just a couple hundred square feet that I sublet from a law firm that owes me a favor. Grace and I do almost all of our business by phone and at various locations around Chicago, but the prestigious downtown address helps attract the right kind of client . I hit Grace’s number in my phone as I yank an outfit out of my closet, then put it on speaker as I pull off last night’s clothes and crank the shower to hot. She finally picks up after the fifth ring, by which point I’m already in the process of washing the stank out of my armpits .

“Leave me alone,” she groans. “Let me die in peace .” I give my nether regions a good once-over with the body wash before rinsing off and hopping out onto the raggedy bath mat. I may feel like shit, but at least I’ll smell like cranberries . “Listen up,” I say. “Quentin Pearce wants to pay us six figures for a month’s work. I’m meeting him in twenty-five minutes ” The line is quiet for a full ten seconds as I lather up my toothbrush . “Ihd ooh heah me?” I say through a mouthful of toothpaste . “Why did you wake me up just to tell me a stupid lie? You really need help, you know that ?” I rinse and spit. “It’s the real thing,” I say. “A year’s worth of income for a month of work .” “Are you sure you didn’t just dream this ?” I might wonder that myself if the act of buttoning my blouse didn’t cause my eyes to cross and my hands to shake. This hangover is anything but a dream .

“Trust me,” I say. “I recognized the voice from TV .” I shrug into my suit jacket and slide on my shoes before realizing my skirt is still in the closet. I drop my phone into the crook of my shoulder and retrieve the skirt to finish getting dressed . “That’s crazy,” says Grace, finally sounding awake. “What does he want us to do for the money? And why us ?” I grab my keys and purse as I dash through the door into the hallway and toward the stairs. There isn’t time to wait for the elevator to get to the sixth floor . “I don’t know,” I say, my heels echoing through the concrete stairwell. “And to be honest, for six figures, I don’t really give a shit .”

Chapter Seventy-Six 2 . SARA Quentin Pearce is just as good-looking in real life as he is on television: flowing silver hair, chestnut eyes, a jaw that looks like it was chiseled out of marble, impeccable Italian suit . Charm, on the other hand… not so much . “I’ll cut right to the chase,” he says by way of introduction after his driver, a tall, muscular German woman, silently ushers me into the back of the limo. “You’re on the clock as of right now. In a few minutes, we’ll be in a board meeting at Atlas Security. Ever heard of it ?” “I’m afraid not,” I say in my business voice. “Should I have ?” “No,” he says. “In fact, if you said you had, I would have accused you of lying and told you to get out .” Like I said, charming. But his money’s as green as anyone else’s, and right now, Bishop needs it. So does the “& Associates,” so she’ll stop bumming

money off of her sister . Pearce flips through a stack of papers for a few moments, so I check out the limo’s interior. It’s a late-model Bentley with four captain’s chairs, two on either side facing a workstation in the center. This is a mobile office, not one of those party buses that college girls rent for a twenty-first birthday weekend in Vegas . I see my reflection in the tinted glass and marvel at how together I look: my auburn curls somehow managed to not tangle themselves into a rat’s nest overnight, and the undersides of my baby blues are remarkably bag-free. I’m batting a thousand . “Atlas Security is a multi-billion-dollar company,” Pearce says, eyes still on his papers. “They work with governments and corporations to handle the kinds of problems that are too messy for most people .” “Such as ?” He glances up at me and cocks an eyebrow. His eyes wander over me for a moment before looking back down at his papers . “You’re hot,” he says. “Good for you .”

Easy, Prince Charming, I might swoon . “Atlas specializes in humanitarian paramilitary work,” he continues. “Yes, I know, that sounds like an oxymoron. It started out as a typical defense contractor in 2005, in the aftermath of the invasion of Iraq. In 2010, it refined its focus to handle crisis situations – hostage negotiations and extractions, protection duty for aid workers and refugees in war zones, post-disaster security – basically anything that might require a soldier, outside of actual warfare .” I nod. Private security companies have been a reality since before 9/11, though I’ve never heard of one with a humanitarian focus . “Since then, the company’s value has soared,” Pearce says. “That’s why Empire Group is going to buy it .” “Sounds reasonable,” I say. “But I still don’t see where Bishop & Associates fits into the equation .” He slides the papers back into a slim leather briefcase and snaps it shut as the limo comes to a stop. Outside the window is the familiar bustle of Michigan Avenue . “You’re a private investigator,” he says. “You

specialize in digging up dirt, right ?” Actually, I specialize in locating and helping abused girls. But for what he’s offering, I’m willing to do just about anything . “It’s in my wheelhouse,” I say. “Now let’s discuss my fee .” “Later,” he says, grabbing the door handle . “Now,” I say . My heart and head are pounding with adrenaline – I’m taking a risk by pushing the money, I know, but I can’t shake the feeling that Pearce is the kind of shark who senses weakness. And exploits it . He gives me another appraising glance before opening the door . “Five thousand a day, plus expenses,” he says. “One hundred and fifty grand and change for thirty days. Take it or leave it .” “I’ll take it,” I say as I slide out of my seat and step onto the avenue . I play it cool, but inside my heart is doing backflips. That kind of money will pay our bills for the whole

year and then some, so we’ll be able to take on the kind of cases that really matter . I smooth my skirt, but Pearce is already opening the door to the building’s lobby, so I jog to catch up, or as close to jogging as I can get in these heels. I get the sense the world is always five minutes behind Quentin Pearce . “Now, the question is: what do I have to do?” I ask . “Follow my lead,” he says, stabbing the button for the elevator. “And keep your mouth shut .”

Chapter Seventy-Seven 3 . CHANCE “Quentin Pearce can kiss my ass,” I say . Tre sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as I stuff the last bite of my breakfast burrito in my mouth and wash it down with the dregs of my coffee. His tailored gray suit is impeccable, as usual, highlighting his dark skin and a physique that could get him a tryout with an NFL team if he was willing to take the pay cut . Personally, I can’t be bothered to wear a suit at the office, and it drives him nuts. At least I’m not wearing cargo shorts today . “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Tre says. “This isn’t a bar fight, Chance. You can’t just flip the guy the bird and challenge him to settle it outside .” “No, you can’t do that,” I say with a grin. “Because you’re a big ol’ pencil-pushing geek. I, on the other hand, fought with the Marines in Iraq while you were going to Harvard Business School .”

“You’re damn lucky I did, white boy. You need me around here to tell you to keep that swinging dick of yours in your pants with Pearce. He’s a shark, dude; he’ll bite it off .” “I’m a shark, too,” I remind him . “No, you’re not,” he says. “You’re a tough guy. There’s a difference. I know guys who’ve dealt with Pearce – he’s crazy smart, and he doesn’t give a shit about anything except money. In fact, I think the guy might actually be a sociopath. He’s going to walk into that meeting with a big fucking check, and you better believe the board is going to take it seriously .” I brush the crumbs off my casual cotton shirt into my office sink and pour myself another cup of coffee. Tre declines my offer of a cup for him . “I trust the board,” I say. “They believe in me and what I’m doing to preserve Sully’s legacy. They’ve told me so plenty of times .” “I know that,” Tre says, propping his butt on the edge of my desk. “But money’s got a way of making people do weird shit, like selling out and buying an island somewhere. And remember, you may have the most shares in Atlas, but the Sullivans combined have more than you .”

He’s right. If they did choose to sell, Pearce – or, more likely, whoever buys Atlas from him – will have controlling interest . “I’m not going to let them get suckered into anything,” I say. “I put my heart and soul into this company, and Quentin Pearce can’t compete with that, no matter what he’s offering .” Tre’s eyebrows go up as he tilts his head. I’ve seen that look a thousand times since we were kids – it means he doesn’t agree . “Okay, Chance,” he says. “You’re the boss .” I frown. Much as I hate to admit it, Tre is smarter than me, even though I’m the CEO and chairman and he’s the president. I’ve got guts to spare, but he was the one who always got straight As . “All right, whenever you say that, it means I’m doing something stupid .” He shrugs. “I’m just saying be prepared to fight for your company. Maybe it won’t come to that – I hope it doesn’t come to that – but if it does, you need to be ready .” The clock on the wall rolls over to 8:00 a.m., so I get up and drop an arm on Tre’s shoulder, leading

him to the door and the boardroom beyond . “I know you got my back, just like always,” I say. “And I’ll watch my step. But I really don’t see anything in this meeting to be concerned about .”

Chapter Seventy-Eight 4 . SARA “As far as anyone knows, you’re the lead on Empire’s due diligence team,” Quentin tells me as the elevator climbs toward the thirtieth floor. He raises a hand to cut me off when I try to speak. “I know, you don’t have any experience in examining a company’s financials. It doesn’t matter. I’m not looking for figures on Atlas; I’m looking for dirt on its CEO, who’s also the chairman .” That actually sounds like it might be kind of fun, assuming this CEO of theirs is like the ones in the movies: sucking up huge bonuses while shipping jobs overseas and putting people out of work, lighting his cigars with hundred-dollar bills, yadda yadda yadda. I don’t know for sure that this guy is like that, but it makes the job easier if I believe he is . The elevator dings as the doors open on the offices of Atlas Security. They aren’t huge – it’s just a single floor of the building – but they’re really cool. They remind me of The Good Wife , with lots of wood and glass, low ceilings. Classy, but not

ostentatious . Ugh. I’m too hungover to be using words like “ostentatious .” A young woman in a power suit meets us in the reception area with a practiced smile . “Mr. Pearce,” she says. “They’re expecting you in the boardroom, if you’ll please follow me .” She leads us down a hallway to a room with frosted glass walls. Inside is a group of eight people sitting at a long walnut conference table. They range in age from thirtyish, like me, to a lady who looks to be in her late sixties. Several of them have hazel eyes with an almost golden hue, which makes me wonder if they’re related . The older lady rises and extends a hand to Quentin . “Mr. Pearce,” she says. “Good to see you again .” “Mrs. Sullivan,” he says, taking her hand. “Always a pleasure .” “You know the rest of the family,” Mrs. Sullivan says as the people seated behind her nod .

He flashes them a painted-on grin. If I had just met him, I might fall for it, but after spending the last hour with him, that smile looks about as real to me as a Barbie doll’s cooch . The money , I remind myself. Picture yourself filling the tub with hundreds and bathing in it . Quentin waves a hand in my direction . “Ladies and gentlemen, this is my associate, Sara Bishop of Bishop & Associates. She’s the tip of my due diligence spear, and I’ve invited her to sit in on our conversation in the hopes that you’ll consider Empire’s offer .” Mrs. Sullivan shakes my hand cordially before sitting back down. The rest of the people nod again without offering their names. I guess they figure Quentin will fill me in later . He takes a seat opposite them at the table and opens his briefcase. After a few moments, he impatiently motions for me to sit down, too. What, was I supposed to read his mind? I’m kind of out of my element here . “I believe you’ll find the offer very generous,” he says, drawing a stack of papers from the case and laying them on the table .

Mrs. Sullivan smiles, but it doesn’t reach all the way to her eyes. I get the sense she’s not my new associate’s biggest fan . “You know we have to wait for the chairman,” she says. “Starting the meeting without him would be improper. And quite possibly illegal .” Quentin’s grin turns sheepish. “Of course,” he says. “What was I thinking ?” Mrs. Sullivan’s expression tells me she knows exactly what he was thinking. I like her already . An awkward minute passes in silence as we wait. Quentin taps his pen on his legal pad while I work furiously to keep my hangover from showing in front of these people. It’s not easy, but I manage to pull it off. I think . Then the frosted glass door opens, and I see a pair of iron gray eyes enter the room, as familiar to me as the ones I see every day in the mirror . Suddenly my head is spinning, and I’m clutching the arms of my chair to keep from falling to the floor .

Chapter Seventy-Nine 5 . CHANCE I grew up an orphan on Philadelphia’s meanest streets. I’m a trained Marine with extensive experience in combat, counter-intelligence and other things I prefer not to talk about. I built a multi-billion-dollar company with a combination of sweat, brains and sheer willpower . I’ve always believed I was prepared for anything that might come my way . Turns out I was wrong . I expected to see Quentin Pearce. What I didn’t expect to see was the girl who carried my heart in her back pocket in high school sitting beside him . Beside me, I see Tre’s eyes widen as a grin spreads across his face . “Well, I’ll be damned,” he says, walking over to her. She stands up to greet him and he pulls her into a hug. “Sara Bishop! How the hell are you ?!” Sara smiles back, but I can tell by her eyes that

she’s just as shocked as I am that Tre and I walked through the door. Tre lets go of her, giving me an unobstructed view of the swimmer’s body that I used to hold onto for dear life during our epic make-out sessions in the storeroom of the rec center in Hunting Park . “Not nearly as good as you, Mr. Tre Carter,” Sara replies, pinching the sleeve of his suit and rubbing the fabric between her fingers. “Last time I saw you, you were in that god-awful rented prom tux !” Tre chuckles. “Mom still has a framed photo of me in that monstrosity on the mantel over her fireplace .” “Oh, man, I miss your mom. How is she ?” “Hasn’t changed .” “Tough as nails and soft as butter ?” He chuckles again. “You know her well. But hey, I’m hogging you here. I’m sure you want to say hello to this ugly bugger .” Sara’s eyes meet mine and she works hard to keep the smile on her face. Fighting every instinct in me, I manage to smile back .

“Long time no see, Chance,” she says . Not nearly long enough . “Sure is,” I say. “You look good .” As if “good” can sum up perfection. I can see she’s still in amazing shape, even under her business suit. Her hair is a shade darker than it was in school, more auburn than red now, but those Ceylon sapphire eyes are still as hypnotic as they always were . What the hell is she doing here in Chicago? With Quentin Pearce, of all people ? As if reading my mind, Pearce stands and shakes my hand, then Tre’s . “Gentlemen,” he says. “You obviously know Ms. Bishop. Good. Saves me having to do introductions; we can get right down to business .” Same last name. No wedding ring . Snap out of it! Something stinks here . “As happy as I am to see her, I have to wonder what Sara’s doing at this meeting,” I say, trying to keep my galloping emotions out of my voice .

“Due diligence,” Pearce says before Sara can open her mouth. “Empire will obviously be doing a great deal of research on Atlas Security’s operations as this deal progresses .” Across the table, Agnes Sullivan clears her throat to get Pearce’s attention. She’s quick, and she doesn’t take any shit whatsoever . “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself, Quentin?” she asks. “We haven’t even seen the offer yet .” The rest of the family murmurs their agreement. They’re good people, the Sullivans. So was their dad, Agnes’s husband, Patrick. I may have built Atlas into what it is today, but I never would have been in the position to do that if it hadn’t been for him . I still miss Sully every single day. His portrait hangs on the wall behind my desk as a constant reminder of why we do what we do . Pearce pulls a USB drive from his briefcase and slides it into the projector on the table. A few seconds later, there’s a proposal beaming onto the screen on the boardroom wall . “I think the offer will speak for itself,” he says

matter-of-factly . To him, this is a done deal. He’s got another think coming .

Chapter Eighty 6 . SARA Thank God they’re all looking at the PowerPoint now instead of at me. My hands are shaking so badly, they might think I’m suddenly going through drug withdrawals or something . Two hours ago, my biggest worries were dealing with my hangover and making my rent. Now I’m sitting in a boardroom with a $150,000 contract to investigate Chance Talbot – who just happens to be the high school boyfriend whose heart I broke fifteen years ago . I drop my hands under the table and pinch the skin between my thumb and forefinger hard enough to make myself wince. Shit – the pain is real. This isn’t a nightmare . “As you can see, Empire is prepared to be aggressive in our acquisition,” Quentin drones beside me. It barely registers with me, though, because all I see is Chance. This isn’t the boy who used to nibble my neck in the storeroom of the old rec center and promise me that we were going to

make it big someday . This is a man . Tre was always a beefy football player, but Chance is something else now. He must live in the gym, the way he fills out that golf shirt. The fabric clings to his shoulders and chest and arms, but billows down at his waist where it’s tucked into his khakis. There isn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on him that I can see . Then why is it I can’t stop staring at his eyes? Those flinty, ash-colored eyes that always used to light up whenever they saw me . They’re not lighting up this now. In fact, he’s been avoiding eye contact with me since Quentin started talking. And I can’t blame him . “Our offer is $25 a share,” says Quentin. “Obviously I don’t know exactly how your shares are structured, but that price should be enough to make each of you a millionaire about a hundred times over .” Across the table, Mrs. Sullivan plays it cool, but the interest in her eyes is plain to see . “You’re assuming we’ll each sell all of our shares,” she says .

“That’s a condition of the deal,” he says flatly. “It’s all or nothing. You either agree to give over control, or the offer goes away .” “Then you might as well go home right now,” Chance says, arms crossed. “There’s no way I’m selling .” “We don’t need your shares,” says Quentin. “The rest of the board makes up the controlling interest. If they sell and you don’t, Empire will simply replace you as chairman and CEO. You’ll be a shareholder, nothing else .” Chance looks over to the board’s side of the table, shaking his head . “Agnes,” he says. “Tell him what you think of his offer so we can all get on with our days .” Typical Chance. Wears casual clothes when everyone else in in suits, calls the shareholders by their first names, and just assumes he’s right. He may be a lot more powerful now, but he’s still the same little thug I fell in love with all those years ago . I pinch my hand again, just in case. No such luck – still not a bad dream .

“Mr. Chairman,” says Mrs. Sullivan, sounding like a lecturing mother. “We’ll follow proper procedure, if you don’t mind .” Chance rolls his eyes. “Fine. Any discussion on this ridiculous offer to tear down everything Sully and I built ?” What they built? The investigator in me is buzzing with questions: how did a kid from the streets of Philly end up as CEO of a multi-billion-dollar security company ? “That’ll be enough of that,” she snaps. “I may love you like a son, Chance, but don’t go thinking you have a monopoly on Patrick’s legacy .” Then I see something that makes me pinch my hand yet again: Chance Talbot apologizing . “You’re right, ma’am,” he says, eyes on the table. “I’m sorry .” This is definitely not the same cocky kid I used to know. Back then, it was his way or the highway . A blond man – one of the Sullivans, I assume – clears his throat . “I get where you’re coming from, Chance,” he

says. “I mean, Atlas is you and the family, always has been. But to be honest, if Dad were here and he saw the opportunity for all of us to make this kind of money in one fell swoop …” He doesn’t have to finish the thought. Seriously, who would pass up a hundred-million-dollar offer? I’m selling my soul for a thousandth of that . A wave of nausea crashes into me as I realize what that means: Pearce wants me to dig up dirt on Chance. Shit. I knew it had to be too good to be true . God, why can’t anything be simple ?

Chapter Eighty-One 7 . CHANCE Sara suddenly looks a little green for some reason. But I can’t focus on that right now . Desmond is right: Sully would have called his family crazy if they passed up that kind of money. I used to joke with him that he was the only Scottish Irishman I ever met . But at the same time, he was as invested in Atlas as I am. We built it with our own hands, and he of all people understood how important the company is, not just to the Sullivans but to the entire world . He also knew something about the company that none of his family knows – something I can’t tell them. That’s going to make this more difficult than I thought. I never would have believed Pearce would be offering this kind of money . I have to convince them not to sell. There’s no other choice . “I get that, Des,” I say. “It’s like winning the biggest Powerball jackpot in history. But really, are

you doing so bad right now ?” Dory, Sully’s oldest, winces at that, and I realize too late that I’ve set her up to say something I don’t want Pearce to hear. Shit . “That’s the thing,” she says. “We’ve got all these shares, but we’re not getting much out of them. I know we’re not poor, but we’re not exactly rich, either .” God damn it. Now Pearce is going to smell blood in the water. But Dory’s right – the dividends from the shares have always gone back into the company, particularly the last five years as we expanded. The Sullivans might clear half a million a year each after taxes. Sully left them each an inheritance, but that’s their savings. The shares are their only income, outside of investments . I know half a million a year seems like a fortune to a lot of people – hell, even to me, since I grew up dirt poor – but Pearce is offering them enough to buy a private island . Tre chimes in: “There’s an easy fix for that. The board can vote to increase the dividends. Everyone gets a raise .” That’s why he’s the president of Atlas. Like I said,

he’s smarter than me . “Yes,” says Pearce, pouncing like a cat. “But those dividends are tied to profits. The minute your profits go down, so does your income. Sell to Empire and you know exactly how rich you’ll be for the rest of your lives .” God, I hate this prick. What the hell is Sara doing with a clown like him ? Des turns to Agnes. “What do you think, Mom ?” “I think we all need some time to think,” she says. “This obviously isn’t a decision we’re ready to make today .” God bless you, Aggie. I knew I could count on you. Of course, it would have been better if you’d told Pearce to go pound sand up his ass, but I’ll take what I can get . Across the table, Pearce’s eyes narrow. He obviously thought he had a slam dunk with the Sullivans. He thought wrong . “This offer isn’t open-ended,” he snips. “I told you, it’s all or nothing .” “You said we all had to sell, Mr. Pearce,” says

Agnes. “You didn’t give us a timeline .” Pearce turns to Karen, the secretary who’s been silently taking notes on the meeting . “I want this clearly in the minutes,” he says. “This offer expires in thirty days.” He checks his watch. “At precisely 8:43 a.m. on the 17th of September. Until then, my due diligence team will need access to Atlas’s offices .” Jesus, the guy doesn’t even try to ingratiate himself to the board. The only language he speaks is money . Agnes stares at him for several long moments. I’d like to think the fucker is squirming inside, but somehow I doubt it. Beside him, Karen just sits there with her hands under the table, wincing every now and then . “All right, then,” says Agnes. “I’ll make the motion that Atlas allows Empire’s team access to our offices for the next thirty days. All in favor ?” All eight of the Sullivans raise their hands. I don’t, just to make sure Pearce – and Sara – know exactly where I stand . “And we’ll schedule another emergency board

meeting for 8:00 a.m. on September 17th ,” Agnes continues. “You’ll have your vote then, Mr. Pearce .” I glance at her and she nods . “Meeting adjourned,” I say . Pearce and Sara pack up their things as I step over to Agnes. I keep my voice low so they can’t overhear . “We need to talk about this,” I say . “Well, duh. I may have been a housewife instead of a hotshot super solider, Chance, but I’m not stupid .” I wince inside. She wasn’t a housewife, she was a Dartmouth grad who stayed at home to raise her Irish brood. At times like this, I still feel like a punk kid around her. I suppose it’s only natural – she’s one of the two women I consider a mother. The other is Tre’s mom . She must see it, because she takes my hand . “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “This whole thing has me on edge. Obviously, this is life-changing and the stakes are high .”

“Agnes, I can’t lose Atlas to someone like Quentin Pearce .” “At the risk of being blunt, dear, you have more shares than any of the rest of us, plus a very lucrative CEO’s salary, plus an expense account, the company jet …” I hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it .” “I know you earn every penny, but the fact remains that you’re making a lot more money than we are. You can’t blame us for being tempted .” She’s right. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t lose the company to Pearce, or let anyone dig too deeply into Atlas. There’s too much at stake . “What if I came up with a better offer ?” The words just come out of my mouth, independent of my brain. What the hell am I talking about? How am I going to come up with a better offer ? “Better than a hundred million each?” Agnes asks, eyes round. “If you can do that, I say bring it on. But if you can’t, I’m afraid we’ll have to sell. If that happens, I’d advise you to do the same, before Pearce can fire you .”

I nod, trying to look confident despite the fact I have absolutely no idea how to follow through on this . “I’ll see you in thirty days,” I hear myself say . She leans in to give me a peck on the cheek . “Good luck, sonny boy,” she whispers. “I’m rooting for you .” Across the room, I see Pearce scowl. At least I have that much satisfaction .

Chapter Eighty-Two 8 . SARA I’m beginning to wish I’d dropped my phone in the toilet at the Toad & Turtle last night . “Time for you to go to work,” Quentin says in the hallway outside the boardroom. “Obviously it would have been better if they’d accepted the offer, but that’s not realistic. You have thirty days to bring me something that will make Chance Talbot back down .” My head is still spinning, and so is my stomach. Being hungover and meeting up with your high school sweetheart on the same day as being offered the biggest contract of your life can be a little overwhelming . “What exactly are you looking for?” I ask as Chance emerges from the boardroom . “That’s exactly what I was wondering,” he says with a sardonic grin. “Great minds think alike, I guess .” Ouch. I can hear the venom in his voice .

“So you already know Ms. Bishop,” says Quentin. “That’s good. It should make things easier .” “How do you figure that ?” Quentin smiles. He really shouldn’t – he obviously doesn’t realize how fake it looks . “Sara is the best investigator in the business,” he says. “She’ll find whatever you’re hiding .” You told me I was the first one in the phone book , I don’t say . Chance’s eyes flash. I’ve seen that look before, years ago. It was followed by two other guys ending up in the emergency room . “What the hell are you talking about?” he snarls . “Rumors,” Quentin says. “Blackmail. War profiteering. All sorts of nasty talk .” “You’re full of shit .” Is he? I may not be the “best investigator in the business,” but I think I can sense when someone is being defensive. Chance is hiding something . Quentin leans in closer to Chance. I’d warn him not to, but I don’t like him .

“What do you think the Sullivans would say if they found out the truth about their dear old dad?” he whispers . Chance grins, but those smoky gray eyes are smoldering . “Anyone who says anything bad about Patrick Sullivan in my presence will regret it,” he says coldly . “Is that a threat?” Quentin asks . “No, this is a threat: stay out of my way or I’ll fucking hurt you .” They glare at each other for a second, ramping up the tension in my belly . “Excuse me,” I mutter, heading for the room with a stick figure in a skirt on the door . Inside the bathroom, I run the cold water and splash it on my face with trembling hands. This is too much to take – how did I end up in the middle of a war between the guy who’s offering me a life preserver contract and the man I’ve been dreaming about since I was a teenager ?

In the mirror, I’m amazed see a woman who’s still remarkably together. All the stuff roiling around inside me isn’t showing on the surface – for now, at least. My hair is still in place, my face is about as good as it can look without makeup, and the suit I picked out actually matches and isn’t wrinkled . Take a deep breath. Don’t puke. You can get through this. I mean, it’s only thirty days. How hard could it possibly be ? Yeah, right. All I have to do is spend thirty days digging into the privacy of the man whose heart I shattered years ago, so that he’ll end up losing the company that obviously means everything to him . But what choice do I have? Like the Sullivans said, money is money, and Bishop & Associates needs money. Chance has to understand that . Sure. He’ll understand being betrayed again by the girl he fought so many times to protect. The girl who practically owes her sanity to the love he showed her as a teenager . The girl who slammed the door in his face on the night when he needed her the most . Would he possibly understand if he knew the truth? Would he even care? It’s been fifteen years .

We’re both completely different people now. Or at least he is – chairman and CEO? Who could have imagined it? Meanwhile, I’m still the same screwup I’ve always been . I make one last pass over my face with a paper towel and smooth out my hair in the mirror. You can do this. Just power through. You’ve been doing that all your life, Sara. Just keep powering through . Then I open the bathroom door and walk directly into Chance .

Chapter Eighty-Three 9 . CHANCE “Oof,” I hear as Sara walks right into my chest. Her lips graze against my neck as her breasts press against me . “Sorry,” she mutters. “Should have been watching where I was going .” Shit! I’m angry, but now I’m distracted by her lips. And breasts. And scent . “You should have been watching where you were going before you got into bed with Quentin Pearce,” I say. “I guess you’re not as cautious about who you get into bed with as you used to be .” It’s a low blow, but it’s out of my mouth before I even realize what I’m saying. Her eyes tell me I’ve made a direct hit, and as much as I’m sorry for it, I’m also not sorry . Jesus, she’s got me all tied up in knots ! “You don’t understand,” she says. “I didn’t know –

” “Seriously? You didn’t know who you were meeting here this morning? You weren’t handpicked for this ?” Her eyes dart around the hallway . “He’s gone,” I say. “You’re on your own now .” “Chance, you’re wrong. Quentin didn’t know about us. How could he? We haven’t been … together in fifteen years, and that was in another city .” “I wouldn’t put anything past that piece of shit,” he growls. “But at least I know where you stand if you’re working with him .” “Chance, please …” The look on her face pulls a sudden memory out of the depths of my mind – that night at the farmhouse, when she told me she never wanted to see me again. It’s like a rusty knife to the heart all over again . I hold up my hand to let her know I don’t want to hear it . “Look,” I say. “I have to allow you access to the

offices, but I don’t need to be near you. Talk to whomever you want, just stay away from me. Is that clear ?” Those sea-blue eyes seem to be searching for the right words to say. It’s too late. It was too late a long time ago . “I don’t think you can avoid me entirely,” she says. “There are some things we have to do face to face .” I pull a pen and a Post-It pad from the table in the hall and write down my cell number . “Here,” I say, handing her the little yellow note. “When you get the urge to talk to me, let your thumbs do it for you .” She looks down at the note, then back at me with a wounded look. I’d hoped the hurt in her eyes would give me some satisfaction, but in the end, it’s just making me miserable . “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she says. “For this. For everything .” “Tell it to Quentin Pearce,” I say, leaving her in the hallway as I stalk toward my office. “I’m sure it’s the kind of thing he’ll really get a kick out of .”

Chapter Eighty-Four 1 0. SARA Who’s that in the bed next to you, Sara? Why, that would be the devil. Don’t worry, he gave me a check for $150 grand, so it’s all good . Yeah, as if I know anything about sharing my bed with someone. That’s a whole different issue I have to deal with some other time . Chance let me off easy, considering what I did to him. And what I’m about to do to him. It’d be easy for me to justify both – I just did what I had to do. I always do what I have to do. It’s how I’ve survived. That doesn’t make it any easier . I need an outlet for my frustrations, so I pull out my phone and dial the number that called me this morning . “Sara,” Quentin’s voice says in my ear. “I assumed you were having a bowel movement, so I didn’t stick around. You’re on the clock – best get to work .” What’s that line from The Grinch ? As charming as

an eel ? “You do see the huge potential for conflict of interest here, don’t you?” I snap . “Why? Because you knew each other in high school? I thought you were a professional .” Shit. He’s right. I better seem professional if I want to keep my job. Here I was hoping to tear a strip off him and he ends up putting me in my place instead . “I just wanted to make sure that was on the record,” I lie. “Ethics .” “Ethics are overrated,” he says. “Work is underrated. Get to it .” He hangs up without saying good-bye, leaving me to wonder what the hell I’m supposed to do next. So I do what I always do when I don’t know what to do: I call Grace . *** “F uck me,” she breathes after I’ve brought her up to speed . I’m sitting in a vacant office that the secretary, Karen, said I could use for the next month. The

door is closed, of course. The last thing I want is to be overheard . “I know, right?” I say . “And I thought I had it bad just dealing with my hangover .” “Speaking of that, are you in the office yet? It’s after nine .” “Uh, not quite yet .” “How close is ‘not quite ’?” “I’m on my way to the shower right now .” I sigh. What else did I expect? Grace has always taken the little sister stereotype to the extreme, ever since we were kids. Of course, it doesn’t help that I feed the beast by being the indulgent big sister. We both have a lot of shit to blame on our childhood . “I need you to let Mrs. Harrison know that I’m not abandoning her case,” I say. “I’m just sidetracked for a while .” “I doubt she’ll be happy to hear that .” “I doubt anyone would be happy to hear that the

search for their missing daughter has been postponed,” I snap. “But life gets in the way. Just do it .” Grace is quiet for a few moments. Pouting, no doubt. Well, too bad. I’ve got enough to worry about on my end; she can suck it up . “Here’s a thought,” I say, trying not to sound sarcastic. “There’s a file in the shared drive called ‘Harrison.’ Why don’t you read through it and see if you can do some follow-up ?” “Well,” she says. “I guess I could try …” “We’ve been over this, Grace. Ninety-nine percent of investigation is just making phone calls and asking questions. You can handle that .” “All right. I just worry that I’m going to say something stupid and screw it all up. You know ?” “I do know,” I say. “We had the same mother, remember ?” She snorts a laugh. “Fine, I’ll get on it as soon as I’m in the office. So what are you going to do first ?” I’ve been thinking about that as we’ve been talking.

Chance is obviously not happening. But I’m willing to bet Tre would be a lot more receptive. He was always the reasonable yin to Chance’s fiery yang back in the day . “I guess I’m going to start asking questions myself,” I say. I’m still not sure what I’m looking for, but we both know that’s never stopped me before .”

Chapter Eighty-Five 1 1. SARA “So this is pretty weird, huh ?” Tre chuckles as he guides me to a chair in his beautifully understated office with a view of the Chicago skyline . “No,” he says, taking his own seat. “‘Pretty weird’ would be running into you at Wrigley Field. I think this qualifies as pure Twilight Zone .” I smile. Tre always did know how to make people feel at ease. It's almost like he’s the anti-Quentin. I sometimes wonder whether I might have fallen for him instead of Chance under different circumstances . Who am I kidding? It was always going to be Chance. He was the only one who’s seen me at my absolute craziest and never ran away . Until that final night, when he wanted to run away with me, and I couldn’t do it . “So what’s the Sara Bishop story in a nutshell?” Tre

asks. “What have you been up to since you, uh… since you graduated ?” Since you walked out on Chance and broke his heart , you mean . “It’s been a long and winding road,” I say. “First, I took journalism at Moorehead College in Pittsburgh …” His eyes narrow. “Really? An all-girls school ?” I give him a wan smile. “You remember my mom, right ?” His eyes widen. “Ah, yes,” he says. “How could I forget ?” He doesn’t know the half of it. But that’s another story . “Anyway, after that I worked as a freelancer and met a guy who was looking for his birth family. Turned out he was rich, and he hired me to do research for him. After I reunited him with his peeps, he gave me a bonus and I used that to start Bishop & Associates .” “Wow,” he says. “So you specialize in due diligence now ?”

Should I tell him? I don’t know how long I can keep up the act of knowing anything about business . “Well…” I say . He holds up a hand and smiles. “It’s okay, Sara. It’s actually pretty standard to hire private investigators to look into the personal lives of key people during an acquisition. In fact, it usually means that the buyer is pretty confident about the financial side of things. But when people like Pearce are putting up billions, they don’t want any surprises .” Tre can’t imagine how much of a relief that is . “I’m glad to hear that,” I say. “I’m not a good enough actress to pull off being a business expert .” “Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to Chance and let him know, though he probably already suspects as much .” I wince. “Yeah, about that,” I say. “He’s not exactly receptive to my being here. Do you think you might be able to stand in for him and answer some basic questions ?” He spreads his hands wide. “Shoot. That’s what I’m here for .”

“Okay,” I say. “I told you about me. How about you tell me about you and Chance ?” “Pretty straightforward. I went to Harvard on a football ride, Chance joined the Marines .” That’s not really surprising. Tre’s brains and skill always made up for his lack of money, and I would have been stunned if Chance hadn’t ended up in the military. He had his sights set on being a soldier from a young age. I always assumed it had something to do with growing up in the foster care system. He wanted a structured life to make up for the chaos he lived in after his parents were killed . So many nights I’ve lain awake in my bed, wondering what my life would have been like if I’d gone with him that night at the farmhouse instead of sending him away. Seeing him today made my heart ache with what could have been . “What about Atlas?” I ask, shaking off my woolgathering. “How did this all come about ?” Tre smiles. “That’s a bit longer of a story. You heard them talk about Patrick Sullivan in the meeting. Well, Sully was one of the private security contractors that popped up during the invasion of Iraq. Chance did some after-hours work with him for a few years, until Sully offered him a full-time

job when he mustered out .” “He offered him a job as CEO ?” “No, as a specialist. It was Chance who suggested changing the focus to war zone humanitarian work. There was so much need for experts who could get in and out of hot areas and help the people caught in the crossfire. So they expanded the business together . “I bet you had something to do with it, too,” I say . “I helped with the numbers, but it was really their dream. Atlas grew exponentially after that. When Sully passed away a few years ago, he left thirty percent of the company to Chance. The rest of the family voted to make him CEO and chairman .” “Wow. That says a lot about their relationship with him, wouldn’t you say ?” Tre shrugs. “They’re family. You know Chance never had a real one, outside of me and Moms .” I know better than anyone. The two of us spent long nights in each other's arms, talking about our fucked up lives. Chance was shuttled through a dozen homes in the ten years before high school, so when he turned sixteen, he just started sleeping on

Tre’s sofa, or breaking into the rec center and using the storeroom there. His foster parents at that time were a pair of real winners; they didn’t give two shits about him as long as they got their monthly check . “The Marines must have really turned him around,” I say . “I think the best word would be focused,” says Tre. “You know how smart he was, even though it was never reflected in his grades. And I’ve never known anyone with willpower like his. The discipline from the Marines honed that natural talent into something he could use like a tool to get whatever he wanted in life .” He sweeps a hand at the Chicago skyline outside the window. “Atlas is the result .” So is that Roman statue of a body, I’m assuming . “I assume that applies to women, too,” I say, not really wanting to know the answer . Tre nods. “Chance has had a pretty steady stream over the years,” he says. “But they never seem to last more than a few weeks. I guess he’s a little too… intense for most women .”

He’s intense, all right. So many nights I spent stuck to him like a magnet, wondering how I could ever live without him. I guess I learned how, eventually. So much of me wishes I’d had the courage to … Stop it. Focus on the here and now . “Okay,” I smile. “I think that’ll probably do for now. Thanks so much, Tre. You’ve been a great help. And it’s been awesome reconnecting with you .” He pulls me in for a hug. “Same here, girl. I didn’t realize how much I missed you until you showed up again. And don’t worry about Chance – he’ll come around. Eventually .” I give him a peck on the cheek. “From your lips to God’s ear .” The clock in the hallway says 11:07 a.m. It feels like I arrived at the Atlas offices a month ago, and my head is still throbbing. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve earned my thousand dollars and Quentin Pearce can go fuck himself . I’m taking the rest of the day off .

Chapter Eighty-Six 1 2. CHANCE “Leave the bottle .” Tre glances at the waitress, then at me . “Is that a good idea?” he asks. “It’s barely past lunch .” “Then it’s a good thing I’m the CEO,” I grouse. “I get to make the rules. And the president gets to follow them, so drink up .” He shakes his head but does as he’s told. The scotch is a special single-malt distilled by a crazy Scotsman who lives in a basement apartment in Lincoln Park. A group of connoisseurs each chip in fifty grand in return for a dozen bottles of the specialty batch . It’s far and away the best scotch I’ve ever tasted, and it’s illegal as hell, but bars like this one will serve it to select customers who know what to ask for. But even it can’t bring me out of the state I’ve been in since Sara walked into the boardroom this morning .

“I don’t know, man,” says Tre. “She sure didn’t seem like she was on a fishing expedition. I think it was just a coincidence that Pearce hired her. She didn’t know anything about the company .” “Maybe so,” I say. “But I’m still not talking to her .” “Sure, that sounds like the grown-up thing to do .” “I am your boss, you know .” “A real CEO doesn’t let a past relationship cloud their judgment about the present,” he says. “Especially when it has an impact on the company’s bottom line .” Why is he always right? Do they teach a class in it at Harvard, or something ? “Just keep her out of my way. I have to come up with something over the next month to convince the Sullivans not to sell, and I don’t need any distractions .” “Heh,” Tre chuckles. “You always were distracted by Sara. Remember the time you walked right into the side of that delivery van when you first started stalking her? I thought I was going to piss my pants .”

I scowl at him. “I wasn’t stalking her, I was just interested in her .” “Yeah, I suppose you were ‘just interested’ in all those terrorists you hunted overseas, too .” I pluck a pretzel from the dish and send it spinning at his head with a flick of my fingers. Mr. Football Reflexes catches it, of course, and pops it into his grinning yap . “I’m just saying you’re too intense sometimes, Randy .” He uses the nickname he’s had for me since grade school. It’s short for “Random Chance” and I still hate it to this day. Ah, that’s not true. I don’t mind it; I’m just in a shitty mood . “You would be, too, if you had a month to come up with a way to save your company,” I say . He gives me a sidelong look. “Who do you think is gonna be the one who comes up with that idea? Not you, motherfucker. Besides, I’m invested in this, too. You can bet Pearce wouldn’t be keeping me around as president .” “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure there’s a golden handshake built into the deal if I can’t stop it .”

“Hey, wait a minute,” he says. “Golden handshake? Maybe I’m all turned around on this thing .” “Fuck you,” I chuckle, launching another pretzel at him . “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” he says . “Hey, six hours ago, I was the one telling you not to worry .” “I didn’t mean that; you totally have to worry about the deal. I’m talking about Sara. I don’t think she’s going to dig up anything we’ve buried, especially if she’s not going to have any direct contact with you .” Hearing Tre say that helps ease my mind a bit. I wonder if he’s figured out why I want to stay away from Sara. It’s not about keeping Atlas’s secrets . It’s about making sure I don’t allow myself to go down that path with her again . *** T he rec center is deserted at this time of night. Nobody cares where I am, and Sara has snuck out of her bedroom. It’s Friday night, which means her

mom is so drunk and/or stoned that you could set off a firecracker in her underwear and she wouldn’t react . We tiptoe from the window, through the little gymnasium with the basketball nets toward the storeroom, where I jimmy the door open. Once inside, we curl up together on the little army cot that’s served as my bed more nights than I can count. I’m pretty sure Rev. MacFarlane suspects that I’m using it, but he’s never said anything to me about it . Sara reaches under my t-shirt and traces lines along my belly with her fingernails. We’ve done this a hundred times – it’s our way of shutting out all the shit that the world throws on us, and connecting with each other . “I wish we could afford our own place together,” she sighs . I lean in for a kiss. Her lips taste like cherries. They always taste like cherries. Her tongue explores mine as she grips her arms around my neck, locking me in place. As if I’d go anywhere . “I wish I could afford anything,” I say when she finally lets me up for air. “Besides, your mom will never let you move out .”

“The crazy bitch won’t have a choice when I turn eighteen in a couple months,” she scowls . “Hey, don’t talk like that,” I say. “She’s still your mom .” Sara stares wistfully at the water-stained ceiling tiles above us . “You don’t know her,” she says. “You only see a small part of what I see .” “You’re right,” I say, turning her face to mine. “You’re the only thing I see. And you’re perfect .” She takes me by the mouth again, only this time it’s more urgent. Suddenly her hands are all over my body, grabbing at my chest and my ass and my crotch . I pull back and our lips part with a wet popping sound. When I look at her face, I realize she’s not Sara. Not the Sara from back then. She’s the Sara from this morning. Grown up, filled out, with darker hair and more defined features . “I’m not seventeen anymore,” she says. Her hand rips her blouse open, giving me a full view of her breasts. They’re gorgeous: full and round and happy to see me. The look she gives me is pure lust

. “Like what you see ?” I don’t understand how this is happening, but I do like it. We’ve fooled around in the storeroom more times than I can count, feeling each other up, getting a glimpse of some skin, but never going all the way . Before I know what’s happening, she’s yanked my belt off and is tugging down my jeans. Only these aren’t my skinny high school legs – they’re the tree trunks I developed in the Marines through grueling exercise every day. Apparently I’m my adult self, too . There’s a tent under my shorts, and it’s making Sara grin like a Cheshire cat . “Is that for me?” she purrs. “I’ve wanted it for so long …” I can’t hold myself back – I pull my raging hard-on out of my boxers and use my other hand to unzip her skirt. A few quick moves and she’s fully naked in front of me. I can see that her bush is the same deep red as her hair, and I almost come right on the spot .

“Slowly,” she says, taking my shaft in her hand and stroking. “We’ve got forever. We’re grown-ups now .” Yeah, I think. We’re grown-ups. And I’m rich. I can do anything I want. And what I want to do is fuck Sara as hard as I can . As if she can read my mind, she sighs and lays back, only we’re not on the storeroom cot anymore. We’re on the king-sized platform bed in my penthouse. Sara squeezes her breasts together as she spreads her legs wide apart, showing me the secret place I’ve wanted to see for so long . “It’s all yours, Chance,” she whispers. “After all this time, it’s all yours .” “I want you, Sara,” I sigh. “You’re all I ever wanted .” I want to stay here forever, to feel like this forever, but I can already feel it slipping away. Something is tugging at me, causing me pain. I try to hold on with everything I have, trying to get on top of Sara, to finally be inside of her, to come together finally as one, but there’s so much pain down there . Why? Why is there so much … pain …?

*** I wake up to the painful ache of my hard cock being almost bent in half by my body weight. I’m on all fours in my bed as if someone is underneath me, but all my hard-on is running into is an unyielding mattress . “Fuuuck,” I groan as I roll over onto my back. My chest is heaving like I’ve just finished a full-pack hike . There’s a tent under the thin top sheet. I sleep in the nude, so I suppose I should be thankful I didn’t finish the job in my dream. If I had, I would have been stripping the bed before the maid gets here tomorrow . “Fucking scotch,” I mumble as the dizziness begins to catch hold. It does nothing to wash away the images from the dream, though. I can still see Sara’s perfect naked body, still feel her hand around my cock, still taste her cherry tongue in my mouth . I see the setting sun behind my bedroom curtains casting an orange glow on the window pane. The clock on the night table says 8:16 p.m . That’s what I get for starting into the booze right

after lunch. I sigh and reach down to massage the cramp out of my rapidly deflating cock . This is going to be a looonnng fucking month .

Chapter Eighty-Seven 1 3. SARA Whap. “Again.” Whap. “Again.” WHAP. “Whoa.” WHAP! “Hey, settle down !” Kelsey flashes me an annoyed look that pulls my head back into the moment. I didn’t realize I was letting my mood creep into the roundhouse kicks I’ve been driving into her padded shield for the last five minutes . “Sorry,” I pant, propping my gloved hands on my knees to catch my breath .

“Everything okay?” she asks. “You’ve been aggressive since your warm-up .” Kelsey has been my martial arts instructor and friend for six years. She’s learned how to read minds based on a student’s movements, plus she knows me really well – there’s no getting anything past her. The upside is I don’t have to pay for a therapist . Kelsey doesn’t charge me for the workouts either – we met when she hired me to get her sister out of a cult, and she hasn’t let me pay her a dime since . “Crazy day,” I puff. “Nothing I can’t handle .” “Uh-huh,” she says. “Let’s take a break before you hurt yourself. Or me .” I grab my towel and wipe the sweat from my face as we take a seat on the bench in front of the fulllength mirror on the wall of her studio. As usual, I’m a pit-stained mess in my workout clothes, while Kelsey looks like she just stepped out of the salon. Some women just seem have that natural coolness about them . “What happened?” she asks. “You’re only like this when you’re frustrated. Is it a case ?”

“Yeah, but not the way you think. I’m doing a corporate job this month. Huge pay .” She smiles. “Awesome! So why is that frustrating ?” I shake my head. “It’s complicated .” “Try me .” The truth is I don’t know why I’m feeling like this. It’s not like I’m mad at Chance, or unhappy about the money. I should be kicking up my heels, not trying to kick Kelsey’s head off her shoulders . “I won’t bore you with the details,” I say. “It’s just a different kind of work. I’m nervous that I won’t be able to pull it off .” Kelsey’s eyes narrow. Her gaze has the same effect on me that my father’s did when I was a kid, back before he finally left us. It’s like a school principal’s . “I think it’s a guy,” she says. “You’re always like this after you break up with someone .” “I am not .” “Yup. I always assume it’s because you’re mad at the guy .”

I’ve only had a handful of boyfriends, and none of them has lasted more than a few weeks. Well, except for Chance. We were together for two years . I sigh. “It’s not them I get upset with. It’s me .” “You get mad at yourself after a breakup ?” “There’s a reason no guy ever wants to stay with me,” I say morosely . Kelsey takes my shoulders and turns me to look her in the eye . “Don’t talk like that,” she says. “You’ve got the full package, girl. If a guy can’t see that, it’s his problem, not yours .” Should I tell her? All these years we’ve been friends, I’ve never actually broached the subject with her. But if there’s anyone I can trust in this world, it’s Kelsey . “It’s not the guys,” I say. “Well, a couple of them were jerks. But the others just couldn’t get past something that’s wrong with me .” “What are you talking about ?”

“It’s just… I’ve never …” “Never what ?” I lean in and whisper, even though we’re the only people in the room . “Kelsey, I’m a virgin. Every time a guy and I get to the point where most people have sex, I just… don’t .” Her eyes widen. “Really ?” “Yeah. I’m more screwed up than I let on .” “Honey, believe me, I know how screwed up you are,” she says with a grin. “But there’s nothing wrong with waiting for the right guy. I kind of admire you for it .” I grimace. Should I keep going? The only other person I’ve ever talked to about this is Grace, and that’s because she lived through it with me . “I wish that was the reason,” I say. “But if I’m being honest, it’s not. I have… hang-ups .” “What do you mean ?” “My mom was a bit of a religious fanatic .”

That’s the understatement of the century. She was a bipolar addict who had a lot of ideas about purity and chastity being the only paths to heaven. It got worse as Grace and I entered puberty. She made us ashamed of our own bodies, and we were scared to death of boys . Even when I rebelled and started dating Chance, I wasn’t able to go all the way with him. He never complained, though. He always said my beautiful face was all he needed . “That’s too bad,” says Kelsey. “Maybe your breakups are some sort of trigger for your anger with her? You blame her for not being able to seal the deal with a man .” Whoa. That’s kind of a revelation . “I never thought of that,” I say. “But you’re probably right .” “That doesn’t explain today, though,” she says. “You didn’t break up with a guy today, did you ?” “Well, therein lies a tale .” I tell her about the crazy coincidence of meeting up with Chance again after all these years .

“Wow,” she says. “That is crazy .” “Right?” “So how did you feel about it ?” “What do you mean ?” “You run into the only guy you were ever really close to, and he’s hotter than ever – that’s gotta spark a few thoughts, girl .” I frown. “Are you trying to tell me I’ve been beating up on you because I’m horny ?” Kelsey shrugs. “You tell me .” I’d really like to tell her she’s out to lunch, that there’s obviously another explanation. But do I even believe that ? “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter,” I say. “Chance made it abundantly clear that his boat sailed a long time ago .” “Oh, come on,” she says. “You’re hot, sweetie. How do you know he wasn’t just playing hard to get? Ex-flame doesn’t want to let on he’s still interested – it’s a tale as old as time .” “I doubt that very much .”

“Why do you say that ?” In for a penny, in for a pound. Might as well tell her all of it .

Chapter Eighty-Eight 1 4. SARA “Chance is a lot more than an old flame,” I say. “He and I had been best friends for years before we finally realized we loved each other in senior year. We both grew up in shitty circumstances – he was in and out of foster care and got into a lot of trouble as a kid. My dad used to beat on me and my sister before he finally left us alone with my mom .” Kelsey nods, but says nothing . “Chance and I were sort of each other’s soft place to land, if you know what I mean. He held me through so many nights where I thought the only way I could stop the pain was to jump off a bridge. He literally saved my life when we were fourteen. He happened to stop by one night when my dad had been drinking. Dad came after me with the poker from the fireplace and Chance stepped in and beat the hell out of him. Imagine, a fourteen-yearold taking out a full-grown man .” “Jesus, Sara,” Kelsey breathes. “I had no idea .”

“Chance was my hero,” I say simply. “We were inseparable, or at least as inseparable as we could be with parents like mine. Things got a little easier for a while after Dad finally walked out, but it didn’t last long .” “What happened ?” “I finally decided right before our prom that I wanted to go all the way with Chance. So I planned for a special night at a friend’s place who was out of town for the weekend. I bought candles and made a mixed tape of love songs and everything. It was supposed to be perfect .” “So what went wrong ?” I sigh. “Grace found the stuff in my room right before I was going to leave. She told my mom, who promptly lost her shit and interrogated me about it. I ended up confessing what I had planned, and she told me never to see Chance again .” Kelsey’s eyes are soft as she reaches out to take my hand . “That must have been so hard for you .” “It was,” I say. “Part of me wanted to just slap her face and storm out of our house. I’d pick up

Chance and we’d head out into the world together, come what may .” “But you didn’t .” “No. I mean, she was my mother, and I knew she had a mental illness, even if it was never officially diagnosed. It didn’t help that she self-medicated with alcohol and painkillers. I couldn’t just abandon her, especially now that Dad was gone .” “You gotta keep going, girl,” Kelsey says. “I’m on pins and needles here .” I feel the familiar ache in my throat that signals the tears are about to start. I’ve kept this all bottled up inside me for such a long time . “I called Chance and made up a lame excuse,” I say. “He told me it was okay, but I could tell by his voice that he was disappointed. I didn’t see him for a few days after that because I was dealing with Mom . “Meanwhile, Chance was having his own problems with the foster parents he was supposed to be living with. They told him he needed to show up for visits with child services or they wouldn’t get their money. Otherwise, they didn’t give a shit where he was. He told them to go fuck themselves .

“Anyway, he called me the night of his eighteenth birthday and told me he was coming over. He showed up at my door carrying a duffel bag with everything he owned, which wasn’t much. He begged me to come with him, said he was going to join the Marines and we could get married and start our own family, to hell with everyone. It was everything I’d ever wished for .” Kelsey nods. “And yet you didn’t go .” The tears that have been threatening to fall finally spill down my cheeks . “While Chance was standing outside the door, telling me that he didn’t want to live without me, my mom was standing on the other side with the tip of a butcher knife against her throat .” Kelsey gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. Suddenly I feel sorry for burdening her with all this. But I’ve come this far, I might as well finish . “She was blasted out of her mind on gin and OxyContin,” I say. “If I had left with Chance, she would have driven that blade right through her jugular and left Grace on her own. What choice did I have ?” “So what did you do ?”

“I told Chance to go without me .” The memory runs over me like a steamroller. His gray eyes – they turned to pure lead as he realized what I was saying. I was abandoning him. The one person he thought he could always count on . Kelsey lets out a low whistle. “So your mom didn’t kill herself ?” “Not that night,” I say with a bitter chuckle. “It took another four years for her to drive her car into the Delaware, drunk off her ass. She drowned. By then, I’d already graduated from the all-girl college she’d shipped me off to .” Kelsey leans against the mirror on the wall behind us and lets out a deep breath as I wipe my eyes with my palms . “That is one hell of a story, Sara,” she says, pulling me into her strong arms. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that .” “Yeah,” I sniff. “Me too .” “It definitely explains a lot .” “I guess it does. I avoid thinking about it consciously as much as I can, just so that I don’t

have to go through moments like this very often .” She cups my cheek in her palm and smiles. “That’s a smart strategy .” “Never really thought of it that way,” I say, taking a deep breath of my own. “It’s probably more instinct than strategy .” “Whatever, as long as it works .” “So,” I say, managing a smile. “Still think I’m just horny ?” Kelsey’s eyes pop out as she snorts a giggle, and in a few seconds we're both doubled over with laughter. I think it’s more catharsis than actual humor, but boy does it ever feel good .

Chapter Eighty-Nine 1 5. SARA Back in my apartment, I lie awake on the coverlet of my bed, thinking about everything this crazy day. An empty wine glass sits on the night table beside me next to my cracked iPhone . Talking with Kelsey tonight really helped me get a handle on my feelings. The initial shock was natural, but I didn’t realize how much anger and frustration I still had tied up in those teen years. Nothing ever seemed to go right back then – except, of course, when I was with Chance . Seeing him again today was a reminder of all the things I could have had in my life, and it brought back all the shame and bitter resentment I felt at being forced to let him go . And, despite all of our joking about it, I have to admit that Kelsey was also right about something else: it made me horny as hell . Chance strides into my mind’s eye without permission. I see those lines under the shiny

material of his golf shirt, the angles that define his torso, the long, steely muscles that line his arms. The Marines definitely honed him, as Tre said, but not just his will. It turned his body into something you’d see on the cover of a fitness magazine . I imagine Chance shirtless, in army fatigue pants, climbing through a muddy obstacle course. Sweating and panting, climbing over walls and crawling through muck that drenches his pants and makes them stick to his legs . My mind wanders along with my hand as it creeps down the front of my nightgown. Images of a younger Chance mingle with these new ones, combined with memories of our nights together, holding each other, feeling each other’s heartbeat, tasting each other’s mouths . In no time at all, the heat between my legs becomes a furnace, then a raging fire. It’s been a while, but I learned how to take care of myself a long time ago, in every sense of the word. I imagine what he would look like naked – his manhood full and ready to go, him climbing on top of me to finally finish what we should have done so long ago . I last less than thirty seconds once my fingers go to work down there, pressing hard against my button. This is a release I desperately needed, even though

I didn’t realize it. I swear I can feel the heat of Chance’s bare skin against me as the wave emanates outwards from the junction of my thighs like an earthquake . A few more muffled groans and it starts to subside. Finally it stops, leaving me lying there, panting, staring at the ceiling. It may not have resolved anything, but at least I feel better. Like I can actually walk back into Atlas tomorrow morning and take care of business . Business that just so happens to be hunting down the dirty secrets of the only man I ever loved . It’s going to be a looonngg month .

Chapter Ninety 1 6. CHANCE My phone buzzes on the polished surface of my desk right at 8:30 a.m., almost twelve hours to the minute after I woke up last night and realized I needed to take a whole different approach to the situation if I want to hold onto Atlas . The text is what I expected: She’s here . I take a quick glance in the mirror on the wall as I head for my office door: Not too shabby. Satin shirt with an extra button open and my favorite slacks, the ones a woman once said made my ass look like two golf balls wrapped in a handkerchief . Get ready, Sara Bishop. You’re about to meet the all-new Chance . I turn left in the hallway, toward the lobby. As planned, I almost walk right into Sara . Oh!” she says, obviously startled. “Sorry. I almost ran into you again. I need to stop doing that .” It’s showtime .

“It’s my fault,” I say, taking a moment to admire the curve-hugging green dress she’s wearing. “And I don’t mean just this. I mean yesterday. I’m really sorry, Sara .” Her sapphire eyes blink like an owl’s. I’ve caught her off guard. Good . “Uh,” she says. “Really, you don’t have anything to be sorry for .” “Yes, I do. I was petty, and as a Marine, I should expect better from myself .” “It’s understandable. I mean, it was the first time we’ve seen each other since… well, you know .” I nod. “Still, I should have left bygones in the past and just told you how happy I was to see you. Because I was, you know .” That’s it, Chance. Lay it on thick . Her eyes are still wide. “You were ?” “Of course. I still am, Sara. We meant a lot to each other for a long time. What happened between us that one night fifteen years ago doesn’t change everything that came before it .”

Okay, Chance, settle down before you start believing this stuff yourself . She smiles. “I’m really glad to hear you say that. And I want you to know, this isn’t personal at all. It’s just business .” “Of course. And I want you to feel welcome here at Atlas. Whatever you need, just ask Tre and he’ll make it happen for you .” “That will make things a lot easier,” she says, looking relieved. “The sooner I can get done with this, the sooner I can tell Quentin that he’s chasing his tail. You’re the most honorable person I’ve ever known, Chance .” That catches me off guard and makes me suddenly wistful for those days. It was a tough life, sure, but at least it wasn’t overshadowed by secrets and lies . Shake it off, Chance. I know that Pearce is definitely not chasing his tail, but there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to let him know that . “That’d suit me just fine,” I say. “I’m sorry about how I acted yesterday; I just don’t like the guy .” Sara leans in close. “I don’t think anyone does,” she whispers. “Including me .”

That’s good to know, but hardly surprising. After I gave myself some time to think about it last night, I realized that Sara wouldn’t have taken the job to get back at me. She’s not like that . “He really is a shit, isn’t he ?” “I refuse to answer on the grounds that it may incriminate me .” I grin. “Then let’s stop talking about him. Feel free to do what you have to do, and if anyone here has a problem with you, tell them I said to take it up with me .” “I’m sure it won’t come to that,” she says with a smile of her own . I snap my fingers. “Hey, are you free tonight? I was thinking maybe we could catch up over dinner .” “Sure,” she says, obviously surprised. “I’d really like that .” “Great,” I say. “I’m looking forward to it .” “Where should we meet ?” “Give me an address and I’ll have my driver come and pick you up .”

She taps her phone a few times and I hear a ding. The screen of my mobile shows her contact info . “You gave me your cell number yesterday,” she says sheepishly . “And I’m glad I did. Get in touch anytime .” “Okay,” she says, still smiling “Awesome,” I say. Why do I feel like a teenager who finally got his crush to go out with him ? “See you tonight.” She turns and walks down the hall, then stops and turns back to me with a little wave . I wave back, grinning like an idiot . Smarten up, Marine! This isn’t high school ! She disappears around the corner, leaving me to stand there and wonder what the hell I’m getting into .

Chapter Ninety-One 1 7. SARA “He’s so hot .” “Excuse me?” I say, looking up from my yellow notepad . “Sorry,” Karen says, blushing. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud .” I chuckle. “It’s okay. You’re the only one who’s called Chance ‘hot’ so far.” I riffle through my notes. “I’ve got ‘war hero,’ ‘best boss ever,’ ‘honorable,’ ‘generous.’ Now I can add ‘hot’ to the list. What I don’t have is anyone with anything negative to say about him .” Her eyes widen. “Of course not,” she says. “We all love him. I can’t imagine working anywhere else. He and Tre just make everyone feel so important, like we’re all a key part of the company. Everyone from the field operatives all the way down to admins like me .” It all seems too good to be true, but am I really surprised? Sure, Chance was a rough-edged kid, but

he had a heart like no one else I’ve ever known. He was just as likely to feed a stray dog as he was to punch out a kid who picked on me. I’ve never known anyone more loyal, and I can only imagine the Marines helped him focus that trait, too . “So you really knew him when he was young?” she asks. It makes me wonder briefly if she can read minds like Kelsey . “Yeah,” I say. “We were… friends for a long time .” She smiles dreamily. “I bet every girl in school wanted him .” I smile but say nothing. There were a few others who saw what was inside, but he only had eyes for me . And I had to let him go . “When did you start working here?” I ask . “Right around the time Mr. Sullivan hired Chance .” “So you knew Sully ?” She nods. “He was my first boss .”

“And you were in the front row as the company went into its expansion phase .” “Uh-huh. What a time that was. It seemed like every few weeks, I was getting another raise. They hired tons of people when Tre took over as vice president. And now here we are today .” She leans close. “Do you think the Sullivans are going to sell?” she whispers . “I can’t say .” “I hope not,” she says. “Atlas is like my family. I don’t want to work anywhere else .” “Where did the capital come from for the expansion?” I ask . She shrugs. “That all happened when Sully was the sole proprietor,” she says. “Before we issued any shares. I assume he’d been saving for it. I never really thought about it .” Hmm. I don’t know if that rings an alarm bell, exactly, but it seems a little unusual . “Did he maybe have an outside investor ?” “It’s possible, but if it was anyone other than his

family, they didn’t get any stock for it .” I file it away for later . “So you’re happy with your compensation ?” “Oh, very,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “Salary plus bonuses. Great pension, matching contributions for college funds. Like I said, it’s a great place to work .” And Quentin Pearce wants it. I hate to think this, but if he succeeds in buying Atlas, I can’t imagine him keeping the perks. Or the wages. Maybe not even the people. The more I learn about Atlas, the more I feel like some sort of hatchet woman . Come on, Sara, you had to have known that would be part of it. People don’t hire someone for $150,000 for a month’s work just to have them interview people . “All right,” I say with a smile I don’t feel. “Thanks very much for your time, Karen .” She stands up and takes my offered hand . “It’s my pleasure,” she says. “I really hope the sale doesn’t go through. Sorry, that’s probably not what you want to hear .”

“You’re certainly not the only one,” I say, sidestepping the comment. “It sounds like Atlas is a wonderful company to work for .” “It sure is,” she says. “Maybe if the sale falls through, you could come work for us !” I smile as she leaves the office. I seriously doubt they’d have me , I don’t say .

Chapter Ninety-Two 1 8. CHANCE “What kind of dumbass plan is that ?” “Whaddaya mean?” I say. “It’s brilliant .” Tre shakes his head. “Why the hell would you want to string along the one girl who actually meant something to you ?” He’s obviously not getting this . “I don’t buy this ‘coincidence’ line they’re spinning,” I say. “Pearce hired Sara for a reason, I know it. If I get closer to her, I might be able to uncover it .” “What reason? What benefit would there be ?” “He wanted someone who knows me, so it would be easier to dig up dirt on me .” “So he hires your high school girlfriend from before you joined the Marines?” he says, rolling his eyes. “Are you listening to the words that are coming out of your mouth? If he was trying to get someone to

get close to you, wouldn’t he have found one of your most recent conquests instead of scouring your old yearbooks? Or found a buddy you served with in Iraq or something ?” I hate that he’s smarter than me. It always makes me second-guess myself. The fact that he’s usually right is beside the point . “All right, all right,” I say. “I’ll give you that. But I can’t shake this hunch that there’s something going on there .” “Look, I get it,” he says. “And I know trusting your hunches saved a lot of lives in Iraq. But this situation is different; you just can’t see it .” What’s he talking about? This is strategic thinking, my specialty. He’s the businessman, I’m the logistics guy . “How is it different?” I ask. “And what can’t I see ?” “It’s different because it’s Sara,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “She shows up in your life out of the blue at a time when you’re under huge stress. The only girl you ever cared about. You can’t think strategically in that situation .”

“You’re nuts,” I say. “Sara’s not the only girl I ever cared about .” “Name another one,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest . “I’ve had a dozen women –” “I know. Name one who had an impact on you like Sara .” Dammit, he’s got me again . “I’m not some lost kid anymore,” I say. “I can handle this. Besides, if I had another choice, don’t you think I’d take it? But we both know that there’s a possibility, however slim, that she’ll find out the truth about the expansion capital .” That gets him. He frowns and scratches his chin thoughtfully . “Go on,” he says . “If I can get Sara into bed, I should be able to steer her away from the secret, so that she tells Pearce the rumors are bullshit and Atlas is all aboveboard. And if worse comes to worst and she stumbles across the truth somehow, I can threaten to tell Pearce she’s been sleeping with the enemy.

Knowing him, he’d go scorched earth on her and ruin her career .” Tre stares at me for a very long time before speaking . “That’s cold, man,” he says finally . “It’s strategic thinking for a dangerous situation,” I say. “There’s a difference, especially in combat. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made .” “Even if that sacrifice is Sara ?” I made sacrifices for Sara for a long time, and she threw them out the window. If Tre thinks I’m not going to put her in the line of fire, he’s dreaming . One of you is dreaming , a part of my brain says. But are you sure it’s Tre and not you ? “There’s something else you’re not factoring into this,” he says. “Even if Pearce accepts that we’re clean, you still have to come up with a reason for the Sullivans not to sell to him .” “I’m working on that,” I say . “Work harder. We have less than a month .” “I told you, I’m strategic. Wheels within wheels,

and all that crap. If everything works out the way I’m planning, we won’t have to worry about Pearce at all .” Of course, if it doesn’t work out, my world is going to come crashing down around me, and I may very well ruin the life of the only girl I ever loved . And this loonngg month is just getting started .

Chapter Ninety-Three 1 9. SARA “Does this dress make me look like a slut ?” Grace rolls her eyes for the umpteenth time since she came over . “That’s Mom talking through you,” she says. “It looks great .” That’s what I was thinking, but I wanted a second opinion. The woman looking back at me in the mirror has her shit together. The neckline shows off my cleavage, the waist actually fits the way it’s supposed to, the skirt part hugs my legs, but not too tightly . “Are you sure?” I ask one last time . “It’s Chance Talbot,” she huffs. “It’s not like you’re going out with David Beckham or something .” “You haven’t seen him,” I say as I work my diamond studs into my earlobes. “He’s not the kid he was when you knew him. Not by a long shot .”

“Oh yeah? Take some pics with your phone tonight. I’ll be the judge of that .” “Sure, Judge Gracie, I’ll wait on the opinion of the gal who’s had even fewer boyfriends than I have .” She smacks my butt as I pass where she sits on my bed . “Don’t be mean,” she says with a grin. “I have issues .” I hand her the box of Kleenex from my night table . “Got an issue, here’s a tissue .” “Just go on your fucking date,” she giggles. “And tell him I say hi. I really do want to see him again. And Tre, too .” “Oh, honey,” I say, grabbing my purse. “You definitely want to see Tre these days .” She sighs. “He was hot enough back then .” “He’s even hotter now .” “Go!” she says. “Leave me alone so I can pout .” “I’m out,” I say as I open the apartment door. “Wish me luck .”

She blows me a kiss. “Knock him dead, sis .” *** T he car is a stretch limo, which I expected. What I didn’t expect was Chance standing on the sidewalk, holding the door for me with the setting sun lighting him from behind . He’s in a trendy sharkskin suit that matches the gray of his eyes and highlights his physique. No tie, of course. He told me once that a tie is like an invitation for an attacker to strangle you. It’s one of the things you learn when you grow up on the streets . “I didn’t expect you, too,” I say as he takes my hand and ushers me into the back. His palm feels warm and good in mine . “I figured this would give us more time together,” he says. “It’s been a long time – we’ve got a lot of catching up to do .” “That we do .” He gives me an appreciative once-over, setting off a flock of butterflies in my belly. No other man has ever been able to do that to me .

“You look amazing,” he says . “Thank you,” I manage to answer . He waves a hand at the bar, well-stocked with top shelf booze . “Drink?” “I’d love a vodka on ice,” I say. “It’s been a long day.” And I’ve got a sudden heat that I need to cool down . “I’ll bet,” he says, handing me my drink and pouring himself a neat scotch . “Any trouble in your interviews today?” he asks . “Just the opposite. Everyone was incredibly cooperative. They all love you, by the way .” He smiles shyly and shrugs . “The best people I know work at Atlas,” he says. “It’s an honor to know they feel the same about me .” “You sound like a Marine,” I say . “Oorah,” he grins .

“I’m so glad you followed your dreams. The Marines didn’t know what they were getting when you signed up .” He chuckles. “That’s for sure. I walked into basic training like I owned the place. Took the drill sergeant all of ten minutes behind the barracks to let me know that no, in fact, I did not own the place, if you get what I mean .” “At least you were always a quick study,” I say with a wince . “Once I adjusted my attitude, I realized that these guys and gals were the family I’d always been looking for. Combat just drove that home to me even more. The man at your six is closer to you than a brother .” It finally sinks in with me that Chance has spent a lot of time in the dark corners of the world since he left. I’ve had plenty of my own shit to deal with in my life, but none of it involved bullets and bombs flying in my direction . “I can’t imagine what that was like,” I say . “I hope you never have to,” he says with a faraway look. “I made it back in one piece after three tours, but a lot of my friends weren’t so lucky. Some of

them had physical wounds; all of them had emotional ones. Quite a few of them work for me now .” “I know,” I smile. “I met some. They think you’re a hero .” He shrugs. “It’s easy to look like a hero when you’re signing somebody’s paycheck .” I think of Quentin Pearce and cringe inwardly . “You’re being modest,” I say. “They told me you saved a lot of lives overseas .” “A lot of guys did,” he says, glancing at his watch. “I’ve got us a table at the Purple Room in twenty minutes. Sound good ?” I let him change the subject; he never was one to take praise very well. It was pretty rare that he got any growing up . “This is crazy,” I say . He looks at me, startled . “What do you mean ?” “I mean the last time we were together, you could barely afford a burger at McDonald’s. Now we’re

on our way to the most expensive restaurant in Chicago. I’d say you’ve come a long way, but that doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface .” He finishes his scotch . “I try not to think about that,” he says. “Money’s just a perk of the job, really. I’d be just as happy eating burgers at the Bad Apple every day, but clients kind of expect high-end treatment. It’s the work that’s important .” “So I’ve heard. A lot of people have better lives because of Atlas .” “I saw some bad stuff on the other side of the world. It changes you, or at least it changed me. I wanted to help people, and when I met Sully, it was like God was saying ‘all right, here’s your opportunity .’” I nod. “By all accounts, it sounds like he was a wonderful man .” “He was the father I never had,” Chance says simply. “Everything I have, I owe to him .” “Don’t sell yourself short, Chance. When we were young, you were like this giant warehouse full of potential, just waiting for someone to unlock your

door. I think maybe Sully was that key for you .” He smiles. “I never thought of it that way .” “You never did see yourself the way I saw you,” I say before I can stop myself . He looks uncomfortable all of a sudden; I’m sure if there were a mirror in here, I’d look the same. Way to make it awkward, Sara . Chance breaks the tension by changing the subject again . “I’d rather talk about you,” he says. “Tre told me about Bishop & Associates. So you and Gracie track down missing kids? That’s incredible .” I blush. “Nothing like what Atlas does,” I say. “But – well, you know what Grace and I went through when we were growing up. A lot of girls aren’t lucky enough to have… people in their lives to help them through it .” Suddenly his hand is on top of mine. I don’t think he even realizes he’s done it; there’s just this empathetic look in his eyes, urging me to go on . “So they leave,” I say. “Unfortunately, there’s never a shortage of hawks out there looking for

girls to exploit. We work to find them and get them out of those situations .” “Sounds dangerous,” he says . I shrug. “You taught me how to handle myself years ago, and I’ve been practicing ever since. I’m pretty good at it .” “So you’re saying everything you are today, you owe to me?” he says with a grin . I giggle. “Yes, Dudley Do-Right,” I say, pretending to swoon. “You saved me from the railroad tracks of life !” That makes him laugh. It’s the first time he’s done that around me since we met up again, and it prompts an aching wave of nostalgia in my heart. Suddenly all I can think of are what-ifs . I down the last of my vodka in an effort to get a hold of myself . “But those cases tend not to pay all that well,” I say. “So I have to take some jobs that aren’t quite as morally upright, if you know what I mean .” Chance nods. “There are a lot of rappers and reality show stars who need bodyguards, and they

help Atlas keep the lights on. Sometimes you have to work with people like that .” “Yup. And sometimes, you have to work with people like Quentin Pearce .” The car comes to a stop and the driver comes around to open our door . “Let’s not talk about that,” Chance says, taking my hand. “I want us to just be happy tonight .” I smile, trying to mask the emotions running just below the surface of my eyes . “I want that, too .” You can’t imagine how much .

Chapter Ninety-Four 2 0. CHANCE “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask as my driver motors off into the darkness . “What, with walking? I’m pretty good at it, Chance. Been doing it since I was a toddler .” I chuckle. Sara always could make me laugh like nobody else . “You know what I mean .” “Yes, I know what you mean, and I’m fine with it. I really want to see your place, Chance .” We’re both a little tipsy, but that’s okay. Dinner went better than I could have hoped. We spent the whole time catching up. She was most interested in stories about what Atlas does for people in dangerous situations around the world; I wanted to hear more about the girls she’s rescued . Quentin Pearce never came up once, which makes me think I may have accomplished my goal .

You accomplished more than that, my conscience tells me. Sara’s on her way to your penthouse right now. Where are you going to go from here ? Wherever I have to if it means saving Atlas . Saving Atlas. Uh-huh. Nothing at all to do with satisfying the urges you’ve been having since she walked into that boardroom . Shut up, brain. You’re starting to sound like Tre . “The food tonight was amazing,” Sara says . “Better than the Blue Box Café?” I ask. It’s what we used to call the Kraft Mac & Cheese I practically live on when we were kids . “Oh my God,” she giggles. “I haven’t thought of that in years .” “What’s that line from the Barenaked Ladies song? Something about eating even more mac and cheese if I had a million dollars .” “Is it true? I mean, I assume you have a lot more than a million dollars. Is your pantry stuffed with blue boxes and expensive ketchups ?” “There’s nothing in my pantry,” I confess. “I, uh,

don’t really cook .” She goggles at me. “Seriously ?” “Hey, I grew up on the streets and then went into the military and got fed every meal. Where was I going to learn how ?” “And then you struck it rich and realized you could afford the Purple Room,” she says with a mocking grin . “Don’t hate the player,” I say. “Hate the game .” She giggles and takes my arm. I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing it – it was practically a reflex for her when we were young . We amble along North Wayne Avenue like that for a while until I see my house in the distance . “There’s my place,” I say, pointing to the threestory greystone I bought a couple years ago . “Holy crap,” she breathes . “It’s not the storeroom at the rec center,” I say. “But it’s all right, in its own way .” She giggles. “That’s incredible. I’m so proud of you, Chance. You’ve come so far .”

I pull her closer to me as we approach the lobby . “You ain’t seen nothing yet .”

Chapter Ninety-Five 2 1. SARA Chance’s house reminds me a lot of the Atlas offices: sleek and understated, with lots of wood and glass. The foyer opens onto the front room and the elegant staircase to the second floor, with a glimpse down the hall at a modern kitchen . There’s no hint of a feminine touch to the décor anywhere. I can’t help but take that as a good sign . “It’s beautiful,” I say as he closes the massive walnut front door behind us . “Thanks. I don’t get to spend a lot of time here; mostly I’m traveling for work. There’s a little suite adjacent to my office, too, for those nights when I don’t make it home from work .” “Oh, sure,” I say, nodding. “I mean, who doesn’t have one of those, right ?” He grins as he leads me down the hall, past a tasteful dining room with a low table that looks like it was made from a solid piece of ebony, and into the kitchen .

“Parties always seemed to end up in the kitchen when we were kids,” he says. “Might as well start there .” It’s a huge space, with about twenty feet of counter space and polished ash cabinets that go all the way up to the ceiling. An eight-by-four-foot island separates the kitchen proper from a subdued family room with a huge TV on the wall and a floor-toceiling window onto the back yard . “I feel like I’m dreaming,” I say. “Something like this – I never could have imagined it when we were young .” “You and me both,” he says, pouring us each a drink from a sideboard in the family room. “I used to dream about just having my own bedroom back then, let alone this .” Grace and I were far from well-off, but at least we had our own rooms. Chance never had a room to himself in the foster care system; the closest he ever came was the sofa in the basement of Tre’s house . He hands me my glass and I raise it in a toast . “To you,” I say. “You did it, Chance. You made your own reality. I always knew you would .”

“I’ve got a better one,” he says. “To those kids in the storeroom of the rec center, who never gave up on themselves .” That slices like a blade, but I don’t let it show. If only he could have said we never gave up on each other . For a moment, we stand there quietly, looking out at the night sky and the stunning landscaping of the yard. It looks like a Japanese garden of sorts, with cedar and stone and a fountain in the center . “Come with me,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to a spiral staircase in the corner . “Where are we going ?” “Up.” Two flights later and we emerge through another walnut door onto a rooftop patio. There’s outdoor furniture that forms a conversation area overlooking the yard and the rest of the downtown neighborhood . I scan the 360-degree view . “It’s gorgeous .”

“Yeah,” he says, looking at me. “It sure is .” I down my drink in the hopes of slowing my suddenly rapid heart rate. What’s going on? Is it what I hoped when he invited me here? What did I hope? Am I ready for this? Do I want this ? Chance places his glass on a low end table and takes my hand . “Remember when we used to slow dance in the storeroom?” he asks. “Just swaying back and forth to whatever was playing on that shitty little transistor radio that only picked up the oldies station ?” I nod, unable to speak . He takes a remote control of the table and taps a button. Immediately, Madonna starts singing from an unseen speaker about being crazy for someone . Chance pulls me toward him and I move as if in a trance. We take our places like we always did back then: me with my arms around his neck, him with his hands clasped at the small of my back. It’s like the last fifteen years just disappear like steam on a windowpane . I can’t seem to swallow as we sway back and forth

under the stars, staring into each other’s eyes, with the muffled sounds of downtown and the song on the radio. Finally, he brings his forehead down to touch mine . “I missed you, Sara,” he whispers . “I missed you, too .” The little oboe line signals the end of the song as he draws my hand to his lips and kisses it . “Thanks for the dance,” he whispers . This is crazy. I shouldn’t do this. Quentin will fire my ass if he finds out. I need that money . “One more,” I whisper back as The Cars start to wonder who’s going to drive someone home tonight . The world comes to a standstill for the duration of the song. Our hips move as one, in perfect synch, just like they used to when we were young. It’s as if our bodies remembered things our brains forgot . I want to stay in this moment for a month, then collect my check from Quentin and … And what, Sara ?

Chance pulls away slightly as the song ends. “One more?” he asks . “No, thanks,” I say. “How about you show me your bedroom instead ?”

Chapter Ninety-Six 2 2. SARA “This is bigger than my apartment,” I marvel as he leads me through the frosted glass door into his room . “Yeah, it’s pretty ridiculous,” he says, tapping a switch on the wall that ignites indirect lighting under panels along the ceiling. “I mean, a family could live in here. But it came with the house .” There’s a living room suite in one corner near the huge window that looks out onto North Wayne Avenue. In the other corner is a grouping of highend exercise equipment . And, of course, there’s the oversized bed on the solid walnut platform frame . What are you doing here? This is insane . Shut up, brain! Don’t make me go back to killing you with vodka at the Toad & Turtle pub ! Chance pulls me gently to him, and I follow willingly. Whatever tonight is about, it’s going to

happen. I’m not going to spend my life regretting what-ifs anymore – whatever happens, happens . “You’re sure?” he asks again . “I’ve never been so sure of anything in fifteen years,” I whisper, closing the distance between our lips until they finally touch again, for the first time as adults . The soft heat is so familiar and yet totally new at the same time. My heart flutters as his tongue gently parts my lips and touches my own, tentatively at first, then with more passion. I melt into his arms as he holds me tighter, wrapping himself around me . My arms grip his neck for dear life, feeling the coiled muscle under the skin as I press into him even more. His chest is like rock against my breasts, prompting a wave of heat down below. My hips respond independent of my mind, pressing forward against him . Our lips part for a moment as Chance catches his breath . “This is… this is good,” he pants. “Right ?” “So good,” I whisper as I cover his mouth with

mine again. I’m hungry now, for everything he’ll give me . My fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt as he shuffles me backwards toward the bed. I yank his shirt free and pull it off, exposing his rippling torso to me for the first time since we were teens . My breath stops in my chest as the low light delineates a relief of scar tissue along his pectoral muscles and down the ribs on one side . “Oh my God, Chance.” I run my fingers gingerly over the old wounds. “What happened ?” “War,” he says simply. “This was from an ambush attack. Sully was actually there that night. It was when we …” Suddenly, there’s a stricken look in his eyes, but it fades just as quickly . “Do you really want to talk about my scars?” he asks, taking the hand that’s been touching them in his own and pulling it to his lips. He kisses the inside of my wrist and my knees almost buckle . “No,” I say, pulling him down with me onto the bed. “I can think of a lot of things I’d rather do .”

Chapter Ninety-Seven 2 3. CHANCE She probes my mouth with hers again as I lean over her on the bed. Still cherry, after all these years . God, I can’t believe I almost told her about that night with Sully. I came this close to giving away the secret I’ve been working so fucking hard to keep from her . Sure, says my conscience. Like this is hard work . The bed is three times as wide as the old cot in the rec center storeroom, but my body still knows what to do with Sara’s. I reach under her and wrap her in my arms, lowering myself onto the mattress next to her. She responds by lifting her leg on top of mine and pressing in even closer . So many nights we spent like this in those days. But we were kids back then . Tonight we’re both grown-ups. And I want to act like the adults we are . “Sara,” I groan as her lips move off mine and find

their way down to the nape of my neck. Her tongue feels like a hot poker against my skin . I brazenly reach for the zipper of her dress and unzip her. Her reaction is to wriggle out of the shoulder straps and pull herself free, giving me full view of her lacy black bra and a tease of the luscious breasts concealed inside . My mouth closes on the swell of her cleavage as my tongue explores the delicate, salty skin there. This is as far as we ever went back in the day. And I don’t want to stop here . Sara must feel the same way, because the next thing I know her right hand is behind her back and suddenly the bra snaps open on her chest. I pull it off eagerly, until I’m staring at her full, naked breasts . “Touch me,” she whispers in my ear as her crotch grinds into my thigh. “I want to feel your hands all over me .” I can barely hold back. My hands reach down and massage her breasts, felling the hot, hard nipples against my palms. My hard cock is pressing desperately against my zipper, struggling to break free from its restraints like a hungry tiger on a chain .

Sara responds to me with abandon, pulling her dress all the way off until her panties are grinding against the fabric of my slacks. This is the moment I fantasized about so many times as a teenager, lying awake at night in my cot and masturbating myself to sleep with thoughts of her . Her hands start tugging at my belt. As she frees it, she yanks down the zipper and pulls my pants down, past my erection, until they puddle onto the floor beside the bed . “God, Chance,” she hisses in my ear as she frees my cock from my boxers and grips it. “I waited so fucking long for this …” “It’s all yours,” I say before sliding my tongue down to her nipple. The heat and pressure of her crotch against my leg increases, and I feel a hint of moisture in the fabric of her panties . A moment later and I’ve managed to kick my shorts to the floor. I’m fully naked beside her for the first time in my life. All the other women I’ve ever slept with suddenly disappear from my memory; it’s as if I’m lying with a woman for the first time . Sara’s boldness is turning me on even more as she sits up and pushes me onto my back, hands against my shoulders. As I lie down, she straddles me and

lowers herself so that her crotch is pressing against the underside of my steel-hard shaft . The heat against my sensitive skin almost makes me come instantly. I breathe deeply, trying to think of baseball . Who am I kidding? There is a goddess on top of me, her breasts staring me in the face as she grinds her pussy on my cock. How am I supposed to think of anything but her ? My hands close around her breasts and massage gently. My fingers roll around the nipples, each light pinch resulting in another grind against me. Sara’s eyes are closed, her breath ragged . “So long,” she sighs. “Finally .” That’s when the inevitable starts to begin, and suddenly I’m doing everything I can to keep from coming .

Chapter Ninety-Eight 2 4. SARA God, this feels soooo incredible . I’m on fire down there as I feel Chance’s shaft between my legs for the first time. It’s so much better than I imagined it would be – the connection, the look of pleasure on his face, the delicious ache of desire all through me . I take his hands in mine as they gently squeeze my breasts. As soon as I do, he pulls me down to him and engulfs my mouth with his again. His cock jerks and flexes against my lower lips through the thin satin of my panties while his hands slide down and under the fabric to grab my ass . What have I been missing all this time? Why have I waited so long for this ? “Chance,” I moan. “I want you so much …” My hips are moving with a mind of their own now, grinding my wet crotch harder against his shaft. Beneath me I can feel his body start to tremble as he lets go of my ass and grabs my arms .

“Oh, Sara,” he grunts. “I can’t… I can’t hold back …” It feels so right… so right … I gasp at the sudden hot wetness against my panties and lower belly. My eyes snap open and see Chance’s twisted face and the droplets running down his abdomen . And suddenly I’m hit with a wave of vertigo that threatens to drown me . You touched his thing, Sara. Smack. I told you what would happen if you touched his thing. Smack.And now look what’s happened.It’s spurted its devil seed all over you . Smack. Pray with me, Sara. Beg the Lord for His forgiveness . Smack . The voice of my mother in my head is like a ghost in the room with us, and I can feel the sharp agony of each lash of the belt against my thighs as if it’s happening again right now . “Sara?” Chance whispers, alarmed. “Sara, I’m sorry. Are you all right ?” I can feel myself trembling but I’m powerless to stop it. Everything was so good, but now I feel like I’m going to vomit .

Damn you, Mom. Even dead, you still torture me . I swallow hard and manage to open my eyes . “I’m fine,” I lie. “This was just… unexpected .” “Yeah,” he pants. “For me too. Do you... do you want to …?” “I think I should go,” I say, climbing off him . Suddenly the feeling of being naked in front of him is mortifying, when just a few moments ago it felt like the ultimate freedom. God, I’m so fucked up ! I wriggle into my bra and gather up my dress, trying not to seem frantic. Chance pulls on his shorts and zips me up without being asked . “I really am sorry,” I say. “Tonight was …” “Yeah,” he says. “It was .” “But it’s just not …” “Not the right time,” he says. “I get it. It’s okay .” I kick into my shoes and grab my purse from the nightstand . “Let me call my driver to take you home,” he says .

“It’s fine, I’ll just catch a cab. There should be plenty on North Wayne at this time of night .” He throws on a robe as I speed-walk to the bedroom door . “At least let me see you out,” he says, ever the gentleman . We walk downstairs in silence. As we reach the front door, he takes my arm and pulls me close . “I hope you don’t regret tonight, Sara. I don’t .” The demons in my mind are chanting unspeakable things to me about touching his thing , but I manage to wrestle them back long enough to speak . “I don’t regret it,” I say, laying a hand on his cheek. “I’m just a little… confused. Can you understand that ?” “Of course .” “Can we take it slow ?” Chance takes my hand from his cheek and kisses it . “Absolutely.”

I flash a smile that I hope doesn’t look as strained as it feels and say good night. He stands in the doorway and watches until I flag down a cab and ride away into the night . I’m not even a block from Chance’s house before my phone starts to warble in my purse. I pull it out, expecting Chance’s number to show up on the screen. I don’t know what I’ll say to him . But it’s not him. It’s Quentin Pearce . Shit. I briefly consider letting it go to voicemail before finally hitting the answer button. I can’t afford to screw things up any more than I may have already . “Quentin,” I say. “Kind of late, isn’t it ?” “Money never sleeps,” he quips. “Have you got an update for me yet ?” “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but so far, there’s nothing. Atlas is a paragon of virtue .” “I know that much,” he grumbles. “It’s Chance Talbot I need the dirt on .” “I haven’t found anyone who wouldn’t take a

bullet for him so far. I’m beginning to think whatever rumors you’re hearing are just that – rumors .” “I didn’t hire you to chase a wild goose for a month, I hired you to find Talbot’s Achilles heel. If you can’t do that, maybe I need to cancel your contract right now and find someone who can .” I cringe. This whole situation is getting out of control, but without that money, Grace and I might not even be able to keep our doors open. I don’t have a choice here . “I’m getting closer,” I blurt. “I just need to find the right person to talk .” “You better,” he says. “Taking over Atlas isn’t enough here – I can buy the Sullivans’ shares, but as long as Talbot still has a significant amount of stock, I won’t be able to do what I need to do with the company. So get me results .” As usual, he indicates the conversation is over by hanging up . I sigh as I rest my head against the cab window and watch the downtown lights fly by. I thought life was confusing enough before I answered that first call from Pearce a few days ago. Now I realize that I

didn’t even know the half of it . What the hell am I going to do now ?

Chapter Ninety-Nine 2 5. CHANCE “I don’t know how your plan’s been going, but it doesn’t seem to be having an effect on Sara’s investigation,” says Tre. “She’s going about her business the same way she has since this whole thing started .” She’s kept our conversations almost completely professional the last couple days, too, but I’m not going to give Tre the satisfaction of knowing that . “I’m telling you,” I say. “Things went really well the other night. We reconnected .” He holds up a hand. “Spare me the details, if you don’t mind .” “I don’t kiss and tell .” “See, just saying that is telling .” I grin. “Okay, I’ll leave it at this: we were acting like when we were kids again .” Tre fixes me with a lecturing look. “Under other

circumstances, I’d be over the moon about you guys getting back together. I can’t think of anybody who deserves happiness as much as you two. But doing it this way… I just don’t know, man .” A knock at my office door interrupts what I’m sure would have been my clever comeback . “Yeah,” I call out . Karen pokes her head in the door. “Sara’s here to see you, Chance .” “Speak of the devil,” I say with a smile. “Send her in .” Sara walks in looking perfect, as always. Today she’s in a sleek pants suit that shows off her legs and makes her look like a power executive. My cock gives a little throb under my own pants as I imagine having a special board meeting with her . “What can we do for you?” I ask . “I was just wondering if you two might be free tonight,” she says. “I promised Grace that I’d set up a get-together with all of us soon. She’s been dying to see you guys again .” Tre grins wide. “Absolutely,” he says. “I’d love to

catch up with little Gracie .” “She’s not so little anymore,” Sara cautions. “She’s a grown-up now. Well, as much as Grace is ever going to be, anyway .” I chuckle. “I’d love to see her, too .” And if it gives me another opportunity to spend time with Sara, so much the better. I’m excited now – not just for catching up with Grace, but at the fact Sara isn’t walking on eggshells around me anymore. If she’s inviting us out, it means she’s not feeling weird about the other night . At least, that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself . “I’ve got another friend I’d like to bring along,” Sara says. “She’s my BFF, my therapist and my mixed martial arts instructor .” “Sounds intriguing,” says Tre. “The more the merrier. Where should we go ?” “Well, with you two moneybags buying, I suppose we could go anywhere in the city,” she grins. “But there’s an English pub near my apartment called the Toad & Turtle that we’re sort of regulars at. So if you guys don’t mind slumming it in Riverdale …”

“We’ll be there,” I say a little too quickly. Way to play it cool, Chance . “Perfect,” she says. I’d like to think her smile is all for me . “What time?” Tre asks . “How about eight?” she asks. “And please bring your significant other, Tre .” “Oh, I’m single .” “Is that right?” Sara says, arching an eyebrow. “Grace and Kelsey will be very interested to hear that, I’m sure .” I can’t see it in his skin, but I’m a hundred percent positive Tre is blushing right now. For a guy with his looks and success, he’s always been oddly shy around girls . “We’ll be there,” I say. “We’ll start at your pub, but who knows where the night will take us? We’re young, single and rich .” Sara crosses her arms and sizes me up. “You sure you two can keep up with us? We’re semi-pros at this .”

“Challenge accepted,” I say with a smug grin. “Last one standing has to get the other ones home safe .” Tre sighs. “You know that’s going to be me .” I drape an arm over his shoulders. “Yes, I do. Sorry, buddy .” “All right, then,” Sara says. “We’ll meet you there .” “I can’t wait,” I say, hoping she picks up on the lewd thoughts I’m trying to telepathically send to her .

Chapter One Hundred 2 6. SARA I sure hope this isn’t the stupidest idea I’ve ever had in my life . Luckily for me, I’ve set the “stupid idea” bar pretty high in my life, so chances are good that this isn’t the stupidest of them all. How comforting is that ? But it’s all I could think of to loosen up Chance’s tongue, or, barring that, maybe Tre’s. If I don’t have something to show Quentin soon, I could be in real trouble. If his behavior up to now is any indicator, I don’t want to deal with him if he gets any more annoyed than he already is . It doesn’t help that I’ve been waiting outside his office for over half an hour now. His receptionist started flashing me sympathetic smiles every ten minutes or so . “Just a conference call,” she whispers confidentially, as if he were there in the room with us or something. “Any minute now .” I swallow a sarcastic comment and smile back .

The extra minutes give me some time to consider what I have planned. From my conversations with some of Chance’s fellow vets, I’ve gleaned that he and Sully were in Iraq right before they started the expansion phase of Atlas. Could there be a connection between that and the capital infusion ? It’s thin, but at least it’s something to tell Quentin . A few minutes later, I notice the receptionist is starting to look a little twitchy. Her eyes keep darting to the clock on the wall and then around the room . “Everything okay?” I ask . She gives me a pained smile. “Just need a break, if you known what I mean .” I shrug. “Go then. I’ll be fine here on my own .” “It’s just that Mr. Pearce doesn’t like me being away from my desk …” I struggle to keep from shaking my head. He can be such a petty little man sometimes . “I won’t tell if you won’t,” I whisper . The relief on her face is obvious. “Thank you,” she

says as she gets up and clutches her purse. “I really appreciate it .” She shuffles off stiff-legged down the hallway, making me wonder just what the hell is knocking at her door. I decide I don’t really want to know . A few moments after she leaves, I glance at my watch: I’ve been her forty-five minutes now. My patience wore out about five minutes ago . To hell with this. I’m going to open his door and sit down in his office. Maybe if he sees me he’ll finally wrap up this all-important fucking conference call . As I turn the handle and crack the door, I hear: “… tired of you constantly breathing down my neck. You’ll get the dirt on Talbot when you get it, and not before. Is that clear ?” My eyes widen as I see Quentin with his back to the door, pacing with a Bluetooth headset attached to his ear. I quickly and quietly retreat and close the door behind me before he can turn around and catch me . What was that about? Does someone else have a stake in the Atlas deal ? I glance down the hallway: no sign of the diarrhetic

receptionist yet. My gut tells me to take advantage of the situation, so I reach into my purse and pull out my mobile. I call up an app that I got from a less-then reputable source and plug in my earbuds . The jagged little Bluetooth logo comes up with a list of devices to pair with. Using the app, I pair with the one named Pearce. How could such a smart investor be so dumb about basic communications security? I normally use this to eavesdrop on drug dealers and other folks with less-than-stellar intellects . “I’m not sure I like that tone,” says a man with a thick Long Island accent. “We’re partners, Pearcy. Partners don’t talk like that to each other .” “Then feel free to kiss my ass and walk away,” says Quentin. “And don’t call me Pearcy again if you know what’s good for you .” The other voice chuckles. “You’re threatening me ? I think you got that backwards, my friend .” “Then let me disabuse you of that notion, little man. I’m about as scared of you as I am of Chance Talbot, which is to say not in the slightest. You’d do well to remember that. And if you have trouble, I’ll be sure to ask your uncle to remind you .”

“Oh, eh,” says the other voice. “No need to get him involved .” “Then kindly go piss up a rope until I feel the need to call you .” The line goes dead just as the receptionist strides back into the room. Her hair is a bit askew, making me wonder again what she had to go through in the ladies’ room . “Just got an urgent phone message,” I say as I pull out the earbud, “Please tell Mr. Pearce that I had to run and that I’ll catch up with him later .” “Are you sure?” she asks. “You waited for so long. I’m sure he’ll be done in just another minute .” He’s already done and I need to get out of here before that door opens . “Don’t worry,” I say, heading into the hall. “I’m used to waiting a long time for no reason .”

Chapter One Hundred One 2 7. CHANCE “I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised,” I say to Tre as the waitress, a buxom blonde in jeans and a black t-shirt, places our beers on the table. “I didn’t expect much out of this place .” He nods and takes a pull from his bottle of Coors . “It’s not the VIP room at Studio Paris,” he says. “But it’s pretty cool. Kind of a neighborhood pub feel. I like it .” We’ve both dressed down for tonight, which in Tre’s case means no tie. I’m in a sport jacket and jeans, with a casual shirt and my favorite cowboy boots. It still sets us apart from the guys in the room, most of whom sport different combinations of Cubs, Bears and/or Bulls paraphernalia. The TVs on the wall are tuned to the various cable sports channels, where the guys in the bar watch two of those three teams in action while a bunch of people in suits talk about the third team .

I’ll take the Phillies, Eagles and 76ers any day, but I’d never say that in a place like this. I may be tough, but I’m not that tough . Tre turns to look me in the eye . “Are you going to just let this be a fun night of catching up?” he asks. “Or is this part of your master plan, too ?” “A little of both,” I say . “Not for me it ain’t. I haven’t gone out and just had a good time since I can’t remember when. Fucking boss never lets me have any time off .” I flip him the bird as I down half my beer in a single pull. It’s so cold there’s sweat running down the side of the bottle. I like that . The jukebox in the corner starts playing AC/DCs You Shook Me All Night Long just as Sara walks in. It’s like some sort of cosmic prank, because the way she looks is enough to make me stop my beer in mid-lift and just stare at her. She’s in a sleeveless white camisole and jeans that look like her skin has been sprayed with denim-colored paint. Her blackand-red pumps complete the ensemble . Oh, and Grace is with her. And some other woman .

I stand and catch Sara’s eye, motioning her to the table. She looks like something out of a movie, strutting in time to the beat of the music. I swear time slows down and she’s moving in slow motion. Her eyes are only on me – or at least that’s what I’m going to tell myself . I finally shake off my paralysis and notice that Sara was right: Grace is definitely not little anymore . “Wow,” I say to her. “I used to know a kid who looked just like you, except she was about a foot shorter and skinny as a rake handle .” She giggles and wraps her arms around my neck . “It’s good to see you, Chance,” she says. “You’ve filled out too, I see. Just like Sara said you had .” She did, did she ? “Tre!” Grace hoots. “Look at you !” “I’m too busy looking at you , girl !” If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I just saw something flash between those two … Then Sara’s hand is on my arm and suddenly that’s all I’m aware of .

“Chance Talbot,” she says. “I’d like you to meet my friend, Kelsey Gates. Kelsey, this is Chance .” Kelsey grins wide and takes my hand. “Sara has told me a lot about you,” she says . “She hasn’t told me quite as much about you,” I say. “But what she does say is very positive. It’s a pleasure to meet you .” Kelsey and Tre greet each other as I take Sara aside . “Did you see what I saw ?” “Uh-huh,” she says. “I think we may have to keep an eye on Gracie and Tre tonight .” “Or just leave them be,” I say. “They’re both grown-ups .” She grins. “You obviously haven’t spent any time around Grace lately .” “Enh, don’t worry. Tre is enough of a grown-up for all of us .”

Chapter One Hundred Two 2 8. CHANCE “What was I saying earlier about Tre?” I say in Sara’s ear . He, Grace and Kelsey are dancing to The Safety Dance over by the pool tables, and it’s hilarious. For someone who was All-American in his college football days, Tre’s dance moves are like the physical manifestation of a Greek tragedy . Luckily, the girls don’t seem to mind. And he’s had more drinks tonight than I’ve ever seen him have in a single night, so he’s feeling zero pain. It’s about time . Sara smiles. “I have a feeling it’s going to be us looking after them tonight,” she says, raising her voice to be heard over the music . “Please don’t tell me you have dibs on this one,” says a voice from behind Sara. We turn to see a new server carrying a tray of refills for us .

“Amber!” Sara beams. “How are you ?” Amber looks me over as she sets the drinks on the table. “Obviously not as good as you, girl. Who’s this ?” “Amber Hoffman, this is Chance Talbot. We knew each other back in Philly and now we’re – uh, sort of working together. For a while .” She reaches a long-nailed hand toward me in greeting . “Charmed, I’m sure,” she says. Her thick Chicago accent makes it come out chermed I’m sheeyer . “Nice to meet you,” I say . “So, are you two…” Amber asks, eyebrows raised . I look at Sara. She glances away, but she’s got a smile on her face . “Don’t you have people to serve?” she asks . “I guess that’s my answer,” Amber says, giving Sara a peck on the cheek. “Way to go, honey .” I’m about to tease Sara about where we stand with each other when Grace comes charging over and pulls her out of her chair .

“Come dance!” Grace hollers as the opening strains of Springsteen’s Dancing In The Dark blast out of the jukebox . Sara seems relieved to get away from me. I can’t blame her. A moment later, Kelsey collapses into the chair Sara just left . “Whooo,” she breathes. “That Grace has enough energy to light up Wrigley Field .” I grin. “She was always a spitfire. So, Kelsey, where did you serve ?” Her eyebrows go up. “How did you know I was in the service ?” “I can tell by the way you move,” I say with a shrug. “Game recognizes game, you know ?” She smiles. “Impressive. I served with Ashley White in the Female Engagement Team in Afghanistan in 2011 .” “Whoa. Now that’s impressive. If it hadn’t been for your team, they probably wouldn’t have lifted the ban on women in combat in 2013 .” We toast each other. There’s an instant camaraderie

among combat vets that transcends the spoken word . “If you’re ever looking for a new career, call me,” I say. “Atlas needs good people .” “And give up my career as Sara’s shrink?” she says with a laugh. “She talks about you a lot, you know .” “She does?” I try to keep it out of my face, but inside my stomach does a backflip . “Yeah,” she says. “So keep this in mind, Marine: Sara is my best friend. You hurt her and I’ll fucking kill you in your sleep. Copy that ?” “Sir, yessir,” I say with a nod. “I know better than to mess with one of Ashley White’s soldiers .” She grins and sips at her wine. Our dance floor trio chooses that moment to show back up at the table and tear into the new round of drinks . “How you doing, brother?” I ask Tre . His eyes struggle to focus as he answers . “I’m fucking great,” he slurs. “Showing these white folks how to dance .”

“You sure are,” I say, slapping him on the back . Sara leans in close. “What were you and Kelsey talking about ?” “Just your old boyfriends,” I say . Her face drops in horror . “I’m kidding,” I chuckle. “It was military stuff .” She punches my arm. “Don’t do that to me !” “Why not?” I ask with a sinister glance. “Is there some deep, dark secret you don’t want me to find out ?” She looks a little off-balance for a moment before recovering . “No,” she says. “How about you? Anything you’re hiding ?” Suddenly this isn’t funny anymore. I need to get out of this before I end up in a downward spiral that I can’t get out of . “You’ve seen everything I’ve got to show,” I say with a leer . She bites her bottom lip. It’s hands-down the single

sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life . “How about we have your driver take these three home?” she says in my ear. “You could come and see my place. It’s not far from here .” Suddenly I can’t finish my drink soon enough .

Chapter One Hundred Three 2 9. SARA I knew it. When I asked Chance if he was hiding anything, he lied to my face . Of course, I lied to his face right before that, so I guess we’re even. We’re both hiding something. The difference is, I’m actively searching for his secret . “Where we goin’?” Tre slurs as the limo pulls up outside the pub. “’Nother bar ?” “You’re all going home,” Chance says. “Take tomorrow off, buddy. Sleep in .” Grace pipes up: “Maybe I should make sure Tre gets into his place okay .” I glare at her. “Do you really think that’s a good idea ?” “I guess not,” she grumbles. “Just askin.’ Try to help somebody …”

Chance puts a hand on the driver’s shoulder . “Make sure Tre’s is your last stop, okay ?” As they chat, Kelsey sidles up to me . “I like Chance,” she says. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you two have a history together .” I can’t help but smile. I trust Kelsey more than my own sister; her opinion means a lot to me . “I have no idea where we’re going with this,” I say. “It’s like we’re driving through a forest in the dark without any headlights .” She chuckles and shakes her head . “You think it’s any different for the rest of us? It’s always a gamble, sweetie. The question is whether you’re willing to spin the wheel and accept the consequences, good or bad .” Am I willing to spin the wheel? And even if I am willing, am I even capable of spinning it? I honestly don’t know . What I do know is that Chance is coming back to my place right now. And we’ll see what happens from there .

We both wave as the limo’s taillights fade into traffic. Chance turns to me and smiles . “So,” he says. “Your place .” “Yup. It’s about four blocks this way .” Strolling through the glow of the streetlights makes me think of the other night, when we were headed to Chance’s house. I can’t help but draw an unflattering comparison in my head . “Just so you know, my place isn’t a greystone,” I say . “Is it bigger than a storeroom?” he asks . “Yes,” I grin. “It’s bigger than a storeroom .” “Then I’m looking forward to it .” I take his arm was we wander for a few blocks, stopping every now and then to look in storefront windows. The neighborhood isn’t great, but there are lots worse in Chicago. Plenty worse in Philly, too . “How far now?” he asks as we cross the entrance to an alleyway . “That’s far enough,” says a voice from the shadows

. Suddenly Chance’s hand is on my waist, pushing me behind him . “What are you doing ?” Before he can answer, I see four men in hooded sweatshirts walking toward us from the alley . “We saw you with the limo,” says the one in front. None of their faces are visible in the shadows of the tenements on either side of the alley. “Give me your wallet .” Chance holds up a steadying hand while he reaches into his sport jacket pocket with the other . “No problem, man,” he says calmly. “It’s all yours .” Suddenly one of the others is moving toward me, reaching for my purse . “Whatcha got in there?” he asks as he yanks on the strap. The sudden jerk pulls me along with it, making me lose my balance . “Hey!” Chance barks. “Don’t touch her !” “Or what, motherfucker?” the guy yells. “You

gonna do something about it ?” “No,” I say, glaring at Chance. “He’s not going to do anything .” Chance waits a beat while I take a breath . “I’ll do it for him,” I say as I stomp the heel of my pump into the guy’s instep. He shrieks in pain until I drive my right elbow into the bridge of his nose. Then there’s only a wet crunching sound . “What the fuck – ” the guy in front manages to say before Chance’s fist pile-drives into his mouth. Chance follows it up with knee to the groin, a stomp kick to the inside of the knee, and finally a wristlock that sends the guy face-first into the pavement . I finish off my guy with a punch to the throat, then spin to face the other one nearest me. Meanwhile, Chance has the remaining attacker in a chokehold, slowly passing out . I drop into my kickboxing stance. “You can run now if you want,” I say . The .38 Special is out of his pocket and pointing at me before I even see his hand move .

“I’m not runnin’ anywhere, bitch .” My heart barely has time to skip a beat before I hear the sickening clank of metal hitting bone. As the gunman drops to his knees, I see Chance standing behind him, holding a length of hollow steel fence pipe like a Louisville slugger . “Thanks,” I say, tasting the tang of adrenaline in my mouth . “Oorah,” he says. He’s not even breathing hard as he kneels down to pick up the gun . “Empty,” he says, weighing it in his palm. “These guys are punks. Do you want to call the police ?” “I never have before,” I say. “It always complicates things .” “You’ve done this before?” he asks, eyes wide . “I return missing girls,” I say with a shrug. “The people they sometimes end up with usually aren’t too keen on handing them over peacefully .” He shakes his head and looks at the bodies lying in heaps on the asphalt . “Wow,” he breathes. “You were seriously badass .”

“So were you,” I say, trying to slow my breathing . He pulls me closer and runs his hands along my face and torso . “Everything okay? No injuries ?” “Nope. You ?” “I’m fine .” “Good. I wouldn’t want this to ruin the rest of our evening .” He goggles at me for a few moments and then shakes his head, grinning . “Seriously badass,” he breathes “Like the old song on the radio in the storeroom used to say, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet .” I take his hand and lead him down the street to my apartment .

Chapter One Hundred Four 3 0. SARA “Welcome to my castle,” I say as I turn on the light in the entry. The old sconce on the wall illuminates my stylish closet with the plastic accordion door, as well as the fabulous vintage shag carpeting that’s stylishly worn threadbare in several spots . “Nice,” Chance says. “Looks like you’ve got everything you need .” I sigh as I finally get to kick off my pumps and feel the floor against my bare feet . “That’s sweet of you to say .” “It’s true. I like this place .” I lead him past the two bedrooms - one for my bed, the other for my workspace – and my one bathroom, into the combination kitchen-living room space at the back. It’s tiny, but there’s a huge window that has a great view of the building across the street .

“The location is good, anyway,” I sigh. “Only a few blocks from our office. Grace’s basement suite is less than half a mile, too .” “Like I said, everything you need .” I rummage through the fridge and discover, much to my surprise, a can of Coors for Chance in one of the crispers at the bottom. The bottle of cold pinot grigio that hasn’t started to smell like vinegar yet is good enough for me . We take a seat on my old IKEA sofa and each kick back a good, long shot of our drinks. We’re obviously both still a bit on edge from our fun earlier in the evening . “You really should be proud of this,” he says. “It’s not a palace, but it’s clean and it’s yours. And I’m betting you live here because the low rent lets you do more work for clients who need you but can’t afford to pay. Right ?” I raise my glass. “Spot on. There have been a couple of girls who ran away from homes that had money, but they’re few and far between .” “And you can’t say no to someone just because they can’t pay you .”

I wince. “I really should learn how to .” “No, you shouldn’t. And you shouldn’t feel guilty for having to work with Quentin Pearce, either. If that helps you to help other people, I’m all for it .” “What I do is nothing compared to what Atlas does,” I say . He surprises me by frowning . “I wish you’d stop that,” he says . “Stop what ?” “Comparing yourself to others. You’re wonderful, Sara. Not ‘wonderful relative to somebody else.’ Just wonderful. Get it ?” I smile shyly. “Did the Marines teach you to think like that ?” “No,” he says. “You did .” My stomach jumps. “What are you talking about ?” Chance shakes his head and slides closer to me until our hands are touching, making my insides flutter even more . “I spent so much of my life feeling like I was less

than other people,” he says softly. “Because I didn’t have parents, or money, or a regular home like everybody else. But you taught me that everybody felt like that, in one way or another. So I actually was like other people .” I swallow hard. Chance was always there to let me know that things would be all right when the rest of the world was dark and crazy. He was like the beacon at the top of the lighthouse for me when my dad would hurt me or make me feel small, or when Mom was in one of her manic stages and I couldn’t deal with it. He was always there to show me the path away from the stormy seas to the safety of the shore . To think that I did the same for him – it’s an incredible feeling . He takes my hand in both of his. “So enough of putting yourself down,” he says. “That’s an order .” I smile and squeeze his hand. “Yes, sir .” “Besides, I’m not some kind of hero. I’ve done things in my life that I’m not proud of. Plenty of things .” “You mean like shoplifting when you were a kid?” I ask. “Big deal. Kids do it every day .”

“Not that. I was involved in some other stuff that I never told you about. Drugs. Breaking-andentering. Other things .” I stare at him for a few moments, processing. I never knew that about him. He had a life outside of me, of course. I guess I just thought he used to tell me everything . “Still,” I say. “Look at your circumstances. You had a really hard life, Chance .” “So did you,” he says. “You stayed on the straight and narrow .” “Time to take your own advice, Marine. That’s an order .” He gives me a half-smile, but I can tell he doesn’t feel it . “There’s other stuff,” he says. “Things that happen in the heat of battle. Decisions you make in impossible situations that haunt you afterwards because people get hurt. Decisions that leave you with scars like the ones you saw the other night .” The pain in his eyes is heartbreaking. I can’t imagine what he’s seen, what he’s been through. I doubt anyone who’s never been in a war zone

could possibly know what it’s like. There’s nothing I can do to take that pain away . But what he said about decisions that hurt other people… that leave you with scars … Suddenly, I’m filled with a certainty I’ve never felt before: it’s time to tell him the truth. I can’t go back in time and do it then, but I can do it now and maybe start us on a path that will actually lead somewhere . “Chance,” I say, steeling myself for what’s to come. “There’s something you need to know .”

Chapter One Hundred Five 3 1. CHANCE When she’s finished, I sit there, silently processing it all for a long time . After a few minutes, Sara looks at me with naked hope in her eyes . “Can you forgive me?” she asks, her voice on the verge of breaking . “Forgive you?” I ask. “I’m not going to forgive you .” Her eyes shimmer with tears as I realize what I’ve just said . “That’s not what I meant,” I say. “I meant there’s nothing to forgive. Jesus, you sent me away from your house that night to stop your mother from killing herself. You can’t take any blame for that .” Now her tears are flowing and I’m kicking myself for handling this like a fool. I wrap my arms around

her and pull her tight against me as she sobs quietly . “You were in an impossible situation,” I whisper. “Your choice was to make me happy or save her life. That wasn’t a choice at all. You made the right one .” “But I could have,” she sobs. “I could have told you after …” “Shhh. You couldn’t have found me. I didn’t have a cell phone, and I never told you where I was headed to enlist. Then you went off to school and things changed. For both of us .” It finally makes sense. After all these years of wondering what I did to have her toss me away, only to find out she was forced to do it. What kind of teenager could possibly handle a situation like that ? “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” she says shakily. “You didn’t deserve it .” “Sara, if anyone should apologize, it’s me. I should have known better than to believe you’d just up and hurt me like that for no reason. I should have had more faith in you. More faith in us . But I was so fucking angry, I just took off and said to hell

with you and stormed off to the Marines .” I hold her for a few more minutes until her tears finally subside and she wipes her face dry with a tissue . “Got an issue, here’s a tissue,” she says with a harsh chuckle. “I’m sorry .” “Stop it. That’s an order .” “Okay. Sorry .” “Don’t make me ship you off to Canada, soldier .” That sparks a real giggle this time, and it makes my heart soar . “I’m so glad I got that out in the open,” she says. “It’s been festering in my heart like a splinter ever since that night .” “You and I were victims of outrageous fortune, like Hamlet,” I say. “None of it was our fault .” She blinks at me. “Did you just reference Shakespeare ?” “Hey, I wasn’t a total washout in school, you know,” I grin. “The Marines wouldn’t have accepted me if I was .”

Her head sinks into my shoulder as she snuggles in closer. I wrap my arm around her, reminding me yet again of our nights in the storeroom . “My parents really fucked me up,” she sighs. “Everything they did still affects me to this day .” “What a pair we are,” I say. “Me with no parents, wishing I had them, and you with two parents, wishing you didn’t have either one .” She picks up her glass form the table and downs the last of her wine . “At least with my father, you knew what to expect: he’d either yell at you or beat you. But Mom was something else. She knew how to manipulate us and make us feel guilty. And she instilled so many fears in us .” I kiss her temple. “But you’ve gotten past those by now, haven’t you ?” Sara sighs deeply. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But we haven’t. Especially the big one .” “Big one ?” She turns to face me, her eyes locking onto mine .

“You know how panicked I would get back then that Mom would find out we’d been together ?” Do I ever. I was a thousand times more scared of her than I ever was of the cops . “I always used that as an excuse for us not to… you know. Go all the way .” “What do you mean ?” “That was part of the problem,” she says. “But not all of it. And it’s still with me to this day. You saw it the other night in your bedroom .” I shake my head. “I don’t understand .” “Chance,” she says quietly. “Sex gives me panic attacks. And I’m still a virgin .”

Chapter One Hundred Six 3 2. SARA As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel an immense weight lift from my shoulders. Just admitting it to him makes me feel like we’re closer somehow because of it. Like he finally knows all my secrets . He stares into my eyes so long that it makes me uncomfortable . “Say something, please,” I whisper . “That bitch,” he hisses. “She couldn’t even let you enjoy sex. Did she have to ruin everything for you, for fuck’s sake ?” My heart throbs as he says the words. So many dark thoughts were rushing through my mind when he didn’t say anything. Then suddenly he’s my old Chance again, my protector, the one who’s always on my side, no matter what . “It sure seemed like it for a long time,” I say .

“So you’ve never…? With anyone ?” “The other night with you was the closest I’ve ever gotten. I’ve fooled around with a few men, but I never let it get past a hand under my shirt. That’s why they all stopped calling after the fourth date .” His brow furrows. “Guys can be bastards,” he growls . Just the fact he said that makes me melt. None of the others ever took the time to understand me. It was always about them. Chance never, ever made it about him . “But I came so close with you,” I say, stroking his cheek. “It felt so good. So right .” “It felt that way to me, too .” I wet my lips and press them against his. The flutter in my heart reaches all the way down to my core and reignites the fire I felt in Chance’s bedroom. He envelops me in his arms as we kiss more deeply . I pull back suddenly and look in his eyes . “I’m sorry,” he says. “This isn’t the right time. I shouldn’t have – ”

I lay a finger on his lips with one hand as I unbutton his shirt with the other . “It’s the right time,” I say. “It’s so right, I can barely stand it .” His eyes widen as I finish with his shirt and pull off my camisole, leaving just my sports bra. I lean in close and put my lips right next to his ear . “I want you to undress me,” I whisper . He takes orders well. His hands unbutton my fly and slide the zipper down, all while keeping his eyes locked on mine. I shimmy out of my jeans, until I’m in nothing but my underwear . “Hurry.” I sigh. “I want to be naked in front of you .” He pulls off his own shirt first, pitching it to the floor, before reaching up and squeezing my breasts through the thin black cotton. My nipples are already at attention, responding to the heat of his touch . A moment later and the bra joins my jeans and his shirt on the floor. He pulls me toward his bare torso and my breasts feel like they’re on fire when they touch his skin. I can feel hot dampness inside my

panties as his lips close around me and his tongue finds my nipple. I gasp at the sensation of his teeth gliding up and down against the sensitive skin . In the back of my mind, I can hear the voices telling me it’s wrong. But I take strength from the touch of Chance’s skin, his steely muscles holding me tight, keeping me from harm . They’re not going to win this time .

Chapter One Hundred Seven 3 3. CHANCE “Are you all right?” I ask, looking up into her eyes from breast level . “I’m perfect,” she sighs as she scoops up a breast and guides it back into my mouth. “Now get back to work .” I’m nothing if not a good soldier, so I do as I’m told. As I minister to her needs, I kick off my boots and use my toes to awkwardly slide off my socks. I need to free myself from these jeans soon before I suffer the same painful fate from my dream about this moment . But Sara pins me in place by straddling me. If only she knew how much it hurt to be in this position with my rock-hard cock pressing outwards against my jeans. But she’s just learning. I have to be patient . “Oohh,” she moans as my fingers tweak her free

nipple. I can feel that familiar damp heat between her legs against my crotch, just like the night in my bedroom . I stroke her naked back with my fingertips as our tongues meet and start to explore each other again. Slow and easy. There’s no hurry. We have all the time in the world . She pulls her mouth away from mine and puts it against my ear again . “Take your pants off,” she says. “I want to feel your hard cock again .” Or we could move faster. That works, too . She stands up and I yank my jeans and boxers down in one quick movement, kicking out of them with each foot. My soldier is standing at full attention, and it draws Sara’s attention right away . She turns around and bends over, giving me a birdseye view of her heart-shaped ass. My hands move independent of my brain, grabbing the waistband of her panties and sliding them down, revealing her fully to me . Sara steps out of her underwear and pulls me up from my seat, until we’re standing facing each

other . “I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to learn,” she says. “I need you to tell my what’s good and what’s not .” “It’s all good,” I moan as my shaft throbs and jerks at her touch . She takes her other hand and guides mine toward her mound. Her knees tremble as my fingers reach her slick outer lips, and she gasps . “Oh, my God,” she breathes . We stand there, using our hands on each other, for a long while. I make sure to stay away from the inner area so as not to hurt her, focusing instead on the sensitive nub of her clit. With each bit of pressure, she gasps again and pushes against me . My other hand gently takes the one around my cock and grips it tighter. She gets the message right away and starts stroking with a firmer grasp. I groan in appreciation and start moving my hips in time with her . Suddenly, she slides an arm around my neck and holds on tight. I feel her mound mash against my hand as her breath hitches in my ear .

“Oh yes, oh yes, right there, oh yes .” Her body shudders for a several long seconds, but she never forgets the hand around my shaft. As her tremors subside, her lips at my ear say: “That was so good, Chance. It was like being full of butterflies .” “So is this,” I say, taking the hand around my cock again. “Don’t stop .” Now that she’s recovered from her orgasm, Sara looks me in the eye . “The voices are gone,” she says. “I can feel it. We don’t have to stop .” “That’s good,” I breathe as a shiver runs through me. “Because I don’t think I can .”

Chapter One Hundred Eight 3 4. SARA Chance seems to take what I said for what it was: an open invitation to do what he wants with me . He scoops me up in his arm and carries me into my bedroom. Thank God I cleaned up this morning, otherwise he’d be tripping over shoes and assorted electronics. He reaches the edge of my bed and lays me down on my back . I reach my arms up to him. “Don’t make me wait .” He props himself on top of me and kisses me slowly and luxuriously, prompting fresh heat between my legs. I can’t believe how horny I still am after such an amazing orgasm. It’s like there’s a never-ending supply of electrical energy down there . After some long, loving moments of kissing, Chance whispers: “We’ve been there and done this. Let’s try something new .” My stomach flutters at the thought of what will

come next. He moves his mouth first to my neck, then down to my breasts, all the while positioning himself over top of me. Then he moves lower, kissing my belly with a dart of his tongue, then down to my navel . Oh God, the anticipation almost makes me pass out . My hands instinctively go to his hair as his shoulders drop under my thighs and lift them up off the bed. Finally his lips touch my outer entrance and a deep moan escapes me. Soon his tongue is working its way through my crevice, slowly but urgently, with a force that makes me squirm . Then it finds my clit and my fingers wrestle grip his hair and pull involuntarily . “OhyesohyesohyesOHYES,” I babble as the waves crash over me again, this time so powerful that my hips buck and slam against the force of his tongue. How can something so small be so strong ? My hands leave his hair and find his hands. Our fingers twine together as I struggle to get my breathing under control. Chance takes a moment to look up at me from between my legs. The image of his face there, in my most secret of places, is so powerful it almost triggers another orgasm just on

its own . I’ve waited for this moment for so long, I can’t believe it’s finally here. With Chance . I take his face in my hands and pull him upwards . “I want to do it to you now,” I pant. “I want to make you feel like you made me feel .” He gets to his knees and I plant myself on all fours, so that I’m looking directly at his long, hard shaft. It feels so good in my hand that I just want to hold onto it forever. But part of me is insatiably curious to find out how it feels somewhere else . I hold my breath for a moment, waiting for the familiar shouts in my mind. I’ve never been this close to anyone’s manhood before – if the voices are going to return, now will be the time . Nothing. There’s nothing to stop me anymore. I’m free . His eyes close and a groan escapes his lips as I take the tip into my mouth and slide my tongue around it. My hands take hold of his buttocks as I move further down, taking more into me . He takes my hand gently and moves it back to the

base of his cock. He must like both sensations at the same time. I’m happy to oblige . “Good, Sara,” he moans. “That’s so good .” As my mouth works the top, my hand tugs the base, until Chance’s hips start to move in synch with the pleasure. I always wondered what it would be like to be so close to Chance, to know every inch of him like this. Now I know: it’s heaven . After an eternity of this bliss, Chance finally pulls back gently and takes himself out of my mouth. He kneels next to me and kisses me slowly and deeply . “I’ll be right back,” he whispers. “Don’t move .” I lie back on my pillow, stroking my belly with my fingernails and savoring the anticipation. A moment later, he’s back, ripping open a small square with his teeth. He pulls the condom free and moves it toward his cock . “Let me,” I say, taking his hand. “Please. I should learn .” He smiles. “Please do .” I grasp his shaft and position the condom at the tip, rolling it down the rest of him with my other hand.

He’s long and thick, and the latex stretches over it like a second skin . “That’s perfect,” he moans . “I think I’m ready,” I say, opening my legs wide. “What should I do ?” “Just keep doing what you’re doing,” he says as he kneels between my legs. “We’ll have to take it nice and easy .” I gasp as the tip slides against my outer opening and presses against my clit. The pressure and the pleasure combine, so that my whole world becomes a sensation . “Easy,” he breathes. “Easy .” “I’m ready,” I say, biting my bottom lip . Chance moves his hips and the sensation is suddenly sharp. I gasp and grip his shoulders tightly as he slides the shaft in. Finally, he fills me all the way . “Are you okay ?” “I’m fine,” I sigh. “I’m more than fine .” My hips tremble as he pulls out, then slides back in.

Each stroke becomes easier, until we establish a rhythm, moving our hips in time with each other . This is what everyone is always talking about. No wonder every rock song ever is about it . “Sara,” he moans. “Oh, Sara. Finally .” “I’ve wanted you inside me for so long,” I say. “It’s so good. Sooo good .” Talking seems to have stoked our passion even more. Chance speeds up his strokes, going a bit deeper with each one. I respond with my own movements, driving my hips upwards to feel every last inch of him . Our breath mingles as the pleasure mounts. His face is next to mine, my arms are around his neck, pulling him to me so that we can be as together as two people can be. Finally the pleasure becomes unbearable and I have to let go of everything . “I can’t hold back anymore,” he pants. “I can’t – ” “Come, baby,” I whisper. “Finally. After all these years, come .” His entire body tenses like a steel spring beneath my fingers as I wrap my legs around him and ride

the wave. Endless moments of ecstasy carry me higher and higher, my mind only aware of my body and his, until we can’t take anymore and we both collapse on the bed, exhausted . We lay there, limbs tangled, sweat drying against each other’s skin, our breath slowly going back to normal. The feeling of satisfaction and closeness is so intense, I fear that moving will somehow break the spell . Finally Chance leans into my ear and whispers: “How do you feel ?” I smile. “Like I’ve been getting royally ripped off for a very, very long time .”

Chapter One Hundred Nine 3 5. CHANCE This wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It was supposed to feel like a victory, like my plan was working. Like I was winning, somehow . But that’s not what this was . It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever felt. Sex with other women has always been just fun, something you did to finish a date, or because you felt the itch down there. You enjoy it and then you fall asleep . Now lying here, gazing into Sara’s deep blue eyes, sleep is the last thing I want . “So how do you feel?” she asks . I hesitate a moment. What should I say ? How about the truth? my conscience tells me . “I feel like I ordered a Christmas gift fifteen years ago and it finally got delivered,” I say. “The best

surprise of my life .” She grins. “I’m a Christmas present ?” The image of her with a big red bow wrapped around her hips pops into my mind’s eye, and my cock twitches a bit . “That’s what it felt like,” I smile back . “Imagine what it was like for me . To have my first time be so… so mind-blowing. Incredible. Unbelievable. A dozen other adjectives I can’t think of right now. It’s like finally trying ice cream and thinking ‘oohh! Now I get what everyone’s talking about !’” I chuckle. “You’re a Christmas present and I’m ice cream. What flavor ?” She leans in and nibbles my earlobe . “Tiger,” she purrs. “Definitely tiger .” Aaand I’m hard again. Luckily I always carry a second Trojan. We Marines have to be ready for action at all times .

Chapter One Hundred Ten 3 6. SARA My mind is reeling as we lie here, panting, all over again . How could it possibly have been better than the first time? No voices this time. No pain, only pleasure. Endless, limitless pleasure, for what seemed like forever. Is it like this for everyone ? I open my mouth to say something and all that comes out is a deep sigh . Chance grins. “Yeah, I was able to last a little longer this time .” “Uh-huh,” I gurgle . My brain is having trouble holding onto coherent thoughts, but the one that keeps buzzing back again and again is how angry I am at my mother . Not exactly what you want to be thinking about at a moment like this, I know. But I can’t help feeling

a deep resentment. She stole this from me for so long. She stole Chance from me. I know she was sick, but right now, I’m going to let myself feel this for a little while . I finally manage to pull myself together enough to form actual words . “Is it always like that?” I ask . “No,” he says immediately. “I mean… yeah, this was pretty great. You know, for your first time and all .” I give his six-pack a playful backhand . “Careful with the flattery, I’ll get a swelled head,” I say . He rolls onto his side so that he’s looking down at me . “It was amazing,” he says. “Really .” “Yeah, it was. Can we do it again ?” His winces. “I don’t have any more condoms .” I pout my lips out like Marilyn Monroe . “Maybe we could do something that doesn’t need

one,” he says . “That’s better,” I grin. “I’ve got a lot of catching up to do .” “Are you sure you’re really okay about it? No lingering guilt or anything ?” “None,” I say simply. “But I don’t know if I would have been able to do this with anyone other than you .” Whoa, Sara. What was that? You sleep with a guy once – well, twice – and you’re telling him he’s the only man who could have taken your cherry? Way to make him dash out the front door ! Except he’s still there, looking at me. He didn’t move an inch . “I’m glad it was me,” he says. “I know that sounds selfish, but I don’t care .” Now I don’t know what to think. I just want to lie here and sleep in his arms, and then wake up and make him breakfast. Does every girl feel like this about her first? Am I moving too fast because of tonight? Or is it because it’s Chance ? God help me, am I falling in love ?

Did I ever even fall out of it ?

Chapter One Hundred Eleven 3 7. CHANCE For someone who’s just getting started on all this stuff, Sara could challenge the final exam and ace it . One hand soaps my back with her loofah sponge as the other strokes my hard shaft. My hands are propped against the shower wall to keep me from falling on my ass . “I should go on the pill,” she says matter-of-factly . “Uh,” I moan. “Sure. Okay. I mean, if you want .” “Every woman I know is on it. Except Grace, of course. She has the same hang-ups as I have.” She grips my cock tighter. “Had , I mean .” “Uh-huh,” I say as my hips respond to her strokes . “Am I going too fast ?” “No, it’s perfect,” I sigh .

“I mean… with us? Talking about birth control? With… everything ?” “No,” I say without thinking. “It’s great .” Is it? I know that soon I have to start thinking about what we’re doing. In spite of everything, Sara still works for my enemy, and everything I’ve worked so hard to build is on the line . But all I know right at this moment is that I never want this to end . “I just don’t want to go too fast,” she says. “I mean, we’re just starting over… at least, I think we are. Are we ?” I slide my cock out of her hand and turn to face her. The water sluices over my shoulders as she looks at me, eyes wide. The naked hope there hits me straight in the heart . “You mean is this a one-time thing?” I say. “No. Not by a long shot .” She smiles. How could I ever have thought of this as a conquest? It’s so much more . Suddenly, Tre’s voice is in my head: It’s different because it’s Sara. You can’t think strategically in

that situation . I push the thought away and pull her closer, planting a kiss on those soft, full lips. She responds by taking the tip of my cock and gliding it around the entrance to her opening. Soon the two of us are bucking our hips again, holding onto each other to keep both of us from slipping and cracking our skulls . As the explosion becomes inevitable, I grab her hips in my hands and lean back against the shower wall. We both tremble and shake with the ecstasy and the effort of holding ourselves up. Finally, the heat of the shower and between our bodies melds into a cloud of steam that makes me feel like we’re floating together in a cloud . “God, I could get used to this,” she pants . So could I. And that could end up being the fatal flaw in my plan .

Chapter One Hundred Twelve 3 8. CHANCE “I thought I told you to take today off,” I say as Tre zombie-walks his way into my office. He looks like he’s been dragged through a knothole backwards, as Sully used to say . “Can’t,” he mutters. “Company’s at stake .” “I don’t think one day is going to make much of a difference either way,” I say. “Besides, you’re not going to be much use in this state .” He lowers himself slowly into a chair. I notice he’s actually not wearing a tie today, for the first time ever, and I grin . “I’m better now than you would be on your best day,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “How did it go last night? According to plan ?” “Absolutely,” I lie . “All right. Do you think it’s going to make any

difference ?” “I don’t know.” That much is the truth . He sighs. “At the risk of sounding insubordinate, Chance, we need to get a handle on this thing. I’d be much happier if there was something more solid to hold onto than you getting Sara into bed .” This is the real reason I didn’t want Tre here today. I don’t need him adding to my frustration and confusion . “Look,” I say. “You just need to trust me on this .” “You’ve been saying that for a while now, dude. And I do trust you. But you have to remember, I don’t have stock in Atlas. If the Sullivans sell, you have the option of selling and retiring rich .” I glare at him. “It’s not that simple, and you know it .” “All right, all right,” he says, nodding gingerly. “But whatever happens, you’re still rich. You’ve been pulling in big money for years now. I, on the other hand, will be out job hunting the day after the sale .” “I know that,” I say, more sharply than I intended.

“Why do you think I’m working so hard to keep it from happening ?” “That’s just it. Are you working hard? Or are you just trying to sleep with Sara? Because, with all due respect, I’m not seeing a lot of results from that .” “Look, Tre, with all due respect, I’m the boss here. And that means I’m juggling a lot of different balls right now. I need your help if I’m going to pull it off .” He leans forward on the sofa and props his elbows on his knees . “Then let me in on the whole plan,” he says. “Let me help you. That’s what I’m here for .” I sigh. He’s right. There are a lot of wheels spinning inside other wheels here, and I do need him. But I’m just not sure he’s up for what I need him to do. Or whether I can trust him to pull it off. Too many questions without answers . “All right,” I say. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you .”

Chapter One Hundred Thirteen 3 9. SARA I’ve barely been able to focus on work this morning, and now Chance wants to see me in his office. Like that’s going to help me get anything done . Still, maybe we could do a little… dictation while I’m there . Jesus, girl, snap out of it! It’s barely been twelve hours since Chance popped your cherry and you’re already running over porno scenarios in your mind. Settle down ! I smile at Karen as I approach the foyer of his office . “Hi, Sara,” she smiles back. “He’s just in with Tre right now. I’m sure he won’t be long .” I can’t help but flash back to this same scene at Quentin Pearce’s office yesterday and marvel at the difference: that was like waiting for a root

canal. This is like waiting for Christmas . Thinking about that day reminds me of the conversation I eavesdropped on. What the hell was he on about? I can only assume he was talking to whoever he has lined up to buy Atlas if he manages to take it over. But who was it ? And why was their relationship so antagonistic? Maybe it’s just the fact Quentin just brings the worst out of people. But maybe there’s more to it … Suddenly the door to Chance’s office slams open and Tre comes stalking out. He looks terrible – well, as terrible as he could possibly look, anyway . “You’re out of your fucking mind, man,” he barks as he passes Karen’s desk. “Count me out .” Just then he notices I’m there. Then he turns to Karen and shakes his head . “My apologies, ladies. That wasn’t meant for your ears .” Karen smiles. “I’ll expect a bonus on my next check,” she giggles . He turns to me. “I’m also sorry about last night,” he

says sheepishly. “I don’t usually go overboard like that .” “Grace has that effect on people sometimes,” I grin, laying a hand on his arm. “I’ve been on the receiving end myself a time or twelve. She loved seeing you again .” “I enjoyed seeing her, too,” he says. “Tell her I said that, okay ?” “I will.” I glance into Chance’s office and see the look on his face. “What was that all about ?” Tre glowers and shakes his head. “Nothing you need to worry about. I’ve been dealing with this kind of stuff for years. Let’s just say that sometimes Chance thinks he’s a lot smarter than he really is, and I end up being the one who has to fix things .” Yikes. It’s the first time I’ve seen this side of their relationship since we reconnected. They used to fight occasionally when we were kids, but that’s normal between brothers. A lot of the time, it was because Chance was jealous of what Tre had. Again, pretty normal for a kid in Chance’s circumstances. Even I wished Tre’s mom was my mom once in a while . “Anything I can do to help?” I ask .

He stares at me for a few moments before answering . “Tell him to smarten up,” he says. Then he shakes his head. “No, forget I said that. This doesn’t have anything to do with you .” As I watch him stalk back toward his office, I can’t help but think he was lying to me . Chance motions me into his office. “It’s good to see you,” he says as I shut the door behind me . “You too,” I say. “Everything okay with you and Tre ?” He frowns. “Nothing that I haven’t dealt with before. Sometimes Tre oversteps his authority and forgets that I’m the CEO .” “Hm,” I say . He cocks an eyebrow. “What ?” “Just that you two used to squabble a lot when we were kids, and it usually turned out Tre was right .” “Don’t you start on me, too,” he says, rolling his eyes . He’s right. We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend – are

we? We’re definitely not at the stage where I can start second-guessing him about anything, especially when, technically, he’s letting me actively work against him . God, this is such a crazy situation . “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean anything, and I don’t know anything about this. I know you guys will eventually rise above it, so I’ll keep my mouth shut .” He smiles and takes my arms, pulling me close . “You don’t have to go that far,” he says, parting my lips with his and touching his tongue to the tip of mine . Suddenly my mind is flashing back to dictation fantasies again, and I forget all about Tre .

Chapter One Hundred Fourteen 4 0. INTERLUDE: QUENTIN PEARCE “I hope I wasn’t overstepping my bounds by asking you here personally,” Pearce says, pouring scotch from a crystal decanter into a pair of tumblers on the bar in his office . “I’m being honest, it was a bit of a pain in the nuts,” says the man, sixty-ish with a shock of silver hair swept back from his high brow. His olive skin is in remarkable condition for someone his age . Pearce hands him a glass and motions for him to sit . “Normally I’m happy to follow the chain of command,” he says. “But I’m afraid dealing with your nephew has become, as you say, a pain in the nuts .” The man’s bushy eyebrows rise. “Not a lot of people got the guts to say that to my face .” “I’m not most people,” says Pearce, taking a full

ounce of his scotch in a single gulp. “I don’t measure dicks, I measure profits. If there’s a problem with that, we can certainly part ways amicably .” The older man’s eyes flash, but he keeps his mouth shut. Pearce’s eyes, as usual, are impassive . “No need,” says the man. “I think we know where we stand with each other. From now on, you deal directly with me .” “Excellent,” says Pearce. “I’m sure neither of us wants to lose this opportunity .” The man swallows some scotch and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Pearce curls a lip at the gesture but says nothing . “I still don’t get why you’re so keen on this,” the man says. “I mean, it’s obvious for me. Buying Atlas will make me a shoe-in for a Senate run in 2020. Hell, the vice president himself showed up at the company golf tournament last summer. You can’t buy that kind of influence .” “Obviously you can,” says Pearce. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing this .” The man chuckles. “You got balls,” he says,

nodding. “I like that .” “I’m glad to hear you say that, since we’re going to be working closely for quite a long time .” “How do you figure that ?” “That’s why I’m brokering this sale,” says Pearce. “I have a thousand times more money than even a Kardashian could ever spend. It’s time to move into the next phase of my career .” “Yeah? What’s that ?” “Political strategist .” The man’s eyes widen. Now he’s getting it . Pearce leans forward in his chair and places his empty tumbler on the glass coffee table . “You’re thinking Senate,” he says. “I’m thinking beyond that. And when you get there, you need someone to be your advisor .” The man glares at Pearce for several long moments . “Don’t you think that’s a little presumptuous?” he says .

“More presumptuous than positioning an organized crime figure as the head of the world’s only humanitarian security company ?” “Why, you little fuck – ” Pearce raises a hand. “Spare me. I don’t scare, period. Now, I have someone working on getting enough information to convince Chance Talbot to sell. I’m confident we’ll be in a position to buy without his interference at the end of the thirty days .” The man snarls. “Then why did you call me all the way here ?” “Because I need you to do something for me that’s more in your wheelhouse than in mine, if you get what I’m saying .” “You ask for a lot, you know that ?” “Yes, I do,” says Pearce. “And I deliver a lot. Now if you’d kindly listen to my request. We need this taken care of as quickly as possible .”

Chapter One Hundred Fifteen 4 1. SARA “I’m getting impatient,” Pearce says on the other end of the line. “I hope my faith in you wasn’t misplaced .” I’m in a Starbucks up the block from Atlas’s offices, trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing and wondering how to keep Quentin from firing me and leaving me broke . “I can’t do it all in a week,” I say. “It’s a long process. Interviews, research –” “I could have had anyone do that,” he says impatiently. “You’re supposed to be an investigator, and yet all I hear is praise for the company you’re supposed to be investigating .” My gut clenches at that. I’m starting to really like the people at Atlas, and I’m on the verge of betraying them all right now. But what choice do I have? Chance himself said I had to do what I had to

do . “There is one thing,” I say, lowering my voice and turning toward the wall near my chair. It’s not like the other caffeine addicts are eavesdropping, but I don’t need to take unnecessary chances . “Good,” he says. “What is it ?” “There’s a bit of a gap in the accounting from the early days of the expansion period, when Patrick Sullivan was still the sole owner .” “Details?” “That’s just it: there are none. Atlas started to expand its scope and bring on more and more people. Wages and benefits went up. But I can’t find the source of the capital infusion .” “Hmm. An angel investor at Atlas? Intriguing .” “I wish I had more to give you, but I really need more time to follow up .” Quentin is silent long enough for me to wonder if he hung up and I didn’t notice . “All right,” he says finally. “I’ll expect a follow-up soon .”

Of course you do. This time he actually does hang up . I tuck my phone back into my purse and drain the dregs of my latte before heading back out onto the avenue to the Atlas offices . Why couldn’t I just have run into Chance at a coffee shop and rekindled things that way? Why does there have to be all this ridiculous intrigue around what we’re doing? Everything feels like it’s stuck in a giant web. I don’t know what to think anymore . As I reach the lobby, I see Karen walking out of the building . “Hey, Karen,” I say. “What’s up ?” “I’m taking a break,” she says without her trademark style. “Things are getting a little tense up there .” “Why, what’s going on ?” “Chance and Tre keep staring daggers at each other. It makes me uncomfortable. It’s like having your parents fight in front of you .” God, I know what that’s like .

“I’m sure it’ll blow over,” I soothe. “I’ve known them since we were kids. They always patch things up. They’re as close as any brothers I know .” “I hope you’re right,” she says. “I just want things to go back to the way they were before Quentin Pearce came into our office .” As she walks out onto the street, I find myself wishing the same thing .

Chapter One Hundred Sixteen 4 2. CHANCE “What are we going to do up here?” Sara asks as we climb the stairwell that leads to the roof of the building where Atlas’s offices occupy the seventeenth floor . “I told you, you’ll see when we get there,” I say . “I wish you’d told me about having to take the stairs the last three flights. I would have told you Sara don’t do that shit. Plus, you said you were taking me for dinner .” We finally reach the door to the roof. The stairwell landing is dank up here, with no light except for a bare security bulb . “How do you know I’m not taking you to dinner right now?” I ask . She grins. “Dining al fresco? On the roof ?” I just smile back .

“I’d hate to be the caterer who has to lug all the food up these stairs,” she says, looking back down the way we came. “But I guess the view will be worth it .” “Oh, I definitely think the view will be worth it,” I say as I press the crash bar and push the door open . We step out onto the tar-paper and gravel roof to a 360-degree view of downtown Chicago’s Loop business district. The sun is sitting at about the halfway point in the western sky, about two hours from sunset . “Wow,” she says, scanning the horizon. “This is impressive. But I don’t see a table or anything .” “What we’re looking for is over here,” I say, taking her by the hand . We round the corner of a maintenance outbuilding and her eyes pop as she finally sees what I’m talking about . “Whoa,” she breathes. “Is that …?” “That,” I say, pointing at the pea green behemoth parked on the building’s helipad, “is the company’s specially modified Sikorsky HH-60 Pave Hawk

helicopter .” We walk closer and Sara looks like a kid at an air show, inspecting the big bird from all angles . “These are what the military used for search and rescue during Katrina in 2005,” I say. “They’re specifically designed to get people out of tight spaces under challenging conditions .” She turns to me. “Challenging conditions?” she asks. “Does that mean what I think it means ?” “Live fire,” I nod, patting the armored door. “This baby has seen some of the roughest places in the world. But she always gets us back out again .” Sara’s big blues are practically glowing. “This is so cool,” she says . “I was hoping you’d like it,” I grin . “So do you think you could take the boss into letting me ride in it sometime?” she asks, taking my hand . “Why do you think I brought you up here?” I open the pilot’s side door and pull out a helmet. “We’re going to dinner .”

Her jaw drops. “You can fly this thing ?” “I’ve learned how to do a lot of things over the years .” She gives me a leering grin. “One thing at a time, Tiger .” *** “T hat’s it right there,” I say into the helmet microphone . “What?” she shouts over the din of the Sikorsky’s rotors . I point through the windscreen at the beach of the resort town of Grand Haven below us on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. It’s a favorite of the Chicago yachting folks, who use it as an excuse to cruise across the lake. Or, in my case, an excuse to show off my helicopter . “Grand Haven,” I say, a little louder. “Dinner .” She smiles and gives me the thumbs-up . A few minutes later and we’re descending onto a landing pad at the Coast Guard’s sector field office .

A woman in a Coast Guard uniform opens the door for Sara and helps her out of the Sikorsky as it powers down. I meet them a few feet from the chopper . “We have a car waiting for you, ma’am,” the woman shouts over the whine of the engine . Sara gapes at me. “A car ?” I shrug. “I called in a couple of favors .” “Mr. Talbot is being modest, ma’am,” says the woman, a lieutenant named Gloria whom I’ve met a few times. “Atlas has been a great friend to the Coast Guard .” A white Ford Expedition pulls up and the driver gets out to open the door for Sara. I climb in the other side . “Anything else you feel like impressing me with tonight?” she asks as we pull away . “Wait till you see what we’re having for dinner,” I say with a grin . *** “O of,” Sara breathes as she finally pushes her

plate away from her . I do a slow clap. “That was impressive .” “Why did you bring me here?” she groans. “That burger had to have been 5,000 calories .” “Don’t forget the sweet potato fries,” I remind her, wiping the last of the grease from my lips. “Easily another thousand .” “Burpees,” she sobs. “Kelsey’s going to have me do a burpee for every calorie, I know it. I hate burpees .” “Good thing you didn’t enlist, then. Burpees are what you do to celebrate that the workout is over .” She sticks her tongue out at me, and I feel an obscene throb under my jeans . Across the lake, the sun is setting in a riot of orange and indigo. Our table is on the beachside patio of Banana Cabana, a summer-only burger shack that I discovered a few years ago. It’s been a mainstay for locals and summer tourists since it opened in the ‘80s . “I can’t blame you,” Sara sighs. “You can lead a horse to burger, but you can’t make her snarf it

down like a pig at the trough. That was all me .” “You loved it,” I say . “Is it sick to admit I want to get one to take home with me?” she asks in a conspiratorial whisper . “No sicker than the fact I flew a helicopter to bring us here .” “That was pretty decadent .” “What can I say? I had a girl to impress .” She grins. “Mission accomplished, soldier .” We sit silently for a while, watching the sunset and slurping the last of our Diet Cokes through our straws. Sara was right – it was pretty decadent to bring the Sikorsky for a date . But something about being with her makes me want to show off like a peacock. It’s like I didn’t even realize I was rich until she came back into my life. All of a sudden, I’m like a kid showing his friend his toy room: I got this and this, and one of these, and my X-Box … Sara leans in closer . “How fast does that chopper go?” she asks .

“About 195 knots,” I say. “Works out to 200-plus miles per hour. Why ?” “I’m just wondering how fast you can get me back home. I need to work off that burger, and like I said, I hate burpees .” The look in her eyes has me standing at full attention under my jeans now . I reach down and pull her from her seat with one hand, tossing a hundred onto the table with the other. We practically jog across the parking lot to the waiting Expedition and our Coast Guard driver .

Chapter One Hundred Seventeen 4 3. SARA “That was so much more fun than burpees,” I pant . Chance nods. “Probably burned more calories, too .” I look around his bedroom and see the clothes piled in random spots where they landed after we flung them when we got here. A night breeze is lifting the sheer curtains over the window next to the bed, helping to cool the aftermath of our passion . He reaches an arm around me and pulls me close. We lay like that silently for a while. Tonight has been probably the most incredible night of my life . So why can’t I get Quentin Pearce out of my head ? “Everything okay?” Chance asks . I come this close to just saying yes before I stop myself. Not being honest with him was what led to me losing him all those years ago. Now I have a

second chance. And no, the irony isn’t lost on me . “There’s something I really should talk to you about,” I say gingerly. “But I don’t know how to do it .” He sits up, eyes wide. I can read his mind in that gesture . “I’m not pregnant, dummy.” I give him a playful smack as he exhales heavily . “Okay,” he says. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, anything you have to tell me will be a piece of cake .” “Even if it’s about Quentin?” I ask . He sighs. “I suppose. Why, what’s up ?” “He called me yesterday demanding an update .” “That’s fine,” he shrugs, lying down again. “Like I said, don’t worry about doing your job. I’m good with it .” “I had to give him something, so I told him about the only thing I’ve found that might be a red flag .” “What’s that ?”

I take a deep breath. We’re wading into uncharted waters here . “That there’s no real accounting of where the capital came from during Atlas’s expansion phase a few years ago .” Chance’s body tenses next to mine. He’s silent long enough for me to start worrying . “What did Pearce have to say about that?” he asks finally . “He assumed it was an angel investor. But there’s no ownership equity that I can find. Unless it was one of the Sullivans, of course .” Silence again . “Chance, I don’t care what Pearce thinks. I know everything is aboveboard at Atlas. And if he has a problem with the truth, he can go fuck himself. I’m not going to make things up to help him steal your company, no matter how much he offers .” He rolls over to face me. The intensity in his gaze gives me goosebumps. Please don’t tell me everything is going to come crashing down again over this. Please .

“Do you trust me, Sara ?” That’s not what I expected. “Of course,” I say . “Thank you. That means a lot to me. Now I have to ask if I can trust you not to tell Pearce what I’m about to tell you .” “Off the record,” I say, pretending to lock my lips with a key. “Journalism grad, remember ?” “I just don’t want to put you in a conflict of interest .” I shake my head. “Like I said, the longer this goes on, the more I think Quentin Pearce’s interests can spin on my middle finger .” I wasn’t trying to be funny, but Chance chuckles anyway . “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he says. “Would you mind taking your phone out of your purse ?” I raise an eyebrow but do as I’m told and hand it to him . “What are you doing?” I ask as he fiddles with it . “Taking you off the grid.” His fingers emerge with

the phone’s SIM card and place it on the nightstand. “You can’t be too careful with a guy like Pearce. I want to eliminate the possibility of eavesdropping .” I wish I could say he was being paranoid, but after overhearing Quentin’s conversation at his office, I really can’t . “Okay,” he says, looking me in the eye. “Here’s the truth: you’re right, the angel investor was one of the Sullivans. In fact, it was Sully himself .” I snap my fingers. “I knew it! Pearce can suck it. But wait, where did he get the money ?” “That’s what we need to talk about. And it’s all as off the record as you can get .”

Chapter One Hundred Eighteen 4 4. CHANCE “You asked about my scars that first night together,” I say. “Remember ?” Sara nods . “I got those particular ones on a night with Sully in Mosul. This was back in the aftermath of a round of terror attacks on Assyrian Christians .” She nods again. “I remember seeing that on the news .” “Sully and Atlas had been involved with getting Christians out of the city the year before, during the first wave of attacks. That was when I first started doing work for him on my leave. This time, there were rumors that the terrorists behind the attacks were organizing something major . “One night, Sully came to me with some intel he’d gotten from a local: there was a financier from Qatar meeting with the group to pass along money

to up their game. We tracked down their headquarters a few miles from the city and the two of us went in alone .” Sara’s eyes are saucers. “My God,” she breathes. “That’s …” “Insane?” I say. “Yeah. Looking back, it was far and away the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. But I was cocky back then, and so was Sully. So anyway, we bust into the place, guns drawn, to find eight Iraqis in their jihadi best and one guy in a suit. Our man from Jordan . “We got the drop on them, so when they drew on us, it was a foregone conclusion. The guy in the suit wasn’t armed, so we left him alive. We were going to take him to a CIA contact of Sully’s for interrogation .” Again, Sara goggles. “CIA ties? Holy shit, Chance .” “I know,” I say, grinning in spite of myself. “Went from shoplifting Zagnuts at the Bi-Rite to rubbing elbows with spooks. Hard to believe, huh ?” She nods. “Go on .” “I kept my gun on the Jordanian as Sully checked

the trunk he’d brought. It was stuffed with hundred-dollar US bills, $16 million in total. As he was looking at the cash, I saw something taped to the inside of the trunk’s lid. It was an IED – improvised explosive device . “I was off guard for just a second, but that was enough for our new friend to dash forward and grab the IED. I only had a moment to react – I threw Sully behind me and tackled the guy. I managed to climb over the trunk and toss him through a boarded-up window. Momentum carried me through with him. The IED went off when he landed .” She winces and points at my chest. “And that happened .” I grin. “You should’ve seen the other guy. Anyway, I came to in an Army hospital with Sully by my bedside. There was a colonel next to him, waiting to ask me questions. ‘I told him that we took care of the terror cell,’ Sully says. 'Got anything to add ?’ “I knew Sully well enough by then to know he was telling me to go along. I backed him up, and no one was the wiser about the cash. He stashed it in an Atlas tent for a few months before smuggling it into the States the next time we rotated home .”

Sara sits in silence for a long time. It’s a lot to process, I know. I lived it and even I have a hard time believing it actually happened to me instead of Matt Damon in some movie . The quiet is just starting to make me nervous when she finally speaks . “So the expansion was funded by terror money,” she says . I nod. “We laundered it through some shell corporations first, but yeah .” “Why bother with the company?” she asks, ever the investigator. “Why not just retire rich ?” “You had to know Sully. He saw a lot in Iraq, especially during those attacks in Mosul. Those people weren’t fighters, they were just ordinary folks trying to live their lives. And they were slaughtered. That’s what sparked the change in focus for Atlas .” “And you went along with it ?” “Yeah,” I say. “I thought it was the right thing to do. I still do to this day .” There it is – it’s out there. The question is how will

she feel about it? What we did was highly illegal, but as far as I’m concerned, everything Atlas has accomplished since then was worth it and more . But will she ? Either we’ve just gotten a lot closer to each other, or I’ve handed her exactly what Pearce needs to ruin me . “Who else knows about this?” she asks . “Including you and me? Nobody .” She blinks. “Really? Not even Tre ?” “Tre has always given me a nod and a wink when it comes to anything that might be on the fringes of the law. And he didn’t become president until after the money was in place .” “So this is how you ended up inheriting Sully’s share of the company,” she says. “It wasn’t just that you shared his vision. You were literally the only one he could trust with Atlas .” I nod. “Desmond – he was the guy who spoke at the board meeting that day – wasn’t overjoyed that Sully had skipped over his own son to give control to me. But he also realized he didn’t have the experience to run Atlas .”

“Terrorists funded the world’s first and only humanitarian security company,” she says . “That’s the long and short of it, yeah .” She stares into my eyes for a long moment before taking my head in her hands and laying a soft kiss on my lips . “I always knew you’d make it big,” she says. “But I never realized you were a genius .”

Chapter One Hundred Nineteen 4 5. SARA The expression on Quentin Pearce’s face is passive, but his eyes are blazing. I’ve never actually been scared of him until now – intimidated, sure, but not flat-out afraid like this . “I don’t have time for this,” he says coldly. “Get back to work .” “I meant what I said,” I say defiantly. “I’m done .” He stares at me for a moment before starting to pace his office. It makes him look like a panther in a cage . “Let me guess,” he says finally. “You and Chance Talbot are sleeping together .” My gut cramps as I realize he’s even smarter than I thought. Could he have possibly been listening in on my phone the whole time? No, that’s outlandish .

Isn’t it ? “My reasons are my own,” I say . “It’s either that or he’s tried to co-opt you by offering you a job .” Whoa. Thanks for the excuse, Quentin. I couldn’t have come up with a better one myself. I fake a flinch to make him think he’s hit it on the head . “It doesn’t matter,” I say. “What matters is that our contract is done. We agreed on $5,000 a day. It’s been fourteen days. You owe me $70,000 .” “You won’t get a penny,” he says acidly. “Can you afford that ?” I can’t, and I knew it was a long shot, but I had to try . “We’re done here,” I say with a sardonic smile. “It’s been a slice .” I turn to walk to the door when he says: “Not so fast .” Shit. I almost made it. Should have known he’d never let this go that easy . “If Talbot thinks he’s won, he’s deluded. I told you

before that I’ve heard rumors about Atlas. About him. Blackmail. War profiteering .” I turn to face him again. This time, I meet his glare with my own . “Good for you,” I say. “Have fun dishing about it with your coffee klatch .” “Your abrupt resignation, especially in light of our conversation the other day, only serves to confirm that I was right. The missing investor is the key. All I need is evidence .” Oh, fuck. I never thought of that. Neither did Chance . “You’re the one who’s deluded,” I say, trying to sound cool. “Leaving this job has nothing to do with Chance Talbot and everything to do with you. Working with you makes me constantly feel like I need a shower. You leave a slime trail behind you like a slug .” His eyes flash again and he crosses the room to where I’m standing. I hold my ground, until he’s well inside my personal space. It’s an intimidation tactic that won’t work on me . “You’re quite pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

he says. “I can’t help but wonder if Talbot will still have a job for you when you’re on the witness stand, testifying against him .” My heart sinks, but I keep it off my face. I hope . “What the hell are you talking about ?” “A few calls to the right people will be enough to have the Department of Defense in Talbot’s office within a week,” he says. “At the very least, they’ll have a lot of difficult questions about their contracts with Atlas. They’re the company’s top client, after all .” My eyes narrow. “What good will that do? You’d put the company you want to buy out of business ?” “Not out of business. Under new management. The DoD need only bring you in for a deposition to get enough evidence to call in the FBI. The Sullivans won’t be able to sell fast enough. I might even be able to lower my initial offer as well .” Oh, shit. Shit shitshitshit shit . Keep your mouth shut, Sara. Just walk out . “Judging by your silence, I’ve struck a nerve,” he

says. “So let me prove to you that I’m not the slug you think I am. I’ll give you a way out of the situation .” I reach the door to his office. Every fiber in me wants to just turn the knob and walk out. But I can’t . “Go ahead and tell me,” I say without turning around. “I know you’re dying to .” “Talbot can have a change of heart and recommend that the Sullivans take my new, smaller offer. Of course, he’ll have to sell his shares, as well. Atlas will belong to Empire, lock, stock and barrel .” Some choice. The devil or the deep blue sea . I walk out without saying another word. As I cross the threshold, I hear Pearce’s parting shot . “Don’t make me go to court, Sara,” he says. “Believe it or not, I’d rather not ruin your life if I don’t have to .”

Chapter One Hundred Twenty 4 6. CHANCE “You should have punched him,” I growl . “Believe me, I wanted to,” Sara says as she pours a vodka from the bar in my office. “But he’s the kind of guy who’d sue you for looking at him wrong. And knowing him, the fucker would win .” I’m propped against the corner of my desk, brooding. Pearce is a hell of an opponent. I’ve got wheels within wheels, but so does he . “One thing’s for sure,” I say. “Once the Sullivans hear about this, there’s no way they’ll sell .” Sara gives me a stricken look . “You don’t get it, Chance,” she says. “We’re in deep trouble here, all because of me .” I reach out and take her free hand. “I’m not scared of Quentin Pearce .”

“It’s not him you need to be scared of,” she says. “It’s me .” “What are you talking about ?” “If I get called for a deposition, or worse, if I get called as a witness in a trial, I’m compelled by law to tell them what you told me last night .” My heart skips a beat. Jesus, she’s right. Suddenly those wheels within wheels are skidding off the tracks . “Shit,” I say . “Shit is right. If I were to lie and the evidence ever came to light, I’d be charged with perjury .” “I’m sorry, Sara.” It’s all I can think of to say . She squeezes my hand. “It’s not your fault. It’s this fucked up situation. I don’t know how the hell we’re going to get out of it. Pearce is going to force an investigation, and he’ll use me against you .” I shake my head. “That’s not in his best interests. He’s hoping his threat will be enough to drive me out and push the sale through. He doesn’t want anything to happen that will throw a wrench into his plans .”

“But you can’t lose Atlas,” she says. “I don’t know exactly what he’s up to, but I can tell you this much: putting Atlas into Pearce’s hands would be a disaster .” “Agreed,” I nod. “I guarantee he’s flipping it for someone who wants the company’s good will and reputation. I just don’t know who or why .” Sara finishes her vodka and puts the glass back down in the bar before wrapping her arms around herself . “I don’t want you to have to sell out,” she says. “But I definitely don’t want to be used as a weapon against you. The situation is impossible .” Come on, Chance. You’re strategic. You think around corners. You can’t let Pearce get the better of you, on sheer principle alone. You didn’t survive on the streets and then Iraq just to have a little pissant like him put you on your knees . Wait a minute – on my knees … Sara tangles her fingers in her auburn hair and tugs in frustration. “Argh!” she hollers, her eyes squeezed shut. “There has to be a way !” “Sara,” I say .

“Why can’t I think? I’m better than this! There has to be a solution !” “Sara.” More firmly this time . She opens her eyes and looks in my direction. It takes her a moment to realize I’m not at eye-level anymore . I’m down on one knee on the floor . “Sara Bishop,” I say, taking her hand. “Would you do me the honor of being my wife ?”

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One 4 7. SARA My heart can start again any time now . Aannyyy time now … “It only makes sense,” Chance says from his place on the floor. “A person can’t be forced to testify against a spouse. It takes you off the board as a chess piece, and it gives us time to come up with a new strategy against Pearce .” “Uh-huh,” I mutter, blinking . “Are you okay ?” You mean other than being proposed to as a legal maneuver by the boy you used to love and the man you just recently rekindled your relationship with ? “Uh, yeah,” I say. “Fine. That, uh. That makes sense. I guess .” “Is that a yes ?”

I nod stupidly. “Yes, it’s a yes .” “We should get it done as quickly as possible,” he says, glancing at his watch . “You mean today ?” “No time like the present. Is that okay ?” “Yeah,” I say with a shrug. “Let’s do it .” I actually feel dizzy, my heart is racing so fast. I’m not one of those girls who sat around fantasizing about a dream wedding – hell, I never actually thought I’d ever get married, period. Now I have a guy tapping his watch and saying tick-tock, Sara . Chance must see all this on my face because he takes me by the shoulders . “Look, Sara, I know this is another rung on the crazy ladder. It’s just as nuts for me as it is for you. But the last thing I want to see is you in an impossible situation .” I nod. “And I don’t want you to lose everything you’ve worked for .” “And time really is of the essence .” I take a deep breath, exhale. “Okay,” I say. “Next

stop, the courthouse and the justice of the peace .” He takes my hand and leads me to the office door. Karen perks up as we step out and pass her desk . “Where are you two off to?” she chirps . “We’re getting married,” Chance says distractedly . As we disappear into the hall, I hear Karen mutter: “Fine, don’t tell me, then .”

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two 4 8. CHANCE “I’m sorry,” the woman behind the counter says with an insincere smile. “It’s a one-day wait for a marriage license in Cook County .” “We really are in a hurry,” Sara pleads. “Is there any way to do a rush order ?” She gives us a sidelong look. “I’m afraid not .” I tug my wallet out of my back pocket and discreetly remove five photos of Benjamin Franklin . “You’re sure about that?” I ask . The woman’s eyes narrow and she leans closer to the counter. “How do I know you’re not an inspector trying to pull some sort of sting?” she hisses . My hand produces a fob from my pocket and sets it on top of the bills .

“Do you know many civil servants who drive Bugattis ?” Her eyes widen and she snaps up the cash. “Let me see what I can do .” *** T he justice of the peace is an elderly woman with a severe hearing problem, I guess that’s what you can expect at two in the afternoon on a Tuesday . “You have the rings?” she asks as she flips through some paperwork . Sara reaches into her purse and brings out the rings we bought on the way to the courthouse. We didn’t have time to shop; I just bought the most expensive ones in the store . The old lady’s eyes pop behind her oversized glasses as she sees them . “Heavens,” she says. “Someone’s been saving up .” Sara smiles. “He stole $16 million,” she says . My heart thumps in my chest as the justice titters and Sara sticks her tongue out at me . “Oh, you,” the old lady says. Then she leans in to

Sara. “Nice catch, dear .” She goes back to riffling through pages. “Which ceremony would you like?” she asks . “Whatever’s shortest,” I say . She frowns. “Well, that’s not very romantic,” she admonishes . Sara holds up the ring again. “This makes up for it .” “Young people these days,” the old lady sighs . *** “I , Chance, take thee, Sara, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health …” My mouth makes the words as I hear them, but I’m not really paying attention. I wonder if Sara would be surprised at how many times I fell asleep to this fantasy . Well, not this fantasy, obviously. But to us getting married . I gaze into her eyes as she says her own vows back to me. I always thought we’d write our own, and talk about everything we’d overcome together. Talk

about how much we owed each other. These words are too banal to capture what we felt . What we could feel again. Maybe . “With this ring, I thee wed,” she says, sliding the platinum band down the third finger of my left hand . The old lady grins. “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” she says. “You may kiss the –” But I’m already there, my lips on hers, my arms around her waist. Her arms close around my neck and hold me in place . “Good heavens,” the justice mutters. “Get a room .” “We plan to,” Sara says as our lips part. “As soon as possible .”

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Three 4 9. SARA “This suite has two living rooms,” I marvel as we step into the place . The Sapphire is a downtown luxury boutique hotel that doesn’t have a designated honeymoon suite per se, but the Presidential Suite will do in a pinch. It’s 2,000 square feet of over-the-top luxury, and about ten times the size of the rec center storeroom . Smells better, too . “I’m just glad it wasn’t booked tonight,” Chance says, tossing his keys in a ceramic dish on the side table. “I’d like to make up for this crazy last-minute wedding somehow. This is a start .” “A start?” I say. “This place is bigger than the block I grew up on .” He grins. “Should I order up some champagne and what-not ?”

“Tell you what,” I say, gripping the collar of his shirt. “You take care of the champagne. I’ll take care of the what-not .” His eyes bulge as I slink toward the bedroom . “Don’t get lost on the way,” I say. “This place is huge .” By the time he arrives, I’m naked under the bubbles in the oversized pedestal tub that occupies a corner of the bedroom . “What took you so long?” I ask, stretching out a leg to give him a good, long look . “Just had to take care of a couple of things,” he says, wasting no time in pulling off his shirt . “I think you should be taking care of your wife, don’t you ?” “Yes,” he says. “Yes, I do .” He stumbles trying to yank off the rest of his clothes at once. I giggle as he picks himself off the floor, finally naked, and joins me in the tub . “My wife,” he says softly as he sits down. “Wow .” “Yeah,” I say. “Wow .”

Part of me wants to stop this right now and have a long talk about where we’re going. What happens after the end of the month? If the sale goes through? If it doesn’t go through and we beat Pearce’s ass? Where are we going to be in two weeks ? The rest of me tells that part to shut the hell up as I reach under the bubbles and grab Chance’s cock . “I heard a joke once,” I say, stroking . “Wh-what’s that?” he sighs . “Why are brides always smiling as they walk down the aisle ?” “I,” he moans. “Don’t know. Wh-why ?” “Because they know they’ve given their last blowjob .” “Huh.” It’s more a grunt than a laugh . “I never really understood it,” I say. “I mean, why would any woman want to give up blowjobs ?” With that, I dunk my head under the water and take him into my mouth. It’s something I’ve always wondered about, and I figure what better time than

my wedding night to try it ? Chance hardens to concrete in an instant as I work up and down on his shaft for a few seconds. I do a lot of cardio, so I like to think I can hold my breath for a respectable amount of time. At least long enough to feel him start pulsing in my mouth . Finally, I can’t keep it up any longer and I surface with a gasp, pulling my hair back from my face and blinking the water out of my eyes . “Well,” I say. “That was fun .” Chance floats toward me and wraps his chiseled arms around me . “Yeah, it was,” he says. “Except I missed your face .” He pulls me in for a sloppy, wet, hungry kiss that’s almost all tongue. Meanwhile, he grabs my thighs and pulls them apart to make way for his powerful hands . “Okay, buddy,” I sigh in his ear. “You’re going to be getting blowjobs from this wife for a while yet .” His fingers go to work on me, and in less than a minute, I’m ready to go. I disengage from him and

stand up, then turn and bend so that I’m propping myself on the edge of the tub . “See anything you like?” I say over my shoulder . Two seconds later and I’m shuddering as the length of Chance’s shaft glides inside me. Thank God I’m holding the tub or I would have fallen right out onto the floor . His hands grab my hips and pull me back to him, slamming me into his hips and making my ass jiggle. It’s like a firecracker is going off deep inside me . “Again,” I say. “Hard .” Another smacking sound, another shudder . “Faster,” I pant . He hesitates. “I have to get a condom .” “I went on the pill after our first time,” I say, pushing back into him and giving myself another jolt. “It’s been seven days. Don’t stop .” Chance takes that as his marching orders, and suddenly he’s driving like a jackhammer. All conscious thought escapes me as pure, unadulterated physical pleasure fills me. It feels

dirty and sexy and oh, so right . “Fuck me, baby,” I moan. “Fuck me as hard as you can .” Suddenly he finds a whole new gear and he’s pistoning against me with abandon. It’s all I can do to hold onto the tub as wave after wave flows over me, making me tremble with pleasure and the effort of staying upright. Finally I have only Chance’s powerful hands on my hips keeping me from falling . “Oh God,” he pants. “God, Sara …” He explodes like a missile inside me as I come, over and over again. My brain has turned to mush – there’s only my body and his, and infinite ecstasy . Finally he lowers me back into the water, then collapses into it himself. We float there for a long time in each other’s arms . “Holy shit,” he says when we finally get our breathing back under control . “Yeah,” I sigh. “If that’s married sex, I’m all for it .” “Champagne should be here by now,” he says .

Suddenly I’m mortified. “Oh my God,” I gasp, feeling blood rushing into my cheeks. “What if they heard us ?” “Out in the hall?” he says. “We’re good, but I don’t think we’re that good .” And just as suddenly, I’m strangely disappointed . “Well, then,” I say, wrapping my arms around him. “I guess we’re just going to have to keep on practicing until we get it right .”

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Four 5 0. CHANCE The downside to Bora Bora is that it’s a twelvehour flight from O’Hare . The upside to Bora Bora is literally everything else . And, of course, the fact that we had access to Atlas Security’s private Gulfstream jet to take us there. Plus, recovering from jet lag is easy when you have nowhere to go, and all day to get there . Our tiki hut is one of a dozen at the private resort, each with its own private dock and catamaran. If anything else in the world exists outside of these things, I don’t want to know about it for at least a few days . The sky is the same clear blue as the water below us. Sara’s bikini, on the other hand, is emerald green. With her floppy hat for that infamously sunsensitive redhead’s skin, and her huge sunglasses, she fits in perfectly on her lounger with all the jetsetters around us .

She’s forgiven me for making her wait last night – or the night before last, or – I don’t even know what day it is anymore. Anyway, while she was in the tub, I was arranging this honeymoon . She shades her eyes as I hand her a mojito that’s sweating away its ice in the tropical heat . “Thank you, dahling,” she says with some made-up foreign accent. “Do I sound Eurotrash enough for our neighbors ?” “Hey, don’t be judgmental,” I say, lying down beside her. “Some of these people are nouveauriche American trash, too. Including us .” She giggles. “I know I say this all the time, but could you honestly have imagined this when we were kids? I know my imagination just wasn’t that powerful .” “Maybe not this specifically,” I say. “But I always imagined us being successful together. Whether that meant living in a bungalow in the suburbs, or vacationing in a tropical paradise, didn’t really matter to me .” I think I’ve made her uncomfortable, because she turns her gaze back toward the ocean. We keep running into these awkward moments. I guess that’s

inevitable, given the circumstances . Fortunately, they don’t last long . “Whoever invented the mojito deserves a medal,” she says, smacking her lips. Her glass is nothing but ice, lime and mint now . “What about the guy who gets you another one ?” “He deserves something else. He’ll just have to wait to find out what it is .” I jump up and run back to the hut as fast as my feet will carry me . *** L ater, after sunset, we’re floating naked in each other’s arms in the shallow water under our raised hut. I suppose one of our neighbors could see us with binoculars if they really tried, but I don’t really care . The only sound is the light splash as we bounce lightly, and the distant sound of faint conversation from the other huts . “Do you believe in heaven?” Sara asks . “I never thought about it,” I say .

“I think maybe, if we’re good, we get to choose our own heaven. I hope so, anyway. If we do, this will be mine. This moment, right here, right now, for eternity .” “I could get behind that,” I say. “Maybe we should start our own religion. If we get enough people to join us, we can make it happen. That’s how it works, right ?” She wraps her arms around my neck as her breasts bob in the water. I’m still recovering from our most recent trip to bed after the mojitos, but my cock is still doing its best to stand at attention . “We should be philosophers,” she says. “All those old guys I learned about in college were way off. So depressing .” I sigh. “Here’s something depressing: we have to go back to the real world in a couple of days .” Sara frowns. “Says who? You’re rich, and I’m your wife now, ergo I’m rich, too. We can just live here .” It suddenly occurs to me that she’s right. Not about living here – although that would be incredible – but about the fact that she’s rich now. In the crazy

whirlwind of our wedding, it never occurred to me to think about a prenuptial agreement. She’s legally entitled to half my money . Like I care. I’ve got much more important things to worry about. Like the fact that my flagpole is standing tall again . I plant my lips on her neck, eliciting a moan from her. Then my erection brushes her mound and she gasps . “The mojito delivery guy is looking for his reward again,” I whisper . She sighs in mock exasperation as she grabs my member . “Probably would have been easier just to give him the medal,” she mutters . She turns and tiptoes through the water, back toward the ladder that leads up to our hut’s living room, towing me by my cock . As I follow, my mind begins to go over the “living here” scenario with a lot more serious thought than before . ***

A fter our lovemaking, we lie awake in bed, feeling the tropical breeze through the open walls of the hut, Sara’s head on my bare chest . She turns to look up at me . “Did we win, Chance?” she asks. “Maybe ?” “Not yet,” I say. “But we will .” She gives me a faraway look. No doubt she’s wondering the same things I am: whatever happens, where do we go from here? We’re married now – will we stay that way? It’s a huge step, and we’ve only just reconnected . So many what-ifs. So many things to think about . But not right now. I lean forward and kiss her softly . “Whatever happens in the future,” I say. “This, right here, right now, is a win .” “Heaven,” she sighs sleepily. “Right here, right now .” She drifts off with her head still on my chest, but it’s a long time before I follow her into sleep .

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Five 5 1. INTERLUDE: QUENTIN PEARCE “You’re obviously wondering why I’ve asked for another emergency board meeting before the thirty days is up,” Pearce says as the Sullivans take their seats around the table in one of Empire Group’s boardrooms . “And while our chairman and chief shareholder is absent,” Agnes Sullivan says, cocking an eyebrow. “Of course you know that’s highly unusual .” “Yes,” Pearce replies. A muscle twitches in his jaw. “On his honeymoon with my former investigator, if my sources are correct .” Agnes smiles. “They are. It was a surprise, obviously, but I’m over the moon for them. Chance deserves to be happy, and Sara seems like a wonderful woman. I never thought you really needed an investigator, anyway .” There’s no humor in Pearce’s smile .

“No, I don’t suppose you would. And yes, it certainly was a surprise that they decided to get married the day after Sara came to me with a shocking revelation about your company .” That gets the old bird’s attention. She looks like a mother who’s just been told her child has been caught shoplifting . “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says as the rest of the Sullivans murmur amongst themselves . “Then by all means, let me fill you in,” says Pearce. “Ms. Bishop confirmed information that I’d gleaned from other sources about Chance Talbot’s relationship with your late husband .” Agnes frowns. “Patrick and Chance loved each other like family,” she snaps. “We all know it .” “Is that right? And your husband willed Chance his own controlling shares, rather than passing them along to his own son, out of love ?” She glares at him in stony silence . “What if I told you that Mr. Talbot was, in actuality, a blackmailing thug who got where he was by threatening to expose your husband ?”

“I’d say this meeting is over.” She stands, but her son puts a hand on her arm . “Wait, Mom,” he says. “We’re already here. We should at least hear him out .” Agnes sits back down but levels a warning finger at Pearce . “Listen to me very closely, Quentin,” she says. “If you came here to peddle scandalous rumors, you might as well tear up your offer right now .” “I actually did tear up my initial offer, but I’ll come back to that. First, though, I’ll assure you that this is not a rumor. As I said, it was confirmed by Ms. Bishop .” “I don’t believe you .” “Then ask yourself this: you saw her and Chance meet again for the first time in, what, fifteen years? And less than three weeks later, they’re married. How convenient .” Agnes scowls, but stays silent . “As you know, a wife can’t be forced to testify against her husband. And now here is Sara Bishop, married the very day after she passes along

incriminating evidence to me .” “What are you trying to insinuate?” Agnes asks . “I’m not insinuating anything,” Pearce says mildly. “I’m stating a fact: Chance Talbot found out about what Sara discovered, and he either bribed or threatened her to marry him so that she wouldn’t testify against him .” “That’s ridiculous. Chance would never do something like that .” “Ah, yes, our noble, upstanding Chance Talbot. A paragon of virtue. The man who threatened to expose his mentor to the Central Intelligence Agency after discovering him embezzling funds during a covert operation in Mosul, Iraq .” Agnes’s mouth drops open. The rest of the Sullivan clan look equally stunned . “Where do you think Patrick got the money to expand Atlas after he and Chance returned from Iraq? Very convenient how it just showed up out of the blue. A couple years later and everyone had shares – including the man who had no capital invested in the company, just time .” “I won’t sit here and listen to this –” Agnes starts,

but Desmond stops her again . “Hear him out,” he urges . “The money was part of a CIA operation to identify and neutralize insurgents who were killing Christian civilians in northern Iraq,” says Pearce. “Chance came up with a way to convince the CIA that the cash had been destroyed, and demanded his share of the company in return. Exposure would likely have resulted in Patrick being assassinated, or at best imprisoned, so he agreed .” “Now you’re slandering Chance and my husband!” Agnes barks. “I won’t stand for it !” “I believe Patrick had only the best of intentions,” he says, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Misguided, yes, but ultimately, he built Atlas into what it is today: a unique company that’s desirable to many investors. Chance Talbot, however, is nothing more than a thug and an opportunist .” Agnes shakes her head. “No. That’s not true .” Pearce reaches into a folder on the table and pulls out a sheaf of paper . “Mrs. Sullivan, we’re you aware that Chance Talbot has a lengthy criminal record ?”

She frowns. “No,” she says. “He doesn’t talk much about his life before the military. I know he grew up in foster care. I assume that’s not an easy life for anyone to survive in .” Pearce flips through the papers. “Assault and battery, theft, breaking and entering. Does that sound like surviving ?” “How did you get those documents?” she asks. “If he was allowed to enlist, his juvenile records had to have been sealed by the courts .” “I’m a resourceful man, Mrs. Sullivan .” “It still doesn’t prove anything .” “No,” he says. “And now, thanks to Ms. Bishop – I’m sorry, I mean Mrs. Talbot – we won’t be able to prove anything in court, either .” “If this is true,” Desmond pipes up, “We can’t afford to screw around with this deal. I say we sell while we can and let Chance fend for himself .” The older lady rounds on her son . “We will not sell until I’ve talked with Chance and given him the opportunity to explain himself, is that clear ?”

Desmond glances down at the table. “Yes .” She looks to her other children and their spouses . “The rest of you ?” They all mutter their agreement . “Fine. Then it’s settled: I’ll talk to Chance as soon as he and Sara return to Chicago. Until then, we don’t do anything different .” The Sullivans rise from the table and cross the boardroom to the door. As Agnes passes Pearce, he holds up a hand to halt her . “What is it?” she snaps . “I understand how you must feel right now,” he says. “And I respect your wishes. But may I give you some advice before you leave ? “Don’t trust Chance around any of your family members .” “Mr. Pearce,” she says archly. “Chance is a member of my family .” “As you say. But I feel the need to point out that one of his assault charges was against his own foster father. They were eventually dropped when

the man refused to testify. Sound familiar ?” Agnes glares at him before turning to walk out of the room in silence . As she slams the door behind her, Quentin Pearce smiles his first genuine smile in a very long time .

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Six 5 2. SARA “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want a big party?” I sigh . “Why is everything about you?” Grace snips on the other end of the line . “Because I’m the bride, dumbass !” “Sure, rub it in. Listen, you and Chance eloped without me, fine, I’ll get over it. But you have to let me celebrate it somehow !” “Fine,” I say as I round West Shubert onto North Wayne. “Who are you going to invite? You’re my only family, and Chance doesn’t have any at all, unless you count the Sullivans .” “Okay, we’ll make it a small party then !” I roll my eyes. “Fine, I give up. Do what you want .”

“Yay!” she squeaks. “So are you just going to give me your credit card, or what’s the deal ?” I stop in my tracks, prompting the guy who’s been walking behind me with his dog to do a dance step onto the boulevard to avoid running into my back . How are we going to handle finances now? Is Chance going to give me a credit card? In the days since the wedding, I haven’t been in a situation where I had to pay for anything. And are we married enough for him to give me access to his money ? I guess the fact that I just thought the words “married enough” is kind of an answer in itself. Crazier and crazier . “Look, sis, I’ll have to call you back. I’ve got a bunch of things to do .” “All right,” she says. “Hey, you don’t mind me staying at your apartment, do you? It’s so much nicer than mine .” Another thing I hadn’t thought about. I have a lease on the place, but I live with Chance now. But for how long? Do I keep paying rent on it until we get our marriage figured out? More questions for the pile I have to start asking once Pearce’s deal blows

over . If it blows over. Chance still has to come up with a compelling reason for the rest of the board not to sell . “Yeah, of course,” I say absently. “Might as well. Just don’t wear my clothes .” “When are you going to pick them up, anyway ?” “I don’t know. Chance kind of bought me a new wardrobe while we had a layover in Mexico City on our honeymoon .” “Ugh!” she barks. “How come you’re always so lucky? Why can’t I meet a rich hot guy who wants to marry me after two weeks ?” “Stop whining. It was a lot longer than that, and you know it .” “Fine, whatevs. I’m going to wear your clothes. ‘Kay, bye .” She hangs up, leaving me with my head spinning. We didn’t even talk about the clients I’ve left hanging since the day Quentin Pearce picked me up in his limo and flipped my life on its head .

I spend the next three blocks trying to focus on the thousand different things running through my head. And trying to figure out why the guy with the dog is behind me again. He should be a good block in front of me . I drop to one knee and pretend to tie my running shoe, long enough for him to pass by a second time. I shake my head at myself. Guess I still have my investigator’s suspicion, even if I’m not doing much investigating these days . That’s something else to add to the pile: when am I going to get back to my cases? They may not be as high-profile as a billion-dollar corporate takeover, but they matter. Every one of those girls matters . Which brings me back to money again. Will Chance subsidize Bishop & Associates to keep me afloat? Should I even ask him to? If he doesn’t, will Grace have to find a new job ? It’s more than enough to keep my mind occupied until I reach Chance’s – I mean our – front door. I’m so deep in thought that I barely notice the guy with the dog has fallen behind me again .

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Seven 5 3. INTERLUDE: QUENTIN PEARCE “Nice little office, Mr. Carter,” Pearce says as the receptionist ushers him into the room . “It does the job,” Tre says politely. “Thank you for coming on such short notice .” Pearce shrugs. “My ears are always open. Although I very much hope this isn’t just a rehash of Mr. Talbot’s speech against the sale, only coming from your mouth this time .” Tre motions for him to take a seat, then takes his own . “Definitely not,” he says. “In fact, I was hoping to talk to you about what might occur after the sale .” Pearce raises an eyebrow. “After? So you believe the Sullivans will sell ?” “Let’s just say it’s in my best interests to be prepared for every eventuality .”

“Forgive me if I’m a bit confused – aren’t you the head cheerleader on Team Talbot ?” Tre flashes an annoyed look. It’s enough to make Pearce sit forward in his chair . “We haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately on the future of the company,” he says. “Chance has made some… questionable decisions .” “Marrying Sara Bishop for one, I assume,” Pearce says, standing to peruse the various certificates on the wall beside Tre’s desk. “Hm. Harvard. Good for you .” “Thanks. As for Sara, it’s their personal decision to make. That said, it has definitely taken Chance’s head out of the game for several days now .” “Leaving you as president to run things in his absence,” Pearce says. “But I imagine you’re used to that, with him flying around the world and parachuting into war zones and all that .” “I keep the lights on, yes. I’m quite good at it .” “Mr. Carter, let’s cut to the chase, if you’ll pardon the expression. You’re hoping that, in the event of a change of ownership, you’ll still have a role in the company .”

Tre shrugs. “In a nutshell, yes. I have no stock in Atlas, so I rely on my salary to pay my bills. And please, call me Tre .” Pearce turns to face him, hands clasped behind his back. He attempt a sincere smile, and almost pulls it off . “Well, Tre, I for one appreciate your business acumen. In fact, from what I’ve been able to glean, Atlas owes a great deal of the success of its expansion to your shrewd mind .” “I could bring that same mind to the new owners, if they’ll have me. Assuming it comes to that .” “Oh, it will come to that, I assure you .” “How can you know for sure ?” Pearce pulls the chair closer to Tre’s desk and sits again. When he speaks, he leans forward on his elbows on the edge of the desk and lowers his voice . “I’ll tell you what I told the Sullivans at a meeting in my office earlier today,” he says . “The Sullivans were at Empire?” Tre asks, eyes narrowing. “For what reason ?”

“Therein lies a tale,” says Pearce, smiling genuinely for the second time in a day .

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Eight 5 4. CHANCE “Ta da!” I say as I pull the cloche off the china dish. “Lunch is served .” Sara’s grin lights me up inside. It’s exactly the reaction I was hoping for . “You did not ,” she says. “Seriously? Is this the real thing ?” “I can show you the blue box in the recycling, if you want .” I pull a wooden spoon from behind my back and hand it to her, prompting a giggle . “You thought of everything,” she says, pretending to swoon. “Be still my heart .” I take my own spoon and dig into my mac and cheese. The taste hasn’t changed one iota since the last time I had it as a kid .

“I should buy stock in Kraft,” I say, savoring the sharp taste of it . “Mmmm,” Sara moans though a mouthful of macaroni. “So good .” “So,” I say. “Any luck convincing Grace we don’t need a party ?” “I at least got her to scale it back. Just us, Tre and the Sullivans. Kelsey, I guess .” “Don’t forget Tre’s mom .” She snaps her fingers. “Right! I’ll have to get her number from you .” I pull out my phone to look it up just in time for it to ring in my hand. The caller ID shows Agnes’s contact info . “Speak of the devil,” I say by way of greeting. “We were just talking about inviting you and the family to a party .” “Chance, we need to talk,” she says gravely . What’s this about? I’ve never known Agnes to skip the pleasantries – she’s too much of a lady for that . “Of course,” I say. “What’s up ?”

She recounts her meeting with Quentin Pearce earlier in the day. My blood temperature goes up one degree for every word, until I’m boiling over by the end of it. Sara’s eyebrows go up as she looks over at the expression on my face . “You don’t believe it, do you?” I ask . “I don’t know what to believe, Chance. I mean, your sudden wedding, the questions I’ve always had about the expansion capital …” “Agnes, I don’t want to go into this on the phone, but believe this much right now: Patrick was the greatest man I’ve ever known. I consider him my father. He wasn’t a criminal and I would never have betrayed him .” “I just… I just don’t know. Pearce started talking about the Department of Defense. Would he really call them in ?” The DoD. Jesus, just like I feared . “Can you give me a day?” I ask. “Two at most. I need to get some things taken care of, and then we can meet .” “I don’t know …”

“Agnes, I can explain it all. But not right now, not on the phone .” She sighs. “All right, Chance. Two days, no longer. That only leaves a handful of days until the sale. One way or the other, the board will have an answer for Pearce on that day .” “That’s all I ask,” I say . “Good luck, Chance,” she says . “Thanks, Agnes. I’ll talk to you soon .” Sara’s bursting to talk as I click off the phone . “What’s going on?” she asks, eyes wide. “Why were you talking about Sully being a criminal? And you betraying him ? I bring her up to speed on Pearce’s twisted narrative . “Shit,” she breathes. “He really will resort to anything to push this deal through .” “And I still don’t know why!” I say, exasperated . “You said you think he’s going to flip Atlas to someone who wants to buy influence. I think I can confirm that theory – when I listened in on his call

that day, he was talking to someone about getting dirt on you .” “You think it was the buyer ?” “Not the buyer,” she says. “At least, not by the way he was talking to the guy, like he was a piece of shit on his shoe. He mentioned the guy’s uncle being involved .” I nod. That would explain quite a bit. But what Sara hasn’t asked yet is how someone could have come up with that story that Pearce is spinning. It’s just close enough to the truth to cast doubt on everything. Where did it come from ? “All right,” I say. “Can you give me any more detail? Did Pearce use a name ?” “No, they just used the term ‘partner.’ But I’ll never forget the guy’s voice: he had a New Jersey accent so thick, he could have been Snooki’s boyfriend .” New Jersey? Why does that spark an itch in the back of my mind ? Sara sighs. “This is a nightmare. I was already jumpy enough as it was. When I was walking home before lunch, I thought a guy walking his dog was

actually following me .” I arch an eyebrow. “Why’s that ?” "He kept ending up behind me somehow, even after he’d passed me. Happened twice .” “Stay here,” I say. It sounds like an order – I should probably work on that if I’m going to be a married man . “What are you doing?” she asks as I stalk toward the front of the house. The blinds are closed in the huge living room window, so I drop to the floor and open them a crack at the bottom corner . Sure enough, there’s a black car across the street with two guys in dark suits . “Shit,” I mutter . “What?” “There’s a car across the street. Department of Defense is watching the house. That crazy bastard actually looped them into this .” Sara blinks for a few moments. “Are you sure there’s not another explanation? Maybe they’re just regular people .”

“In a government issue Chev and black suits with sunglasses ?” “Oh. Shit .” “We have to get out of here. I can’t do anything to figure this out if I’m in a holding cell .” She bites her lip. “Do you really think it’ll come to that ?” “I don’t know,” I say. “And I really don’t want to find out .”

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Nine 5 5. SARA This is literally the craziest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve done plenty of crazy things . “You expect me to jump to your neighbor’s roof from here ?” “Front and back doors aren’t an option, and we can’t tunnel out,” Chance says. “I’m open to other options, if you’ve got any .” We’re both hunkered below the low wall that surrounds the greystone’s rooftop patio. There’s a little more cover from the trees, but we probably have only a couple of seconds once we stand up. We have to sprint and then leap the ten feet or so between us and the house next door . “Have faith in yourself,” he says. “I’m sure Kelsey trained you well .” “Yeah, and what if she didn’t? I drop three stories to the ground and then the DoD hauls what’s left of

me away, that’s what .” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Which leg is your strongest ?” “I don’t know!” I whisper-shout. “I’ve never tested them against each other !” “You’re left-handed, so it’s likely your left .” “Wait, what if it’s not ?” He smiles. “Have some faith in yourself .” “Okay, but you go first. I need you there to catch me if I don’t make it .” He frowns, thinking it over . “All right,” he says. “It’s time .” I take a deep breath. He knows damn well I’m afraid of heights. He took me to a train bridge in Philly once and tried to get me to climb up. I told him to kiss my ass . Now he’s my husband. Go figure . He points to the area where we’re going to launch from. It’s a drain well, so we won’t have to step up onto the wall in order to get across. He shoulders

the pack he brought with him onto his back . He nods. I nod . Next thing I know, my hand is gripped in his and he’s pulling me forward. My heart races as my pupils dilate – he’s taking me with him! I pump my knees to match his speed as we cross the space to the edge in under two seconds. I make sure to push off with my left leg . “You asshole!” I hiss as we launch across the divide between houses, trying to position our legs in front of us for the landing. We hit the gravel with our heels as the momentum pitches us forward into a barrel roll . We lie there on our backs, looking up at the sky and panting . “Sorry,” he says before I can scream at him. “But we both know I would’ve jumped and you wouldn’t have. Besides, that was romantic .” “You can forget everything I said about postwedding blowjobs,” I say. “Starting right now .” We manage to shimmy down a tree and reach the backyard gate. Chance double-checks the coast is clear before he pulls a key from behind a false

brick on the façade of the neighbor’s garage . “How did you know that was there?” I ask . “People tend to tell me things when they find out what I do for a living,” he says, opening the door. “Like they feel the need to brag about their own security to me .” There’s a late-model Range Rover and Toyota Rav4 parked inside. Chance opens the driver’s door on the Toyota . “Get in,” he says . “Not the Range Rover?” I ask, doing as I’m told. “But you’re rich .” He gives me a sardonic grin. “Good one. There are thousands of Rav-4s in Chicago. Not so many Range Rovers .” “How are you going to drive it? Something this new can’t be hotwired .” “With this,” he says, producing a key fob from his pocket. “I ghosted his radio-frequency identification signals the day he brought it home, for just such an occasion .”

I blink at him. “Of course,” I say. “I do that all the time. Twice on Sundays, sometimes .” He shrugs. “It’s sort of in my job description .” The garage door whirs behind us and he pulls out into the alley. There aren’t any surveillance vehicles that I can see, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. Luckily, the brilliant afternoon sun will make seeing through the Rav’s windows difficult for anyone who might be looking in our direction . “Where are we going?” I ask as we pull into traffic on Southport. “If they’re watching your – our – house, chances are good they’ve got eyes on your bank accounts and the Atlas offices .” “That’s what the pack is for. Emergency cash and supplies .” “So you’re whisking us off to your secret billionaire hideaway then ?” “Sorry,” he says. “That only happens in cheesy romance novels .” “I stand by my earlier blowjob comment,” I say as we drive toward whatever the hell fate has in store for us next .

Chapter One Hundred Thirty 5 6. SARA Chance drops a bag of fast food onto the round table with the wobbly leg as I emerge from the musty shower in the bathroom. Turns out fate had a $50-a-night room in the Rest-All Motel near Grant Park in store for us . “If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was still on my honeymoon,” I say, toweling off my newly-blonde hair. Chance is lucky – he can just wear a ball cap to cover his . “Nothing but the best for my gal,” he grins as he pulls the burgers and fries out of the bag. “I even got you the supersize fries .” I fan myself with my hand to show he’s making me hot. It actually feels good against my steaming skin – at least there’s plenty of hot water here. Chance dives into his food as I sort through the clothes we picked up on a Walmart stop before we got here. I choose a tank top and pair of yoga pants before

sitting down across from him . “What’s our next move?” I ask, picking at my fries. I don’t have much of an appetite right now. Too much going on in my head . “I wish I knew,” he says. “Obviously I have to clear my name, but I’m open to suggestions on how we go about that .” I frown. Usually I can fake it till I make it, but right now, I got nothing . “Where do you think Pearce got that story about embezzling and blackmail?” I ask. “It sounds a lot like what you told me, except a lot less flattering to you and Sully. But there’s enough truth to it that he must have gotten it from someone in the know .” He shakes his head. “There were rumors before the operation about a financier in Mosul. And it wasn’t a secret that Sully and I took out that terrorist cell. But to draw the two together would be a stretch. Unless …” I raise my eyebrows. “Unless what ?” “Hm?” he says, distracted. “Oh. Nothing. Just eliminating scenarios .”

Why don’t I believe him ? “Just remembered something,” he says, reaching into a white plastic bag. He pulls out a small box and slides it across the table to me . “What’s this ?” “Burner phone for each of us. I’ve already pulled the SIMs from our mobiles so we can’t be tracked .” I open the box to see a generic black smartphone. The number is on a white sticker plastered across the front. For some reason, this prompts a little thrill to run through me . “I feel like Jason Bourne,” I say, grinning in spite of myself. “Or Janice Bourne. Or whatever. You know what I mean .” He indulges me with a grin of his own . “It is kind of cool,” he says. “Knowing we can’t go outside without the possibility of someone catching us. The stakes are high .” “And hiding out in a sleazy motel is kind of awesome, too. Especially after the Sapphire and Bora Bora.” I shake my head. “God, I’m sick .”

“If you’re sick, then I am, too,” he says. “Your hair looks great, by the way .” “Would you recognize me if you saw me on the street ?” “Sara, I’d still recognize you if I was blind .” Awww…. I stand up and move to the queen-sized bed with the royal blue coverlet where I’ve laid out my clothes . “Remember what I said before?” I say, opening my robe to him. “About rescinding my blowjob comments ?” “Uh-huh,” he says, eyes wide . “Maybe I was too hasty .” I take his hands and pull him toward me. He’s under my robe instantly, stroking my damp, naked skin as I unzip his cargo shorts .

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-One 5 7. SARA “That wasn’t exactly keeping a low profile,” Chance sighs . I nod. “But there was something so… I don’t know, dirty about such a squeaky bed. I mean, knowing that everyone around us could hear us. It was such a turn-on. And, to be honest – it kind of reminded me of the old cot in the rec center storeroom .” He grins and rolls on his side to face me . “No wonder you were even more energetic than usual,” he says. “If that’s possible .” “Like I say, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for .” I throw on the tank and yoga pants and take a seat at the table. I’ve finally worked up the appetite for my burger . “I wish this place had a microwave to warm this up in,” I grouse .

“I’ll go get you a fresh one,” says Chance, pulling on his own clothes . “You don’t have to. It’s fine .” He holds up a hand. “Not another word. I’ll be back in a couple minutes with a fresh double cheese, hold the tomatoes, extra onion .” Awww… “Okay,” I say. “Thank you .” “I’m your husband, Sara,” he says. “It’s in the job description .” He grabs the keys to the old Camry we swapped for his neighbor’s Toyota at a chop shop in West Garfield. The guy thought we were pulling a sting on him, trading a new SUV for a fifteen-year-old sedan. Chance said take it or leave it, and here we are . I’m learning how much Chance knows about being a criminal, and to be honest, it’s a bit disconcerting. And, to be even more honest, it’s also a major turnon . I take advantage of the time alone to call Grace on my new phone. She finally picks up on the fifth ring

. “Hello?” she says tentatively. The unknown number probably has her thinking I’m a telemarketer . “Grace,” I say. “It’s me .” “Sara!” she shouts, forcing me to pull the receiver away from my ear. “Where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon !” “Settle down. I’ve got more important things to worry about than your party .” “Fuck the party! There are people looking for you, Sara! Very serious-looking people !” Shit! I forgot Grace is staying at my apartment ! “Who were they?” I ask. “Did they leave a name or number ?” “All I know is they were in black suits. They said if you got in touch with me, I should call them immediately .” “Okay, do not call them ,” I say slowly. “That’s the last thing we want to do. Chance and I are… on the road. We have to lay low for a while .”

“Is that why your number is different ?” “Yes,” I say, not adding it’s also the reason my address, vehicle and hair color are different . Okay,” she says. “But what’s going on? Weird stuff keeps happening .” “You mean besides the men in black ?” “Yeahhh,” she says hesitantly. “Look, Sara, I talked to Tre this afternoon. I was trying to track you guys down. He said Chance is in big trouble .” I take a deep breath. “It’s nothing we can’t handle, sis. Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out .” “There’s something else,” she says quietly. “Something Tre told me. It’s… not good .” What she says next breaks my heart .

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Two 5 8. CHANCE There’s an odd look on Sara’s face when I get back with her burger . Everything okay?” I ask as I set it on the table . “I called Grace on the new phone,” she says. “Some men in black suits came by my apartment looking for me .” “Is she all right?” I ask, alarmed . “She’s fine. Just a little rattled. But it blows the hope that we’re just being paranoid right out of the water. This is real .” I came to that conclusion before we left the house, but I suppose my instincts are a little sharper than hers. Comes with the job . She takes a bite of her burger, chews it automatically. I doubt she’s even tasting it .

“I’m sorry I brought your sister into this,” I say. “I never wanted any of this to happen .” “I know that,” she says. “And Gracie’s tough. She can handle it .” “Did she say anything else ?” Sara chews in silence for a moment before saying: “No, that’s it .” I sit down in the chair across from her and toss my ball cap onto the shelf that also serves as the stand for the room’s old analog television set. Maybe it’s my imagination, but she seems more upset by her talk with Grace than she’s letting on . But I won’t push her on it. We’re still feeling our way through all of this craziness – the situation, the marriage. The last thing I want is to put more unnecessary pressure on her . Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I’m about to do . “It’s yet another reason for me to get this shit sorted out as soon as I can,” I say. “I’ve got an idea that might work, but I’ll need your help .” “Anything,” she says. “What’s the plan ?”

“I need to get into Pearce’s offices and find out who his partner is on this deal. At the very least, that might help me figure out why he wants Atlas so bad. Maybe I can use that as leverage to convince the Sullivans not to sell .” She looks at me sidelong. “You really want to add breaking and entering to the fact we’re already fugitives ?” “Technically, we’re not on the run from anyone because no one has charged us with anything yet. From a legal standpoint, we just have really poor taste in accommodations right now .” “Semantics will get you nowhere,” she says. “Don’t make light of the situation. We’re in a lot of trouble, no matter how you look at it .” I sigh. “Yeah, we are. I’m just trying to keep myself from dwelling on it and to think strategically. Panic and depression don’t help with that .” She walks behind me and starts kneading my trapezius muscles through my t-shirt. It feels incredible . “Just what the doctor ordered,” I sigh . “Let’s say you find out who this mystery partner

is,” she says. “How could you use it against Pearce? I mean, you can’t do anything about a legitimate business deal .” “That’s just it – I don’t think it is legitimate. If someone is using Empire to buy Atlas and its influence in Washington, it’s because that someone doesn’t have either the money or the credibility to do it themselves. Pearce may have a reputation in the business world, but only a superficial one. Yeah, he’s a shark, but his checks don’t bounce . “Someone with a less stellar reputation – an arms dealer, say, or a loudmouth media mogul – would never convince the Sullivans to sell, even if they had the money. So they go to Pearce, who uses his reputation to their advantage. Once he owns Atlas, the next buyer can be whoever is willing to pay him the money .” Sara’s fingers continue to dig as she mulls over what I’ve said. I have to make a mental note that she likes to do things with her hands while she thinks. If she keeps this up, I might just nod off on her . “So Jersey Boy’s uncle is the partner, that much I’m sure of,” she says. “We just need to figure out who he is. Piece of cake. There’s only, what, like nine million people in New Jersey ?”

I chuckle. “Hopefully I can narrow it down if I get into Pearce’s computer system .” She finishes up with my neck and gives it a little kiss before sitting down on the bed . “And you can hack into his system ?” “Should be able to, yeah .” She stares at me long enough for me to start feeling uncomfortable . “What?” I ask. “Did I grow a new eye or something ?” “You learned all this stuff in the Marines ?” A jolt of adrenaline stabs my gut. No, hacking was definitely not a part of Marines basic training. I learned most of this stuff from certain people who I really don’t want to talk about . “Sully had access to people with skills,” I say. “I’m really not at liberty to go into details .” “Not even with your wife ?” “Sara, that’s something you’re going to have to get used to. Some of what I do is classified .”

She nods thoughtfully. “I get that .” So why do I think she’s still hurt by it ? “Anyway,” she says. “What do you need my help with? Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about espionage or hacking .” “Actually, what I need you to do is something you do exceptionally well .” “Really?” she says, feigning shock. “And you want me to do it in public ?” I grin and shake my head. “I meant something else you’re really good at .” “Which is ?” “I need you to draw attention to yourself .”

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Three 5 9. SARA I can think of a lot of places I’d rather be at this time of night than Lincoln Park. Unfortunately, a jail cell isn’t one of them, so here I am . And just in case sitting alone in a vast city park with nothing but the glow of the streetlights to see by isn’t bad enough, I’m also waiting for the person who threatened to ruin me just last week . “You owe me so big, Talbot,” I mutter . A smattering of people have walked past my bench since I got here: a few merrymakers staggering home from the bars, a bodybuilder jogging, a Gothlooking gal with two huge Rottweilers. But none of them are Quentin Pearce. When we spoke on the phone, he said he’d be here within a half-hour. It’s been over forty-five minutes now . “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he bailed on me,” I say softly .

“Talking to yourself, Ms. Bishop?” says a voice from behind me . I leap to my feet and spin to face Pearce, who’s approaching from the grass behind the bench. Obviously a plan to catch me off guard and upset me . “Quentin,” I say. “You startled me .” “Not nearly as much as you startled me by marrying Chance Talbot,” he says, strolling closer to the streetlight so I can see him clearly . I shrug. “You weren’t offering, so I figured I’d take the rebound .” His jaw muscle twitches in the white glow of the overhead lights. Looks like he’s not the only one who can throw people off their game . “Hilarious,” he says in a cold voice. “I assume you didn’t make me drive all the way here to make a joke. I was enjoying a pleasant night in with friends .” “No wonder it took you so long to get here,” I say. “But you’re right, I needed to discuss a few things .”

“And you couldn’t do it over the phone ?” “We both know that phone lines aren’t a safe option for me right now. I took a big enough risk just calling you to meet me here .” “Ah, yes,” he says. “I believe there are a few employees of the Department of Defense who would like to have a chat with you. Tre told me that they showed up at your apartment .” Hearing Tre’s name makes my stomach flip. I’d love to tear Pearce a new one over luring him to the dark side, but I can’t talk about it. Literally . “Let’s cut to the chase,” I say. “I want this all to stop. How do I make that happen ?” “Tell your husband to sell his shares. It really is that simple .” “And you’ll just let that happen? He can just walk away from Atlas with your money and everything will be forgotten ?” “I’m a businessman, Sara. Once I have his shares, you and Chance Talbot can run away and join the circus for all I care .” I glance at my watch: it’s been almost an hour since

Pearce left his house. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll have to drag this out . “What about the DoD people?” I ask . “I’ll use my influence to call them off. Apologize for sending them on a wild goose chase .” “Let’s say I believe you. What happens if I can’t get him to sell ?” He pinches the bridge of his nose under his glasses . “This is getting tedious, Sara,” he sighs. “And the deadline is approaching. I’m running out of patience .” “Got it,” Chance’s voice says through the transmitter in my ear. “Get out of there .” I smile. “I’m really sorry for wasting your time, Quentin. I’ll let you get back home now .” He stares at me for a moment. “What?” he says finally . “Yeah, I don’t think I have anything of substance to offer you tonight. I really just wanted to see your handsome face. Now that I have, I’ll be going .” I turn to walk away, supremely satisfied knowing

that not only did we accomplish our mission, I got to be a huge pain in Pearce’s ass tonight . Before I can take three steps, though, I see two silhouettes walk out of the shadows of a copse of nearby elms . “Leaving so soon?” says one of them, a man with a New Jersey accent. “That’s kinda rude, don’t you think ?”

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Four 6 0. SARA “Sara!” Chance barks in my ear. “Tell me what’s happening .” “Who are you two?” I say, not wanting to address Chance directly and risk exposing our plan . “We’re Quentin’s associates,” says the guy from Jersey. “He invited us along to see if we might have better luck impressing upon you how serious this situation is .” Jersey Boy is overweight, mid-thirties, with olive skin. The other one, a younger bald man in a black jacket and jeans, is silent. At least now I know what took Pearce the extra fifteen minutes to get here . “Not interested,” I say, striding around them . Jersey Boy reaches out and grabs me by the arm as I pass him . “Now that’s definitely rude,” he says. “We just

want to talk .” Chance is in my ear again: “Sara! Get out of there !” I look down at the guy’s meathook on my arm, then up at his face . “Do you jerk off with that hand?” I ask . He glowers at me. “What did you say, bitch ?” An instant later, his hand is in both of mine, twisted almost to the point of snapping. Jersey Boy drops to his knees in agony just as I dislocate his thumb . “Jesus Christ!” he shrieks . “Best learn how to use the other one,” I say . Suddenly the bald one has me in a bear hug from behind . “Don’t hurt her!” Pearce snaps. “I told him this was a stupid idea !” I kick my legs furiously in front of me in an attempt to break his hold. Nothing doing . “Sara!” Chance again. “Are you all right ?”

“Just give me a minute,” I mutter . “What?” asks the bald guy . “I wasn’t talking to you,” I say as I jam the heel of my pump into his instep. The sound of his snapping metatarsal bones would make Kelsey proud . I finish him off with a backwards head strike to the bridge of his nose. The crunch isn’t quite as satisfying as his foot, though . He slumps to the ground and I round on Pearce. His eyes are saucers, and I revel in the fact that I finally made him lose his cool . “I’m sure the Sullivans will be very interested in what just happened,” I say with a grin. “And what they can expect from the new owners of Atlas if they sell .” My heels clip-clop against the concrete as I walk toward Webster Avenue and the cab I told to wait for me when I got here . As I reach the fountain across from the bus stop, I smile as I hear Quentin yell “FUUUCK!” at the top of his lungs .

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Five 6 1. CHANCE “Remind me never to fuck with you,” I say as I open my laptop on the motel room table . “I don’t do all that training with Kelsey just to maintain my shapely legs, you know,” she says through a shit-eating grin . I insert the data stick with the info I stole from the office in Pearce’s house in Lake Forest while Sara was entertaining him and his friends. The distraction gave me almost two hours to break in, fill the stick, and get back out. But we’re still looking for a needle in a haystack . “So what did you find?” she asks, looking over my shoulder at the screen . “I did a search through his most recent transactions, and the name Nova Chemical kept popping up,” I say as the data fills the screen. “I did a little checking before I left: it’s a small operation,

hardly worth Empire’s notice .” “So why is it so important ?” “Exactly.” “Wait a minute,” Sara says, her eyes widening. “Nova Chemicals… now I know why I recognize the name! I did some work for the owner last year. Background checks on some job applicants. Paid really well .” I scratch my chin. There’s something hinky about this . “That’s quite a coincidence,” I say. “Who did you deal with ?” “A guy named Dacosta. He was a real creep – kept asking me all sorts of personal questions. I think he was trying to hit on me, but he wasn’t very good at it .” Wait a minute… this can’t be right … “This Dacosta guy: was his first name Sebastian?” I ask . She raises her eyebrows. “How did you know that ?”

Shit. As if this wasn’t convoluted enough as it was. This is a monkey wrench I really don’t need. But it might help me make sense of all this . “I met Sebastian Dacosta in basic training,” I say. “Served with him in one of my tours in Iraq .” That’s as far as I’m going to go with that . “I got the sense he thought of himself as a tough guy,” she says. “Like he got off on being intimidating .” “That was him all over. He used to brag about being from a ‘connected’ family, as if that would somehow impress a bunch of Marines .” Sara sits down next to me and drapes her arm over my shoulder, still staring at the screen . “What does it all mean?” she asks. “Now that you say ‘connected family,’ it makes me think of the guy from New Jersey tonight. He definitely gave off a distinct vibe, kind of like your friend Sebastian .” “He wasn’t my friend,” I snap . “Okay, okay,” she says. “Your enemy, then .”

I sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m on edge .” “You’re on edge? I was the one who took on two guys single-handedly !” I turn to her and take her hands in mine . “That’s why I’m on edge,” I say. “When I heard what was happening over your earpiece, I almost lost it. The thought of you in danger …” “I was never in any danger,” she says, laying a palm on my cheek. “You’ve seen me in action, remember ?” “In my head, I know that. But that didn’t stop my heart from going into spasms at the thought of you getting hurt. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before, but now – now I think I have to know that you’re safe all the time, or I might go crazy .” She stares into my eyes. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she whispers . “I lost you once,” I say. “I’m not going to let it happen again .” Sara climbs out of her chair and straddles me on mine. Her lips meet mine with a softness and warmth that’s a total contrast to our usual manic

passion. I wrap my arms around her as she lowers her lips to my neck, tracing tiny, warm circles with the tip of her tongue . “I want you so much,” I sigh in her ear . “Not as much as I want you .” She climbs off me and leads me by the hand to the electric blue bed. I strip off my shorts and shirt as she frees herself from her tank top and yoga pants. We turn down the coverlet together and lie down, gently stroking each other’s bodies . “You have to get used to me taking care of myself,” she says . “I know. And you have to get used to me worrying about you .” She smiles. “You were the only one who ever worried about me. I was always worried about Grace, or Mom, or getting a beating from my father, but never myself. And I always felt safe in your arms .” “I actually did go kind of crazy when you turned me away that night,” I say. “It was like the only thing I could ever count on in the world was suddenly taken away from me, as if it had never

existed. If I hadn’t had the Marines to carry me through, I don’t know what would have happened to me .” I see the tears pooling in her eyes and reach out a hand to stroke her face . “Shhh. There was nothing you could have done; I know that now. I just wanted you to know that’s how I felt about you .” “Sending you away was like slicing myself open with a rusty blade,” she husks. “I was never the same after that .” Jesus, now I’ve got water in my eyes, too . “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we ?” She giggles in spite of her tears. “Yeah, we’d make a therapist rich. Well, you would, anyway .” “Excuse me?” I say with mock indignation. “You’re just as screwed up as I am !” “Yeah, but I don’t have any money, so I can’t make anyone rich .” We grin and go back to making out. It’s slow and wet and warm and luxurious. Sara strokes my cock

gently with the tips of her fingers as I gently massage her breasts . “We should talk about money,” I say . “Yes, we should. But not right now .” Her hard nipples poke my chest as she reaches over me to turn off the lamp on the rickety nightstand . “Now,” she says, “it’s time to serenade the neighbors with another bedspring concerto .”

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Six 6 2. SARA I drop my knife and fork to my empty plate with a faint clank and push my chair back from our table. The Rest-All motel may be shit, but the breakfast here at the attached diner is incredible . “God, I needed that,” I say with a sigh that turns into a belch . Chance cocks an eyebrow at me. I smile sweetly . “You put a ring on it, baby,” I coo. “It’s all yours .” He pops his last scrap of toast into his grinning yap and chews . “We definitely worked up an appetite last night,” he says. “I’m surprised none of the other guests called the manager on us .” I glance around at the rest of the diner’s clientele. Most of them look like fifty bucks a night is stretching their budget to the limit. More than a few

look like they’ve been rode hard and put away wet . “I have a feeling they’ve got other things to worry about .” Chance chugs down the rest of his coffee. “What time are you meeting your sister at the farmer’s market ?” “In about an hour,” I say, glancing at the clock on my new phone . “You remember the drill ?” “Yes,” I sigh. “Wear sunglasses, watch my six, keep to crowded areas, bolt into the crowd if I see trouble .” He gives me a sheepish look . “Like I said last night, I need to know you’re safe .” “I know,” I grin. “And I love you for it .” Suddenly we both freeze. My heart feels like it’s waiting for something before it beats again. I can feel the blood rushing into my cheeks . “I mean,” I sputter. “You know, just that –”

“I know what you mean,” he says, taking my hand. “I love you, too .” Okay. Now it’s out there. We said those words to each other all the time as kids, but we’ve both been avoiding it since all this craziness started . We stare at each other anxiously for several long moments. Sara’s the one who finally breaks the silence . “That’s a good thing, right?” I ask tentatively. “For a husband and wife to love each other ?” “It’s the best thing. It’s the only thing .” We sit there holding hands, stroking each other’s fingers with our thumbs like shy teens on a first date . “You know,” I say. “I’ve still got a whole hour before I have to meet Grace …” He pulls me out of the chair and tosses a fifty on the table. In a few seconds we’re taking the stairs to our room two at a time . So much for the shy part . ***

I sidle up to Grace by a booth where a long-haired man in his sixties is selling shirts made out of hemp for a hundred bucks apiece. For that price, he better be making them by hand . Says the wife of a man who drives a Bugatti and flies her to Bora Bora on a private jet. Then again, I drive a fifteen-year-old Camry right now, but we’ll address that as soon as all this craziness ends . Assuming all this craziness ever does end . “Don’t react,” I whisper from behind her. She flinches, but doesn’t turn around. “We’re just two old friends who haven’t seen each other in a few months .” She plays her part well, turning and giving me a mild “Hey!” and a half-hearted hug . “If I’d known you were such a good actress, I would have taken you into the field with me on cases,” I say, smiling . “This is seriously fucked up,” she says with a smile of her own. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing .” “Me, too .”

We leave the hemp shirt emporium behind and stroll down a concourse lined with everything from late-season corn and healing crystals to Indian food and mini-donuts . “How do I look as a blonde ?” “Like someone on the run,” she says. “Sara, what’s going on ?” I give her more details on why we’re hiding out and my meeting-slash-rumble with Pearce and his friends last night . “Holy shit,” she breathes. “That’s insane .” “Tell me about it. How are things at the office ?” “The Steins are asking if we have anything new on their daughter, but for the most part it’s been quiet .” Shit. I was following up leads on Ashley Stein when I got that first call from Pearce. God, it feels like a year ago now. I can’t believe it hasn’t even been a month . “Tell them how sorry we are, and that they’re the top priority once I get back to work .”

“So you are coming back to work?” she asks . “Of course. Why would you wonder ?” She shrugs. “You get married without telling me, take off for days to the other side of the world, go underground. How am I supposed to know what’s going on in your head ?” I sigh and wrap an arm around her shoulders . “Not being the best big sister right now, am I?” I whisper. “I’m sorry about all this, Gracie .” “I don’t think it’s you who should be sorry,” she says . “What do you mean ?” “I mean Chance seems to be the common denominator here. He’s the reason you’re getting caught up in all this craziness .” I stop her with a hand on her arm. “That’s not fair. He’s just trying to save his company, not to mention his freedom and reputation .” “Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” she asks as we find a bench in the shade of a boulevard tree and take a seat .

“What are you getting at? Spit it out .” “Look,” she says. “I’m just saying Tre has a different story. If he really believed Chance was innocent in all this, why is he switching allegiances to Quentin Pearce ?” That question has been in the back of my mind since Grace first told me about it. I can’t believe Tre would betray his best friend like that, after all they’ve been through together. And I haven’t told Chance about it, because I know it would crush him . “Maybe you should ask Tre that, not me,” I snap. “I thought I knew him. Guess I was wrong .” Grace scowls. “He’s still the same guy he always was. He told me he wishes you’d never gotten caught up in this stuff, and he really thought it was crazy for Chance to propose to you like he did. To be honest, so did I .” “Look,” I say. “You’re just going to have to trust that we know what we’re doing. Is that too much to ask ?” She thinks it over for a few moments before nodding .

“All right,” she says. “I’ll do that for you, if you do something for me .” “Fine.” “Just think it over. Isn’t it possible that there’s something to what Tre said? I mean, you know him. He’s not the kind of person to switch sides for no reason, especially against his best friend. Maybe you need to ask yourself how much you really know about Chance and his past .” I want to dismiss all this as just more of Grace’s nonsense. She’s always lived in a fantasy world – I was the one who kept our father from going after her and took the beatings myself. I shielded her from the worst of Mom’s illness. Hell, I gave her a job and let her live in my apartment! She has no idea how the real world works ! But do I really believe that? Or am I willfully ignoring some of the things I already know about Chance ? “Sara?” she says with a wince. “Are you mad at me ?” “No,” I say. “Not at you. Look, I’ll think over what you’ve said as long as you agree to keep an open mind about Chance. I mean, he is your brother-in-

law .” “For now, anyway,” she says glumly .

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Seven 6 3. CHANCE “Well, look who randomly showed up !” I grin at the joke just like I always have as Tre’s mom opens the back door to her house for me . “That one never gets old, Mrs. C,” I say as she ushers me into her kitchen. “Just like you .” She giggles. “And you never get any better at lying, Chance, but I appreciate the effort .” I wish I could say she’s right about my ability to lie, but she’s not . Once we’re inside, she pulls me in for a hug. Natalie Carter is a big woman, with big hugs, and she always smells of rose oil. To this day, it’s one of my most powerful memory triggers, taking me back to my days of sleeping on the couch in her house in Philly . The one Tre bought her here in Chicago is small

and old-fashioned, but she loves it and that’s what matters. It’s also very close to the Rest-All Motel, which I why I chose it . “Sit down, take a load off the floor,” she says, waving a hand at the kitchen table. “Coffee ?” “You read my mind. So how are you ?” “Oh, you know me,” she says, placing a pair of cups on the table and taking a seat opposite me. “I’m always good .” She watches me take a sip of my coffee. I savor it for a few seconds, knowing full well what’s to come . “You all settled?” she asks . “Yup,” I say, wincing. “Let me have it .” “Are you out of your fool-ass mind, boy?!” she hollers. “You go off and get married without inviting your Mama C to the wedding? To Sara Bishop, of all people! I haven’t even had a chance to see the child since she came back, and now she’s your wife !” I nod. “I deserve all of that. And I’m sorry. All I can say right now is that we were victims of

circumstance .” She waves a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, I know, classified work stuff and all that. But why didn’t you bring Sara with you today ?” “She was busy with work,” I say, proving that I do indeed know how to lie. “But her sister Grace is planning a party, and you’ll be the guest of honor. How’s that ?” She eyes me up sternly, but can’t keep the grin from her face . “I suppose that’ll do.” She raises a warning finger. “For a start .” “Whew,” I say, wiping pretend sweat from my brow . “I’m just so happy for you two,” she says. “Finding each other again. I always thought it was a damn shame the way you two broke up back in Philly .” “Me, too. But we’re making up for lost time now .” In more ways than one . She sighs. “I wish Tre would find the right girl. The boy works too much .”

There’s my opening . “Have you seen him lately?” I ask, sipping my coffee . “He was over just last night,” she smiles. “Brought me an Entenmann’s crunch cake. You want a slice ?” “No, thanks. So what did he have to say for himself ?” “He said he’s been working with some new fella named Quentin. Price, was it ?” “Pearce,” I say. “Yeah, he’s new. So, what are those two up to? I’ve been out of the office for a while with the wedding and everything .” She tells me what Tre told her. I take copious mental notes as we talk for another half-hour. Finally, I glance at my watch . “Sorry, Mrs. C, I have to run .” “Got to meet the missus?” she says with a knowing wink. “I was a newlywed once myself .” “That’s one of the things I love about you,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “You never beat around

the bush .” She gives me a peck on the cheek . “You bring that bride around for supper soon,” she says. “I’ll make my pot roast .” My stomach rumbles at the memory of her homecooking, reminding me I haven’t eaten since breakfast . “It’s a date,” I say. “Sara’s dying to see you again .” “You give her a kiss for me, hon. I’ll see you soon .” She sees me off with a wave and I start the sixblock walk back to the Rest-All, my mind running a mile a minute .

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Eight 6 4. SARA It’s early afternoon and Chance still isn’t back at the room, so I boot up my laptop and scroll through my news feed while I wait . I don’t have a lot of friends on social media, so there are only a handful of people demanding, like Grace, to know what I thought I was doing, getting married without letting them know. “PM ME!” they all say . That’s not going to happen anytime soon . I can’t get Grace’s words out of my head: for now . He told me he loved me. That should be enough. He’s the same boy I fell in love with all those years ago . But he’s also a hardened combat veteran with the skills of a criminal and ties to the CIA. And he’s desperate to save his company and keep his secret buried. What lengths would a man go to in order to

make that happen ? Would he steal? Check. Would he co-opt a potential witness? Check. Would he hide from the authorities? Check . What else is he willing to do ? I call up Google News to distract myself with what’s happening to other people in Chicago. The Cubs are on a streak, the Bears. Three shootings overnight near Lincoln Park, which makes me shudder. A lady celebrated her 107th birthday and told reporters the secret to longevity is a daily tumbler of gin . Then I see a something that freezes my blood . The headline – Chicago Businessman Found Strangled – isn’t what hits me. It’s the tag line below that leads into the story itself . Nova Chemicals Owner Sebastian Dacosta, 35, Dead; Police Investigating . My heart is hammering. It’s listed under breaking news; the story, bare bones as it is, was posted just twenty minutes ago . Where is Chance? Why didn’t he tell me where he

was going ? My stomach is in knots. A single online news story is enough to wash away the dizzying trance I’ve been in since we exchanged rings last week. The wedding night, the fantasy honeymoon, all the many, many times we made love . Now all I see is the name Sebastian Dacosta in bold letters in front of my eyes. Even when I shut them tight and ball my fists into them, it’s still there . Could Tre be right? Even if he isn’t, I’ll only ever have Chance’s version of what’s happening as long as I’m on the run with him. Do I have that much faith in him ? Could anyone in my situation? I’m so new to love, I can’t even answer the question. Do lovers – husbands and wives – follow each other without reservation, no matter what ? God help me, I don’t know what to do . The old brass key slides into the lock behind me and my heart jumps into my throat. I slam the lid of my laptop down almost hard enough to crack it before the door handle turns and Chance steps inside. He’s in a pair of cotton shorts and a gray t-

shirt with damp armpits . The heat of the day wafts in with him, prompting the clunky air conditioner to wheeze to life. If only I could cool myself down so easily . “Hey,” he says. “How’d things go with Grace ?” “Fine,” I say. “Where have you been ?” Way to play it cool, Sara. Just jump on him as he walks in . “I went for a run,” he says, mopping his face with one of the room’s scratchy hand towels . “For two and a half hours ?” “I had some errands to do, too,” he says. “I emailed my neighbor a money transfer for the Rav along with an apology. He can buy a brand new one with the fifty grand, plus a tropical vacation on top of it .” I try to keep my emotions off my face, but I can’t tell if it’s working . “Are you going to shower?” I ask. “You’re a little ripe .” He actually smells of rose oil. That didn’t happen

on a run, unless his body produces it instead of sweat. He’s lying to me . He grins. “You bet. And then maybe we can play another bedspring symphony ?” I force myself to smile as he pulls me to him. His lips are hot against mine, prompting the familiar flutter in my belly and the ache between my legs. But when I close my eyes, all I see is the name: Sebastian Dacosta . He lets me go and looks at me curiously . “Everything okay?” he asks . “Perfect,” I lie. “Or as perfect as they can be, given the circumstances .” He gives me a curious look before kissing me one last time and heading into the bathroom . As soon as I hear the shower blast, I gather up my things in a store bag and bolt for the door, praying that’s not the last time his lips will touch mine . I’m in such a hurry that I’ve run three blocks before I realize I forgot my laptop .

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Nine 6 5. CHANCE “Sara?” The steam from the shower fills my field of vision for a moment before it clears and I see she’s gone . Odd. She didn’t say anything about going anywhere. Maybe she’s just out grabbing coffees. The machine in the room crapped out the first night . Too bad: my hard-on is in dire need of attention. Guess I’ll just have to wait. I’ve gotten spoiled already, after just a few weeks with her. That voracious appetite for sex has woken up a beast in me that I didn’t know was there . I flip open Sara’s laptop to call up my secure webmail and see if my neighbor has picked up his deposit yet . And just like that, the world flips upside down .

Nova Chemicals Owner Sebastian Dacosta, 35, Dead; Police Investigating . Jesus Christ. Dacosta dead the day after I find out about Nova. It can’t be coincidence. He has to be connected with this. But why kill him? Did he talk ? My mind is spinning again, wheels within wheels, when it hits me: I called up a screen that Sara had been reading. It was still up when I opened it, meaning she must have closed it in a hurry when I came in . Fuck! No wonder she was acting so strange. First I lie to her about where I was, then she sees the man we were talking about not twelve hours ago has been murdered. Of course she’d jump to conclusions, you stupid bastard ! I glance around the room, heart racing. Her laptop is the only thing of hers left in the room. Everything else is gone. I run to the window to see the Camry is still there. She must have literally run out of here . My brain is working overtime as my guts crawl with panic. Finally, my training kicks in and I hear Sully’s voice in my ear: Breathe. Focus. Think . Breathe . My chest expands as I inhale deeply

through my nose, exhale through my mouth. Once. Twice. Three times. It’s enough to slow my heartbeat so that at least it’s not pounding in my ears . Focus . I wipe everything from my mind except what I can control right now . Think . Pearce or his associates have to be behind this – there’s no other explanation. And my instincts tell me they figured out what I did last night and saw it as an opportunity to frame me . If I wasn’t technically on the run before, I sure as hell am now. It won’t just be the DoD looking for me, it’ll be homicide detectives . I need to make sure Sara is safe. I pull out my burner phone and call her number. It rings six times before going to a voicemail that’s simply a beep, no message, like we agreed . What do I say? I can’t talk in any detail in case the authorities find her and get into her phone. It has to say so much in just a few words . Before I know what I’m doing, my mouth says: “Please trust me.” I wait a beat before adding: “I love you .”

Chapter One Hundred Forty 6 6. SARA The twenty-minute train ride to Kelsey’s gave me far too much time to think. So many questions without answers, so much at stake, so many crazy emotions. It seems I’ve barely blinked and I’m at the station up the street from her condo . My phone buzzes. The number on the caller ID is Chance’s. My stomach sinks as I hit “ignore .” Have I made the biggest mistake of my life? Or have I saved myself from making the biggest mistake of my life? I just don’t know . “Jesus, girl, you look terrible!” Kelsey blurts as she opens the door and sees me . “Thanks,” I say with a wan smile as she leads me inside. “That’s what I was going for. It’s all the rage this season .” Kelsey brings me a coffee and sits down at the other end of the sectional in her living room, a

place where we’ve whiled away countless evenings with popcorn, beer and Netflix. I’ve always associated it with good feelings and safety . Now, I’ll never be able to think of it as anything other than the room where I finally had my nervous breakdown . “What the hell is going on, Sara?” she asks. “Sudden wedding, cryptic phone calls, a new number, blonde hair. You’re not …” Then her eyes widen as she realizes what she’s saying. I can read her mind; she’s thinking about my mother . “I’m not bipolar,” I say. “At least, I don’t think I am. My problems are coming from the real world, not inside my head. Sort of .” I wonder if I sound as ridiculous to her as I do to myself right now . “Then tell me,” she says. “Let me help .” With Dacosta’s death, things have gone from just crazy to downright dangerous. I can’t let Kelsey be pulled into this. But I need her clear thinking right now more than ever .

“I can’t really talk about all of it. What I need from you right now is your opinion of Chance .” “My opinion? You married the guy, isn’t it a little too late to be asking that ?” I sigh. “I can’t help but wonder if maybe I made a mistake. It’s important for me to get your read on him .” “Honey, letting your friends influence how you feel about a man can be a really slippery slope. It usually leads to heartache in one form or another. Besides, you’ve known Chance since you were kids. What am I going to bring to the table ?” “I know all that, but this situation is… unique.” To say the least . “All right,” she shrugs. “Want something specific or just a general ‘hot-or-not’ answer ?” “You’ve had combat experience,” I say. “You’ve been around soldiers in dangerous situations. Plus you only met him a couple of times .” “What are you getting at ?” “What’s your gut impression of him? If you were headed into a firefight with him and had to sum him

up in a few seconds, what would it be ?” She frowns in thought. After several seconds, she says: “He keeps himself tightly controlled. He’d be the kind of guy you could trust to have your back .” “But?” I can sense she’s holding something back . “But controlled guys tend to be calculating, too, and they play things close to the vest. You never know what they’re going to do until they’ve already done it. That makes them unpredictable in combat, which can be a good thing and a bad thing, depending on the circumstances. Does that make sense ?” “It does,” I say . “But it doesn’t help you. You want to know if you can trust him with your heart .” I sigh. “You read my mind .” Kelsey puts a hand on mine . “Listen, Sara, for what it’s worth, my gut tells me Chance is a good man .” I don’t doubt that. It’s whether or not he’s an honest man that’s killing me right now. I know he’s

done things that crossed the line, and I’m okay with that. But he’s keeping things from me, and I don’t know what they are . And I can’t help but wonder if Sebastian Dacosta is dead because of me. Because I happened to know who he was . Too many questions .

Chapter One Hundred Forty-One 6 7. CHANCE I can’t take the risk of using my phone – even if they can’t trace it, they may be monitoring the people I call. So I surprise Mrs. C for the second time today . “You’re popping up like a stray cat today,” she smiles as she answers the door. “Just like when you were a boy, hanging around my door looking for food .” I take her hands in mine and her eyes widen . “What is it, hon? Something wrong ?” “Is Tre planning to come over again tonight?” I ask . She nods. “He’s going to help me finish last night’s leftovers. Why ?” “I need you to give him these for me .”

I hand her an envelope full of notes I scribbled on motel stationary before I left. She cocks an eyebrow as she takes it . “Why don’t you just give this to him yourself? You sure nothing’s wrong ?” “I can’t explain right now,” I say. “I wish I could. Can you make sure he gets these ?” “Course,” she says. “But I want to know what this is all about when it’s over, you hear me ?” “Yes, ma’am,” I say, kissing her cheek. “One last thing: tell him that Sebastian Dacosta wasn’t me .” Her eyes widen. “Sebastian Dacosta? The man from the news ?” Shit. I couldn’t risk writing it in my notes, just in case they get intercepted somehow. I didn’t realize she might have seen it already . “Chance, what the hell is going on ?” “I need you to trust me, Mama. Okay? Tell Tre and only Tre. And only when he comes over tonight, not over the phone .” She stares at me for a long moment before nodding.

“All right,” she says. “But like I said, you owe me an explanation .” “You’ll get it,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “Thank you for trusting me. One last thing: if Sara gets in touch with you, tell her I love her .” She glares at me. “Why don’t you just tell her that yourself ?” “Circumstances,” I say. “I have to go .” As I turn to leave, she grabs me and pulls me into a hug . “I don’t know what’s going on,” she says in my ear. “But you take care of yourself, you hear? And you keep Tre and Sara safe, too. I need all of you kids .” “Roger that, ma’am,” I say, wishing I felt as confident as I’m trying to sound .

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Two 6 8. SARA Last night was the longest night of my life since the one when I sent Chance away from my door all those years ago . Sleep avoided me like an angry ex all night. I lay awake staring at the ceiling of Kelsey’s living room for what seemed like an eternity, going over my decisions in my head. So many regrets. So many uncertainties . I wonder what Chance is doing this afternoon as I walk to the Starbucks near Bishop & Associates’ office. When Grace called in a panic, I tried to think of an out-of-the-way place to meet that wouldn’t be under surveillance, but then I thought fuck it. I’m already tired of running . She waves at me through the window as I approach the door. Once inside, I slide into the seat across from her .

“That’s my blouse,” I grump. “And you couldn’t have bought me a coffee ?” I can tell by her eyes that Grace is busting at the seams to tell me something. I told her not to talk about it over the phone, even though I can’t help but wonder if Chance isn’t completely full of shit about all this surveillance stuff . “What’s got you so wound up ?” “Shit is getting real, Sara,” she hisses as she leans over the table. “Quentin Pearce came by the office this morning with a check for $150,000. He said he needed to talk to you – he used the word ‘imperative.’ And he told me to mention somebody named Sebastian Dacosta to you. He said you’d know what he was talking about .” It’s as if I dared the universe to throw me one more fucking curveball, come on, let’s see what you got. Now it’s flying straight for my head . Grace looks around to see if anyone is listening to us. The coast is clear . “And then I saw the news online,” she whispers. “The guy Pearce said to mention was murdered yesterday afternoon, Sara. What the fuck is going on here ?”

God, I wish I knew . “What did you tell him?” I ask. “Did you give him back the check ?” “No!” she snaps. “We still have bills to pay. And to be honest, Pearce didn’t seem like the bad guy you made him out to be. He was concerned about your safety .” “His friends attacked me in the park, Grace !” “Are you sure about that?” she asks. “Or were they defending themselves against you ?” The moments run through my mind again: they definitely started it, but if I’m being honest, Pearce didn’t condone what they did. He tried to get them to stop. “Don’t hurt her! I told him this was a stupid idea !” Christ, I’m actually sitting here wondering if I can trust Quentin Pearce. Of all people . Grace’s voice snaps me out of my head . “I told him I’d try to get in touch with you,” she says. “So here I am. Tre is working with him, Sara. Why won’t Chance? What’s the deal ?”

I shake my head. “It’s too complicated to go into here .” “How convenient,” she says with a fake smile. “Look, Sara, all I’m saying is that Quentin Pearce didn’t seem like the demon you made him out to be, and Tre thinks he’s all right. And he paid us what he said he would. Meanwhile, you and Chance just keep saying ‘bad guy.’ Well, pardon me for not thinking the same way you do .” I’m so exhausted that I’m actually considering this. ’I told him this was a stupid idea!’ Is Pearce under the thumb of his partner? Maybe he actually is trying to help me. I can’t be sure of anything anymore . “So what does he want with me?” I ask . “He said he just wants to talk,” Grace pleads. “That can’t hurt anything, can it ?” How should I know? The last time we talked, I beat the shit out of his associates. But that was before Dacosta showed up dead and Chance started lying to me . “Fine,” I say. “Give me his number. I don’t have the contacts from my other phone .”

She slides a piece of paper across the table and I tuck it into my purse . “Sara, are you really okay?” she asks. “You’re in the same clothes you were wearing yesterday. And where is Chance ?” “I’m fine,” I lie as I stand up to leave. “And I don’t know where Chance is.” That’s the truth . “Then what are you going to do ?” I run my hands down my face to try and wipe the exhaustion from my mind . “I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” I sigh. “No more running. I’m going to start taking the fight to them .”

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Three 6 9. SARA A mall food court isn’t exactly the place you’d expect high intrigue to go down, which is exactly why I chose it for this meeting. Anything out of the ordinary happens here and people will have their phones out recording it in no time flat . I see them walking toward the eating area before they see me. They’re both in impeccably tailored suits, and it suddenly strikes me that Tre actually has a lot in common with Quentin. They’re both business majors with money on their minds at all times. The fact that they found a way to work together shouldn’t surprise me . Tre catches sight of me and his eyes widen. He jogs over and pulls me into a hug . “Thank God,” he says. “I was so worried about you !” “I’m fine,” I say stiffly, not returning the embrace .

“Where’s Chance ?” “I don’t know. That’s probably for the best .” Pearce points to a table and we sit, the two of them side by side, me opposite them. I want them to know in no uncertain terms that I don’t trust anyone right now . Pearce speaks first: “I was hoping that you would at least hear Tre out, since you’ll likely never trust me again after that night in Lincoln Park .” “You think?” I say with a quizzical smile . He nods. “You have every right to be angry. My choice of companions was an associate’s idea; I was against it but he insisted. I apologize for their conduct. Although, to be honest, you were the one who resorted to violence first .” “I might do it again right now if you keep pissing me off,” I say evenly . Tre holds up his hands in surrender and turns to Pearce. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Quentin, but I’d appreciate it if you kept your fucking mouth shut for the rest of our time here. Okay ?” Pearce glowers, but does as he’s told .

“Thank you for agreeing to this,” Tre says to me. “I was hoping to be able to talk to you without Chance being here .” I flash back to the afternoon when Tre came storming out of Chance’s office after arguing . “Why?” I ask. “He trusts you . What can’t you say in front of him ?” He frowns. “Chance has always been like a brother to me, but I’m worried about him right now. I think this offer from Empire has him on the ropes. At first I thought it was just his pride, that he didn’t want to lose Atlas. But now I think there may be more to it .” “Like what ?” “You remember when we were kids, he got in trouble. That one time he went after his foster father –” “Because that so-called ‘father’ tried to put his hand down Chance’s jeans!” I bark. “What of it ?” “Shit,” Tre breathes. “He never told me that part of the story. But even that speaks to the point I’m trying to make. He’s dealt with a lot of shit in his life where he didn’t have control over what

happened to him. His way of coping with that was to become the kind of person who takes charge, who gets things under control. It’s why he was such a good Marine, and why Atlas is what it is today .” “You’re listing off his character traits,” I say, trying not to draw lines to what Kelsey said about control. “So what ?” “So this offer from Empire was beyond his control, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t want to lose control of the company, but he also couldn’t come up with a plan to convince the Sullivans not to sell .” “And?” “And when you found out about the angel investor, he lost even more control .” My stomach drops. “You’re saying that marrying me was just part of a scheme ?” Tre shakes his head. “I can’t say that for sure. All I know is that before we had our falling out, he was talking about manipulating you because you were investigating the company. I told him I was against it, that putting your feelings on the line was out of bounds .” Suddenly all the sounds around us in the food court

seem to fade into the distance. I’m surrounded by people and yet I feel utterly alone . “Sara, did Chance ever tell you about Sebastian Dacosta ?” “Yes,” I say through numb lips. “And I know he’s dead now .” “Did he tell you they both worked for Sully in Iraq ?” My heart freezes. “No. He never mentioned that .” “Dacosta was one of Sully’s hired guns in the days before he and Chance expanded Atlas. There were always rumors of ties to the CIA. And Quentin here has told you about the intel he has on CIA money being embezzled into Atlas as a so-called ‘angel investment .’” I say nothing. My mind can’t form any words . “It’s very possible that Dacosta knew about that and was the source of that intel to the people who gave it to Quentin .” “I can’t reveal who my partners are, obviously,” Pearce chimes in .

My mind manages to find a few words: “I thought I told you to shut up .” The shocked look on his face is enough to lift my spirits for a moment . “Look, Sara,” says Tre. “I’m not going to accuse Chance of having anything to do with Dacosta’s death. But you yourself have to admit it looks awfully suspicious when the guy turns up dead right at the time he could be most damaging to Chance .” Chance lied to me about where he’d been yesterday afternoon, the time Dacosta was killed. My stomach churns at the thought I’ve been trying to avoid for the last twenty-four hours . Tre must see it on my face because he takes my hand in his . “Sara, we need to find Chance,” he says. “Can you tell us where he is ?” “I told you, I don’t know .” He nods. “Okay. But I still think you’re the person he’ll contact first, if and when he decides to surface. Will you come with us ?” My mind is racing. What choice do I have? This

craziness has to stop. I tap a few keys on my phone and send my contact info to Tre’s number . “You can get in touch with me here,” I say. “I promise to answer. But I’m not going to go with you. Not right now. I have things to figure out .” “Of course,” he says. “But if you need anything, I’m just a text away .” “Actually, I need money. Chance told me to toss my credit and debit cards so they couldn’t track us, and the banks are closed on Sundays so I can’t get new ones .” Tre reaches into his wallet and hands me five hundreds . “At the risk of pissing you off again,” Pearce mutters. “There’s a cashier’s check for $150,000 at your office that will clear in a day .” “Thanks,” I say, standing up. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow .” Tre’s eyebrows go up. “Promise ?” “Scout’s honor .” “I’m really sorry, Sara,” he says. “You should never

have been caught up in all this. I’m sorry it took this kind of crazy shit for us to all find each other again. This should have been the happiest time of our lives .” Yeah, it should have been. And now I wish I’d never answered Pearce’s call that morning. But like the old saying goes, wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which one fills up first . I’ve got myself a big old handful of shit right now .

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Four 7 0. CHANCE If most people knew just how easy it is to hack into their smartphones and use them as listening devices, they probably wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. The FBI, for example, has the capability and authority to turn on your phone right in your pocket and hear every word you say . Luckily, they don’t unless you’re under investigation. But that’s exactly the reason I bought the burner phones for myself and Sara. Unfortunately, that also means I can’t track her with my tech . Grace’s phone, on the other hand, was wide-open fair game. That’s how I knew Sara was in this mall, and it’s the reason I’m now watching her walk toward me . The look in her eyes makes my heart crack. I text her a message that I hope she sees; I don’t want to have to chase her through the city .

Stop at the statue . She pulls her phone from her pocket and reads as she walks. Then she looks around, startled. I step out from the shadow of a modern art sculpture that looks like an abstract aardvark just as she arrives . “What do you want?” she says nervously. “Aren’t you scared of being seen by all the boogeymen that are after you ?” I steeled myself for what I know this conversation has to be, but it still hurts . “Sara, I’m sorry,” I say. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. I didn’t kill Dacosta .” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to believe anymore after talking to Tre .” I have to make sure I word this the right way . “Tre doesn’t have all the information,” I say. “He doesn’t know the whole situation .” “Well, maybe he would if you’d stop slinking around and come clean!” she snaps. “Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on ?” “Because the less you know at this point, the safer

everyone is .” I know that’s cryptic, and I know exactly what she’s going to say . “How convenient,” she says with a rueful chuckle. “You have to keep me in the dark to make sure something happens. And of course, you can’t tell me what that something is, so I just get to keep on wondering what the fuck is going on ! ” Passersby look at us, startled. I reach out to take her hand but she pulls away from me . “I want this to stay nice and public,” she says . I can’t blame her for that, but I also can’t have unnecessary attention on me . “All I can ask is for you to trust me,” I plead. “Can you do that ?” She looks at the ground, obviously battling tears. God, how did this all go off the rails so fast? Everything is spinning out of control . “I don’t know,” she says. “I can’t tell what to believe anymore .” “Believe this: I’m doing all of this for you .”

“Then why did you lie to me about where you were yesterday?” she asks, eyes pleading. “You said you went for a run but you were gone for over two hours and came back smelling like rose oil .” Jesus. Mama’s perfume – she hugged me … “Sara –” She throws up a halting hand. “I only want to hear one more thing from you and then I’m going to leave .” “Anything,” I say . The stricken look in her eyes almost makes me knees give out . “Is our marriage real?” she asks bleakly. “Or was it all just part of your big plan ?” I take her by her arms and pull her to me before she can get away . “It’s the realest thing I’ve ever had in my life,” I say . She looks into my eyes, but it’s not enough to keep her here. She pulls free and walks away from me . “Good luck, Chance,” she says softly without

turning around. “I hope we can find each other again someday .” I barely have a moment for that to sink in before I feel the hard steel of a gun barrel jabbing the spot in my back directly behind my heart . “You’re not an easy man to find, Mr. Talbot .”

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Five 7 1. CHANCE I freeze, knowing whoever this is doesn’t want any attention drawn to himself, either . “Where are we going?” I ask . “There’s a copse of trees to your right that leads onto a side street next to the park. Let’s just walk that way. I’ll be a few paces behind you, but my friends have eyes on you. Understood ?” I nod and start to stroll away, thinking furiously. Department of Defense wouldn’t take this approach. Unless they’re worried about making a scene with the CEO of Atlas. They need the company to perform a lot of the work that they can’t do themselves . Unfortunately for me, they need Atlas Security, not Chance Talbot. I don’t have a free pass here by any means. I need more time . I see three more men in dark pants and jackets step

out from behind the elms as I approach. We’re well hidden from the concourse here, and the exit gate to the street is right nearby, blocking the view from where they’re no doubt parked. That’s confirmed when I see the black van a few spots up . “Whatever you’re thinking, I guarantee you’re wrong,” I say as the three new guys step in my way to halt me . The one who was behind me, an older bald man with horn-rimmed glasses, steps into my line of sight. He’s put the gun away, at least. Two of the others fill his spot behind me, trapping me in a square . “We just want to talk, Mr. Talbot,” the bald man says. “We hope you’ll be reasonable .” “Does it involve getting in that black van over there?” I ask, nodding toward the street . “Unfortunately, yes .” “And you’d rather I didn’t draw any attention to us .” He smiles. “If you wouldn’t mind .” I raise my hands, palms up. “I’m a reasonable man.

I’m glad you’re not willing to shoot me so close to innocent people .” “Excellent.” The guy on my left flank reaches out to push me forward and I snatch his wrist with my left hand, drawing him forward as my elbow drives into his side. It combines to throw him off-balance, allowing me to shift my weight and pitch him into the guy on my right . Those two stumble as the third locks his arms around me from behind. The bald man is standing in front of me looking frustrated, so I stomp my foot into his chest so that he doesn’t feel left out . The guy behind me tries to lift me in a bear hug, but I drop all my weight into my hips and root myself to the ground. Meanwhile, the man on my left has recovered enough to join the fray and takes a swing at me. A powerful twist of my hips pulls the one behind me forward into the path of the punch . Now it’s those two who are disoriented, leaving me to spar with the guy on the right as the bald one struggles to his feet. We trade a few blows before the other two rush me. I know it’s a foregone conclusion – these guys are trained and I can’t take out all four – but by Christ, they’ll know they were

in a fight . “Enough,” the bald one snaps. “End it .” I feel a hard lump sheathed in softness against the back of my head. Then blackness . *** C onsciousness swims back to me like a toddler fighting the tide, but eventually my thoughts manage to coalesce and I open my eyes. I’m sitting in a metal frame chair. The tingling in my hands tells me they’re restrained behind me . Across from me is a distinguished-looking man with flowing silver hair and a dark suit. His legs are crossed at the knee and he’s looking down his nose through a pair of glasses at what I assume is a newspaper crossword, judging by the pen poised in his hand . He glances at me over his glasses and smiles . “Welcome back to the land of the living,” he says. “I was starting to worry you’d been permanently damaged .” The knot on the back of my head is still throbbing, but I don’t feel any real symptoms of a major

concussion . “I’ve survived harder knocks to the head,” I say. My voice sounds drunk to my own ears . “I don’t doubt it. You’re not an easy man to reason with, Mr. Talbot. We’ve been trying to talk to you for days now .” “Yeah, you even camped outside my door. Sorry for running out on you like that, but I was worried you might be trying to sell me Amway or something .” The guy surprises me by chuckling. “Sully told me you were a smartass,” he says, shaking his head . I try to keep the surprise from my face as that registers and take a moment to scan the room: featureless, no windows, just a big one-way mirror on the wall . “You’re not DoD,” I say . He grins and touches the tip of his nose with a carefully manicured finger . “Can I assume you’re in a more receptive mood for conversation now, Mr. Talbot ?”

I tug at the restraints on my wrists. “Do I have a choice ?” “Well, you could continue to struggle, or you can play nice and we’ll take those off .” “I’ll play nice .” “Good,” he says, producing a key from his pocket and unlocking the cuffs. “Wouldn’t want to risk that brain of yours with another thump. We have too much invested in it .” What the hell does that mean ? “No doubt you have a lot of questions,” he says. “I’ll do my best to answer them if you’ll return the favor and answer some of mine .” “Ask away,” I say as I rub my wrists to get the blood circulating again . “Excellent.” He leans forward, elbows on knees. “First order of business: Sebastian Dacosta .”

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Six 7 2. SARA One more sleepless night like the last two and I think I might just go insane . I spent the $500 Tre gave me on food and a hotel room that was a step up from the Rest-All Motel, but still several steps below the Presidential Suite at the Sapphire. I was tired of extremes – I just wanted something normal for a night . Grace offered to vacate my apartment so I could stay there, but I declined. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts for one single night. In hindsight, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, since it just gave me an endless amount of time to feed my own worries . “Ms. Bishop,” Pearce’s secretary says, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Mr. Pearce will see you now .” I almost ask her how the diarrhea is going as I pass

her desk, before realizing that’s just my exhausted brain rambling . “Sara!” Quentin says with more warmth than I’ve ever seen. “Good to see you. Please, sit down .” I all but collapse onto the elegant sofa. His office is very well-appointed. It lets people know that he’s got a lot of money, which in turn means he can make them a lot of money. Everyone around me seems to have money on their minds these days . “I trust the cashier’s check cleared and your company’s accounts are fatter this morning?” he asks . Case in point . “Yes,” I say wearily. “Is that all you wanted me here for ?” His grin makes my skin crawl . “You could say thank you,” he says in a “just kidding” tone . “Why? Because you fulfilled your end of our contract? Fine, I’ll say thanks.” I put on a Pollyanna grin. “Thanks for paying my fee, Quentin! You’re awesome !”

He frowns. So much for his attempt to act like a normal human being . “I could give two shits about money right now,” I say. “If you don’t have anything else to discuss, I’ll be going. Thanks for wasting my time .” “That’s interesting,” he says evenly, despite my taunts. “I would have thought money would be foremost on your mind right now .” “And why is that ?” “You’re married to Chance Talbot,” he shrugs. “When you divorce him, you’re legally entitled to half his shares in Atlas. I doubt he had time to arrange a prenuptial agreement before your hasty wedding .” That thought never entered my head, but now that it’s there, it’s hard to ignore. I really don’t care about money, but we’re talking potentially hundreds of millions of dollars here. That could do a lot of good . But it would also hand over even more control to Pearce . “You asked me here to talk me into selling,” I say. “Because you think I’m going to divorce Chance.

That’s a mighty big assumption, Quentin, even for you .” Another cold smile. “I never would have taken you for a prison bride, Sara. But I guess to each their own .” What the hell is he talking about ? “Prison bride?” I say. “How do you figure ?” “I know Chance broke into my home office and found out about my connection to Nova Chemicals,” he says. “Once he found that, he would have realized that Sebastian Dacosta was the one who supplied the incriminating intelligence my partners and I have been trying to confirm . “I’ll tell you what I told the rest of the board, just in case you haven’t figured it out yet: Patrick Sullivan embezzled money from a CIA operation while in Iraq and used it to fund the expansion of Atlas. Chance found out about it and blackmailed him into raising him up in the company. Sullivan knew that if the information came to light, the company – and his family – would be ruined .” I shake my head. Chance told me they stole that money form a terrorist financier. This story isn’t true – is it? I don’t have any evidence either way. It

comes down to which one I believe . “You’re wrong,” I say. “Chance would never do that .” “I’m sure you didn’t think he was capable of murder, either. Try to convince Sebastian Dacosta of that .” My head is spinning with all this. And underneath it all is an itch at the back of my head that won’t fully solidify. Something Pearce said doesn’t add up, but I can’t think of it consciously. The harder I try, the further it slips away . “Let’s say I do divorce him and sell my shares,” I say. “That would leave you with all of the stock, except for what Chance has left .” “And the courts would likely force him to divest himself of them after a conviction. It’ll just take a little time .” “But then aren’t you left holding the bag? It will eventually come out that Atlas was started with stolen CIA money. Why would you and your partners, whoever the hell they are, want to own a tainted company ?” He grins again. “The US government needs Atlas,”

he says. “So do many other governments around the world. They’re not going to want to see it go down in flames. And when the new owners generously offer to compensate the CIA for their losses, they’ll be seen as heroes as well as good corporate citizens, making up for the previous owners’ sins. Politicians will be lining up to be invited to the Atlas golf tournament .” I hate to admit it, but he’s not wrong. The stain will be on the Sullivans, not the new owners. Sully and Chance were the ones behind everything. With Sully gone, that leaves his family and Chance to take the fall . Do I want to be a part of any of this? Selling to Quentin feels so slimy, like a betrayal of Chance. But do I want to get dragged through the mud along with him ? God, I wish I’d never met Sebastian Dacosta ! Pearce’s phone starts to ring. He glances at the screen and smiles . “My contact in the Department of Defense,” he says, tapping the answer button. “Maybe he has some good news .” As he talks, the itch in my brain gets stronger.

Something doesn’t add up here, but what is it? And what just made it itchier? Something he said. Come on, Sara, you’re an investigator – think like one! What was the trigger ? I wish I’d never met Sebastian Dacosta . Wait a minute … I know Chance broke into my home office … he would have realized that Sebastian Dacosta was the one behind the incriminating intelligence … Suddenly it’s right there in front of me: Chance didn’t know Dacosta had anything to do with Nova Chemicals until I told him. Up to that point, it was just a company, not a person . He recognized the name but not the connection. It existed, but he needed someone to point it out to him. And what are the odds that the one person who had incriminating information on Atlas just happened to be a recent client of mine ? About as high as the odds of Quentin Pearce randomly choosing my name because it was first in the phone book. How stupid could I be ? It was right in front of me the whole fucking time .

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Seven 7 3. SARA As Pearce jabbers on the phone with his man in the DoD, I mentally prepare my verbal assault on him. This stinks like week-old halibut, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it if it’s the last thing I do . And I’ll be more than happy to spend every penny of the $150,000 he paid me to make it happen . Suddenly my phone is going off in my hand. Chance! It has to be ! But it’s not. The caller ID says Noble & Cassidy. That’s Chance’s legal firm. How the hell did they get this number ? I thumb the answer button tentatively. “Hello ?” “Mrs. Talbot,” says a middle-aged voice. “This is Daniel Thompson with Mr. Talbot’s legal team. Please forgive me for calling unannounced, but being Monday, I was hoping I could get you to come by our offices and get this paperwork out of

the way. And I can’t seem to track down Mr. Talbot today – would you happen to know where he is ?” “Paperwork?” I say stupidly. “What paperwork ?” The voice is silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, I assumed Mr. Talbot had discussed it with you .” “Discussed what with me?” As if I needed another distraction right now ! “Getting your name added to all of Mr. Talbot’s accounts, adding you as sole beneficiary in his will, the usual,” he says. Then he chuckles. “You know – giving you the keys to the vault, as it were. He asked me to get started on it the day of your wedding, but I’m afraid it took quite a while to get all our ducks in a row .” Chance gave me access to his money? The day we got married? No wonder it took him so long to come to the bedroom at the Sapphire hotel ! This isn’t a marriage of convenience. This is real, and now I feel sick for ever doubting him. And did I honestly believe he was capable of murder? What the hell was I thinking ?! “I’ll have to call you back, Mr. Thompson,” I say absently. “Something very important has come up.

Thanks for calling .” I thumb the phone off without waiting for a reply. As luck would have it, Pearce is hanging up from his own call . I have to play this close to the vest, just like Chance would. But it’s all I can do to keep from grabbing Pearce’s scrawny neck and choking the answers I want out of him . “Just as I suspected,” he says. “They have Chance in custody. They’re already on the way here to debrief me on what I know about Dacosta’s murder. I can only imagine how they’ll react to my information about the missing CIA money .” Before I can say anything, I hear the door open behind me. Tre walks in, looking concerned . “Sara, what are you doing here?” he asks . “I wanted to talk to her about selling her shares,” says Pearce. “But as fate would have it, she’s also going to be able to sit in on my discussion with the people in the Department of Defense. They have Chance .” Tre’s eyes pop. “What ?!”

“They’re just holding him until they can get my story,” Pearce grins. “They’ll turn him over to the FBI after that. They’re aware of how delicate the situation is; they don’t want to bring unnecessary attention to any of this. I imagine they’ll also want to know about Ms. Bishop’s time on the run with Chance .” “Sara,” Tre says to me. “I didn’t know about this. I didn’t want to see Chance end up in custody .” My fury isn’t just contained to Pearce. I’m still appalled that Tre could turn on Chance the way he did. What kind of friend – what kind of brother – would do that ? Then it hits me: I turned on him, too. What kind of wife would do that? Who am I to be all high and mighty with Tre ? “There’s a lot more going on here than you think there is,” I say. “And when the DoD gets here, I’m going to make sure I fill in the holes in your story, Quentin .” He gives me a startled look. “What are you talking about ?” “I’m sure they’ll be very interested in how you just happened to find my name in the phone book that

morning of the board meeting,” I say coldly. “And speaking of coincidences, isn’t it funny how I also happen to be the investigator who has a background with Sebastian Dacosta ?” Tre looks like his head is about to explode . “Wait,” he says. “You knew Dacosta before all of this happened ?” Suddenly Pearce looks like a slug is trying to crawl down his throat . “I did some work for him late last year,” I say. “He asked me all sorts of personal questions. I thought he was hitting on me. Now I can’t help but think he wasn’t interested in dating me at all; he just wanted to know more about me for whatever the hell plan Quentin here has cooked up .” Tre glares at Pearce. “Is this true ?” “She’s obviously clutching at straws,” he says. “She can’t resist rushing to Talbot’s rescue, no matter how much evidence there is to prove he’s a dangerous man and that he married her to keep her from testifying .” He turns to me. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Sara. I know how hard that must be for you .”

At that moment, the intercom on Pearce’s desk buzzes . “We’ve had your secretary called away on urgent business, Mr. Pearce,” says a male voice. “May we come in ?” He grins as he walks to the door. “Now that my friends are here, we’ll all have the opportunity to tell our stories,” he says. “I’d be happy to cover bets on which one they’re going to believe .”

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Eight 7 4. CHANCE What the hell is Sara doing here? That wasn’t supposed to be part of this ! Pearce looks at the men leading me in by my cuffs and frowns . “Where’s Dresden?” he demands . “Major Dresden has asked us to take the case from here,” says the silver-haired gentleman. “I’m Johnston, this is Frey .” The bald man who subdued me in the park nods . “Of course, you already know Mr. Talbot,” says Johnston . “Yes, indeed,” Pearce grins. “Always a pleasure, Chance .” I’ll bet, you little prick. If I wasn’t in these cuffs …

“These are my associates, Tre Carter and Sara Bishop.” He pretends to be embarrassed. “Pardon me, I mean Sara Talbot, of course .” Johnston nods acknowledgement. “The major said you had some sensitive information that might help us resolve this more quickly, sir. We’re all ears .” Sara’s eyes lock on mine. I wish I could read what’s going on behind them right now. All I can do is hope this turns out. And that she can forgive me . “Well,” says Pearce. “As I told Dresden, my partners and I received some rather shocking information from Sebastian Dacosta before he was killed. As I’m sure you’re aware by now, Mr. Dacosta served with Mr. Talbot in Iraq and was an early employee of Atlas Security under the nowdeceased founder, Patrick Sullivan .” Johnston nods. “Before we go on, who are these partners you mentioned ?” Pearce looks surprised by the question. “Oh. Well, I suppose if you need to know. It’s a privately held trust run by a family from New Jersey .” “Uh-huh,” Johnston says, scribbling in a notebook. “And the names of the principals ?”

Pearce looks uncomfortable. “The head’s name is Tony Arturo .” And just like that, I know what Pearce was trying to do. What he’s still trying to do . “Okay,” says Johnston. “Please continue .” “Well, Mr. Dacosta was an associate of Mr. Arturo, you see. When Mr. Arturo talked about buying Atlas, Mr. Dacosta gave him some information about how the company managed to expand so quickly several years ago .” “And how was that?” Johnston asks, still scribbling . “He said Patrick Sullivan managed to funnel money from a CIA counter-terrorism operation in northern Iraq back into the States, where he used it to fund the corporate expansion .” Johnston looks up from his notebook, eyes wide. “You realize what you’re saying? You’re talking about treason .” “Is that the proper legal term?” Pearce asks. “Well, if you say so .” Suddenly Tre interrupts, holding his hands up as if

there’s a gun pointed at him . “Look, maybe we all need to take some time here to cool down. Treason isn’t a word we want to be throwing around randomly here .” Johnston eyes him up. “We’ll be talking to you soon enough, Mr. Carter. Right now, Mr. Pearce has the floor .” “Well, the rest is fairly simple,” says Pearce. “Mr. Talbot found out about it at the time and threatened to turn in Patrick Sullivan. He blackmailed his boss into making him a partner and leaving him Sullivan’s own shares in his will .” “All right,” Johnston nods. “And how does this tie in to Dacosta’s death ?” Pearce frowns. “Isn’t it obvious? Talbot found out Dacosta had talked to my partner and he killed him to shut him up .” I’m waiting to see what happens next when fate throws me a curveball that I never would have seen coming . Sara comes forward, eyes blazing, and stands beside me. She turns my head to hers and plants a long, deep, powerful kiss on my mouth. It’s like a

splash of cool water on a brutally hot day, and I savor every last drop of it . “Ahem.” Johnston clears his throat. “If you wouldn’t mind not kissing the prisoner. We tend to frown on that sort of thing .” “I don’t really give a shit what you frown on,” she says, turning to Pearce. “And I’ve had just about enough of you trashing my husband, you little prick .” My heart pumps faster with every word. She believes me. Thank God, she believes me. It was the worst part of this whole ordeal, not knowing if she still trusted me. Knowing that she’s behind me in this is all I need. Nothing else matters . Meanwhile, Pearce is sputtering . “Of course his wife is going to say that!” he fumes. “Ask her how long they were together before they got married! Conveniently right after the information about Atlas’s investment came to light .” Johnston looks at Sara and shrugs. “You seem to have something to say, Mrs. Talbot. Be my guest .” “Oh, I have a lot to say, but right now, I want to

apologize to Chance.” She turns to face me, eyes wide and swimming with tears. “I’m so sorry I doubted you. I knew you couldn’t murder anyone. And I don’t believe that you blackmailed Sully. Or that Sully stole that money. I believe everything you told me .” I’ve got tears in my own eyes now. “There’s nothing for me to forgive,” I say. “You reacted the way anyone would have, because I wasn’t completely honest with you. I should have been, and I’m sorry .” She kisses me again, pulling me tight against her lips. It’s desperate, the kind of kiss you give before the jail cell slams closed . We touch foreheads and she looks into my eyes . “It’s a good thing you gave me access to your accounts,” she says. “I can get your defense team prepared. We’re going to fight this. The charges against you, the sale, all of it. I’ve got your back .” I smile. “I never doubted it for a moment, babe .” “I love you,” she whispers. “Whatever comes our way, no matter what, I love you .” “I love you, too. And I’m ready to fight with you .”

Now it’s Tre clearing his throat. We both look over at him. Sara looks like she’s spoiling for a fight, but he surprises her by holding up a hand . “I know you love him, Sara,” he says. “But I’m here to tell you, Chance isn’t above lying. In He’s been lying for weeks now .” Tre turns to face Pearce and smiles widely. “In fact,” he says, “both of us have .”

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Nine 7 5. SARA I turn to Chance, dumbfounded. “What is he talking about ?” The corners of Johnston’s mouth curl upwards in a curious smile. Beside Chance, I see Frey cross his arms over his chest and tilt his head . “I’m curious to hear that myself,” says Johnston . “Good,” says Tre, propping his butt on the corner of Pearce’s desk. “Because I’ve learned a lot over the past week of working closely with Quentin here .” Pearce’s eyes are blazing like a bonfire . “What the hell are you talking about?” he barks. “We’re in this together! I’m going to bring you with me !” “Yeah, not so much,” says Tre. “See, that’s your biggest downfall right there, Quentin: you assume

everyone is like you. That loyalty can be bought and sold for the right price. Sorry to burst your bubble, but that man over there is my brother. And no amount of money in this world is going to make me betray him .” Tears are coursing down my cheeks now. I feel almost as terrible for not trusting Tre as I do for not trusting Chance. The relief is palpable, like a physical sensation inside my chest. These are the men I loved back then. That I still love today . “I hope your pen has plenty of ink, Agent Johnston,” Tre says. “First off, we’ll start with the partners. Just in case you didn’t recognize the name, Tony Arturo is the head of the Arturo family, currently on any number of FBI watch lists. There’s never been any hard evidence against them, but they’ve got a reputation as New Jersey’s most connected family. Scratch the underbelly of Atlantic City and they’ll scurry out like cockroaches .” Now it all makes sense . “I believe I had the pleasure of meeting Tony’s nephew the other night and breaking his hand,” I say. “Charming fellow .” Chance’s eyes light up. “That was the guy?” he

says brightly . “I’d bet my bottom dollar on it,” I say. “Which I guess in your bottom dollar these days .” He grins . “But Big Tony has some big dreams,” Tre continues. “He doesn’t like everyone calling him a scumbag. He wants to be important. He’d also really like to have the feds called off his family’s tail. So what’s the best way to do that ?” Pearce’s face is the ruddy maroon now, and I seriously wonder whether he has blood pressure issues . “Go on,” says Johnston . “I think I can finish that thought for him,” says Chance. “Mr. Arturo would love to have control of a prestigious international company like Atlas Security. It’s welcome in every country in the world, except a couple that we really don’t want to associate with anyway .” Tre beams. “Right you are! So if you connect the dots, it all starts to spell out a plan to seek political office of some sort.” He turns to Pearce. “What was it? Governor? Senate ?”

Pearce flinches so hard I almost burst out laughing . “So it’s Senator Arturo,” Tre says with a nod. “And, of course, once he’s in office, he’ll start whispering in a few ears – congressmen, judges, officials – about how his family is being persecuted and he’d be really happy if they were just left alone .” I have to get in on this. Now that the outline of the narrative is flowing, it’s pretty easy to speculate on the rest . “Let me guess, Quentin,” I say. “You’re tired of wealth. You’ve got all the money, now you want power. And what better way than to attach yourself to a rapidly rising politician? A few terms in the senate and you’d weasel your way into the halls of power as the man behind the throne .” Tre touches his nose and points at me. “Give the lady a prize !” I preen as Chance beams at me proudly. This feels so fucking good after all those weeks of uncertainty and fear . Johnston is still scribbling. He’s the most laidback government agent I’ve ever seen .

“So where does Dacosta fit into this?” he asks . Pearce points a warning finger at Tre . “You keep your mouth shut,” he hisses. “I’m warning you .” Tre flips him the bird. “Warn this , motherfucker. Dacosta was connected with the Arturos, and when he heard about the sale of Atlas, he tried to weasel in with bogus intel. He only knew rumors of what happened in Mosul, but he sold it like it was solid evidence .” He turns to me. “This all started months ago,” he says. “Dacosta knew about you from his days in the Marines with Chance .” My heart flutters as I turn to my husband. “You talked about me in the Marines? After what I did to you ?” He shrugs. “You were the only girl I ever loved. Who else was I going to talk about ?” Oh, my God. I can’t believe this. I lean in close and put my lips next to his ear . “You are going to get sooo lucky for that,” I whisper .

“I can’t wait,” he says. “Assuming I’m not headed for a prison cell, that is .” “Anyway,” Tre says theatrically, shaking his head at us. “Dacosta found Sara and learned she was an investigator. He hired her to do some bullshit work so he could gather intelligence to give to Mr. Pearce here. He then proceeded to hire her for the Atlas deal, specifically to rattle Chance and to dig up dirt on him .” I smack my fist into my palm. “I knew it! First in the phonebook, my ass, you little bastard !” Pearce is starting to look like an animal in a trap, eyes darting all over his office as if trying to find an escape route . “You can’t let them talk like that to me!” he shouts at Johnston. “Lies! It’s all lies! Do your job !” Johnston gives him a laconic shrug. “What would you have me do ?” “Arrest them !” “For what? Talking ?” Pearce takes a deep breath, obviously trying to gain control of himself. It’s indescribably sweet to see

him like this . “The Department of Defense can’t afford an embarrassment like this,” he says. “I’m going to talk to Dresden about this! He’ll have you fired !” “Actually, Major Dresden is under house arrest right now,” says Johnston. “He’s currently being investigated by the Defense Criminal Investigative Service. It’s a good thing we intercepted his communications with you when we did .” What is he talking about? I turn to Chance, who’s grinning from ear to ear . “I don’t understand,” Pearce jibbers. “You’re from DCIS! Why are you talking about them in the third person ?” Johnston looks at Frey. “I never said we were from DCIS. Did you ?” “I haven’t said a word since we got here,” Frey says, sounding bored . Johnston strolls over to Chance, pulling a key from his jacket pocket and using it to unlock the cuffs . “These have served their purpose, I think,” he says .

As soon as he’s free, Chance grabs me around the waist and pulls me into his arms. I grip his neck fiercely and just hang there, reveling in the warmth of his breath on my neck and his heartbeat next to mine . “Care to fill in your side of the story?” Johnston asks . Chance grins. “I can’t think of anything that would make me happier .”

Chapter One Hundred Fifty 7 6. CHANCE “It’s pretty easy to extrapolate from there,” I say. “Dacosta was the only other person who knew about the plan, which means he was a liability to the Arturo family. I doubt Tony would have let him live much longer, even if they hadn’t lucked into the opportunity to frame me for it .” Pearce looks like he’s on the verge of passing out now . “I didn’t have anything to do with that,” he croaks. “That was all Arturo !” Sara gives him a pitying look. “That much I believe,” she says. “You’re too spineless for wet work .” Johnston chuckles . “I like her,” he says to me . “Yeah,” I say. “Me, too. Anyway, they killed two

birds with one stone. They got rid of the only person who could hurt them and they framed me in one fell swoop .” Johnston flips his notebook closed and tucks it back into the breast pocket of his suit jacket . “You got anything you want to add to this, Mr. Pearce?” he asks . “Who are you?!” he babbles. “What are you doing here? None of this makes any sense !” “We’re the people who make sure that people like you and Tony Arturo don’t get away with what you were trying to get away with,” says Johnston. “That’s all you need to know .” Tre comes over to me and grabs my hand, pulling me into a hug . “Nice work,” I say. “Luckily you’re a good boy who visits his mother. Otherwise, we might not have been able to communicate .” Sara blinks at us. “What ?” “I gave Mom strategic info about what I was doing with Pearce, knowing she’s pass it along to Chance when he visited her,” says Tre. “He did the same to

me. It was the only way we could be sure nobody was monitoring the conversation. Mama wasn’t too happy with that last one, but she gave us the benefit of the doubt .” “That reminds me,” I say. “I owe her an explanation or I’ll never hear the end of it. We’ll have to come up with something that satisfies her but doesn’t tip over into classified territory .” Sara pounds Tre on the shoulder. “You asshole! You really had me going !” He grins. “Hey, punch Chance, he was the one who came up with it .” She looks at me. “Really ?” “Yup,” I say, wincing. “Stick to my good shoulder, okay ?” That’s when I notice Johnston glaring at us. “If you people are done …?” “Sorry,” I say. “We’re ready to cooperate in any way you need us .” “Absolutely,” says Sara . He nods and turns to Quentin. “Now, Mr. Pearce,

I’m afraid we’re going to have to take you with us. We have some things we need to talk about .” Pearce is hunched over, his breathing ragged. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was suffering the early stages of a panic attack . “I’m not going anywhere without my lawyer,” he pants . Johnston favors him with a sympathetic smile . “I’m afraid you have us confused with the police, Mr. Pearce,” he says. “That’s not us. We’re not going to charge you with anything. We just want to talk .” I shudder to think what these guys consider “just talking.” I imagine it has something to do with the room I woke up in earlier . Pearce leans over and props his hands on his desk to steady himself . “I think I’m having a cardiac event,” he grunts, clutching one hand to his chest . Sara is moving toward him before I can stop her . “I know CPR,” she says as she reaches the desk .

“Sara, no!” I say, but it’s too late . Pearce slides his other hand out from under the desk with the .45 automatic he pulled from the top drawer . “Arturo told me I might need this someday,” he says. “Looks like he was right .”

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-One 7 7. SARA Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could I have fallen for something like that ? Pearce’s arm is around my neck now, the barrel of the .45 pointed at my temple. He’s suddenly remarkably calm, though, which might work in my favor . “Don’t do something you can’t turn back from,” Johnston warns. “You can still get out of this with your life .” “You think I haven’t figured out who you are?” he says with odd detachment. “I go with you and suddenly my obituary is running in Forbes. The Empire Group’s head honcho, dead of a heart attack at age forty-five. A cautionary tale about working too hard .” “Let her go,” Chance growls, hands up in a surrender gesture. “You need a hostage, take me.

I’m the one you hate, not her .” “Actually, I pretty much hate you both equally,” he says mildly. “And she’s a lot weaker than you, so I’ll stick with the current arrangement, thanks .” I’ll show you weak, you little bastard … Frey takes a couple of tentative steps toward us. Pearce responds by pulling back the hammer of the pistol with his thumb . Chance looks me in the eye. We both know that proves Pearce knows nothing about the weapon. Cocking the hammer doesn’t make it easier to fire; they just do it in movies for dramatic effect . A .45 is a dangerous cannon in the hands of someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing. One slip and my head could end up erased completely . “All right,” says Johnston. “You’re running the show now. You tell me where it goes from here .” “I want a helicopter on the roof,” says Pearce. “It will take us to Empire’s private jet at O’Hare, and that will take me to the Maldives .” “Where there’s no extradition treaty with the US,”

Chance finishes for him . “I can be rich anywhere,” he says. “Doesn’t have to be on American soil. And after seeing what passes for the ‘good guys’ here, I’m quite happy to leave it behind .” My heart rate is still surprisingly even, despite the situation. I’m able to think rationally, just like Chance is always preaching. An idea comes to me . “Speaking of leaving things behind, what do you think Tony Arturo is going to think of you taking off and leaving him hanging out to dry for Dacosta’s murder ?” That should get him off balance . “Perhaps you should shut up about things you don’t understand,” he says, but there’s an edge to his voice now. I struck a nerve – he’s scared of Arturo . Johnston ends a call on his phone. “We can’t get a helicopter here for an hour,” he says. “It’s logistically impossible .” “That’s not good enough,” says Pearce. I wince as he digs the barrel of the .45 into my temple . “I can have one here in ten minutes,” Chance says.

“The Atlas chopper. I’ll fly it to the airport myself once it gets here. You have the love of my life as a hostage, so you know I’ll cooperate .” “Don’t do it, Chance,” he says. “I don’t want to risk you both. Let the Atlas pilot fly them …” “No,” says Pearce. “Mr. Talbot is right. He’s exactly who I want as the pilot .” Chance looks at Johnston, who shrugs. “It’s as good a plan as any I can come up with .” Chance gets on the phone with Atlas as Pearce talks to his own pilot, telling him to get the flight plan filed. Johnston is on his phone telling someone to contact O’Hare and tell them to green light the flight plan and clear a helipad for the Pave Hawk . Me, I’m just standing here with a gun to my head . A few minutes later and the logistics are taken care of. Now we just have to wait . “I’m curious,” Pearce says, still strangely calm after his outbursts earlier. “What really did happen with Atlas’s expansion? Where did the money actually come from ?” “Terrorists,” Chance says simply. “Sully and I came

across a terror cell in Mosul that was meeting with a financier from Jordan. He brought cash, we killed them all and took it .” Pearce blinks. “You’re joking .” “Not at all,” says Johnston. “It was a brilliant plan, and the perfect use for the money. Taking something that could have caused so much death and destruction and using it to help save lives .” “You act like you knew it all along,” Pearce scowls . “We did,” says Johnston. “We’ve been keeping an eye on our investment ever since .” “Wait a minute,” says Chance. “How did you do that? And how did you find out about the money in the first place ?” Johnston looks at Tre. “You want to tell them, or should I ?” I look at Chance just as he looks at me. We both look at Tre, our mouths hanging open . “What?” Tre says. “You didn’t honestly think I’d let you and Sully do that without reporting it, do you? That’s the kind of secret that gets people

killed, Chance. Once I explained it to… well, not these two specifically, but people like them, they agreed to give us some rope. See if we hung ourselves with it .” “And you didn’t,” says Johnston. “But it’s obviously in everyone’s best interests to keep that quiet, so Tre got in touch with us as soon as Empire made their offer to buy .” I can hear Pearce’s mouth opening and closing beside me, even though I can’t see it . “That’s fucking insane,” he says. “You know that, right ?” I try to keep the conversation going so that Pearce can’t gather his wits . “I don’t get it,” I say. “What would you have done if everyone had decided to sell and Empire took over ?” “We would have approached the new owners,” says Johnston. “Luckily, that didn’t happen, and we didn’t have to deal with Mr. Arturo. That would have been unpleasant to say the least. That’s another one we owe Mr. Talbot and Mr. Carter .” “Oh yes, they’re patriots!” Pearce snaps. “Real

American heroes, with their lies and secrets! But I’m the villain in all this! It boggles the mind .” I can feel the shakiness in his gun arm. He’s getting tired. That’s not good – tired people make mistakes . Chance’s phone buzzes. “The Pave Hawk is here. Danny Taylor is flying it. I’ll take over once he lands .” “Then let’s move,” says Pearce, shoving me forward. “I don’t have time to waste .” “How do you plan to explain the gun to everyone in the Empire office that we walk past?” I ask . “I won’t have to,” he says, stabbing at a panel on the wall of his office. A few moments later, what appears to be a bookshelf swings open . “A private elevator?” I say as he shuffles me inside and waits for Chance to join us . “Why bother working so hard to make money if you don’t set yourself above your fellow man ?” Tre gives us an intense look as the doors begin to slide shut .

“Good luck,” he says . The doors close and Chance’s hand grips mine as the elevator begins its slow climb to the roof .

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Two 7 8. CHANCE “I could just shoot the two of you right now,” Pearce muses as we pass the sixty-fifth floor. “Just poppop and it would all be over .” “You wouldn’t make it twenty yards without hostages,” I say, trying to keep him reasonable. It’s our only saving grace here – even though he seems to be rapidly losing his grip, at his core he understands the value of self-interest . “Besides,” says Sara. “You wouldn’t have the guts to do it, anyway .” My heart skips a beat as I lean in close . “You’re not helping,” I whisper . “Sorry,” she mumbles. “He’s threatening the man I love. I get a little protective .” “You’re also wrong,” says Pearce. “I could shoot you both. The longer I hold the gun, the more

comfortable the idea feels .” I believe him, and I squeeze Sara’s hand tighter to impress that on her, too . Finally, we reach the door to the top stairwell that will take us to the roof. Pearce waggles the gun at us to exit the elevator and then follows us up the stairs. As soon as we step out the door, I see the Pave Hawk idling on the helipad . I wave to Daniel, who opens the door and trots toward us under the driving wind from the slowing rotor blades. He takes his helmet off and hands it to me . “Here you go, sir,” he shouts, glancing at the .45 in Pearce’s hand. “Are you sure you’ll be all right ?” “Actually, there’s been a change of plans,” Pearce says. He turns the gun toward me and fires . “Chance!” Sara screams as Pearce yanks her back. “Oh my God, Chance !” I feel hot wetness spreading through the meat of my left deltoid as I stumble backwards. Daniel reacts instinctively, rounding on Pearce and reaching for the weapon, but Pearce is too quick .

“You’re going to be our pilot,” he says. “I’ve decided that Mr. Talbot can go fuck himself .” He turns back to me, leveling the pistol for another shot . “I’ve also decided that Ms. Bishop – oops! I mean Mrs. Talbot! Silly me! – is coming with me to the Maldives,” he hoots with a manic smile. “Maybe I’ll let her go after I get there. Maybe not. I’ll see how I feel when we land .” I strip off my shirt and wad it into a ball to press into my bleeding shoulder. It hurts like a sonofabitch, but I have to focus . “This isn’t the deal, Quentin,” I warn. “This is the CIA we’re talking about. You do anything to hurt Sara and there’ll be a hit squad knocking on your front door no matter where you end up .” “Who says I’ll hurt her?” he says, backing toward the chopper, Sara in tow. “Maybe I’ll just keep her as a souvenir. A final ‘fuck you’ to Mr. Chance Talbot .” Daniel glances at me, unsure what to do. I just nod . Then I see the fury in Sara’s eyes and I raise a hand to stop her. I know what she’s capable of, but I

don’t want her doing anything that could get her hurt. Or worse . I couldn’t stand that. There’s no way I can lose her again . I follow at a distance as they reach the helicopter and Daniel takes his seat at the controls. Pearce pulls himself and Sara into the back and sits them down, all the while keeping the gun on me . My consciousness takes a momentary catnap and I stagger to one side. Blood loss is having a serious effect on my ability to concentrate. I don’t have much time. I catch Daniel’s eye as he looks over, and I give him a seesaw motion with my hand . Pearce leaves the side door open as Daniel lifts the Pave Hawk off the helipad. One hand is pointing the gun at me, the other arm is wrapped around Sara’s throat . “It really is a shame,” he shouts over the din. “We could have done amazing things together if you weren’t such a fucking Boy Scout .” At that moment, Daniel tips the chopper sharply to the left, pitching Pearce and Sara forward. Just as I’d hoped, Sara takes advantage of the surprise to drive her left fist squarely into his groin. As he

doubles over, she breaks free of his grip and leaps down onto the roof, landing in a roll . My world shrinks to a single point as I watch Pearce recover his balance and level the gun at her head .

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Three 7 9. SARA “I have had just about enough of you, you stupid bitch!” Pearce screams . I look up just in time to see the barrel of the gun pointing down at me. I don’t think of my own death – I think of leaving Chance. Please God, I can’t do that. Not now . Suddenly Chance’s body is above me as the world explodes in my ear and my faces is covered in a splash of warmth . I stumble and manage to get my footing on the rooftop gravel. As I raise my hands, I can see the crimson stain of blood on them . Chance is in the back of the chopper, wrestling with Pearce’s gun hand. I feel my soul shatter as I catch sight of the flood of red on his back. He’s been shot again ! “Chance!” I shriek, sprinting toward the chopper as

Daniel tries to bring it back down . The two of them tumble out onto the gravel, Pearce rolling around on top of Chance. I bolt to my left and catch Pearce’s right hand in both of mine, taking control of the .45. A hard yank and it goes flying off to the ground . Chance staggers to his feet just as Pearce’s eyes seem to lose all focus in reality. He tackles Chance at a full run and drives him backwards . Toward the edge of the roof . “NO!” I scream. My legs feel like they’re running in molasses, like I’ll never possibly catch them . They stop at the raised lip that surrounds the building’s roof edge. Chance’s bleeding back is shoved against it, making him grimace in pain as he fights off Pearce’s attack . “How the mighty have fallen, eh, Chance?” Pearce hollers. “Mighty long way down !” He’s absolutely lost it now. I finally reach them and grab Pearce’s right hand in a wrist lock. But his manic state has sparked an almost superhuman strength in him, and he manages to break the hold, sending me stumbling backwards .

Next thing I know, he has my hair in his fist and he’s yanking me forward toward the edge . “Express elevator going down!” he yells . I try to keep from stumbling, but the disorientation of having my head yanked keeps me off balance. Suddenly I’m standing on the edge, looking out over the downtown Chicago skyline. Pearce uses my hair to pulls himself up so that he’s standing beside me . “Top of the world, Ma!” he hoots . He gives my hair one last yank as I grip onto his arm. If I’m going down, by God this fucker is coming with me . I feel the world tilt and realize I’m too far forward to make it back. I’m going over the edge. A wave of infinite sadness washes over me . I’m sorry, Chance. I’m so sorry . Then just as suddenly, I’m flying backwards . I open my eyes to see Chance leaning back against the lip, gripping onto the metal flashing for dear life. In his other hand is Pearce’s leg. The rest of Pearce is hanging over the edge upside down .

“Little help,” Chance grunts as his grip starts to loosen on the metal . I pitch forward and grab his arm, bracing my feet under the lip and heaving backwards with everything I have. Every muscle in my body seems to strain as I grind my teeth together with the effort . “Drop him!” I shout. “I can’t hold you both .” “AAARRRRRRGGHHH!” Chance releases the primal howl of a beast in a trap as he pulls himself forward with his good arm, using my leverage to help him get upright. Once he’s there, I grab his bleeding shoulder and heave backwards . As I do, I see Pearce’s flailing body swing over the lip. He lands hard on his back and flops there like a fish on dry land . At that moment, Daniel arrives and pulls Pearce up into a chokehold . “I’ve got him, sir!” he shouts . Chance weaves on his feet as I try to steady his bulk. He’s lost so much blood !

I sit him down on the gravel and turn to face Daniel and Pearce. My fist makes a satisfying crunch as I thrust it with all my strength into the bridge of Pearce’s nose. He drops to his back, out cold . “Ambulance!” I shout. “Now !” Daniel sprints over to the helicopter and fires up the radio as I stagger back to Chance. I try to press his sopping wet shirt against his wounds, but there’s so much blood. So much … I drop beside him and put my lips to his ear . “Don’t you fucking leave me, Chance Talbot,” I sob. “Do you hear me? You are not fucking allowed to leave me again !” I feel his palm against my cheek and grab it, holding on for dear life. He turns to place his own lips at my ear . “You’re… not the boss… of me,” he husks . I can’t help but giggle, which turns into sobs, which turns into giggles again . His head is cradled in my arms, my lips against his forehead, as a siren begins to wail in the distance .

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Four 8 0. CHANCE “It always looks awful until you get the blood washed off.” I say. “Then it’s like ‘what was I worried about ?’” Sara shakes her head. “Easy for you to say: you’re a combat veteran. I’m not used to seeing wounds close up .” I point to the screen of the heart monitor hooked up to my chest, showing a nice, steady blip . “See? Even the machine says I’m fine .” “Two .45-caliber slugs clipped you,” she says in a lecturing tone. “The one in the shoulder could have hit your lung. The one in your ribs could have hit your heart and your lung .” “Yeah,” I grin. “But they didn’t .” She lets out an exasperated sigh .

“You’re still the cocky little shit you were in high school, you know that ?” “I think you’ve got a crush on me .” “I’ve got a crush on your money, Bruce Wayne,” she giggles. “Keep getting yourself shot and I’ll be able to cash in and find a nice, normal husband .” “It’s a good thing I’ve got that kind of money,” I say. “These private hospital suites don’t come cheap .” From the doorway I hear: “Actually, Uncle Sam will pick up the bill for this one. It’s the least we can do .” I look over to see Johnston leaning against the door frame with a crooked grin. He’s changed out of the blue suit and into golf chic . Sara nods. “Agent .” “Ma’am,” he says. “How’s our boy ?” “I’ll live,” I say. “The real question is how is Pearce ?” He closes the door behind him carefully and strolls into the room, taking a seat next to Sara beside my

bed . “Mr. P is currently under sedation and suicide watch at a secure facility .” “What’s going to happen to him from there?” Sara asks . “Well, assuming he’s cooperative when he finally comes back to reality, we’ll have to set up a believable story, since he’s a something of a public figure. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say he’ll have a religious experience, give his personal fortune to charity, and then move to Thailand, where he can rest assured that someone will have a laser sight pointed at his head for the rest of his life .” Sara frowns. “So no jail time ?” “That’s not how this stuff works,” I say. “His silence is a free pass for him. If he goes to jail, he’ll talk. That’s not in anyone’s best interests .” She kisses my forehead. “So he gets away with almost killing the man I love .” “And the woman I love. We’re just going to have to live with it .”

“I’d tell you two to get a room,” Johnston smirks. “But you’ve already got one .” Sara finally smiles for the first time since he got here . “What about Tony Arturo and his nephew?” she asks . Johnston’s grin widens . “Keep an eye on the news for their names,” he says. “That’s all I’m going to say .” He might as well have said watch the obituaries. I don’t know how I feel about that, but it’s not my place to judge these guys . “Here’s the big question,” I say. “What about Atlas ?” “What about it?” he shrugs. “The sale is dead. As soon as you stop getting yourself shot, you should go back to work .” “And nothing changes ?” “Why would it? If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it .” This is too simple. I haven’t had an opportunity to talk to Tre about it yet – I still can’t believe he

managed to liaise with these guys for so long right under my nose – but it seems a little too good to be true . “No consequences, then? Sully and I stole millions .” Johnston cocks an eyebrow. “From whom? If the answer isn’t the American people, my superiors don’t give a shit. Besides, I think we both know that if the Company had gotten its hands on that money, it would have disappeared into some shitshow that failed miserably and ended up being argued over by a Senate oversight committee . “Instead, we got a shining example of compassion and resourcefulness. You can’t buy that kind of good PR .” Sara smiles and squeezes my hand . “If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think things were going to be okay,” she says . Johnston stands up and extends his hand. I take it and we shake . “That’s beyond my ability to guarantee,” he says. “All I can say is you won’t have any trouble from us .”

He shakes Sara’s hand and heads for the door . “One last thing,” he says, stopping in the doorway . “What’s that?” asks Sara . “Mazel tov on your wedding .” He drops a wink and walks out .

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Five 8 1. SARA “Can we make each other a promise?” I ask . I’m snuggled into Chance’s good shoulder in the hospital bed. His private suite actually has a double bed, complete with remote control. It also smells like lavender instead of antiseptic, which is nice. Having money is really cool . “Anything,” he says . “That we’ll always tell each other the truth from now on. About everything. Is that possible ?” He squeezes my shoulder with his good arm and kisses my forehead . “Yes,” he says. “Definitely .” “I can’t help but think that honesty would have saved us a lot of heartache over the years,” I say. “It all started with me not telling you about my mom that night I sent you away. Who knows what

would have happened if I’d just told you the truth? We wouldn’t have lost fifteen years together .” “Hey, I’m just as much to blame,” he says. “I should have given you the benefit of the doubt that night. But I took off instead and never looked back. I’ll always regret that . “But that’s in the past. I’m sorry for not letting you in on my plans this past week. If I had, I probably wouldn’t be lying here with these new entries in my scar collection .” I nod. “And I wish you’d told me you had your lawyers make me a partner in all your financials. That definitely would have helped me believe that you really did love me .” He chuckles softly. “Christ, what a pair we are. How did we go from being each other’s whole world as kids to distrusting each other so much ?” I think about it for a second. “I listened to other people, for one thing. I should have just listened to what my heart was telling me the whole time. I won’t that mistake again .” He sighs. “Reset ?” I hold up a pinky finger. He wraps his around it .

“Reset,” I say . We lie there silently for several minutes. My mind wanders to my work – it’s the first time I’ve had a moment to actually think about it for what seems like forever, even though in reality it’s been less than a month . I’ve got a couple of active cases. And, thanks to Pearce, enough money to run the place for a year, now that I don’t have to draw a salary anymore . “Penny for your thoughts,” Chance whispers . “Just thinking about Monday morning,” I say. “Going back to work .” “I’ve been thinking about that, too,” he says. “What if Atlas were to buy Bishop & Associates ?” I prop myself up on my elbow to look him in the eye . “Are you serious ?” “Why not? You and Grace do important work that aligns with the Atlas principles. It just makes sense to have them under the same umbrella. Imagine what you could accomplish with our resources .”

I can’t stop imagining it . “That would be… incredible,” I say . “I’ll talk to the board. Have to tell them about the deal going south, anyway. Might as well give them some good news while I’m at it .” That’s another thing I never considered through this whole crazy rollercoaster ride: the Sullivans . “What are you going to tell them about Pearce ?” He shrugs. “That he’s in a psychiatric ward after a nervous breakdown. In the end, he was a gibbering paranoiac with delusions. Everything he told them was a fantasy .” “Very convenient,” I nod. “Pearce did a lot of our work for us .” “How about we don’t talk about anybody else for a while?” he asks as I stroke his arm with my nails . “Fine by me,” I say. “What would you rather talk about ?” “How about nothing?” he says, turning over on his side and cupping my cheek in his palm . He winces as he moves and my heart jumps. “Are

you okay ?” “I’m better than okay,” he sighs as he brings his face to mine. “I’m pretty much perfect .” His lips touch mine and suddenly all the crazy shit from today is gone, replaced by his tongue touching mine, and the feel of his breath on my skin. All the pain, all the doubt, washed away like storm water down a drain. This is the truth right here. The only truth I ever need . Suddenly the door swings open and a young woman in scrubs dashes in . “Mr. Talbot, your heart monitor suddenly jumped – are you …?” He looks at her with a sheepish grin. “Sorry,” he says. “She tends to have that effect on me .” His eyes turn to mine. “She always has .”

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Six 8 2. CHANCE “Stupid ties,” I grumble, tugging on the knot at my throat. “I swear, if an attacker gets the upper hand because of this thing, I’m going to go down screaming: ‘I fucking told you so !’” Tre shakes his head. “Yeah, someone’s going to attack you at a party with your family. And you still can’t figure out why Johnston came to me instead of you? No wonder I went to work for Pearce .” “Just be thankful I paid you for that time,” I say with a grin. “Traitorous motherfucker …” “All right, that’s it .” He puts up his fists and we trade mock body blows like a couple of MMA fighters shadowboxing. I notice that, aside from a little stiffness, my shoulder is back to normal. The rib will take a bit longer to heal, but it’s not slowing me down . “Hey!” Mrs. C’s warning voice carries from across

the yard. “Don’t make me come over there and straighten you two out !” Agnes Sullivan grins beside her and wags a warning finger of her own . “What she said!” she calls. “You think you’re too old for an ass-paddling, you got another think coming !” The two giggle and clink their champagne flutes together . “Yes’m,” Tre and I drone in unison, scuffing our shoes against the grass like we’ve just been told to stop playing in the dirt . “So how much did you tell Moms about what happened?” I say in a low voice . “Just that you and I had an argument, and the rest was classified. She chewed on me pretty good for us scaring her like that, but you know her – she couldn’t carry a grudge in a bucket .” I grin and clap him on the shoulder. Maybe growing up the way I did wasn’t ideal, but at least I had them and Sara. Now I’ve got the Sullivans, too. And Grace. It took a while, but I finally got the family I always wanted. All I had to do was wait for

them to find me . As if reading my mind, Grace appears at my side and grabs my arm and Tre’s hand . “Time to get into position,” she says. “The music is about to start .” “All right,” I sigh as she pulls us along. “Although I still don’t see the point of this .” “The point is you robbed me of my sister’s wedding,” she says evenly. “And unless you want me to give you the stink-eye for the rest of your life, you’re going to do it again in front of me .” Tre shrugs. “You’re lucky Moms didn’t whip your ass. Agnes, too .” I sigh. “All right, but this tie is gone as soon as it’s over .” “The videographers are going to be filming you two all day,” says Grace. “The tie stays on .” I’m already starting to understand why some couples elope. This day is about everyone else, not us . Then Sara walks out of the house onto the back

patio, and my brain stops working . Her auburn hair is up, with two loose curls framing her face. The dress is ivory lace, open at the shoulders and bodice but with long gossamer sleeves that taper at her wrists. A train of tatted lace trails behind her, brilliant against the emerald of the late summer lawn . Her opal eyes catch mine and she bites her lip. I smile stupidly and wave, like a kid waiting for his prom date, and she giggles . The string quartet strikes up the opening strains of the wedding march as Kelsey, looking stunning in a plum-colored bridesmaid gown, takes Sara’s arm and leads her through the yard to the pergola where I’m standing with Tre. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grace, hands clasped in front of her, practically bouncing with glee . Tre leans in and whispers: “About time, brother .” “Yeah,” I say. “But better late than never .” I stare, transfixed, as she lets go of Kelsey and takes her place opposite me on the grass. Sara of the storeroom, the queen of my heart, takes my hand in hers and suddenly I get what this is all about. It’s a celebration of us . Of everything we

went through to get to this moment. In spite of everything, we made it. We found our way back to each other and we won . The pastor Mrs. C invited talks about dearly beloved, and other things I barely hear. All I’m aware of are her eyes and her smile, until it’s time to say the words to each other again. I meant them the first time at the courthouse, but they have a whole new meaning to me now . And when we finally kiss, it’s like the very first time, all over again .

Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Seven 8 3. SARA “Do you see what I see?” I whisper . I subtly point to Tre and Grace, slow-dancing on the patio as Taylor Swift’s Wildest Dreams plays out of the DJ’s speakers. They sway like kids at the prom as the setting sun casts an orange glow around them . “Well, they have been spending a lot of time together working on bringing your company into the fold,” Chance says . I grin. “The feckless flake and the button-down business nerd .” “Stranger things have happened. We’re living proof .” “Amen to that,” I say, laying my head on his shoulder . Agnes appears at the table with a half-full bottle of

champagne. Judging by her grin, she’s feeling no pain . “Aggie!” I say brightly. “Having fun ?” “A riot!” she giggles, taking a seat beside us. “We really needed this after all that nonsense with Quentin Pearce .” “That we did,” says Chance. “Time to move on to the next chapter for the company .” Agnes leans in and pats the back of my hand . “We’re thrilled to have you on board with Atlas,” she says, her eyes misty. “And so happy that Chance found you. I sometimes wondered if we’d ever see the day when he found the one who made him whole .” She turns to Chance. “And you, you big lug. Patrick would be so proud of you right now. He’s here with us right now, I can feel him .” Her tears are flowing freely now; I’m fighting my own, too . “I never doubted you, Chance,” Agnes says. “I told Quentin Pearce that I didn’t believe him. That you were as much a member of the Sullivan family as

any of us. I just wish he’d never stepped foot into the Atlas boardroom .” Chance smiles and shakes his head . “Actually,” he says, “I owe him a debt I can never repay .” Her eyes widen. “You’re joking. What could you possibly owe to that little cretin ?” He looks at me, and in that look I see the boy inside the man. The hero’s heart that captured me all those years ago. This brave, smart, incredible man who risked everything for love and won. My heart has never felt so full as it does right now . “I wouldn’t have this lady back if it wasn’t for him,” he says. “And to me, that’s everything .” “Hey!” says a voice from my right. I turn to see Mrs. C sitting down next to me. “No crying without me! What are we crying about, anyway ?” “Life,” I say, kissing her cheek . “That’ll do it every time,” she says with a chuckle . *** “I wonder if everyone is still there .”

Chance glances at his watch. “Probably. Chuck from next door sort of gave the party a second wind when he and Kathy showed up .” I can’t help but giggle. “It’s hilarious that he thanked you for stealing the car .” “Don’t tell his wife that. It was her car .” He finally strips his tie off with a theatrical flourish . “Free at last from the hangman’s noose,” he says, wasting no time stripping off his shirt as well . His naked, rippling torso suddenly makes me feel seriously overdressed . I raise my leg onto the bed. The hem of my dress falls to one side, giving him a glimpse of what’s underneath . “You already have my garter,” I purr. “How about the rest ?” My heart skips a beat as he grins like a wolf and drops beside me on the bed. His hands are instantly behind my back, drawing my zipper down. As the shoulders drop, he grasps the wrists of both sleeves

in his fingers and pulls . He kisses each bare breast as they pop free of the falling dress, sending a thrill straight to the junction of my thighs. He strips off the rest of the dress with an unceremonious tug, leaving me naked except for my stockings and panties . “Two can play at that game,” I say, grabbing his belt and yanking it down, along with his pants . He’s already rock hard under his boxers, igniting my fire even more. His eyes beg me to finish the job, so I pull them down and free his throbbing cock . As I do, I hear the old bed groan underneath our weight. Suddenly I feel even more heat between my legs. What is it about this place that just gets my motor revving so hard I can barely stand it ? Chance pulls back the electric blue coverlet and lies down, his throbbing shaft standing at full attention, waiting for me . “This may be the Rest-All,” he says with a grin. “But you’re not getting any rest tonight, Mrs. Talbot .” I glide down on top of him, keeping my stockings

on, until my slick opening is aligned with the tip of his rod. My body trembles as I guide him all the way in . “Neither are the neighbors,” I sigh . *** L ater, when I’m a puddle of jelly after countless orgasms, I lie in Chance’s arms on the old bed, listening to the whine and clank of the decrepit air conditioner. I suppose the sound would be annoying to pretty much everyone else, but to me it’s the soundtrack to our crazy, passion-filled days on the run. Before the bad stuff started . I choose to remember just the good stuff. The excitement, and the love, and how good it felt just to be together, whether in the rec center storeroom or a tiki hut in Bora Bora or the Rest-All Motel . The shadows of the past are just that: shadows. Yes, they’re dark, but they’re illusions. There’s nothing to them . They can’t hurt us . “Mrs. Talbot,” Chance says sleepily . “That’s my name, don’t wear it out. Seriously.

Every other part of me is worn out; my name is all I have left .” His chuckles are like music to me in the dark . “I’m never going to let you go again,” he whispers sleepily. “You know that, don’t you ?” I snuggle in closer. “I know .” “Good.” As I fade into sleep, I see my mother’s face in my mind’s eye . She’s smiling. Finally .

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EPILOGUE: SARA “E lafins!” Ava manages to see the herd from her perch on top of the bus before I do. She has her daddy’s pilot eyes . “That’s right, sweetie. And what does the elephant say ?” She hangs a chubby arm from her face like a trunk and makes a trumpeting sound that’s utterly exceptional for an almost-three-year-old, if I do say so myself . Rambeau, our guide, points toward the herd . “Look close,” he says. “See? A baby !” Ava’s face lights up as she sees it bumbling alongside its mother . “Baby!” she wails. “Mommy, a baby ! ”

Chance picks her up and holds her over his head so she can get a better view. The elephants are pretty much all there is to look at in this particular part of the park. There are a few trees and a watering hole, but for the most part it’s scrub and brown dust as far as the eye can see . “Make sure you tell Uncle Tre when we get back,” Chance says. “He and Auntie Grace are going to wish they’d come with us .” I imagine they had more pressing things to do, considering it’s been less than twenty-four hours since Tre popped the question. He thought the Nairobi sunset would be the perfect backdrop. I could have told him that Grace would have said yes if he’d put a Lifesaver on her finger in a bus station, but why ruin his fun ? Chance’s satellite phone begins to warble on his hip. He glances at me with raised brows – sat phone almost always means work . “Talbot,” he says, extending the antenna . Ava’s eyes widen. “Gamma Bess? Daddy, I talk Gamma Bess ?” I pick her up and plop her down on my knee .

“Honey, Grandma Bess is sleeping, remember? It’s nighttime back home .” “Night time ?” “All right, call Blake at the State Department. I need an AW101 ready to go as soon as possible. They should have at least two on standby at Moi Air Base .” I see the look in his eyes and sigh. Safari is over for now, at least . Chance kneels on the floor of the rooftop viewing area and plants a kiss on Ava’s cheek . “Sorry, honey, we’re going to have to say bye to the elephants. Mommy and I have to go to work .” She nods. Not even three yet and she’s already used to us dropping her with Grace and taking off. Sometimes I wonder if this is really the ideal life I picture a few years ago . Chance talks to Rambeau, who radios the driver. In less than a minute, we’re on our way back to the resort where Tre and Grace are holding down the fort . “What is it this time?” I ask as I strap Ava into her

seat. “Something local, obviously. Or southern Europe? Please don’t say Middle East .” He shakes his head. “Northeast Tanzania. Localized earthquake just south of the border with Kenya .” “How much good can we do with a transport chopper?” I ask . “That’s just it – the quake is centered in a sparsely populated area. But it’s left a girls’ school collapsed and cut off by a chasm that opened up a few hundred yards away. They need a copter to get in and get them out ASAP .” “Why can’t the Tanzanians take care of it themselves ?” Chance leans close to me so that Ava can’t hear . “It’s an all-girls school. In rural Tanzania .” Translation: they’re not a priority. I nod my understanding . “Goin’ to school?” Ava asks . “That’s right,” I say brightly. “Daddy and I are going to see some girls and say hello .” I just hope we can get there in time .

*** C hance points to Mt. Longido in the distance . “It’s beautiful,” I shout into the microphone . The Leonardo AW101 is a huge helicopter, capable of transporting at least twenty-five people. But it’s incredibly loud and handles like a hippo on roller skates, judging by how Chance is handling it. But it’s the perfect tool for the job, and the Kenyan government was nice enough to loan it to us after some cajoling by a few State Department diplomats . Below us is the opposite of beautiful – a huge crack that’s opened along the fault line. The school is cut off on that side for miles in either direction. The other side backs onto a series of low forested hills . “Why can’t they evacuate there?” I shout, pointing to the hills . Chance is quiet for a little too long . “Chance?” “That might be a problem,” he bellows . “Why?”

“There’ve been reports of rebels in the hills .” Oh, that’s just fucking great . “Why do I let you get me into this shit?” I yell . He grins. “Because you love me ?” “All I know is it’s a good thing you’re rich .” A few minutes later, we’re over the school. The sound of our approach draws a group of girls out of the remains of the collapsed brick buildings into the courtyard. They wave their arms wide, which is a good sign. At least the injuries appear minor . Chance brings the bird down like a wounded goose and I slide the panel door open. I jog to where the girls are standing, hollering and crying. I show them the American flag patch on the shoulder of my Atlas flight suit . “We speak English!” a girl of about sixteen shouts . “Awesome,” I say. “How many of you are there ?” “Twenty-three,” she says. “Our teacher is hurt, but the rest of us can walk .” She leads me into the most intact building and

shows me her teacher. The woman, nursing what appears to be a broken arm, is probably only a few years older than her students . “We’ve come to get you out of here,” I say. “Can you walk ?” “I think so.” The others help her to her feet. “Who are you ?” “I’m with Atlas, ma’am,” I say. It always sparks a thrill of pride . “God bless you,” she says as we head for the door . Here’s hoping . Outside, Chance is herding the girls into the back of the chopper and trying to make them comfortable. He’s kept the rotors running . “Last ones,” I say with a nod . He nods back and gets the rest of them seated. As the teacher boards, she turns to face me . “I cannot thank you enough – ” Suddenly her eyes are saucers. I turn to see what she’s looking at .

Behind us are three young men in camouflage fatigues and red berets, pointing assault rifles in our direction . Chance sweeps me behind him, shielding me with his body . “Get inside!” he barks . “You get inside! I’ll deal with these guys .” He goggles at me. “Are you insane? No way !” “You’re the only one who can fly this monster! I sure as hell can’t !” He shakes his head. “There has to be another way !” “Not that I can see !” He scowls at me for a full ten seconds before he finally nods . “Be careful!” he shouts, locking his eyes on mine. “If you get yourself killed, I will never forgive you !” I give him the thumbs-up. “Roger that .” We stare at each other for a moment,

communicating telepathically. It’s not the first time we’ve faced danger together. Each time could be the last time. It makes us appreciate our time together even more . I break eye contact and trot toward the soldiers, who flinch and level their guns . “Bring them back!” the one in the center hollers. “Now! No fucking Americans !” Now that I’m closer, I can see just how young they are. Probably recent rebel recruits who had nowhere else to go. At least, I hope that’s the case . “We’re taking them,” I say. “That’s a fact. If I have to fight you, I will, but those girls are coming with us .” The one on the left points his barrel in the air and fires off a dozen automatic rounds. Somehow, I manage not to flinch. I can practically feel Chance having a conniption behind me . I look the kid square in the eye . “I’m still here,” I say. “Those girls have never done anything to you. They’re trying to make something of themselves at this school. They want to make things better for your country. Can you care for

them until help arrives ?” The three exchange confused glances . “Do you have enough food and water for all of them ?” Still no response. I fix the middle one with a glare that I hope looks motherly. It’s my only hope . “What if they were your sisters?” I ask. “What would you do ?” They stare at me for a long moment. The middle one lowers his gun and barks at the other two to do the same. The one on the left keeps his up for a few more seconds before the middle one shoves the barrel down himself . I nod to him. “Thank you .” “Don’t come back,” he says . “Roger that,” I say and jog toward the helicopter . *** “A re you fucking crazy?!” Grace blurts . I cover Ava’s ears, but it’s too late .

“Fuck,” she says absently, playing with her doll. “Fuck fuck fuck .” I glare at my sister before leaning down to my daughter’s ear . “That’s a silly word,” I say. “You should forget it. Auntie makes up words sometimes .” Grace’s cheeks are rosy with embarrassment and frustration . “Mommy’s right, sweetie,” she says. “That’s a silly word. I’ve already forgotten it .” “Fuck!” Ava says brightly . Tre gives me a sheepish look and plucks Ava out of my lap . “How about you come with Uncle Tre and we play a game?” he says . She brightens and wraps her arms around his neck. “Yay !” Grace composes herself as I watch the two of them go into the adjoining room of our suite. She runs a hand down her face, inadvertently showing off the glittering diamonds embedded in the platinum band

on her left third finger . “I’m sorry,” she says. “But seriously?! That was incredibly irresponsible .” Chance takes a seat beside me and sips his scotch . “I felt the same way,” he says. “At first. But Sara made a good point: I had to fly the chopper .” Grace looks at us like we’ve each grown another head . “Yeah, or you could have left them there .” “That wasn’t an option,” I say. “You know that as well as I do .” She looks at the floor, blood still in her cheeks . “Yeah,” she mutters. “I know. But still …” “Still nothing. Each of those girls has a future because of Atlas .” Chance lays a hand on top of mine . “Correction,” he says. “Each of them has a future because of you .” Suddenly Grace’s arm is around my neck and she’s

hugging me fiercely. When she whispers in my ear, there are tears in her voice . “I can’t lose you,” she says. “From now on, don’t tell me when you do stuff like that, okay ?” “Deal,” I say, wiping away a tear of my own . *** “W hat’s the all-fired hurry?” I ask as Chance closes the bedroom door behind him . Ava is with Tre and Grace at the resort pool, working off their dinner in the blazing lateafternoon heat. I was planning to join them when Chance pulled me in here . He turns the deadbolt in the door and draws the curtains closed . “What are you doing ?” Next thing I know his lips are pressing hard against mine, forcing my mouth open to accept his probing tongue. His fingers fumble my bikini top open, releasing my breasts into his waiting hands . “Chance,” I gasp, breaking lip contact. “What – ” His mouth is back on mine before I can finish. I

wrap my arms around his neck as his lips begin to move south, until they land on my throat. My motor has gone from idle to overdrive in the space of five seconds . I match his passion, pulling his t-shirt over his head and running my fingers along his chest, tracing the scar tissue there. It’s a ritual I have, to always remind myself of how precious – and fragile – our lives really are . His lips find my breasts as his hands work my bikini bottoms off of my ass and send them dropping to the bedroom floor. I return the favor with his cargo shorts as I release his ramrod cock and grab it tightly. It’s hot and throbs at my touch . “Unh,” he groans in my ear . He grabs my ass and lifts me off the floor, carrying me to the big four-poster bed. When he drops me onto it, I actually bounce . His body covers me a second later, grabbing my hands in his and pulling them up over my head. Rock-hard muscle presses down against my breasts and belly as the tip of his shaft presses against my wet slit . “Oh, Chance,” I moan as I lift my wide-open legs

and wrap them around his hips . There’s no foreplay here, only animal lust. An instant later and he’s fully inside me, prompting my first quivering orgasm . He holds me tightly as I tremble through it, nibbling on his shoulder, floating on a cloud of desire . “I can’t wait,” he pants in my ear. His hips start to move, thrusting deeply, quickly, until I have to prop my hands against the headboard to keep from being driven right into it . It’s never been like this. We’ve gotten really good at fucking over the last few years, but this is something else. As if the future of the human race depends on us both coming as fast and as hard as we can . He picks me up and turns me so that I’m straddling him, his hands pulling my legs apart as far as they’ll go. My breathing turns into animal grunts as he lifts his hips, driving as fast and as deep as he can go . The normal pooling of pleasure is a tidal wave now, breaking the dams and overflowing the levees until my entire body becomes a conduit for it. As it overtakes me, I collapse on top of him holding on for dear life until his cannon finally goes off inside

me, making my toes curl up until they hurt . The waves keep on breaking against me, over and over, forcing my whole body to spasm with delight. I can’t catch my breath, and suddenly I fear I might actually somehow come myself into a stupor . Finally the ecstasy begins to ebb, slowly, setting off a few aftershocks that make me grip Chance’s shoulders until they pass. My breath huffs in his face, blowing his hair back from his forehead in great, heaving gusts . “My God,” I finally gasp. All my strength is gone. “What… what the hell… was that ?” His chest is heaving underneath me. His effort was so much more than mine; I can’t imagine how he’s still able to speak . “I had to feel you,” he pants. “Had to know… you were still here. Not just a dream .” I use the last of my strength to cover his mouth with mine and give him a long, deep, wet kiss, until I have to stop to catch my breath . “I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m here .” “Don’t ever fucking do that again,” he breathes .

I snuggle against him and lay my head next to his, my grinning lips against his ear . “You’re not the boss of me,” I whisper . *** “A re you okay?” Grace asks as Chance and I descend the steps into the pool. “You look a little tired .” I bite my tongue to keep from grinning like a fool. Chance gives me a look that says he’s doing the same . “It’s been a long day,” I say, dipping below the surface up to my chin . “Mommy!” Ava hoots. She’s paddling toward me with her inflatable water wings and splashing up a storm . “Is that a fish?” Chance says, scooping her up. “Look! I caught a fish !” “No!” she shrieks, but she’s giggling like a maniac. “Imma girl !” Tre glides over beside Grace and slides an arm around her .

“Everything okay?” he asks . “Couldn’t be better,” Chance says . “Good. We had something we wanted to talk to you about .” “Go ahead,” I say, wrapping my arm around Chance’s neck so that he’s flanked by his two girls . “We were wondering – ” “If you would stand up for us at our wedding!” Grace finishes . Chance and I exchange a glance . “I don’t know,” he says, frowning. “Do I have to wear a tie ?” Tre chuckles as Grace and I roll our eyes. “Ah ah ha ha ha,” we mock laugh . Ava seems to sense that we’re ganging up on him, so she gives him a peck on the cheek . “Daddy,” she says, as if summing up her argument . Chance responds with a raspberry against her neck, sending her into a fit of giggles .

“Of course we will,” I say as Ava splashes off into the pool . “You know what this means, right?” Tre says to Chance. “We’re going to be brothers-in-law .” Chance sighs. “Well, I guess you can’t choose your family,” Then he brightens. “Oh, wait a minute! Yes, you can !” “And you chose well,” I say . Grace looks me in the eye. “You have to promise me that you’re not going to pull another stunt like you did today. I don’t want to have to find another matron of honor .” “Sorry, sis, I can’t promise that. What I can promise is that I’ll always be careful. Just like Chance .” She frowns. “I guess that’s all I can ask for .” The sun finally dips below the tower building of the resort, offering us some very welcome shade . With the glare gone, I can see Tre and Grace tossing Ava back and forth, to her utter delight . “It’s interesting that we saw an elephant family

today,” I muse . Chance’s arm is around my waist under the water. He pulls me tight and puts his lips next to my ear, prompting a delicious shiver as I flashback to our afternoon delight . “Yeah?” he whispers. “Why’s that ?” “They’re matriarchal animals,” I say. “I read once that all of the females in the herd will help raise the babies and protect them from danger, regardless of blood ties .” I turn to face him. “Sound familiar ?” He smiles and pulls me close. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I see a tear in the corner of his eye .

Part IV

The Chase One virgin . Two weeks . Twenty billionaires . She can run, but she can't hide ... The Chase. It takes place every year. If you're not invited, you'll never even know it exists . It's a game - a Chase - entered only by the world's richest and most powerful men . And one, lone, solitary woman . A virgin . Winner takes all. Literally . But our prey isn't as innocent as she seems - she's CIA trained, and kick-ass strong . And she gets paid $250,000 for every day she

evades capture . Sounds simple, right ? If only it was . When I entered, it was because I was bored of easy lays and easier women . But suddenly Cassie is back . She's the girl who stood me up at prom - who I've spent my entire life proving wrong . And the girl I never heard from again . But Cassie's not a girl anymore. She's most definitely a woman . And maybe she's not just the one who got away ...

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Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Nine 1 . CARSON I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down at the 1,500-foot drop just beyond my toes and thinking very hard about jumping off . Under other circumstances, it would be breathtaking: the Italian Alps positioned against a clear azure sky, the dappled surface of Lake Garda in the distance, the red tile roofs of the villas in the town. If I had binoculars, I’d be able to make out the jagged fingers of granite pointing up from the valley floor below me. As it is, I have to imagine them. I’ll be seeing them up close soon enough . It’s not a situation your average thirty-year-old billionaire playboy finds himself in, I’ll admit. One might well ask why a guy with more money than he could ever spend, more women than he could ever sleep with, and less body fat than most men could ever hope for, is standing here, of all places, contemplating what I’m contemplating .

The answer is simple: I’m bored out of my fucking mind . The wind caresses my cheeks and I turn my face up to the diamond-hard summer sun. I’m starting to sweat under this outfit, which is kind of gross. No point in putting this off any longer . I fill my lungs with clear mountain air and leap off the cliff. I have to make sure I clear the outcropping right below me—wouldn’t want to clip it and end up going ass-over-teakettle all the way down. That would make for an incredibly ugly corpse . As I fall, my body naturally tilts forward into a dive position. I travel about forty feet in an instant, then I spread my arms and legs wide. Time to embrace the inevitable . The motion allows the billowing fabric under my arms and between my legs to catch the ambient air, slowing my descent velocity by about eighty percent and pushing me forward, away from the mountainside and toward the lake. The so-called “wingsuit” carries me on natural air currents at a 2.5:1 angle of descent. That means that for every meter I drop, I gain two and a half meters moving forward. That’s important math, because I’m going to attempt something ridiculously dangerous, and

I’d really prefer to live through it . As I glide over the rooftops of Sirmione, the town on the south shore of Garda, I lower my arms several inches to reduce my angle. Easy? Hell no – it’s tougher than it sounds when you have several thousand pounds of air rushing up at you . In the distance I can see Isola del Garda, the island where St. Francis of Assisi founded a monastery in the thirteenth century. I doubt old Frankie would approve of my current lifestyle, but I’ve got more important things to worry about . The surface of the lake is rapidly filling my field of vision, but my goggles are polarized to keep the reflected light from blinding me. I need every sense on high alert right now to make sure that I don’t come in at the wrong angle. Too steep and I risk smashing head-first into the immense stopping power of the water. Too shallow and I’ll come in too hot, which means I might not be able to slow myself down before I hit the side of the boat like a bug on a windshield . Timing here is everything . Still, it would be a hell of a way to go, wouldn’t it ? The coolness of the water kisses my face as I draw

parallel with the surface of the lake. Raising my arms again lowers me closer to the skin of the lake. If it wouldn’t completely fuck up my trajectory, I’d reach down and run my fingers through the cool wetness . I feel like Superman . In the distance, my target comes into view: a catamaran anchored about a mile off shore. As I draw closer, and lower to the lake, I finally make out silhouettes of people on the deck – still tiny, like ants . According to the incredibly detailed math that went into my computer simulation, that’s my cue to drop one last time. I silently thank every crunch and situp as my abs strafe the surface of the water, providing the friction I need to slow my forward momentum and begin my long stop . After several seconds, I lower my legs and arms, and the water pulling against the fabric yanks me backwards, hard . My teeth grind as the bow of the catamaran fills my field of vision, growing until I can see Maksim Orlov grab his head in his hands and hear him shout “Look out, you idiot !”

The stress on my joints is painful, but I can handle it . Just . I don’t spend hours a day in my gym with a giant Swedish personal trainer just to rock a tank top and dance to Europop. That’s just a side benefit. No, I’m all about functional strength. And really, what could be more functional than wingsuiting off a thousand-foot cliff ? I come to a full stop no more than ten feet from the boat. I release the handles on my arm wings to keep them from dragging me down into the depths and pull my goggles up onto my helmet . My breathing is already starting to slow and I can feel the adrenaline ebbing out of me, leaving me faintly cold, even in the Italian summer heat. I grasp the rungs of the ladder and pull myself up, knowing that within minutes, the thrill of the experience will be all but gone. As usual . It seems the further I push myself, the more I have to keep pushing to maintain the excitement . “You are the crazy son of my bitch!” Maksim hoots as he clasps my hand and pulls me onto the deck. As always, his comical Russian accent and mangled

English make me grin. And, as always, he’s surrounded by girls . The latest additions to his posse are bikini-clad British tourists we met at a club last night, looking to act decidedly un-British for a couple of weeks. They swarm me, wide-eyed, passing me around in a hug train . “That’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” says Joanna, a statuesque blonde who’s straining the confines of her bathing suit. She’s a little unsteady on her feet, thanks to the cosmopolitan in her hand and the baking afternoon heat . “The most incredible thing so far ,” I correct her as I shrug out of the wingsuit. Underneath is a Speedo and nothing else. “Wait until later tonight .” Her eyes run down my body and widen as they reach the bulge under my suit. She smiles . On to the next thrill . Sigh.

Chapter One Hundred Sixty 2 . CASSANDRA Every instinct in me is screaming out not to do this . I spent years training in the bowels of a faceless building in Langley to resist exactly this kind of situation. I’ve kept my wits through sleep deprivation, pharmaceutical interrogation, physical torture. Every time, I’ve come out the other side, wiped the sweat off my brow and said: “Is that all you’ve got ?” But this is something else, something much more insidious. It comes to you as a friend, lulling you into a false sense of security. I’m here for you. I won’t hurt you. You love me . It doesn’t love me, though . Sure, it wants me to give in, to feel the brief surge of pleasure. It doesn’t talk about the crushing shame that follows, the hours of torment as you realize what you’ve done. That you can’t undo it,

no matter how hard you try . Do I have what it takes to resist this time? They just keep coming at me. I’ve given in every time – does it even matter any more? At this point, do I even want to resist ? That’s just it: I don’t. God help me, I don’t want to resist . Fuck it , I tell myself, plucking the little spoon from the paper cup and sliding it into my eager mouth . “Jesus Christ, that’s the best one so far,” I mutter through a mouthful of ginger-spiced carrot-cake ice cream. As I do, flecks of cream fly onto the lace napkin I’m holding under the treat . Tricia Clarke folds her arms across her ample chest. “That’s the last of them,” she says. Her strangely masculine voice always sounds odd coming out of her mouth, all full lips and cherry lipstick. You might actually mistake her for a guy if you couldn’t see her Meghan Trainor body . “Finally,” I say, placing the napkin on the counter. “I’m going to have to run a marathon to work off all of those, you crazy bitch .” Tricia rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you should probably

call the cops, the way I held that gun to your head. You know I need another set of taste buds when I’m working on new recipes. And if you want to be a partner in this thing, those taste buds, for better or worse, are going to be yours.” She sweeps her hands down her body like a game show hostess showing off a new car. “Besides, this doesn’t just happen, you know .” We look sternly into each other’s eyes for a full second before we both lose it . God, this feels good. Tricia and I laugh so easily together that it’s hard to believe we’ve only known each other a few months. I’ll never forget it the first time we met at yoga class: she was on the mat in front of me, doing downward dog, and our eyes met through her legs . It was just so utterly absurd that we both burst out laughing, like we’re doing now. After class we met up for a glass of wine, and she had me in stitches . “What if I’d farted at that exact moment?” she’d asked, wide-eyed. She was totally serious. The look on her face made me howl so hard I actually started to worry that I might wet myself . We finally settle down and I take a deep breath to clear my head from the laughter and the sugar

overload. Tricia pours us both a coffee and we sit down at a table. It’s early afternoon, just after lunch, so the shop is deserted. Business will pick up in a couple of hours as people drop in for their afternoon fixes of banana splits and root beer floats, but for now, we have Patty’s to ourselves . “Why Patty’s?” I ask, savoring the bitterness of the coffee after the sweetness of the ice cream samples. “I mean, I get your name is Patricia, but I’ve never heard you call yourself Patty .” “Irony,” she says. “My whole life I wanted to be called Tricia, but everyone – teachers, relatives, strangers – always called me Patty. I finally stopped answering to anything but Tricia when I was a teen. They finally got the message .” I can relate. My given name is Cassandra, but I’ve always been Sandra. My father always told me it sounded more dignified and serious than Cassie, and he’s all about being serious . Only one person ever called me Cassie, and I doubt I’ll ever see him again . “I’ll tell you what: I’m going to put your preferred name on the line of ice cream,” I say, cocking an eyebrow. “How do you feel about Tricialicious ?”

“I like it,” she says. “Then again, if you’re willing to drop millions into this pipe dream, you can call it Sandra’s Snatchtastic Sherbet, for all I care .” Another laugh ambush. That’s why I love Tricia so much: she helps me decompress. Around her, it’s easy to forget about what I used to do for a living, if only just for a little while . “That might be a little too New Yawk for the masses,” I chuckle. “Remember, we’re going to be shipping ice cream all over the country .” “Have you got any details yet?” she asks. “I mean, if anyone can pull it off, it’s you. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever known .” I nod, ignoring the compliment. I’ve been hearing it all my life, to the point where I don’t even hear it when people point it out. Like my red hair . “I’ve got my eye on a factory in the Bronx,” I say. “It’s cheap and can easily be retrofitted. It’ll be tight, but it’ll work. Then we’ll have to figure out supply chain, delivery, yadda yadda .” “And all you have to do is come up with a few million dollars in venture capital,” she says, sipping her coffee. “Piece of cake .”

“That’s going to be the easy part,” I say. “You just worry about the production side of things. We’ll have to make thousands of those little pint containers if we want to take on Ben and Jerry .” “Pft!” she sneers. “Ben and Jerry can bite me .” As we descend into laughter again, the money is foremost in my mind. Tricia probably thinks this is just a pipe dream, but it will be easy to get . Easy money always comes with a price, though. And in this case, it’s about as steep as you can get. The question is, am I willing to pay it ? I have to be. I’ve come too far to back out now .

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-One 3 . CARSON I’m always amazed at how hard some Europeans have to work to have a good time. I mean, threequarters of the people on the dance floor look like they’re in the middle of a physics exam instead of gyrating to a thumping techno beat . You’re in Milan, for crying out loud. Relax . I suppose that’s easy for me to say as I tip the third empty bottle of ’88 Dom Perignon into the silver bucket next to our table, signaling our waitress to bring another. I never see the bills that accumulate on my platinum American Express – they go straight to accountants I’ve never met . I’ve burned money like it’s firewood ever since I sold my company three years ago and I still haven’t even made a dent in the principal from the sale . I did the math once: assuming I live to the age of ninety – so another sixty years – I’ll have to spend

upwards of a hundred grand a day to go through all of it. Of course, the money isn’t just sitting in the bank; it’s invested all over the place, bringing in very respectable returns, so you can probably up that number to $250,000. Sure, it’s easy to spend a quarter-million dollars in one day. Anyone could do it . But spending that much every single day for the rest of my natural life? That’s a whole other ball game . Our server sashays over with two more bottles of champagne and places them on the table in front of Maks and me. The British girls are busy giggling and watching people on the dance floor . The server, a black-haired woman with chestnut eyes and a neck like a swan’s, leans in close to my ear, filling my nose with some exotic floral scent. I assume that’s how she spent some of the $5,000 tip I left for her last night. Her lips tickle the skin of my earlobe . “Compliments of the house,” she says, raising her voice despite the closeness. It’s the only way to be heard over the driving thump of the music. I smile ruefully. I’ve just been comped about $4,000 worth of booze .

Even when I try to spend it all, I can’t . Maksim pours the contents of his bottle into the ladies’ glasses. “You pour your own, big payer,” he says to me . “Big spender,” I correct, shaking my head . “What is difference?” he says, consternation on his face. “All it means is same thing .” I chuckle . Sometimes it irks me that he never picks up a check – it’s not like he can’t afford it, his father is a billionaire – but I never actually get mad at the guy . One thing about Maksim Orlov: if he’s around, it’s a party. He attracts people like moths to a flame. He’s always got a grin on that swarthy, stubbly face, and he’s always up for a drink, or a concert, or a swim in the ocean, or jumping out of a plane. He probably could have joined me on my wingsuit escapade this afternoon, but he’s also incredibly lazy . He’s also got a knack for finding the most beautiful women on the planet. Case in point, our current companions. Joanna is seated to my right, wearing a

stunning black evening dress I bought for her this afternoon. At least I think I did. She accepted my credit card happily enough . To my left is Georgia, a petite brunette with huge doe eyes, in a tank top and an ivory miniskirt. Emily, another blonde, is all over Maks . Joanna leans across me to talk to Georgia. “Pinch me!” she cries . “No, you pinch me!” comes the reply. The two giggle like fiends . “What are you talking about?” I ask . Joanna lays a hand on my thigh, dangerously close to my crotch. “What do you think, silly? We planned this holiday thinking we’d be staying in hostels and eating at tourist traps! Then we met you two and – well, this happened !” Georgia leans in to flank me and claims my other thigh. “It’s like a dream !” “Well,” I say, “if we’re all dreaming, why aren’t we in bed ?” Their eyes light up. “We thought you’d never ask!” says Joanna .

The two of them grab their purses and stand up. Emily and Maks, who are practically sitting on top of each other, look at us with matching grins . “Have fun,” Emily coos. “We’re going to stick around a bit .” The girls pull me up from my seat as I wave to our companions. We amble toward the door, their arms around my waist, my arms around their shoulders. My head is a little fuzzy from the champagne, but I’m well aware of where tonight is heading . The sultry night air hits me as we emerge from the front door into the streets. The girls continue to giggle as we meander our way toward the hotel where Maks and I – and, I suppose, our three new friends – are staying. People mill past in various stages of drunkenness. All of them are young and impossibly beautiful . This is Milan, after all . “How did you make your money?” Joanna asks as we walk. Her face suddenly turns beet red. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how crass that would sound! You don’t have to tell us .” “Not at all,” I say. “Elevator pitch: I invented a type of software that some people found very

valuable, so they paid me a lot of money for it. The end .” “You must be really smart,” says Georgia. I think the champagne affected her tiny body a bit more than the rest of us, judging by the way she’s weaving. “I can barely turn a computer on .” I lean in close and whisper, “Well, you’re both doing an excellent job of turning me on .” They flash each other a look that promises me I’m in for a night of delight .

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Two 4 . CARSON “I am thinking I need to go to England,” Maksim muses as he stirs his Bloody Mary. He takes a long swallow and lays back down on the Gulfstream’s leather sofa . “Yeah?” I say from my seat. Unlike Maks, I like something a little more substantial than vodka for breakfast, so I’m tucking into a platter from the jet’s pantry. “Why is that ?” “They know how to drink like Russians,” he sighs. “Emily drank me over the table last night. Even at hotel .” I resist the urge to correct him and focus on my eggs instead. Coincidentally, they’re done in the English style, creamy and loaded with butter, so even reheated they’re delicious. The sausage on the side is greasy and savory and exactly what I need to kill last night’s hangover .

Matthias will probably kick my ass in the gym when he finds out about it, but it’s worth it. I wash it down with fresh-brewed black coffee and look out the window at the summer sky. We’re flying into the past: New York is six hours behind Milan, so even though the flight is eight hours long, we’ll arrive only two hours after we left . Not that time has a lot of meaning for people like Maks and me. It’s one of the many perks of not having to work for a living. It’s also what’s responsible – I think – for the sense of disconnection that’s dogged me over the past several months. The feeling that I’m untethered from the rest of the world . Maks gives me a quizzical look. “Something wrong, tovarishch ?” he asks, using the Russian word for friend . I put down my cutlery on my empty plate and push the tray aside. What could possibly be wrong? I think. I’ve got everything anyone could ever want . Don’t I ? “I’m fine,” I lie. “I just—Maks, don’t you ever get… I don’t know. Bored ?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Let go of my leg you are

pulling on, Carson. Did you not take those two beautiful women to your bed last night ?” “Yes.” “And do we not right now fly from Milan on your own jet back to New York City, the greatest city on the world ?” I run a hand through my hair and sigh. What am I talking about? When he puts it that way, how the hell can I believe I’m bored? Millions of men would trade places with me in a second. I can literally do anything I want, whenever I want, and, in a lot of cases, to whomever I want . Maks finishes his drink and gets up to make another. I swear, the man has the constitution of a horse. He tilts the bottle in my direction and raises his eyebrows. I wave it off . “Is it work you are looking for?” he asks. “Maybe you want to be boss again. Yes ?” “Hell, no,” I say. “I never miss the work. Software development wasn’t a career for me, it was just the means to an end .” “What is this means, your end ?”

I smile. Even when he doesn’t try, he’s hilarious . “Sorry, I meant that I got into that field for the money. I didn’t enjoy it. After my father died, I realized that I didn’t want to be like him, to have my fate decided by other people .” “Your papa was soldier, yes ?” “Yeah. We moved around all the time when I was a kid, from one base to another, as ordered. I didn’t want that kind of life. I always knew I was smart, and I wasn’t learning anything in college that I didn’t already know, so I dropped out and started Black Sword .” “I have told you before, that is the awesomest name, my friend .” “I know, I know. I went with a hacking defense system because I knew there was a huge gap in the market for it, not because it was particularly interesting. It took about six years to get it fully functional, but the second it was up and running, buyers were breaking down my door. And I guess three billion and change isn’t bad for a few years work. Plus stock options .” “And so why you are bored here ?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m searching for a new challenge. Building my company was probably the last time I really used my mind properly, you know. After I got rich, I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish, and none of them had anything to do with my brain. First off was getting that six-pack I always wanted .” Maks spreads his arms wide. “Mission is accomplished,” he says. “If I was the gay man, I would be up on you, like Snoopy Dog sings .” “Snoop Dogg. And yes, thanks to Matthias and a lot of hard work. Once I had the new physique in place, all I could think of was making up for lost time with the ladies. I guess I’ve gone a little overboard in that department .” That’s the understatement of the century . When I discovered that women were starting to notice me, I made it my mission to seduce everyone I met who would have ignored me in high school. All the former cheerleaders, all the society types. What amazed me was how easy it all was. It’s like someone handed me the cheat codes to life and women . “After awhile,” I continue, “I got so used to women falling for me that I started flirting without even

thinking, and they started throwing themselves at me. Last night was a perfect example. They were lovely girls, but it was a foregone conclusion that I was taking at least one of them to bed. And, let’s be blunt, it’s not like I was going to be discussing chaos theory or the Fibonacci integer sequence with them afterwards .” There was only one girl I ever really talked with, and I haven’t seen her in twelve years. I try not to think about her . I don’t succeed , but I try . Maks sits back in the sofa and stares out the window beside my head for several long moments. He seems to be debating something with himself, and I wonder if I’m going crazy. Looking to Maksim Orlov for life advice is like looking to a monk for sex advice . He’s totally unequipped to answer . “So if I am listening right,” he says, “you want something that will make you use your head and your khuy .” He uses the Russian word for – well, little head. As usual, he has absolutely no subtlety, but he’s hit the nail on the khuy . “I guess you could say that,” I chuckle. “Don’t ask

me how to put those two things together, because I don’t know .” Maksim nods, and his expression is as serious as I’ve ever seen it, which is not at all what I expected . “My friend,” he says. “I think I may know of something that might be what you are looking about .” He leans close and lowers his voice to a whisper, as if we weren’t the only two people in the jet’s cabin. Antonio and Patrick, the pilots, are behind the cockpit’s soundproof door . “You must promise that you will not talk about this to anyone. It is very important that you understand that .” What’s this cloak and dagger bullshit ? “Fine,” I say, making the sign of the cross with a mocking grin. “I’ll take your secret to the grave… now what the hell are you talking about ?” “What I am talking about,” he says, “is the Chase .”

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Three 5 . CASSANDRA I’m not sure exactly how I expected this meeting to go, but it certainly wasn’t like this . The rich leather of my chair feels like butter against the luxurious fabric of my best dress. This office is unlike anything I’ve ever seen: rich mahogany paneling on the walls, a filigreed walnut desk, a Turkish rug that must have cost upwards of $20,000 . And across from me, behind the desk, sits a middleaged lady in a Stella McCartney pantsuit who had every reason to laugh me out of the room, and yet is nodding in agreement . “I think you’re really on to something,” says Miranda Winthrop, vice president of Tate Capital and the daughter of the firm’s founder, the legendary Oscar Tate. “Your business plan is sound, but what really inspires me is your passion for the product .”

I nod, working hard to keep the excitement out of my face. I’ve been trained to keep my emotions in check, but it’s not easy. Part of me wants to jump up and down and shriek like a teenage girl at a Justin Bieber concert . “I appreciate that,” I say, trying to sound professional. “I think our approach would be unique in the frozen treat industry, since Ms. Clarke and I both want to keep the recipes original .” “That’s so important,” she says. “A lot of companies have cut corners to maximize profits over the years and it shows. I don’t know if you’ve eaten any store-brand ice cream recently …” I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to tell me,” I say. “It’s nothing like we used to eat when I was a kid .” “You’re preaching to the choir. Honestly, I’m already a big fan of Patty’s. If you and Tricia can manage mass production and still hold onto what makes that ice cream so special, I have every confidence that this will be a going concern .” This is really happening. I’m so close. Now comes the hard part . “So,” I say. “Do you have a number in mind ?”

She flips through a stack of papers with a beautifully manicured hand for several moments as my heart rate doubles. I’ve been in plenty of lifeor-death situations in the last several years, but this has them all beat . “Based on what I see here, the money you’re offering to put up would constitute a thirty percent stake of the total deal .” I do the math instantly in my head: three and a half million is thirty percent of eleven million and change. Tate Capital puts up the other seven and a half and we’ll get our factory up and running. And then, after we – naturally – become a wild success, the initial public offering will take the company public and I’ll sell out for easily ten times my investment and retire to a Greek island before I’m thirty-five . Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a day for fourteen days. I can’t keep the smile off my face. I’ve had years of training, years of field operations, years of pushing myself to my limits, mentally and physically. If I can’t avoid a group of rich old geezers for two weeks, I better hand in my CIA special operative card . Well, I suppose I already did that. But you get what I mean .

“That sounds eminently doable,” I say, wincing inwardly at the lame buzzwords. But my resume says I’ve been a business consultant for the last six years, so I need to be able to talk the talk. “With your assurances, I’ll move forward with due diligence and I’ll get to gathering my capital .” Buzzword. Buzzword. Buzzword . “Excellent,” says Miranda, returning my smile. She reaches a hand across the desk and I take it in mine. “Let’s set another appointment for three weeks from now and we can expand on the details. I’m looking forward to working together, Sandra .” “As am I. And I’m sure Tricia will be over the moon when I let her know .” Miranda puts on an expression of mock gravity. “Tell her as a partner, I expect to be added to the sampling team .” I return the look. “Of course,” I say. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, this is serious business .” We both laugh as she shows me out onto the streets of Manhattan. Well, the elevator bank, anyway. Another handshake and she walks back to her office, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The

initial excitement is still there, but something below the surface is threatening to throw cold water on my celebration . Don’t focus on that , I scold myself. Focus on the money . Two weeks, that’s all. Maybe I can add in a few days for good measure, build up my own finances as well. An extra four days would mean a million dollars for myself, tax-free in an offshore account. That’s nothing to sneeze at . Do as many days as you want, it’s going to end the same way no matter what: you in bed with a stranger . I shake my head and raise my hand to hail a cab, trying to get into the right headspace. I was an expert in pragmatism for years, I tell myself. I know the end justifies the means, and the means aren’t always pretty . In this case, the end is a one-third stake in a multimillion-dollar company that will eventually go public and leave me financially independent for the rest of my life . The means are simple: they call it the Chase .

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Four 6 . CARSON “The Chase?” I say. “You mean that British quiz show ?” Maksim looks at me like I’m an idiot. “What? No, not TV show. I am talking about something very secret .” He puts a finger to his lips. Like I don’t what the word means . I raise my hands, palms up, inviting him to tell me more. I also sit back in my chair, because he’s still leaning close and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper, and his breath reeks of vodka . Which wouldn’t be such a bad thing, except for the fact my head is still pounding from last night . “My uncle has said some things that I overlistened,” he says. “He and my father have many wealthy colleagues, as you know .”

I do know. I also know they and a lot of their colleagues are on FBI watch lists. I’m sure Maks suspects as much, but he never talks about it . “Some of them are like you, very smart. And bored. I can see it on their faces when we are at church and at gatherings of family. One day, I hear uncle talking about a woman who was in US Army intelligence, and how she was ‘the prize.’ His friend says to him, ‘I’m in. I will get you money tomorrow .’” I tent my fingers under my chin, an old habit that helps me focus . This sounds crazy. Like something out of a lowbudget movie. In my experience, at least, being a billionaire isn’t that different from my old life. I just fly on fancier jets and drink better booze. And the women, of course . But this – this sounds like it’s come off Hollywood’s rejected script pile . “So,” I say. “You’re telling me this is a hunt of some kind? Maks, you know me, I’m not into – ” “No, no, no, not a hunt.” He frowns at me. “What kind of family do you think I have ?”

I leave that one well alone . “No, the Chase is not about killing anyone. Not animal, not person. I don’t know details, but it is about finding someone. A woman .” “Why would someone pay money to find a woman? They’re all over the place, in case you hadn’t noticed. Especially when you’re like us. You know me, Maks. I don’t pay for women .” “Not Army intelligence officer women. They are not all over the place. And uncle said this one was… special .” “Special how ?” He leans in even closer. “I think she was virgin .” Now I’m the one frowning . “Are you talking about rape?” I demand. “Because if you are, this conversation is over .” Maksim’s expression droops into a wounded puppy look, and I realize I’ve crossed a line . “Carson,” he says. “I would never – ” “I know, I know,” I soothe. “I’m sorry, you’re a man of honor. I shouldn’t have jumped to

conclusions. But if not that, then what? What’s the purpose of the Chase? Why would any woman, especially one who’s smart and capable, allow herself to be chased and give up her virginity to someone she doesn’t even know ?” His eyebrows go up. “Money, of course. What else is there ?” He’s got me there. I recently read an article about a Romanian teen who auctioned off her virginity online for over €2 million. Her reasoning was actually pretty sound: she asked how many women would have taken advantage of the deal if they’d had the opportunity to revisit their first time? A night of sex for a lifetime of financial security . “So there’s more than one pursuer involved, obviously ?” “Yes,” says Maks. “Like I say, I don’t know details but I know it is competition. Losers lose money, winner wins money and the woman .” “And your uncle takes a commission .” It makes sense, and technically I guess it’s not illegal. I’m sure the handling of the money isn’t above board, but it never is in something like this. All offshore accounts and anonymous transfers.

The prize money could never show up on the books anywhere. I can just picture telling an IRS audit about the money I won popping a woman’s cherry . As far as I know, I’ve never slept with a virgin . All my conquests have been experienced. Some more than others – some much more than others – but never a first-timer. It would certainly be a new experience for me, and I’m all about new experiences . But what really has me intrigued is matching wits with someone who’s trained in evading capture. That’s the kind of real challenge I’m looking for. Suddenly, jumping off a cliff into a lake seems like a juvenile stunt by comparison . Maksim finally leans back on the sofa and takes a pull directly from the vodka bottle this time, a smile creeping across his swarthy face . “I can see there are wheels rolling in your head,” he says. “You are interested, yes? I have caught you like hook on fish .” “I am interested maybe ,” I say . “I will talk to uncle about it. Maybe he will pay me commission, eh ?”

I grin back at him. “And maybe then you’ll pick up a check once in awhile .” He laughs and takes another swig of vodka . “And take away your chance to show everyone how generous you are?” he says. “Why would I do that to you, tovarishch ?” Maks kicks off his Givenchy loafers and stretches out on the full length of the sofa. From the breast pocket of his sportcoat, he produces a small fabric sleep mask that he slips over his eyes. Finally he clasps his hands behind his head and is snoring softly in less than a minute . I chuckle and turn to look out the porthole at the cloudless sky. Of all the people I’ve ever met, precisely one carries a sleep mask on his person at all times . I half consider a nap myself – it’ll be a long day in New York, especially with the time difference – but I know sleep will elude me. The Chase keeps tugging at my mind, like an exposed wound, taunting me . Surely it can’t really be a thing? Perhaps Maks – half-drunk – completely misunderstood an overheard conversation. Surely that’s a far more

plausible scenario ? Sleep eventually creeps around the edges of my consciousness as I ponder the Chase, until it finally overtakes me and drags me down into its depths . I dream of a redheaded girl who’s smarter than me and makes my heart soar .

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Five 7 . CARSON The scent of her shampoo is strong in my nostrils as I run my tongue around her earlobe. It’s a special kind, made specifically for kinky-haired redheads, she always tells me. I tell her it’s actually for women who dye their hair red, not for real redheads, and she just sticks her tongue out at me . That’s circular reasoning, she says, but only because she’s distracted by my attention to her ear . It’s a logical fallacy, yes, but not circular reasoning. I can’t be bothered to point it out right now . I know this is a dream, even as it unfolds. This never actually happened. Cassie and I made out, yes, and we had Socratic arguments, but never at the same time. I hold onto the feeling of being close to her as long as I can, burying my face in

her neck, hearing her hot breath against my ear . But it doesn’t last . It never does. I always end up back here, in this empty living room, with this stupid corsage in my hand. I look around the room at the emptiness there. In the dream there’s dust on the wood moldings and the windowsills, cobwebs in the corners. That’s not what really happened, either. It’s just my mind painting a portrait of the loneliness I felt when I walked into that deserted house . When I discovered she was gone . And, just like always, I’m back in the gym at good old Oak Grove High, surrounded by kids in their best suits and the prom dresses that their parents can’t really afford. They’re all laughing at me, laughing at the brainiac kid who got stood up by his brainiac girlfriend. Couldn’t even get the geekiest girl in school to come with you, huh ? Now, just like always, I come to the realization that all my success, my money and my body and everything that came after high school, was just a dream. I’m going to sign up for the army and be just like Dad, marching to orders and moving to every fucking Podunk town in America. This is my

life, forever and ever . And Cassie wasn’t even real, she never existed, I just made her up. That’s why she disappeared that night. There was never a girl who understood me, who stretched me in every advanced placement class, who shared books with me and told me I was handsome and held me so tight that I actually believed that maybe, someday, everything would turn out okay . Nothing but an empty living room on prom night, and a corsage that I bought for someone who wasn’t there . M y stomach drops suddenly and I’m back in the Gulfstream, clutching the arms of my leather seat . “Sorry about that, sirs,” Patrick says over the intercom. “Just a little turbulence from a squall off Nova Scotia. That should be the worst of it .” I breathe deeply, taking in as much recycled air as I can fit into my lungs before letting it out slowly. I’m shaken, and not from the bumpy ride . The dream again. The one where everything I have today is just a teenage fantasy and I’m trapped in the life my father lived. It always takes me several minutes to shake off the effects and remind myself

that yes, I am Carson Drake, billionaire playboy . I’m not that kid that everyone laughed at on prom night. Nor the boy who was abandoned by the girl he loved . I’m different now. Better. And everything will be all right . I sigh and run my hands down my face, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes . “Whuh?” Maks grunts from the sofa. He sits up and pulls off the ridiculous sleep mask. “Are we home ?” “Close, but not quite,” I say . He lets out a huge yawn and reaches for the vodka. “I dreamed that I was the king of England,” he says . “Maksim.” “Yeah?” “I want to find out more about what we talked about .” He brightens. “You are sure ?”

“I’m sure,” I say . Let the Chase begin .

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Six 8 . CASSANDRA “What are the three greatest words in the English language ?” It’s not exactly the greeting I’m expecting when Tricia opens the door to her apartment, but I can play along . “I don’t know,” I say as she ushers me in. “I love you ?” “Please,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Wine. Sweatpants. Popcorn.” She counts out each one on a separate finger . “Let me guess: you have all of them ?” “In spades .” She leads me into the living room. Her place is a lot like her: bold and funky. The furniture is an eclectic mix of antiques and garage sale chic. A Matisse print and a portrait of dogs playing poker share

space on the wall of the dining area . In another place, in another time, it would look tacky. But not with Tricia . Here, now, it fits . I take a seat on an ancient sofa that sinks almost to the floor as it accepts my weight, leaving my knees almost under my chin. Tricia flops down in an overstuffed armchair that’s covered in a material that resembles fur, assuming there are pink-haired mammals somewhere in the world . “I hope you’re okay with pinot grigio,” she says, pouring us each a glass of the straw-colored liquid. “I’m a sucker for a sale .” “If it’s cold and it has alcohol in it, I’m okay with it,” I say, offering up my wine glass in an ironic cheer. “Besides, our days of buying wine on sale are rapidly coming to an end .” Tricia pulls her oversized plastic bowl of popcorn into her lap with childlike glee . “Does that mean what I think it means?” she asks, eyes glowing . “It does indeed. Miranda Winthrop said if we can

put up $3.5 million, Tate Capital will put up the rest for a two-thirds stake .” She lets out a long breath and shakes her head. “It just seems like so much. I mean, all I have is a little equity in the building and what I have in retirement savings. That’s not even, what, two hundred thousand .” “I told you to leave it to me.” I tilt my glass back and feel the chill glide down my throat, taste the fruity tartness on the back of my tongue. That’s the stuff . “It’s easy to say that. It’s something else to do it .” “I also told you I have someone on the hook who’s looking to buy the goodwill in my consulting business. My client list is worth $3 million on its own .” That’s a flat-out lie, but Tricia never needs to know. I’ve been telling lies for a living for almost eight years now; I’m an expert in it . But I am – partly – telling the truth. I will have the money soon; it just won’t be coming from the sale of my business . After all, how could it? The business doesn’t exist.

It never did, outside of a PO box address and a phone number that goes straight to voicemail . “Besides,” I say, lifting my glass in a toast. “Miranda is absolutely gaga about your shop .” “She said that ?” “Well, not those exact words, but the sentiment was there .” She grins and drains her glass. I follow suit and pour us two more. We both stuff a handful of popcorn into our mouths and chew noisily, then giggle like girls . “So,” I say. “Are you ready to be a big shot ?” “I honestly don’t know. I mean, I come from a working class family. My parents freaked out when I told them I wanted to open an ice cream shop. To this day they think I should drop it all and try to find a government job .” Government job . My stomach cramps a bit at that. I’m currently in the process of leaving a government job, even though my name isn’t officially on any government records. Anywhere. No 401K, no benefits package .

“My dad works for the government,” I say. That much is true . “There’s something to be said for a steady paycheck and job security .” Job security only works when you know you’ll be home safe at the end of the workday. I never knew from one day to the next whether I’d even be alive, let alone still have a job . I munch on some more popcorn and wash it down with more pinot. “I think there’s something limiting in that, though. You give up something in exchange for that security .” “What do you mean, give up ?” “Jobs are about conforming to standards and following rules, especially with government. You give up your creativity, your individuality .” She nods. “I see what you’re saying. I can’t picture you ever working for government. You’re way too smart to make a damn fool move like that .” I’m terrible at taking compliments, always have been. And, like always, I’m still blushing. But Tricia’s right: a government job that wasn’t in the CIA probably would have driven me around the

bend. Using my wits is what makes me happy, gives me purpose. Makes me feel like I’m doing something important . The problem with the job, of course, is all the horrors that are part and parcel of trying to keep America safe for democracy . Tricia gives me an appraising look. “I wonder what you were like in high school,” she says. “I bet that gorgeous red mop and your big brain made you the most popular girl in school. Am I right ?” I smile ruefully. “You couldn’t be more wrong. We moved around a lot, so I was always the new girl. And despite what you may think, the other kids tend to hate you when you blow the grading curve with your scores. And this?” I take a handful of my curls. “It was a lot redder and a lot frizzier in those days. And I was built like an artist’s model .” “You mean curvy ?” “No, I mean like one of those featureless wooden figures that they pose into different positions. Calling my breasts mosquito bites would be overselling them .” Tricia giggles and takes another sip. I down the rest of mine in a gulp. Thinking about those days always

makes me feel uncomfortable . “Did you have a boyfriend?” she asks, leaning forward and putting her elbows on her knees. “Give me the dirty details !” I break eye contact and look away. Suddenly my heart hurts . “For awhile,” I say. “But there wasn’t anything dirty. And it didn’t last .” “So you two didn’t …?” I blush again. “No. I’ve never actually… you know .” Her eyes widen. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying ?” “I just never had the time for a relationship,” I blurt. “And I never found the right guy again .” How the hell did we end up in this discussion? This is the absolute last thing I want to be talking about right now, given my circumstances . “Again? So you’re saying High School Boy was the right guy ?” “Look, can we talk about something else, please?”

Anything else . Tricia gets out of her chair and sits next to me on the sofa. She takes my hands in hers . “Honey, the ‘losing it’ part is no great shakes,” she says. “But once you get that out of the way, it’s amazing what can happen. I mean, ah-may -zing .” Once you get that out of the way. I won’t be in suspense much longer in that department. I guess that means I’ll be able to move on to the ah-may zing part sooner. That’s a positive thing . Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll start to believe it .

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Seven 9 . CASSANDRA My apartment is a study in contrast with Tricia’s. Where hers is all kitsch and kook, mine is all wood and glass . Functional. Modern. Sleek. Efficient . It’s funny how a home can be a reflection of its occupant . The clock said midnight the last time I looked, and the buzz of the wine has long since worn off. I’m pretty sure Tricia had two glasses to each of mine, judging by how dozy she was when I left. The train ride home was enough to sober me up and get me in the right mindset for what I have to do . I chose this apartment – or, I should say, it was chosen for me by my father – because it has a socalled panic room. It’s a secure space that’s not noticeable from the outside, designed for paranoid people who are worried about home invasion .

In my case, it’s my office. Read into that what you will. At least my office until I decided to leave work behind two months ago . I reach into my bedroom closet and tap the back wall, activating a spring-loaded switch that causes the false back to slide into the wall. Anyone watching me from the outside would see me disappear into a wardrobe that shouldn’t be big enough for me to fit . The office itself is purely functional, without a hint of style. It’s about eight feet square, with a simple metal desk, an office chair, my CIA laptop and a thirty-six-inch monitor affixed to the wall. The walls themselves are covered in soundproof panels made of foam wrapped in dark gray fabric . It won’t make the cover of Style At Home, but it serves its purpose. Hopefully it’s not as much a reflection of me as the rest of the apartment . I boot up my computer and open a Tor browser – a special program designed to access the “dark web,” a part of the Internet that even Google can’t find. Usually for good reason – they’re often used to sell drugs, weapons and… well, other things you don’t need to know about . I call up a text-based site I discovered through a

dark web search a couple of months ago, and open a file marked “Chase .” I’ve read it half a dozen times already: there’s nothing new. General information, rules, contact names. I tried to trace it back to its source a few weeks ago in an attempt to find out who was behind it, but I just got bounced from one ISP address to another. Whoever set up the site had serious online security credentials . There’s no point going through it all again; I won’t learn anything new, and I wouldn’t change my mind if I did. So instead I call up the message board I’ve been instructed to use. I hit enter and green letters appear on a black screen: Your answer ? This is the point of no return . Yes , I type . My finger hovers over the enter key for a full minute before I finally take a deep breath and press it . A green circle comes on the screen and spins for about thirty seconds. When it stops, another prompt: Enter account information. I type in the number of a bank account I set up in Grand Cayman, a haven for money that people don’t want

to be found. Another green circle appears when I hit enter, another thirty seconds pass . More text on the screen: Account will be credited $250,000.00 USD per day until Chase is complete. Maximum term: 14 days . Now what ? As if in answer to my question, a video file suddenly appears on the screen and auto starts. The camera is focused on a stunning blonde with long, satiny curls and bright red lipstick, sitting in a wellappointed parlor. Her dress probably cost more than I make in six months . “Hello,” she purrs. She’s worked very hard to erase her Russian accent, but it can’t escape my trained ear. “If you’re seeing this, it means you’ve completed your registration for the Chase. Congratulations .” Thanks, sweetheart , I appreciate your sincerity . “This year’s Chase will begin at precisely 12:01 a.m. on July 30. You’ve already read the rules and obligations, so I won’t go over them here. You are required to submit the information requested within twenty-four hours. Please note that your registration is considered a binding contract by the

administrators of the Chase .” She cocks her head slightly and leans closer to the camera . “Failure to meet your obligations will be considered breach of contract and will be dealt with accordingly .” Of course it will . People who offer you large sums of money, deposited into offshore bank accounts via the dark web aren’t exactly known for their laid-back attitudes over breaches of contract. I understand the consequences . “The Chase will end at midnight on August 13. If you avoid capture until then, the prize will be auctioned among the contestants. The proceeds of the sale will, naturally, be credited to your account .” The prize . For better or worse, that’s what my virginity is now: a prize to be won by someone with more money than common sense . The thought makes my stomach sink just a little bit.

But I knew what I was getting into when I pressed that button . As for prizes, I’ve got my eye on my own , and I’ll win it with the help of the Chase . The blonde leans back in her chair and folds her hands on her lap . “You will be contacted on July 27 with more information .” She smiles, and as she does, I grab my phone off the desk and snap a photo of her on the screen. I don’t know why; instinct, I guess . “On behalf of my associates, I wish you luck .” The screen goes black . That’s all I’ll get until the twenty-seventh . Three days from now . The deadline somehow makes what I’ve agreed to seem more real in my mind, and I realize my confidence has been an act . The Chase itself will be easy, I know that much. But that talk about an auction? It makes me think of the scene in Taken , where women are sold like

cattle to the highest bidder. Of course, I’ve seen worse in my time working in the shadowy corners of the world . I never expected to experience it myself. And certainly not voluntarily . I leave the office and close the secret door behind me. Wine isn’t going to cut it this time, so I pull a bottle of Jack Daniels from the sideboard in the living room. I pour myself two fingers and knock it back in a single shot . There’s no turning back now .

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Eight 1 0. CARSON The Regent is a boutique hotel on the Upper East Side that never advertises, has no listing online, and is always full . Basically, if you don’t know someone who knows someone, you’re better off not even knowing it exists, because you’ll never get in. And if you do get in, you won’t see a price anywhere, because the kind of people who hang out here never see their own bills . I take a sip from my glass and savor the smooth, rich smokiness of the 1926 Macallan single-malt scotch. The décor in the Regent’s bar looks like it hasn’t changed since the 1920s; it’s just been maintained like new. It’s all ebony and leather, with white highlights like lace tablecloths and giant ostrich feathers in gold vases . I’m wearing a tailored Tom Ford tuxedo and I still feel underdressed .

The second my appointment walks in, I know exactly who she is, because she looks right at home. A full-length red dress hugs her curves and the room’s discreet lighting turns her long blonde curls into spun gold. She sashays straight to my table and sits down before I have a chance to fully stand up . “We can dispense with the formalities,” she says with a smile. Her voice betrays just the slightest hint of an accent. “No need to be out in the open any longer than absolutely necessary, given the nature of our discussion. Wouldn’t you agree ?” “I would,” I say. I feel like I’m in a scene from some old noir movie with Humphrey Bogart . The waitress arrives and silently places a double martini with three olives in front of my companion. She’s obviously a regular here . “Maksim – ” She arches an eyebrow and raises a red-tipped finger . “No names,” she says. “If you say another, I’m afraid our time here is done .” I nod in apology. I’m not used to being chided, not

anymore. It’s almost… tantalizing. “Of course. Forgive me .” “Our mutual acquaintance says you are looking to become part of our friendly little game .” Friendly little game . That description makes the whole thing seem even more lewd, if that’s even possible . “I am,” I say . “The buy-in is twenty, due in full before the twenty-seventh of this month. You will be given instructions on the transaction .” I assume that means untraceable Internet transfer, possibly Bitcoin. I can do that. I have a couple hundred million in a slush fund that I use for purposes that might not meet the approval of my accountants. Twenty million would be a full ten percent of my rainy day fund, gone in an instant . “That’s a serious amount of money,” I say . Her smile widens and she places her hands on the arms of the chair to stand . “It was very nice to meet you,” she says sweetly, and suddenly I see everything falling apart .

“Wait,” I say. “That was incredibly crass of me. I apologize .” She returns to her seat as if nothing happened, but I definitely know where I stand now. A tingle runs down my spine. The way my body’s reacting is confirming what I already knew – this “friendly little game” is going to be exactly what I needed to recharge myself . “Upon acceptance, you will be given a dossier with information on your quarry. No names, obviously, or physical characteristics. Just enough about the quarry’s habits, environment, and background for you to create a profile .” Quarry . That’s even more lewd. Enough so that I actually feel a twitch under my tailored slacks . “The Chase will begin at midnight on July 30 and continue until midnight on August 13, or until the quarry is caught. Capture automatically ends the Chase for all competitors. No second place; winner takes all .” “How many others am I competing against ?” She smiles and takes a sip of her martini. I guess that answers that question .

“Each competitor will be given the key to a room in this hotel,” she says. “If and when you believe you’ve located the quarry, you will give her your key. If she is, indeed, the one, she will accompany you to the room to complete the game. If she is not , the Chase is over for you .” Wow, that really is winner take all. I mull it over as I finish my scotch . “What’s in it for her?” I ask . “Money,” she says with the look of a mother indulging a toddler . “A small fraction of what your associates will net, I’m sure .” Another smile. “Wealth is relative .” “So what stops her from just holing up somewhere for two weeks ?” “She – and the competitors – will be closely monitored. Any deviation from the rules will be dealt with immediately and decisively. My associates pride themselves on the integrity of the Chase .” Jesus. Suddenly this is becoming real. Do I really

want to be that involved with a Russian mobster? And drop twenty million in the process? Am I really that bored ? The answer, absolutely, is yes. This isn’t so much about completing the game , as she puts it, but the game itself . “What can you tell me about the, uh, quarry ?” She tilts her head and brings her palms together, clasping them like a chef describing a particularly rare feast . “I’m delighted to say that, just last night, we secured our most challenging lady yet. Her curriculum vitae includes one of the South’s top military colleges as her alma mater – graduating top of her class after only three years – and almost a decade of counter-intelligence and black ops fieldwork for off-the-books agency branches .” Hello. This is what I’ve been waiting for. This is why I’m willing to put up a small fortune . “One more thing,” my companion says with a leer that inspires a little blood flow in my nether region. “I’ve seen her, and she is truly stunning .”

“As stunning as you?” I say automatically. Apparently, I just can’t turn it off anymore . She flashes me a sweet smile as she stands up. “You flatter me. But I’m afraid fraternization is strictly against the rules. You understand .” I understand that I can’t remember the last time I was turned down by a woman. It feels oddly exhilarating. At once a challenge and a warning . “You will be contacted shortly with more information,” she says, draining her martini and gathering up her purse. “Please be prepared .” I stand to see her off. “I will,” I say. “It’s been a great pleasure meeting you .” “And you. Good luck .” With that, she’s gone . I sit back down and wave to the waitress for another scotch. She anticipated my order and already has a new glass, which she sets in front of me. I slip her a crisp portrait of Benjamin Franklin – a tip, you never actually see the bill at the Regent – and she leaves me to my thoughts . Next thing I know, my fingers are tented under my

chin and I’m in full analysis mode. Let’s recap, shall we? I need to track down a stunning needle in the haystack of New York City before an unknown number of fellow billionaires with equal, or perhaps ever greater , resources beat me to the punch . How hard can it possibly be ?

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Nine 1 1. CARSON Normally, the Boom Boom Room is enough of a distraction to make it worth my time. On any given night, you’ll see billionaires – or at least their heirs, like Maksim here – and a handful of A-list celebrities wandering around in the red neon glow. At the very least, you’ll see a Kardashian or two . But tonight, I’m not paying attention. All I can think about is the Chase . Maks is dressed in his usual club outfit: black slacks and a charcoal satin shirt, open practically to his solar plexus, three gold chains dangling against the curly pelt of his chest. I love the guy, but if you looked up “Eurotrash” in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him . I’m a little more subtle: light gray seersucker suit for the summer heat. Tailored, naturally, for my physique. Even top-of-the-line suits off the rack invariably fit too tightly in the chest, shoulders and

arms . Our companions, as usual, are friends of Maks. As I said, people tend to flock to him. Especially when I’m paying, which is always . Tonight, it’s a buxom brunette with stunning blue eyes, and a willowy blonde who looks a little like Taylor Swift after a boob job. They do have two things in common: they’re both lawyers, and I’ve barely said a word to either all night . I’m not trying to be a dick, but right now, if they’re not former intelligence operatives, then I’m simply not interested. My mind is consumed by the Chase, alive with excitement and possibility . Maksim leaves the girls talking with each other and slides down the bench to greet me with an arm around the shoulder . “Tovarishch ,” he says with a grin. “Your mind is not here this evening. I think I know where it is being, though. Yes ?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whisper. “And you better hope your uncle doesn’t know, either. He may have eyes on us right now .” His eyes go wide and the blood drains from his

face. Just as quickly, the old Maks is back and he’s laughing theatrically . “Oh, my friend!” he hoots. “You are making the best jokes! ‘Santa only comes once a year!’ I get it !” I can’t help but admire the guy – he’s nothing if not adaptable. He goes back to the girls, who send disapproving looks in my direction. I’d like to tell them the old Seinfeld line – it’s not you, it’s me – but how would I follow that up? “Sorry, I just paid twenty million bucks to chase an anonymous woman and take her virginity ”? I’m guessing that would be a conversation stopper . I glance at my Rolex. It’s been almost forty-eight hours since my meeting with Red Dress at the Regent. She said I’d be contacted with information on how to make my payment. I scan the Boom Boom Room for potential underworld types, wondering if one of them will approach me . Most of the people in the club are in their twenties, probably spending a month’s pay for a single night of dancing and rubbing elbows with the beautiful people. I see an aging Real Housewives “star” in the middle of a group of young people, acting like she’s their age instead of her actual forty-seven

years . All of it combines to make me suddenly tired of the whole thing. I pull my billfold from my jacket and drop a stack of hundreds on the table . Maksim frowns. “You are not leaving already?” he says. “The party is just yet beginning !” Another disappointed look from his companions, so I amble to their side of the booth and lean in close. I take one hand from each in my own and place a kiss on both . “Ladies,” I say with a smile. “Please don’t take this as having anything to do with you. You’re both absolutely charming, but I’m afraid I have a pressing… business matter that needs my immediate attention. I hope we can do this again soon, when I have more time to get to know you .” They both sigh as I let go of their hands. Behind them, Maks is shaking his head and applauding silently. Slick , that look says. Or, in Maks-speak, Sliding . I make my way through the crowd as the lights strobe and the bass thumps, taking in more of tonight’s clientele. As I approach the VIP section, I recognize a handful of gentlemen from the upper

rungs of the socioeconomic ladder. Some of them are close to my spot, if Forbes’ rankings are to be believed . But are any of them my competitors ? The thought sparks a little pang of cockiness in me. So what if they are? They may have my kind of money, but none of them have my kind of brain. All of them inherited their standing; I earned every penny in my bank account, just like I earned the muscles under this suit . As I emerge from the club, the night air on Washington Street is filled with the smells of street vendors and exhaust, the sounds of sirens and laughter and music. I wave at the street in an attempt to get one of the yellow cabs to pull over and take me back to my penthouse . One of them slows down and pulls alongside a Porsche parked at the curb. As I move to take a step toward it, I see a huge shadow out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head to catch one of the largest humans I’ve ever seen – easily a head taller than me and a hundred pounds heavier – stride past me on the sidewalk. The material of his suit could upholster a small sofa . As he passes, he leans down slightly and places

something on the concrete before moving on. I look down and see it’s a black leather valise . Stenciled into the opening flap at the top are the words Chase & Regent . My heart skips a beat. This is it . The cabbie toots at me to remind me how valuable his time is. I look up to see the giant has somehow blended into the crowd already. What level of skill must it take to hide that kind of bulk in a matter of seconds ? I recall what Red Dress said about us being monitored and I wonder if I even want to know . I snatch up the case and hurry to the cab. As I slide into the back seat, I have to resist the urge to just yank it open and go through its contents right here and now . “Where to?” the cabbie asks . I give him the address of my Park Avenue penthouse. “There’s a $1,000 tip in it if you get me there in under thirty minutes .” I have to grab the case to keep it from toppling off the seat as the cab screeches off into the night .

Chapter One Hundred Seventy 1 2. CASSANDRA I check my phone for the umpteenth time today to see if I’ve somehow missed the ding that indicates a new message. Nope. Just like all the other times I’ve looked at it so far today. Outside the living room window, I see the night sky of Manhattan lit up like the world’s most expensive Christmas tree . The little Netflix logo appears on the screen of my Macbook with the message: “Are you still watching Scandal ?” Obviously I haven’t been paying attention – I can’t even tell you what season has been playing, let alone what the current episode is about . Of course, Scandal isn’t the easiest show to follow at the best of times, and this is far from the best of times . I exit the program and am greeted by the desktop photo: a beautiful beach in Bora Bora. I traveled all over the world in my job, but I never got to see a

place like Bora Bora. The only sand I ever got to see was in the desert . Sigh. I check the phone again without thinking. My work computer is rigged to alert my phone whenever a new message comes in from the Chase’s website, but still nothing. And it’s almost midnight . My nerves are starting to fray. I’ve been more confident hunkered down in a rathole in the Middle East than I am right now, waiting for this message. What if it’s all fallen apart somehow? I don’t think I could take that. To come so far with this, only to see it disappear like smoke in the wind … I need a distraction . Before I can stop it, my thumb slides around the track pad and clicks on a file folder called “Sandra’s Stuff.” Inside is a folder of videos . I know where my subconscious is going and I’m helpless to do anything about it. Suddenly the screen is filled with the image of two awkward teens mugging for the camera. In the lower right corner is a date stamp from thirteen years ago . This isn’t going to help me at all. This is just

wallowing. But I don’t stop it. Can’t stop it . The girl is all red curls and freckles, the boy skinny with hair that looks like it was shorn by a military barber. They’re standing beside a roll-up banner welcoming all students to the seventeenth annual high school science fair. Behind them, a contraption covers most of the white plastic table on which it sits . The girl holds up a large gold medal to the camera. The boy nabs it from her and bites down on it like an Olympian on the podium. She giggles with delight . So do I. Just like I did back then . “Tell everyone what you made,” my dad’s voice says from behind the camera . “It’s just a scale model of a nuclear reactor,” the boy says blandly, like he’s describing a mildly interesting rock he found at the beach. Meanwhile, the girl looks at the boy the way teens gaze adoringly at posters of Justin Bieber these days . He glances over at her and catches her staring. She blushes, flustered. Behind the camera, Dad clears his throat .

“All right, that’s enough filming. Mom’s waiting for us at the restaurant .” The boy swoops in and kisses the girl on her freckled cheek an instant before the screen becomes filled with white static and the video file ends . Smart, my brain tells me. I’m waiting on information about the stranger who’s going to be the first man to take me to bed, so what do I do? Watch a video of the first and only boy I’ve ever kissed. The only one I’ve ever cared about . Sometimes I wonder if all my intelligence somehow pushed the common sense out of my brain . The sharp rap at my front door sets the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Who the hell is here at this time of night? And why tonight, of all nights ? I place the Macbook on the sofa and take a calming breath, running my hands down my blouse to smooth out the wrinkles before striding to the door. Cool and calm. Olivia Pope, that’s me . There’s no one there . On the hallway carpet is a slim leather travel case

with the words Chase & Regent stenciled on the top . My pulse quickens as I snatch it into the room and quickly close the door. I just assumed they’d contact me electronically, not physically. That kind of risk shows a level of confidence I wouldn’t have expected from these people. I guess I underestimated them. That’s my first lesson . I open the case and tip its contents gently out onto the sofa: a no-name electronic tablet, a sheaf of papers, and a gold ring. Nothing else . I hit the power button on the tablet first. It comes to life with a video of the blonde woman again . “Hello, Cassandra,” she says. “I hope this finds you well. I trust you now have in your possession a printed file of information on your pursuers. You should also have a ring. Please place the ring on your finger now .” She pauses for a moment, so I do as she says. It’s a perfect fit . “Excellent,” she smiles. I get the sensation that she can see me, even though I know that’s impossible . Right?

“The ring contains a device that will allow us to track your movements during the Chase. Please make sure you wear it throughout; a sensor in the band is sensitive to your body heat and will alert us if you remove it at any point .” “I’m sure that would be dealt with accordingly,” I say . “One final rule of the Chase,” she says, holding an old-style skeleton key up to the camera. “Each pursuer will carry a key identical to this one. It opens a room in the Regent Hotel. If and when you are presented with this key, it means the Chase is concluded and the presenter has won . “You will accompany him to the Regent and complete the transaction .” So now I know. It’s like they’re all carrying a key to my soul. And losing my innocence will be a transaction . An image of the redheaded girl in the video flashes in my mind and I feel the hot sting of tears behind my eyes .

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-One 1 3. CARSON I almost never use the blinds on the floor-to-ceiling windows that wrap around my penthouse, but now I hit the button to activate them as soon as I walk in the door. Someone would need a telescope to spy on me at this height, but I’m not going to take any chances . I take a seat in the center of the twelve-seat sectional couch that sits right in the center of the living room, and spread the contents of the case onto the low, wide block of solid walnut that serves as the coffee table. Even with the blinds down, I make sure the only light in the apartment is the soft LED glow from the post-modern lamp next to the sofa . The contents are less than I would have expected: a tablet, a few papers and an old-fashioned brass skeleton key . The papers are a dossier on my quarry. She’s thirty,

the same age as me. The military college she graduated from is somewhere on the southeastern seaboard. That narrows it down . Red Dress said the quarry graduated at the top of her class. A year early, to boot. Much better than my two years at Harvard before I dropped out . That should narrow it down even more . My heart is racing. This woman is turning me on more than any has in recent memory, and I don’t even know what she looks like, let alone her name . Her file says she’s worked with two distinct government agencies – it doesn’t specify which, but I assume it’s some exotic combination of Army Intelligence, the NSA and/or the CIA. She’s been an analyst and an active field agent . I don’t know much about this kind of stuff but I do know those two jobs rarely align. They take a totally separate set of skills: one is a thinker, the other is a doer . This lady is both. Brains and brawn. Just like me . An involuntary grin creeps across my face . There’s precious little other information: a list of

places she frequents, her neighborhood (Midtown), a few more background details. She’s from a military family, like me. Hopefully that will help me get inside her head . I pick up the tablet and hit the power button. The screen remains black but suddenly a line of green text appears across it, a hallmark of dark web sites. It’s like being in The Matrix . Enter account details . This is it. I use the browser to call up my slush fund and watch as the sum of $20 million disappears into the ether . As soon as that’s done, a new line appears . Transfer verified . The screen goes black again and suddenly it’s filled with a video of Red Dress smiling at me. She looks exactly the same as she did the night we met at the Regent. Did she meet all the competitors wearing the same outfit? Or did she film a different video for each of us ? I don’t know, and I can’t figure out which I’d find more strange .

“Congratulations on joining the Chase,” she says, ignoring my dilemma. “I trust you currently have in your possession a case containing both a dossier on your quarry and your key .” She holds up a key that’s identical to the one sitting on my table. I wonder again how many of these are now floating around New York . “Allow me to reiterate the rules of the Chase,” she says. “You are not to speak of it to anyone. Your pursuit of the quarry cannot draw attention to you in any way. Any attempt to circumvent this rule will be dealt with accordingly .” I assume that means I can’t take out an ad in The Times saying “Hey, quarry, I’ll pay you a bonus if you come to my apartment and let me give you my key .” The thought of being dealt with accordingly gives me pause, though. How much power do these guys have that they can make veiled threats to a gang of billionaires ? I think about the giant that disappeared on the street outside the Boom Boom Room and realize I probably don’t want to find out . “As you know, the quarry will be monitored by us

at all times,” she continues. “Any actions deemed inappropriate will be dealt with accordingly .” No cheating. Gotcha . “Finally, the Chase will end when the quarry is caught by a contestant. All remaining contestants will be informed by an untraceable text message that simply says ‘over .’” You won’t be on that damn recipient list , I tell myself . “In the event the quarry avoids capture for the full term of the Chase, the prize will be auctioned off among the remaining contestants .” Wait, what? Red Dress never said anything about that at the Regent. So no matter what the quarry does, she’s giving up her virginity to one of the competitors . I lean into the low back of the sofa and run a hand over my chin. I don’t think I like this development. I just assumed I was going to win – I still do – so it didn’t really matter that she was losing her cherry. Her first time would be with a guy who, all false modesty aside, is built like a statue and has spent the last ten years learning every bedroom trick in the book .

It’s disturbing to think that she might end up underneath some bloated old toad, or worse, an entitled bastard who thinks it’s perfectly fine to hit women, just because they were the highest bidder . Red Dress smiles at me from the tablet screen one last time . “I wish you luck. Let the Chase begin .” The screen goes blank, and as soon as it does, more text flashes across the screen: Rewriting hard drive . Might as well say erasing all evidence . Ten seconds later it powers down, now a blank slate, and I have to resist the urge not to smash it against the table. I don’t like being duped like this, but I’m already in. I can’t turn back now, and not because of the money. That doesn’t matter . What does matter is the quarry. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let someone else get their hands on her. The stakes of the Chase have suddenly gone up exponentially . “I’m coming for you,” I whisper to the room. “I hope you’re ready .”

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Two 1 4. CASSANDRA I’ve walked through the front door of Patty’s more times than I can remember over the past few months, but it’s never felt like this before . My senses are on high alert, as if I’m walking into a den of arms dealers in Libya instead of a Midtown treat shop. I brace for the scent of sweat and distrust and catch a sultry whiff of freshly baked brownies for the fudge delight platters . Tricia is behind the till, chatting with an elderly lady who’s picking up a red velvet ice cream cake. Suddenly I envy Tricia’s simple life: her biggest challenge today will be making sure the singleserving cups she’s catering for a kid’s birthday party don’t melt . I, on the other hand, have to keep someone from handing me a brass key. And keep my virginity intact for as long as possible, of course .

When I say it that way, it sounds ridiculous. If only it was. I checked my Cayman account at midnight last night and the balance was $250,000 USD . Shit, as they say, just got real . I take a seat at my usual table, managing to return Tricia’s welcoming smile and wave. She disengages from the cake lady and brings me my usual double espresso . “Howdy, partner,” she says, plopping down across the table from me. As always, her blonde curls are constrained in a hair net and her face is dotted with patches of powdery white flour . “Thank you for bringing me the water of life,” I say, raising my cup in salute. The concentrated coffee stings the back of my tongue with bitter goodness, as it always does . In almost every respect, this is exactly like every other day that I’ve come into Patty’s since Tricia and I first met. Except, of course, for the fact that I’m now being stalked by a bunch of billionaires who want to crawl on top of me, and if I don’t fend them off for two weeks, my dreams are going to go up in smoke . Other than that, everything’s just fucking peachy .

“Guess who came in just before you did,” Tricia says, eyes shining. Her smug grin says she’s got a secret she’s dying to share. “Go ahead, you’ll never guess in a million years .” I can’t help but smile back. Trust Tricia to distract me when I need it the most . “Let me think,” I say, rubbing my chin. “Was it that UPS guy whose butt you always stare at ?” “Like I’m the only one,” she says. “We both know that thing is hypnotic, like a cobra’s stare. No, I’ll give you a hint: it was somebody famous .” “Man or woman ?” “Woman.” “Young or old ?” “Young.” Hmm. Nothing on the menu at Patty’s is less than three hundred calories, so that rules out supermodels . “Singer or actress ?” Tricia frowns for a second. “Sort of both. Mostly actress .”

That rules out Miley Cyrus; she’s “mostly singer.” Who else is on the list of dual threats these days? Selena Gomez? Singer. Hailee Steinfeld is mostly actress. Jennifer Lawrence sang in that Hunger Games movie. None of those are pinging on me, though . Tricia looks at me triumphantly . “You’ll never guess,” she says. “Want me to tell you ?” “What did she buy?” I ask . Her eyes narrow. “A gallon of Fudge Fantasy. Why ?” A face flashes in my mind. It’s only going to be an educated guess, but I’ve learned to trust my instincts over the years. They’ve kept me alive more than once . “Anna Kendrick,” I say, taking another sip of my espresso . Tricia’s face drops for a second, then contorts into a mask of frustration . “How do you do that?” she yelps. “I never get one

over on you !” “It’s obvious,” I grin, pretending I was way more confident than I truly had been. “I happened to read once that her favorite food is Taco Bell. Any woman who eats at Taco Bell on a regular basis isn’t going to be afraid of Fudge Fantasy. Did you get any selfies with her? Pics or it didn’t happen ...” Tricia brightens again and comes over to my side of the table with her phone out. She flips through a half-dozen shots of her with her arm around Anna Kendrick’s neck. To Anna’s credit, her smile seems genuine . The bell over the front door jingles, signaling the entrance of a new customer. I don’t jump and spin to see who it is, because that would be a dead giveaway that I’m paranoid. I’ll check out the new arrival with a casual glance in a few moments . “She said Elizabeth Banks told her about us,” says Tricia. “I’ve talked to Elizabeth lots .” Her eyes light up suddenly and I can practically see the light bulb over her head . “What if we could get them to do a commercial for us when we go national with Tricialicious? That would be amazing !”

I chuckle. “Slow down, Turbo. Let’s make sure Anna doesn’t get sick from all that fudge first .” She drops into a pouting pose and sticks out her tongue. “Killjoy .” Now I’m full-on laughing. “Okay, okay,” I say. “It’s actually not a bad idea. We’ll have a pretty substantial marketing budget when we’re ready to launch next year. I’ll see if I can track down their agents and see if they might be amenable .” “See?” Tricia says. “That’s what I mean when I say you’re the smartest person I know. That would never have occurred to me .” “Of course it would have .” She gathers up my empty cup and stands. Just before she goes back behind the counter, she leans down beside me and nods her head toward the window, where I heard the new arrival sit down a couple of minutes earlier . “Whoa,” she whispers. “If you think UPS guy is hot, check that out .” I grin and turn to my right to see who could possibly have taken the place of the man in the brown shorts in Tricia’s eyes. The first thing I

notice is the chiseled torso under his white tee-shirt and the sleek, powerful legs protruding from his tight gym shorts under the table. I can’t see his butt, but I’m quite sure it would put our delivery driver’s to shame . The summer glare through the storefront window is strong, dimming the features of his profile a bit a bit. As if to rectify the situation, he turns and looks in my direction . Our eyes meet and suddenly my world turns inside out. It’s a face I know as well as my own. The chin is a little wider than the last time I saw it in the video two nights earlier, the hair a bit longer and a shade darker . But there’s no mistaking those smoky gray eyes . I’m looking at Carson Drake. And he’s looking at me .

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Three 1 5. CARSON Welcome to Patty’s ice cream and treats. Here’s your coffee. Would you like a side of teenaged heartache to go with that ? I came in here because I love their brownie sundaes, even though Matthias always makes me do a dozen extra burpees whenever he finds out where I’ve been. Plus, it’s on the list of places “the quarry” has been known to frequent on occasion, so I thought I’d scope it out and see if anyone set off any alarms in my brain. Like a dozen other places on the list, I planned to set up a baseline that I can compare against over the coming fortnight . Now, out of nowhere, I’m staring into Cassie Vincent’s pale sapphire eyes . I feel like I’ve been caught in the gravity well of a black hole – I can’t look away. I’m trapped. It’s a vision of the life I always wanted, but one I’d given up on .

Cassie has changed a bit since the last time I saw her. Her hair has gone a shade lighter, almost strawberry blonde but not quite, and straightened somewhat. The freckles that I used to count during our make-out sessions have faded a bit, but the skin is still the same milky pale it always was . Her body, though. Wow . She was always reedy, almost to the point of being gangly, back in high school – we both were. Not that I could have cared less. She was still a goddess in my eyes . But now there are wicked curves under her yellow sundress. Shapely legs that have seen more than their share of exercise. And the cleavage peeking out to say hello to the world was definitely not there the last time we were together . The last time we were together before she stood me up for the prom and disappeared from my life for a dozen years . Her eyes are as wide as I imagine mine must be. We’ve been staring at each other for what seems like a week, but is probably only twenty seconds. In the real world. Which couldn’t be further from how I feel right now .

“Uh, do you guys know each other?” the blonde to Cassie’s left asks. I’ve seen her here before; she’s the owner, I think . Cassie finally blinks and seems to come back to herself. Thank God. I don’t know if I would have been able to break the spell on my own . “Yes,” she says with a smile that looks about as genuine as a $3 bill. “We, uh, we were … friends. In school .” Friends. All right, then. I guess I know where I stand, at least now . My charm autopilot kicks in and I stand up. The blonde gasps slightly as I do. I lean forward and extend my hand to her . “Carson Drake,” I say. “Pleased to meet you .” “I’m so sorry,” Cassie says, obviously flustered. “Carson, this is Tricia Clarke. She owns Patty’s .” “Not for long,” Tricia says as she takes hold of my hand. She holds onto it for longer than most would consider polite, but eventually lets go. “Pretty soon Sandra and I are going to be partners. Why don’t you have a seat with us ?”

Cassie flashes her a look as I sit . “So,” I say. “Still going by Sandra ?” She looks like she swallowed a bug. “Yeah,” she says. “It’s, uh, it’s my name .” This obviously confuses Tricia . “What else would you call her?” she asks . “She was always Cassie to me,” I say. “But her dad thought Sandra sounded more serious .” “You were the only one who ever called me Cassie,” she says . I knew that. How could I forget ? I’d whisper it in her ear during the nights we spent exploring each other’s mouths with our tongues. It made her feel special, something only the two of us shared. And that meant more to me than any night spent with a supermodel in the last few years . Tricia looks Cassie up and down, appraising her like she’s a used car . “You know what,” she says. “I think you look like a Cassie. It suits you. Suits your personality, too. I like it. I’m going to call you Cassie from now on,

too .” Cassie flushes. I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but I am. Sometimes I’m a real bastard . “You have good taste in friends,” I say . “Uh-huh,” she says . Tricia looks back and forth between the two of us, obviously waiting for us to talk to each other. When we don’t, she takes it on herself to continue, papering over the tension . “So,” she says. “How long has it been since you two saw each other ?” “Twelve years,” we say in unison . Three months and five days , I don’t add . Tricia cocks an eyebrow. “Ooo-kay. Good to see neither of your memories is failing. So not since high school ?” “Since prom night,” I say. It’s out of my mouth before I even realize it . I worry that Cassie will clam up now, but she seems to have recovered her composure .

“What have you been up to since then?” she asks, propping her chin in her hand. Suddenly she’s as cool as an autumn breeze . I can’t believe this. Every time I have the dream, the one where I show up at her empty house on prom night and everyone laughs at me, I fantasize about this moment when I wake up. The moment when I get to tell Cassie Vincent that I went on to fulfill every dream I ever had . Well, all except one . “I went on a full ride to Harvard,” I say. “But I dropped out in sophomore year when my dad passed away .” Cassie’s eyes widen in shock. “Oh my God, Carson, I’m so sorry. What happened ?” “A training accident. He took a live round.” I keep my voice casual, but even now, a decade later, the memory hurts, an almost physical ache that fades but never fully disappears . “That’s terrible! I loved your dad; he was so easygoing .” I remember how well the two of them got along. Cassie’s dad was a bigwig colonel, always pushing

her to use her intellect to its full capacity. He wouldn’t accept anything less than perfection from her . And I was definitely not part of his plan for his daughter . “My dad was too easygoing,” I say. “He spent his life being ordered around by other people. I decided then and there that I wasn’t going to let that happen to me. So I started a tech company and sold it a few years ago. Now I’m retired .” Tricia is goggling at me now. I can practically see the drool pooling in her mouth . Cassie gives me an earnest look and puts a hand on top of mine . “That’s incredible,” she says. “Retirement obviously agrees with you. I mean, look at you .” I manage to keep my grin polite instead of letting it spread from ear to ear. I’ve been waiting a decade to hear her say that. I realize now – maybe I always knew – that I would never, could never, have found satisfaction with any other woman . “You’re very kind,” I say. “There are definitely some advantages to being able to spend as much

time as you want in the gym .” I lean in closer. The peppery fragrance of her perfume fills my nostrils and suddenly I can feel myself getting hard under my gym shorts. I lean back again; I don’t need that kind of embarrassment . “Whatever you’ve been up to agrees with you, too,” I say. “You look incredible .” “Well, thank you,” she says . “So what have you been up to for the past twelve years ?” She fidgets in her seat, tugging at the hem of her sundress . “Well,” she says, “that’s a long story .”

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Four 1 6. CASSANDRA It’s taking all of my training right now to not bolt out the front door and lose myself in the streets of Manhattan. Every instinct in me is shouting “Abort! Abort !” Instead, I stare into Carson’s gray eyes and at the outline under his shirt. He must practically live in the gym to maintain a body like that. I’ve worked with elite soldiers who would look like Zach Galifianakis next to him . He raises his eyebrows and it suddenly occurs to me that he’s waiting for an answer to his question . Tricia takes that as her cue to go back behind the till, probably thinking she’s doing me a favor. I try to flash her a “come save me” look, but she’s studiously avoiding looking anywhere but at Carson . “I’d best leave you two to… catch up,” she says,

grinning another Cheshire cat smile at him. “Wonderful to meet you, Carson. I hope I see you again .” “I’ll make sure of it,” he says with a grin of his own. I can’t help but notice how easily he says it. The last few years have certainly treated him well . She turns to head back behind the counter. As she does, she catches my eye and widens her own like an owl’s. Oh my GOD , that look says . Tell me about it . I smile weakly. And I thought keeping an eye out for billionaire perverts was going to be uncomfortable. This is far worse . “Well,” I say . “Yes?” “All right, then. Time for the Sandra Vincent – uh, I suppose it’s Cassie Vincent now – elevator speech .” Carson settles in. “I’m all ears .” You’re all something, but it’s not ears , I don’t say . “Okay, so obviously I graduated and went on to

college .” “Where?” “Wharton,” I lie. I’m in their records, thanks to government intervention, but the only time I’ve spent in Philadelphia was to internalize the details of my cover story . “Got my MBA, specialized in supply chain management systems, and then went on to become a business consultant. Now I’m looking to sell out and partner with Tricia on expanding Patty’s into a national line of specialty ice cream .” He tents his fingers under his chin, a habit he’s had since we were teens. He thinks it makes him look serious, like my dad. Pft. I used to make fun of him for it . “Supply chain management,” he says. But it’s not just what he says, it’s the way he says it . “Uh-huh .” I’m trying not to squirm under that gaze. Even though he knows nothing about the last twelve years, he probably knows me better than anyone else on Earth. If anyone can sniff out a lie from me, it’s him .

He and I were two peas in a pod, constantly challenging each other. We’d sit around for hours after school, discussing everything from philosophy to physics. No one else could understand what the hell we were talking about, and I guarantee none of them would ever get how much it turned us on . I can’t help but think he’s disappointed in me for giving that up to get into such a plain lifestyle. If he only knew what I’ve actually spent the last eight years doing . “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” he says. “You were always good at systems analysis. You could work a program better than anyone I’ve ever known, myself included .” High praise indeed. Carson always had a healthy dose of cockiness when it came to his intellect. It certainly didn’t help him win any popularity contests back in school. Although, if his interaction with Tricia is any indicator, he’s come a long way in the charm department . What matters is that he bought the story . “Anyway, I’ve picked up a loyal clientele over the years and I think I can parlay my goodwill into enough money to buy a factory. Take Tricia’s genius nationwide .”

“That’s a brilliant idea, as long as you can keep the integrity of the products. I’m crazy about the goodies here. In fact, I rode my bike here from Park Avenue just to get some .” I can’t wait to tell Tricia that Carson is a fan of the shop. She’ll probably wet her panties . “So you can see where I’m coming from,” I say. “I’m tired of working for other people, too .” That’s the first time I’ve told the truth since Carson sat down . He nods. “Definitely. And with your experience, you should have no problem expanding .” That’s true, too. I actually had to study supply chain management to be able to maintain my cover for so long. That’s the bit they don’t tell you about when you sign up. Of course, I’ll have to figure out marketing and other aspects, but I know we’ll be a success . “What’s your long-term goal?” he asks . “Same as you: take the company public, sell my shares for a small fortune and live a life of leisure .” Again, just enough truth to be plausible .

“A small fortune.” He smiles. “Yep, that’s me, all right .” We sit in awkward silence for a few moments. I know what he wants to talk about, but I just can’t. Not here. Not now. Not while I have to focus all my attention on the Chase, which I totally haven’t done since Carson walked through the door . “I’m sorry,” I say, standing and picking up my purse. “I really am. I’ve got so much to do today. I’m working to get my capital together so we can get our leverage deal started .” He stands up. Mr. Gallant . “Who are you working with ?” “Tate Capital. My liaison is Miranda Winthrop .” Carson lets out a whistle . “That’s impressive,” he says. “They only back winning horses .” I feel a wave of pride despite the awkwardness of the situation. The praise feels good coming from him . He holds out a hand and I take it in mine. The

touch is electric, even after all these years. He folds his other hand over mine and suddenly the heat is almost too much to bear . “Have dinner with me,” he says. His eyes are pleading . “Okay,” I hear someone say . Oh shit, it’s me . “Great,” he says. “How about I meet you here at eight tonight ?” “Sure,” says that same crazy person . “Awesome. I’ll see you then .” Carson holds onto my hand for a few more beats before finally letting it go. He gives me a look as though he can’t quite believe his luck, but then turns, clearly not wanting to push it . He grabs his things off the table and heads out the front door to his bike, locked to the lamppost outside . What the hell just happened ?

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Five 1 7. INTERLUDE The huge man watches as Carson leaves the ice cream shop, hops onto his bicycle and rides off into Midtown traffic. A few minutes later, Cassandra walks out and hails a cab . His expression never changes . He slides a sausage-fingered hand into the breast pocket of his enormous suit jacket and removes a smart phone. Despite his size, and the heat of the day, there isn’t a hint of perspiration . He dials a number from memory. It wouldn’t do to have it in his contacts, just in case his phone ever ends up in someone else’s hands. The extension rings once and a click indicates that it’s been answered . “We need to meet,” the man says in Russian. “There are unusual circumstances .” The other end is silent. Finally, a woman’s voice

says: “Two p.m .” The big man slides the pad of his huge thumb over the end-call button and places the phone back in his pocket .

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Six 1 8. CASSANDRA What the hell am I doing here ? Rule number one: I’m not supposed to significantly alter my routine during the Chase . I’m not a hundred percent sure what that means, exactly, but I know I may be pushing it by going on a date . Still, here I am, sitting across from Carson Drake in The Modern, in the center of the Museum of Modern Art. Carson and I are still chatting about the pre-dinner tour we took, about the masterpieces and the artists themselves. About the state of modern art today, and the future of art in the multimedia world . And God, I haven’t felt this good in so long. Honestly, even though the last decade was nothing more than a long flirtation with adrenaline, none of it compares to this .

And this food is unbelievable. I worry that the dress I bought this afternoon is going to be busting at the seams by the time we finish the fourth course. Of twelve. Or something equally ridiculous . “How’s your quail?” he asks . “Heavenly. The morels add so much flavor.” Seriously, what’s happening? The life of leisure was supposed to start after Tricia and I sold the company for tens of millions . Carson smiles. He went with the yellowfin tuna. Something about Matthias kicking his ass . “Did I mention how gorgeous you look in that dress?” he asks . “Several times,” I say. Part of me wants to jump him right on the table for saying so, but part of me knows he’s just avoiding what he really wants to say . The conversation has been so easy up to this point. It’s been glorious going back to the days when we could share our thoughts like this, almost as if all the years and everything that’s happened since just melted away . But I’d have to be insane to think it’ll stay like that

for the rest of the night. Carson’s already running out of subjects to bring up. I can see he’s starting to avoid my gaze. I know he won’t be able to say goodnight without knowing the answer to what I’m sure has been a burning question for the last decade . Namely, why did I disappear on prom night – and then never contact him again ? So if it’s a foregone conclusion, I might as well rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with. My training tells me to always press your advantage, however small. My advantage here is to control the message before he asks . “Carson,” I say. “I’m so, so sorry .” It’s the first time I’ve told the full truth since we met up at the shop. Hell, it might be the first completely honest thing I’ve said in years . I can’t read the look in his eyes. Is he angry? Hurt? This is a moment I’ve been dreading since that night in high school. I couldn’t have looked him in the eye back then. I can barely do it now . He clears his throat. It’s as close as he’s come so far to showing anything other than pure charm. He takes a breath and looks me in the eye .

“What happened, Cassie ?” Part of me wants to tell him the whole truth, but the part of me that’s under a lifetime non-disclosure agreement knows I have to walk through a minefield . “Dad got transferred to San Francisco out of the blue,” I say. “We barely had any notice. We had to pack up and move out of base housing that afternoon .” That’s somewhat true: my father was actually outed as a CIA operative during a Senate committee hearing on the intelligence community. It was politically motivated – Dad was a climber and someone in the agency didn’t like that, so they leaked his name – and it was hushed up immediately. But the damage was already done . Dad made plenty of enemies in his time with the Agency, and for our own safety we had to disappear immediately. The government shipped us off to a military base in Honduras because, technically, it was considered a “temporary” base and wasn’t on anyone’s radar. We lived there for a year until the Agency cleared me for return to the US. Dad and Mom moved to Southeast Asia, where Dad became a section chief .

He always hated the fact that his new post kept him away from “the action.” I think that’s why he pushed me so hard to go into the service myself . Of course, I can’t tell Carson any of that . And the look on his face is telling me he’s not buying the story I’m currently selling him . “You had my phone number,” he says . Be careful how you answer, Cassie . Geez, now he’s even got me calling myself Cassie again . “I felt so bad about standing you up that I just couldn’t call,” I say. God, that sounds so weak . But the pained expression on my face is genuine enough that he should buy it . I hope . “What about after ?” I cried myself to sleep for a year , I want to tell him. I watched that stupid video of us at the science fair over and over and over . “I just got so busy with school,” I plead. “You know how it is .”

That’s a total lie: I didn’t start at the Citadel until they let me back in the US when I was nineteen. Luckily I managed to finish in three years . Carson finishes his fish and wipes his mouth with the napkin. He looks like James Bond in his tuxedo, and again I’m awash in amazement over how much he’s changed. Sure, we reconnected in the museum, but it’s impossible to avoid the fact that he’s completely transformed himself since I last saw him . Is he still the same boy I fell in love with ? Am I still the same girl he fell in love with ? I honestly don’t know .

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Seven 1 9. CARSON She’s holding something back, but I’ll be damned if I know what it is . And really, who am I to be demanding anything from her? It’s been twelve years. We’re both different people now. Am I such a child that I need an apology after all this time ? That kind of attitude was partly responsible for Cassie being the only girl in school who would look at me. The fact I was all gangly angles didn’t help matters, either . Well, things have changed. Dramatically . “Sure,” I say. “I know how school is. I guess it was my turning point .” Cassie smiles. It’s dazzling, especially combined with the stunning sleeveless wraparound she’s wearing. The aquamarine color really brings out the blue in her eyes, and it lifts her cleavage to the

point where I can barely keep my eyes off of it . Where was I? Oh, yeah . “My time at Harvard really showed me that I wasn’t learning much that I didn’t already know,” I say. “And it drove home the fact that I didn’t want to have my nose buried in books for the rest of my life. I wanted to live, not just learn .” “You were totally bored in classrooms,” she says. “That was why you decided to build that nuclear reactor model for the science fair. You wanted to actually engineer something .” I smile. “You remember that ?” She seems startled by the question . “Vaguely,” she says quickly. “I remember that we won .” I remember, too. I also remember going for dinner with our parents that night, and then heading off to the old abandoned barracks at the edge of the base. We made out until her hair looked like a rat’s nest. She barely got it back under control before we went home . “A scale version of that reactor would have worked

if we’d had some uranium,” I remind her . She laughs. “I know! I don’t think the judges ever figured that out. If they did, they probably would have called the government on us .” I chuckle, too. We sit in silence for a while until our server brings us a couple of lemon sorbets . “I don’t remember ordering this,” Cassie says . “It’s palate cleanser before the next course,” I say with a wry smile . She blushes, shaking her head. “I’m such a hick .” “Forget it. I guess you don’t come to restaurants like this very often .” “No,” she says. “But I bet you do .” She’s opened the door, now I’m going to walk through it. I want her to know about everything I’ve accomplished since she left me standing there like an idiot on prom night . “Most nights, I order in from room service,” I say. “My building has a concierge and a full-service restaurant, so I just call ahead and tell them to bring something up when I get home .”

Cassie’s eyes widen . “Wow,” she says. “Where do you live ?” “Park Avenue. Penthouse suite .” Sure, I guess you could call that second sentence a bit of an asshole thing to say. And you would be right. I couldn’t help myself. Being around Cassie makes me nervous for the first time in a long time. I keep feeling this deep need to prove myself over and over again – a feeling I haven’t experienced in years . She lets out a low whistle . “I was thinking,” she says. “It was kind of strange that we’ve both lived in New York for so long and we’ve never run into each other before. But now I realize we kind of run in different circles .” “I tend to travel a lot, too,” I say. “I spend a lot of time in Europe. Northern Australia during the winter. I love snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef .” “Yeah, I can see you’ve become a lot more – uh, active than you used to be .” I beam in spite of myself. Somehow she makes all the years of chasing every woman I met fall away,

and I’m back as that skinny kid again, trying desperately to win her approval . Who am I kidding? Every one of those women was just an attempt to either forget about Cassie, or to somehow validate that I was worthy of such a beautiful woman . Jesus, I’ve got some issues. Is it enough for me to just admit that? I’m thinking not. I know I’m coming off as a show-off, but for some reason I can’t help myself . “It’s important to stay fit,” I say . Good one, buddy. How lame can you get? I can’t believe she still has the ability to screw me up like this after all these years . “Well, you’ve done it in spades,” she says. “I bet you could get into action movies if you wanted. You remind me a little of Jason Statham these days .” “Too much work,” I grin. “It would cut into my leisure time .” “See?” she says. “That’s what I’m looking for! I want to have so much money that I can say things like that .”

I return her smile. Wonder what she’d say if she knew I just paid twice what she can hope to get from selling her shares of this Tricialicious venture, all so I could chase a woman and take her virginity ? Which is exactly when the realization hits me. Holy shit, I’ve wasted the entire first day of the Chase with Cassie Vincent ! What was I hoping to accomplish tonight? Some sort of revenge? Whatever it was, it’s not worth throwing $20 million down the tubes and condemning a poor woman to having sex with some creepy old pervert . I hope none of this shows on my face . “Something wrong?” Cassie asks . “Uh, no. I was just thinking about something I forgot to do .” “Nothing important, I hope ?” “Depends on how you look at it. But I don’t want it to spoil our catching up .” She glances at her watch. “Actually, I was just thinking that I probably should be getting home.

I’ve got a busy day tomorrow .” Shit, I’m so confused . Part of me is struggling to believe Cassie’s not climbing all over me right now and the other part just wants to take her to bed and get it over with . And all of me can’t stop thinking of the poor quarry being handed a hotel room key by some sadistic rich bastard while I stand around and try to figure all this out ! “Of course,” I say. “Besides, if we skip dessert, I can flip Matthias the bird tomorrow .” She giggles and my stomach flips. No matter what I do, I can’t stop feeling like a horny teenager around her. She’s not like any other woman I’ve ever been with. It was always so much more with her . Cassie collects her purse as I pull her chair out for her. At least I can try to act like a gentleman . She looks at me sideways . “Don’t we have to wait for our bill?” she asks . “They’ll just put it on my account .” She giggles again. It’s like music to me .

“Quit teasing me, Carson. Your life, it’s like everything I’ve been dreaming about. I’m totally going to have an account somewhere when I’m rich !” I can’t help but laugh, too. I put an arm around her waist and lead her toward the foyer. Touching her like this sends a jolt straight to my dick, making me feel like a teenager yet again . We reach the coatroom to pick up Cassie’s wrap, but there’s no one at the desk. Cassie looks around with some alarm . “I really do need to get going,” she says, glancing at her watch again. “Maybe I’ll just leave it here and pick it up another time .” “Not at all,” I say, making my way into the room itself. “Come here and point out which one it is .” She follows me in and the door closes behind us. The room is lit only by a tiny sconce lamp on the wall . “Should we really be in here?” she asks. “What if someone sees us? They might think we’re stealing something .”

“Cassie,” I chuckle. “I spend about a hundred grand a year in this place. They know I don’t need to steal what I want. Now let’s find your wrap .” She swipes through the hangers for a few moments before finding it . “It’s up there,” she says, pointing to the shelf above the hanging rack. “I can’t reach .” I move in behind her and reach over her toward the shelf. As I do, I catch a whiff of her fragrance and suddenly I can’t think. It has the same effect on me as her laugh, making me hard as a rock. And dropping me into a memory back into a time when we were still thick as thieves . “You,” I whisper in her ear. “You smell so …” She gasps as my hardness presses against her ass through the thin fabric of my suit pants. I’m helpless to do anything except stand here, breathing into her neck . I feel her spin around in the dark and wrap her arms around my neck. Suddenly her breasts are pressed against me and her hips are pushing their way into the hardness in my pants . My lips press firmly on hers, my tongue slipping

around and under her own. With that, all rational thought flies out of my head, leaving nothing but animal passion in its place .

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Eight 2 0. CASSANDRA This is wrong. This is so wrong. This couldn’t be more wrong . Then why does it feel so right ? Years evaporate as Carson’s mouth burns on my own like a hot coal. Suddenly I’m back in that abandoned barracks with him after the science fair, unable to think about anything but the moment we are experiencing right this second. I’m lost in this world with him, ready to take anything – everything – he’ll give me . Some part of me knows it’s wrong – that we have bigger issues to work out, even if I wasn’t taking part in a little thing called the Chase. But that part is lost under a tidal wave of passion . I run my hands under his suit coat, groping the marble physique that’s been filling my mind’s eye since our encounter at the shop this morning. I can

actually feel the fabric of his shirt straining against the muscles working underneath it . Our mouths disengage with a wet popping sound straight out of a cartoon. Romantic? Maybe not. But it’s raw. Passionate. Animalistic . Now his lips are working their way down into the hollow under my ear. The hot caress of his tongue is like a branding iron on the sensitive skin there . Meanwhile, my hips have a mind of their own, twisting and pushing toward him. I can feel solid steel under his pants, just like our make-out sessions in high school. But something has changed. It’s grown. Or maybe it’s just been so long that I just think it has . I haven’t let myself go like this since before my family was spirited away to Honduras and I started down the path that led me to the CIA. For the past twelve years, my whole life has been about control, of myself, of the situation . The total abandon of this moment feels soooo good … Carson’s mouth reaches my throat and starts to explore. A groan escapes each of us as my hands work my way down to the perfect orbs of his ass

cheeks and squeeze. I can’t believe I did that – are women supposed to squeeze men’s butts? I don’t know . And I don’t care. I just did it and it felt amazing . He returns the favor immediately with rough, powerful fingers, and I feel a sudden tingle between my legs the moment his hands grab me. The hem of my dress hikes up and exposes more of my legs. The sheer naughtiness of the moment is a giddy thrill I haven’t felt since we were teens . “Cassie,” he growls in my ear. “My Cassie …” My heart sings at the sound of my name on his lips. I was always Cassie to myself, never Sandra. That was my father’s name for me. Carson knew who I truly am, all those years ago. Even today, after so many years spent buried under a mountain of secrets and lies, I still believe he’s the only person on Earth who knows the real me . Whatever comes of this, I know one thing for sure: Sandra Vincent is gone. Cassie Vincent is here to stay . I tilt my head to allow Carson easier access to my neck. I don’t want him to ever stop what he’s doing there. It’s makes me feel like I’m drunk .

His hands make their way around to my front and begin to stroke my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress. They swell and my nipples strain at his touch. The shock of pleasure runs straight down my belly into my groin. I squeeze my legs together there to maximize the situation . Geez, Cassie. The situation? Way to make it sound like you’re still on a mission … My arms reach up to encircle his neck and pull him closer. It’s like I want to be part of him, to have the two of us meld together into something that can’t be separated. It’s been so lonely without him for so long. I never realized just how bad it was until this moment. This feeling . “Carson,” I whisper as I take over working on his throat with my tongue. I want to return all the desire he’s sparking in me. I want him to feel as good as he’s making me feel . Next thing I know, he’s scooped me up by my cheeks and my back is against the pile of coats hanging next to the wall. Fur and silk press against my bare back, enhancing the sensuality of the moment. Expensive perfume wafts around me, filling my head . Suddenly there’s extra space in my gown. I realize

it’s because Carson has pulled down the zipper in back and my bare breasts are pushing free from the confines of the fabric. They’re exposed in front of a man for the first time in my life. Except that time in survival and evasion school, and we don’t talk about that … Besides, I’m too turned on to feel embarrassed . Then his mouth closes over my nipple and my mind becomes one with the universe for a moment . My God, the electricity of it! I’ve never felt a tongue on my breast before. It’s so warm and soft, but what it does to me ! The spot aches with pleasure as his hand takes care of my other breast. His powerful fingers stroke so softly, then circle my nipple before giving it the tiniest squeeze and sending vibrations right through me . Carson’s other hand is still holding me up by my ass as easily as if I’m weightless. His fingers grip me there, prompting a thrill in my groin that threatens to soak me. I let out a groan that I couldn’t hold in for all the money in the world . He takes this as a cue to press himself into me even harder, pinning me against the wall with that

concrete rod against my opening, separated only by fabric . “Cassie,” he moans. “I missed you so much …” My eyes flutter open as I run my tongue along his neck, and I see the room behind him. Light filters into the room through the thirty-degree crack in the doorway. For the first time, it occurs to me that someone could walk in at any second. Someone could, perhaps, even be watching us right now . The jolt of that realization brings another unpleasant thought along with it, and my breath catches in my throat . What the fuck am I doing?! I’m supposed to be in the Chase !

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Nine 2 1. CARSON Stupid, stupid, stupid! Shit ! One second Cassie and I are on the verge of throwing caution to the wind and doing it right here in the restaurant coatroom, now she’s trying to zip up her dress by herself with a look of panic in her eyes I should have known Cassie is too sophisticated a lady to have sex in a public place. Or is it just that she doesn’t want to have sex with me ? “I’m sorry,” she mutters, gathering up her things. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this .” Her breasts are still pushing out of her gown, so I step around behind her and zip her up the rest of the way . “No, I’m sorry,” I say. “This was inappropriate. Maybe we should take this back to my place .”

Her eyes widen like matching blue supernovas . “I can’t!” she yelps, rushing to the door. “I have to go !” Way to go, Carson. Make the love of your life feel like a bimbo by mauling her in a fucking coatroom . “Let me take you home,” I say, already knowing she won’t take me up on it. I feel helpless, useless. How did I screw this up so badly ? “That’s all right, I can get a cab .” The subtext is clear: I don’t need your help . She runs her hand through her red curls, trying to smooth them into something more presentable. Her eyes are darting everywhere, like someone is after her . My mind immediately flashes back to that night in the barracks and my heart cramps. That memory prompts another thought: Cassie Vincent is running out on me. Again . It’s selfish and uncharitable, I know. Unfair, even. But I can’t help the feeling of déjà vu . “Will I see you again?” I ask. Might as well be

blunt. I never got the chance the last time this happened . The look she gives me makes me think of a cornered animal . “I-I can’t,” she says. “Not now. I’m just too busy. With other things .” Her eyes brighten . “With business!” she blurts. “The deal! Lots to do. I need an early night. Maybe – maybe in a couple of weeks? Say on August 15?” She looks at me pleadingly . My eyes narrow. If Cassie thinks Carson Drake is going to sit around and wait until she feels like calling him sometime, she’s got another thing coming. I have women lined up to spend a night with me ! Hell, all I’d have to do right now is call Maksim and get that brunette’s number from the Boom Boom Room and boom! She’d be in my room. I know I’m acting out. I know that Cassie’s dismissal – for a second time – is bringing up bad memories. Hell, some kind of long-repressed psychodrama is most definitely coming to the surface .

I know all that, and yet I can’t stop myself from acting out my part, as though I’m merely an actor in some Shakespearean play . “Whatever,” I say with a smile. “I’ll give you a call some time .” She gives me an unfathomable look. I used to be able to read everything beneath those opal-colored eyes. Now I don’t have a clue what she’s thinking . “I mean it,” she says. “I really am just too busy right now .” “Sure, I understand. I’ve actually got a lot lined up for the next couple weeks, too .” Most of that involves throwing myself into the Chase with everything I’ve got. Using the hurt that’s even now bubbling back up to the surface. Using it to win . Cassie straightens her dress one last time and steps into the atrium that will take her back into the Museum of Modern Art and the exit to the street. She looks around at the breathtaking art on the walls, then back at me . “I really did have a wonderful time tonight,” she says .

Of course you did, I say to myself. You spent it with Carson Drake. Not spending the rest of it with me is your loss, not mine . Keep telling yourself that, buddy . “Me too,” I say. “I’ll see you again. Good night, Cassie. Sorry, I guess it’s Sandra now, isn’t it ?” “No,” she says. “From now on, it’s Cassie. Always .” She gives me a sheepish wave and heads into the museum. I stand there, watching her walk away, until she turns a corner and is gone . “Mr. Drake ?” A female voice behind me startles me out of my reverie. It’s Helene, the maître d, an elegant brunette in a black shift dress . “Yes?” “I couldn’t help but notice that you were in the coatroom for an extended period of time .” I work hard to keep blood from flowing to my cheeks . “Yes,” I say. “Sorry, my date’s scarf was caught on

something and we had to untangle it .” She nods knowingly and I realize I’m not fooling her . “That would explain the noises. I couldn’t help but notice that she left on her own. I hope everything is all right .” “She, uh – she has a busy morning tomorrow .” Helene smiles. It’s practically a leer . “I’m off in a few minutes,” she says. “In case you don’t have a busy morning tomorrow .” And suddenly I’m Carson Drake again. The Carson Drake, man about town, eligible billionaire bachelor . “Such a tempting offer,” I say. “But I’m afraid I do have a lot of work to do tomorrow .” Her smile turns into a pout . “A pity .” I flash her a grin I don’t feel . “Yes, it is .”

She turns and walks back into the restaurant. Her long legs pivot with every precise step, turning her shapely ass into a perfect 180-degree oscillating gyroscope . Aaand just as suddenly, I’m that geek from high school again. Sigh . What I do know for sure is that I need to stop focusing on Cassie Vincent and start focusing on my quarry. I can’t afford any more pointless distractions . The Chase is underway and the game, as Sherlock Holmes said, is afoot .

Chapter One Hundred Eighty 2 2. CASSANDRA The rules of the Chase stipulate that I can’t leave the geographic area of Midtown Manhattan for two weeks. Some people might consider that a prize, not a punishment. I mean, it’s home to Broadway and Times Square and a hundred other magnificent places to spend time . The problem for me right now is that Midtown is also home to a financial district that’s almost as prominent as Lower Manhattan’s, which means my pursuers could be right behind me at any moment. And I’m expected to not deviate too much from my everyday routine, so that they have a fighting chance to identify and – well, I guess the politically correct term would be catch me . So it hasn’t been easy to keep a low profile . I’ve avoided Patty’s for the past three days for fear I’m too much of a regular there. And, frankly, because now I associate it with meeting Carson

again after all these years. I have to focus on the Chase, not on him. And his beautiful body. And his electric touch . If only it were as easy to do as it is to say . So, like any good quarry, I keep moving, never staying in one place for too long. I’ll stop for lunch or a coffee, but after that I’m back on the street . I’ve spent the better part of this morning wandering the shops of Korea Town. It’s been postcardperfect so far, the kind of day that’s so quintessentially New York that it could be the backdrop of a Woody Allen movie . “Good morning,” the girl behind the counter says as I enter a boutique jewelry shop on Madison Avenue. She’s stunning: probably five-foot-ten, easily five inches taller than me. Hair like black satin. It’s funny how place like this only hire the extremely attractive . “Good morning,” I smile back. As I browse the shop’s wares, I use the mirror behind the girl to monitor the front door and the traffic on the street beyond. Honestly, I’d probably be doing this whether or not I was in the Chase. It’s ingrained in me after so many years working for the Company, one of the comedic euphemisms for the CIA .

I have to admit I’m not entirely comfortable popping in and out of the stores. I’ve familiarized myself with most of the latest Forbes list of richest men in America, but to be perfectly honest, a Korean billionaire could walk right past me and I wouldn’t even know it . It’s a loose end. I make a note of it, because I don’t like loose ends . “Something I can help you with ?” The words make me jump, and the girl immediately regrets them . “Pardon me, I’m so sorry!” she says. “It’s just that you seemed to be looking around everywhere and I thought maybe you needed help .” I need help, all right. Psychiatric help . I laugh, even though it’s the last thing on earth I feel like doing . “My fault,” I say. “My mind is somewhere else .” It’s amazing how off-kilter I’ve felt since this all started. I mean, I’ve walked through downtown Tripoli wearing brown contact lenses, a black wig and a headscarf, and I felt less exposed than I do

right now. I have to keep reminding myself that the contestants don’t know I’m a redhead, so I’m actually not a walking neon “look at me” sign. Well, no more than I normally am, I suppose . I thank the girl and head back out onto Madison. Summer tourists flock by, taking photos of the Flatiron Building and craning their necks at all the skyscrapers. I turn onto Twenty-Third Street, then again onto Fifth Avenue. There’s a food stand about a block up that makes the best Lebanese food on the Eastern Seaboard, and that’s from someone who’s spent quite a bit of time in Lebanon . “Sandra!” a swarthy middle-aged man says as I approach. He’s got more hair on his chest than his head, which is glistening under the almost-midday sun . “Hello, Khalil,” I say. “Kayf hu aleamal? ” How’s business ? He beams like he always does when I speak Arabic to him . “Can’t complain, nobody’d listen anyway, amiright?” he says, hardening the words into a passable Brooklyn accent .

I giggle while he throws together a lamb pita and douses it with his signature sauce, the recipe for which I’ve never managed to get out of him, even under threats of torture . As always, he refuses my money. I helped him get his brother a visa a few years ago and he hasn’t charged me a penny since. I’ve always assumed he knows I’m not really a business consultant, but he’s never brought it up and neither have I. He’s my kind of guy . “What’s new, Sandra?” he asks as I take my first bite . “Actually,” I say through a mouthful of lamb, “I’m going by Cassie now .” His eyes widen and it’s almost like I can read his mind: he thinks it’s an alias . “It’s short for Cassandra,” I say. “It’s just the other end of the name .” “Ah!” He claps his hands together. “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady .” “You’re too kind, sir .” I take my food up the street to the plaza at General

Worth Square and, amazingly, find an empty table under one of the blue umbrellas. This porcelain skin of mine may be the envy of a lot of women, but it also opens me up to a higher risk of melanoma, especially after all the time I’ve spent in deserts. And freckles. God, whatever I do I can’t escape the freckles . A glinting relection catches me in the eye just as I reach for the chair, and I feel something pulling it in the opposite direction. I lift a hand to shade my eyes and see who I’m about to give an earful – it’s New York, after all, and a “yo, whaddaya think yer doin’?” is expected in polite company . The silhouette comes into focus, and my heart thumps like a kick drum as I recognize the curvature of the muscles under the microfiber of his golf shirt . You have got to be kidding me . “Carson,” I sputter. “Uh, hi .” He frowns at me but there’s no anger in his voice, thank God. I was so afraid he’d hate me after the way things ended the other night . “Hello,” he says evenly. “Fancy meeting you here, and all that .”

“I know, it’s crazy!” I say with way too much enthusiasm. “Uh, what are you doing here ?” “Me?” He seems startled. “Just, uh, walking. Beautiful day for it .” “Me too. Just walking .” We stand there, hands still holding the back of the chair, for what seems like an eternity. I feel like I’m swimming in awkwardness. I reaallly want to disengage and run away, but I also want to just stand here and stare at him in his shorts for the rest of my life. Those legs are like a stag’s, all bulges and coiled steel . Carson is the first one to disengage as his eyes wander above my head . “Richard!” he says, raising his chin to acknowledge someone behind me. “What’s up ?” I turn to see who he’s talking to and my blood freezes. It’s man in his late 60s, tall and fit, with a pompadour of silver hair. His silk shirt is a pale green, his slacks khaki. He looks like he stepped off the page of a J. Crew catalog. I’ve seen him before, on the pages of Forbes magazine . His name is Richard Linkletter, and he’s No. 11 on

the list of the richest men in America .

Chapter One Hundred Eighty-One 2 3. CARSON “Not much, Drake,” Richard says, extending his right hand. I let go of the chair and take it firmly. “How about you ?” “You know me,” I say with a shrug. “Same old, same old .” “Right,” he says with a grin. “Like jumping off a cliff in Trentino in a flying suit and landing on Lake Garda. Just another day at the office .” I shrug. “What can I say? Some of us are still young enough to enjoy our money .” He doubles over like he’s been punched. It’s an old routine between the two of us. Rich was on the board of the company that bought out Black Sword, and we hit it off during the price negotiations. He respected the fact that I did it myself rather than through lawyers. He’s old money, but he’s still a stand-up guy .

And suddenly I wonder if he’s also one of my competitors in the Chase . He’s married, but I don’t know how happily. Besides, I know plenty of men in my circle of influence who live their lives almost completely apart from their wives, only getting together as needed for dinner parties and charity events . It’s a lifestyle I can’t even imagine. If you’re lucky enough to find The One, why would you ever want to be apart? Why would you do anything to risk that kind of happiness ? Big talk, Carson. You haven’t talked to Cassie since the night at the restaurant, and when you run into her during your Chase, you act like she’s nothing more than an inconvenience . Speaking of Cassie, she looks as uncomfortable as I’ve ever seen her, and I realize I’m being terribly rude. My face colors with an uncharacteristic blush . “I beg your pardon,” I say, laying a hand on her shoulder. Her soft, freckled shoulder. “Cassandra Vincent, I’d like you to meet my friend Richard Linkletter .” “My pleasure,” he says, the words dripping with

old money charm. “How do you know Drake here ?” High school , I open my mouth to say. Before I can form the words, Cassie beats me to the punch . “We’re dating!” she says loudly . We are ? Her arm creeps around my waist in a sudden death grip, and she looks up at me with a fluorescent smile . Richard’s eyebrows arch. “Carson Drake, dating? That’s a new one .” I smile down at Cassie, trying to keep the confusion out of my expression. What’s going on here? Is this some sort of revenge for the games I played the other night ? “Well,” I say, “it’s early days. We just reconnected. Haven’t seen each other since high school .” “So you knew Drake here before he was rich?” he says to Cassie. “I’d love to pick your brain about that .” “He’s the same person he was back then,” she says.

“Smart. Sweet. Honest. Just a few more dollars and a few more muscles, that’s all .” She looks up at me. “Isn’t that right ?” Is it right? I spent a decade trying to turn myself into James Bond and George Clooney rolled into one. I thought I’d succeeded. Now, with a few words, Cassie has me wondering if I ever changed at all . And whether I should have even tried to in the first place . “You’d know,” I say. “I’m not a very good judge of character. I still think Richard here is a good man, despite all evidence to the contrary .” “I can always count on you for a laugh, Carson,” he says with a chuckle. “Anyway, I have to run. I’ve got a board meeting in ten .” He takes Cassie’s hand in his and kisses it, the old snake . “Lovely to meet you, Ms. Vincent .” “You, too,” she says. I can’t read the look on her face. Is it relief? I’d pay a million bucks to know what’s going on inside that head .

“Which board is it this time?” I ask . “The Museum of Sex up the street. Call it a charity gig .” “Seriously?” I grin. “Richard, there’s this thing called the Internet now. If you need, you know, release …” “Laugh it up, Drake,” he says. His nod tells me he’s heard that one before. “It’s actually a fascinating place. You should come. If you’ll pardon the expression .” He turns to Cassie. “Why don’t both of you join me? My treat .” “Big spender,” I say . Cassie looks as uncomfortable as I’ve ever seen her, and suddenly I’m thinking of ways to get out of this. To be honest, I really don’t need anything reminding me of the other night. Especially in shorts this tight . “I’m sorry, but I really have to run,” she says. I can’t blame her. This is awkward as hell . Especially the part about us dating. We obviously walked away from that encounter on two totally

different pages. I can’t be distracted by anything during the Chase. I may have already missed the quarry during the time I’ve wasted standing here . Cassie stands on her tiptoes and plants a delicious kiss on my lips. My cock begins to respond instantly, and I have to will it back down . “See you later,” she says with a wave, then quickly trots off down Fifth and cuts through the park . Richard flashes an indulgent smile at me . “It’s about time, young man,” he says. “She’s a prize .” He claps me on the shoulder and continues up the avenue toward his sex museum, leaving me standing there alone, wondering what the hell is happening – and what I’m supposed to do next .

Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Two 2 4. CASSANDRA My heartbeat is galloping as I speed walk across the park toward Twenty-Third Street Station and the subway that will get me the hell out of here . I had no choice. If I hadn’t, and if Richard Linkletter had handed me a little brass key, the Chase would have been over and there would be less than a million in my Cayman account. Nowhere near enough . I don’t want to think about the other part . I feel like I’m on a black ops mission and I just avoided the enemy fire sparking overhead. Lying is second nature to me, but I’ve never been in a situation where the consequences were – well, so real . Misinformation is standard operating procedure during a mission, because once the operation was over, everything resets. That’s not the case here .

Everything I do now has real-world consequences. I just told Carson we’re dating, and I have no idea how he feels about that. I have no idea how I feel about it. I don’t even know what it means . He didn’t contradict me, which is encouraging. But what if now he thinks he should call me? I can’t have a boyfriend during the Chase ! Can I ? I slow my pace as I reach the stairwell off the street down into the subway station. People rush past like ants on a hill, everyone going about their own business, close in body only. Their minds, like mine, are on other things . Probably not the same kind of things as mine, obviously. They’re wondering what to make for dinner. I’m wondering how to avoid capture. And how to avoid a sixty-year-old stranger taking my virginity . The train hisses to a stop and I hop on board. As it pulls away, I scan the car for anything out of the ordinary. An Armani suit, for example, or a platinum Rolex. It’s possible that my pursuers have dressed down for the occasion, but it’s been my experience that it’s hard to cover up the scent of money. It leaves a mark .

Only a handful of people are sharing the ride with me at this time of day: a pair of teen boys with their skateboards; an elderly Asian woman with three shopping bags; a tall Sudanese man eating a platform hot dog . No male billionaires here, unless Sudanese billionaires have a thing for cheap red frankfurters that taste like a mustard-covered salt lick . As I settle into the molded plastic seat, my phone vibrates. I turned the ringer off the minute the Chase started, just as a precaution; I don’t want any unnecessary attention drawn to me over the next two weeks. My training taught me that staying invisible means taking away anything that might cause someone to look in my direction . I groan as I see the caller ID: it’s Tricia. We haven’t spoken since the day Carson and I met in the ice cream shop. She’s called before but I haven’t picked up. Better not blow her off again or she’ll get suspicious. And in all honesty, I owe her a call. We’re supposed to be business partners, after all . I squeeze my eyes shut and hit the answer button . “Hey, Trish,” I say. “Sorry I never got back to you. It’s been a crazy week .”

“You are so dead to me,” she huffs. “I’m actually thinking of adopting you just so I can disown you .” “Oh, I’m fine, how are you ?” “Don’t try to be funny. You never called me to tell me about your date with Carson! What kind of bitch goes out with a rich demi-god and doesn’t call her best friend right after ?” Apparently, that’s what BFFs are supposed to do. I wouldn’t know, I’m new to this whole thing. I’ve never had a close friend like Tricia. I was always too busy studying, or training, or working. Or killing . All the things my father wanted me to do . “I’m waiting,” she says with practiced coldness in her voice. She obviously prepared for this . “A stupid one?” I offer . “A stupid one !” I chuckle in spite of myself. She’s got a way of pulling me out of my head and turning me in a direction that I never would have seen. It’s one of the reasons I love her so much .

“Sorry, sorry, a million times sorry,” I plead. “Can you forgive me ?” “That depends on the details. Hand ‘em over .” “There’s not much to tell,” I lie. “We toured the Museum of Modern Art and had dinner .” I leave out the extracurricular activity in the coatroom. Partly because I don’t want to talk about it, partly because it always makes my nipples pop. I’ve been thinking about it every night in bed. Masturbation is a wonderful sleep aid . “And?” “And I went home .” “You didn’t sleep with him ?” “No.” The line goes silent for a full five seconds . “Tricia?” “Now I wish I did adopt you,” she says. “Then I could have you committed, because you are fucking crazy !” “Hey, now …”

“Honey, you had the opportunity to make Carson Freakin’ Drake your first, and you didn’t take advantage of it! Believe me, any thirty-year-old straight guy who looks like him knows his way around a woman’s body. He has got that roadmap memorized .” Does he ever . Tricia thinks she’s helping, but all she’s done is remind me that there’s no way Carson can be my first. If I can just manage to hold things off for a couple weeks, though, maybe something can happen . Please, God, let it happen . “Look, it just wasn’t the right time,” I say . Boy, is that ever the understatement of the year . She clucks her tongue. “There’s no such thing as the right time when it comes to your first, Sandra .” “Cassie.” “What?” “I decided I want to go by Cassie now .” “Seriously? One date with Carson Drake and you

want to change your name? And yet it ‘wasn’t the right time ?’” I sigh. This conversation is going south faster than a flock of Canada geese . “Tricia, to be honest, I don’t even know how he feels about me. I mean, we spent a few minutes together that morning and then had dinner .” “That’s why I’ve been calling you !” I see the stop for Fifty-Seventh Street Station coming up, so I head to the door and grab the stabilizer bar. My plan is to walk the couple of blocks to Central Park and lose myself in it for the afternoon . “I don’t understand,” I say. “Look, Tricia, I have to go .” “Listen to me, bitch – and I don’t say that lightly: if you hang up right now, I will break up with you for six months. Do you understand me ?” I roll my eyes as I step out of the car onto the platform . “All right, all right, what is so fucking important ?”

“Carson Drake has been in the shop every day since you two met up that morning !” I stop in my tracks and the two teens run right into my back, knocking me forward. They dash up the stairs without even looking back. Part of me wants to yell after them, but I’m too stunned . “I thought that might get your attention,” Tricia says smugly . “Has he – has he asked about me ?” “Not specifically, but he’s talked to me each time. I didn’t pry, even though I should have, because my soon-to-be-former best friend doesn’t feel the need to tell me anything .” “Thank you for that, Trish. Things between us are – complicated .” “Well you better un-complicate them quick, girl, or I might just try to boat that fish myself. A prize like that starts swimming around, I can’t be blamed if I decide to drop a line in the water .” I grin and shake my head . “Give me two weeks. That’s all I ask .”

“Two weeks and that’s all. After that, I make no promises .” “All right,” I say, pausing at the stairs that lead up to the street. “And I really am sorry. I promise I’ll be in tomorrow. We need to talk business, anyway .” “Fine. I’ll try not to be mad at you by then. Peace out .” As I slide my phone closed and drop it in my purse, I glance at my reflection in a polished steel panel on the wall. Hair’s okay, make-up still good. I glance down to my blouse . My nipples are standing at attention like soldiers . Sigh.

Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Three 2 5. INTERLUDE The big man steps out of his spot under a weeping willow in Madison Square Park and into General Worth Square. His eyes follow Carson as he heads northeast on Fifth Avenue . This is highly unusual. Two contestants meeting with the quarry, neither of them giving her their key. Then the quarry leaves, and the contestants walk away in different directions . It makes no sense. Unless … He takes out his phone and dials a number . “Yes?” the voice says in Russian . “Something is happening. Something we’ve never seen before .” “What?” “I am not sure just yet,” he says. “But I fear we

may have been compromised .”

Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Four 2 6. CARSON Sometimes being a nerd can come in handy. I mean, outside of building and selling multi-billion-dollar tech companies . The computer server room in my penthouse is something to see, although no one else ever has. The window wall that looks out on the Manhattan skyline actually acts as my monitor, reflecting multiple desktops projected from a lens that’s set into the ceiling. It allows me to see images at almost life size . I created a program the night the Chase began that’s been helping me narrow down my leads. It combines facial recognition software with a reverse search engine for image files, and it all works in a Tor browser. Translated, that just means I upload photos I’ve taken and the program analyzes the facial features. Then it searches the dark web for any potential matches in its clandestine databases .

Of course, that might all be unnecessary; the information might be out there on the plain old Internet, so I’m also running the program on social media . Personally, I limit just about everything about me online. Nobody needs to know where I live, or what I’m doing, or how much I’m worth. That’s one of the reasons I’ve managed to stay off the Forbes list for so long . So between the dark web and Facebook, I should be able to wrap up the Chase long before my competitors. Richard Linkletter may have more money in the bank, but he’s Forrest Gump compared to me when it comes to gray matter . Even with the hardware I’ve rigged up, the process takes time. The system is currently working on camera phone pics I snapped of three different women I’ve seen multiple times in different spots around midtown. All during the day, which precludes a regular job . None of them were in expensive designer clothes or shoes, so they’re probably not rich. All of them are stunning, and they move like they’ve had training. Little things like walking with their feet pointed forward, instead of at an angle .

It stabilizes the knees and makes it easier to avoid injury in a fight-or-flight situation. One of the many things I learned from Matthias . I find myself comparing all of them to Cassie, and to that woman they come up short. I don’t know what she does to stay in shape, but it’s probably CrossFit or something else regimented. She moves like a natural athlete these days, which is amazing, since she never got involved in sports in school . Then again, neither did I, and look at me now . I’m staring at the screen from my custom-made gaming chair as thousands of potential matching images stream by on the window wall, when my phone chimes . It’s a text from Maksim: I am being downstairs. Up I come . I leave the program to its task and head out into the living room. There’s a half-full decanter of Macallan’s on the bar – I picked up a bottle after my encounter with Red Dress at the Regent bar because damn, it was good . Of course, it better be at thirty grand a bottle . The aroma hits my nostrils as I pour the scotch into

a couple of crystal glasses. I carry them to the elevator door that opens onto my living room just as I reach it. Maksim’s hand is open to receive it as soon as he walks into the room. After all, when you’re born into money, you become accustomed to the little details . From the outside, it must look like a choreographed scene out of a movie. It’s just one of the rituals we’ve developed over the course of our friendship. We’re cool like that . Says the geek who threw together a computer program in one night . “What is up, my homey?” Maks grins, raising his hand for a fist-bump. Every time he does it I want to slap him – fist bumps are so ten years ago – but I indulge him. He’s trying . “Chillin’ like a villain,” I grin back as we amble over to the study that adjoins the living room . Unlike the modern functionality of the rest of the 6,000 square feet, the study is done in rich wood and hand-woven Persian rugs. I designed it to look like the British gentlemen’s clubs I used to read about in Sherlock Holmes stories when I was a kid . We take our seats in a pair of antique wingback

chairs. All that’s missing is a couple of Cuban cigars. Matthias would literally beat me with a rusty rake if he ever found out I’d been smoking, of course, so the air remains unpleasantly clear . Maks holds the first sip of scotch in his mouth for a moment, savoring it before it goes down. At least he has enough class to do that . We catch up for a while on what we’ve been up to. I’m sparse on details, of course, because we can’t talk about the Chase, even behind closed doors . Then Maks decides to throw me a curveball . “So, Carson,” he says with a grin. “When were you going to be telling me about your new red hair friend ?” I almost choke on my drink . “What are you talking about?” I say, trying to be nonchalant . “The other day, I am walking past that Patty’s icy cream place you go to and I see you talking to the lovely red hair lady through the window glass .” His grin is supposed to put me at ease, but for some reason it only succeeds in annoying me .

“She’s a friend of mine from high school,” I say. “No big deal .” “Yes big deal! Front of Wall Street Journal kind of deal. She is drop down gorgeous, my friend. I hope you enjoyed your time with her. When is, how you say, acquisition and merger ?” “Merger and acquisition,” I correct him automatically. “But it wasn’t like that. She’s a friend .” She’s obviously more than that; she said so herself. But I don’t know what I think anymore . Maks smiles and nods . “You are making joke,” he says. “I get it .” “No joke. Cassie and I aren’t … together .” “Cassie,” he sighs. “Like Cassiopeia, the constellation of stars. Breathtaking .” I can’t argue with him there . “So you are not with her? You are not pulling on my leg, are you ?” “No pulling,” I say. “Besides, we both know I’m … busy on something else right now. I have other

things on my mind .” He nods thoughtfully . “So you will not be angry if I am making the move on this beautiful red hair ?” Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hell to the no . “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I say, desperately searching my brain for a plausible reason to say that . “But why are you saying so? You are not interested .” Suddenly it comes to me . “Cassie and I used to be really good friends,” I say. “If you started ... you know, pursuing her, it would just be weird. Like if you were dating my sister. You know ?” Maks frowns. “It would be the honor if you dated my sister,” he says . I bet it would be. I’ve seen his sister – her eyebrows are even thicker than his . “You know what I mean,” I say .

“I think I know that you don’t want anyone else to have her, even if you don’t want her yourself. That is not cool, tovarishch .” “Look, I’m not going to go after any woman until I’m finished with … my activities for the next couple of weeks. After that, I don’t know what’s going to happen. Cassie and I might develop into something .” Maks drains his glass and stands up. I can’t remember him ever being angry with me, but right now he’s about as close as I’ve ever seen . “I think that is being pretty selfish,” he says. “And you are not the boss of me. If I want to talk to Cassie the red hair, I will do it. Maybe she will like me. You don’t know that she won’t .” “Maks…” I follow him into the living room, where he calls up the express elevator that only comes to my floor. He avoids my gaze, flipping through messages on his phone as he waits . “We’re friends,” I say. “Friends do favors for friends .” He looks up from his phone, as serious as I’ve ever

seen him . “Like introduce you to women everywhere we go?” he asks. “Like make sure there is always party going on with beautiful ladies ?” Okay, he’s right on that one. I’ve hit him below the belt . The bell rings as the doors open. Maks steps in and turns to face me . “I am thinking maybe you need to look at yourself in the mirror,” he says. “If you have so many thoughts of Cassie the red hair, why are you chasing someone else you don’t know even know what she looks like ?” I have no answer as the elevator doors close in front of him, sending him straight to the ground floor .

Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Five 2 7. CASSANDRA I’m at the stage where faces are starting to look familiar, which means it’s time to up my game . It’s not easy to keep track of them all. In my work, I always had a database to reference, teams of analysts forwarding me data, or a surveillance control with access to satellites or other means of tracking and identifying people . In the Chase, all I have is my wits. I’m not allowed to use any work-related technology. Even if I could, I’d be hard-pressed to pull it off without my former employers finding out . That would mean my father finding out, and I definitely don’t feel like explaining the Chase to him. Somehow, I just don’t think he’d understand. Hard to say which would mortify him the most: the fact I was selling my virginity, or the fact I was taking money from the Russian mob .

Honestly, I don’t know which side bothers me more . The curtains part as the lights go down, and suddenly the stage is full of nerdy men in black pants, short-sleeved white shirts and black ties. They’re singing a song called “Hello” to the packed house, and it’s hilarious enough to make me forget about the Chase for a few minutes . This afternoon matinee of The Book of Mormon is a rare opportunity to slip into darkness and out of the line of fire for a couple of hours. I’m surrounded by people giggling their way through the number as the actors portray Mormon missionaries trying to charm their way into the homes of potential converts . The show continues along that vein, and I keep on laughing along with the crowd. This is a welcome respite from the stress of the last several days. It’s almost as pleasant as looking at the balance in my Cayman account this morning: $1.5 million . For six days of work . Finally, we reach the intermission and the lights come up. My instincts kick in and I immediately scan the theater. Nothing sets off any alarms, but in such a crowded place, it’s best to keep moving .

There are four separate lines for the bar, all long enough that I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to get a drink before the lights go down again. But it gives me an opportunity to stand in one place for a while and look bored. Hiding in plain sight . I check my watch repeatedly, keeping up with the others around me. There’s a large contingent of what I assume are Asian tourists to my right, chatting in Mandarin . Then I look to my left and I feel adrenaline rush into my system. I’ve seen the squat, balding man in the line to my left, two spots ahead, several times in the last few days. He’s hard to miss, with the nest of auburn hair circling the dome of his head and squinty eyes that look like he’s perpetually staring into the sun . He was at Patty’s two afternoons ago and I saw him again outside Carnegie Hall, both of which are on the list of places I provided to the organizers of the Chase. I don’t recognize his face from Forbes, but going from memory has never been my strong point . I have to assume he’s onto me . The couple in front of me look at their watches and sigh loudly before leaving the line. Suddenly I’m

beside the bald man . An idea comes to me just as he turns his head in my direction . I roll my eyes and reach into my purse, pulling out my phone. I angrily stab the screen, as if to answer a call . “What?” I snap. “Can’t I have five minutes peace ?” The man glances around the line, not focusing on me . “What do you mean you don’t know where she is?” I grouse into the phone. “She has to be there, the recital ended ten minutes ago .” Next thing I know, I’ve locked eyes with him. He looks at me for a beat before I give him my best NYC “the fuck you lookin’ at?” expression . “Yeah, I’m here,” I say, turning away from him. “Some idiot was trying to hit on me. Listen, I don’t have time for this. She’s probably talking to Janey .” I raise my voice. “Janey! How do you not know what she looks like? She’s been to our place a

dozen times!” Exasperated sigh. “You know what, I don’t have time for this. Figure it out! The curtain’s going to go up in a minute and I didn’t even get my wine .” I poke the screen again, toss the phone into my purse and storm back toward the theater entrance. As people mill past, I do a button hook and head back out on the other side of the crowd. I stop in an alcove near the entrance to the ladies room and take up a surveillance position . My eyes follow the bald man as he scans the room in frustration. Finally he looks at his watch and shakes his head. With a dejected look, he heads for the exit . I wait several minutes before going back into the line at the bar. If I didn’t need a drink before, I definitely need one now. That was one hell of a close shave . With the second half of the show underway, the line has thinned out considerably and I manage to find a spot at the counter right away . “What can I get you?” the girl asks. She’s dressed like a man, with a bow tie and black vest . “Chardonnay, please,” I say, digging out my wallet.

“The biggest glass you’ve got .” She fills a nine-ounce glass and slides it over to me . “That’ll be $16.50,” she says . Call the cops! Even with a million plus in the bank, I wince at the price . “I’ve got it,” says a familiar voice behind me . You’ve got to be kidding me. I turn around to see the familiar face that goes with the voice. That chiseled chin and sweeping blond hair, those smoky gray eyes . “Hello, Cassie,” he says . I play it cool, even though nothing could be further from the truth. My heart is pounding. I feel like my ribcage could explode at any moment . “Hello, Carson,” I say. “Long time no see .”

Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Six 2 8. CARSON I’ve never been one to believe in anything I couldn’t see. I’m a scientist through and through: you better be able to prove anything you expect me to believe, or you run the risk of having your argument systematically dismantled . Needless to say, I don’t believe in any New Age nonsense. Nothing drives me up the wall like people who talk about how everything is connected, claiming that “quantum physics proves it.” Just don’t get me started . But I just can’t ignore this anymore: it’s happened too many times. Something extraordinary is definitely going on here. I mean, it’s almost enough to make a die-hard skeptic believe in the concept of fate . Cassie is obviously getting used to it, too. We’re at Holeo’s, a little donut place on the waterfront. It’s the fifth time this week that we’ve randomly run

into each other while I was tracking the quarry . “You still love chocolate, I see .” Cassie turns and smiles sheepishly at me through the rim of dark brown around her lips . “Please tell me I don’t have donut icing all over my face,” she says. “Even if I do, please tell me that I don’t .” “You don’t have donut icing all over your face,” I lie, handing her a napkin. She wipes her lips and tosses the smeared paper into the trash . I’m here because I managed to come up with three likely suspects via my computer program. One is an FBI agent currently on a sabbatical from teaching at Quantico, one is a retired Army intelligence major, and the third is an analyst with a defense contractor in Iraq, home for six weeks vacation. Any of those would be a perfect cover for a black ops agent . All of them are from the south, though I haven’t been able to determine whether they graduated from any of the military colleges. Those records aren’t easily accessible to the public, and I’m not about to hack them. That would be cheating. And, more to the point, illegal .

None of them are here right now, unfortunately. This is turning out to be more frustrating that I would have thought possible. The upside, of course, is that none of my competitors is any further ahead than me . I hope . “It’s almost eerie,” Cassie says, shaking her head. “You know me – peer-reviewed evidence to the core. But I mean, come on. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were stalking me .” I’m stalking someone, but it’s not her. Although of course I’m not about to tell Cassie that. This situation is already fucked up enough as it is . “Hey,” I say. “I could say the same thing. Anybody who knows me knows Dino’s coconut caramel is my only weakness.” I frown. “Don’t tell Matthias .” Her laughter at our running joke is like a wind chime on the soft breeze coming off the river. It’s a welcome respite from the heat of the day. Summer has been a scorcher so far this year, and there’s no relief in sight. Especially when I’m sitting across from Cassie . Our eyes meet for a moment and suddenly I’m

locked there like a magnet. Everything about her is perfection: the curves under her halter and shorts threaten to make me hard right here in the middle of the street. My mind flashes back to our encounter in the coatroom, just like it has every night since as I lie awake in my bed, trying to make the tent under my sheets go down . There’s only one way to do that solo, unfortunately . “Do you have time to sit?” I ask, waving at a small metal table and chairs. It’s the best way to hide my erection . “A few minutes, yes .” Her shorts follow the curve of her buttocks perfectly, allowing just a hint of ivory skin to peek out underneath the fabric. Not that I’m looking . I take a bite of my cone and try to act casual . “How’s the capital raise going ?” “Good,” she says. “Another few days and I should have all my ducks in a row .” “That’s great. What kind of timeline are you looking at for construction on the new place ?”

“As soon as possible. I’ve got a company out of Long Island lined up. They just need the green light on funding .” “And Tricia is ready with the recipes ?” “She will be. She says hi, by the way. She totally thinks you hung the moon .” I smile. “She seemed like a nice girl .” “She’s the best friend I ever had,” she says. Her eyes lock on mine again. “Except you .” That’s it, I have to say it. I’ve avoided it every other time, but not anymore . “What’s going on with us, Cassie ?” She looks away, her cheeks suddenly pink . “I’m sorry about the other day with your friend,” she says. “I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have said we were dating. That was presumptuous .” “Things have been pretty weird since that night at the museum .” “My life is just really complicated right now. I – I want us to get to know each other again. But it’s

going to take some time .” I nod. Every time we talk like this, it’s like the Chase just flies out the window and Cassie is all I care about . “I get that this deal is very important to you,” I say. “Maybe I could get in on – ” “No!” she says, eyes wide. “This is something I have to do on my own. I have to prove that I can, to myself and my father .” That doesn’t surprise me. To call Cassie’s dad overbearing would be like calling Justin Bieber a singer. It gets the basics right, but it misses the magnitude. Besides, I don’t blame her for not wanting to take the easy route – my money. Hell, it only makes me respect this amazing girl even more . But still, I want to help . “What about this,” I say. “You come over to my place for dinner and we can go over your business plan. I’ve got some experience in that department. I might have some insight that you and Miranda haven’t considered .” “I – I don’t think that’s a good idea .”

There’s that uncomfortable look again. This is so frustrating! What isn’t she telling me ? “Why not?” I ask. “It’s just dinner. That’s not unusual for people who are supposedly dating, is it ?” My voice comes off snider than I want it to, and suddenly Cassie is getting up from the table . “I have to go,” she says, throwing her purse over her shoulder . She won’t look me in the eye . “Cassie, I’m sorry, let’s – ” “I can’t. I have to go .” She strides off toward the piers, disappearing into the crowds wandering by to take advantage of the breeze on a hot afternoon. In less than a minute, I’ve lost sight of her entirely .

Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Seven 2 9. CASSANDRA I hurry along the waterfront, trying to put as much distance between me and Carson as I can, as quickly as possible. I feel like such an ass. I wish I could just tell Carson anything, like in the old days. But of course, I can’t. Rule number one in the Chase – you don’t talk about the Chase , To anyone. No matter how much you care for them . The afternoon sun is hot against my exposed skin, baking me the way only a redhead can experience. Sweaty people flow past me in both directions, snapping photos of the water, laughing, arguing, chatting. Doing all the things normal people do . I don’t cry. I never cry. It’s not what CIA agents do . We analyze, we pretend, we think, we act. We endure. Sometimes we kill .

But we don’t cry . When I’m sure I’m out of Carson’s line of sight, I turn left and head down Forty-Ninth Street to Hell’s Kitchen. Despite the name, it’s actually a beautiful neighborhood. For the most part . There are still a few areas that aren’t gentrified yet, but at least I know there won’t be any old billionaires following me in here. And if there are, they’ll stick out like a sore thumb . It gives me a chance to let my guard down and gather my thoughts . As if I could possibly get the storm swirling inside me right now under control . Why couldn’t I take Carson up on his invitation to dinner? I’m not a proud woman, and in all honesty, his experience could really help me with the deal . His negotiating skill alone would be an asset worth millions. I don’t know all the details – it felt somehow strange to look them up, as though I was working an asset – but from what little I’ve been able to find out, he sold Black Sword for a serious amount of money . I need to stop trying to fool myself .

I know why I couldn’t have dinner with him. First is that my story about selling my business to raise capital is paper-thin. Carson is sharper than anyone else I’ve ever known. He’d see through it in five minutes . Second is that I know damn well I’d end up in bed with him. No question about it . But would that really be so bad ? For what seems like the millionth time, I imagine going with Carson, giving in to what we both clearly feel . Just letting it all go: no more Chase, no more lies. Surrendering to him, letting his body come together with mine and finally reaching the heights that I’ve heard so much about . And Carson’s rich; I could get him to invest my share to build Tricialicious, and pay him back over time with the profits . There are only two problems with that scenario: first, I’d be relying on him to make my dreams come true for me. And I might not be a proud woman, but I’m definitely too proud for that . Second, I’d be breaking the rules of the Chase .

Somehow, I don’t think I’d be able to walk away from that scenario unscathed. I don’t know what the woman in the red dress’s “associates” are capable of, but I get the feeling they’re not above making someone disappear . I might be able to survive in that situation, but not without everyone I know and love finding out that I was in a competition to sell my virginity. I can’t imagine what Carson would think of that. I mean, what would he think of me when he found out I was that kind of girl ? And, of, course, it would come out that I’m a former CIA operative. I watched what that did to my family once. I won’t watch it happen again . I stop for a moment and look up at the buildings; I don’t even know where I am anymore. The street is lined with brownstones on the west side and tenements on the east. The trees are throwing welcome shade down on my blistering shoulders . At this point in the chase, I’m amazed anything can startle me anymore, but a voice does . “Need help, honey ?” I look down at a woman in her sixties, sitting on a folding chair beside a flower stand. I assume she’s

Betty from the “Betty’s Bouquets” clapboard sign propped on the sidewalk in front of the stand . “I’m fine,” I say with a smile. “Just realized I’ve never been down this street before. It’s very pretty .” “Not as pretty as the lady who’s callin’ it pretty,” she says. Her own grin highlights a set of slightly oversized dentures, and sends up dual fans of laugh lines at the corners of her eyes . I scan the riot of colors in her inventory: white and orange lilies, roses in red, yellow, pink, even blue, and, of course, a rainbow of daisies and carnations. All look as if they just came off the bush . “I bet you say that to all your customers,” I laugh . “Honey, most of my customers is husbands who f’got they anniversaries. Not often I get one of you uptown models wanderin’ down my street. What brings you down here, honey ?” She’s so sweet I don’t try to correct her. Model is about the last career choice I’d ever have gone in for . “I’m trying to get away from a boy,” I admit .

Her grin widens, if that’s possible . “Oh, the troubles we gotta endure,” she chuckles. “Lemme guess: he’s chasin’ you with a big ol’ diamond ring and you don’t wanna be tied down .” She’s got me on the ropes now. I have to buy something . “Not exactly,” I say. “But – well, he is rich .” “Course he is .” “But there’s … something that I have to do before we can be together .” Whoa, when did I start telling strangers my life story ? “So you do want him ?” “Yes.” God, so much it aches . “Honey, I know you din’t ask my advice, but it’s been my experience that waitin’ to do things is a bad idea. That’s how life passes you by .” Wise words from a flower lady, I guess. But then it’s not like I’m finding it anywhere else. Sometimes you need to talk to a stranger to find the truth you need to hear. The truth that’s staring you right in

the face . Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a portly older gentleman walking toward us from the north. His skin is so deeply tanned it borders on leathery, but his bald scalp appears pink under his Dallas Cowboys ball cap. Must have had too much sun this afternoon . “Afternoon, ladies,” he drawls in a thick Texan accent, lifting his cap in salute. “Wonderful day .” “It is indeed,” says Betty. “Even finer with a pretty lady and a handsome gentleman .” She really is the perfect saleswoman. The Texan looks over her wares and points to a bouquet of blindingly white roses. Their marked price is $50, which, for a forgetful husband, isn’t terribly high, I suppose . “I’ll take those, my dear,” he says . Betty stands up from her folding chair and wraps the roses in green paper . “Breathtaking,” she says as she hands them to him. “Whoever’s gettin’ em is a lucky girl .” The Texan turns and hands them to me .

“I don’t know about lucky, but she certainly is breathtaking .” What? “No sir, I couldn’t possibly – ” I stammer . “Miss, I’m a single man on vacation in the big city, and you’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a coon’s age,” he says with a grin. “How ‘bout you indulge me ?” He lowers his sunglasses to look me in the eye . “Not gonna take no for an answer .” Betty looks from him to me and back to him . He flips a wave at us with one meaty hand and whistles off down the street . “See y’all later!” he calls back. “Have a wonderful day .” Betty starts to giggle uncontrollably . “Oh, the troubles some girls has,” she says as she sits back down in her folding chair . I look down at the roses, than at the Texans backside as it recedes down the street .

How did an old Texan and a streetside flower lady manage to get the best of a CIA operative ? I can’t help it. I join in Betty’s laughter until we both have tears streaming down our cheeks .

Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Eight 3 0. CARSON Each time I come into Patty’s looking for the quarry, I end up running into Cassie. So, of course, when I come in looking for Cassie, she’s not here . It would be the height of irony if one of my preferred suspects was here right now, but no such luck. At this time of morning – after the pre-work crowd but before the coffee break crowd – there’s only a handful of customers . I sit down near an elderly couple, sipping tea and poring over sections of the Times as they share one of Tricia’s exquisite raspberry scones . “Carson!” I turn to see Tricia waving frantically at me from behind the front counter. I smile and wave back. I’ve managed to avoid her on my previous trips in here on the Chase, mostly because I didn’t want to start a conversation that I know was just going to

distract me . Too late now, I guess . She fills a cup with black coffee and trots over to my table, bounding with energy . “Good to see you again!” she says with far too much enthusiasm, setting the coffee in front of me. A few black droplets spill over the edge of the cup . “Thanks, you too. Can you join me ?” “Hey, I’m the owner, I can do whatever I want .” She plunks down in the chair opposite me and leans forward on her elbows . “So,” she says. “I’ve seen you in here lately but I never got to talk to you. How are things ?” Hmm. Why am I suddenly picturing an interrogation room and a hot light? Now, if Cassie tried her hand, I’m not sure I’d be able to resist. Still, I have a feeling that whatever I say is going to go straight back to her. I’ll try to sidestep any potential embarrassment . “They’re great, Trish. How about you? Is the deal coming along ?”

She waves a dismissive hand. “I let Sandra look after that. I mean Cassie .” What’s this, now ? “She doesn’t go by Sandra anymore ?” Tricia props her elbows on the table and drops her chin into her hands with a theatrical flourish . “Not since you walked back into her life,” she says, batting her comically long false lashes at me . Huh. I take a sip of my coffee, mostly to avoid having to say something back. I don’t know how to process all this stuff . Also, the timing sucks: my cocky belief that I’d win the Chase within a few days was obviously unfounded. There are only a few days left to go, and the hotel key is still firmly lodged in my pocket. I’d be astounded if anyone has made near as much progress as me, but that doesn’t make it any easier to take. It’d kill me to see it devolve into a bidding war for this woman’s virginity . Honestly, I’m not even sure that I would place a bid. It would almost feel like cheating. Maybe, just maybe, I could get involved to save the poor woman from the clutches of one of my less savory

colleagues . “How did your date go last week?” Tricia asks out of the blue, and I almost spray coffee all over her apron. I manage to choke it down instead . “You know about that ?” She rolls her eyes. “Cassie is my BFF; I know everything .” Everything? “So she told you about the coatroom,” I say, wincing . Tricia leans back in her chair . “The coatroom,” she says with a knowing nod. “Mm-hm. Yup .” “Not my finest moment, I’ll admit .” “Why, uh, why do you say that ?” My eyebrows go up. Maybe Tricia’s into kinky stuff and public sex isn’t a taboo. In any case, she’s not judging me. It’s good to finally be able to talk about it with someone . “Well, I mean, I don’t normally go pawing women

in public places, especially on the first date .” “Uh-huh.” She picks up a toothpick and starts gnawing on it. “Of course not .” “Although, I guess it wasn’t technically our first. I mean, we were together for almost two years in high school .” “Why did you guys stop ?” “Stop dating ?” Should I tell her? Hell, why not? In for a penny, in for a pound . “Cassie stood me up on our prom night and disappeared. Her family moved to another base, and she never got in touch with me .” Tricia frowns. “She did that ?” “Yeah.” “I was talking about the coatroom. Why you stopped – well, you know .” Oh, shit . “But really? She just ran out on you at prom ?”

“It was bad timing,” I say. “I’m sure she had her reasons .” I wish I’d never sat down. Now I have to backtrack on all this. It didn’t mean to turn this into a Cassiebashing session . “Let me guess: Cassie stopped things in the coatroom when they got heavy .” My eyes narrow. “I thought she told you all about it .” “Look, we’re past that now,” she says. “Was it Cassie that put a stop to things ?” “Well, I sure didn’t. It was all I could do to put on the brakes .” “And she was all weird after it, right ?” I nod. “I have to admit, I’m not used to that. Usually it’s the woman who can’t stop .” Tricia grins. “If you do say so yourself …” “I own a mirror, Trish,” I say with a shrug and a grin of my own, so she knows I’m joking. “Full length, too .” She breaks up cackling at that, which does a lot to

ease the tension I’ve been feeling since she sat down. Tricia is a good friend; I’m glad Cassie has her in her corner. She’s never really had someone like that to rely on . Well, not as far as I know, anyway. Lately, it seems like I’m constantly reminded of all the things I don’t know about her . Tricia’s laughter trails off and she leans forward again. When she speaks, it’s in a whisper . “I think I may know what the problem is,” she says . “You do?” I whisper back . What’s with the conspiracy ? “First, you need to know that I would never break a friend’s trust under any other circumstances,” she says in a lecturing tone. “I’ve got Cassie’s back, you feel me? And if you ever hurt her, I’ll be the first one coming at your balls with a pair of live chainsaws .” “I don’t doubt that for a second,” I say. It’s the truth. A part of me wonders how she could go about holding two chainsaws at once, but I quickly focus my attention .

“The reason Cassie’s being so weird is that… well, she doesn’t have the same level of, you know, experience that you do .” I frown. “What’s that got to do with it ?” “Think about it: you’re – well, you’re you . You said it yourself, you own a full-length mirror. And you’re rich and successful and super-cool and everything else that comes along with it. Private jets and supermodels and God only knows what else .” She’s right. I know how that sounds, but I don’t have any illusions about myself. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished; I worked incredibly hard to achieve it all . “Now here’s Cassie, on a date with you, and she doesn’t know what to do .” “What do you mean?” I ask. “How does she not know what to do? It’s pretty simple .” Tricia leans in close and lays a hand on top of mine. I glance down and see the tattoo of Tinkerbell that rests on the crook of her thumb . “Carson, you’re too smart to be so dense,” she says with a soft smile .

I sit there, blinking at her . “Obviously I’m not,” I say . But that’s not true. Dawn is breaking somewhere in the back of my mind. I can practically hear it cracking, like a monstrous iceberg of stupidity that’s finally hit warmer waters . “Cassie’s never been with a man in that way,” Tricia says. “She’s a virgin .” And suddenly my heart is pounding so hard I fear it’s going to burst right out of my chest .

Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Nine 3 1. CASSANDRA The roses my new Texan boyfriend bought me survived the subway ride back home yesterday, and they’re still doing well in their vase on my dining table this afternoon . That probably has something to do with all the natural light my apartment lets in. It may be small – find me one in Manhattan that isn’t, outside of Carson’s – and overpriced, but it’s bright. Southern exposure bathes the kitchen-living room space in sunshine most of the day, and the east-facing window in my bedroom wakes me with the rising sun every morning . The exception, of course is the panic room. The only source of light in here is the single bulb that illuminates my work laptop. The green text on the screen shows me something that has become something of a talisman for me over the past two weeks: my Cayman account balance .

$2,500,000.00 USD . Two and a half million dollars. One million away from my goal. Four more days. So close, I feel like I could almost touch it . The computer whirs softly as I shut it down and hit the light switch. As always when I leave my office, I think of the Pevensie children from the Chronicles of Narnia, leaving the wardrobe and returning home . Of course, my Narnia is a paranoiac’s wet dream, not a magical kingdom . The light shrinks my pupils as I emerge into my bedroom, and I’m blind for a moment. I stop at my bed and sit for a moment as my eyes adjust. As I do, I think about yesterday: about the flowers, the Texan, Betty’s advice . “Oh, the troubles some girls has,” I say out loud . My phone chooses that moment to vibrate. At first I think it’s my alarm, telling me I’ve spent enough time at home and better get my butt out the door and onto the streets, so as not to violate the rules of the Chase . But then I glance at it and see Carson’s number .

Do I really want to answer ? I hit ignore call and drop it into my purse, then scoop up my keys and head for the front door . The walk to Patty’s is a good fourteen blocks from my place, but I need the exercise to keep my head clear. The cadence of my heels clicking against the sidewalk sets a rhythm that lets my mind become passively aware, noticing but not thinking. Meditating, almost . After several minutes of this, I turn off the avenue and onto an adjoining street, just to keep myself from falling into a pattern. As I do, my breath catches in my throat . Walking right toward me is the man from the theater . I can’t slow down or I’ll look suspicious. As I close the gap, he seems to notice me. Recognition dawns in his eyes. I wish I had my phone in my hand to pull the same trick, but I don’t . Our eyes meet as we pass, and I surprise myself by stepping toward him and raising my arms in a menacing pose . “D’ja get a good look, you fucking perv?” I holler.

“You think I don’t remember you? Maybe I should call my husband to come talk to you, is that what it’s gonna take ?” His eyes nearly pop out of his round face as he speed-walks down the street away from me . “Yeah, you better fucking run!” I call after him. “Creep !” I head back toward my original route and let the adrenaline flow back out. I realize now that I was pushing things by using the same routine twice. I also realize that the Chase is still on, and that I need to be on my guard at all times . My phone buzzes. Carson again. I ignore it again . The blocks flow past me: trees, people, flowers, architecture, all the things that make New York City so unlike any other place in the world. Thomas Wolfe once said you belong to this city as much in five minutes as in five years, and I believe it. It’s hypnotic, especially on a beautiful day like today . Which makes what happens next that much more jarring. As I turn the corner to head back onto Forty-Second Street, I run face-first into a tall wall of man heading the other way .

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, trying to recover my bearings . When I finally do, I look up to see Carson Drake’s gorgeous gray eyes looking down into mine. He’s out of breath . “Don’t you ever answer your phone?” he pants .

Chapter One Hundred Ninety 3 2. CARSON “Look, I just wanted to invite you to dinner again tonight,” I say, propping my hands on my thighs . I’m more out of breath than I’d like to admit. Sprinting eight blocks will do that to you, even when you spend three hours a day in the gym. Then again, I’ve always been more into strength training than cardio . Cassie’s fiery brows draw down over her eyes and she looks away. I don’t blame her . “Carson, we’ve been over this,” she says. “I can’t. Not right now .” That’s my cue to surrender. I hold up my hands, palms forward. You got me, sheriff . “Just dinner ,” I say. “At a restaurant. Nowhere near my apartment .” She gives me a sidelong look .

“I really would like to discuss Tricialicious with you,” I say. “That’s where I was running from. I was just talking to Tricia about … a bunch of stuff .” I was also using my smartphone to confirm that you did, in fact, graduate from the Citadel at the top of your class . “I was hoping to catch you at your place, but here you are .” “What’s so urgent all of a sudden?” she asks warily . “I just think that there’s a situation that we need to discuss. It could have a drastic effect on your deal and how you move forward with it .” She sizes me up. I’ve never really noticed it before but Cassie can look pretty intimidating when she wants to . “This isn’t about you putting money in, is it?” she asks. “Because if it is, the answer is no .” “I wouldn’t dream of it .” Not right now, anyway .

“I just think there are some aspects to your situation that you might not have considered. I’ve sort of got … insider information that I think you’ll find very valuable .” She shakes her head, tossing those blazing curls, and crosses her arms over her chest . “I don’t want to get involved in anything that isn’t above board. Insider information is a slippery slope. And I’ve already told you, I want to do this on my own .” “It’s definitely not illegal,” I say, although a lawyer and a prosecutor would probably argue all day over that. “Tell you what: I’ll give you the information, and you decide whether it’s ethical or not to use it. That way, the choice is entirely up to you .” Her azure eyes soften . “Welll….” she says . I hold up my hand in a Boy Scout salute . “I solemnly swear that I won’t try to get you back to my place .” That does it: she finally cracks that radiant smile. Phew. I haven’t had to work that hard in a long

time . Then again, I’ve never cared about another woman the way I care about this one. For as long as I’ve known her, practically as long as I’ve been alive. And this is far and away the most important date of my life . Cassie doesn’t know it yet, but it’s the most important date of her life, too . “All right,” she says. “Is this going to be a fancy restaurant ?” “The fanciest .” She rolls her eyes . “I’d be just as happy at Burger King, you know .” “Humor me. I have a lot of disposable income. And I have to dispose of it somehow, since you won’t let me give any of it to you .” “All right. What’s it called ?” “Have you ever heard of Piccolo ?” She scrunches her face. “Hm… nope, strangely enough, I haven’t heard of your ridiculously fancy restaurant.” The she quickly adds: “It’s in

Midtown, right ?” “Yup. I guarantee you’re going to love it .” “It better not have a coatroom,” she says sternly . “No,” I chuckle. “No coatroom .” “So I need to wear a gown again ?” “You could wear exactly what you’re wearing right now and I’d be over the moon,” I say. “But you’d be the only woman in the restaurant dressed that way. Now, I personally think they’d all be jealous of you, but you might not agree .” “Fine,” she sighs. “If I have to .” I clap my hands and do an abysmal end-zone dance. “Yes !” “You are such a geek,” she giggles . “Takes one to know one .” Suddenly a shadow crosses her face. I can only imagine what she must be thinking. But whatever it is, I can understand . “Everything okay?” I ask, placing a hand on her creamy shoulder. The sensation is incredible. Just

laying a hand on her bare skin is enough to make me shiver . “It’s nothing,” she says with a quick smile. “I can’t wait for tonight .” That sparks a thought. I don’t really want to let her out of my sight until we meet for dinner. Not that I expect any problems, but there’s no point in tempting fate . “I’ve got an idea,” I say. “Why don’t you let me take you out right now and buy you a dress ?” The shadow is back again in an instant . “Carson, how many times do I have to tell you …” “Hear me out: we find you a dress, you wear it tonight, and then I donate it to a charity auction. You get an amazing gown, the Left-Handed Cellists Guild or some such group gets a donation, and I get a tax receipt .” Giggles again. That’s what I wanted to hear. What I needed to hear. As though Cassie’s laughter, her very happiness, is a drug that has me hooked. Hell, who am I kidding? I am hooked. Always have been .

She seems to be mulling it over. I’m pretty sure she’ll think it’s a good idea, too . “All right,” she says. “If it will make you happy, I’ll go shopping for an expensive evening gown. But you so owe me, buster .” There’s no way I could keep the smile off my face right now if I tried. I feel like this is our chance to finally go to the prom, and get it right this time. No jealousy, no bitterness, mulling over what could have been. Just Cassie and me, going on our very first date all over again , I cock an elbow at her and she slides a perfect arm through it, clasping her hands and locking on to me. If I had my way, she’d never let go . Please, whatever God there may be out there, let this night go as planned . “Well then,” I say, looking up at the sky. “Which direction to Oscar de la Renta ?” She actually gasps. Not just an intake of air, an actual gasp, like in an old-tyme movie . “You’re not serious,” she says, eyes like blue moons in her face .

“Sorry,” I say with a mock grimace. “It’s the only place that’s close .” She slams her shoulder into mine but doesn’t let go of my arm. We head north on Forty-Second, walking slowly. We’re not in any hurry. As far as I’m concerned, we can keep on walking arm-in-arm like this until, oh, say the year 2099 . “I should see if I can find a belt,” she says after a half a block . “Yeah? Need a new belt, do you ?” “Well, I need something I can strangle you with in case you decide to try anything tonight .” I feign shock. “I would never .” She giggles again. If she only knew .

Chapter One Hundred Ninety-One 3 3. CASSANDRA “I can’t believe I’m wearing $14,000 worth of clothes. That’s obscene .” I smile like a little kid and look at Carson. “Isn’t it ?” He settles back into his side of the limo’s bench seat and gives me an appreciative once-over . “Someone once told me wealth is relative,” he says. “Me spending fourteen grand would be equivalent to your average New Yorker spending eight bucks for a coffee, which they do all the time .” I do some quick math. Whoa . “Are you serious?” I ask. “Just how rich are you ?” He flashes mock annoyance . “Rich enough to be able to afford it when my date chooses the most expensive dress in the store ,” he

gripes . I slap him. “You chose it, you jackass! I was happy with that dark green one .” “Yeah, but that ugly old lady said plum compliments red hair, and I wasn’t going to argue with her. She’s the expert, after all .” “That was a man and you know it !” I tap the reverse camera on my phone and check out our digital reflection. The old lady – I mean man – was right, the purple totally works. Carson is in another tux, different from the one he wore to Modern. I guess that’s another way to answer my question: he’s rich enough to need more than one tuxedo. Until Carson, I’m not sure I knew anyone who even owned one . Against my better judgment, I snap a selfie. Like, I don’t want to be one of those girls. But sometimes it’s unavoidable. Like starting a sentence with “like.” Oh, gosh, I’m doing it again. How can one man have me so flustered ? “Let me see!” Carson crows . I suddenly remember that the previous photo in my library is of the woman in the red dress. A tiny stab

of panic goes through my belly as I tuck the phone into my purse before he can get his hands on it . “A girl’s phone is her castle,” I say. “Or something like that. You know what I mean .” “You’re absolutely right,” he says with mock gravity . “I like the sound of that .” Carson pulls a bottle of Salon champagne from a perspiring silver ice bucket in the console and pours us each a flute. The matching silver tray next to it is covered in a pyramid of chocolate-dipped strawberries that doesn’t seem to be shrinking, even though each of us had at least half a dozen . The interior of the limo is ringed by bands of polished cherry wood that gleam a deep auburn in the reflection of the bar lights. All in all, it’s the kind of place I just didn’t even think existed before I met Carson. For the second time, I mean . He raises his flute. “To ugly old men who look like women,” he says . “I’ll drink to that,” I giggle . A voice comes over the intercom from the front

seat . “Boss, we’re about a block from Piccolo .” “Thanks, Leonard,” Carson answers. “Let’s do a few laps before we go in. There’s still champagne to finish .” “You got it, boss .” “I can’t believe you pay a driver to be on standby all day,” I say, clucking my tongue . “He doesn’t cost me near what your dress did .” That’s it. I pummel him with both fists. He grabs my wrists and we play wrestle for a little bit. I’m having déjà vu so hard it’s almost a physical feeling. Still, there’s one thing I know for sure. There is no way he was this strong when we were in high school . “Besides,” he laughs. “It makes me feel good. Call it job creation .” After we settle for a moment, I take a deep breath and let it out in a sigh . “Do you remember when our study dates would devolve into stuff like this?” I ask .

He gives me a wistful smile. “Of course. It’s not like we had to study, so why not ?” “I always knew you had it in you, y’know .” “Had what in me ?” “This,” I say, waving a hand through the interior of the car. “The dress, the car, the driver on standby .” “Really?” “Okay, maybe not this level, but I knew you’d be a success .” He smiles. “You will be, too, Cassie. I’m positive of it .” “How do you know ?” He leans forward and plucks a couple more strawberries from the tray. I open my mouth and he slides one in. My lips close over his withdrawing fingertip for a moment until it pops out with a wet smacking sound . The look in his eyes is priceless . “Ask me again sometime,” he says. “Right now I want to focus on the moment .”

So do I. God, those eyes: the color of the morning fog in San Francisco bay. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear they could see right into my soul . I wonder what he would think if he actually could . “I want to talk about your career soon, too,” he says. “I bet it’s been fascinating .” No, thanks – we’re not going down that road . I swig back the dregs of my champagne and drop the glass into the little rack on the inside of the door . “Ask me again sometime,” I say, searching desperately for a humorous way out. “Right now, I’m starving and I want to see if I can spend as much of your money on food as I did on this dress .” “Challenge accepted,” he grins. His finger finds a panel on the door frame. “Leonard, we’re ready now .” “Just pulling up front as we speak, boss .” Seriously? We come to a stop and the door opens a couple of

seconds later. Leonard reaches in a gloved hand and helps me out onto the curb . “Ma’am,” he says, tipping his cap . Carson claps him on the shoulder and says thanks. Leonard slips behind the wheel again and is back in traffic almost immediately . “That’s why I keep Leonard on standby,” he says. “He’s worth every penny .” I take Carson’s arm again and he leads me toward the carved mahogany doors of Piccolo. I glance around, trying to get my bearings . “I don’t think I’ve ever been in this particular block before,” I say . “This is a pretty exclusive little area,” says Carson. “A lot of people pay a lot of money to be out of the public eye here. There’s a world-class boutique hotel next door .” “Really? I’d love to see it sometime .” Carson’s smile is dazzling as he leads me into the restaurant . “I can definitely make that happen,” he says .

Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Two 3 4. CARSON The exterior of Piccolo is bland enough that you might walk on by and not even notice it’s there. Except for the rich wooden doors and the deep red canopy leading to them, it’s basically just another of the featureless granite buildings that line the streets of Manhattan like Lego blocks . But then you step inside . The low-ceilinged foyer is quite understated, done in darkly veined marble, with a brass-and-wood reception desk that’s only a few feet wide. The maître d is a very serious-looking bald man named Avery – I’ve never been able to figure out whether it’s his first or last name – who always calls you by name, even if it’s your first time here. I have no idea how he pulls it off, but he does. Maybe a careful study of the Forbes list . He looks up at us over his glasses as we enter .

“Mr. Drake,” he says. “Ms. Vincent. It’s a great pleasure to have you join us this evening .” I admit it: I love to be served by people who are cultured and discreet. It’s one of the best perks of being rich . All right, all right, if I’m being totally honest, it makes me feel like I’m James Bond. But I also tip extremely well . I shake my head at some other nouveau riche guys, who drop thousands of dollars in high-end strip clubs with an entourage of losers. They surround themselves with noise and booze and people who are only along for the ride . Give me a quiet, elegant room any day, with gourmet food and a beautiful, intelligent woman who gives as good as she gets . Especially when that woman is the one by my side right now . And Maksim, of course. But he’s different . I see Cassie’s jaw drop a full inch as Avery leads us out of the foyer and into the dining room. Her head tilts up to follow the walls that go all the way up to the second-floor ceiling. Piccolo is so expensive, it

can actually take up two whole floors of the building for a single-floor seating area . As big as it is, the place still manages to feel cozy and intimate. It uses sound baffles built right into the architecture and artistic features of the dining area to turn each table and booth into its own perfectly private conversation area. Short of stripping completely naked and waggling your youknow-what you know where, you could do pretty much anything without getting noticed . Avery leads us to a curved booth in an intimate corner next to a huge granite fireplace, dormant now that the temperatures are soaring into the 90s. As we slide in, he bows deeply from the waist, his narrow frame looking a bit like a coat rack that’s hinged in the middle . “A bottle of the ’65 Chateau Lafitte will be here momentarily,” he says. “I recommend the duck this evening. Bon appetit .” Cassie blinks several times, taking in the understated opulence. Piccolo is unlike any other restaurant I’ve ever seen, and as cool as I try to look on the outside, the real me deep inside is reveling in being able to give her this incredible experience. In truth, I would buy this woman the world, and worry it still wasn’t enough .

The wine arrives within moments and the steward opens it at the table. He hands me the cork and I take a sniff . “Perfect,” I say . He nods and pours us each a glass, then leaves as silently as he arrived . “Show off,” Cassie says with a smirk . “What, the cork ?” “You don’t need to do that anymore. Modern winemaking techniques are so foolproof that you never hear about wine turning to vinegar these days. Not even wine from 1965 .” I give her an indulgent smile . “Is that so ?” “Yes, Mr. Fancy Pants, that’s so .” “What about from 1865 ?” Her eyes widen as those delicate orange brows lift and crinkle her freckled forehead . “Are you kidding me?” she breathes .

“Take a sip .” She looks at the glass, awestruck, for a full ten seconds before finally lifting it off the table. I raise mine in return . “Do I want to know how much this cost?” she asks warily . I wince. As far as I’m aware, the only bottles of this particular vintage were found off the coast of France, buried in a sandbank approximately sixty meters beneath the waves. Perfectly chilled. In fact, the perfect environment for wine to survive in perfect condition all this time . “Probably not .” She sighs, but she’s smiling. That’s a good sign . “What should we drink to?” she asks . I lean close and lock my eyes with hers . “To new experiences,” I say . She smiles and our glasses touch, sending a tinkling chime through our little booth sanctuary . We both take a sip. Cassie’s eyes close and she tilts her head back .

“Oh. Em. Gee,” she moans. “That’s ah-may -zing .” That’s just the start of the ah-may -zing things tonight has in store for us. At least, if I get my way . She takes another sip, savors it. We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, looking into each other’s eyes. A pianist somewhere plays a Cole Porter tune that floats through the room like subtle incense . Cassie eventually breaks the spell. I could have stayed there the rest of my life . “Where are the menus?” she asks, glancing around the table . “Piccolo doesn’t have menus,” I say. “It’s a fourcourse meal. The entrée is the only item you choose, and even with that, you only decide on the main ingredient .” She looks confused . “But how does the chef know what dishes we want ?” “Is the wine good ?” “The best I’ve ever tasted. But what does that have

to do with anything ?” “We didn’t choose that, either,” I point out. “And yet it’s exactly what we wanted. Trust me, the chef here is a culinary Michelangelo. Everything he produces is a masterpiece .” She runs a delicate hand along her throat and looks deep into my eyes . “Remember when we used to talk about backpacking around Italy when we were kids?” she says. “Going to see David in Florence. Following in Da Vinci’s footsteps. Seeing the ruins up close .” “Like it was yesterday .” “I suppose you’ve been there a hundred times,” she sighs. “You were telling your friend the other day that you were there not that long ago .” Her cleavage peeks out from the neck of her gown as she leans forward on the table, prompting a sudden mist of perspiration on the back of my neck . “A few weeks,” I croak . “What did you do while you were there? Tell me everything .”

I shrug . “Nothing that involved any culture. Just hung out with… friends. Had a few laughs .” Very few laughs compared to the time I’ve spent with her. I’ve barely given two minutes thought to my jump over Lake Garda since Cassie walked back into my life . And friends ? That’s stretching it a bit. More like friend – singular – and his acquaintances . I flash back to the night with the two English girls in my bed, and suddenly I’m ashamed of how shallow it was. How shallow I was . I guess it took Cassie returning to my life for me to truly realize it. All this time I became nothing more than a parody of the man I thought she wanted. When nothing could have been further from the truth . Cassie takes another sip of wine with the same reverence . “I think about all the travel I’ve done with… work, and I realize none of it was enjoyable,” she says. “I’ve been to some exotic places, but never really had a chance to be a tourist. To explore the culture

and just have some fun .” My heart cramps a little when I hear that. Compared to her experiences, mine are just the ridiculous escapades of a poor little rich boy. When she was fighting – hurting for her country, what the hell was I doing? No doubt swilling champagne in some ghastly bar with Maksim . “I’d love to hear more about it some time,” I say. “But not tonight. Is that okay ?” “It’s more than okay,” she says, looking relieved. “Tonight is about the experience. Agreed ?” “Agreed.” We toast again and drink deeply. Our glasses are empty only a handful of seconds before the wine steward appears and refills them . “Little bugger comes out of nowhere, doesn’t he?” Cassie mutters. “Like some kind of booze ninja .” I laugh hard. She looks at me for a moment, surprised, and then joins in . When we finally settle down, our waiter appears beside the table. He’s middle-aged, distinguishedlooking like Avery, with a mustache that most

hipsters would give a year of their life for . “May I be of service?” he intones . “Avery suggested the duck,” I say. “And you ?” He tilts his head slightly to the left . “It would be improper of me to contradict him, sir .” “Right. Lobster it is, then .” His mustache rises in a prim little smile . “Excellent choice, sir .” We watch him stride off and disappear around a dark-paneled corner . “You picked up on his subtext very well,” Cassie says. “I’m impressed .” High praise coming from her. I’m sure she’s been in situations where reading subtext literally made the difference between life and death . “If you’re impressed now, be prepared,” I say. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet .”

Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Three 3 5. CASSANDRA I really shouldn’t be doing this . I’m setting myself up for disaster . Nothing good can possibly come from this . Shut up, brain, I’m trying to concentrate on my steps . Carson sweeps me along the dance floor to the strains of Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade” coming from the piano in Piccolo’s bar. He convinced me – against my better judgment – to work off the most exquisite meal I’ve ever eaten in my life with a slow box step waltz. The CIA trained me for an entire year to resist torture, and yet … I’m practically hanging from him as he swirls around the floor, carrying me along with him like a child learning to dance by standing on her father’s feet .

“I’m sorry I’m so clumsy,” I say weakly. “But you know from experience that I’ve got two left feet .” “Must be hell buying shoes,” he says, his cheek next to mine . “Stop trying to make me laugh,” I say. “Besides, not all of us have unlimited time and money to take dance lessons .” “I was born this way, baby .” I giggle. “You forget that you’re talking to the girl who once slow danced with you to Hoobastank’s “The Reason” . I still have the bruises on my feet to prove it .” And God, that dates me ! “I seem to recall I was distracted by something during that dance,” he murmurs . A thrill runs through my belly as the full memory comes back: his lips were clamped firmly on my neck as we wandered around the gym, trying to avoid the gaze of the chaperones at the dance . Nothing good can come from this. The Chase is still on. Whatever happens tonight, I’ll be sleeping with another man within a few days .

Suddenly tears threaten to fill my eyes. I breathe deeply and force them down. Compartmentalize. Focus on the now. You’re trained for this . As if any sort of CIA training could prepare me for the situation I’m in right now. It’s so bizarre, I feel like I’m in an episode of the Twilight Zone . “Did you know there are lyrics to this song?” Carson asks out of nowhere . “Really,” I say, grateful for the distraction. For any distraction. “I’ve only ever heard the melody .” “Most people know the song instantly, but very few have ever heard the story in the song. It’s about a man standing in the moonlight, singing to his girl’s window .” He tilts his head close so that his lips are at my ear . “The stars are aglow, and tonight how their light sets me dreaming,” he croons softly, tickling my lobe. His baritone is slightly flat, almost Sinatraesque, and utterly charming . “My love, do you know, that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming ? “I bring you, and I sing you, a moonlight serenade

.” My God, I just want to melt into him and never let go. This night is so impossibly perfect it makes my heart ache . Because no matter what happens, it can’t possibly end the way I want it to . “Carson,” I whisper. It’s almost a sob . “Shhhh,” he breathes in my ear. “Just listen to the song, Picture the man singing to you from the garden .” I close my eyes and imagine Carson, dressed in an old-style suit, in a black-and-white movie set of a yard, singing to me under a giant cardboard moon hanging in the sky . My hand cups the back of his neck and I pull him closer to me, as strong and as desperate as a boxer’s clinch . “I stand at your gate, and I sing you a song in the moonlight,” he purrs . “A love song, my darling, a moonlight serenade .” The song is over for several seconds before I finally

realize it. We stop swaying and I let go of his neck. I feel like I’ve just woken up from a dream that I wanted to go on forever . Carson leans in close and whispers: “That was so much better than Hoobastank .” And here I go again, giggling like a fool. He somehow takes me from the edge of a melancholy that threatened to drag me under, and manages with just a few words to turn my face to the sun . I clasp his chiseled bicep as we amble back to our table. There are two dessert plates when we arrive, each with a single biscotti, next to a pair of small glasses filled with a bright yellow liquid . “Dessert,” I moan. “I can’t .” We sit down and Carson slides my plate closer to me . “Trust Piccolo,” he says. “They don’t do things randomly. They probably saw us dancing and knew we were both full. So they gave us these to cap everything off .” I sigh. “All right, if I must .” The biscotti crumbles easily between my teeth. The

cookie starts to melt immediately, evaporating into a buttery paste that spreads flavor across my tongue. Inside the cookie are slices of macadamia nuts that crumble and disintegrate as I chew . “Uhmfff,” I grunt through the food. “This is heaven. Exactly what I needed after that meal .” “Ain’t it?” says Carson, licking the crumbs off his fingers . I hold the aperitif up to eye level, catch the scent of the yellow liquor . “Limoncello,” I say with a theatrical pout. “I’m not really a fan .” Carson looks at me sternly . “What have I been saying all night ?” “Trust Piccolo.” I roll me eyes. “All right .” We clink glasses and drain our drinks. Piccolo’s magic stays true: the infusion of lemon oil adds a delightful tartness that cuts the cloying sweetness of the liqueur . Hell, this place is doing something right. It has me thinking like a restaurant critic .

“It’s like a final palate cleanser,” Carson says with a satisfied smack. “These guys earn every penny they make .” That piques my curiosity . “How much would that be, exactly ?” “I don’t know. My accountants will get the bill .” Someday accountants are going to get my bills . I have to keep telling myself that. It will help with the inevitable crash that’s going to come later tonight . If I can just keep Carson from bolting for a few more days, maybe… just maybe this can lead somewhere. I just need to endure a single night . One night out of my life, and then I’ll have the freedom I’ve craved for so long . But at what price ? I told you before, brain: SHUT. UP .

Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Four 3 6. CARSON Cassie and I step out into the night air and the quiet bustle of this exclusive block. Limos and Range Rovers and Bentleys drone past on the street, carrying wealthy people to whatever their wealthy people activities may be on this beautiful night . Some of them may well be involved in the Chase. If circumstances were different, I’d be ashamed to count myself among them. But tonight, I couldn’t be happier . In fact, you might say I’m over the moon . “Care for a nightcap?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “We can check out the bar in the hotel next door that you were interested in .” “Sure,” Cassie says absently, as if she’s wrapped up inside herself. “I really don’t want tonight to end .” If all goes well, it won’t have to. It can go straight through until tomorrow. And long after that, if

there’s a God out there somewhere . She takes my arm and we stroll down the avenue toward the exterior entrance to the Regent’s bar. Much like Piccolo, there’s nothing on the outside that would indicate the opulence within . The doorman tips his cap to us as we approach and opens the door . “A great pleasure to have you with us this evening,” he says . I slip a wedge of hundreds into his breast pocket as we pass. The poor guy deserves something extra for standing outside on a night like this in a full-length wool overcoat, just to maintain some ridiculous tradition. God only knows what it’s like in the heat of summer . We walk through the door and enter the throwback charm of the Regent. As impressed as Cassie was with the restaurant, I think she’s utterly floored by the bar . “This looks like something out of an old movie,” she marvels as we make our way to a table for two. “I’m so glad you made me wear this gown tonight. Anything less and I would have felt like I was underdressed .”

“You could be wearing a pair of sweatpants and a Snuggie and you’d still be the most dazzling woman in this room,” I say as I pull her chair out and push it back into place under her gorgeous butt . She props her head in her hand as I sit down across from her. I motion for our waitress, only to realize with considerable alarm that it’s the same girl who served me when I was here with the woman in the red dress . Please don’t acknowledge me. Please . Of course, I should have known better. Servers like those at the Regent and Piccolo know the value of discretion. She takes our order with a smile and leaves us to ourselves . “This feels like the first time I went to Las Vegas,” Cassie says, scanning the room. “Sensory overload. Only this is like coolness overload. I feel like we’re in a different world .” “This could be your world, you know .” She shakes her head . “Like you said, wealth is relative. When Tricialicious goes public, I’m hoping for maybe a $15 million payout. Sure, that’s almost five times

my investment, and to most people it’s a fortune . “But to someone like you,” Cassie says, “it’s chump change .” I wince inwardly. She’s right; I paid more than that just for the opportunity to chase a woman and sleep with her . It seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. Now it feels obscene. Disgusting. Something to be ashamed of . I clear my throat . “It really is relative,” I say. “You shouldn’t compare yourself to anyone else when it comes to money. It’s not a competition. It’s all about being able to do what you want .” “Easy for you to say,” she grins. “That’s like Usain Bolt saying there’s nothing wrong with being a mathlete .” I chuckle. “You know what I mean .” “I do,” she says. “And it reminds me: before we got all caught up in tonight, we were supposed to talk about business .”

She’s right, I totally forgot. That was the whole pretext of getting her to agree to this thing in the first place . Guess I got swept up in the magic of the night. I just hope I can keep it going . “Right,” I say, serious as Tom Brokaw. “Business. Let’s get down to brass tacks. See where the rubber hits the road. Do the deep dive. Find the core competencies. Did I miss any ?” “Well, once we unpack, we can amplify our deliverables and see if we can move the needle. You know, drill down and find our wheelhouse .” I nod thoughtfully . She nods thoughtfully . We both hold the pose for a good two seconds before simultaneously cracking up. Our server chooses that moment to arrive with our drinks . “I should have known I was challenging the master,” I say, taking a sip. “You must be up on all the latest business buzzwords .” Her eyes are far away. “Yeah, I suppose I must be, mustn’t I ?”

“You know what, Cassie? Here’s the only advice I can give you: don’t sell yourself short. If you think fifteen million is the right number for you, that’s great. But don’t limit yourself .” Those soulful eyes lock onto mine again, and I can see the deep uncertainty there. She makes me think of an acrobat who’s flipping and flying from one trapeze to the next, high above the crowd, with no net below her . One slip, one momentary lapse in concentration, and she’ll plummet . I never realized just what this whole thing must have done to her. The stress has to feel like being pulled apart on some medieval torture machine . “Cassie, you’re the smartest person I know .” She looks down at the table . “I don’t feel very smart right now,” she says softly . “That’s nerves talking. I went through the same thing when I sold Black Sword. I really only had a prototype. No market share, no goodwill list. Hell, I barely had any clients even test it out beforehand. There wasn’t time .

“What I did have was an unshakeable faith that what I’d built was valuable. Very valuable. And when the negotiations began, I went in with high expectations. I wouldn’t settle for anything less than what I wanted .” “It obviously worked,” she says. “But you’re talking about international cyber-security software. I’m talking about ice cream .” “There’s more to it than that, and you know it. Patty’s doesn’t sell treats; you sell happiness, however fleeting, and people will pay a premium for that. Why do you think Americans have spent billions on decaf non-fat lattes every year for the past two decades ?” She looks puzzled . “Because at least we know that part of our day is guaranteed to be good ?” “Exactly. Tricialicious is going to be a bigger success than you can imagine. So when you set your sights on the payout, set them high .” “How high?” she asks. Her eyes are wide, childlike . “As high as you want them to be. You’re smart,

you’ve got capital, you’ve got a great partner in Tricia. Everything is on your side in this .” I reach out and take her hand in mine. In some ways, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Part of me wishes I could just give her the key right here and now. I can’t. I’ve got to let Cassie find her way back to me. And it hurts more than anything I’ve ever done . “Especially me .”

Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Five 3 7. CASSANDRA The faith I see in Carson’s eyes makes me want to cry . He’s telling me all the wonderful things he sees in me, but he’s wrong. I’m a fraud. I’m not a businesswoman, I’m a spy . And I’m not even that anymore. Now, I’m just the quarry in a stupid chase . “I wish I could believe you,” I say, squeezing his hand. “But I feel like I’m drowning. I’ve bitten off so much more than I can chew, and I worry that it’s going to choke me .” He squeezes back. If only he knew what I’ve done. Would he be disgusted with me? Outraged? Or worse yet – disappointed? I don’t know if I’d be able to live through hearing that . “You’re not just smart,” he says. “You’re capable. A mover and a shaker. A fucking job creator. You

make things happen .” “You barely know me,” I say. “The real me. The woman I’ve become .” My raw emotions are closer to the surface than they’ve ever been. All my training is telling me not to do this, to cut this off and run from here as fast as my feet can take me . Fuck my training . “I’m not that girl you remember, Carson. Things happened to me after my family moved away. I’m not the same person I was before prom night .” He leans closer so that our eyes are only inches apart . “I know more than you think,” he whispers. “I know you can think on your feet. I know you can handle yourself in ways most people couldn’t even imagine. I know you’ve got steel inside you .” He always knows the right thing to say. But how? We’ve barely spent any time together since we met again a few weeks ago. He doesn’t know my past; as far as he knows, I’m a consultant in supply chain management. Jesus, why is he interested in me? Could the Company have picked a more boring

profession ? “You mentioned prom night,” he says. “I know now that something extraordinary must have happened to your family that day. And I’m so sorry I ever believed you’d disappear without contacting me if it wasn’t absolutely necessary .” I can’t think of anything to say, so I stay quiet. I just want to feel the warmth of his hands in mine . “In a way, I think that day shaped who we are now. If you hadn’t left, I’d probably still be screwing around in a lab somewhere, trying to figure out why the world didn’t recognize my genius .” I chuckle. “Somehow, I doubt that .” “Don’t,” he says. “I was smart, sure, but I wasn’t motivated to do anything other than not be my old man .” I can understand that. For years, everything I did was to make my father happy . “But look at you now,” I say . “Yeah,” he says. “And look at you . Actually, don’t bother. I can look at you enough for the both of us .”

I need to stop this. If I don’t run right now, bad things are going to happen. Things I can’t take back . “Carson,” I say, but he stops with me with a raised finger . “Hear that ?” The piano player has been playing Gershwin the entire time we’ve been here – there’s that situational awareness again, can’t turn it off – but now there’s just a single low note being played over and over . That’s not the piano in the bar . Now the beat of a drum and a guitar lick join in . I’m not a perfect perrr-sonnn …. Is that …? Carson pulls me up with him and leads me toward the dance floor . “You…” I husk. “How did you …?” He grins. “I texted the manager while you were powdering your nose at Piccolo. Or whatever it is that girls do.” He winks at me. “See – I’m still a

nerd, really .” We reach the floor and suddenly I’m clutching him so tight I fear I might break him. I float in his arms like a dandelion seed in the breeze, oblivious to everything around me. Twin tears escape the corners of my eyes and trickle down my cheeks . We sway back and forth as “The Reason” tells its hypnotic story of hurt and redemption, of heartache and forgiveness. The touch of Carson’s hand on my bare back sends an explosion of sensations up my spine and down my belly, into the junction of my thighs . Carson’s lips find my throat, but this time I don’t think of chaperones seeing us. All I can focus on is the warmth of his breath, the electric touch of his tongue. The here. The now. The forever . This moment is so right. I’ve been waiting for it since I was a girl, dreaming about it. It couldn’t be more perfect. In the arms of the man of my dreams, the only man in the world who truly knows me . Except everything he knows about me is a lie. And I can’t follow through with this. Not just for my sake, but for his. I’m holding a ticking time bomb, and Carson can’t be anywhere near when it goes off .

I place my hands on his shoulders and push, separating us . “Stop,” I pant. “I can’t …” He smiles. “Let me guess: you’re going to pull a Cinderella on me again .” “I have to. I can’t do this, I’m sorry. Not right now .” “Yes,” he says, pulling me back in. His eyes lock with mine. “Right now .” “You don’t understand,” I plead . “But I do,” he says. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand .” I shake my head and steel myself to move. I position my right arm under his left; all it will take is for me to cock my elbow and trap him in an arm lock. After that, just a quick shifting of my weight and he’ll go flying over my hip and land on his back on the floor, I don’t care how strong he is. I’ll step out of my heels and bolt barefoot for the exit . I move in to apply pressure when his right hand suddenly reaches into his pants pocket and pulls something out. Something small and narrow .

Rational thought disappears as my training takes over. My pupils dilate, taking in more light to process the sensory input. My strategy changes instantly to deal with the possible weapon in his hand . I move my right arm so that it’s over his left instead of under. Then I bend my elbow and drive my hand upwards past his armpit, locking his arm in place. I jam my right knee into the back of his, bending the joint and forcing that leg to the floor . Now he’s down on one knee, looking up at me with shock on his face and something in his hand. I realize suddenly that anyone looking at us would think he was proposing . “Cassie,” he grunts. I let go of his arm and he takes a deep breath . “What the hell are you doing?” I hiss . How did this all go so wrong so fast? Things are spiraling out of control ! “I was trying to give you this,” he pants . He opens his right hand and the light over the dance floor reflects off the polished brass of a skeleton key .

Embossed in script on the key’s handle is the word Regent . No. It can’t be . It can’t be . Carter smiles up at me . “Consider yourself caught,” he whispers. “The Chase is over .”

Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Six 3 8. CARSON The look on Cassie’s face is worth every moment of heartache over the past twelve years and then some . Her hand closes over the key quick as a snake as she glances around the room. The she pulls me up from the floor and into her arms. She’s amazingly strong . I see her throat working, but no words are coming out . “Let’s go someplace more private,” I whisper . My hand finds her back and I lead her off the floor toward our table. I drop a few hundreds next to our unfinished drinks and we’re on our way to the Regent’s lobby . “What…” she stammers. “How did …?” “I figured it out this morning,” I say, barely able to

contain myself . Every part of me wants to run to the top of the Empire State Building and shout “I won the Chase! I won Cassandra Vincent !” On the outside, this manifests itself as a shit-eating grin. And a stiffness under my slacks . The lobby is empty except for us and the night auditor, a handsome woman in a dark pantsuit. Cassie and I stand in front of the elevator, arm in arm, watching the ornate silver arrow over the door count the floors as it lowers itself down to us. It seems to take the better part of an eon . The muted “ding” announces its arrival and the accordion doors slide open . “Hang on just one fucking minute,” she says, grabbing my arm as I try to step inside the elevator . Oh, shit . Her eyes are blazing. She pushes me into the elevator and the doors close behind us . “You’re telling me that you’re a competitor in the Chase ?”

Oh shit oh shit oh shit . “Yes?” I offer weakly . “And you figured out that I was the quarry ?” “Uh-huh. This morning .” “That’s why I kept running into you everywhere I went? You were following the information on the quarry ?” I feel like I’m being interrogated by the team on The Shield . The walls of the elevator feel like they’re closing in on me. How did this all go so wrong so quickly ? “Yeah,” I say. “I should have figured it out sooner, but I obviously had a blind spot where you were concerned. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees .” Her eyes narrow . “So how did you figure it out ?” “I was talking to Tricia. She told me you were… inexperienced. Everything else just fell into place after that .” She’s silent for several long moments. My stomach is buzzing with nerves. Everything was so

incredible on the dance floor. And now this . Finally, she looks up at me again . “Do you mean to tell me you have so much fucking money that you dropped millions of dollars to chase a woman just so you could sleep with her ?” “Well,” I say. “It’s a little more complicated than that. But yeah, I guess that’s the elevator pitch version .” I grin, throwing chance to the wind. “Get it? Elevator pitch ?” She looks down at the key in her hand, then back up at me . “Surprise,” I say weakly, waving my hands like a third-rate talent show host . Before I can react, her hand flashes out and grabs the back of my neck. I brace myself for a body slam or something equally unpleasant. And honestly, she has every right to be pissed. I screwed up. Bad . Instead, she pulls me into her, locking her mouth on mine and squeezing her body against me with a force that I can barely believe .

Her tongue snakes around mine as her hands slide up into my hair. My own glide down the plum fabric of her dress and grip her buttocks, driving our pelvises together . “I ought to kill you,” she gasps . “Later,” I groan, clamping my lips on her neck and stabbing the button for the third floor .

Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Seven 3 9. CASSANDRA My chest heaves as Carson fumbles the old key into the lock with one hand. The other grips my hair and locks me in place on top of his open mouth . Our weight is against the door when it finally swings open, sending us crashing into the suite. My ass rams into the corner of an antique bureau, knocking it back several inches on the dark mahogany floor . The room is lit with a single lamp on the nightstand next to a four-poster canopy bed. Carson effortlessly lifts me off the floor and tosses me on top of it. It’s so soft, I feel like I’m landing on a cloud . He tears off his tux jacket and hurls it in the general direction of the door. I reach up and help him with his bow tie, sliding it off in a single tug. He props himself on top of me on the bed with his left hand and undoes the top button of his shirt with the other

. I finish with the rest of the buttons, laying bare that sculpted torso. The shirt joins his jacket on the other side of the room. All of this is so new to me, and yet with Carson it feels like I’ve done it a thousand times . Suddenly I’m compelled to just squeeze his pectoral muscles. They’re so solid, so smooth. My hands explore the rest of him, running down the xylophone of his ribs to his abdominals. I count the lumps under my fingers: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight . Now that my hands are in the neighborhood, they might as well take care of these pesky suspenders. Two quick squeezes on the silver clips and they going flying backwards. Then my hand reaches for the clasp of his pants . Carson’s mouth disengages from mine with a wet smacking noise. He fixes me with his gaze . “What’s the matter?” I breathe . “Are you ready for this?” he asks, his chest heaving. “I only want to do this if it’s what you want .”

I grab him and press my body against his bare chest, feeling the unyielding softness there . “I’ve never wanted anything like I want this,” I whisper in his ear . That may very well be the truest thing I’ve ever said in my life . As if on cue, his pants hit the floor and puddle around his ankles. He kicks them off and stands there a moment, wearing nothing but his boxers and a pair of long black socks . I try to stop it, but the giggle escapes me . “Oh baby,” I purr. “You are so sexy .” He holds up a finger . “Hang onto that thought .” In two seconds the socks are flying across the room like a pair of blackbirds on the wing . That’s when I see the massive tent under his boxers, and I gasp . He reaches under me and lifts me from the bed, turning so that he’s sitting on the bed and I’m standing in front of him .

“I’ve waited for this my whole adult life,” he says, his eyes wide . “Then I better not keep you waiting a second longer,” I say, reaching behind me and sliding the zipper down the $14,000 plum dress until the slider hits the spot where my back meets the cleft of my ass . I shiver and the dress falls to the floor, exposing me to Carson’s greedy gaze. He looks me up and down, every curve, every freckle, every single flaw, laid bare in front of him . In spite of myself, I bite my lip. I’ve never wanted anyone’s approval so badly . His mouth drops open . “You’re perfect,” he growls . I reach forward and pull his face to my breasts. He kisses them gently, stroking the undersides with both hands. My whole body trembles at his touch as he runs his fingertips along the sides, then glides around to the hollow of my back . As he does, I close my eyes and drop my head back. The warmth of his mouth as it closes over my

pale pink nipple is delicious. They’ve both been bullet-hard since we entered the elevator, begging for this attention. And truly, I’ve been running on a low ebb of desire ever since Carson stumbled back into my life . He alternates between my breasts, kissing one gently while massaging the other. He starts out slowly, gently, then changes to scraping the edges of his front teeth up and down them. The sensation is so powerful, so delightful, that I almost lose my balance. After long moments of this, he wraps his tongue around the nub again and applies pressure, sending a flood into the slit under my panties . Without thinking, I reach down between his legs and reach through the fly of his boxers to the hardness within. It’s so hot to the touch, like a branding iron wrapped in silk . “Unhhh,” he groans against my breasts. My heart soars. I’m so glad I’m making him feel as good as he’s making me feel . Well, maybe not quite that good. But I can try . Carson stands and his shorts drop to the floor, leaving him totally nude in front of me for the first time in our lives. It’s like looking at Michelangelo’s David in the low light of the bedside lamp. Every

perfect curve, every angle, delineated by shadow . Except he’s considerably better endowed . I can’t imagine ever seeing another man naked – anyone else would pale in comparison. For a splitsecond my mind threatens to go to the other contestants in the Chase, but I clamp it down instantly . I’m not with one of them. I’m with Carson. And if this is a dream, I never want to wake up .

Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Eight 4 0. CASSANDRA “No fair,” Carson breathes, reaching behind me and clasping my buttocks in his hands. “You can see me, but I can’t see all of you .” He slides his thumbs under the lace waistband of my panties and pulls outwards and down. No one besides me has ever taken off my underwear before. The sheer eroticism of it makes me weak at the knees . They slide down to my ankles and I step out of them. Carson leaves them hanging on the end of his index finger, a wolfish grin spreading across his face . “Finally,” he growls. And by God, it is a growl. I can’t believe that the shy – yet handsome – teenage boy I used to debate has become this, this … Man. I let out a faint shriek of delight as he grabs me and

lifts me back onto the bed. He returns his attention to my breast, kissing each freckle one after the other . Meanwhile, his hand has found its way home. He uses it to stroke my pussy for a few moments until I can actually feel my lips parting in anticipation. God, that sounds so mechanical. But it’s so goddamn true. If mechanical is what a night with Carson is like, call me an engineer . “You’re sure?” he whispers again. I can’t tell whether he’s afraid of my answer, or afraid of pushing me too far. I suspect the latter . “Completely sure ?” I grab his hand and press his palm against my clit. My hips buck in response to his touch . “Does that answer your question?” I whisper back to him . He keeps his right hand on me as his left works my right breast and nipple. His mouth continues to attend to my left nipple. I lie there with my arm wrapped around his neck, making sure that mouth doesn’t stray from its job . I shiver as Carson’s fingers reach my clit, gliding

along the lips on either side. After a few moments, he dips the tip of his middle finger inside me . My right hand grips his shaft, thumb on the underside, up and down. It’s like I’ve read a goddamn manual. In truth, just doing its job. Still, I go slowly, slowly. I have no idea if this is what I’m supposed to be doing, but judging by his groans, Carson is okay with it . A handful of moments later, I feel the beginnings of a wave radiating out from between my legs. Part of it is sheer stimulation, part is the fact that it’s not from my own hand. It’s Carson who’s making me feel this way . The intensity builds as Carson rolls his fingers around the circumference of my clit. Each twist brings another vibration, another wave, until I can’t hold back any longer . I reach up and grab his neck, pulling myself to him and wedging my chin on top of his rock-like trapezius muscle. I drive my chin deeper and deeper into him with each tremor, as the pleasure waves finally crash against my shore . My heart rate gallops as I gulp in air. It’s never been like this on my own. I want it to go on forever, entwined with Carson like this, feeling like this .

In my spasms, I inadvertently grip his cock tighter and he gasps . “Are you okay?” I ask, suddenly terrified that I’ve hurt him . “So okay,” he groans, lying back on the bed. “You don’t even know .” I raise myself up and onto my knees, never letting his cock escape my hand. In the light of the bedside lamp, I see him bite his lip. I’ve never seen anything so sexy in my life . Now that his bare chest is open to me, I go to work on it greedily with my mouth. I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t care. I kiss every bulge, stopping to flick my tongue along his nipples. Each lap against his skin draws a corresponding throb from his cock in my hand . I reach his groin to find that he’s almost bare down there, aside from a few veins lining his muscles. Slowly, deliberately, I inhale his secret scent. I want to know everything about Carson . “Cassie,” he whispers, wrapping his fingers in my hair. “Oh, please .” I oblige, looking at his cock up close for the first

time. I’ve imagined what it would be like, mostly during my one-woman shows in the secrecy of my bedroom. It’s thicker than I would have thought, with narrow veins circling the muscles. A dab of moisture glistens on his tip in the lamplight . My tongue starts at the base, flattening against the underside and ever so slowly rising to the tip. Carson’s fingers close in my hair in response. My tongue moves to the sides, first one, then the other. Up and down, up and down . After several of these turns, I finally get on all fours and face his cock head-on. My lips close over the tip, and my mind flashes back to Carson’s finger in my mouth that day at the restaurant. God, I wanted him so bad in that coatroom . But this is sooo much better . He exhales as my mouth explores downwards, my tongue wrapping around the shaft like Cleopatra’s asp. I reach about halfway and can’t go any farther, so I head back up, adding suction as I reach the tip again . “Huhhh,” he groans as he reaches up to slide two of his fingers inside me . I continue up and down, gripping my fingers around

the base to add to his sensations. Again, I’m not getting any complaints, so I must be doing something right. I respond to his touch with slick wetness, lubricating his fingers as they explore my pleasure center . We do this for what seems like forever, until Carson finally moves away from my mouth and props himself on one arm. My pussy misses him immediately when he withdraws his fingers . “My turn,” he says with a grin . He lifts me and turns me in one deft movement, laying me on my back on the coverlet. I reach on either side of me to push it down, revealing the glorious satin sheets underneath . Carson drops over me, supporting himself on his elbows, as his mouth explores mine, then wanders over to my earlobe and the hollow that forms where it meets my neck. From there he moves down to my throat, then my breasts again . My belly quivers as I realize what’s happening. I’ve imagined this for years, wondering how it would feel . I’m going to find out, and with that knowledge my chest begins to rise and fall like the pistons of a

steam engine . Carson’s lips are on my belly, then the orange fuzz of my groin. He kisses me there lightly, like a butterfly landing . I breathe deeply as he reaches his destination. His lips close around the hood of my clit and his tongue greets my lips with a long, slow glide. The tremors begin and suddenly I understand why he had to wrap his fingers in my hair. I do the same with his . My hips begin to respond on their own. Raising to meet the pressure of his lips and tongue, pressing against him and the softness there. After about a century of this, Carson’s tongue changes suddenly, become hard and insistent . I gasp as my hips buck as the probing tip of his tongue presses against my clit. I can’t hold on anymore, I have to let go . Just when I think I might lose my mind, his tongue becomes as hard as any other of his muscles and presses against me with an intensity I couldn’t have imagined even ten seconds ago. The world melts into a riot of colors and feelings as my body heaves and shakes with pleasure .

Chapter One Hundred Ninety-Nine 4 1. CASSANDRA I never understood how this could feel. You can’t imagine something like this until you experience it. Even my pocket rocket pales in comparison . Carson kindly lets me recover my vision for a few moments as he rummages through his pants pockets. Finally he emerges with a foil square in his fingers . He comes back to the bed and I reach out and grab the condom . “I want to do it,” I say, trying to look like a dirty vamp . It must work, because his cock bobs up and down in appreciation . “Okay,” he says, eyes wide . I’ve never done this before, obviously, but as Carson pointed out, I’m a very capable person. A

quick study, you could say. I tear along the dotted line and remove the disk, leaving the package on the night table . Carson kneels in front of me as I drop to all fours on the bed. I grasp his cock by the base and pull him closer. He obliges by shuffling a couple of inches on his knees . The tip of his cock is gleaming as I unroll the condom over it. Once it’s past the edge of the head, the edge of no return, I grab hold with my thumb and forefinger and unspool it down to the base. It’s so thin – almost like you can’t even see it . That’s the limit of my bravery, though. My belly fills with butterflies as Carson positions himself above me and between my open thighs. He props himself with one hand and guides the tip of his shaft into my opening with the other . The sensation of fullness comes over me as he slides slowly into my canal. His eyes are on mine as he moves, watching for my response . “Don’t stop,” I beg. “I’ve never wanted anything so bad .” God, he’s reduced me to begging. I always swore I’d never do it if I was ever captured. But with

Carson? It’s irresistible . “Me either,” he sighs as he eases himself the rest of the way in. It hurts, oh God, it hurts. But it’s as though Carson knows exactly what I’m experiencing. He knows when to stop, when to drop his mouth to mine, when to absorb as much of my pain as he can . And when I’m done with pain. When what I want – what I need – is pleasure . I grip his neck in my arms as he begins to move, slowly, gently. I’m so wet that his girth isn’t a problem. We move in sync with each other, matching each stroke . “It’s so good,” I moan . With each movement it gets easier, until Carson is thrusting all the way in each time . He pushes himself up and leans his weight back until he’s on his knees, his butt on his calves. I let him do what he wants – I trust him to know what’s going to please me . He reaches down and curves his sculpted arms under my thighs and lifts them until they’re pointing straight at the ceiling, propped against

those cannonball shoulders. I feel him ease in even deeper than before . Now the tip of his cock starts to press against the inside of my pelvic wall and a sensation like a bruise of pleasure overtakes me. That’s the only way I can describe it. It doesn’t sound sexy, but it is. Believe me, it is . “Oh my God,” I gasp, eyes wide . He leans forward slightly and we lock gazes once again, staring at each other’s souls as each thrust lands home. Finally I can’t take anymore, and I throw my head back in abandon. My hands grip the fabric of the plush headboard on the wall behind me and I hang on for dear life . “I can’t hold on any more,” Carson grunts . My head spins as he picks up speed, pistoning in and out so fast it feels like my body is a machine over which I have no control. A pool of pleasure starts to build its way up from my core like oil into a well . I feel my abs contract with every stroke, out of my control, almost like I’m doing sit-ups, until I finally abandon all control and just let my body be assaulted by Carson’s powerful thrusts .

“Cassie,” he groans. “Oh baby, It’s so good. You’re so freaking good .” “Carson,” I pant. “I’ve waited so long. So long .” And it’s true. Not that it has been so long, though it has. But that I’ve waited. Because it’s only just now that I’m realizing I’ve been waiting for Carson this whole time. I didn’t realize what I was holding out for . As the spasms take over, I grip his triceps with everything I’ve got. We shudder together once, twice, three times. I lie there gulping in air, trying to stop my eyes from rolling . Suddenly, Carson wraps his arms around my thighs and grips them together as he drives home one final thrust. I feel like the universe is exploding inside me and around me. We’re as close as two humans can be in a moment, any moment . We both let loose with guttural growls from deep inside us. Carson’s head drops backwards like an animal howling to the moon, but he stays silent . God, I hope the rooms in the Regent are soundproofed . When it’s over, he drops low and covers my body

with his. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his torso, feeling his girth inside me. Our breath mingles into a chorus of gasps as we try to catch our breath . I burrow my face into Carson’s neck and nibble on the flesh there. I don’t know why; it’s just instinct taking over . We lie like that for what seems like an eternity as our runaway heart rates slow to normal. Carson caresses me gently, rhythmically, all over. The tingle it elicits makes me feel warm all over. Safe . Suddenly, from nowhere, the tears start to flow freely, staining my cheeks. I’ve never felt so naked in front of another human being . “I’m so happy it was you,” I sob into his ear . He takes my face in his hands and kisses me gently everywhere: my eyes, my cheeks, my lips, my chin, my forehead. When he pulls back, I can see the shimmer of tears in his eyes, too . “I’ve never believed in God,” he whispers. “But I think I may have just found a compelling argument .” I stroke his cheek, unable to stop touching him,

even for a moment . Finally, he rolls onto his back and we both shift our bodies around so that we’re lying on the pillows. I put my head in the crook of Carson’s shoulder and lay my arm across the vast expanse of his naked chest. Our sweat mingles and dries in the recycled air of the room .

Chapter Two Hundred 4 2. INTERLUDE A woman with long, satiny blonde curls glances down at the tiny flashing red light in the top right corner of her smart phone’s screen . “Don’t move,” she snarls at the man hanging from the metal rack. He’s covered from head to toe in black leather, except for a small zippered opening where his mouth is. The room is painted entirely in black . “Yes, mistress,” he moans . “Did I give you permission to talk?” the woman snaps as she sets down a leather cat-o-nine-tails and swipes a scarlet-tipped finger across the screen . “C-c-call me sen-sen-senator maggot,” he breathes. “Please .” “No,” she says coldly . The information on the screen bothers her. She steps away from the dungeon into an alcove and

types in a phone number from memory . “Yes?” says a voice on the other end . “One of the keys has been used .” Silence for a long moment . “As we feared ?” “Room 317, yes. The transponder in the ring confirms it .” “This is… unfortunate .” “I’ll begin the process of rectifying the situation .” “Keep me informed .” “Of course .” She thumbs the phone’s end-call button and types in another number. This time the call is greeted only with a click . “You were right,” she says. “You know what to do .” Silence. Then a click to indicate the call has been disconnected .

She ends the call and picks up the leather whip . “Wh-who were you talking to?” the man in the leather outfit asks. “Please tell me .” “Your mother,” she spits, whipping the backs of his legs with the steel tips of the cat-o-nine-tails. He howls in response . “She said you should go fuck yourself .”

Chapter Two Hundred One 4 3. CARSON “When I realized you were the quarry, I thought I was dreaming,” I say . Cassie sighs and strokes a finger down my chest . “I know the feeling,” she says. “When I realized that was a key in your hand and not a weapon, I literally thought the world had turned upside down .” “It kind of did turn upside down,” I chuckle. “For me, anyway .” She grimaces . “I’m so sorry about that .” “Sorry? You were like Scarlett Johansson in The Avengers ! Except you’re a real redhead .” The awkwardness in her smile makes my heart melt. I pull her closer and nuzzle her hair. It’s a

forest fire I could lose myself in for good . “Think about this for a second,” I whisper. “Two geeky kids, so lame that the only people who would hang out with them were each other. Building scale models of nuclear reactors and talking about Renaissance artists .” “I think I remember them .” “Now go back in time and tell them that, in a dozen years, one’s going to be a billionaire playboy and the other will be a secret agent .” Cassie is quiet for a moment . “That’s crazy,” she says . “Right?!” I hoot . She rolls to her side so she can face me . “I’d rather tell them not to lose hope, because they’re going to be together again someday .” My heart stops. This girl is so damn perfect . “Always have to one-up me, don’t you?” I say . She smiles. I pull her close and lay a long, slow kiss on her mouth. Our tongues explore each other, less

urgent now, more familiar . After our lips part, we look into each other’s faces for awhile, like we’re taking inventory. Okay, those lips are mine, those eyes, check, that freckle, that other freckle. Yup, all mine . C assie turns her head to look up at the ceiling . “Holy shit, this is a beautiful room !” I don’t remember ever going from post-orgasmic afterglow to full-on horse laughing in such a short period of time, but that’s Cassie for you . When we finally manage to rein in our hysterics, she looks at me and shakes her head . “That killed the mood a bit,” she says sheepishly. “But I mean, wow! This is incredible. This whole night has been incredible .” She looks at me. “You’re incredible .” I take her face in my hands and kiss her slowly and deeply again. Now that the initial frenzy is over, we can just be for a little while . Until Round Two, of course . Cassie is right about the room. It’s done in a

tasteful ivory palette, with hand-carved paneling across the walls and deep tray ceilings with moldings that probably cost in the neighborhood of a thousand dollars a foot . The high ceilings and vertical mirrors give the illusion of a grand space, and the pastel toile curtains are held aside with antique silver tiebacks. The furniture is of the same Prohibition-era vintage as the bar, with curved drawers, damask fabric, claw feet and sublime cherry wood inlay . “The Regent is probably the most exclusive hotel on the Eastern Seaboard,” I say. “You’ll never find it on Expedia. I had to hear about it from wealthy acquaintances. There are no prices listed anywhere, just like Piccolo. I think they might actually have the same owner . “It’s the ultimate no-tell hotel. I’m sure the Chase’s organizers want to maintain the illusion that it’s a discreet, classy affair .” “The Chase,” she murmurs . “Yeah,” I say . “We’ve got a lot to talk about .” “You first .”

She props herself on one elbow, giving me an excellent view of her bare breasts. I give each of them an appreciative kiss . “I’ll give you just thirty minutes to stop that,” she says . “I’m good. Let’s talk .” Her eyes narrow . “Not for too long,” she says . I point to the tent between my legs under the sheet . “Definitely not for too long,” I say . She grins . “Well,” she sighs. “You’re right. I’m a secret agent. Was a secret agent .” “I’m guessing that’s not the job description they stuck in the HR file .” “There is no technical job description for what I did. I’m not an analyst or special agent; I was strictly off the books .” So much makes sense now about Cassie’s behavior lately. Then again, this opens up a whole new line

of questions for her. I decide to just let her talk. She needs to talk . We’ve got all the time in the world now . “You’ve probably guessed by now that this had something to do with prom night,” she says . “Sort of,” I say. “Your dad – was he in the agency when we were kids ?” She looks me square in the eye . “You need to understand this is privileged information .” Wow . Like I said, a whole different Cassie . “Of course,” I say . “Dad was seconded into the agency after 9/11. He’d been in Army Intelligence until then, but his specialized knowledge of Afghanistan put him in high demand after the attacks . “The day we disappeared – do you remember what had been in the news that week ?” A psychologist once told me the human brain is like a computer; mine just has a lot more RAM than most, so I can access things inside it quickly and

easily. So I tend to remember things really well . “There was a Senate hearing into some black ops dealings to do with the war,” I say . She nods . “My dad was identified by one of the witnesses as being involved. Within a day, there was chatter on NSA intercepts about threats against his life .” “Holy shit …” “Yeah,” she breathes. “He came bursting through the door in the middle of the afternoon and the next thing I knew, we were on an Army transport to Honduras .” “And I was standing on your porch, wondering where the hell you were .” She takes my head in her hands and pulls me close, touching her nose to mine . “I am so sorry,” she husks. “For years I wanted to get in touch with you, but – ” “Shhh.” I kiss her eyelids. “You’re here now. That’s what matters .” A moment later her hand is under the sheet and

around my appreciative cock . “We’re both here now,” she whispers. “So what should we do about it ?” “I’ve got a few ideas .”

Chapter Two Hundred Two 4 4. CASSANDRA I think it’s morning, but I’m not sure. Being sure would require me to open the curtains to peek outside. Or get up and look at my phone on the dresser . Both of those things require me getting out of this cloud of a bed, and that just ain’t happening . Carson stirs beside me and lets out a deep sigh. His chest has been gently rising and falling in a slow rhythm since I’ve been awake, which hasn’t been long . Or maybe it has. Time lost all meaning when we stepped into the elevator last night . He turns toward me and opens his eyes . “Thank God,” he says, a hint of red embarrassment in his cheeks. “I was scared to fall asleep. I honestly thought I’d wake up and realize last night never happened .”

“Oh, it happened,” I say. “Three times . I’m surprised you didn’t collapse into a coma after that last one .” “It was an important night. I wanted to make sure it was worth waiting for .” I climb on top of him and weave my fingers into his . “Imagine you’re waiting to taste lobster for the first time, because everyone you know always talks about how great lobster is,” I say. “And then, the first time you try it, it’s the meal we had at Piccolo last night .” His eyes widen . “Wow,” he says . “And then multiply that by a billion .” He chuckles . “There’s only one problem,” I say . “Problem? What problem ?” “You set the bar ridiculously high. If you don’t live up to last night every single time from now on, well ...”

He slides his hands under my rear and gives me a friendly squeeze . “Do you know who you’re talking to?” he asks with mock gravity. “Carson Drake eats challenges for breakfast .” “Yeah, yeah,” I say. “And then Matthias whips him for it in the gym later on. That song’s been on repeat for a while now, babe .” He barks a laugh. I giggle, too . I didn’t mean to lead the conversation in this direction, but I’ve been taught to take advantage of every opportunity. We’re on the subject, and we’re both in a talkative mood . “Speaking of challenges,” I say. “How on Earth did you end up in the Chase ?” “I knew I couldn’t avoid this for much longer,” he sighs. “I have to be honest with you, Cassie: I was bored .” “That much I figured out on my own. You never could sit still – you always had to have something to occupy your mind or you’d go crazy. I’m curious how you heard about it .”

He shrugs. “It was in the Billionaires Club newsletter .” I cock my middle finger with my thumb and flick his earlobe. Hard . “Ow!” “There’s more to come if you don’t smarten up,” I say. “I’ve interrogated men in ratholes in the Middle East who would eat you the way you eat challenges .” He goggles at me . “Is that true ?” “It doesn’t matter,” I say with a grin. “The fact that you have to ask means I’ve done my job .” “Understood, ma’am .” “Now: how did you really hear about the Chase ?” Carson props himself up on his pillows. I do the same – it’s more suited to serious conversation . “I have a friend named Maksim,” he says. “His family is connected to the Russian mob, though I’m pretty sure I’d have a hard time proving that. He put me in touch with someone who brokered the

deal .” Brokered the deal . Hmmm . “Let me guess,” I say. “About five-eight, long blonde curls, crimson lipstick ?” “Seriously? You know her ?” “She brokered my deal, too .” “Huh,” he says. “Makes sense. They probably don’t want to do the dirty work themselves, so they contract it out . “Your turn: how did you find out about the Chase ?” It seems like a thousand years ago now, even though it’s only been a few months . “I was doing research for work. I came across a cryptic site on the dark web offering a commission for anyone who could connect the poster with someone who had – let me make sure I remember this exactly – ‘a very unique set of circumstances .’” Carson’s eyebrows go up . “That’s a pretty good way to describe it,” he says .

“It piqued my interest,” I say. “The first thing that came to mind, obviously, was sex slavery. But the more I discovered about it, the more I realized it wasn’t a criminal operation. At least not in the strict sense of the word . “They were looking for a woman who had counterespionage or intelligence-gathering skills. Someone who could lead a bunch of rich, old men on a merry – old – chase . “And, of course, they had to be a virgin, and willing to… submit to the winner .” I blush, even now, after everything. Carson smiles and kisses my hot cheek . “In return, the quarry would get $250,000 a day,” I continue. “That kind of money represented a freedom I didn’t even know I wanted. As soon as I saw it, all I could think about was leaving the underground lifestyle behind and becoming financially independent . “I think I finally realized that I only signed up because my father pushed me into it. He said it was my duty to the country to use my smarts to save American lives .

“But when you wake up one day to discover you’re thirty years old and you’ve never even been to bed with a man, you start to get a new perspective .” Whoa. That was a revelation. I suppose I’ve had those thoughts before, but I’ve never articulated them like that, to myself or anyone else . “Your dad is definitely a demanding guy,” Carson says. “How did he take the news that you wanted out ?” I wince. “How do you think? He said I was wasting my potential. Disappointing my country. Disappointing him .” Even now it hits me in the gut like a haymaker . “You know what? I think what you’re doing now is discovering your potential. We’re both living proof that you don’t know what you’re capable of until you go for it .” He always knows exactly what to say. I could get used to that. To this. For the rest of my life . “If I had a glass of champagne, I’d toast you,” I say . Suddenly his expression darkens .

“Wait a minute,” he says. “You only got $250,000 a day for this ?” “Only? That’s a lot of money .” “My buy-in alone was $20 million .” Holy shit. Wealth may be relative, but that’s a serious wage gap . “Those bastards,” he says. “I thought it would be at least a million a day. That’s an obscene profit margin .” I shrug. “Most obscenely rich people don’t get where they are by undercharging, Carson .” His face lightens and he doubles over, covering his heart with his hand . “That hurts,” he groans . “The truth often does,” I say. “Better get used to it. Because I don’t swing and miss .” He smiles absently. I’ve seen this look before: there’s an idea percolating in his head. I’ve missed that look. God, how I’ve missed it . “You’re right,” he says .

“I always am. Which instance are you referring to ?” “I’m obscenely rich .” “Well, the first step is admitting it, I guess .” “We should be doing the kind of things obscenely rich people do together. Last night was a good start, but there’s all sorts of stuff we could be doing. The only limit is our imagination .” The thought sends a little thrill through me. If last night was only a sample of what life could be like, I think I could get addicted to it . “Just one thing,” I say. “You’re obscenely rich. I’m not .” “Who cares, as long as one of us is?” he says. “Your time is coming, babe. And when that ship comes in, you better believe you’re going to be picking up the check. I’m a firm believer in feminism .” I punch his shoulder . “We need to make some plans,” he says. “What do obscenely rich people do ?”

I put my lips to his ear and take his left hand in mine, placing it between my thighs. His touch makes me instantly wet . “Do obscenely rich people fuck?” I whisper . “Oh, yeah,” he whispers back. “ Obscenely .” Turns out he’s right .

Chapter Two Hundred Three 4 5. CARSON Trying to lead two blindfolded women by the hand isn’t nearly as fun as you might think it would be . It doesn’t help that they’ve already finished a bottle of wine between them at lunch . “Watch your big feet, bitch!” Tricia hollers as she stumbles into Cassie . “Maybe if you stepped on yours instead of mine, you’d be okay!” Cassie counters . They both burst into a slumber party giggle fit, which makes it even harder to pull them in the direction I need them to go, which is down. I should have recruited Leonard to help when he dropped us off . We’ve got a triangle of hand-holding going on – each has a hold of one of mine, and one of the other’s – which maybe isn’t the best way to do this. But it’s too late now. I can’t imagine how opening

my big mouth would help one little bit . “Why are we on a slant?” Cassie’s asks. “Are we in a museum or something ?” Tricia snorts. “Better not be, with the spectacle we’re putting on !” “Okay,” I say. “Stop here .” A murmur of laughter comes from in front of and below us . “Who’s laughing at us?” Cassie calls. “You try doing this blindfolded! Whatever this is !” “What are you doing to us, Carson?” Tricia growls. “I didn’t sign up for public humiliation .” I hide a grimace, even though I know that can’t see me. At least we’ve reached where we need to be. I position the two of them so they face the same direction, holding their arms to make sure neither of them falls over . “All right, you can take them off now .” “This better be worth it, buster,” says Tricia . “I’m sure it will be,” Cassie says, patting my hand. She leans toward me. “It better be .”

They both reach up and tug on the fabric knots of their blindfolds . “Ta-da,” I say . The look on their faces is worth every penny and every stumbling step it took to get to this point . “Oh, my God,” Cassie says. “Is this …?” Tricia, as always, is a bit more blunt . “Holy shit!” she says . I direct their attention to the stage and the gentleman standing there . “I apologize for the laughs from the orchestra,” he says. “They’re all drunk. They usually spend their afternoons in a bar .” More laughter from the orchestra pit in front of us . Cassie looks at me, mouth open . “Are you serious ?” “He’s serious, all right,” says the man on stage. “Hi, my name is Michael. I’m the stage manager for The Book of Mormon .”

Tricia scans the place, wide-eyed. The Eugene O’Neill Theater is empty except for us . “We’re the only ones here!” she crows . “It’s a private matinee,” says Michael. “Which is pretty amazing since, like I said, no one involved in this show gets up before happy hour .” I drape an arm over Cassie’s shoulder . “You didn’t get to finish watching the show the last time you were here,” I say. “I figured you wouldn’t mind watching the first half again .” I turn to Tricia . “As for you, I figured you could use a little culture .” She grins wide and flips me the bird . “This is seriously awesome, Carson,” she says. “Thank you so much for inviting me .” “How did you pull this off?” Cassie asks . I point to the stage . “A sizeable donation to the Foundation for the Arts opens a lot of doors,” Michael says. “The truckload

of top-shelf scotch didn’t hurt, either .” I direct the women to their seats directly behind the orchestra pit . “This is hands-down the craziest thing that’s ever happened to me,” Cassie says as she settles in . “Correction,” I say. “The craziest thing this week .” Tricia grins. “I would tell you two to get a room, but I want an invite to whatever the next crazy thing is .” “Don’t worry,” I say. “You’ll get one .” “Ahem,” says Cassie. “That depends on what the next crazy thing is .” “Seriously,” Tricia deadpans. “You’re not making the ‘get a room’ thing easy here .” Cassie rolls her eyes and tilts her head toward mine . “Riff-raff,” she sighs. “It’s getting so people like us can’t even go to the theater without running into them .” Tricia ignores her and stretches her legs out into the aisle, crossing them at the ankles .

“I could get used to this,” she sighs . The lights go low as the familiar strains of “Hello” begin to waft from the orchestra directly below us. Once again, the young men in their short-sleeved shirts and black ties take the stage . “This is obscene,” Cassie whispers in my ear . “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” I whisper back .

Chapter Two Hundred Four 4 6. CASSANDRA A week later . “Okay, I admit it: coming to Grand Cayman in August wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had .” I can barely hear Carson through the giant floppy hat that’s doing an abysmal job of protecting my pale, increasingly freckled skin from the scorching hell of the Caribbean sun. But hey, at least the sunscreen is running off my body in rivulets, thanks to a constant supply of sweat . Of course, it actually works in Carson’s favor. When he’s all sweated up, his physique glistens in the sun like an oiled-up bodybuilder’s. Except he’s not afflicted with their pig-ugly, veiny head . “Whatever makes you say that?” I ask sweetly, plucking an ice cube from my gin and tonic and dropping it down my cleavage. If I’m suffering, I figure Carson has to as well .

Okay, it could be worse. The restaurant – and its blessed air-conditioning – is only a few steps away. And there’s a bit of a breeze coming off the ocean . But my God, the humidity. I’ve read that it’s impossible for it to go above one hundred percent at sea level, but I’m seriously wondering if the hypothesis needs more research. If I could prove it’s possible, I could publish and go for my PhD . Or I could stop being such a baby and finish my drink. That seems like the more viable option. And more pleasant. I down it in a gulp, my taste buds puckering at the bitterness of the tonic . “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Carson says. “After we’re done here, we can fly to Reykjavik. Shouldn’t be more than sixty degrees there .” I smile sweetly and stroke his cheek . “Oh, honey,” I soothe. “It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than that to make up for this .” He grins and drains his Corona. It joins the army of empties on the table. Dealing with this weather is thirsty work . In the distance I see Tricia and Maksim trudging toward us through the sand. Neither of them seems

all that put out by the heat, although it’s hard to tell with Maks. He sort of has a light sheen to his skin all the time, regardless of temperature . “Who would have thought those two would get along?” I say as they approach . Carson drapes an arm over the back of his chair, letting his shirt fall open to expose his torso . “Maks is pretty easygoing,” he says. “Although, to be honest, I wasn’t sure if he’d come on this trip. The last time we hung out, we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms .” “What happened ?” He looks at me over his Oakleys . “He wanted to go out with you .” An involuntary snort escapes me before I can stop it . “Sorry,” I say. “He’s a really nice guy, but me and him? Especially when you’re in the picture? I don’t think so .” “Actually, I think I owe him for driving home just how much I want you to myself .”

“Is that right?” I drop my own glasses. “Well, I guess I owe him then, too .” Speak of the devils. Tricia and Maksim arrive at the table, shaking the sand out of their beach towels. Tricia’s compact curves fill out her wet one-piece nicely, while Maks’ kind of looks like most of his time in the gym is spent chatting up girls. Still, I guess Tricia knows what she’s doing . “There were stingrays flying out in the surf!” Tricia says, grinning like a kid . “I saw no fish flying,” says Maks. “I was only seeing lovely Patricia .” She wraps her towel around her and sits at the table, plucking a beer from the ice bucket on the concrete . “I appreciate the effort, Maks,” she says as she pops the cap off the bottle. “But it’s not going to happen .” To his credit, Maksim just smiles and spreads his hands wide in a “what are you gonna do?” gesture . Carson glances at his phone on the table and then up at me .

“I suppose we should get to the bank,” he says. “Money never sleeps, but bankers sure as hell do. It’ll be closed in an hour .” I gather up my beach bag. We’ve been so busy being obscenely rich the last couple of days that I almost forgot I just won a multi-million-dollar prize. Carson suggested we come directly to Cayman to deal with the money, given the legal tightrope I’m walking with it . We wave good-bye to our friends and hop in a passing taxi van that speeds us to the Grand National Bank of the Islands. A tall black gentleman in island business casual greets us in the deliciously frigid foyer as we walk in . “Ms. Vincent, a pleasure to meet you,” he says. “Andre Moreau. We spoke on the phone .” “A pleasure,” I say, taking his offered hand. “This is my friend, Carson Drake .” Andre’s eyes widen. “The Carson Drake ?” “Well, a Carson Drake anyway,” he replies. He bends down and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll wait for you out here .” I love that he’s leaving this to me. It means a lot

that he’s not trying to horn in and give me advice. Mainsplaining , they call it. But Carson would never . Andre ushers me into his office and we take a seat. He boots up his computer and begins typing . “If I remember correctly, we will be discussing a sum of $2.75 million USD .” “That’s correct,” I say . Three days shy of the full $3.5 million, because of circumstances beyond our control, but Carson said he’ll reimburse me for his impatience . “I’m interested in the best way to access it in the States in a lump sum for a business investment .” After a few moments, he stops typing. His eyes narrow and his brows draw together as he peers at the screen . It’s never a good thing when someone looks like they don’t believe what a computer is telling them . “This is… unusual,” he says . “How so ?” He looks at me with a mix of disbelief and

sympathy . “Madam, I’m afraid this account is empty .”

Chapter Two Hundred Five 4 7. CASSANDRA My heart sends out a single kick drum beat in my chest as adrenaline pumps into my system . “There must be a mistake,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. Inside, I’m anything but . “Perhaps,” says Andre. “There was a balance of $2.75 million USD, but the funds were withdrawn the day before yesterday .” “That can’t be. I haven’t accessed the account in over forty-eight hours .” He continues typing, scanning the monitor for clues. I quickly get the impression that he’s only humoring me. Staving off the moment he has to confirm the unpleasant truth. But I already know what it is. The pit of my stomach makes that fact absolutely, unpleasantly clear . “It appears the money was recalled by the depositing account .”

What? A cold fury creeps into my guts . “How is that possible?” I ask. How could you let that happen , I want to scream . “There are certain unique provisions in accounts of this nature. Payments can be withheld or withdrawn in extraordinary circumstances, usually to do with breach of contract .” I draw a deep breath and let it out slowly . “I am very sorry, Ms. Vincent,” he says. “Obviously this is a mistake. Unfortunately, it is not one I can rectify here at the bank. You will have to contact your lawyer .” He smiles nervously. I swallow the rage building inside me and manage to smile back . “Of course,” I say, rising from my chair, as if this kind of thing happens to me all the time. “These things happen .” We shake hands and I walk out of the office. Carson looks up from a copy of Yachts International as I emerge into the waiting room. His eyes widen as he sees my expression . “I take it things didn’t go as planned,” he says

cautiously . I flash a thousand-watt smile . “The fuckers took my money back,” I say . Carson’s jaw literally drops open . “What?” “Every cent. Two days ago. Andre said they have the right as the depositor and to take it up with my lawyer. I don’t have a lawyer .” “I’ve got about eighty,” he says absently. “But we can’t get them involved in this. You don’t want something like this coming anywhere near the eyes of a judge .” “No kidding .” He takes me by the shoulders and looks me in the eye . “We can fix this,” he says . “I can fix this,” I say, trying to keep the venom out of my voice . I don’t want Carson Drake riding in on his white horse to save the helpless damsel in distress. This

may be distress, but I’m far from helpless . He holds up his hands in surrender . “Absolutely. I know what you’re capable of .” He wishes. That flip on the dance floor was child’s play. I was just surprised then . You don’t want to see me when I’m angry . Carson smiles crookedly . “Can I ask one favor ?” “Make it good .” “Can it wait till we get back to New York tomorrow night? I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. Until then, let’s enjoy the next twenty-four hours .” I’m still pouting, but the idea is growing on me . “I’m still obscenely rich,” he says . “Yeah, and I’m flat broke .” “But soon to be rich. Maybe not obscenely, but rich enough that people will shake their heads and cluck their tongues .”

I fight the smile as long as I can, but I finally I give in. How does he do this to me? Before he came back into my life, I wouldn’t have slept until I’d figured this out . “All right,” I say, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Let’s go find Tricia and Maks. Might as well have a night out while we’re here. Besides, I want to show off my body. I’ve sweated away fifteen pounds since we arrived .” He shakes his head . “You’re not going to let that go, are you ?” “If you think that’s bad, imagine if you’d stolen a couple million dollars from me .”

Chapter Two Hundred Six 4 8. CARSON One of the great things about Grand Cayman is that the sun sets between 6:00 and 7:00 p.m. every day of the year . And when the sun goes down, the party starts . The club we’re in – it’s called JetStream – is all blue lights and bright whites, with electronica throbbing out of the speakers. But we’ve got a booth in the VIP section, and it’s low season for tourism, so we can actually hear each other. Sort of . Cassie points to the dance floor and puts her lips to my ear . “Look at them!” she says. “Who’d have thought ?” I know from experience that Maksim is a seriously good dancer – he literally lives in nightclubs, how could he not be – but Tricia is a surprise. She’s writhing and grinding with him like an old pro. All

while holding a triple mojito . If nothing else, the girl knows how to cut loose . “I think Tricia likes him,” says Cassie . “Are you kidding? He’s been talking to the hand since we took off from JFK .” “She was just playing hard to get. She wants a guy to work for it .” “That’s good,” I say. “It’s about time Maks had to work for something .” We clink our glasses together and down some of the blue concoction inside. It’s sweet and coconut-y and totally unlike anything I usually drink. But hey, it’s Cayman. And what happens in Cayman … I can tell by the look in her eyes that Cassie’s mind isn’t here in the club, though . “Okay,” I say. “Let’s figure out how we’re going to tackle this when we get home .” She grins like a kid who just got a parent to play Barbies with her. The fact that she gets so giddy about planning revenge disturbs me a little . Not to mention the way it causes my shorts to fit

more tightly . “The woman in the red dress is key,” she says. “If we can find her, we can communicate with the organizers .” “Agreed.” C assie pulls on her lower lip. It’s been a sign of deep thought since we were kids . “Of course, that’s easier said than done,” she says. “They have plenty of kompromat on me and you – and the other contestants. But we have nothing on them. They like it that way .” “Kompro-what, now ?” “Kompromat . It’s Russian for blackmail. Their intelligence community collects or manufactures compromising info on public figures, then uses it as leverage to ensure compliance. The US does it too, but the Russians are masters at it .” Her competence turns me on. Is that wrong? I don’t know, but if this is wrong, I don’t want to be right . I slide my hand under the table and onto her bare thigh. She returns the favor, but her expression is still all business .

“We should operate under the assumption that this was deliberate,” she says. “But we need to make sure we don’t go in with guns blazing, just in case it wasn’t .” “That’s what I was thinking. Diplomacy can work wonders when you give it a chance .” “Unless you’re in a situation where someone is screwing with you,” she says. “Then you nail them to the wall with railroad spikes and pour battery acid into the wounds .” I can’t help myself: I take her hand and lay it directly on my hard-on . Cassie’s eyebrows go up . “Easy, tiger,” she says, but gives me a friendly squeeze for my trouble. “We’ve got all night .” “Believe me, it’s going to take all night .” Her smile is so sexy it makes my heart stop . “Promises, promises,” she purrs . I knock back the rest of my drink in an attempt to steady myself. How was this girl possibly a virgin last week? She’s taken to sex like a fish to water .

I guess she has a lot of lost time to make up for . “All right,” I say. “We agree that the first step is to find Red Dress and figure out what the situation is. If it’s innocuous, we settle it .” She smiles. “I love it when you use $50 words like that .” “It’s my milieu ,” I say, buffing my fingernails on my Guayabera shirt . “Oh my God,” she gasps. “It sounds so dirty when you use it the wrong way like that .” She’s right, dammit, I did screw it up. I chuckle and shake my head . “The question is what we do if it’s not innocuous,” she says. “If they’re trying to pull a fast one .” That prompts an unpleasant idea that never occurred to me before. It should have, but it didn’t . “What if the whole thing was a set-up to get kompromat on a group of wealthy men?” I ask. “Maybe you were meant to be collateral damage the whole time .” Molten lava seethes behind her eyes. Apparently it

never occurred to her, either. Now that is has … “You’re obscenely rich,” she says. “So are the other contestants. That means you have resources .” “What are you driving at ?” “Just like Liam Neeson, I’ve got a very particular set of skills .” “Okay, you’ve got the skills, I’ve got the resources. What are we going to do with them ?” She raises her glass in salute and downs it in a gulp . “We’re going to fuck them up,” she says. “Hard .” “First things first,” I say. “We have to find Red Dress .” Cassie rummages in her purse and pulls out her phone. She slides her finger along the screen for a moment, then turns it toward me. On it is a photo of a laptop screen, featuring a woman with long, golden curls . “It’s not much,” she says. “But it’s a start. I wish I had full access to my agency computers. But then I’d have to explain what I was doing .”

A Cheshire cat grin threatens to circle all the way around my head as I picture the floor-to-ceiling screen in my computer room running through thousands of online photos per hour . “I happen to have something back at my penthouse that may be of service,” I say . Before I can elaborate, Maks and Tricia suddenly appear, sliding into their seats on the other side of the booth. They’re sweating freely and laughing like kids . They see the looks on our faces and the laughter dries up . “I am thinking you need drinks,” Maksim says . Tricia’s eyebrows go up. “Quadruples, by the looks of things. Everything all right ?” I smile. Cassie follows suit . “Nothing we can’t figure out,” I say. “Man, you guys were tearing it up out there !” Maksim beams at Tricia . “A dancer is only as good as his partner,” he says . “You notice his English always gets better when

he’s throwing out pick-up lines?” Tricia says, shaking her head . Cassie giggles, and it’s almost as if our previous conversation never happened. She’s the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met . She raises her hand to catch the server’s eyes. She twirls her index finger in a gesture to signal another round . “All right,” she says. “Let’s kick this night into high gear !” The waitress arrives with a tray of drinks and a shot of what smells like top-shelf Don Julio tequila for each of us . “Compliments of the house,” she says with a practiced smile . We each grab a glass and clink them together . “To obscene riches,” I say . We drink. The smooth liquor goes down like a fire in the walls, heat without flame. I highly recommend expensive tequila if you have the means. The cheap stuff is just rubbing alcohol in a fancier bottle, as far as I’m concerned .

Suddenly Cassie’s lips are at my ear. The scent of her shot fills my nostrils . “Pace yourself,” she whispers. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us, remember ?” Under the table, her hand slides under the hem of my shorts and finds the delicate skin of my cock . “Trust me,” I say. “It’s all I can think about .”

Chapter Two Hundred Seven 4 9. CARSON The screen-window in my computer room displays blonde after blonde after blonde. I’m hoping Red Dress is a natural, or I’ll have to do this all over again with brunette when this cycle is done . In any case, this is going to take awhile, so I might as well be doing something else while it does . I suit up in my running shorts and a tank top and lace up my Reeboks. Matthias worked me like a rented mule this morning, but after all that booze and rich food in Cayman, I feel like I need to put in some extra effort . Plus running always helps me think . I climb into my elevator for the eighty-floor trip to ground level. As it descends, my mind wanders to what Cassie’s doing right now . She’s got a delicate conversation ahead of her. She has to explain to Tricia – then Miranda Winthrop at

Tate Capital – that her funding has been delayed. It’s not a deal-breaker, but it puts her in an awkward position where she’ll have to lie. She’s trying to leave that behind . I get that. I tried to do it for years . The bell chimes as the elevator reaches the lobby. I trot through the foyer and out the front door that Chuck, the doorman, holds open for me. I smile and wave as I go by. Chuck’s cool. I slip him a hundred a couple of times a week and he takes good care of me . Park Avenue is already baking and it’s only 9:30 in the morning. I let my mind go on autopilot as I set my pace, feeling the jolt of each step, listening to the rhythm of my breathing, tuning out the noise of the street and its people . It’s kind of a Zen state that helps clear my mind of distractions so that it can start making the connections that my psychologist was talking about. Running threads of synapses from one piece of information to the other in a web of subconscious thought. Feeling for vibrations the way a spider feels for its prey . I head northwest on 122nd Street to Marcus Garvey Park. If I have to keep dodging all these

pedestrians, I’ll never sink deeply enough into my brain. Once I’m there, traffic disappears and I have the trail mostly to myself . What reasons would the Chase’s organizers have to claw back Cassie’s money? I’ve asked myself that a thousand times over the last thirty-six hours. Occam’s razor says the simplest explanation is usually the right one. Was it just an accounting error ? Somehow, I doubt it. Any group that’s as meticulous about secrecy as they are wouldn’t make a stupid error like that . Blessed shade covers me as I run into a dense copse of elm trees. Now I’m wishing I had thought to bring my water bottle with me. I suppose I can be forgiven – my mind is a bit preoccupied . So what’s the next scenario? Kompromat? If so, they’re taking an awful risk. I don’t know how many other billionaires are involved, but there’s only so far they’ll be willing to be pushed. Like Cassie says, we have resources . And I know from personal experience that many of them can be real bastards when they want to be. They didn’t get where they are by rolling over and showing their bellies .

Or is it simpler than I’m making it? Maybe the men behind the Chase are just cheap misogynists. I mean, look at what the Chase is all about. They could simply be screwing Cassie over, believing there’s nothing she can do about it . If so, they definitely don’t know who they’re dealing with . Out of the corner of my eye, I see a water fountain and head toward it. Normally I can go a few miles without a drink, but damn, it’s a scorcher today . I bend down to let the water flow into my mouth. When I’m done, I stand up to see a blonde in a red sundress standing beside me . “Good afternoon,” she says with a smile. “I hate to interrupt your exercise, but I’m afraid we have a few urgent matters to discuss .”

Chapter Two Hundred Eight 5 0. CASSANDRA “So let me get this straight,” Tricia says, cocking an eyebrow. “We just spent three days watching a private matinee, flying a private jet to Grand Cayman, and staying in five-star hotels, right ?” “Right.” I feel like a kid in the principal’s office instead of a grown woman in an ice cream shop . “And now you’re telling me we have to wait a while for our start-up capital to come in .” “Yeah.” She manages to glare at me for a full five seconds before she bursts out laughing . “I know,” I groan. “It sounds ridiculous. But it’s just business. We’re still on track, I promise .” Tricia wraps a sugar-sticky arm around my neck and hugs me tight .

“I’ll tell you what, honey,” she sighs. “Life is never boring when you’re around. I know you’re good for it, Cassie. Besides, you were always the one with the deadline, not me .” She’s got me there. I guess I just assumed she’d be as disappointed as I am in not being able to move ahead on schedule. I should have known better. I’ve always been a Type A. Doesn’t mean everyone else is . “Now if only Miranda Winthrop can be as forgiving,” I say . Of course, Miranda definitely is . “Look, hon, I get that you want to make it on your own, and I’m totally with you on that,” says Tricia. “And I’m sure Miranda won’t have any problem extending the deadline. But if she doesn’t, you know you can just drop Carson’s name, right ?” I do know she’s right, but just the thought of it makes me stiffen. I didn’t go through everything I’ve been through to just roll over and ask Carson to save me. I know he’d do it in a heartbeat, but that’s not how I do things. For good or bad, that’s not how my father raised me . “I’ll keep it in mind,” I say, leaning in to give her a

peck on the cheek. “And I’ll let you know how it goes .” “Chin up,” she says as I head for the door. “Your life is still pretty fucking good, you know .” I realize she’s right as I leave the air-conditioned safety of Patty’s and step into the midday Midtown oven. It’s just hot enough that I decide to cab it to Tate Capital instead of walking . I head for the taxi stand about a half a block up the street when someone pulls alongside me. I glance out of the corner of my eye to see a familiar face: it’s the Texan gentleman who bought me the white roses in Hell’s Kitchen . He stops to face me, and his jowls lift in an easy grin. He’s dressed in a manner more suited to his home state today: short-sleeved cowboy shirt, jeans and boots . “Looky who it is!” he hoots. “I told you I’d see you later !” “Well, hi!” I smile back. “Now, what are the odds that we’d run into each other again ?” “I don’t know,” he says. “But I bet you do. I’m sure you’re as smart as you are pretty .”

Sweet old guy. I notice he’s not wearing his ball cap today; the pink skin on his scalp is gleaming in the sun . “You should probably wear a hat on a day like this,” I scold. “At least get some sixty SPF on there .” It’s then that I notice the tan line. His face is brown, but the pink begins right at what would be his hairline if he had hair. That’s odd . “Did you shave your head when you came to New York?” I ask . Why would he do that ? His grin widens and he slaps his knee. “I knew you were smart !” Something weird is going on here. My instincts are starting to crawl around in in my belly like a little spider . “Have you and I met before?” I ask . “Not exactly,” he says, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. He produces a leather wallet and pulls a small square of paper from it. He shows it to me .

“Maybe you’ve seen my photo somewhere before .” It’s a folded piece of glossy magazine paper. On it is a mugshot of a portly man with flowing silver hair and jowls that hang like pouches from his cheekbones . It’s him. But it’s also someone else . I look up to see him smiling at me, black humor gleaming in his beady eyes . Eyes that were hidden behind sunglasses that day in Hell’s Kitchen . Oh, my God . “You’re Randall Buckner,” I breathe . No. 17 on Forbes’ list of richest people in America . “Right the first time,” he says . His hand reaches into the pocket of his jeans. When it emerges, it’s holding something familiar. Something I saw five nights ago in Carson’s hand . A brass skeleton key . I look up to see three burly men closing in on me .

“Pleased to officially meet you, Cassandra,” says Buckner. “I hope you’re ready for our date .”

Chapter Two Hundred Nine 5 1. CARSON “I’m glad you saved me the trouble of having to find you,” I say, trying to keep my temper in check . Another man might find it emasculating, but not me. I don’t care that Cassie is way more hardcore than I am. In fact, I kind of wish she was right here by my side . Red Dress stands there with her hands folded in front of her. She’s calm and totally dry, despite the stifling heat and humidity of the afternoon. I’m still trying to slow my breathing so I can sound calmer. I hate being caught off guard . “And you’re right. We do have things to talk about. First and foremost, Ca – the quarry’s money .” She smiles . “The quarry forfeited the prize when you broke the rules .”

Broke the rules? What kind of bullshit is this ? I take a deep breath before my agitation has a chance to show on my face. Keep it under control, Carson. This isn’t the time or place . “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I say evenly. “I was under the impression that I won the competition fair and square on the eleventh day .” Her smile is maddening, like a game show hostess who’s expressing just how darn sorry she is that you didn’t win the new washing machine . “Some information came to light early on that disqualified you as a contestant,” she says . “And what might that information be ?” “You and the quarry had a pre-existing relationship. You became reacquainted on the first day and continued to meet daily, yet you never ended the competition .” Oh, shit . Steady, Carson. Keep it off your face . “We knew each other years ago,” I say. “It was sheer coincidence that we were both involved in

this .” “My associates find that hard to believe. At first they were willing to accept that you were merely conspiring together to win the competition. But that made no sense – neither of you stood to gain from it . “That was when I suggested you were, in fact, investigating them .” This time I can’t keep my anger in check . “That’s a goddamn lie,” I growl. “What possible reason could we have had to do that ?” “Unfortunately, we don’t know the answer to that just yet. But we’ll discover it soon enough .” I sigh and run a hand down my sweaty face. This is going nowhere. I know Cassie wants to give these people what they have coming to them, but the longer this goes on, the fewer options I see . “Look,” I say. “In the interests of putting this behind us, I’m willing to offer your associates compensation for any perceived damages .” That game show hostess smile again .

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s too late for that option .” My stomach sinks. I don’t like the sound of that . “What are you talking about ?” “Unfortunately, the competition was tainted when you prematurely stole the prize. The quarry is no longer… intact . Therefore, my associates were forced to return the other contestants’ entry fees . Her expression turns serious, and suddenly I’m terrified. If that smarmy smile is gone, I don’t want to hear what she has to say next . “Only one contestant was willing to forego reimbursement,” she says. “In return, he was… allowed to finish the competition, even though the prize was tainted .” Jesus Christ. Cassie . “The contestant is known for his straightforward negotiation style. My associates hope the experience will make the quarry more… amenable to their questions regarding any possible investigation of their activities .” My heart is pounding in my chest. I can hear my

blood coursing through my inner ear . “This ends now,” I say, leveling a finger between her eyes. “No more fucking around, no more euphemisms, no more banter. You call it off and take me to her right now, or I’ll make it my mission to see you spend the rest of your life in the bottom of a pit somewhere deep inside the world’s asshole. Do I make myself clear ?” Her smile is back . “I appreciate your concern,” she says. “But I don’t think that’s going to happen .” I feel a large presence behind me, and I know who it is even before I turn. It’s the man who dropped off the briefcase outside the Boom Boom Room . “My associate is here to escort you back to your penthouse, Mr. Drake .” “So,” I say. “We’re using names now ?” “What harm can come from it at this stage ?” You’ll soon see what harm can come from it, sister . “I’m not going home,” I say. “And if you’re smart, you’ll get on your phone right now and call

everything off, then take me to her. If you don’t, I won’t be responsible for what happens next .” She pouts those ruby lips into a pitying look . “Mr. Drake, please don’t waste time on hollow threats .” “You’re right,” I say, hanging my head. “I should stop wasting time .” With that, I flex my right hip from the foot upwards and loop my right fist in a rising arc that connects squarely with her jaw .

Chapter Two Hundred Ten 5 2. CASSANDRA The room isn’t in the Regent. Of course it’s not, that would be stupid . It’s in the Hotel James, a fleabag off of Times Square. The three goons are posted outside in the hallway, and I’m alone with Randall Buckner. Randall Fucking Buckner. How could I have been so stupid ? “You know,” he says, “I should have just given you the key that day in Hell’s Kitchen instead of those roses,” he says, sitting on the swaybacked old bed and pulling off his boots. “I was pretty sure you were the one at that point – that’s why I bought you the white bouquet. They’re supposed to symbolize purity .” He looks me up and down like a steer at auction. Like I should know the color of the rose that symbolizes fucking purity. This guy makes me sick .

“Course, I guess that doesn’t apply anymore,” he mutters, a disgusted grimace scraping his face. “But I guess we’ll make up for it .” “I don’t understand,” I breathe. “What’s going to make up for it ?” He’s acting like someone who always gets his way, as if there’s no other possible outcome. I never really appreciated just how special Carson is among the obscenely rich. He’s a real person. A human being . Most of them are just obscenely entitled . “Well, like I told you on the ride here, I decided to forego my refund in order to get you for a night .” “Because the Russians think I cheated,” I say. “But they’re wrong! I didn’t cheat !” He chuckles. It makes his jowls quiver like a pair of turkey wattles . “Man alive, you are a feisty one!” he hoots. “That’s going to make this even better. Anyway, they want me to soften you up a bit so they can question you afterwards. They’re worried that maybe you and Drake are trying to collect some damning evidence to use against them .”

“But we didn’t! We would never !” He untucks his cowboy shirt and starts to open the buttons . “Doesn’t really matter to me what they do with you after,” he says. “I just have to make sure you’re receptive to it. I’m good at making gals receptive. I rented out the whole floor tonight, just in case things get loud .” He slides his belt out of the loops on his jeans and coils it around one fist . I will the blood to rise into my cheeks . “No,” I whisper, lying through my teeth. I just need a second’s opening. I’ll rip this fat fuck to shreds. “It doesn’t have to be that way. I’ll do whatever you want .” “Honey, you’re going to do that anyway .” Panic creeps across my face as my eyes dart around the room . “I’ll be good,” I plead, shuffling closer to him. “I can p-please you .” He stops and gives me the once-over. I take that as

a good sign and move even closer. I reach under the overhang of his belly and unbutton the fly of his jeans . His leathery palm whips forward and strikes my left cheek with a dry smacking sound. I gasp . “I didn’t say stop, bitch,” he growls . I avoid his eyes and tug downward on his jeans until the waist is around his knees . “What are you waiting for, stupid?” he says. “Take ‘em all the way off .” “I don’t think so,” I say, grabbing his right wrist in my left hand and twisting it inwards. The motion drags him toward me and to my right, where his nose connects squarely with my rising elbow . The wet crunch it makes is the most satisfying sound I’ve heard in a long time . “Guhnf,” he croaks as he stumbles forward. The waistband of his jeans trips him at the knee and he hurtles face-first toward the floor. My right knee stops his momentum, snapping his head back. The blow sends him sprawling onto his side on the floor, out cold .

I time the thump of his fat gut landing with a scream . “No, please!” I cry, tugging off the ring that came in my Chase package. I realize now that it’s how they tracked me and sent Buckner to my location. I stuff it into his bleeding mouth . I clap my hands together hard and follow it up with another shriek . “Oh God! Someone help !” Meanwhile, I examine the window. There’s a slide opening at the bottom, but it’s not wide enough for me to wriggle through. The upper casement is big enough to fit through, but it doesn’t open . I figure I’ll have less than a minute before the goons in the hall come charging in . It’ll have to do . I pick up Buckner under his armpits and drag him toward the window. If I have to do this, might as well get some poetic justice out of it . I drop him on his knees on the windowsill and grip his skull on both sides. With a swift motion, I jerk it back and then drive it forward, shattering the glass .

The inevitable knock comes as I wrap my hand in the curtain and knock out the remaining shards . “Sir! Everything all right ?” I hop out onto the fire escape and swing onto the descending ladder. We’re on the third floor, so I have to hop from the end of the ladder onto the balcony below, then down its ladder and onto the alley below that . A goon’s head appears in the window just as I look up. I see the flash of the muzzle an instant before I hear the cough of the silencer. A slug kicks up chunks of pavement less than a dozen inches from my foot . I sprint from the alley into the street, melding into the Times Square crowd. It amazes me how someone who had the brains to become the seventeenth richest person in America could be stupid enough to pick a hotel right next to the most congested spot in North America . I emerge into the Square and get my bearings. Avoiding the goons in here shouldn’t be difficult. The question is, where do I go next? The goons took my phone, so I can’t call Carson . Thank God it’s Times Square, one of the few places

left in the country that still has payphones. This is going to be easier than I thought . As I rummage in my pocket for a quarter, I scan the area. And suddenly, all my bravado dries up and flies away like a feather in the wind . Across the street, Tricia is sitting at a table on the sidewalk outside a coffee shop. Next to her is a swarthy man I’ve never seen . He’s pointing a gun at her under the table .

Chapter Two Hundred Eleven 5 3. CARSON The big man is much faster than he has any right to be . He’s easily six-nine and probably four hundred pounds, but he’s on me in a flash, wrapping his tree trunk arms around me in a bear hug from behind. He straightens to his full height, lifting me a good three inches off the ground . It presents an interesting challenge from a physics perspective: my arms are locked in place and I have no leverage since my feet are off the ground . Luckily, I don’t need leverage to use my trapezius muscles to whip my head backwards . The back of my skull connects squarely with the bridge of the big man’s nose and I hear cartilage snap. He reflexively drops me and reaches up to touch his shattered face, allowing me time to land, drop to my back and piston my right foot upwards

into his balls . Again, thanks to physics, I have the upper hand because I have the stability of the ground under me. Combine that with the hours I spend in the gym with Matthias every day and my odds in this confrontation are actually pretty good . Now might be a good time to mention that Matthias is a retired four-time world mixed martial arts champion. When I say he kicks my ass, I mean he literally kicks my ass . The big man is reeling backwards, consumed with pain I’ve inflicted to two of his most vulnerable areas, giving the perfect opportunity to finish this with a couple of shots to his kidneys and a shin kick to the base of his thigh where it meets the knee . Pain explodes in my temple and the world goes wobbly for a moment. When my vision finally clears, I see him still stumbling but flailing wildly. It’s my own damn fault for underestimating him – his arms are almost as big as my legs. If there’s one thing that physics can’t compensate for, it’s mass. And the big man has that in spades . I reach down and throw a handful of dirt into his face, sending him staggering backward, following it up with a stomp kick downward to his knee. That

does the trick; his leg collapses inward and twists at an unnatural angle . He’s not getting up from that. Now to finish with Red Dress . I scan the area: she’s gone . Shit. I underestimated her ability to recover from that punch. If Matthias finds out I couldn’t knock out a woman, I’m really in trouble . Then again, I get the sense she’s no ordinary woman . A crowd has started to gather – typical New Yorkers, only show up when the fight is over – so I head back down the way I came as fast as I can go. I pull out my phone and call Cassie . No answer. Shit . All right, don’t panic. Clear, rational thinking. You’ve always been able to do it before . Yeah, but you’ve never been in love with a woman in danger before . I thumb Maksim’s picture in my contacts. He picks up on the third ring .

“Tovarishch! What is up, dog ?” “Maks, listen carefully,” I pant as I emerge from the park onto Madison Avenue. “I need you to meet me at my apartment immediately with everything you have on your uncle. Photos, records, anything tangible .” The line is silent for several moments . “I don’t have time to fuck around, Maks! Really bad things are going to happen if you don’t !” “Ennh, Carson, I’m not really wanting to do that …” “Listen!” I bellow. “Cassie is in danger, and if anything happens to her, I swear to God I’ll spend my last dime making sure every member of your family ends up deported back to Russia and thrown into prison to rot for the rest of their miserable lives !” I know I’m not serious. I think I’m not serious. But right now, I’m being pushed. And there’s no limit to what I’ll do to the person who threatens the woman I love . “Bozhe moi! Cassie is in danger ?”

“If you only take one thing seriously in your entire life, Maks, this has to be it! Get what I need and get to my place! Now ! ” I end the call and sprint harder toward home. A cab blares its horn at me as I cut across the avenue and into its back seat. I gasp out my address and throw a hundred dollar bill at him. He takes off like Dale Earnhardt, Jr . Long minutes tick by as my heart hammers in my chest. I can’t have found Cassie again, only to turn around and lose her like this. I can’t ! After what seems like an eternity, I see my building. I jump out on the fly in the middle of the street and sprint to the front door . Chuck’s eyes widen as he sees me coming, and he throws open the door . “Everything okay, Mr. D ?” “No,” I say. “Buzz me when Maks gets here, will you ?” “Will do, sir .” I stab the button for my elevator and, thank heaven for small favors, it’s already on the ground floor. It

takes me up the eighty stories at a painfully slow rate, allowing me time to think about every possible horrible scenario that could happen to Cassie .

Chapter Two Hundred Twelve 5 4. CASSANDRA Assess the threat. Analyze the options. Choose the outcome with the best chance of survival . These concepts are all ingrained in me to the point of being second nature. But I’ve never been in a situation where someone I love is in the line of fire. Literally . I scan the area on either side of the table, but I already know that there won’t be any heroic measures. The potential for catastrophe in such a crowded place is unacceptable. If there’s one reason I went into the CIA, it was to stop Americans getting hurt. I won’t have it happen on my watch . There’s only one way out of this that I can see . Tricia looks like she can’t decide between panic and fury. Her eyes are like a caged animal’s, but the snarl on her lips says she’d castrate this guy as soon

as look at him if she could. My gut is in knots knowing that something I did put her in danger . I approach the table head-on, giving the gunman plenty of time to see my red hair and recognize me. The last thing I want is to get close and startle him, for fear that he reflexively pulls the trigger . Tricia sees me first, her eyes widening . “Cassie, get out of here!” she calls. “It’s a set-up !” The gunman looks up and sees me. My hands are raised to show him I’m not armed . “It’s all right, Trish,” I say calmly. “This is all just a misunderstanding. We’ll get it sorted out .” “Thank you for being so reasonable,” the guy says. His accent tags him as Albanian. “Your friend here was only meant to be a failsafe. Looks like my employers were right not to underestimate you .” “Let her go,” I say. “It’s me you want .” “Where is the winning contestant ?” “On the way to the emergency room, if he’s lucky .” He frowns .

“That is unexpected .” He pulls out a phone and hits a speed-dial number. Then a conversation in Russian. I’m not an expert, but I have a working familiarity. I make out references to compensation and a cleanup crew, as well as the Hotel James. All in all, it doesn’t sound promising . “Da,” he says, then ends the call . “You piece of shit,” Tricia spits. “My friend Maks is connected with some powerful Russians. When he finds out what you’re doing –” “The people behind this are those powerful Russians,” I say. “Sorry, sweetie, I didn’t know this would happen .” Tricia’s eyes are wild, looking from me to the gunman and back again . “What the hell is going on here, Cass ?” “I’ll explain later. Right now I have to go with this gentleman here. As soon as he lets you go .” He stands up, and I see that he’s draped a nylon running jacket over his clasped hands, hiding the

gun . “Actually, you are both coming with me,” he says . I shake my head . “Uh-uh. Me only .” A black Lincoln pulls up beside us and the gunman opens the back door . “Both of you get in,” he says. “Or both of you die right here and I jump in this car and speed away .” Shit. “I’m so sorry, Trish,” I say, taking her by the shoulder and pulling her into the car . “What do you mean about Maks? He’s not involved in this, is he? Cassie, what is going on ?” “It’s a long story,” I sigh as the Albanian closes the door and gets in the front with the driver . 5 5. CARSON The elevator doors open and I drag Maks out by the collar . “Come with me,” I say, leading him down the hall

to the computer room . “I’m not getting what is happening,” he yelps as I toss him onto the sofa. “What is going on with Cassie? Why are you being so angry ?” I take a deep breath and sit down opposite him, fixing him with a glare that I hope conveys just how serious the situation is . “Long story short,” I say. “Your uncle and whoever else in involved in running the Chase have Cassie. They’re going to hurt her .” “Bozhe moi,” he breathes. “But why ?” “Cassie was the quarry in the Chase. I caught her. But your uncle thinks we cheated and that we’re somehow conspiring against him .” He blinks rapidly, staring at nothing . “I looked up your family while you were on your way here,” I say, calling up the screen on the window. It fills with a grainy shot of a man in his sixties, with a brush cut and deep pouches under his eyes . “I know your uncle is Alexei Ivchenko. Except that’s an alias – I can’t find any record of him

before 2004. You would have been seventeen at the time, so you obviously know his real name. What is it ?” Maksim looks at the floor in silence for a moment, and I have to combat the urge to reach out and throttle him . “Bogdan,” he says finally. “His name was Bogdan Nabatov .” My fingers fly over the keyboard as I boot up my own personal hacking software. Code runs by on the window as I kick down back doors in the NKVD, Russia’s security and law enforcement division . The program doesn’t work quickly enough for my brain, and I feel the kind of frustration I used to experience as a toddler, when my language skills weren’t yet up to expressing what was going on in my head . “I am sorry, tovarishch ,” Maks says, still staring at the floor. “For everything. I should never have been telling you about the Chase .” “Your uncle should never have been doing the Chase,” I mumble as I scan the data on the screen .

Who am I trying to bullshit? I should never have been doing the Chase ! I fight off a wave of shame that threatens to take my attention away from the matter at hand. Names and faces begin to run across the screen as I access the NKVD’s watchlist files . “I knew why we left Russia,” Maks says. “I was old enough. I listened to the talking at family dinners. But I try to ignore it all. Party all the time. That way I don’t think about it .” “I’m not your therapist, Maks,” I say, eyes on the screen . Finally, a file: Bogdan Nabatov, brother of Maksim’s mother, Ilyanna. Indicted in the early days of Putin’s first term for trafficking in sex slaves, importing heroin from Albania and several counts of murder . And he’s got Cassie . “My father bought us out of Russia after Uncle Bogdan was arrested,” says Maks. “We all got new names in America, and Papa hid all of his money. He is a good man, not like Bogdan .” “Keep telling yourself that,” I mutter as I try to find

anything new on Alexei Ivchenko. Nothing. He’s learned how to hide very well in his new homeland . Wait a minute … “Maks, you said all of your father’s money,” I say. “Does that mean Alexei doesn’t have any of his own ?” “I think Bogdan had to leave all his own money in Russia,” he says. “Papa runs the business and pays him salary .” “So his money is all underground …” Maks looks confused. “He does not bury his money, Carson .” “Forget it,” I say. “I need you to call him and set up a meeting. Right now .” He seems conflicted for a moment, but before I can say anything, he pulls his phone from his pocket and dials a number. There’s a brief conversation in Russian. Maks looks on the verge of throwing up the whole time . Finally he ends the call .

“One hour,” he says. “At gentleman’s club in Brighton Beach. I am to take you there .” That’s good. We’re making progress . “What about Cassie?” I ask. “Is she all right ?” “For now. He is waiting to see what you will be saying .” I breathe deeply, let it out slowly. There’s still hope, if my plan works . My eyes meet Maksim’s and I see tears there . “I am so sorry, my friend,” he whispers. “I never would be wanting anyone to be hurt, especially Cassie .” My heart sinks. He’s a victim in this too, and I’ve been treating him like a criminal for the last hour. I wrap an arm around his neck and squeeze . “I know that, buddy. And thanks to what you just did, I think we’ll be able to get her out of this .” Even if it costs me everything I have . I take a last glance at the screen, only to see another pop up from behind that one .

Match found , it reads . Holy shit! I totally forgot I left the facial recognition program working in the background when I went for my run . Up comes a photo of Red Dress, but no name. She’s wearing a black dress this time, but it’s definitely her. It’s from a dark web site that features photos of satanic rituals. What kind of sick person would be into this kind of shit ? The text posting alludes to an annual sacrifice at the height of summer. Reference to it being a female, and recently defiled … Oh God, no . “Maks!” I snap. “The Chase – is it always at this time of year ?” “I am not being sure exactly …” “Is it always in summer ?!” “Yes! Always summertime. Why ?” My heart gallops in my chest as my stomach turns to ice . “She’s going to kill Cassie,” I breathe. “That bitch

is going to kill the woman I love .”

Chapter Two Hundred Thirteen 5 5. CASSANDRA The ride to Brighton Beach was awkward, to say the least . “So all this was going on and you never told me any of it?” Tricia barks. “Great, now I feel like the dumb sidekick in a romantic comedy !” We’re sitting in the parlor of a vast Victorian mansion. It appears to be a gentleman’s club of sorts, judging by the photos of old men sitting around the place smoking cigars and drinking. None of those gentlemen is here right now, though . The room is beautiful. In any other circumstances, I’m sure it would be enchanting . As it is, it makes me want to vomit . “How many times can I say I’m sorry, Trish ?” “I don’t know. How about you keep going and I tell you when to stop ?”

“Be quiet,” our Albanian friend says from the corner of the room . If it was just him guarding us, I might try to make a move. But he’s been joined by a couple of others, both of whom have hairy chests and unibrows. And guns, of course . “You three are thoroughly unattractive,” Tricia snipes. “I just want you to know that before you kill us. I’m talking not a hope in hell .” The Albanian rolls his eyes . “What are we waiting for, exactly?” I ask . It’s common practice to keep people isolated and bored when you’re trying to break them. That’s not going to work on me, so I’d like to speed the process along, whatever the endgame might be . “I think it’s me,” says a voice from behind me . I turn, and my heart sinks as I see Carson and Maksim walking into the room. They can’t be here! It’s bad enough I couldn’t keep Tricia from being involved in this. If anything happens to Carson, my heart will crumble and disappear . “Are you all right?” Carson asks, eyes wide .

I look directly at the Albanian, using all my training to keep my emotions from showing on my face or in my voice . “Get them out of here,” I say coldly. “This doesn’t involve them .” Tricia glares at Maks . “What are you doing here with them?” she asks. “Are you involved in this too ?” He doesn’t meet her eyes, just looks at the floor . “Cassie,” Carson says. “I’m here to negotiate for you .” I want to yell at him to get out now, to run. But I won’t give these Russian slugs the satisfaction of seeing me weak . “I don’t negotiate with people like this,” I say . Tricia turns her glare to me . “Were you planning to tell me that at some point?” she yells . “I’m sorry, Cassie,” Carson sighs. “I’m the one in charge here, not you .”

“That is good to hear,” says a voice from the doorway . Without looking up, Maks says: “Hello, Uncle .” Next to the Albanian guard is a barrel-chested man with a wide face and a pompadour of iron-gray hair. His hairy body is covered in a sheen of sweat under his Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts . “Aannd the sexiness factor in the room just went down, somehow,” says Tricia . “Not now, Trish,” I growl . Carson locks eyes with the newcomer . “Bogdan Nabatov,” he says. “I’m glad we finally get to meet .” The old man’s eyes flash anger and he tilts his head toward Maks . “You and I will have a long talk after all this is over, boy,” he snarls . Maks says nothing . “This meeting is about you and me,” Carson snaps. “Nobody else. I want just the two of us in a room. I think I have an offer you’ll appreciate .”

Nabatov pulls a cigar from his shirt pocket and lights it. The stench of the smoke makes my stomach hitch . “You would like that, I’m sure,” he says. His English is much better than Maksim’s. “But I’m afraid we will all stay right where we are. I know what you did to my associates; I can assure you that won’t happen to me .” What Carson did? What did he do ? “Fine,” says Carson. “I’m here to make a deal. To compensate you for your losses. And to prove that there is no investigation against you .” “Is that so?” Nabatov’s thick eyebrows go up. “Well, then. I am a reasonable man. Please go on .” “You let these two go,” says Carson, pointing to Tricia and me. “And I sign over my fortune to you .” What? I see naked greed in Nabatov’s eyes as the offer sinks in. His cigar almost drops from his mouth . “Carson, no!” I blurt .

“I told you before,” he says, eyes never leaving Nabatov. “I’m in charge here, not you .” “Carson, I am not going to let you give up everything you’ve worked for just so a piece of shit like this won’t do something to me! I can handle myself !” “Well?” he says, ignoring me. “What do you say, Bogdan ?” Nabatov sucks on his cigar for a moment before answering . “And how do you propose to do this?” he asks . “I know you’re under your brother’s thumb here in America,” says Carson. “You create a shill corporation and I buy it from you for everything I have, three billion and change. I get a worthless company, you get the cash. More than enough for you to go legit and give up nonsense like the Chase .” This is crazy. If I weren’t so desperately in love with Carson, I’d kill him myself for being such a fool . Nabatov chews his cigar noisily .

“I would be amenable to that,” he says. “Of course, part of the money would have to go to compensate Mr. Buckner for his… troubles .” Carson frowns. “Buckner ?” “Don’t ask,” I say . “How do I know you will keep your end of the deal, Mr. Drake ?” “Simple,” says Carson. “You keep Cassie here until it goes through. I’ll make sure my lawyers fasttrack it .” Fuck that! I open my mouth to say exactly those words, but Maksim beats me to the punch . “No, Uncle,” he says, looking up from the floor for the first time since he arrived . Nabatov turns slowly to face his nephew . “What did you say to me?” he growls, his heavy brows drawn down over his piggy little eyes . “I said no. You are not going to be hurting my friends. I won’t let you .”

Chapter Two Hundred Fourteen 5 7. CARSON “Stay out of this, Maks,” I say. “It’s between your uncle and me .” “And me!” Cassie snaps . “Excuse me!” Tricia gripes. “I’m sitting right here !” Maks steps slowly and deliberately toward Nabatov. The guards move to intercept him, but a raised hand from his uncle stops them . “Was that a threat?” the older man says, eyes wide. “From little Maksim ?” “I won’t let you hurt them,” Maks says, his voice stronger this time . “And what will you do to stop me? Dance at me? Make me drink until I pass out ?” Maks stops on the edge of the exquisite Persian

rug, a few yards from where Nabatov stands in the arched doorway . “I don’t have to be doing anything,” he says. “That’s the easy part .” Nabatov frowns . “What the hell are you talking about, boy ?” “All I have to be doing is not calling a phone number for a few days,” says Maks. “When I don’t do that, someone I pay money to will be sending a package to FBI office in New York City .” The older man’s face slackens and this time, the cigar actually falls out of his mouth to the floor . “Stupid little Maksim is not so stupid, Uncle,” says Maks. “Ever since I was being teenager, I make recordings. I take photos. I am writing things down. Just in case something ever happens to me; maybe someday you decide I need to be gone . “So I give sealed package to someone and pay them to be keeping it for me. If I am not contacting that person, they know something bad is happening. They deliver the package .” Holy shit, Maks. This is the life you’ve been living

behind that smile? I glance at Cassie, who looks at me wide-eyed . “You think I don’t know what you were doing in Russia?” he continues. “I know all. You ruined lives of girls. You killed people. Now in America, you are making embarrassment of our family! You are like a rat in the sewer. This country is giving us everything, but you spit on it .” Nabatov tries to smile, but it looks ridiculous on him . “Maksie, Maksie, come on now,” he says. “We don’t need to do this. We’re family .” “No.” Maks waves a hand at me and the girls. “These people are being my family now. Not you .” Nabatov’s face hardens again . “If you do this, your father will go down with me,” he says coldly . Maksim’s eyes close for a long moment . “I know,” he says. “That is why I haven’t been doing this before now. But I must stop you. My friends must be going free .”

The room is silent. I guess no one knows what to say next. I sure as hell don’t . “Very well,” Nabatov sighs. “We have what the Americans call a Mexican standoff. You may leave. Obviously, I have enough information on all of you to burn you if you try to talk to anyone. I will have to compensate Mr. Buckner, but that’s the cost of doing business .” Cassie and I exchange hopeful glances . “And you’ll return the money you owe her to the account in Grand Cayman,” I say. “That’s $2.75 million USD .” He flashes annoyance, but nods . “One more thing,” I say . “Do not push your luck, Mr. Drake,” says Nabatov. “My patience is not infinite .” “The woman in red .” His eyes narrow . “What about her ?” “Do you know what happens to the quarries after the Chase ?”

“They take their money and disappear,” he says with a shrug. “It is no concern of mine .” “They disappear, all right. But not in the way you think .” “What are you talking about?” says Nabatov . “Yeah,” says Cassie. “What are you talking about ?” Before I can answer, I hear the cough of a bullet, and see the guard closest to Nabatov dance a strange jog and fall to the floor. Two more coughs and the other two follow suit . “He’s talking about me,” says the blonde in the red dress as she enters the room from the hall . Her silenced pistol is aimed squarely at Cassie’s head .

Chapter Two Hundred Fifteen 5 8. CASSANDRA “Anna!” Nabatov cries. “What are you doing ?!” The woman in the red dress stalks toward me. Her face isn’t the cool, flawless mask it was in her video the night I joined the Chase. Now it’s twisted with rage . There’s also a good-sized goose egg and a clot of dried blood on the left side of her jaw . I rise from my chair. Tricia moves to do the same beside me, but I stop her with a hand on the shoulder . “Don’t,” I say. “Leave this to me .” “You will pay for these men,” Nabatov says, waving at the men lying in pools of blood on the floor. “They do not come cheap .” “Shut up if you want to walk out of here,” Anna says without a trace of emotion .

Carson glares at her . “I knew I should have gone for your throat,” he snarls . Without taking her eyes off me, Anna points the gun at him . “I have even less reason to keep you alive, Mr. Drake,” she says. “That goes for the rest of you, as well .” We lock eyes and I can see the madness there. She was good at hiding it, but whatever circumstances have changed the situation, she’s a complete wild card now . “This is what I was trying to tell you,” Carson says to Nabatov. “Anna here is the reason the quarries disappear after the Chase. She kills them !” My heart skips a beat, but I don’t let it show on my face. That’s right, blondie, keep looking right at me. You don’t need to be pointing that gun anywhere else . “Let me guess,” I say. “After you kill them, you steal their winnings .” “Stupid sow,” she chuckles. “Money means

nothing. Power is everything .” “Money is power .” She smiles without humor. Those cold, dead eyes are starting to scare me as she gets closer . “Power is power, sow. It is a gift from Satan. It’s why we offer him the desecrated virgin when the summer sun is at its hottest .” Suddenly my mind is whirling, extrapolating from what she just said. It’s crazy, but it explains so much . “Let me guess,” I say. “You’re the one who suggested the Chase to Nabatov in the first place .” Nabatov looks down at the bodies of his henchman, then back at Anna . “Is what she says true, Anna? Did you have me start this so you could kill these women? Are you insane ?” “What difference does it make to you?” she says. “You made a fortune from it. It doesn’t have to end. We just need to eliminate these people .” She slides a hand around my upper arm and places

the barrel of the silencer against my temple . “This one is coming with me,” she says. “The rest I will leave for you, Bogdan. Do with them what you will. My time grows short .” “I will not be a part of this!” Nabatov shouts . “Very well,” she says, pulling the barrel from my scalp and aiming it at him. Two more coughs and Maksim’s uncle is dead on the floor . That was exactly the distraction I needed . I aim directly for the enormous bruise on her jaw and drive the side of my head into it. The sound it makes is like two bowling balls colliding . She stumbles backwards but keeps the gun pointed forward. She squeezes off two more rounds into the room, but the only thing they hit is the far wall, thank God . Before I know what’s happening, Carson is rushing toward her. I grab her gun hand just as he leaps in the air and comes crashing down with a diagonal blow right into her skull . What the hell was that? Obviously Carson is still keeping a few secrets from me .

I flip Anna backwards with a wristlock that sends her sailing to the floor. Her head connects with the hard oak and she lies there, motionless. Two massive head traumas have left her with a concussion . Carson and I stand there, breathing heavily . “That bruise on her jaw?” he says. “That was me .” “Yeah?” I huff. “And what was with that flying punch ?” He shrugs . “I got some skills,” he says. “No biggie .” Neither of us sees Anna move until it’s too late. She grabs the gun and sits up on the floor, angling the barrel toward Carson’s chest . Suddenly my mind fills with images of him: the gawky teen who kissed me for the first time under the bleachers, the dashing playboy who restarted my heart for me when I didn’t even know that it had stopped . If I lose him, I’ll die myself. I can’t let that happen . I react without thinking, grabbing him and pivoting

my weight to throw him out of the line of fire. My back is now to Anna, shielding Carson from the gun . Three loud coughs split the air . No ricochet cracks, which means they all struck flesh . I hear a faint thump . My heart races as I grip Carson tighter than I ever have before. Which of us is hit ? “Cassie!” He’s groping me with both hands. “Are you all right ?” I open my eyes, and realize I’ve been groping him. No bullet holes . “I’m fine,” I breathe. “But what …?” We both turn to see Anna’s prone body on the floor, bleeding out from three exit wounds in the front of her sundress. Her eyes are open, staring lifelessly at the ceiling . Behind her stands Tricia, eyes wide, chest heaving. She’s still in the shooter’s stance . “This was… on the floor,” she breathes, her eyes

round and unblinking. “One of these guys… he dropped it… when he got… y’know. Shot .” She goggles at Anna’s body. “Did I do that ?” I grab her in a fierce hug as tight as the one I used on Carson . “You sure did, babe,” I whisper in her ear. “You saved all of us. You’re a hero .” Carson joins us. We stand there, holding each other, trying to process what the hell just happened . After several moments, we look up to see Maksim standing across the room, staring at us. Tears are streaming down his face . I smile weakly and hold out an arm to him . “Room for one more,” I say . He bolts across the room and grabs the three of us in a vise grip. We stand that way for a long time .

Chapter Two Hundred Sixteen 5 9. CASSANDRA Carson and I don’t speak on the ride up in the elevator, which is okay. There’s not a lot left to say right now, really . We waited at the Brighton Beach house until the Company cleanup team arrived. My father was more than happy to dispatch them, once I’d explained what happened to us . I’ve done this many times in my career, so it’s second nature to me. For the others… well, they had a lot of processing to do. You can’t go through something like that and not be fundamentally changed by it, even if you know in your heart that you only did what you had to do . Dad assured me that the Company wouldn’t have a problem with two players like Bogdan and Anna being taken off the board. Minimal questions. All he asked in return for helping me was that I visit him and Mom in Virginia next week to talk about

my life . I’m not sure that’s a better fate than what Anna had in store for me, if I’m being honest . A blue light inside the elevator glows as we reach the top floor. Then the doors open, and I forget to breathe for a full ten seconds . It’s the most spectacular apartment I’ve ever seen. The floor-to-ceiling windows, the marble floors, the crystal light fixtures hanging from the twelve-foot ceilings. The art on the walls: Picasso, Matisse, Pollock, Warhol . “It’s stunning,” I say. It’s the only word I can think of . Carson smiles. “Would you like a tour ?” “Now? Don’t be stupid .” I reach down and grab the hem of my dress, pulling it up and over my head in a single movement. Then I jump onto him and wrap my limbs around his body like a four-armed octopus, my heart pounding . My mouth is mashed against his so hard it’s almost painful .

He grabs hold of my back and reciprocates, twisting his fingers into my hair . “I was so scared,” he breathes in my ear. “When I realized what was happening. And then I saw Anna, what she was going to do …” “Shhhh. It’s over .” “I couldn’t lose you. Not again. I would have given everything I had not to .” “I know,” I whisper . He carries me down the opulent hallway into a bedroom that’s easily three times the size of my apartment. He drops me gently on the bed before ripping off his shirt and sliding off his shorts . Our lovemaking is urgent. Not like the night at the Regent; that was pure desire. This is something else, something deeper. Assuring each other that we’re still here. That everything is okay. That we’re together . Carson reaches behind me and unclasps my bra, freeing my breasts to brush against the skin of his chest. I don’t ever want to get used to that feeling of his skin on mine; I want it always to be as new and thrilling as it is now .

I pull off my own panties and lie back on the bed, pulling him down on top of me . “Carson,” I moan as his lips find my neck . “I love you, Cassie,” he whispers in my ear . Hot tears squirt from the corner of my eyes. I never though I could ever feel like this. I never understood what life could be like. A whole new world is opening for me . “I love you, Carson,” I whisper back. “God, I love you so much .” With the words comes a new urgency. He presses his body hard into mine, and I open my legs wide for him. No foreplay, no athletic sex games, no furious passion . Just the unyielding need to become one . I hold my breath as his hard shaft enters me. His strokes are slow at first, our bodies still gripped together, our mouths and tongues locked on each other. Neither of us wants to let go, even for a moment . Then the urgency builds, and his thrusts become deeper. We disengage from kissing and I place my

chin on his shoulder. Soon he’s driving harder, faster. I wrap my arms tight around his neck and my legs around his waist, matching each stroke with a lift of my own . “I love you,” I pant as my orgasm builds. “I love you I love you I love you I love you .” I grit my teeth as the pleasure wave crashes into me, lifting me into a stratosphere where Carson and I float together, melded into one, drifting toward infinity . We lie together like that, still in each other’s grip, for several long moments. It wasn’t our usual gymnastics, but we’re both spent as if it was. Our breathing finally slows and we separate, lying face to face . His gray eyes scan me all over, as if checking for damages . “I’ve never said those words to anyone,” I say. I know his answer can’t be the same, but I want him to understand . “Neither have I,” he says . My eyes go round .

“Really?” I ask. The words sound childlike to my own ears . “Really. I won’t lie, Cass – I’ve taken a lot of women to bed. But I’ve never been in love. Unless you count our time in high school .” “I don’t know if we understood what love was back then,” I say. “But I do now. It’s having someone who sees you for who you really are, and wants you, not in spite of it, but because of it .” He kisses my ear . “That’s exactly how I feel,” he says. “You know who I really am, not the face I put on for the world .” We lie there in silence for a while . “I’ve never had anyone to worry about me,” I say. “Let alone someone willing to give up billions of dollars for me. It’s still processing .” “Don’t forget,” he says. “I punched a girl for you, too. Twice. That’s not something I go around doing for just anyone .” I snort a giggle. “High five on that one, babe .”

We kiss slowly, leisurely . “There’s something I need to ask you,” I say after a while. “Something really important .” I look around the room. It makes the suite at the Regent on our first night together look like a Motel 6. He props himself on an elbow and looks me in the eye . “Of course,” he says. “Anything .” “Can I move in here?” I ask. “Because, seriously, babe, this place is just fucking sick . ”

Chapter Two Hundred Seventeen 6 0. CARSON “I can’t believe we’re still arguing about this,” I say . “We’re not arguing,” says Cassie. “I’m telling you how it is .” I sip my double espresso to keep from saying something I’ll regret. Cassie takes this as me acknowledging her win and flashes me a smug grin . Tricia wanders over with a tray of ice cold treats and sits down. A handful of customers are sitting inside, escaping the rain on a dreary September morning . “Having you two as friends is like living in a sitcom,” she says, sitting down. “The Billionaire and the Bitch. I should pitch it to Netflix .” “See?” I say. “Even Tricia thinks you should let me put up the cash for your stake in Tricialicious .”

“No, I don’t,” says Tricia. “Why would I want you as a silent partner in my business? You’d eat all the profits .” Cassie’s grin gets even smugger . “Look, I told you I’ve found a better option,” she says. “One that’s going to work out for everyone .” “Really?” I say, reaching for a brownie . Tricia slaps my hand away. “Leave it alone, fatty. It’s not for you .” I pull my hand back and give her my most wounded look . “Who could possibly deserve this more than me ?” “My new partner,” says Cassie . At that moment, the door on the bell clangs. Maks walks into the shop, shaking the rain from his umbrella . “Hey, comrade,” says Tricia . She yanks him to her and plants an aggressive kiss on his mouth. His smile when she finally disengages is heartwarming. I’ve never seen the guy so happy before .

“That is my kind of hello,” he says as he sits down . “Play your cards right and you’ll get a ‘how are ya’ later, too,” Tricia purrs . His cheeks blossom with color . “All right,” says Cassie. “Before you two get a room – did you bring it ?” Maksim grins and reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket . “Right here,” he says, handing an envelope to Cassie . She opens it and pulls out a long piece of paper. A quick scan and she’s all smiles. She reaches a hand out to Maks, who takes it . “A pleasure doing business with you, partner,” she says . “I look forward to doing the work with you,” he replies . My eyes dart from one to the other and back again. Tricia pushes the other brownie in front of Maks . “What just happened?” I ask .

Cassie waves a hand in Maks’ direction . “Meet my new partner .” I open my mouth, then close it again. Then open it again . “What?” I say . “No point in going to Tate Capital when I know someone who’s got the full $11 million,” says Cassie. “And not just someone – someone who gets me and knows how I work .” Maks looks at me and shrugs . “I will make three times my money back,” he says . “Since when do you have money?” I ask . “Well,” he says. “Maybe I am not abstainly rich …” Cassie winces. “I think you mean obscenely .” “Yes, what she says. But I have a trust fund, tovarishch . And I am looking to be the investment tycoon, yes ?” I fold my arms across my chest and look Cassie in the eye .

“So you’ll take his money but not mine ?” “I don’t sleep with him,” she says . Tricia gives her an appraising look . “You better not, ho,” she warns with an exaggerated snap of her fingers . I shake my head and chuckle. Just another of the compromises I’ll have to make to keep Cassie in my life. Sometimes she drives me up the wall, but I’ll take it over living without her any day. I honestly don’t think I could live without her . At least she didn’t drag me to meet her parents last month. I’ve still got a little time to prepare for that . “Whatever,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’ll just wait till Tricialicious goes public and then buy the controlling interest. I’ll end up running the show in the end .” “Go right ahead, sucker,” says Tricia. “Your money’s as green as anyone else’s. We’ll be retired and rich, so what do we care ?” We all bust up over that one. After the laughter dies down, the three of them go over some of the details of the plan, particularly the construction schedule,

now that fall is around the corner. I watch them with a smile on my face and in my heart . My mind drifts back just a couple of months, to standing on a cliff in the Alps, thinking I was somehow going to find the meaning of life by jumping off. Now I realize how utterly ridiculous that was . This is the meaning of life right here, in a little ice cream shop in Midtown. With these crazy, frustrating, wonderful people. How could I supposedly be so smart and yet not get that for so long ? Cassie runs a hand along my arm and leans close . “Penny for your thoughts,” she says. Then she holds up Maksim’s check. “I can afford it, I’ve got this .” I smile and kiss her temple. The same one Anna held her gun against . “I was just thinking we should go to Italy soon,” I say. “I think we’ve kept David waiting long enough, don’t you ?”

218

EPILOGUE: CASSIE F our Years Later I stand at the edge of a cliff, looking down at the 1,500-foot drop just beyond my toes. Far below is an outcropping of jagged granite pointing toward the sky, like fingers from the earth reaching up to the heavens . In the distance is Lake Garda, the summer sunlight dappling off its turquoise surface as the Alps stand sentinel behind it. There’s not a cloud in the sky, not a breath of wind . Carson wraps his arms around my waist from behind . “What do you think?” he whispers in my ear . I smile at his touch, the warmth of his embrace, the feel of his beard scruff against my cheek . “I think you were a fucking idiot,” I sigh .

He chuckles. “Don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel .” I turn inside the circle of his arms to face him, wrapping my own arms around his waist. In the afternoon light, his gray eyes are the same pale shade as the stone fingers on the valley floor below . “A single miscalculation and you would have been bug splatter on the side of the mountain,” I say. “Or you could have hit the water at the wrong angle and broken your neck. You would have been the world’s richest quadriplegic .” He winces at my words . “You’re absolutely right,” he says. “Either of those things was very possible .” “That’s not why you were an idiot, though .” “Oh, good. Thanks for clearing that up .” I grin. “Hey, I was no better back in those days. A redhead disguising herself as a Middle Eastern woman and hanging out with terrorists is quite a bit stupider than jumping off a cliff in a flying suit .” Carson throws his head back and laughs. I chuckle

at the memory, too. It’s been long enough that I can do that . “Then I’m afraid I don’t understand your point,” he says. “Why was I an idiot ?” “Because,” I say, hugging him tight and pressing my face against his chiseled chest. “There was so much more you could have been doing with your time and your brain and your money .” “You mean like when you and I came that first time a few years ago ?” “Exactly. That was incredible. A private tour of David in the Galleria d’Accademia, vineyards in Tuscany, shopping in Milan, hiking the cliffs of Cinque Terre …” The memories of that month still give me goosebumps to this day, even after all the times we’ve been back to Italy. We’ve tried on the entire boot, from here in the north all the way to the toe and beyond to Sicily. But that first trip was magical . We walk hand-in-hand back toward our waiting Aston Martin roadster. Carson rented it specifically for the sensation that we were in a James Bond movie as we drove the winding road through the

mountains. He won’t admit it to me – the last thing he wants is a lecture on what a real secret agent’s life is like – but I know it’s true . It’s one of the many reasons I love him – sometimes he’s just a big kid. With a really expensive toy box . “In my defense, I was pretty lost in those days,” he says, opening the passenger door for me. “I thought I was bored; that I needed excitement to make my life worthwhile .” He slides in behind the wheel and sparks the Aston’s savage twelve-cylinder engine to life . I raise an eyebrow . “And that’s changed how , Mr. Bond ?” Carson laughs as he pulls away from the trailhead parking lot and onto the winding road that will take us back down to Bardolino and the villa we’ve booked for the wedding . “I met you,” he says, having to raise his voice over the sound of the engine and the air rushing into the cockpit of the convertible. “That was when I learned what life is really about .”

Awww. I want to squeeze his hand, but it’s busy working the gearshift. So I figure I might as well take advantage of the opening he’s given me to fish for a compliment or two . “And what, exactly, would that be?” I ask . He grins . “Sex with virgins .” Oh, you little … I smack his rock-hard shoulder . “Try again, Romeo,” I say. “And bear in mind that we’re just up the street from fair Verona .” “Two households, both alike in dignity,” Carson says, reciting the opening lines of Romeo & Juliet . Show-off. “In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, from ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean .” “Exactly. So if you don’t want any grudges or mutinies or civil blood, I suggest you come up with a better answer .” He gears down in an attempt to keep me from losing my headscarf as we round a hairpin curve. It

works, allowing me to maintain my Grace Kelly vibe for a little while longer . “Life,” he says, “is really about connection. That indescribable feeling you get when you realize that you’ve found the missing part of you that you didn’t even know you were looking for. Sharing your life and your heart and your experiences with that person .” Geez, even after all this time, he can still make my heart swell up. I take the silly scarf off my head – it’s not going to do any good for my crazy, curly mop – and dab at the corner of my eyes . “Not bad, eh?” he asks . I sniffle. “Been practicing that one, have you ?” We reach a straightaway and he takes his hand off the gearshift to squeeze mine . “I just opened my mouth and that’s what came out,” he says. “That tends to happen when I’m with you. You bring out the best in me .” His hand slides down the hem of my dress and back up the bare thigh underneath . “And the worst,” he says with a grin .

“I’ll be the judge of which is which,” I say, opening my legs a bit to accommodate his touch . He teases me for a couple of minutes, until he can’t avoid gearing down any longer. The road gets steeper the closer we get to the village, so I pout a bit and close my legs again . “Can I have a rain check?” he asks with just the right amount of begging in his tone . “If you play your cards right,” I say. “Maybe I’ll practice my own manual shifting with you later .” He flashes me a look that combines lust and theatrical surprise, eliciting a hearty giggle from me . *** L ater, in Bardolino, we sit at our table at a little café across from the marina. It’s a tiny place, downscale, but that’s why we love it. It has an unbeatable view of the water, delicious food and wonderful staff . Carson and I have both learned over the years that value doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with cost. My oversized D&G knockoff sunglasses, for example, were twenty-four dollars at the airport in

Milan. His deck shoes were thirty-five dollars at a shop up the street from here. And we have to get used to living on less . I kick off my sandals and run my bare foot along the muscles of his calves under the table . “So,” I say. “Ready for the wedding ?” He takes a sip of his after-lunch grappa. He’s developed a taste for it; I’d sooner drink kerosene myself . “Not really that much to it,” he says. “But it’s always easier for guys. Throw on a tux and show up. How about you ?” I smile, thinking about the gorgeous dress I’ll be wearing tomorrow. Then I sigh, because it reminds me of the night Carson bought me that plumcolored Oscar De La Renta gown that eventually ended up on the floor of our suite at the Regent Hotel . God, what a crazy time that was. Then again, it was that crazy time that brought us together. Fate must have been tripping on LSD when it came up with that plan . “I can’t wait,” I say. “The planner has everything

under control. Flowers, doves, orchestra, meal. I have to admit, having money makes it a lot easier to put on a wedding .” Carson raises his glass in a toast . “Enjoy it while it lasts,” he says . I frown and return the salute with my glass of Orvieto . “I’m going to miss being obscenely rich,” I sigh . *** “W ell, would you look at that?” I say. “Another hill. Better gear down .” “Uh-huh. Yeah, gear down. Just like that .” “How many speeds are there on an Aston Martin, again ?” “Suh-six .” “Six. Plus reverse. That’s back this way, right ?” “Right,” he moans. “Oh yeah, that’s perfect .” Our pool is in the shadow of the villa, so it stays cool through most of the day. Which is good,

because we’re both about as overheated as you can get . Carson floats on his back in the shallow end while I practice my “shifting” on him. I love watching his face twist and his mouth drop open as I go through each stroke. Meanwhile, his hand is under the water, working his fingers in and out of my opening in time with each of my shifts . Luckily, we’re still obscenely rich for the next few days, which means this place is gated and locked, and we can prance around as naked as the day we were born without fear of being disturbed . We’ve developed a rhythm during our years together, one that puts us in sync with each other’s movements and allows us to anticipate where the other is on the pleasure scale. Like right now – I know instinctively that Carson can’t take much more of this without going further, and he knows I’m on the verge of my first orgasm . He slides himself out of my hand and turns over in the water, leaving me the one lying on my back. He quickly manipulates his way between my legs, lifting them up onto his submerged shoulders. His eyes gleam and he flashes me a cocky grin as he wades his way ever closer to my slit .

The sun sizzles on my face and breasts as his tongue darts in and out, combining to take me out of myself and onto a floating wave of sheer ecstasy. I entwine my fingers into Carson’s hands, gripping them tightly as I float closer and closer to the moment of release . So many times he’s done this to me, and each time is just as good as that first night in New York. As the pressure of his tongue gets stronger, my orgasm builds, relentless as a storm, until I can’t hold back any longer and I give in to the power of it . In my spasms, my hands release his and slap at the surface of the water, sending up splashes right into Carson’s face. It has no effect on the evil grin there . As my convulsions slow and the sensations ebb away, I float forward and wrap my arms around Carson’s neck. We bob there together for several moments, breathing in time with each other, feeling the delicious cool on our bodies, in stark contrast with the baking sun on our heads . When I have control of myself again, I let go of him and turn to face the side of the pool. I kick myself forward and reach out, grabbing the rungs of the ladder .

“Um,” he says. “Excuse me? Where are you going ?” I pull myself up two rungs and stop, bending slightly at the waist. As I do, I drop a smoldering look over my shoulder . “Sorry,” I say. “I just left my scarf up on that top shelf. Do you think you could help me reach it ?” Carson’s eyes light up and he crosses the gap between us in two seconds, despite having to wade through thigh-deep water. He glides up behind me and suddenly the heat of his erection is pressing against my bare ass . “Of course,” he breathes into my ear. “But we’d better hurry. Don’t want someone to walk into the coatroom and get the wrong impression .” “No,” I sigh as he slides the tip of his shaft between my lips, back and forth, front to back, back to front. “A girl could get a reputation that way .” He covers my shoulders with kisses as I grind my hips in time with his movements. His hands reach up and gently massage my wet breasts and rockhard nipples . “I think it’s just a bit too high for me,” I groan .

“No problem,” he pants. “Let me get that for you .” He takes a step forward and upwards, finally thrusting his stiff cock into my slick entrance. I shudder with pleasure as it penetrates deep inside me . I steady myself with the railings as Carson grabs my ass with both hands and I can tell he’s barely able to control himself. His powerful hands grip me tight and pull me toward him as he thrusts harder, faster. My second orgasm begins to radiate upwards from my core even as I feel his building inside me . “Cassie,” he rasps in my ear, giving voice to his urgent need. I can’t help myself – I let go of the railings and drop forward, hands on the pool deck, allowing his cock to go as deep as possible inside me. His hips move so fast and hard that it all blurs into a sprint of orgasmic delight, until I finally let out a cry that startles the birds in the copse of beech trees next to the pool into flight . Carson explodes inside me in a wave of heat and pressure that sets me off one last time, wracking my body with shudders of passion and leaving me a shaking mess. If it weren’t for his hands holding my hips, I’d simply collapse in a heap on the pool deck .

He leans forward, still buried deep inside me, panting in my ear. His chest is like a bellow against my back, expanding and contracting. His arms are wrapped around me like he’s holding on for dear life . “How is it we keep getting better at this?” I moan, trying to catch my own breath . “Practice makes perfect,” he pants . *** T he cool shower was glorious, and the nap was even better. But alas, nothing lasts forever . “Honey,” I say, rolling over onto my back and stretching. “You need to feed me or I’ll fade away .” Carson’s already bringing a tray of fruit and cheese into the bedroom. Apparently he can read my mind while I’m asleep, too. He’s even dressed, which is more than I can say for myself . He hands me a small plate of provolone, gorgonzola and grapes. I snatch it away and dig in . “You’re the bestest billionaire in the whole world,” I coo .

“For a little while longer, anyway,” he sighs . I smile and shake my head . “We’ll still be able to afford cheese and grapes,” I say. “Just not in a $50,000-a-night villa .” “Probably supermarket cheese,” he mumbles morosely . I stick out my tongue, which is probably pretty gross from his perspective, given that it’s covered in green-veined cheese . Carson glances at his Rolex. “Just about time to get ready for cocktail hour,” he says . I stretch one more time, giving him an unobstructed view of my boobs. He smiles appreciatively . “All right,” I say. “I’ll get dressed if I absolutely have to .” As I rise from the bed, the electronic chime of the intercom system goes off. I reach over and hit the “talk” button on the tablet next to the night table . “Yes?” A cold male voice with a thick Russian accent fills the room .

“We have your son,” says the voice. “If you ever want to see him again, I suggest you let us in .” *** I roll my eyes. “Just a second, Maks .” My finger taps the “unlock gate” button and I continue into the en suite bathroom and walk-in closet . “I hope they fed Leo,” Carson says absently. “He’ll go down for his nap more easily if he’s had a snack .” I pull on a camisole and a pair of capris before stepping into my sandals . “You know who you’re talking about, right?” I say, running a brush through the briar patch of my hair. “I didn’t come up with the name ‘Tricialicious’ for nothing .” He kisses my neck as we step out of the master suite and head for the parlor one floor below . “I just hope Maks didn’t try to set him up with any girls,” he says .

My heart sings as I see the familiar strawberry blond mop on Leo’s head. He’s holding Tricia’s hand, until he sees me: then he drops her like a hot potato and makes a beeline for the base of the stairs . “Mommy!” I scoop him up in my arms and hug him fiercely. It’s only been a handful of hours, but it might as well have been years. He wraps a pudgy arm around my neck and lays a wet kiss on my cheek . “My mommy,” he says absently, looking around the expansive room from the elevated perspective of my arms . Carson tousles his hair and gives him a kiss on the cheek . “Hey buddy, did you have fun today ?” “Uh-huh. I saw a clown .” “Really?” I raise my eyebrows. “Where did you see one of those ?” Tricia grins, and her own brows go up . “Down by the marina,” she says brightly. “He was

rummaging through the garbage outside the bar and started talking to us .” “Ohhh!” I say, beaming at Leo. “And did he smell funny, too ?” “Yup,” Leo says, barely able to contain his boredom. I set him down and he trots over to his MathMat and starts solving the equations it electronically dictates . Carson heads to the antique bar that takes up a good chunk of the wall by the stairs . “What can I get you guys ?” “Mojito,” says Tricia. “By which I mean a bottle of rum and a lime .” “What about the mint?” I ask . “Okay, throw in a stick of gum .” I smile sympathetically . “Everything is going to be fine,” I say, sitting down beside her on the sofa. “All we have to do tomorrow is get you dressed and get you to the church. Sophia is taking care of everything else .” “What about you, Maks?” Carson calls from the

bar . “Nothing, thanks .” He’s looking a little green. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was hung over, but his bachelor party was weeks ago. Carson took him and the rest of the groomsmen to the Boom Boom Room . “Everything all right, buddy?” Carson asks . “He’s worried about his family tomorrow,” says Tricia. “I keep telling him they can’t be worse than my clan. My cousins make the guys from Jersey Shore look like Mensa members. I’m pretty sure Leo could beat their SAT scores .” “What’s SAT?” Leo says from his MathMat . “Nothing you have to worry about for a few years,” I say . Although, judging by his progress, not much more than a few years. He’s already figuring out how to read by watching the phonetics skits on Sesame Street. He may have inherited my red hair, but he got his father’s gray eyes and gifted intellect . Too bad he also inherited my own father’s overly serious disposition. But we’re working on that .

Maks smiles, but it seems a bit forced . “Maybe I am overthinking,” he says. “I just don’t want it to be – awkward ?” He looks at Tricia. “Is that the right word ?” She gives him the thumbs up . “Perfect, babe,” she says, taking a sip of the mojito Carson hands her. “We’ll have you saying those vows right yet. Although I still have nightmares about you telling the priest that ‘I am taking this woman to be awfully wet and wife .’” Carson takes a seat next to Maks and chucks him on the shoulder . “It’s one day of your life,” he says. “It’ll be over before you know it .” “Easy for you to be saying,” Maks says glumly. “You eloped .” I smile at the memory. It was just the two of us, in a little church in Siena. Our folks weren’t overjoyed, but we had a big party when we got home and that helped smooth things over with them. Well, with our moms, anyway. Dad was put out. Of course .

But he’s coming around. It’s pretty hard to argue with a billionaire son-in-law who once offered to give up his entire fortune for your daughter . Of course, he probably wouldn’t agree with what we’re about to do. But it’s not his decision to make. It’s ours . “Don’t worry,” says Tricia. “If anything goes wrong, we’ll just blame Cassie and Carson. They’re the ones who paid for everyone to fly here first class and stay at the resort .” She lays her head on my shoulder and snuggles in. I put my cheek on top of her head and we both stretch our legs onto the priceless eighteenth century coffee table. When Leo sees this, he ambles over and crawls up, stretching out across both our laps . “I want your life,” Tricia sighs, stroking Leo’s head . Be careful what you wish for . Carson and Maks sit down in the armchairs across from us . “I know this might not be the right time,” Carson says. “But have you given any thought about what

you’re going to do when we go public ?” Tricialicious is on the verge of launching its initial public offering of shares in a few months. It’s been a lot of work over the past few years, but we managed to exceed our every goal. And I’m proud to say we did it without a single penny of Carson’s fortune . Our best estimates predict Tricia, Maksim and I will be able to sell our one-third shares for $29.3 million each, or $88 million total. That’s about eight times our initial investment. I’ll be honest – sometimes the thought that I was able to do it all myself makes me so proud I want to cry . Or at the very least phone up my dad and lord it over him . “Oh, we’re cashing in,” says Tricia . “Yes,” says Maksim. “No ifs, ands or asses .” Carson snorts a laugh. Tricia and I manage to keep ours under wraps . Maks sighs. “What this time ?” “It’s ‘buts,’” Carson says with a sympathetic look .

“Butts, asses,” Maks grouses. “What is the difference ?” I give him a reassuring smile. “It’s perfectly fine, Maks,” I say. “So you’re ready to walk away with sixty million bucks ?” “It is more than enough for us,” he says. “Even now that I have no trust fund .” Maks lost that money last year when the feds finally cracked down on his family. His father managed to avoid jail, but they were left virtually penniless after all the fines were paid and the illegal assets were confiscated . Now they all come to him for money, which I know makes him as proud as my situation makes me . Of course, he didn’t have to spend any of his own money for years. Carson always picked up the tab. Maybe that was a good thing – Maks never learned how to be greedy . “I still can’t comprehend any of it,” says Tricia. “My whole life I couldn’t afford anything, then I meet you people and suddenly I’m living this ridiculous lifestyle. It’s crazy. Like my grandpa used to say, I don’t know whether to shit or go blind .”

“Don’t say shit,” Leo murmurs sleepily in our laps, prompting the two of us to clamp our lips between our teeth to keep from bellowing laughter . “Besides,” Tricia says after we calm down. “Our best friends are still obscenely rich .” Carson and I exchange a glance . “Actually,” I say, “we were wondering if we could talk to you two about that .” *** “T rish, if you don’t close your mouth soon, a bug is going to crawl in .” Her jaw has been hanging open for a full minute, since before I took Leo to his bed for his nap. Maksim’s mouth is closed, but his eyes look like they’re trying to bid adieu to his skull and float off into orbit . Carson squeezes my hand as I sit next to him . “Say something,” he urges them. “Even if it’s telling us to go pound sand up our asses. I mean butts .” “You’re not serious,” Tricia breathes. “This is a

joke .” “No joke,” I say. “If you two are up for the trade, we’ll make it happen .” “But – but it’s not making sense,” says Maks. “Nobody trades $3 billion for $90 million. That is like giving someone your precious Ferrari and taking their Smart Car .” Carson and I look at each other . “Never thought of it that way,” he says with a grin . Tricia leans forward on the sofa and takes my hands in hers . “Why?” she asks. “Why give it away? And to us , of all people ?” I squeeze her hands and smile. Sometimes I love her so much, it hurts. If God had asked me to design the perfect sister, it would have been her . “Simple,” I say. “Because we do want to give it away, and you two are the best people to do that for us. We want you to oversee a charitable foundation that distributes the majority of the fortune. How much you decide to give is up to you .

“After all,” I smile, “one of us has to still be obscenely rich .” Carson claps Maks on the back . “That means the penthouse is yours,” he says. “But you still can’t smoke cigars in the study. Sorry .” Maks smiles absently. He looks like someone waiting for the alarm buzzer to go off and wake them up . “You didn’t answer my question,” says Tricia. “Why us ? Why not someone else who would be better at it? Neither of us has even been to college .” I glance at Carson. It’s his money, and it was his idea. He should be the one to explain it . “Well,” he says. “As to why we chose you, it’s simple. It’s not because we consider you family – you already know that much. It’s because you two are the kindest people we know .” He looks at Maks. “I’ve never met someone like you, man. You never judge, ever. You’re kind and accepting to everyone. You don’t have a mean bone in your body. Sometimes you remind me of Leo that way .”

I see tears shimmer in Maksim’s eyes, and next thing I know, I’m fighting my own . “Thank you, brat ,” he breathes, using the Russian word for brother. “That is greatest compliment I ever have .” “And you ,” I say, looking Tricia in the eyes. “You have a way of looking at things that cuts straight through the bullshit and gets right to the heart of the matter. I wouldn’t be where I am today without you .” Carson and I exchange a glance . “We wouldn’t be where we are without you,” he says. “If you can help others the way you helped us? We couldn’t ask any better use for the money .” The two of them look at each other and link their hands. Tears are flowing freely everywhere now . Tricia wipes at her eyes with the heels of her palms . “Good thing you got this out of the way tonight, bitch,” she rasps. “It’d be just like you to ruin my make-up on my wedding day .” Carson and I simultaneously position ourselves on

either side of them on the sofa, wrapping our arms around their shoulders. We were prepared for this . “So,” I say. “Is that a yes ?” They look at each other and back at us . “Yes,” says Maksim. “I mean yes, it is yes .” “And you know I’ll be calling you every five minutes asking you what to do,” Tricia snuffles . I smile. “Wouldn’t have it any other way .” “But wait,” she says, finally rummaging a tissue out of her purse. “What are you guys going to do? With the $90 million, I mean ?” She looks at Carson. “You’re already retired, you lazy ass. What are you going to do, just downsize ?” We exchange another glance . “Well,” I say. “Therein lies a tale .” *** “Y our mouth is hanging open again,” I tell Tricia. “It’s getting a little old .” “You’re the one who keeps kicking my feet out

from under me,” she breathes. “Are you serious ? ” “Very,” says Carson . “But why?” Maks asks, clearly baffled . “I was blessed for a long time,” says Carson. “And when I found Cassie, I finally understood what the term ‘embarrassment of riches’ meant .” Maks opens his mouth and Tricia holds up a hand . “It means he has more than he deserves. Go on .” “I realized when we got together that I had wasted a good portion of my time, abilities and fortune,” says Carson. “I don’t know if I believe in a god, but I do know that if there is one, he really put me at the front of the line .” He looks at me . “And when I learned more about Cassie’s life, I realized what a selfish shit I’d been. There are so many people in the world with real problems .” “That’s where the idea to give away his fortune came from,” I say . Tricia nods. “Okay, I get that. But what about this other crazy scheme ?”

Carson smiles and shakes his head . “Maybe it is crazy,” he says. “But we have to try. There are a lot of women – and girls – in this world who are being bought and sold as possessions. That’s wrong. And I, of all people, have a lot to atone for in that department .” I take his hand. We’ve had a lot of long talks about this. We’re both ashamed of ever getting involved in the Chase – each for different reasons, of course, but both for lowering ourselves. Me for money and Carson for thrills . But what we saw that day in Brighton Beach, with Bogdan and Anna… no one should ever have to deal with people like that. But thousands of women and girls around the world have to, every single day of the year . “We’ve got a unique combination of resources,” I say. “We have an obligation to use them to help those who can’t help themselves .” “It’s a tall order,” says Maksim . The rest of us gape at him . “Maks!” Tricia cries. “You got it right !”

He beams at us like a kid who brings home an A+ test to his parents . “You’re right, buddy,” says Carson. “But we have to start somewhere .” Tricia’s tears are flowing freely again now, and I’m barely keeping mine in check. This might just be the most emotional moment of my life outside of Leo’s birth . “You guys are my heroes,” she sobs . That’s it; the dam’s breaking again . “What do you mean?” I say. “You saved both our lives that day! And Maks risked his life to try to save mine !” Jesus, now we’re all blubbering. We sit there like that for a while, laughing, crying, hugging . Finally, we get ourselves under control, outside of the occasional snuffle . “All right,” she says. “Now that the fucking love-in is over, let’s eat .” We lose it all over again, and laugh so long and hard that we wake Leo from his nap, and he starts

to wail from his bedroom at the noise . *** T he sun has begun to go down in a ball of fire by the time they come around to collect the dishes from the banquet. Leo is squirming in my lap at the head table; he’s normally an easy kid to keep entertained, but a wedding where he’s surrounded by Russian women constantly pinching his cheeks has pushed his patience to its limit . I sneak into my purse and pull out a small Rubik’s cube, which he snags greedily and takes with him under the tablecloth. It should keep him occupied for an hour at least – or until he solves it, whichever comes first . Out in the courtyard across from us, the string quartet is warming up for the dance to follow. I get the feeling Maksim’s family will enjoy it, but Tricia’s will be calling for a DJ within an hour . Carson reaches over and takes my hand, bringing it to his lips. His kiss is warm and familiar and still sends a tingle through me after all these years . “Penny for your thoughts,” I say . He frowns. “I don’t think we can afford that

anymore .” I slap his arm with my free hand and roll my eyes . “Are you ready for all this?” he asks softly. “It’s not going to be easy .” “Neither of us has ever done anything the easy way, my love .” He sighs. “I suppose you’re right. The curse of being blessed with an embarrassment of riches .” I squeeze his hand in mine, feeling the warmth there, the familiarity. I imagine I can feel the beat of his heart in time with mine . “Hey,” I say. “Guess what ?” “What?” “I’m still so happy it was you .” Tricia comes trotting over, radiant in her dress and rimmed with the blazing colors of the sunset against the rich green of the courtyard behind her. She yanks up the tablecloth, startling a shriek out of Leo. She picks him up and hauls him off, giggling with him like a loon, onto the dance floor, where she does her best to keep him moving to the

delicate strains of the chamber music . Carson leans in and kisses my cheek . “I’m still so happy it was us,” he says. “All of us .” We sit there in silence a long time, drinking in the beauty and reveling in the utter contentment of this perfect moment .

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