“Fuck!” Ryan Callander stared at the paper in his hand, shock ratcheting up the low-grade headache he’d had for the last two hours. Julia wanted a divorce. He concentrated on breathing—in, out, in, out—to stem his escalating panic.
Caleb popped his tousled dark head from a bedroom of the inner-city Auckland apartment they’d shared for the past five years. “What is it, man?” He glanced at Ryan and grimaced at the envelope. “Can’t the mail wait until we’ve had some sleep? This jetlag is kicking my butt.”
God, she couldn’t do this to him. It was a misunderstanding. She’d realize once he explained everything. “No, I have to go out.”
Caleb cursed and disappeared. He reappeared with a black T-shirt in his hands and yanked it over his head. “I’m coming with you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Ryan snapped.
“Your memory is still spotty. What kind of friend would let you loose in the big bad city alone?”
Ryan made a scoffing sound. “It’s Auckland. I remembered the location of our apartment. I can call a cab.”
“But you didn’t recall where the mystery woman lives—the one you kept muttering about in hospital.”
“I’m going to her now.” He’d recalled more about Julia than he’d let on to Caleb, their manager and the rest of the band. The only thing he couldn’t remember was how to contact her—that and her last name. Caleb had told Ryan he didn’t have a serious woman in New Zealand, not one he cared about. Ryan knew different, but the harder he’d tried to remember the more his head had ached.
“And if your mystery woman is a groupie?” Caleb asked, his expression making his opinion clear. French Letters’ groupies didn’t warrant midnight visits from the band. “Surely it can wait until we’ve at least caught a few hours of sleep. Besides, Seymour will have a hernia if you out yourself to a groupie. You can’t visit one without full makeup or a mask. Remember the terms of our contract.”
“You can sleep,” Ryan said. “I’m going out now.” He picked up his wallet and phone, both new since the police never recovered the ones stolen from him while the band had been playing in Europe.
“Wait, damn it.” Frustration shimmered in his friend’s voice, but Ryan didn’t slow. Running thumps echoed down the hall. “Fuck, Ryan. I’m coming with you. Give me a chance to put on my boots.”
Ryan slowed. “I’ll hail a cab. If you’re not outside in five minutes, I’m going without you.” A mixture of anxiety and anger pumped through his veins. Julia wasn’t any damn groupie. She’d already seen him without his makeup. His mouth curled to a grin as fragments of memories pushed past the fog in his mind. She’d seen him in a lot less and loved the view.
He checked the street and spied a cab. Hell, luck was with him. It was a sign. He waved, elated when the taxi halted beside him, and spoke to the driver, reading the address off the formal document before jumping into the back of the cab. He glanced back for his friend.
Caleb appeared in the doorway, glimpsed the cab and cursed a blue streak. He increased his pace to a sprint. Breathless, he flung himself into the back seat with Ryan. “I fuckin’ told you to wait.”
“I intended to wait.”
“Didn’t bloody look like it. Where are we going anyway?”
“Parnell.”
“Give me more. Who are we going to see?”
“Julia.” Ryan fell silent, waiting to see if Caleb remembered her.
“Wait, Julia? Not that blonde bird we both banged last summer?” Caleb’s smirk was a toothy one. It made Ryan itch to thump him.
“Watch your mouth.” Ryan concentrated on his clenched fists instead of the urge to beat up his friend. Caleb didn’t understand. If he realized, he wouldn’t talk that way. When Caleb opened his mouth to say something else, Ryan cut him off. “Watch what you say about Julia or I’ll tell your mother on you.”
“What are we? Five years old?” Caleb stared at him in astonishment. “You sound like my sister.”
A sharp pain sliced through his head, and he rubbed it with his fingers.
Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “Is your head hurting again?”
“Yeah.” His anxiety made it throb worse than normal. The doctors said his headaches would tail off after a while. He wished he knew when that would be, ’cause it had been months.
“I’ll help you as much as I can.”
“Yeah, I know.” He and Caleb had been best friends since they were five. It was weird how he recollected everything about Caleb and growing up together. He even remembered the words to their songs, yet his time with Julia remained blank. Those precious snippets of memories had taken weeks to return to him after the mugging, and even now his mind contained frustrating gaps.
The cab slowed and came to a halt outside a new apartment block. He didn’t recognize it, but he and the rest of the band had been in Europe for almost a year, much longer than they’d originally planned. Now that he was here, nerves slid through him. His heart beat a little faster. He paid the driver, grimacing at the faint tremor in his hand.
Caleb watched the taxi drive off. “Are we going to be here a while?”
“Depends.” Ryan strode to the apartment entrance and checked the directory on the wall. Julia Maxwell. Only her Christian name seemed familiar while the surname could belong to anyone. He pressed on her apartment buzzer, keeping his finger down for long seconds. He waited. When nothing happened, he stabbed the button again.
“She’s either a deep sleeper or she’s not home. Maybe she’s out on a date.”
Ryan’s gut twisted, a sharp pain of protest. “No,” he whispered, appalled at the idea.
Caleb’s dark brows rose. “Just because you’ve given up dating and become a monk, it doesn’t mean the rest of the world should follow your example. What’s so important about Julia?”
Ryan sighed. He pushed the bell one final time, and when nothing happened, turned to his friend, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
“Ryan, I don’t get it. Why is it so urgent for you to see this Julia?”
Ryan’s chest ached in tandem with the throb at his temples. “Julia is my wife.”
“What?” Caleb grabbed his arm, pincher fingers digging into his biceps. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“The time never seemed right. My memory was patchy, so there was nothing to tell.”
“Fuck, she must have been worried sick when she didn’t hear from you. Why didn’t she ring?”
“She probably tried,” Ryan said. “They took my phone. Even if she managed to get in touch with Seymour, he wouldn’t have believed her. And because the mugging happened between concerts and we only had to cancel one, she most likely thinks I abandoned her.”
“You should have told me, man.”
Ryan tried not to let the pain inside him gain momentum. “At first I couldn’t remember her name. Everything was so foggy I decided my memory might play tricks on me. Besides, Seymour would have had a cow.”
“The ‘no serious relationships’ thing? There’s no reason we can’t get married if we want.”
Ryan snorted. “That’s not what management says. You’ve heard Seymour’s lectures.”
“Doesn’t mean we have to follow his advice,” Caleb said. “It’s not a formal clause in our contract.”
“Is that your year of law talking?”
“Fuck you,” Caleb said, giving him a one finger salute for emphasis. “I was humoring my parents. When did you get married anyhow? How did you do it without me noticing?”
“You attended your family christening over Anniversary weekend. Julia and I flew to Fiji for a four-day break and married while we were there.”
“Congratulations.”
“She’s served divorce papers on me,” Ryan said with a snarl, anger warring with the jagged knife slicing into his brain. He loved her, damn it. “I’m not letting her go without a fight.”
Caleb’s grin lit up his face. “And I worried a three-month break might bore me.” He rubbed his hands together. “This should be fun.”
“There’s nothing funny about a divorce.”
The amusement quit Caleb. “I know that, man, but I understand you. Julia won’t stand a chance. She’ll be putty in your hands again in days. I’ll be your wingman.”
Ryan’s hackles rose and his fingers balled to fists. “You won’t be putting your hands on my wife again. That was a one-time thing.”
Caleb raised his hands in surrender, his gaze steady, reassuring, and some of the tension seeped from Ryan. Caleb was his friend, not the enemy.
“Why don’t we go back to the apartment, grab a few hours’ sleep then stake out her place. You can confront her when we run her to ground.”
It was a sensible solution, despite his need for immediate action. He hesitated before admitting to his exhaustion. The damn headache had taken hold, and his skull thumped like the crazy beat of Neil’s drums during a solo spot. “Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan.”
Down but not out. Julia was his wife. His woman, and soon no one would doubt it, least of all her.
She had to get away.
Now, before she bawled. Julia bent to grab her purse, her fingers brushing the envelope containing her mother’s letter. Unshed tears—divorce-induced tears—stung her eyes, and she blinked.
“Anyone for another drink?” Julia sprang to her feet, smiling brightly at her three friends while waiting for their reply.
“I’ll take another margarita,” Maggie said, her brown eyes sparkling with happiness, even in the dim light of the Cock and Bull pub.
“I shouldn’t,” Susan chimed in then wrinkled her pert, freckled nose. “Oh, what the heck. Me too.”
Christina waggled her empty glass, setting her golden bracelets chattering in a musical tone. “Same again for me, thanks.”
Julia pushed her way through the crowd, scowling at the two suit-wearing buffoons who leered at her boobs. If anything, her repulsion egged them on, their smirks widening with the thrill of the chase.
“Wanna drink, babe?” Mr. Beard asked, waggling his brows in a suggestive manner.
“Blondes with pretty…” Mr. Shaved Head looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her breasts. “…eyes are my favorite. Let’s cut to the chase and go to my place.”
“I’m taken,” she snapped, stomping past. Her loneliness, her rotten taste in men, swirled amongst her concern for her mother. Her soon-to-be divorce. A tear plopped onto her arm. Another struck the hem of her lacey white top. Instead of forcing her way to the bar, she kept walking until she made the relative privacy of the restrooms. By the time the door whooshed shut behind her, tears were falling in earnest.
Everything was such a mess…
The door pushed open, and Maggie spied her before she could wipe her eyes. Her friend’s happy expression faded. “Julia, are you all right?”
Julia swallowed. “Yes.”
“Liar, you’ve been quiet all evening. Come on.” She plucked a packet of tissues out of her handbag and handed several over. “Dry your eyes and we’ll get out of here. Let’s collect Christina and Susan and head to my place. Perhaps we can help.”
One taxi ride later, Julia found herself at Connor and Maggie’s apartment in Newmarket, not far from the business center of Auckland. Maggie, who had secretly snared Julia’s best friend, Connor, last year, bustled around organizing drinks, and soon they each sipped a glass of white wine. A bowl of crisps, another of vegetable sticks and a fattening cheesy dip sat on the glass-topped coffee table in front of them.
“When’s Connor due home?” Julia asked—casually, she thought. Judging by the rolling eyes, her friends were on to her plan.
“Quit stalling.” Susan confirmed her fears.
Julia ruminated on her secrets—the things she hadn’t confided to her friends. Some of them about Ryan she couldn’t tell because she’d promised, and she never went back on her word, even if the louse didn’t deserve her loyalty.
“Julia, it can’t be that bad,” Maggie said.
“It’s worse.” Julia pulled the envelope from her handbag, going for diversion from the most troubling truth. “This is a letter from my mother.”
“You never talk about her,” Susan said. “Where does she live?”
“Auckland.” They lived in the same city, and her mother posted her a letter rather than pick up the phone or email. It said a lot about their relationship.
“But you never… Do you see her?” Maggie asked.
“We talk on the phone, and I drop in to see her once or twice a month.” Julia winced. “That sounds heartless, as if I don’t care, but we’ve never been super close. She’s always been busy working or involved with a man.” Usually a different one every month, but she didn’t voice the thought. It seemed disloyal when her record was no better.
Maggie wrinkled her nose. “I’d be the last one to cast stones. My relationship with my parents isn’t worth shouting about. I’m closer to Connor’s parents than mine.”
“What’s the problem?” Susan’s blue eyes held genuine concern. “What can we do to help?”
Julia’s hand tightened around her glass. Afraid of breaking it, she set her wine aside. How would her friends react? “My mother runs a club on Karangahape Road. A strip club.” Julia sucked in a quick breath and scanned her friends’ faces, ready for their responses. She’d heard every variation while growing up and had a smartass cut down for each dirty, snide comment.
“K’ Road? Really?” The pitch of Maggie’s voice rose, clear amusement in the quirk of her lips.
“Is that all you’re gonna say?” Julia demanded.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Susan asked.
“My question exactly,” Christina said. “It’s not a brothel, is it?”
“No!” Julia leapt to her feet, indignation fueling her temper. “It’s a strip club. Buck’s nights and that sort of thing. I earned enough money stripping to pay for my education rather than taking out student loans.”
Silence fell. Susan’s mouth dropped open fishlike. Intrigue and silent questions radiated off Christina while Maggie raised her quirk to a smartass grin.
“Any more comments?” Julia asked.
“Well, you trump mine and Connor’s kinky spanking by a country mile,” Maggie said. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“If you had any idea how people treated me while growing up—the teasing and disgusting remarks—you wouldn’t ask that question.”
“Actually, I do understand.” Maggie reached over to squeeze Julia’s hand, her manner serious and more importantly, not passing sentence. “My mother and her scandalous private life made my teenage years hell.”
“We’re not judging you.” Susan tilted her head to the side until she resembled an inquisitive bird. “I’m more intrigued than anything. What’s the problem?”
“Has the economy downturn hurt your mother’s business?” Christina asked.
Julia winced at the sharp hit of guilt. “My mother is struggling to keep ahead of the bank loans, but she needs to an operation. Her heart isn’t good.”
“And?” Maggie prompted. “How can we help?”
“Mum hired a manager to cover for her, and yesterday he ran off with the week’s takings. The next loan payment is due, and if she can’t pay, the bank is threatening to call in her loan. She’ll lose everything.”
Susan’s brows drew together. “Did she go to the police?”
“Yes, but she said they treated her as a nuisance.”
Her friends fell silent, leaving Julia to her thoughts. She had the money Ryan had given her and intended to throw it back in his face at the first opportunity, once the divorce became final, but this way was better. She’d write her mother a check and tell her it was from her savings to stall awkward questions.
“What time does your mother’s club close?” Christina asked.
“Around four in the morning, earlier if there are no customers. Why?”
Christina’s eyes gleamed behind her glasses. “We should visit. It’s a perfect assignment for the Tight Five.” She referred to their group, the name taken from a rugby term where five players bound in a tight formation to face the opposition team. They were like that. Four women and one man—friends—who used to work together at the accountancy firm and who maintained the friendship away from the job.
“A strip club?” Doubt skittered over Susan’s freckled face. “Oh no, I couldn’t.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Maggie said. “Christina’s right. This is a Tight Five situation. Well, four anyway since Connor isn’t here.”
“Why?” Julia scanned her friends, studying their expressions. Christina continued to look mischievous. Clear excitement had Maggie beaming in a toothy manner while Susan’s brow knit with plain horror.
Christina made a tsking sound at the back of her throat as if it should be obvious. “So we can come up with an action plan to help your mother, of course.”
“Before Connor gets back,” Maggie reminded them, jumping to her feet. “I’ll order a cab.” She rifled through the contents of her handbag. “Bother, where is my stupid phone?”
“You want to give Connor a reason to spank you,” Julia said.
“He’s perfectly able to come up with reasons by himself,” Maggie said cheerfully. “I don’t have a single problem with our sex life.”
“Please keep your satisfaction muted,” Christina said in disgust, although naughtiness remained in her eyes. “Some of us don’t have a sex life.”
“Yeah,” Susan said, taking a quick sip of her wine.
“Is there an echo in the room?” Maggie taunted.
“Hell, yeah,” Christina said. “We’re both plain jealous.”
Susan gave an emphatic nod. “Damn straight we are.”
Julia picked up a carrot stick and crunched down, not bothering to voice her opinion. A sex life was more trouble than anything. Every time sex entered her mind, she thought of Ryan, and she didn’t need a reminder of the rat, thank-you-very-much. The last failure in a lengthy line of sexy bad boys—man could she pick ’em.
“Julia?” Christina waved her hands to get her attention.
Julia’s head jerked and she blinked. “What?”
Maggie stabbed her cell phone with her forefinger. “The cab will be here in ten minutes. Drink lively, ladies.”
Julia found herself swept from Maggie’s apartment in a determined storm of friends. They piled into the cab, tipsy from margaritas and wine.
“Give the driver the address, Julia,” Christina said.
“Are we sure this is a clever idea?” Susan asked.
“Think of it this way, Susan,” Maggie said. “When you’re at the Farmer Seeks a Wife interviews, you’ll have something novel to discuss with your farmer.”
“I won’t get past the first round,” Susan said.
“Then I’m gonna beat your ass,” Christina announced, almost crowing. “Because I intend to go all the way, baby. I’m gonna score me a sexy-hot farmer husband.”
Susan opened and closed her mouth. “Dang, I’m slipping. I’m doing that negative, judgmental thing again.” She took a deep breath. “This will be a fun adventure. Does anyone have a notebook? I can take notes so we don’t forget anything.”
“How long since you stripped, Julia?” Maggie asked from the front seat.
“Not since I finished my secretarial courses.” She glared at the driver when his gaze met hers in the rearview mirror. “I didn’t need to work for my mother once I graduated and found a job.”
And she couldn’t wait to get away from the score of uncles who paraded through her mother’s bedroom. The touchy feely ones had scared her, but she was uncomfortably aware she’d inherited her mother’s appalling lack of judgment with men. Now it seemed her mother might move on to women.
Welcome to my crazy world.
Maggie twisted in the front seat to see her friends clearly. “Can you show me a routine or two? Connor would enjoy a private strip show.”
“You’re talking about sex again,” Christina accused.
Maggie giggled, and Julia’s heart twisted, a jagged sensation, almost like a sharp blow to the chest. It left her breathless, aching and so alone. While she was pleased for Maggie and Connor, it was painful to see their happiness when she and Ryan… She shook herself, cutting off the thought. Not. Going. There.
Thankfully, the cab pulled up in front of her mother’s club. Maggie took care of the fare while the rest of the group climbed out.
“Whoa.” Susan gaped at two women in full war paint. With exaggerated hip-swagger, they strutted past in their skimpy skirts and matching tops, their heels tap-tapping on the footpath. “I need to work on an attitude like that.”
Familiarity seized Julia, the sense of coming home, even though she’d hated living here. The faint throb of a rock ballad seeped through the windows of a flat above a shop farther down the street. Her gaze took in the laughing people waiting for entrance to the new club—another one in opposition to her mother’s. The line snaked along the edge of the building and halfway down the next block.
“Watch out,” Maggie said, flinging out her arm to stop Julia’s progress.
Julia looked down and grimaced. Someone had lost their dinner. She stepped around the smelly pile of vomit. “Do you still want to do this?”
Susan linked her arm with Julia’s and grinned. It was a trifle ragged on the edges, but it qualified as a grin. “Yes. Maggie and Christina aren’t going to change their minds. I need an adventure to jerk me out of my rut, so you’re stuck with us on this mission.”
Julia hoped her friends didn’t regret their enthusiasm. She steeled herself and headed for the front door of her mother’s club—The Last Frontier. Not a single person jostled for entry.
“Ladies.” An aging security guard stood to attention when he saw them. His white shirt strained over his belly, but he looked sharp with crisply pressed black trousers and black shoes that glistened even in the sparse foyer lighting.
“Hi, Stan,” Julia said. “How are you? How are the kids?”
Stan peered at her for an instant and broke into a delighted grin. “Julia, I didn’t recognize you. You’re so grown up now. Long time no see.” He wrapped her in a tight embrace. The scents of tobacco, laundry powder and a hint of Old Spice wafted to her and brought a second flash from the past. Aware of another bout of tears threatening, she pulled away. “Stan, these are my friends Maggie, Christina and Susan. Stan used to supervise me after school when Mum was busy with the club. He made sure I did my homework and was strict about it too. I never got away with anything.”
“Not true,” Stan said with a fond grin. “She used to wind me around her little finger.”
“Ah,” Christina said. “So that’s your fault. She’s still managing the males around her.”
Julia turned away, swallowing the lump constricting her throat. Ryan had burrowed into her heart like a parasitic worm, and she hadn’t managed him. Not a bit. She forced a smile to her lips, aiming for one that declared she was a competent adult and in complete control. “How’s Mum?”
Stan shook his head, his dark brows drawing together. “Not so good. All the stress isn’t good for her heart. If I ever see that rat manager I’ll wring his neck. Bloody thief, if you’ll pardon my French.”
“We’ve come to help,” Susan said.
“Good. Elise needs help, no matter how much she refutes it,” Stan said. “Go right in, ladies.”
“Is it busy tonight?” Julia asked.
A gusty sigh escaped him. “Business is bad this year. The new club down the street has stolen most of our customers. They seem to have a line outside for most of the night.”
Christina nudged Maggie. “We’ll check out the competition too.”
Julia shook her head a fraction, although she didn’t attempt verbal dissent. Once an idea wriggled into their heads, her friends became an unstoppable force. Tight Five, indeed.
“How is tomorrow night for you? Since it’s Friday, Connor will come with us,” Maggie said. “He’s playing rugby on Saturday afternoon and won’t be drinking. He can be our designated driver.”
“It sounds as if our adventure will be a big one,” Susan murmured to Julia.
“Yeah.” Julia wasn’t sure whether to strangle or hug her friends. “I hope you have a thick notepad.” She pushed through the internal double doors leading into the club.
The smoke she recalled from her younger years was a thing of the past due to the anti-smoking laws. Instead, a cocktail of alcohol, body odor and strong aftershave greeted her. Her nose wrinkled at the stale atmosphere, and imaginary cooties jumped on to her arms and legs, slithering along her flesh.
“Susan,” she said crisply. “Make a note. We need to do something with the air conditioning.” They were here now, and she might as well act on her friends’ suggestion. Put together an action plan. Even if her mother sold, she’d need to do a few improvements to attract a buyer.
“It’s very…ah…interesting,” Maggie said, after a quick glance around the cavernous interior.
“Don’t bother with tact,” Julia said, taking in the tired décor and carpet stained by numerous drunk and clumsy customers. “It’s even worse than I remember.”
The red velvet furnishings bore patches, the repairs even more noticeable because of the lack of customers. Up on the stage a young woman with long, chemical-blonde hair and a bored expression went through a lackluster routine. Her jaw worked a piece of gum. That, at least, matched the beat of the music. The song trailed off, and the woman stalked off the stage. Not one man attempted to give her a tip. Not surprising given her second-rate performance.
“We have our work cut out for us,” Christina said in woeful understatement.
Nodding, Julia continued to catalogue the problems. They needed to gut the entire building and start again. Hire new strippers. Advertise. Get proactive instead of settling for the same old methods, which weren’t working. She frowned. Her mother had a knack for the business and could instinctively tell if a woman had what it took to make a good stripper. For the club to go so far downhill and her not realize… Guilt rose to the surface again. She was a bad daughter. She should’ve checked on her mother more often.
At her side, Susan faltered when a drunken man blundered past on the way to the restrooms. “I’m up for the challenge,” she said, her blue eyes bulging as she took in her surroundings.
Maggie swung around in a slow circle, studying every gaping deficiency. She turned to face them and broke into a grin. “Let’s do it.”
Damn, Julia wanted to weep again. She peered through shimmering eyes at her friends. “The margaritas have rotted your brains.”
“I agree with Maggie,” Christina said.
Julia glanced at Susan, the normal naysayer and voice of reason. “Are you sure?”
Susan nodded emphatically. “I want to do this.”
“I still think you need your heads read by a professional, but let’s find my mother. She might talk sense into you.” Julia strode up to the bar with her friends at her back. Gratitude she couldn’t express clamped around her ribs, making it difficult to breathe. They were the best, but they had no idea what was involved in running a strip club.
A buxom barmaid sauntered up to them as she gulped down the handful of crisps she’d shoved in her mouth. “Yeah, what will it be?”
“Where’s Elise?” Julia asked. The woman needed to lose both the food habit and her attitude.
“She’s out the back.” The woman indicated a door behind the bar with a jerk of her finger. “Wait, you can’t come back here.”
“I’m Elise’s daughter,” Julia said. “Stan will vouch for me.” She stalked to the door, aware of the others hurrying after her.
“Julia?”
Julia paused, shocked by her mother’s weak voice. She entered the office and found her mother resting on a couch. She’d lost weight and her blusher stood out in two red circles against the paleness of her cheeks. Her long blonde hair framed her face with lank strands and the distinct gray streaks snared Julia’s attention. Her mother was vain when it came to her hair and in the past had ruthlessly dealt with any hint of gray.
“Mum, how are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine or you wouldn’t be in here resting. Why didn’t you ring me?” Julia unleashed her worry with sharp words.
Her mother’s chin lifted. “I sent you a letter.”
“Mum, I live ten minutes away.”
“I wanted to tell you everything, and a letter was easier. I didn’t want to watch your expression or hear you judge me.”
“Oh, Mum.” All her childhood embarrassment and their past arguments receded, now unimportant. Her friends were right. They needed a plan, and it might be the thing to take her mind off Ryan. As soon as the divorce came through, she could move on, and meantime, she’d work on helping her mother. “Don’t worry about hiring a new manager, not when I can do the job for you.”
“I can’t ask you to give up your job. You have your own life.”
“I’ll take a leave of absence,” Julia said in a no-nonsense voice, ignoring the tiny sliver of panic struggling to slip free. Her entire life was spinning in the wrong damn direction. “Leave everything to me and you concentrate on getting better.”