“HE’S BEEN GONE awhile,” Robbie said from his spot on the plush settee where he’d taken up residence around twenty minutes ago.

After they’d brought their bags inside and locked up, they’d quickly realized that they were the only ones there, and Julien’s parents must be out. So Priest had directed them into an enormous living space that was home to some of the most spectacular views Robbie had ever seen.

The Stone Canyon Reservoir, Priest had told him, and Robbie couldn’t help but wonder how much a place like this would run a person. It was, in a word, mind-blowing.

Not only did Robbie feel as though he were on top of the world up there. But they also got to look down on everyone from what looked like a French parlor from the old days, which had one of the most gorgeous baby grands he’d ever seen sitting off in the corner.

“You’re right, he has,” Priest finally said as he got to his feet and started to pace back and forth in front of the wall of windows. It was obvious he had been trying to give Julien some space when they’d arrived, maybe to deal with his parents on his own? But since they weren’t there, Robbie could tell Priest was getting anxious over letting Julien out of his sight for so long. “I’m going to go and check the kitchen. That’s usually where he winds up.”

As Priest crossed the living room, Robbie stood to follow, and Priest came to a stop and looked back.

“I won’t be more than a few minutes. You can wait here if you like.”

“What I’d like,” Robbie said, and slipped his hand into Priest’s, sensing his need for comfort of some sort, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, “is to come with you to find Julien.”

Priest looked down to their joined hands, and then he raised his eyes back to Robbie, who gave him a pointed look, daring him to tell him he couldn’t.

“Very well. Let’s go.”

Priest weaved the two of them down several halls and through too many doors to count, and as they went, Robbie tried to resist the urge to gape at everything.

The place was like a museum with trinkets and mementos all over the walls, from expensive artwork to stunning furnishings in each room, and when they finally stepped into the kitchen and found it empty, Priest braced his hands on the island and shook his head.

“Hey,” Robbie said, and came up by his side. “I’m sure he’s close by.” In relative terms, because honestly, he had no idea how big this house was.

A fierce frown pulled between Priest’s brows as he scanned the gourmet kitchen. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Robbie put his hand over Priest’s where it rested on the granite counter. “Well, you’re the one who said this weekend was a hard one. So it’s probably just—”

“No. It’s not that,” Priest said, as he continued to look around. “It’s too quiet. It feels…empty.”

Robbie scrunched his nose up as he looked around, and couldn’t deny that. He’d just compared it to a museum. It was quiet and empty. It felt—

“Unlived in,” Priest said, then he walked around the counter and headed over to the double-wide stainless-steel fridge, which he opened, revealing—absolutely nothing.

“Fuck.” Priest’s curse echoed off the slate floors and tiled walls, as he stood staring at the cleaned-out fridge. “They’re not here,” he said under his breath, and then louder, “Those fucking assholes aren’t here.”

Oh shit, Robbie thought, as Priest slammed the door shut. He’d never seen him so furious. The anger was rolling off Priest in waves as he came back to the center island and planted his hands there.

Robbie assumed Priest meant Julien’s parents, and considering the reason they were there, the fact that Julien’s parents had bailed was really fucking shitty.

“We’ve got to find him,” Priest said, with a determined set to his jaw and a grim line on his lips. “If we split up we have a better chance.”

Right. Robbie agreed. But then he remembered how big this place was and wondered if finding Julien would be as easy as just deciding to go and do so. Who knows how many nooks and crannies this place has? “Umm,” he said, and fidgeted with his hands. “I…I might get lost here. How many rooms are there exactly?”

Priest came over to Robbie and put a hand on his shoulder. “A lot. There are three levels.”

“What?” Robbie said, his eyes close to bugging out of his head. “Three?”

“Yes. The stairs and elevator connect them all. I’m going to check the other two. You stay on this one. That way, you won’t get lost.”

“Okay,” Robbie said, and wasn’t sure that made him feel better. There was a high possibility he might go missing on this level alone. Who lived like this?

Priest gave a clipped nod, and as he went to walk by him, Robbie reached out and took hold of his arm.

“What…” Robbie paused and thought over his next words carefully. “What do I say if I find him?”

Priest pivoted until they were practically standing toe to toe and took Robbie’s face between his hands. “You’ll know. The one thing we’re both in awe of is how perceptive you are when it comes to us. As if you instinctively know what we need from each other. What we need from you.” Priest pressed a gentle kiss to Robbie’s lips and said, “Trust yourself. It hasn’t led you wrong yet, has it?”

Robbie shook his head. “I just don’t want to make anything worse.”

“That’s not possible. Text me if you find him or—”

“I get lost and need food?”

“Or that,” Priest said, and he turned on his heel and left, and the both of them set out to find the man who was the most lost out of all three of them.

PRIEST HEADED BACK in the direction of the living room to where he knew the elevator was, and with each step he took, his anger rose.

Where the fuck were Julien’s parents? Priest had no idea, but they were lucky they weren’t anywhere he could get his hands on them, because he felt murderous.

God, he couldn’t even imagine what Julien must be feeling. It was bad enough when he was there and they acted like he didn’t exist. But to vanish without letting your son know you were going? That was some bullshit.

As Priest stormed down the hall, he walked past Julien’s father’s study and came to a stop. He glanced inside and scanned the bookcase and desk, the lamp in the corner, and the oversized chair by the window.

The place was spotless, as though the house were a display home. There was no laptop or desktop computer, no papers or pens. There was nothing—anywhere. No personal belongings in sight, and the air had a stale feel to it. No one had been there in months, and that was becoming more and more obvious with every step he took.

Julien didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this. What had happened all those years ago had been tragic. It had been a moment of stupidity by siblings that had ended horribly. Julien dealt with the consequences of that night every day of his life, and though Priest hated the need Julien had to come back here each year, he understood it.

He understood that this was where Julien felt her the most, that this was where the connection was the strongest for him, and any time he’d tried to avoid it, Julien’s mental state slowly deteriorated until he reverted to what he knew numbed the pain the best—copious amounts of alcohol and weeks of self-loathing. It was a cycle Priest never grew used to witnessing and one he was at a loss to help fix, because how could you fix what had happened in the past?

The answer was simple—you couldn’t.

Priest stabbed the up button, and when the elevator door opened and he stepped inside, he hit the button for the third floor and then leaned against the wall.

Where are you, mon cœur? he thought, as the elevator began to move, and then he closed his eyes, remembering the first time Julien had broken down in front of him, and only hoped that he or Robbie got to him before that happened.

IT WAS NEARING the end of a grueling workweek as Priest sat back in his chair and cracked his neck from side to side. He was in the middle of adding his final notes to the Miller case he’d finally wrapped up after months in court, when there was a knock on his office door.

“Come in,” he called out, and glanced up from his computer.

Helena, his PA, opened the door a crack and stuck her head inside. “I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re getting ready to head out for the week.”

“That’s fine. Is there a problem?”

“Uh, well, there’s someone out here asking for you but…”

As her words trailed off, and she started to look uncomfortable, Priest sat back in his chair and said, “But what, Helena?”

She slipped inside the office, shut the door behind her, and said softly, “I think he’s drunk.”

“Drunk?” Priest got to his feet. “Who is it?”

“Umm, he said he was your friendly neighborhood car thief?”

That damn Frenchman. “Right,” Priest said, and walked around his desk. “You can send him in.”

Helena’s eyes widened slightly. “Are you sure? I can have security escort—”

“Helena?” Priest said.

“Yes?”

“You can send him in. I know him.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said, and turned to walk back to the door. When she got there and opened it, she stopped and looked back. “If I misspoke, I’m—”

“You didn’t. I wasn’t expecting him, but it seems he’s already had a rough day, so I best see what he needs. You can head on home, though.”

“Are…are you sure? I can wait for you,” she said, sounding less than convinced that leaving was a good idea.

“Yes. Go ahead. I’ll head out after I take care of this.”

“Very good. I’ll send him in.”

Priest gave her a clipped nod and watched her go, and as the door shut behind her, he buttoned his jacket and took a moment to wonder how Julien had found him, and why he was plastered by five on a Friday.

A knock came first, and when Priest raised his head and Julien stepped—or rather, stumbled—into the office, Priest drew up short. Julien looked terrible.

His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes were crumpled to shit as though he’d slept in them all week, and as Priest brought his eyes back to the glazed ones fastened on him, he said, “Hello.”

“Bonjour, Mr. Priest,” Julien said as he walked further inside the office, and Priest thought it telling that even shit-faced drunk, this man made his body react in ways he’d never experienced before.

It had been a couple of months since he’d last seen the gorgeous Mr. Thornton, but that by no means lessened his impact. Drunk or not, Julien was undeniably sexy and made Priest’s cock achingly aware it hadn’t seen any action in exactly…a couple of months.

“It’s Mr. Priest-ley. But I believe you already know that. Don’t you, Mr. Thornton?” Priest walked around his desk and took his seat, determined to keep something between him and the man now falling down into the chair opposite him.

“Oui, I do,” Julien said, and though he smiled at Priest, the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. Julien had been nothing but mouthy both of the times they’d previously met, but right now, he seemed…off.

“Are you okay, Mr. Thornton? You haven’t broken any more laws, have you?”

“Non. No laws, but…” As Julien trailed off and looked around his office, Priest leaned back in his chair and studied his profile. Julien had a perfect Roman nose, a classic, strong jaw line, and, Priest remembered from when he smiled, a dimple on his right cheek.

“I need your help, monsieur.”

Priest told himself to say no as he sat there staring across his desk at the man he hadn’t been able to get off his mind since they’d met. He couldn’t be someone’s knight in shining armor. The go-to whenever Julien broke a law. But instead of doing that, Priest heard himself say, “Why? What did you do?”

“Merde. Of course you assume it’s my fault,” Julien said, his tone relaying how impressed he was by that assumption. “Je suis vraiment trop con d’être venu ici.”

Christ. Whenever Julien spoke French—even to insult him—Priest wanted to grab him and kiss him until he groaned it against his lips, and that reaction bothered the hell out of him.

He didn’t know this guy. Other than his penchant for petty crimes. Yet, from the very first moment, Priest had wanted Julien with a single-minded hunger that had not only turned him celibate but also, apparently, insane.

He shut his eyes and reminded himself that getting involved with Julien would be a monumental mistake. Ethically, morally, and mentally, since Julien was clearly unstable. But then again, there was nothing all that balanced about Priest, either.

“What did you just say?” Priest said, and when Julien merely stared at him blankly, he shook his head. Jesus, this was getting them nowhere. “Fine, don’t answer that. Why don’t we try something else? How did you get here?”

“I took a taxi. Pourquoi?” Julien said, belligerence dripping off him at being questioned.

“I assume you just asked me why? And here’s your answer. You smell like you spent the day in a bar.”

“I did,” Julien said, unashamed.

Priest narrowed his eyes, searching for some hint as to what was going on, but came up with nothing. Maybe this was Julien’s usual behavior. It wouldn’t be that big a stretch of the imagination, considering what Priest knew of him. He’d seen this kind of destructive behavior the first time they’d met, and had it confirmed the night he’d bailed Julien out of jail.

As Julien rubbed his fingers over his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, Priest thought he looked like someone trying to banish something from his mind, and couldn’t help but wonder if that were the case or if he was just getting an alcohol-induced headache.

“Mr. Thornton?” Priest said, and waited for Julien to open his eyes. “As delighted as I am to see you here this afternoon, do you want to perhaps tell me what’s wrong?”

“Wrong?”

“Yes,” Priest said, his voice softening now as his irritation and impatience drained from him. “Clearly there’s something going on with you. Why are you here?”

Julien’s glassy eyes tried to focus, but when it was obvious he was struggling, Priest found himself getting to his feet and coming around to where Julien sat. He crouched down in front of the man who had once boldly told him he was stealing his car, and looked into the pale face of a stranger, who right now looked scared of his own shadow.

“Julien?” Priest said, and reached up to cup either side of Julien’s face. “Why are you here?”

Julien brought his hands up to cover Priest’s, and then leaned forward on his seat until they were practically nose to nose. “Because I deserve to suffer, monsieur. That’s why I’m still here.” Priest didn’t dare move, that answer not at all what he’d expected. As Julien’s eyes slid shut, he whispered, “But I won’t let them have her.”

“Who?” Priest said in a voice he barely recognized. “I don’t understand…”

“Jacquelyn,” Julien said, and then blinked. A tear slipped free of his eye and ran down to where Priest’s hand was resting. “They want to know…but I won’t tell… You can help. You can make it so they can’t have her.”

“All right,” Priest said, agreeing without understanding the first thing about what he was agreeing to. All he knew was that he would’ve said or done anything to stop the pain Julien was so obviously feeling. “I’ll help you. Whatever you need.”

“Merci, Mr. Priest,” Julien whispered, and when his lips curved into a half smile, that dimple appeared on his cheek, and Priest couldn’t help but stroke it. “I like the color of your hair.”

The comment was so far removed from what they’d been discussing that it made Priest chuckle, and then Julien leaned forward and skimmed his lips over the top of Priest’s in one of the sweetest, yet saddest, kisses he had ever received.

“I did it,” Julien said when he raised his head, and Priest was close enough to see the darker ring of jade around Julien’s irises—they were extraordinary, but then again, so was his entire face.

“You did what?”

“I found something I liked better than me right now,” he said, reminding Priest of the last conversation they’d had.

“And what’s that?” Priest said, and felt his heart almost stop when Julien touched his fingers to his lips and said, “You.”

PRIEST STEPPED OUT of the elevator on the third floor and placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. He hadn’t thought about that day in years. Julien had been a mess—both physically and emotionally. It had been the day after he’d stormed off the set of Chef Master, having refused to talk about his sister, and it had also been their first kiss.

Priest still remembered the way his heart had just about stopped at that simple touch. It had been sad and short, and everything a first kiss shouldn’t be. But for him, it had been magic.

A shock straight to his heart. A flash of recognition that he was staring into the face of fate, and from that day on, nothing could’ve stopped him from hunting down Julien Thornton with the single-minded focus of a dog with a bone—just as he was now.

AFTER PRIEST LEFT, Robbie made his way out of the kitchen and decided to head in the opposite direction to which they’d come. The house was, as Priest had said, way too quiet as he walked down the hall, and Robbie couldn’t begin to imagine what it must’ve been like to grow up in a place like this.

There was one room after another, and each one was picture perfect. Robbie was positive that the furnishings in one room alone likely cost more than all of the furniture in his ma’s house. It was insane.

As he rounded a corner, he noticed some photographs hanging up on the wall. There, that’s more like it, he thought, moving closer, wanting to see what Julien had looked like as a little boy. But as he neared the collage of frames and images, it became clear that this wasn’t a display from proud parents, nor was it a display of a family over the years, like his ma had.

No, this was a memorial. It was a wall full of a little girl, then a teenage girl, and finally a young woman. All of whom, Robbie knew, were Jacquelyn.

With his heart in his throat, Robbie took a step forward to examine the face staring out at him and was shocked by the eyes looking back at him.

“I had a sister. A twin sister. Her name was Jacquelyn. She died eight years ago.”

Julien’s words came back to him as Robbie stood there studying the beautiful face in each image. But what Julien hadn’t told him was the uncanny resemblance they shared even as twins.

From the smile—those full lips—to the stunning green eyes, Jacquelyn’s features were a close to exact replica of Julien’s. Her skin was the same tone, her hair the same color, and she even had that dimple on the right side of her cheek.

It was surreal, and Robbie couldn’t imagine how it was for Julien to see her so clearly whenever he looked in a mirror. He’d never be able to escape. Never be able to not see her. Not unless he shut his mind down. Not unless he slept or meditated.

Oh shit, now it makes more sense, Robbie thought. Most nightmares, most demons or ghosts, haunted people at night in their sleep. But Julien’s? His usually came during the day, when he was awake and could see.

Robbie’s eyes shifted from photo to photo, and as he looked closer, he realized that most of them were…torn?

No. No, he had to be wrong. There was no way his parents would be that cruel.

But as Robbie reached out and trailed his fingers down one of the images—Jacquelyn laughing, as she stood by a Christmas tree, wrapped up in a red coat—he spotted it. The bottom of a black coat brushing up against hers, as though someone else had been in the image. Someone who had made her laugh that way, someone she was angled toward, and someone who had been cut out and forever erased from that memory.

Robbie jerked his hand away as though he’d been burned. God, how could they do that? But as Robbie’s eyes moved from image to image, he knew what he was seeing was true.

Julien had been removed from each and every one of these photos, and as if that wasn’t heartbreaking enough, in every image, Jacquelyn was so clearly smiling at the one she loved most—the one who was no longer there.

Robbie brought his fingers up to his mouth and wasn’t sure if he was holding back a sob or a scream. But then he wiped away a tear from his cheek and found he was more determined than ever to find Julien.

He wanted to find his Julien, and reassure him that he had a place, that he belonged somewhere. And that place was with Robbie and Priest.