“Come the fuck on,” I grunt through clenched teeth, waiting for my phone to connect.

Pick. Up.

“Cal?” Cade sounds like he just woke up from a nap. Then I hear the equally sleepy moan at his side, and I know he isn't alone.

“I need Palkovich's schedule, and I need it fucking now.”

“Whoa, holy shit. Calm down.”

Okay, now I know he's gotten his rocks off and he's drunk. The sober Cade Turnbladt knows full well telling anyone to calm down never helps.

“Where are you?” he asks. “I'm not letting you downtown alone to do something stupid.”

“There isn't time. I'm not asking for backup. Just want to talk. I'm not packing. I swear.” I regret leaving the little Magnum I keep for personal protection at home, too distracted with other business. But it's for the best in this case. “Cade, fucking tell me. I need this.”

“Yeah, you know this asshole doesn't do heart-to-heart chats, right? What do you think you're doing? Walking up to him with a smile and a handshake, thinking he'll magically sprout a conscience?”

“Cade.” His name barely sounds human when it comes out. It's so raw it leaves my throat dry.

“Christ, Cal. Easy. Talk to me. Tell me what's happened, and maybe I'll think about revealing the asshole's location.”

“They're going after Maddie. Somebody on his side is. She got a call from her boss, threatening to pull her career over some hacked bullshit. They're not letting her back in Beijing to work because they say she's been compromised. Too fucking big a coincidence, considering our situation.” I leave out the part about how I let her storm out, tears and heartbreak oozing from every pore.

“Shit. That's tough.”

I definitely don't mention how I rammed my fist into the tiled wall, cracking a section I'll need repaired, leaving soft bruises across my knuckles. It hurt like hell to let her go, walk out without giving chase.

But if I didn't, there wouldn't be a second chance to talk her down later. We won't have a future. I have to keep moving, and somehow stop my fist from meeting the councilman's face.

“Listen to me, I want you to call Spence,” Cade says “Palkovich has a public meeting tonight. You might run him down there if you can get him alone afterward, but that still leaves us the big problem: he isn't going to listen. Especially not if he's bent on revenge. You can't just go in tongue blazing.”

“I can, and I will. I'll make it very fucking clear what'll happen if he doesn't lay off us, if he doesn't get over the shit I've paid for a hundred times over. We'll make his life suffering. He has to know we've flipped his hackers.”

“We have?” Cade sounds confused, sympathetic.

I'm not looking for emotions. I need the address. But he does have a point. “Someone's still messing with your girl, Cal. Maybe we've got a double agent on our hands in those idiots we bribed. That's what's worried me since the day you said 'go.' Dipping into sketchy shit guarantees we get burned.”

“Too fucking late. And it's too late to talk to Spence, too. We can't back out. The address, Cade. Don't make me find yours, drag you out of that cushy bed, and embarrass you in front of your latest dick toy.” My tone warns it's not an idle threat.

“Whatever, man. I'm trying to save you from yourself. If I let it drop, and you get yourself into serious trouble again, don't expect us to come running. We tried to help the sane way.”

I don't need your fucking sanity right now. The cruel thought ripples through my brain, douses my blood in adrenaline, warning me how crazy this is about to become – especially if he won't give me what I'm after.

“Cade,” I say his name one more time, slower and calmer.

“All right, already! Fuck. Cal, for the love of Christ, don't do something stupid. Here it is...”

I burn the address into my brain as he reads it, inputting the numbers and letters into my phone's GPS. It's the city convention center, not far from here. I should get there halfway through the meeting.

Plenty of time to find a spot to lurk while I figure out what comes next.

I end the call without a goodbye. Then I'm in my car, driving like a maniac through the windy streets, another God forsaken summer rain beating on my windows.

I can't let the past demolish everything I've worked for.

I have to make this right.

* * *

I'm sitting outside, listening to a man who could replace counting sheep with just his voice drone on about budgets and levies. I haven't heard Alex Palkovich Senior speak once, but I saw his silhouette when I peaked inside.

Same chiseled, arrogant face in a charcoal grey suit. Same hateful dark eyes as the ones that tried to kill me. Same dull mask, concealing the monster underneath, the thing that's willing to commit any evil to collect on my sins twice.

I don't know what the hell I'll say when he's out. Practicing a speech for your own worst enemy doesn't work.

Not when you're forced to lean on every instinct to avoid killing him in public.

I try to tell myself I don't mean it literally.

You're not like him, asshole, I remind myself. You're better. You tried to move on.

Tried, and failed miserably.

I can't imagine what happens if he ignores me. If I'm not in handcuffs by the end of the night, I'll have to land on Maddie's doorstep with my tail tucked between my legs, spilling our malfunctioning scheme to use hackers to bring down a bastard who can't let the past stay buried.

Incidentally, the very same hackers who are probably fucking up her career beyond repair, none of which would be happening if she hadn't come back to me, and put her name on my fake fiancée contract.

There's no justice.

The happiest time of my life, due in under four days, is starting to feel like a curse.

I didn't throw away a whole decade just to ruin her life years later.

I can't. I won't. And Palkovich Senior isn't walking away intact if both can't and won't aren't soon reality.

I spend another half hour sitting outside the conference hall, quietly seething, when I hear them winding down. Lady Luck blesses me with an opening.

People stream past, eager to exit the stuffy old building. Palkovich is slow gathering up his things, pretending to care about some constituent's concerns while most of the room empties.

He doesn't notice me trailing him to the parking garage, which is mostly deserted by the time we're alone. He must've parked a couple levels higher. I see him head up the escalator. I choose a spot near a tight, dark corner to wait while his vehicle begins its slow descent a minute or two later.

I listen to the engine coming closer, my heart crawling into my throat. Okay, asshole. Now.

Palky practically jumps out of his own skin when he sees me step in front of his car. His hand slams the horn, and he rolls down the window, screaming in a voice that's all too familiar. “Have you lost your fucking mind, homeless idiot?! Get out of my way!”

I do a slow, stern walk to his passenger window. He doesn't have time to hit the button to roll it up before my hands reach through, wrap around his collar, and pull his face up to mine. “Get out. Now.”

He already thinks I'm a bum. Might as well let him think I'm dangerous, too.

Keeping my hand in my pocket, I let him wonder what's in it, moving my fingers ever-so-slightly. There's nothing, of course, but the imaginary gun tells him how serious this is. There's a spring in his step when his door pops open and he tumbles out. He leaves his car running while I corner him, standing in the dim orange light, facing the man whose rotten son shattered my life once.

“Do you know who I am?” I ask, tipping my face up to catch more light.

Recognition floods his wicked eyes. Recognition, hatred, and nothing else.

Slowly, he nods, his silvery hair reflecting in the shadows. “Calvin Randolph. Selfish, stupid murderer. Scum of the earth.”

“Glad you're not senile yet, asshole. You ought to be able to guess why I'm here, then.”

He's smiling. God damn, it's too much like Scourge's old quirk of the lips. A smirk I thought I'd never see again outside my nightmares.

“You want your life back. You've come looking for peace,” he says, a split second before his voice dips to a nastier tone. “How precious. You've got some balls, kid, asking me straight to my face after you took away what I'll never get back.”

“Like I'm the unreasonable one? I'd say get over it, but I know you never will, Palky.” There's a satisfying vein twitch in his forehead when I use the nickname. “Give it up, councilman. Get some help for your rage. Stop fucking with my life, and my woman's. Do it, while there's still time we can both walk away and forget this, before it gets worse.”

“You took my own flesh and blood. So did she. I'll never quit, Randolph,” he says, stepping up to me. “Not while you're still breathing. You don't deserve a happy fucking ending for what you did.”

He's getting too close for his own damned good. It's hard to push my fist into my thigh, ensuring it doesn't wreck his jaw. “I'm not looking for an end. I'm after a new beginning. Last chance. I'm done letting everything that happened when I was a kid cut through the years like acid.”

“Then you should've stayed home. Looked after her. Protected what you had, at least for a few more days, before we would've had some real fun together.” He's almost in my face. I want to break his smug expression forever.

I don't understand. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why don't you go down to the police station and find out?” He brushes past me, heading for his car.

No. I'm done playing nice with this cryptic piece of shit. Rage floods my knees, my hands, sends me heading toward him with full intent to strange the bastard alive, but I never get the chance.

Another car comes flying in so close it nearly plows into him. Plants itself between me and Palkovich. It's disruption enough for him to scurry back to his driver's seat, and speed off a second later.

Rage rips me open. I'm screaming obscenities, still kicking like a mule hit by lightning when Spence grabs me. “Damn it, bro, you're lucky I got here when I did. Cade told me it'd go down like this. Stop fucking moving!”

Fuck him. I throw every punch reserved for Palkovich at my best friend, bellowing Maddie's name. It spills out into the vast garage and echoes like someone drifting out to sea.

I don't even know what the asshole who got away did to her, or how he did it – no thanks to my supposed friend rushing in to play white knight at the last second.

Doesn't he get this isn't about me anymore, but her?

Somehow, Spence opens his car, and shoves me inside. I put a few dents in his upholstery on the way. It's the best I'm able to do. Paralyzing anger makes me move like a drunken man, dumb and unfocused.

There's no point in fighting, screaming, slamming my foot into his seat like it'll end my woes. I sit up, realize we're in motion, and look at my friend's furious eyes in the rear view mirror. “You've got one chance to name a place before we drive down to Pike's and I let you find your way home.”

“Take me across town. I need to see Maddie's parents, her sis, somebody. Have to know what's happened.”

“Okay, dickhead. And then you're getting a driver home and paying my damages.”

“Whatever,” I grunt back. Obviously, I'll get us squared up, but right now I'm barely able to care what an unruly jackass I've been. Not while she's on my mind.

If Palkovich hurt her, or her family, so help me God.

I'll see the inside of a box shaped cell again before we're through.

* * *

When we get to the Middleton house, it's lit up. I'm not sure whether to be relieved or alarmed by the obvious activity signs.

Spence unlocks my door and waits in the car, pulling his phone out, probably to update Cade on my antics.

I don't care. I'm not even on the first step when the screen door flies open, and Kat Middleton storms toward me with a hate I thought I'd monopolized tonight.

“What the hell did you do, Calvin? It's your fucking fault she's in jail!”

“Jail? What?” Questions stick in my throat. So does a fresh new urge to break Spence's windshield for stopping me when I had a chance to bring that asshole down.

There isn't a chance to ask again. Her hand cracks across my cheek, leaving a burn as numbing as her words.

“They put her into handcuffs half an hour ago, idiot! Squad car and everything. Said she had the right to remain silent, wanted in connection with a major data-breach affecting several Seattle companies.” Her speech comes hurried, breathless, harsh.

Shakes me to the core. Rattles my fucking bones. I'm speechless for the second time tonight. I can't even hold onto the anger anymore to keep my head straight.

“What did you do to her?” Kat stabs me with the question again. “What did you do? Answer me, goddammit!”

Another fiery strike to my face loosens my senses. I stagger backward, catching my breath, trying my best to throw her a damned bone. “Maddie's collateral damage from a man who's still pissed about his son. He's after me, Kat, and she's a secondary prize. Don't worry. I'm not letting him get anywhere.”

“No? Really?” She laughs bitterly, rubbing anger and sadness from her eyes. They're so much like Maddie's soft eyes it stings deep. “So, where's your cape, superhero? You're lightning quick! Only an hour too late, dragging in here after the police picked her up over nothing. She was terrified.”

Fuck. It curdles my stomach just looking at her, but I force myself to do it.

It's the least she deserves, knowing I'm sincere, that I won't let this go unless I'm dead. “Let me fix this, Kat. I know how to fight back. I'm leaving to do it right now.”

“Whatever. Just get Maddie out of jail. Maybe if you're lucky, hero, she'll finally come to her senses and call off this shitty engagement. You've been bad for her since the day she had her first stupid crush. Do us all a favor, and stay out of her life.”

There's nothing else to say. She's asking me to do the one thing I'll never touch.

Racing down the steps, I don't look back. There isn't any point.

Spence takes his sweet time unlocking my door. He grudgingly drives me into the city. We're heading for my condo when the defeat in my stomach opens up.

She was terrified. I keep hearing those three words in my head over and over, a funeral melody in my mind.

Every time I picture Palkovich smiling, knowing he had me fucked from the nano-second I cornered him, I want to explode. He let me stop him. He wanted to gloat. Showed me how deep the screws were going in.

And now he's hoping I'll lose my wits completely, go after him, do something completely suicidal.

A death wish doesn't faze him. I realize it now, when it's too fucking late.

He doesn't care what happens, as long as he's brought me to my knees, and sunk Maddie by association.

Seven years ago, I was able to help her.

Tonight, I don't know how.

I'm back in the darkest days after the incident. Sheer hopelessness throws me into the past, replays my sacrifice, and makes me wonder if the worst day of my life was for nothing.

* * *

Maddie's watching, her beautiful eyes glued to me behind her thick frames. The whole damned school is when I step outside, ready to meet asshole on the track and put an end to this.

It's amazing the teachers haven't caught on and interrupted. Guess Friday evening has a lot to do with it. The schoolyard is deserted, and even the parking lot has cleared out.

Scourge is waiting for me, leaning up against a wall by the bleachers with his crew, cigarette between his lips. He stubs it out when he sees me approaching. We cross the last few steps to each other and shake hands. For a second, it's like a friendly competition, and we're not ready to beat the living shit out of each other.

“You remember the rules, asshole?” he whispers.

“Duh. No weapons. You want to pat me down? Not sure you'll be able to jerk off to it later in your cast, but whatever.”

The smirk on his face disappears. He lowers his arms, fists clenching, taking one last look across the field at the hundred or so students gathered around us. “You really are a fucking dog turd, Randolph. Least your little girlfriend won't have to worry about you knocking her up when we're done. I'm going to kick your fucking balls off.”

Go ahead. Try. Honestly, I should be completely zen, focused, ready for him to throw the first punch any second. But my eyes keep scanning over the short fence behind us, and I see her there, dressed in her plush white blouse and black skirt, perfectly in line with school code.

Cal, no. Please no, her eyes whisper. Hard not to admire her spirit, trying to talk me out of this without saying a word. It's much too late for that.

The cheers and excitement erupting around us tell me it's time to duck. Just in time. It's on.

His fist goes over my head, exposing the bully's chest. I land two hard punches under his ribcage.

He goes down hard. Lucky strike. I'm beginning to wonder if this'll be easier than I thought when his next blow lands on my collarbone.

“Fuck!” I scream, punching back, kneeing him in the gut, trying to knock the wind out of his lungs. Fire rips through my body. I'll be nursing bruises into next week.

Scourge isn't built like me, but he has a nasty hook. He's thrown his weight around plenty of times intimidating others.

Today, if I'm lucky, I'll be able to end that by breaking his ego as well as a few bones.

Punching, kicking, rolling, the entire world tilts. I see a flash of Maddie's shoe, tapping nervously at the ground, right before he pounds me between the eyes. The bridge of my nose lights up, bathing my brain in fire. Those skull rings on his fingers break the skin. Blood flows down my face, threatening to blind me.

I see red. Literally.

It turns something crazy on inside me. A killer instinct, maybe. I don't even know how I'm able to throw him off me, slam him down, and grind him into the pavement, but I do.

It's happening too fast.

My body can't feel the pain anymore. There are no distractions. All that matters is hitting him as often and as hard as I fucking can.

Kids keep screaming, whistling, banging every surface next to them in the excitement. It's like a wind in the trees, drowned out by the deafening thud of my heart.

“Ass...hole!” Scourge kicks me square in the gut. I lean on all my weight. He comes so close to getting me off him, but not quite.

It also leaves him defenseless when I bring my fist into his throat. I swear I didn't mean to do any serious damage when this started. I just wanted to teach him a lesson, wanted him to learn to stop fucking with me, with Maddie, with everybody else.

Next thing I know, he's gagging. Basic human empathy overrides the animal urge flooding my veins. I'm able to stop myself from breaking every bone in his face. He rolls out from under me, struggles to his knees, holding out a hand. “Stop, you fuck...no more.”

“You mean...you quit?” I'm almost as winded as he is. Disbelief is setting in.

The bastard doesn't say a word. Just hangs his head in shame, total shock, probably a dozen other new emotions.

It's over. I won.

I make sure my knees are working properly before I start moving away.

I'm heading for the opening behind the fence, ready to sweep Maddie up in my arms first chance I get, when the world explodes behind me. I turn around, wondering if somebody in the bleachers lit off firecrackers to celebrate the end of the most excitement Maynard is bound to see for awhile.

No. I should've recognized the noise sooner.

How many times have I heard it on those war documentaries John watches when he's home?

“Holy shit!” A couple dozen guys behind the fence scream in unison, before they take off running, starting the mass panic as everyone leaves the field.

The gun in Scourge's hand leaves no room for doubt about what I heard. Blood drains from my face, and I run my hands over my waist, checking to make sure I haven't been shot in the shock.

Not yet, thank Christ.

“What the fuck? You said no weapons,” I whisper.

“Fuck you and your little rules, Randolph. You're dead.” He fires three more times.

I go down, hit the ground, trying to claw my way through the pavement and failing. There's nowhere to run. Somehow, I remember it's important to keep moving. I lunge toward him with my head down. He wasn't as far as I'd feared.

He's also an incredibly bad shot. Seems like he empties half a clip, maybe more, none of the bullets finding their mark in my flesh.

My eyes are closed when I grab his knees, throw my weight into him, and scream like a maniac as the gun goes off again. This time, it's right next to my ear, a few inches away from ending me.

It's life or death now. I sink my teeth into his hand, desperate to pry the gun out, kicking him as hard as I can. The asshole won't stop moving, flinging his hand into my face, trying to point the gun just right so it digs into my temple.

“No!” It's the last sound I make before another bullet explodes next to me. I know I'm still alive because I sense movement, his arm giving way as I twist it back toward him.

No arm wrestling match has ever meant so much. If I can just get the gun away, knock it out of his hand and away from his face, I just might be able to –

Everything explodes as it goes off again. He isn't fighting anymore. He's suddenly very, very weak.

What the hell? That's the question I keep asking myself as I struggle to my knees, stare down at Alex Palkovich slumping over, and see the raw gouge where the right side of his face used to be.

It finally makes sense.

I'm alive. He isn't.

I've accidentally fucking killed a man.

* * *

Hell was only starting. I don't know how long I curled up on the ground, shocked and horrified, covering my eyes because I couldn't stand looking at the blood anymore.

Then came the sirens, loud and everywhere, and two big cops grabbing my arms. They pushed my hands together, locked the cold steel around them, and shoved me to my feet without any words.

Maddie was on the curb before they loaded me in the squad car. I'll never forget her words, her tears, the frenzied regret gushing from her throat like a howling wolf. I watched her fall, slapping the pavement with her hands, dark hair a frazzled mess laying over her rose speckled dress, and just as beautiful as ever.

“Wait, wait! Don't take him away. Please, you can't, this is wrong!” It has to be emotion pouring out. The cops aren't listening to her young reasoning after I murdered a man.

She realizes it after a few frenzied seconds. Then her eyes turn to me, big and pleading, alive with more love and desperation than I've ever seen on another human being. “It's not over, Cal. It can't end like this. I'll be here. I'll do anything to help. Anything!”

Poetic words and promises don't slow down the officer in the driver's seat. Last look I get, I see her crying harder, mouthing something I can barely hear over the distance growing between us. But it's louder than my own dying pulse in my ears.

“I'll never forget this, Cal. Just wait. I'll never, ever let you down!”

And she never did.

* * *

Everything else is a blur after my intake behind bars. And juvy is the biggest reprieve I'm given. If I'd come from the wrong side of the tracks instead of a billionaire family, I'd have probably gone straight to adult jail, heaped in with hardened cons and killers.

Some days in here, I wonder if it's what I deserve.

I remember seeing dad's brutal disappointment the first time he sat across the table in the visiting area. John was there, too, sent home on emergency leave to help my parents cope with my fatal fuck up. It was the last time I'd see my brother alive.

“Hang the fuck in there, bro,” John tells me, reaching across the table to grip my hand. “You'll be out by the time I come home again. We'll run to Pike's Place and pick up fish to fry. Celebrate your homecoming, and mine. Give everybody who said you were finished the middle finger.”

“Johnathon, please. Language.” Dad wags his finger, giving me a sour look. He doesn't completely hate me yet. He has his favorite, sure, and as long as John meets expectations, he'll tolerate having a murderer for a son.

“Aw, dad, come on. We need to build him up. Give the kid something to live for while he's in this miserable fucking place, and a future once he's home. Sorry.” John adds the apology almost as an afterthought, when our father's eyes won't get off him.

I smile for the first time since I wound up in here. Maybe the next three years in here won't destroy me.

“Appreciate the encouragement.” I say, slapping his hand. The clock overhead tells us our time is running out, leaving me to another evening doing laundry in the hot, grimy warehouse-like atmosphere in the facility's basement. “We'll have our fish fry.”

“Hell yeah, we will, little bro. Just stay strong. Listen to the guards. Listen to me and dad, too. You'll make it. Time heals all. Give it a few years, and this'll all be just a bad memory.”

His words are prophetic.

Over the next few months, I manage.

Lawyers work their magic, chipping away at my sentence. Months, and then more than a year are shaved off. My parents throw money at the firm like strippers. It helps. Their expertise and the lenient state laws reduce me to a year in juvenile detention on involuntary manslaughter when it's done.

I finish my diploma a month later, handwriting my answers to the final exam, wearing an orange jumpsuit, wondering why the fuck I'm bothering if no good college will accept me with a felony record.

Maddie's final tears haunt me through the year I spend in prison after the plea deal. Her letters keep me company, tell me this wasn't for nothing, that there's still somebody who cares on the outside, despite the gruesome mistakes.

Assholes are everywhere. I have to work twice as hard as the ordinary inmate to stay safe, since they know my family's kid. They discover fast I'm not easy prey after a few fist fights. The black roses I adopt in ink help round out my hard ass creed, and so does the lifting, bulking young muscle to masculine perfection.

Of course, the rose tattoos aren't for the deranged shits I deal with in jail. They're for her, always her, and I carry them around like a dirty secret after I promise I'll never reply to any of Maddie's letters.

I exit juvy a different man, resigned to my fate. Too resigned, maybe, because my black heart almost expects John's death when it hits, shredding what little chance at normalcy and rehabilitation I ever had.

My brother dies a hero. My father's conscience goes with him on a rugged hill in Afghanistan.

It makes a fucked up situation irredeemable.

I can't believe he's gone.

John, I miss like the part of my soul I lost for her, killing that piece of shit behind Maynard. Losing him makes me wonder if John dying is some fucked up sense of karma, coming to collect for what I've done.

I learn to close myself off after the funeral. Just focus on business, even when Cade and Spence reach out to me, offering to show me the ropes at the family firm I should've worked at already for years.

Closed. That's my heart, soul, and mind.

Incredible it took a fake engagement and my old man's funeral to make me open them again.

Worst part is, it hasn't changed a fucking thing. Not if Alex Palkovich succeeds in gutting me like his son never did.

It's all for nothing if I can't save my girl a second time.

* * *

Listen to me and dad. I can't pin down why those words from John echo louder than any others until it hits heavy in my mind.

One memory strikes another, hot fusion filling my brain. Eureka.

Next thing I know, I'm shaking Spence's damaged seat, yelling in his ear. “Turn the car around! Take me to the terminal. I've got to get the fuck over to that storage place on Bainbridge.”

“Bainbridge? What –“

“Spence, just do it. Trust me. I'll buy you a whole new car, whatever the hell you want, when this is through. Help me.”

I've stretched my friend's patience thin, but he doesn't just turn me loose when we're at the ferry terminal. He drives his car onto the ship, and we cruise across the Sound together, silent brotherly support at my side.

When we're on the island, we drive straight up it to the storage facility with dad's stuff. I've let the cleaners and realtors work like a whirlwind since his funeral. The mansion is gutted, empty except for the essentials, several prospective buyers mulling offers.

Spence helps me open the small hanger-sized unit containing the old stuff I plan to auction off at an estate sale in a few weeks. Everything except the files in the 'keep' corner, which I haven't had time to go through yet.

“Come on, man. You really think we've got time to find anything in that heap?” Spence asks, as soon as he sees the small library there is to sift through.

“Dad left something behind to help. He told me to my face before he died,” I say, remembering the old man's words.

His doubt doesn't slow my hands. I flip through old faded folders and tabs with chicken scratch like a man on a mission. Spence sets to work on the other side after awhile, knowing this will go a hell of a lot faster if we both hit it. We're in the thick of it for over an hour before I have to rest, before I stop myself from flinging the trash I'm finding to the winds.

Where the fuck is it? There has to be something about Palkovich here. Dad was notorious for keeping tabs on his enemies, crafting back up plans and last resorts. He couldn't do much to the bastard councilman in life, but now that he doesn't have a reputation or a company to worry him...

“Hey, don't puss out yet. This looks recent,” Spence says, holding up a grey stack of folders pulled from a separate box. I run over, just in time for him to hiss through his teeth, flipping through the thick pages. “Jesus. Palky's dirtier than we thought, or your old man got his whole life story before he passed.”

I rip the papers out of his hands. Spence gives me an annoyed look I ignore, too busy drilling my eyes into our discovery.

It's too much to read in one night, but what I see is plenty. I flip through it, remembering how to smile. There are so many words, so many records, so many ways to bend this evil asshole over.

Swiss banks. Embezzlement. Fraud. Campaign slush fund.

Blackmail. Cryptography. DDOS attacks.

I'm not technical enough to know what all the jargon is in some of these reports. But I recognize the companies he's hit. The attacks were all over the local news. Dad's list tells me he's been doing it for at least the last five years.

Last campaign season, Palkovich's opponent went down hard, his goofy nudes conveniently hacked off his phone and dropped for public mockery just days before the election.

There's also money going everywhere. I see copied checks and ledgers written out to motorcycle gangs, mafias, and an alphabet soup of sketchy groups overseas, including a few wire transfers to Chinese investment firms I'm fairly certain don't really exist.

“Damn,” Spence whispers for the second time behind me, standing over my shoulder, his arms folded. “Your old man didn't leave a fucking stone unturned. We've got him.”

“By the balls,” I whisper, secretly wondering how long my father compiled this information, and sat on it. What's here had to have taken months, well before I ever tried to sell him on my fake engagement.

Was his sour, unforgiving bullshit just an act from the time I brought Maddie to meet him that day? Hell, maybe longer?

I don't know.

Don't particularly care.

There isn't any time for the big questions until she's free.

“Come on. We've got fifteen minutes before the next ferry,” I tell Spence, throwing the files into a box and heading for his car. I save my questions until the ship pulls up, just minutes away from opening its gates for the tiny trickle of cars stacked behind us, waiting to board for Seattle.

“Where's Palkovich due next?”

Spence does a slow turn, his eyes wide. “Cal, we're going to the police with everything we've gathered here. Don't tell me you're asking because you want to...fuck.”

He knows. We both do.

“You know it'll take time to turn this shit over to an investigator. I'm not letting my woman sit in a damned cell while the officials sort it out.”

Spence looks at the clock on his dashboard, tapping it once. “Considering it's after midnight, there's nowhere the man ought to be except home.”

“Then it's time we paid him a visit.” I slap him on the shoulder, giving it a brotherly squeeze. “You're a good man, braving the fire with me. Whatever happens tonight, rest easy. You're not getting burned.”

“I'd better have your word on that. Can not fucking believe I'm considering this.” His lips are still twisted in doubt as we drive onto the ferry.

There's a solid half hour or more to reconsider before we're back in the city. But when Spence heads toward the ritzy ocean front neighborhoods, I know he'll never let me down. Someday, somehow I'll repay him big.

* * *

I'm scaling a goddamned vine, just like in an action movie or something. It's been thirty minutes since we pulled up as close to the Palkovich place as we can possibly get without alerting his security detail.

He's got a gate, a guard shack, and a few guys in dark camo patrolling the perimeter. It's more than my old man had, despite less need for it among Bainbridge's everlasting peace and quiet. Also far more elaborate security than a jackoff city councilman who inherited a few million should be able to afford.

Spence helps me over the fence, and we run for the back of the mansion, staggering through an overgrown garden area. It's too fucking noisy on our way inside. A small miracle we don't trip any cameras, sensors, or men with dogs. I've stuffed several pages from the files we recovered into the pocket of my suit, enough to make a threat, assuming he doesn't have us arrested at first glance for trespassing.

It's another miracle we make it onto the balcony. Spence scuttles behind me, and I pull him over the ledge. Then we creep to the huge French doors, stooped over, peering inside. It's easy to see the master bedroom through the glass. There's a dim light on inside, a lone figure propped up in the bed, reading on a glowing tablet screen.

I instantly recognize the asshole who got away just hours ago. My hand reaches for my pocket, the one without the papers, clenching the big, smooth rock I picked up from his landscaped garden.

Spence gives me a look. “Ready?”

“No. But it's not like we've got another choice.” Smashing the stone into his thick glass door is almost as satisfying as driving my fist into the asshole's jaw.

There's a noise like the world shattering, and we leap in through the opening, careful not to get cut on any jagged edges still clinging to the frame. The councilman is on his feet, staring in disbelief, his face whiter than the permanent frost on Mount Rainier.

“You again!” Palkovich growls, as soon as I'm in his face. “I knew you'd learned nothing from the parking garage. Simple-minded thuggery is all you know, you cowardly little –“

I cut him off, wrapping my hands around his throat, hoisting him high.

“Cal, no!” Spence yells, but I ignore him, slamming the monster who's got my girl locked away into his handcrafted wooden wall. One of the brittle panels splits. “We need him in one piece.”

“I'll show you simple-minded thuggery, asshole,” I whisper. My lungs are lava. Two flesh bags gone volcanic, and it's impossible to keep them from exploding. I make a bigger mistake when I peer into my enemy's eyes.

The fear I'm hoping to see on the Senior Palkovich isn't there. It's raw, arrogant hate.

Spence may be right about our need to keep this miserable creep intact, but I don't know how to do it.

“Show me, Randolph. Go ahead, skin me alive in my own home. I'll have you locked up for life, just like the bitch who got my son killed. You'll never see her again.”

“You'll die behind bars one way or another. Same fate that always should've belonged to your screwed up son.” A brutal hurt sparks in his eyes when I mention Alex Jr. I fucking love it.

But I don't want to kill again.

Not by accident. Not by intent. Not even if the jackass in front of me with my hands around his throat fully deserves it.

“You have no leverage. What did you hope to achieve, barging in here like this?” he asks, defiant as ever. His arms tremble, the fight burning through him, but he's too small, too weak, to lift a single finger of mine off him. “Go ahead, do what you will. Make my broken corpse the evidence this city needs to lock you away like the rabid animal you are, Randolph.”

“Cal, don't. Let him breathe. Please, brother.“ Spence is next to me, his eyes pleading, one more reminder the monster who's neck I want to snap is speaking nothing but the truth.

“Find it out of my pocket, Spence. Show this fuckwit the truth.” I wait while my friend does as he's told, retrieving the documents, one of many silver bullets we've got locked and loaded.

“Please,” Palkovich spits, rolling his eyes when he sees the paper. “Do you really think I'll be strong armed into whatever impotent threat you've brought from your lawyer? You're an even bigger fool than I –“

“Shut the fuck up.” My fingers press into his throat, making him think twice about trying to talk while Spence holds the paper close. “Just read.”

I watch the bastard's eyes move over the paper. His face turns red, and then white, the resistance in his eyes sinking like a drowning insect. It's miraculous I keep the same steady hold, letting his defeat soak through him, without doing the world a favor by wringing the life from his bones.

Spence is right. I can't kill him. I can't even fuck him up like I want.

Not if I want doll back in my arms ASAP.

“Shit, Cal, let him talk already. He's had enough time to read it,” Spence says, squeezing my shoulder.

I release Palkovich, and let his feet hit the floor. He's gasping, backing toward his bed slowly, less from my hands than the headlong panic setting in.

“You going to come with us peacefully, or do we have to drag you?” I ask, flexing my fists at my side. They hope like nothing else he'll give them good reason to do the second option.

“Do the smart thing, Palky,” Spence says, carefully positioning himself between us. “We covered our bases. Sent copies of these pages to friends. They've got orders to turn it over to the Seattle police if there's no word from us in a few more hours. Fucking with us here won't save you. It'll just make this worse.”

Thank God for Cade. The texts we sent him are insurance. Just in case the stubborn fuck in front of us with his vicious eyes and frazzled silver hair doesn't play nice.

“You can't do this to me,” he says, backing into his nightstand. I watch the old man's hand wrap around a small gold reading lamp, lifting it like a dagger behind his back. “You can't put me away! You know who I am! Do you have any clue how many goddamned years I worked to avenge my son? How long I waited to bury you, destroy her, butcher everyone who had a hand in his murder?”

“You waited too long,” I say, stepping up. “And I mean seven fucking years too late. Alex Jr. would be here today if he hadn't brought a gun to a fistfight between stupid kids. Things got out of hand, and I paid the price. Never meant to kill him. The time to save your bully son was years ago, and you missed it.”

No more fucking around. He pulls the lamp from the wall and swings it at my face, easily missing. A wounded animal sound escapes his lips when I knock it out of his hand, snatching it off the ground before he can try a second time.

It's heavier than I thought. Perfect for caving his skull in, if I really want to.

“No, no, you idiot...you can't do this. You can't...oh, Alex!” He doubles over, knees breaking his fall. I watch the asshole collapse next to his bed, his shadow twitching as he weeps.

Then I notice mine next to it.

It's scary how much I look like the monster, hovering over him with a weight in my hand that could easily end him. There's also something I never, ever expected – a hideous sympathy for this broken demon on the ground next to me, grieving his lost son.

I didn't ask for this shit. I hate it even more that I still have a soul, and maybe he does, too.

“This is insane. I'm calling the cops.” Spence comes up next to me, brushing his hand against the lamp. He's trying to get it away from me before I do something incredibly stupid.

I rip it away, pass it to my other hand, and give him a dirty look. “No. He's still got his guards out there. We don't need more confusion, or anybody else getting hurt.”

I let go. The lamp hits the floor with a heavy thud, and I'm down on my knees next to this pile of human hate, clutching at his shoulders. “Give up. Come with us to the station. Confess, and do your time. You've lived a shitty life, councilman. Someone has to pay. Honor your son, your family, by doing the right thing for once in your life.”

“You lecture me about...morals? What the hell do you know, killer?” He stiffens in my grip, but he isn't fighting anymore.

What do I know? I close my eyes for a split second, and wonder.

I see Maddie in my head. Feel the love that's always caused me grief, but never any regret.

For her, I'd do it all again, except better. I wouldn't betray her. Wouldn't hold my secrets so close, waiting for them to slip and come down on us like an avalanche. Definitely wouldn't wait so many years to clear my name, delaying what we were always meant for, and what we're still bound to become in the deepest part of our hearts.

“I've faced my mistakes, Alex. That's what I know,” I tell him, looking square into his cold, judging eyes. “I've confronted them, paid their toll, and made some new ones along the way. It's not too late for you. There's always time to –“

“Just get the hell off me,” he growls, pushing my hands away. Spence reaches out cautiously, helping him up, while I get on my feet. One more look, and I see the change in his eyes, before the words are even out of his mouth. “I'll go. I'll give them a statement. It's not like there's any other choice. I'd rather spend the rest of my life behind bars than suffer another minute of this.”

I don't know what's come over him. We're suspicious when he grabs his robe and we lead him out. But he has his guards stand down as soon as they see him crossing the estate grounds. He gets into Spence's car, and doesn't say a word until we're helping him into the police station.

I think he's accepted his fate. And I've accepted mine.

Now, I just have to convince Maddie how sorry I am for tearing her heart out a second time with my silence. I'll spend my whole life chasing her, too, if it means I finally get the I do I've waited my whole life to hear.