I rolled over, still half asleep and glanced at the clock.

For a minute, I panicked, jerking upright, my sluggish brain telling me I was late for work.

Then reality caught up with me.

My entire work schedule was off because of the holidays, covering for the more senior staff who’d wanted off for Christmas or New Year’s Day, working a couple of extra shifts and having a few extra days off during the week.

Including today.

It was already ten o’clock, but I was still tired, so I rolled onto my belly and shoved my face into my pillow.

Right as I was drifting back into that sweet twilight between wakefulness and sleep, my cell phone rang.

Groaning, I picked it up.

If it was the hospital, I wasn’t answering. I was too damn worn out. But the number on the screen was Isabel’s.

I almost didn’t answer anyway, but remembering how she’d felt last night, I decided maybe I should. Rolling onto my back, I swiped my thumb across the screen. “Hey, Isabel. You feeling any better?”

“Sounds like I woke you up. And actually, a little. I…um…I had Sean stop at an open pharmacy, and I got some of those ginger pops. Fortunately, he’s still kind of oblivious.”

I felt guilty, knowing something so important my brother didn’t. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I asked, “Why haven’t you told him?”

“I…” She hesitated, then huffed out a breath. “I wasn’t really even sure until you mentioned it. It’s not like I have regular periods.”

Frowning, I sat up. The blanket and sheets puddled around my waist, and the cool air had goosebumps breaking out across my bare flesh. The skimpy camisole and panties I’d worn to bed had been perfectly fine while I was under the covers pressed up against Cormac, but he wasn’t in bed with me now. I climbed out of bed. “Hold on a minute, Iz.”

I checked the bathroom because I didn’t want to have this conversation where anybody might overhear me. He wasn’t in the bathroom, and a quick peek out the front window told me that his car was gone.

“You weren’t sure. Does this mean you haven’t taken a pregnancy test?” I asked before settling back on the bed.

“I…ah…” She stammered for a few moments, then finally huffed out an annoyed breath. “Well, no. Like I said, I wasn’t sure.”

“That’s why you take tests, Iz. This is kind of something you want to be sure about. You need to be on vitamins and stuff.”

“I already take them,” she told me. “I have to. I’m anemic because I just don’t get enough iron in my diet, being a dancer and having to watch my weight and all.”

“All the more reason you need to know,” I told her gently. Rubbing my temple, I sat back on the bed and pulled the blankets up around me. “And you don’t need to be sure before you tell Sean…unless you’re worried about what he’ll say.”

“It’s not that.” She hesitated before adding, “Not exactly. This just happened so fast, you know. We haven’t even been married a year. I’m only twenty-two, Briar. I don’t know how to be a mom.”

“I don’t think anybody does until they actually become a mom. Look…you need to take a test and find out for sure. And you need to talk to Sean. He should know.”

“Yeah.” Isabel sounded despondent. “I know. Really, I was going to pick up a test and talk to him last night, but while we were driving to the drugstore, Declan called and…”

I waited, sensing the edge in her voice.

“What did Declan want, Isabel?”

“You know, Sean will throttle me for talking to you about this. Do any of them realize you’ve gone and figured them out?”

The question was such a sharp deviation from what we’d been talking about that it knocked me off balance for a few seconds. Tension crept up my neck, settling there in a way that assured me I’d have a headache very shortly. I didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. It was obvious.

I had to clear my throat before I could speak, and even then, my voice was faint, tight with strain. “Brooks knows.”

“Nobody else?”

“Apparently you know,” I retorted, annoyed now. “He might have mentioned it to Daria. Probably has. He won’t be the one to mention it to anybody else, though. You know Sean. He sucks at keeping stuff quiet from Dad and Declan. And both of them still have this idea in their heads that I’m the pampered princess who must be protected.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I know that feeling.”

A sense of kinship rose up in me. “The two of us have that much in common, don’t we?”

“Guess so.”

Silence stretched out, shattering into splinters when Isabel cleared her throat, then laughed. The sound was awkward and uneasy, and I knew I wasn’t the only one left feeling on edge as the sound faded. “Anyway, as I was saying…I was going to tell Sean, but then Declan called. I guess none of them called you, but somebody broke into a liquor store in Northern Liberties…Sean...well, he…um…he mentioned the owner and your dad were friends. Mentioned that you did a lot of shopping there.”

The bottom of my stomach dropped out.

“Are you talking about Franco’s?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was softer now. “He said Brooks would probably talk to you, but…”

“But what?” I demanded. Isabel stayed quiet, clearly troubled by something. “Spit it out!” I was shouting now, but I couldn’t seem to stop it.

“The owner’s dead,” she said quietly.

I felt sick. Pressing the heel of my hand to my temple, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. But just as I managed to gain my feet, the strength drained out of me. “Isabel…why…I mean…I didn’t even know Dad knew Frankie. Are you sure? Why are you calling me about this?”

“Your dad was Frankie’s silent partner,” she said, her voice subdued. “I don’t know all the details, but Sean said Frankie helped him out with…storage and stuff.”

“Storage.” I felt cold inside. “You mean weapons, don’t you?”

Her answer was so quiet, I barely caught it. “Probably.”

Blood roared in my ears, and I felt sick.

Frankie.

An image of his broad, friendly face flashed in front of my eyes. And he stored weapons? My father’s weapons?

I cleared my throat. “What happened? Does anybody know? Was he robbed?”

“No.” Isabel’s voice sounded more guarded now. “Look, maybe I…Brooks will probably give you a call. I should have just minded my own business—”

“If you hang up this phone, I’m getting in my car and driving over there,” I told her. “And if you don’t talk to me, then I’ll track down Sean, Brooks, Declan, or my dad. Somebody will talk to me.”

She sighed, the sound defeated. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

I quietened my tone. “What’s going on, Isabel?”

“Sean was…” her voice hitched a little. “Sean and Declan were talking. They sounded convinced it was Marcos again. But it can’t be. My brother surely isn’t running around causing trouble again. I know it’s not him. He’s got cops dropping in on him, and he has all these random appointments he has to make…it can’t be him.”

There was an edge of near desperation in her voice, but I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince me…or herself.

Before I could figure out what to say, she blurted out, “It could be somebody else trying to move in on your dad and brothers, Briar. I mean, your dad holds his own, but he’s not power-hungry like some people are.”

There were words unspoken there, and I couldn’t help but wonder just who she meant.

“Just say what it is you want to say, Isabel.”

“I’m not…I mean…” She sputtered. But finally, she blurted out, “I’m just wondering if it could be somebody else, you know? It’s not like there hasn’t been somebody new around. Maybe there’s been somebody digging into the Downings, and nobody realized it.”

My hand tightened on the phone. “Isabel…”

“You know I don’t trust him,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. “I mean, I’ve known you how long now? And you’ve never dated. Then all of a sudden this guy shows up, and you’re head over heels.”

“And you suggest I sold my family out?” I demanded.

“No!” Intensity colored her words.

It didn’t do much to ease the ache in me, though.

“No, I don’t mean that. But…Briar, Cormac came at you from out of nowhere, and all of a sudden, he’s coming to the house and making nice with your dad and your brothers, and I see him nosing around the house…”

“When did you see that?”

“Briar…” Suddenly, she was the one talking in a calm, almost logical voice.

I had no idea why but now I was the one feeling defensive. “Come on,” I said belligerently, although my mind was already spinning back to the moment when I walked in on him. He’d been staring at the wall where my father kept some prized weapons, all of them antique. He’d acted perfectly fine. But I’d still had a weird feeling in my gut, and now that Isabel was asking, that sensation was back—tenfold. “Come on, Isabel. Just say what you want to say.”

She didn’t say anything. Not for a long moment. She was quiet so long, I almost would have thought she’d hung up—although I didn’t want her to hang up. Already the silence was filled with Jerrel’s voice, icy and derisive as he told me that Cormac worked for the Castellanos.

“I don’t want to say anything, Briar,” she said, exhaustion in her voice. “I just…something’s not right with him. I look at him, and I feel it. And all this mess now happening with your dad’s business.”

“Maybe you’re just looking to blame somebody other than your brother,” I fired off. “I mean, come on. Marcos has already gone after my family once. Maybe you’re making this shit up about Cormac so nobody goes looking at Marcos twice.”

She sucked in a breath. “That’s not fair.”

Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t fair. The past few months had changed Isabel, dampened the light in her eyes, and now that I knew more about what had happened between Marcos, Brooks, and Daria, I understood just why so much of that bright, happy laughter had faded. Some part of me shriveled up and died over what I’d just done.

I wanted to take it back, but before I could, Isabel cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have called. I just…” She sniffed. “I don’t know. I keep coming back to Cormac, and my gut keeps telling me there’s more going on with him than what he’s telling you. But maybe I’m wrong. I hope I am. Sorry for bothering you.”

She hung up before I had a chance to even apologize.

Lowering the phone, I stared at the screen until it slowly went dark. A fragmented thought formed, then drifted away. Apologize. I should apologize.

But I couldn’t even summon up the motivation it took to open my messenger app and send my sister-in-law a text.

Falling backward onto the bed, I rolled onto my side and curled my knees into my chest.

Tears burned my eyes as I thought about Frankie.

It was bad enough to learn that the sweet man was connected in a sordid way to my father, but what if she was right about everything else?

What if Cormac somehow was tied into this?

What if he’d lied to me?

I didn’t want to think about it, but in a bitter, twisted way, there was a sense to it all.

Marcos was a mean bastard. I’d known that from the minute I met him. He was a petty man who wouldn’t take it lightly if he was humiliated, and he had been humiliated when Brooks and Daria came out on top. I hadn’t taken anything more than the standard psych courses all doctors were required to take, but I could still understand the basics.

When a narcissistic, mean bastard like Marcos was humiliated or beaten—even in his mind—by somebody else, he was going to strike back.

Was that what this was?

I wracked my brain, hoping to find some way of convincing myself that wasn’t the case.

And I couldn’t.