I open my eyes, blinking back a pounding headache. Everything looks dizzy, the entire world flipped on its axis. Probably why it takes an eternity to remember why I'm in this predicament, and who I'm in it with.

“Welcome back, Precious. Had me worried. Thought you'd never come out of it.” Trent's voice makes me wish I'd never woken up.

I stagger backwards – as best I can with the elevator tilted at a crazy angle. Rubbing my eyes, I try to make this go away. But he's still there, the same beautiful bastard, scary and unbelievable as a ghost.

He stands next to me in the crisp navy suit, a shade that matches his eyes, slightly more rumpled than before. My nose wrinkles.

It's remarkable how gorgeous a man can look and still turn my stomach.

“What's the matter? You ready to talk this out like grown ups?”

Ignoring him, I try to slink away, putting some distance between us, pulling myself up the crooked banister. Of course, it doesn't work.

My heels catch on the slanted angle. They can't hold my weight. I get three or four steps up before my hold on the floor-turned-wall gives way and I go careening right back into the devil's embrace.

He catches me without so much as a curse, pinning me tight in his huge arms. Typical Trent.

Typical and maddening.

God. Were his biceps always this big? I've either forgotten, or he's become an even buffer beast since the day he tried to turn my family to ash.

“Let go!” I snarl, beating at his shoulders, holding back my tears.

For once, I'm grateful for the anger. It stifles the headache and gives me a new reason to fight.

Tears are the last thing I want this animal to see. I can't be weak. Can't be vulnerable.

Can't do anything with him.

“Last warning, Trent. Whatever you're planning, I don't care. The second we're out of here, I'm calling the police. Turning you in.”

“Aw, shucks. Must feel pretty goddamn divine to ram that criminal thing home, right? I guess that's the new 'orphan boy' for you. Just like old times, Presh. I missed them.”

My heart sinks. The painful throb in my temples instantly doubles.

It's getting hard to see through the pain. Even harder to cling to any hope that I'll ever get a chance to spring the law on this prick.

“I can't believe you!” I whisper, peering through the darkness. It's hard to make out his face. There's nothing but the glittery lights of the city outside streaming through the glass.

A second later, everything is brushed in soft blue light. His phone.

My heartbeat doubles, wondering if it can get us out of this mess. His strong blue eyes hang on mine, silent. “Did you...”

“Sure did. I tried, Presh. Many, many times while you were out cold. Tried to see about getting you an ambulance for that blow to the head. Calls kept bouncing back. No connection. No reception in this shitty old building, or maybe it's just the shaft. So, we've got light, and nothing else. No help.” He pauses, cocking his head. “Hard to believe your bro wants to keep doing business here.”

I turn away, staring out the window, trying not to get sick staring too long at the Seattle skyline on its side. “Well, keep trying. It's our only chance. I'm sure the line on the emergency intercom got cut when this thing went sideways.”

“Brilliant. I'll drain the whole fucking battery so we have no power. Hey, and maybe if a lucky call goes through, you can turn me in like you promised. That's totally what I dragged myself up here for.”

I whip around, glaring as hard as I can at his shadowy face.

“Fuck you.” It just comes out, so harsh it scratches my throat.

He smiles, cool and slow. “Have to say, I think I like this sexy spitfire thing, darling. You're meaner than I remember. What the hell you been up to? What made you this way?”

“None of your business,” I snap. Every word out of his mouth just thickens the ice wall around my heart. “Why waste your breath? Our chances of touching the ground again in one piece aren't amazing, you know.”

“Yeah, you never were much for small talk, except when you wanted to blue ball me. Then you were an expert.” He smiles, so broad and knowing I want to send my palm crashing across his cheek.

“If you must know, I've been busy in eastern Washington the last few years. Hotels, inns, tourism.” I don't know why I'm telling him anything. It takes about half a second to regret it. “I wanted to get the hell away. Couldn't stay in Seattle. I wasn't as strong as Jace, not after you –”

“You, Amy Kay, an innkeeper?” He shakes his head, wearing a wicked grin. “Serving up breakfast in the morning for guests? Doing mountains of dirty linens? I can't imagine, Presh. Stop screwing around.”

“Owner, actually. I wear a lot of hats. It's good honest work that doesn't make me want to rip my hair out. Complete opposite of what I came back here for.”

“I've been busy, too. Cryptic Energies, maybe you've heard of it? I'm the CEO and founder.” Smugness shines through his eyes. I don't know why he wants my approval.

Maybe he just wants me to admit I gave him a second, a third, a thousandth thought after he took a sledgehammer to my heart. Well, good fucking luck.

He's not getting an inch from me. Let alone a mile.

“Am I supposed to be impressed? Guess the criminal record doesn't hurt much when you're the one doing the hiring...” I bite my tongue. If he wants to talk, then I'll make this as miserable as possible. “Congratulations, I guess. It's nice knowing you did something with the years you stole from us.”

Trent smiles. “You have no clue. I really mean that, Amy Kay. I had to fight like hell for everything I've got since running from this town. I was happy to stay away, keeping my hands and mind busy, but Jace owes me big time. I never forgot, Presh. Karma is a bitch, but sometimes, she needs a little help delivering her sucker punch.”

“My brother's an idiot, yeah. But he never torched us. Didn't stab us in the back when we least expected it. That was all you. He went along with your crap and almost got ruined!” My voice splinters, shaking. Trying to regain control isn't easy, but the last thing we need up here is a screaming match. “You, Trent Usher. Nobody else. Don't pretend you weren't the mastermind. I want to hear you admit it, just this once.”

“Yeah, about that...” He pauses, clears his throat, looking away. His eyes are fixed somewhere in the distance, probably the top of the Space Needle leaning unnaturally on the horizon. “Forget it. I'll leave you to find out the truth soon enough.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He turns, facing me again slowly. A new savage glint in his soft blue eyes makes my blood run cold. “Means I'm amazed how good you still look after all these years. Hell, Presh, you're like a nice ripe fruit. A forbidden apple that was already too damn tempting for your own good when we were kids.”

“And you're about to get yourself slapped. Not kidding.” Flattening my hands against his chest, I try to use his body for leverage to put a few extra inches between us. It doesn't work.

I'm just forced to feel those muscles I've tried like crazy to avoid. To escape. To forget.

He's all hard edges underneath his suit. Raw masculinity. Powerful and potent.

He's pure madness – all he ever could be – because just putting my hand on his stupid, sexy body eases the rage that should make me want to rip him apart.

This can't be happening. Trent freaking Usher is not making my body respond like this after six years hating every chasm of his soul.

“Relax, Presh. There's no time or interest playing catch up naked.” The bastard winks. “Hey, if you'd pull your mind out of the gutter for a second and stop groping me, maybe we could put our heads together and plot our way out of here. It's Jace I've got business with. Not you.”

“Jesus Christ, Trent. Any business involving you and my brother is mine, and I think you know it. Hell, who do you even think runs the firm now?”

He stares through me, shrugging. “I know who. He's the whole reason I'm here. Anything that's got his name on it is asking for a tactical nuke. I've brought a big one.” He nods toward the small briefcase in the corner.

I go quiet, my heartbeat quickening, wondering how insane he really is. “A bomb?”

He gives me a look that stops my heart. Oh, God, he's serious!

“Sure, Presh. Only the very best from Acme, designed by Wile E. Coyote himself. I'm totally about to piss away my reputation and the fortune I've made with the biggest energy company in the Pacific Northwest just to blow up this office. Genius.”

God, do I hate him.

So sarcastic. So merciless. So, so prone to bringing a deadly heat straight to my palm, and I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to control it, listening to his voice stringing me along.

“Can't blame me for wondering. Dad said you were no better than a common thug the day you left for Oregon. He thought long and hard about hiring guys to find you, Trent, especially after his campaign ran off the rails. But he was too afraid of getting Jace tied up in something that'd screw him up for years. You were lucky we left you alone.” I wish we hadn't.

He cocks his head, an amused smirk forming on his lips. That's how I know every word I'm speaking is wasted. This asshole enjoys my misery.

“You're clueless if you think I ever meant you or Maxwell or Ophelia any harm. Your family was good to me, Presh. Too damn good. So were you, right up to the bitter end. Whenever we get out of here, you have my word I won't let any of this sting your parents. I've done my homework. They were smart enough to disengage from everything before retirement, leaving the firm here in Jace's hands.”

“They didn't have a choice,” I tell him, slapping at his chest again. His hands fly up, swiftly seizing my wrists. I gasp, shaking off the shock a second later. “You're full of it like you always were. If you knew anything, you'd know mom isn't doing the greatest. Dad threw in the towel early to look after her once her knees gave out.”

“Shit.” His grip loosens. “That's a real shame, Presh. I'm sorry to hear it. Know how it goes with family. Ma's been dead for three years.”

I blink, bat my eyes because the news turns my bones to mush.

Martha Usher, his kindly old adopted mom, dead?

My lips fall open. I don't know what to say.

No words. He's done the impossible with this bomb he just dropped on my head, transforming into the boy he used to be right before my eyes. The one I trusted, who never would have ripped my heart out, until he did.

“I'm...really sorry, Trent. That's sad. She was an amazing woman.” I'm not exaggerating that part.

I try not to tear up, thinking how she used to serve us treats, always chasing after the pack of foster dogs she kept for an animal rescue place. It must have broken her to lose them. After they left town so abruptly, packing up their house and taking the dogs to other volunteers.

He lets go, turning away, eyes back on the glass behind my shoulder. “Yeah.”

Brutal silence hangs between us. Something hard and bitter forms in my throat. It shouldn't be there, so thick and painful, a blister grown fat off good times I swore I'd torn from my brain a long, long time ago.

“You can quit your crying, or second guessing, or whatever the fuck,” Trent says. When he looks at me again, his soft blue eyes are sharp as ice. “I said more than I should. Wasn't asking for sympathy. You've got every right to put walls between me and Jace. Hell, go ahead, waste your energy trying to talk me out of it, Presh. Give me one reason not to nail your brother's balls to his tongue. You won't, but you can try.”

I'm shaking my head. He can't be serious. What does he think this is – some twisted modern fairy tale? Where I can just talk my unwilling captor out of...whatever it is he plans to do?

This is a game. A sick one.

“You're insane,” I whisper. It's darker again with the sun long gone, the late night restaurants beginning to close up and turn out their lights. I think it's screwing with my body clock. Until now, I hadn't felt tired. Now, it's like lead drifting under my skin. Pulling me under.

We stare at each other across the small gap. My blood heats, even through this exhaustion, wondering how this nightmare ever ends.

I can't talk him out of anything. I won't even bother. Not with this mad man, knowing there's no point.

Only the law can put the brakes on, and it will, the second we're on flat earth again. I watch him turn his back, taking off his suit jacket, giving me a better view of what's underneath.

My hands were right, touching his chest. This Trent is more built than I remember. A mass of pent up muscle and hard angles under his subtle white oxford shirt, begging me to undress him with my eyes.

It ain't happening. Not here, not today, not ever.

“What're you staring at, Presh? See something you like? Something you loved the hell out of once upon a time, maybe?” He puts his hands together below the belt line – stretching, flexing, I'm not sure what.

I just know it can't take the edge off my anger and disgust. I can't let it. Because the second I do, just the tiniest amount, we're in uncharted territory. Wild territory full of wolves.

“Gross. Those times are so over.” I turn my nose up, releasing an exasperated sigh. “God, you're ridiculous. I'm not sure how we're ever supposed to work together to get off this stupid thing.” My hand slaps the wall. My frustration boils over.

Then I hear a sound that shouldn't be there. At first, I think I hit the wall too hard, vibrating my impact through metal.

But steel doesn't ring this sharp, this steady, this loud. My head whirls to the red phone below the control panel. It rings again, the small light under it flashing.

Holy. Freaking. Hell.

Trent's eyes turn mine to stone. The disbelief only lasts a second before we both pounce. He's fast, but I'm quicker, closer. The phone burns like a furnace against my ear.

“Hello? Hello?!” I'm slurring desperate words into the receiver.

The voice on the other end is like tin. Distorted. Small. But it's there. Maintenance or security knows there's been a mishap by now.

“Yes, please, we're stuck in here! Hello? West wing, probably between the fifteenth and twenty fifth floor. Send us help. Send it as soon as you can!” There's no indication if the person on the other end has a clue what I'm saying.

I look at Trent. He's standing there, an eerie calm written on his face, waiting for the hammer to drop.

Jesus, do I want to bring it down. I'm tempted to flat-out tell the man on the phone I'm in danger. Locked in this thing with a creepy stranger, who's bound to do something criminal. But the voice keeps coming back like static, too choppy to make out more than a few syllables.

I hear something like system outage, emergency, power, on their way.

“Did you get that? Do you hear me? Hello?!” My voice gets louder. So does the desperation.

But the distortion just gets worse, too, and then there's cold silence. “Hello? Hello? Hell-o?”

Trent comes closer, edging in behind me. I feel him against my shoulders. A rich cologne mingling with his scent encircles me. I'd try to hold my breath, but I've been doing that since this shouting match on the phone started, waiting for a clear reply.

“Keep trying. Just because you're getting nothing back doesn't mean they can't hear you,” he says, his voice a low earthquake in my ear. His hand falls against my shoulder. I barely hide the flinch. I can't hide the heat pulsing through my skin. “Tell them the truth, why don't you? I know you fucking want to turn me in. Tell them you're in here with a dangerous man. A criminal. A monster. Do it, Precious. Because if you don't hit me first for leaving you, it's gonna be Jace, right between the eyes.”

I look him dead in his bastard blue eyes. My hand trembles. The phone suddenly seems so heavy it'll tear my arm off.

Trent isn't kidding. It's a challenge.

Whatever wretched game he's playing, he wants to be done with this chapter involving us. Just as bad as I do.

“Give me one good fucking reason not to burn him down,” he growls. “Just one.”

Needles dance along my spine. This is it.

If I don't open my mouth and try to save my brother, my family, he'll destroy them. I know what he can do.

I lived it, seven horrid years ago, when I was young and stupid and actually thought I'd marry this man.