The world went from soft and lovely to hard and ugly in the span of a heartbeat. One moment she was in Cade’s arms, their kiss a clear sign they were both ready to explore their future, and the next, her past had climbed out of the sewer, prepared to attack her.

Cade had gone very still, his arm crossing her body as he used a firm hand to press her behind him. “Barrow.”

“I’ve got no complaint with you.”

“I sure as hell have one with you,” Cade shot back. “Harassment. Breaking parole. How the hell did you get out?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Nothing wrong?

Jasmine nearly gasped at the sheer magnitude of his words. She knew Barrow was violent—his visits with his daughter had been limited because he’d abused his ex-wife and child—but to stand there and act as if he hadn’t yelled those vile things at her or touched her in such an intimate, filthy, violating way?

What was he?

And what circumstances possibly made such an animal?

“You verbally and sexually assaulted me.” The words were stiff and formal, but Jasmine took heart that there wasn’t even a hint of quavering in her voice. She would do this. Would stare down her attacker and stand for her own worth.

“I did not.”

“You touched me.”

“You asked me to. Thinking you could get something outta me if you crawled up a notch.”

Cade practically quivered as he stood there, and Jasmine settled a hand on his waist, holding him still. Barrow saw it, his already beady eyes narrowing as a sneer filled his lips. “Clearly you’re still doing it, trying to trap another white man.”

She’d known from the start of her career that working in the legal system—in the public defender’s office, no less—would expose her to some of the worst aspects of human nature. Even with all she’d seen and the knowledge of what she would still see, Barrow’s words struck like bullets.

Did he actually see the world that way?

One look in his cold gaze and she knew with certainty that he saw the world exactly that way.

She wasn’t immune to the realities of life as a black woman. She’d lived nearly thirty years understanding there were subtle lines of demarcation in the world and where she was expected to stand. With her parents’ support, she’d fought it where she could. She’d also been fortunate to have a bigger support system who saw her for exactly who she was, and who believed in her.

Daphne Rossi and her family sat at the top of that list.

But to stand there and be so summarily dismissed—worse, to be assumed to be somehow less—stung more than she could even begin to process.

He’d assaulted her in the worst way and seemed to suggest that his attention was something of an honor.

Fuck him.

“Whatever you think you are, the only thing you and this man have in common are skin color. You’re a sniveling piece of shit, and you’re a criminal.”

Barrow’s face grew red, his chest puffing up. She got the sense of a bull waiting to leap the way he shuffled his weight from foot to foot, but he held still, his gaze darting repeatedly to Cade.

Jasmine had nearly convinced herself that she’d waved that red flag a bit too hard when Barrow turned on his heels and ran.

Before she could even think to stop him, Cade followed.

* * *

Rage.

That lone emotion beat in Cade’s chest as he took off after his quarry. A raw bubbling cauldron of fury and a nearly animalistic desire to take the fucker down.

Cade had spent his adult life keeping a cool head and focusing on the need to do his job with level thinking. It did a cop no good to let adrenaline get the better of him, and he’d always been keenly aware of that fact.

But all he wanted to do was take Paul Barrow down and rip him apart.

He’d dared to touch Jasmine. To then speak of it as if it were nothing.

You touched me.

You asked me to.

Over and over, the words beat in his mind to the same cadence of his feet on the pavement. Barrow dodged and ducked around people and Cade did the same, determined he’d not lose the man like the night before. He trusted Jasmine was already calling in for help, and that the ruckus he made would draw the further attention of security.

But now. This moment.

Barrow was all his.

A hard cry went up as the man barreled his way straight into a woman with a large stroller. The woman had her child in her arms, and the lighter weight of the stroller without its precious cargo worked to Cade’s advantage. Barrow stumbled over the large conveyance, unable to untangle himself from the solid barrier.

Cade was on him in a moment. He slammed his man’s large body to the ground, immediately subduing Barrow’s arms before he could begin flailing or even attempt to get the upper hand. Cade was well aware cameras were being pulled out at that very moment, and he refused to end up getting the asshole let off on a technicality, but it was with sheer strength of will he didn’t slam the man’s head to the ground.

Repeatedly.

Barrow grunted, trying like hell to buck Cade off, but Cade stayed firm, unwilling to lose now that he was so close to sending the bastard back to prison.

“Get off me.”

“You have the right to remain—” Cade didn’t even finish the first line of the Miranda when Barrow began screaming, more vicious slurs falling from his lips.

Cade let him rant, pleased to know that at least ten cell phones captured the moment for posterity.

With patience he didn’t even begin feel, he started the Miranda again, his voice loud and steady as he read the man his rights. There was more bucking and screaming.

More vile, disgusting slurs.

“You think this makes you a man? You think your family would want to see you like this?”

The mention of the man’s family had him going still, the only thing that seemed to break through the mania. “My family is mine!”

“Yeah, you’ve proven that. The restraining orders in your file are proof of that.”

Barrow bucked once more, but Cade held on. He never engaged with the criminals he caught. Never pushed anything personal into doing his job. But this was different.

“You think you’re a man because you beat them into submission? Because you took the love of your wife and child and twisted it into something dark and ugly?”

That cold night in December filled his mind’s eye once more. The random stop off at Jasmine’s studio to offer to drive her home in the cold. The violent moment he’d walked into, with Jasmine pressed against the wall, Barrow breathing over her.

He’d thrown the man off her then, wrestling him into submission while barely holding himself back from doing more harm.

Could he let the monster go a second time?

Grip firm, he looked up to see Jasmine standing among the circle of people with phones. Even with the adrenaline and the confusion of the moment, he saw her so clearly, the figure she cut pulled out of the whole, almost like a picture.

He saw the tears that shimmered in her eyes. He saw the fear layered behind those tears. Most of all, he saw how that gaze pleaded with him to keep control. And then the security team was there, two beat cops in tow to take over. Cade removed himself from the man, shocked at the relief that beat beneath the adrenaline when he finally stepped away.

Dragging his badge from his back pocket, he showed it to one of the cops while another cop and the rest of security dealt with Barrow.

“Detective Rossi.” Any hint of suspicion fled from the beat cop’s eyes as he took in Cade’s badge. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Cade proceeded to prove it as he walked the cop through the details of Barrow’s parole violations that day as well as the prior evening. He further proved himself when he recited the man’s case file from memory, along with Emily Carmine’s cell phone.

“I’ve got what I need, Detective.”

Cade made note of the man’s badge and promised a follow-up statement from him and Jasmine for the file. It was only when he turned, Barrow’s ranting and shouting still filling the air, that Cade took his first breath of relief.

Only to have it catch in his chest, lodging there with blunt force.

Jaz stood to the side, her arms folded. The normal warmth that defined her—from her bright-eyed gaze to the smile she was usually unable to fully repress—was nowhere in sight. Instead, she looked like a woman shattered, buffeted against the horrible spray of insults that once again came from Paul Barrow’s direction.

The only thing he could think of was his need to get to her. How desperately he needed to pull her close and cover her ears and take away the hateful spew of venom. How he even more desperately needed her to understand that it was over.

When he finally reached her, he opened his arms and pulled her against his chest, burying his face in her neck. She was safe. And in that simple, satisfying knowledge, he knew something else.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure she stayed that way.

* * *

Jasmine fought the hot tears that clogged her throat and pricked the backs of her eyes. It was all over. Whatever nightmare had walked into her dance studio eight months ago, it had ended.

Cade had ended it. He’d kept her safe from the start and she had never been so grateful that he was in her life.

Slowly she came back to herself, the sounds of the crowd penetrating through the pounding thud of her heartbeat and the well of emotions that clogged her throat and seemed to clang in her ears. The cacophony of sensation receded, and once again the world seemed to take shape around her. The hum of the crowds. The subtle scent of the ocean, hanging heavy in the August afternoon. The warmth of Cade’s chest through the cotton of his T-shirt.

Jasmine let each sensation roll over her, grounding her to that place and time. Embedding her with the strength she needed to stand.

“Is he gone?”

“Soon.” Cade rubbed soothing circles over her back. “Aquarium security is standing guard, and the beat cops are getting ready to haul him in. Emily Carmine’s been called and will meet them at the precinct when they bring him in.”

“He’s going to be put away?”

“Without question. Between the further testimony of an NYPD detective and a member of the public defender’s office, as well as the view of about ten cameras capturing his behavior, he’s not going anywhere for a long time.”

“The things he said . . .”

“I know.” The circles grew wider, his palm firmer where he pressed against her back. “I wish I could take it away. I wish I could erase the ugliness.”

“He thinks like that.”

“He’s wrong.”

“But he thinks it. It’s real, Cade. And putting him in a cage doesn’t change that. It can’t change that.”

The happiness that had carried her through the afternoon faded. She’d believed herself past the events of December. Had somehow fooled herself into a strange sort of suspended animation that what had happened to her was a fluke. An aberration. Something she’d survived and had gotten past.

But as her legs shook and tears clogged her throat once more, Jasmine had to finally admit to herself that nothing had felt the same since that cold December night.

Paul Barrow had taken something from her, and she had no idea how she was going to get it back.

* * *

Cade had skipped the subway in favor of an Uber back to his place. She’d halfheartedly suggested she could go home, but he’d ignored her while punching in his address. The bag Daphne had brought to the precinct earlier held the clothing she’d changed out of for the trip to the aquarium, along with a pair of yoga pants and an old T-shirt. The moment she’d walked into Cade’s, she’d beelined for the bag, and the clothing that was as comfortable as an old blanket.

She’d have wrapped herself up in a blanket, too, if it wasn’t edging toward ninety-five degrees outside. Even with the window air-conditioner unit going full blast, the air was thick in Cade’s apartment when she came back into the living room and took a spot on the couch.

“Are you going to call your parents?”

“I will.”

Cade didn’t respond, but a dense quiet that seemed to compete with the heat hung over the room. He dropped into a large leather chair opposite the couch and reached for the remote.

“You think I should call them?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“My mother will just worry.”

“All part of the job description.”

She tucked her legs up under her as she curled deeper into the couch. “It’s useless. Everything’s over and Barrow’s put away.”

The strains of a Yankees game came from the TV on low volume, but it wasn’t enough to distract from Cade’s words. “You have a good relationship with your parents.”

“Of course I do.”

“So why are you so hesitant to talk to them about this? You wouldn’t go over there last night or today. Daphne says you barely talk about this.”

“Like I said, my mother will worry.”

And since when did he and Daphne gossip like a little hen party about her?

“My mother worries every day, but I still go to see her. In fact, when I’m on a large op, that’s usually when I visit the most. You went straight to your parents when you had that car accident two years ago.”

“That was no big deal.”

“You also spend a lot of time over there. Meals at least once a week. You and Daphne took Landon over to your parents’ to introduce them. So what gives?”

The quiet understanding she’d expected from him as the events of the day settled was nowhere to be found. Instead, he’d insisted on heading down this stupid path.

“Come on, Cade. You’re making a mountain out of nothing.”

“Am I?”

Once again, the air hung thick with more than summer heat.

Something dark edged up her throat to coat her tongue, but she held back. The thoughts that had dogged her since that cold night in December couldn’t be said. They shouldn’t be put into words.

Words made things true.

She was a lawyer, and she knew that better than most.

So she bit her tongue and said nothing.

With seeming resignation, Cade increased the volume on the TV as the announcer started screaming about a two-run homer. Jasmine watched the screen, half seeing the game, half lost in her own thoughts.

How dare he press her like this? And worse, act like he was some freaking shrink, probing for details that weren’t really there.

“Jasmine?”

“What?”

“I can see your lips moving.” A small smile edged his own lips. “Are you summing up for the jury or reciting the amendments of the Constitution in reverse order?”

The tease jabbed—hard—but it was his memory of the dumb exercise she’d taught herself in law school that had something snapping way down inside.

“Go to hell.”

“Jaz, come on.”

“No, you come on. You’ve been haranguing me since we walked in. Earlier too. If I don’t want to talk to my parents, it’s my business.”

“And as your friend, I’d like to know why. Especially because, as your friend, I know you have a good relationship with them.”

Friend?

The past few years had taught her that she was unable to resist leaping into a fight with him, no matter how hard she tried to stay calm and cool. But to pull the friend card? Had nothing changed this weekend?

Nothing at all?

“You sit there so smug, laughing at me.”

The smile vanished from his face faster than a baseball at the crack of a bat. With it, his easygoing lounge on the chair vanished as well, that large frame going on high alert. “I’m not laughing at you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Quit changing the subject. Why won’t you go to your parents?”

“Because I’m a fucking statistic! Just another black girl in the city, abused by a white man and written down in a criminal ledger somewhere. I don’t even matter enough for them to pay attention to his whereabouts on parole.”

She leaped off the couch, unable to sit still as it all poured out, the shame she’d carried for the past eight months.

“You think I want to see that in my mother’s face? In my father’s? To know their baby girl lived through that?”

“But you did live through it. You came out the other side. You beat him.”

“Yeah. Right. A man who thought I deserved what happened to me. Who thought it was somehow his right to touch and violate me.”

“He’s the criminal, Jaz. He’s the statistic, not you.”

“Easy for you to say. Big bad Cade Rossi. Nothing ruffles you. Nothing gets to you. Nothing can touch you!”

Cade stood at that, his hands immediately reaching for her shoulders, and he pulled her close. “You don’t think he’s right, do you? Tell me that you haven’t given the evil shit that asshole spewed even one moment of credence or thought?”

“How could I not?”

Shame burned low in her gut. She knew it was wrong. Knew the feelings and the dark thoughts that crowded her mind were wrong. She told herself over and over, as a member of the legal system, that what Barrow had done to her—or attempted to do—was wrong.

Yet she’d allowed the thoughts to take root. And now it was impossible to make them go away.

Or face the sadness she saw in her mother’s eyes.

“You underestimate your parents, and you underestimate yourself, if you think that asshole deserves even one moment of your time. I get being upset that he hurt you. And I understand the feelings of violation. But if you let him come between you and your family—” He broke off, clearly searching for something. “If you let him come between who you are and all the wonderful things that make you, you, you’ve let him win.”

“I don’t know, Cade.” The bluster and anger that had carried her faded, leaving her limp. “Maybe he did.”

“No. Paul Barrow didn’t win. And you’re not some statistic. Not some line in a ledger somewhere. You’re Jasmine Shane. You’re the daughter of Lynn and Percy Shane. You’re a damn fine lawyer. You’re a ballerina. You’re a friend. And you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not your damn friend?”

“Oh but you are. And whatever else we may be, at the core we’re friends. Very good friends.”

Before she could protest, or get upset, or even sink back into herself, he changed the playing field once more. With one firm hand cupped behind her head, Cade crushed his mouth to hers.