Grease wafts from the kitchen, and I inhale greedily. The smell takes me home, to my mom frying pancakes in bacon fat. The word beats inside like a mantra: home, home, home. I close my eyes and pretend I never left that studio, which was small but had everything I needed. I was dumb to believe it wasn’t enough.

My eyes fly open as the door chimes, admitting a father and his daughter. They’re not here yet. Good. I triple-check the phone in my jacket. One click of a button and it’ll record every word of our conversation. Gathering evidence is the next step toward fixing this mess.

The wedding is in a few days. On Saturday I’m signing away my life. If there ever was a match made in hell, we’re it. This role I’ll have to play—husband—is huge. It’s harder to take in than two cops fucking me over. I’ll marry a woman I don’t know, try for a baby, and then what? When the investigation is done, and she hates me for deceiving her—what then?

If I marry her, I’ll ruin her damn life. If I don’t, she’s an easy target for Adrián. Even if they marry and by some miracle, he doesn’t turn out to be a wife beater, he’ll get locked up.

My hands still ache. Adrián needed surgery to fix his jaw. Vito made me visit the piece of shit in the hospital. Shake hands with him. He accepted my apology and smiled as though I’d get my dues, the promise of murder burning in his eyes.

The door chimes again. My soul darkens when I see two familiar shapes edging inside. Their gaze sweeps the diner, zeroing in on me. Nothing’s changed, except Detective Carter wears his hair like an extra on Jersey Shore. I guess he’s taking the Douchebag look to heart.

The booth squeaks as Ritter and Carter squeeze in. They chose a coffee shop in the suburbs for this meeting. I don’t like it. All these windows. Too exposed. If the wrong person glances inside, they’ll see me having a powwow with two fucking cops.

“Good, you’re here,” Captain Ritter says. “Are you ready for this weekend, son?”

The way he talks, we’re going on a fucking fishing trip. I meet his red stare, my blood venomous with hatred. I could kill him for the position he’s forced me into. “I guess. You?”

He glances at Carter. “We’ve got agents filling in for the priest. The marriage certificate won’t be real. Everything will happen just like a real wedding, but it won’t be official.”

He says that as though it’s a comfort. “They find out it’s not—I’m dead.”

“We’re taking every precaution to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Ritter isn’t even bothering to keep his voice down. “Why the fuck should I believe that? You chose a place where anyone could see me. Every time I meet up with you, I’m risking my life.”

“What about Vito?” Carter interrupts. “Has he chosen a successor?”

I sneer at him. “Why should I tell you anything?”

Malevolence flashes over his face. “Because you’re our undercover, you dumb shit.”

“I’m not giving you information.”

Carter swells like a bullfrog. “The moment your cooperation ends, we pull the fucking plug. You get stuck on the streets forever with that ten thousand in your bank account and nothing else. Good luck with your lawyer fees.”

Ritter yanks him into the seat. “Calm. Down.”

“He hasn’t told us shit in weeks! We need something bigger. Tell us about his drug shipments and illegal gambling operations.”

“The fucking boss does not discuss business with or around me. He’s smart. He avoids anywhere he could be wired.”

Carter slams his fist on the table, rattling the ceramic plates. “So wear one!”

Heads in the café turn to stare at the noise.

I feel their stares like a burn on my face. Fucking moron. “Scream louder and maybe they’ll throw us out.”

He mutters something under his breath. After a few awkward seconds, the café returns to its regular commotion, and Carter fumes.

“No wires, ever,” I say. “I told you that weeks ago. It was part of our condition.”

Ritter sighs. “You don’t do as we say, we erase your file. We’ve been through this.”

They’ll do it anyway.

Air freezes in my lungs. “They still search me. I’ll die in five minutes of wearing one, and you won’t get whatever the hell you want from this.”

“Which is what?” Carter taunts.

The waitress stops at our table, beaming as she refills my coffee. “Can I get you boys something?”

Ritter waves her off without looking, and I clench my teeth as she storms toward the kitchen. “Finish your thought, son.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” It’s obvious at this point both of them are in the shit, and they’re using me. I need to get them to admit it. The phone will pick up every detail, and I’ll go to the department—or maybe a lawyer.

“Drug shipments,” Carter interrupts. “Have the Romanos moved any meth?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Why are you interested?”

Admit it.

The asshole sneers. “That’s for us to know.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Guess that might be hard to come by while you’re extorting a police officer.”

The captain stares at me, ill at ease. “It’s not a black and white world, Ethan.”

* * *

It’s too late.

Guests will fill the church soon. Bouquets of sweet-smelling roses line the pews. I’m wearing the tux. My best man, Henri, cracks jokes as we kill time in the rectory.

It feels real. Is that insane?

I picture Eva leaning over a vanity, dusting her cheeks with makeup. Won’t be long until we’re married, in our hotel room, and making a baby. Jesus Christ.

There’s a list a mile long of things I want to do to Eva. None of the filthy things I dreamed up come close to taking her raw. It’s not something I can make sense of, only that my skin burns for her and I think of my life with her more than getting myself out.

The audio files are stashed in the burner phone. Copies were emailed, uploaded to Dropbox, and transferred to several flash drives. They’re hidden in the house. If Carter and Ritter fuck me over, I’ll send a mass email to the department.

When I’m ready, I’ll rip their throats out.

Then what? What’s the plan after Eva finds the truth about you?

I haven’t thought of it. She’ll be furious, but what choice did I have? I could’ve abandoned her to the dogs sniffing around Vito’s legs for scraps of power. One of them, possibly Adrián, would’ve had her. I couldn’t live with myself.

And I don’t want them to have her.

Henri pours a glass of whiskey and drains it. He pours a second glass and hands it to me. “Here. You need it.”

I close my eyes and raise the drink to my lips. I toss it back. The burn sears my throat. “Jesus.”

“That’s the spirit!” Henri slaps my shoulder, taking my silence for nerves. “You’ll learn to like it, Bastien. We all do.”

I need to see Eva. Now.

Maybe it’s nerves, but I want to make sure she wants this. I can’t stand the idea of her regretting this. Henri stares as I stand and head for the front door.

I need to hear it from her one last time to be sure. “I need air. Be back in a few.”

“The ceremony is about to start,” he glowers. “If you’re not here in five minutes, I’ll kick your ass.”

Ethan has to die. You’re not that man anymore.

Cold seeps through my body. “Fuck off.”

“I mean it. Eva’s been through too much shit.”

“I’m not abandoning her, you moron.” My fists clench at my sides as I sweep across the room, heading for the office across the church.

People stare. Guests pack into the pews like sardines. My head swims with the image. I shake it off and head for her room, crashing through a door. A bridesmaid in a champagne-colored dress gasps at the sight of me.

I reach for the door handle, and she moves in my way. “Bastien, you can’t.”

“I want to talk to her. Now.”

“No,” she protests. “It’s bad luck—no!”

I seize her wrist, applying enough pressure to make her cry. “I’m going inside. Move the fuck away.”

She stumbles away in a half sob as I release her. A day or two ago, her pain would’ve made me drink. Now I don’t care.

I yank the door open, upsetting the huddle of bridesmaids around a woman in a white dress with a plunging back. Her chestnut hair twists in an elegant braid pinned with white florals.

Lips painted in a vivid red snarl at me. “What are you doing?”

Eva—that’s Eva. She was stunning without the makeup, but now she’s the image of perfection.

Holy shit, she’s beautiful. And mine. “Everyone get out,” I say to the room.

Eva grabs her dress as she stands, eyes widening with panic. Her bridesmaids bow their heads and leave the room. The door closes softly.

“You changed your mind,” she says hollowly.

“No.” I cross the room, hating the devastation on her face. “Jesus, Eva. I haven’t changed my mind.”

Her eyes swim with tears. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I need to be sure you want this.”

“I do.”

Not good enough. I take the hand balled at her side. “I know I scared you the other day. Sorry.”

She parts her lips. “You didn’t have to hurt him that badly.”

“Yes, I did.”

Her nostrils flare. “You put him in the hospital.”

“He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

Eva doesn’t back down. “He was drunk. What’s your excuse?”

“It wasn’t harmless. He took a flying leap over the line.”

“I don’t want anyone to suffer because of me!”

“I know.” My finger grazes her cheek. “But I’m not the one with a soft heart. He had no right to touch you, and Madison told me the filth he was saying. If I heard what he said, he’d be in a hole in the ground.”

She flinches horribly.

“The others will learn from Adrián not to fuck with you. That said, if you want to stop this, I’ll understand.”

Eva opens and closes her mouth, looking terrified but determined. “No.”

“Good.”

“We’re going through with this, damn it. I know you’re not perfect, but I’ve been waiting for years to start a family. I want this.”

“Then why are you shaking?”

“I’m nervous,” she admits. “We might not get along. I can’t believe this day is finally here. Thought I’d never find someone. Hell, there’s still time to wake up and find out I’m dreaming.”

I give her forearm a light pinch. “Did it hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Guess it’s real, then.”

She smiles. “You should get going.”

As though on cue, someone knocks.

I ignore the sound. “You make a beautiful bride, Eva. I’m lucky to have you.” Her fingers curl over my arms. I slide down the chiffon wedding dress. The fabric moves on her skin like water. I trace the thin fabric gently. She’s not wearing panties or a bra.

“You need to go.”

I let go of her hand and hesitate. “You’re sure—”

“Yes!”

I scoop her face in my hands. “Then I hope you blacked out the next month, because once you’re mine, I’m never letting you leave my bed.”

A violent flush fills her cheeks.