Naomi curled into my side as we lay in bed, watching the flickering screen of the TV cast its blue light on the dark walls. I slipped my arm around her because that seemed to be what she wanted. I felt unsettled by the happenings of the last few days, and that made me feel restless, like I needed to be ready for a fight at a moment's notice. It did not make me feel like cuddling.

My phone buzzed on the bedside table. Joe: Rook & Castell 1 hour

I'd asked Joe to set up a meeting with the private security team that was guarding Mitch. I planned to go forward with the gala, despite my worries, because I didn't want to disappoint Naomi. This all might be random coincidence, as much as I doubted it. But I was going to bring in security. I had also asked them to investigate my father's history, even though it made me anxious. God only knows what else there was to dig up.

"What's up?" Naomi asked, tilting her head to look up at me.

I tossed the phone back on the nightstand. "Nothing."

She raised her eyebrow. It was adorable, and I leaned forward to press my lips against hers. Her mouth felt soft and tender, and I let my eyes drift shut, losing myself— just for a minute—in her warmth. "I'm glad you decided to sleep in my bed."

"I think the secret's out," she said.

"It doesn't have to be a secret," I said.

"Mm." She glanced towards the nightstand, but I knew she wouldn't push it now; I'd successfully changed the subject. After all, it could just be one of my brothers with their travel plans.

I reached for the remote. "Do you really want to know who gets the rose?"

"I know. I've seen this episode before."

"Oh."

"I wanted to introduce you to the drama and goodness."

I smiled despite myself. "I have both all the drama and all the goodness I need in my life right now."

"Which am I?"

I dropped a kiss in her hair. "You know damn well. You're fishing."

“I’m not so sure which you are sometimes,” she murmured.

I knew I should ask what was worrying her, but I didn’t have it in me to fight any new battles. Not tonight. Feeling guilty, I clicked the television off and turned into her, wrapping my arms around her. "Good night, Naomi Anne Papadopolous."

"Good night, Robert Joseph Delaney."

I couldn't let myself fall asleep, but lying there with her vanilla-scented hair against my shoulder made me feel rested anyway. I listened to her breathing slow as she dropped away to sleep. Even with the scary happenings of late, she seemed to fall asleep easily in my arms, and that made me feel something. Naomi felt safe with me.

When she was deeply asleep, I slid my arm out from beneath her head and eased out of bed. I felt the mattress move under my weight and hoped she wouldn't wake. She stirred, nuzzling her head into her pillow, and then lay still.

I picked up my jeans from the floor and a fresh t-shirt from my bag, and carried my clothes into the hallway so I wouldn't wake her. Wincing at the brightness in the hall, I eased the door shut behind me. I was grateful to see her quiet form still resting before the door latched shut.

I wanted to have this conversation without her. I had to be bluntly honest about Delaney drama and about what I was willing to do to my family's enemies. If she were in the room, I would worry about what she thought. I couldn’t afford to worry about Naomi’s feelings when I needed to keep her safe.

I had stepped into my jeans and was buckling my belt when Alice stepped into the hallway, closing her own door furtively behind her. She turned towards me and then startled, raising a hand to her chest, before her expression changed. Her eyes drank me in for a second, roaming my shirtless chest and shoulders, before she jerked her eyes away.

"Why are you half naked in the hallway?" she asked in a stage whisper.

"Why are you in the hallway instead of sleeping?" I teased her. I had the funny feeling she was heading down the hall to Liam's childhood bedroom. Perhaps to reminisce about how they used to watch TV together. Or perhaps not.

"I couldn't sleep. I was going to make myself some tea." She crossed her arms over her chest. When her chin rose sharply at me, I was reminded of Naomi. "Would you like some?"

Never had an offer of Earl Grey sounded so much like a challenge.

"No thank you," I said. "I can't sleep, either. I'm going to work down in the study."

"Work?"

"I figure I can't keep Naomi captive for very long. I need to figure out what's going on."

Alice shook her head. "No, I don't think you can."

I ran my hand over my bristling short hair. "Thanks. For doing what you can to... keep her here. Safe."

There was the faintest mischievous smile on Alice's lips, as if she believed less in a threat and more in an excuse to keep Naomi and me close together, but I was fine with that. Whatever it took.

"Good night, Alice," I said. "Don't let the... tea... keep you up too late."

She made a small, non-committal sound and headed for the back stairs which led down to the kitchen. I headed the other way.

Down in the study, Joe knelt in front of the fireplace, turning the key.

"Really?" I asked as I closed the door softly behind me.

"I'm old," Joe said, leaning his weight on the stone mantle as he creaked his way back up to standing. "I can't take the chill at night."

When I smiled slightly, Joe shot me a mockingly dark look. "See how broken you are after twenty years in the teams."

"I don't doubt it," I said. There were some girls who would say I was broken already.

Joe grabbed his phone from his pocket and answered. "Hey. I'll meet you at the door and let you in."

I wandered around Mitch's old study while I waited for Joe and the security guys. It was strange to be here with most of the personal details removed: the canvas print of our family that had hung over the fireplace was a blank space now. Mitch's desk was no longer littered with coffee cups and Scotch glasses, waiting for one of the housekeepers to arrive to clean up behind him.

I frowned, thinking of the canvas. I hadn't seen it in the condo, either. It showed Mitch as a young man still, in his signature dark leather jacket over a dress shirt and tie. I hadn't seen Mitch wear that beloved jacket in years, either. Mitch had his arm possessively around my mother, who carried an infant Nicky in her arms, his eyes still closed with a newborn's sleepiness. Sometimes I wasn't sure if I really remembered my mother's face anymore or if I remembered her the way she looked in that portrait: wan and pensive, staring out towards the camera with wide blue eyes. Mitch had a careless confidence even in that portrait of his young family, but she didn't seem as relaxed. In front of the two of them stood the three of us older boys, almost triplets with their dark hair and snub noses except for the year's age difference separating each, Liam and Josh's heads both a few inches shorter than mine.

The door to the study swung open. I pushed the portrait from my mind for now, crossing the room to shake hands with Rook and Castell.

Rook was a woman.

I smiled at her to cover my surprise as we made our introductions. Castell was a short, broad-shouldered man in his forties. His features were bright and animated, his forehead crinkled slightly under a cueball scalp. Rook was tall, taller than Castell, with her short dark hair streaked with silver.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Rob," Rook said. "As much as I wish the circumstances were different. Joe's told us so much about you."

Rook and Castell moved quickly on from the pleasantries, spreading a series of file folders over Mitch’s enormous antique desk. Castell said, "We've compiled some information on your father's most likely enemies.”

"You're sure my father is safe?"

"We have twenty-four hour security with him in his room. Team of two. All of our people are thoroughly vetted and responsible, I assure you."

"I'm sure," I said. "It's my father. I have to check."

"I totally understand," Castell said.

"We think the two most likely sources of trouble are due to your father's political initiatives." Rook said. "We can't rule out more recent activity, but it seems like your father wasn't doing much lately."

"From his credit card statements," Castell said, "It appears he mostly spent his time socializing, supporting the arts, and playing tennis."

"My father did love a good tennis match," I said, leaving aside Mitch's love of socializing. I knew exactly what that really meant.

“Your father may have been targeted due to his work against defense contractors that he thought were manipulating the government. And one interesting thing has been his relationship with a, well, conspiracy theorist."

"The conspiracy being?"

"That certain senators conspired with defense companies to set up expensive security equipment they knew didn’t work. To the tune of billions of dollars of taxpayer money." Rook shrugged. "Unless your father was interested in his conspiracy theories about the New World Order and the Rothschilds. But I doubt it."

"Nothing would surprise me," I said.

"Your father was also very concerned about the potential of a drug called Slow S." Castell glanced at Joe. "It's the reason your father needed a bodyguard, actually. There was an attempt on his life twenty-four years ago."

“What?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I shook my head. This was no time to get hung up on the fact that I hadn’t known there’d been an assassination attempt on Mitch’s life. But I had to wonder if the two were connected, two murder attempts twenty-four years apart. My voice was brusque when I asked, "What was his involvement?"

It was hard to imagine the man who would maim someone due to DUI had also been passionately anti-drug.

"There were supposed to be legitimate pharmaceutical applications, helping ease cell damage and increase longevity. Under its full name, Spissterium. Slow S was its street name." Rook handed me another file. "It was also a hell of a high, apparently, and they couldn't do much to eliminate the high part at a dosage that was effective. The drug made people feel like time had slowed for them, like they had more time to process information."

"Made them feel like geniuses," Joe said, crossing his arms over his chest. "And let me tell you, a bunch of drug abusers feeling like geniuses is guaranteed problematic.”

"You knew about Slow S?" I asked. "Why's this the first time I've heard about it?"

"Your father wanted to keep you boys far away from danger," Joe said.

I snorted. "A lot of good that sentiment is doing us now."

"I'm sure he would change quite a bit about the past if he could," Joe said.

"We have to figure out what your father knew," Rook said. "What someone else wanted to know so badly."

I leaned against the edge of the desk. "Walk me through the timeline of what happened with my father."

Rook sighed faintly, and my gaze went to her. As she began to lay out the timeline, I understood why she had felt reluctant to fill me on the details, even though she'd launched quickly into a carefully researched report.

Mitch had been attacked when he was returning to his condo. His captors had disrupted the CCTV feed; there was no record of anything happening in that hallway. He had walked through the lobby, gotten into the elevator, and disappeared.

A neighbor had grown anxious and called security because she saw two strange men walking down the hall through the peephole. But that was much later. By then, my father had been tortured. For hours.

I felt my hands flex into fists as I imagined someone torturing my gray-haired old man. I might not like Mitch, but I was going to make someone pay for that. Like him or not, he was my dad. I hadn’t completely given up on loving him, no matter how much I hated him.

Steeling myself, I said, “They might have gotten the information they wanted from him, then.”

“They might have.” Rook said.

In that case, they would think that was the end of it. I intended to make sure that this wasn’t the end for them.

We talked through the steps going forward: the private investigation team, as much as I wanted to do this work myself and the security that would look after the house and Delaney family members— and Naomi— as well as Mitch in the hospital. I felt less alone in my war, at least, by the time we had formed a plan.

"My father made a terrible mistake when he fired you," I told Joe as Rook and Castell headed for the front door. We were trailing behind them into the foyer.

"It wasn't a mistake," Joe said, stopping at the door to the study. "I was loyal to your father, but he was right. I wasn't that kind of loyal."

"Lucky me, I don't need that kind of loyal."

Joe said, "You never would. You're a good man, Rob."

I nodded, slightly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. I turned to find Naomi, sitting on the bottom stair of the entryway. She'd thrown on a pair of sleep pants and a sweatshirt, and she looked mussed and tired sitting there.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

"I didn't want to interrupt your meeting," she said.

"It's just... security stuff. Getting measures in place to make sure we're all safe." We had agreed to keep information as closely held as possible. I couldn't imagine Naomi being anything but loyal. Yet I knew information was sometimes wily, something people gave away by accident.

She smiled faintly. "I woke up and you were gone."

"Sorry." I offered my hands so that I could pull her to her feet. "Let's go back to bed."

"I wish you'd told me," she said, putting her hands reluctantly into mine. "You didn't have to sneak out."

I drew her to her feet, pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I didn't want to wake you."

She looked up at me, a long look. I felt a prickle of irritation that she doubted me.

Beneath that, I felt the familiar grind of guilt.