I can’t stay focused. Partly because I expect Mr. Jacobs to call me into his office any second. I’ll be fired this time for sure. Once he hears about Preston.

Weirdly, being fired doesn’t have the same reaction as before. This job – the entire aspect of a job meaning more than the people in my life – no longer holds a choke-chain over my life.

Sure, I want to keep it. But I also want more.

I can’t pinpoint when that became apparent, but it has.

That’s only part of why I can't focus. Brent was acting odd this morning.

Jumpy. Distracted. I don’t know.

Also couldn't guess how long he’d been gone when I woke up and realized he wasn’t next to me. That wasn’t unusual. He always goes to his own bed before morning, but it wasn’t morning today.

Not even close.

I found him outside. At the table near the pool. He said he couldn’t sleep, and told me to go back up to bed. I can’t say he was trying to get rid of me, exactly.

Just had a feeling he didn’t want me out there right then.

There was a faint scent of cigarette smoke in the air. Even stranger. I’ve never seen him smoke, not even once. Never saw any indication that he does, but my father smoked and the scent of it always brings back memories.

Maybe it's the stress. Old habits coming back. I've heard of that, people who quit seeking comfort in old familiar tobacco when times get tough.

I can forgive him. The memories, with dad, maybe not so much.

There's too much there. Good and bad.

The good ones are of him. Of us. The bad ones are of missing him. Losing him. The day several neatly dressed officers showed up on our doorstep with bad news. Those are the bitter, ice cold memories lingering inside me.

They stoke very present fears.

Of losing Brent. And Nat. And everything.

“Ms. Derby, Ginger's eating paint again!” A small voice yells.

Speaking of the present...I hurry to the finger paint station, where little Ginger sucks on the bristles of a paint brush. Kneeling down beside her, I take the brush from her hand. “No, no, little lady. We don’t want to eat paint,” I say, shaking my head.

Her curly black pigtails flip and flop as she shakes her head. All the while licking the blue paint off her lips.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” I take her hand and lead her to the sink, where I drop the brush in the plastic bucket of soapy water and wet a paper towel to wipe her face. With big brown eyes and golden-brown skin, she’s absolutely adorable, and the tiniest four year old I’ve ever seen.

Probably because she doesn’t eat much except for things she’s not suppose to. Paint. Glue. Crayons.

“Five more minutes until clean up time!” I tell the rest of the class, giving Ginger a paper cup full of water to rinse out her mouth.

I hear my phone buzz as a text comes in. Normally, I leave it in my purse in the closet all day, but not today.

It’s on my desk.

Brent has already sent several messages. Asking how things are going and saying that he misses me. Which is sweet, but also odd. That’s not like him. He's always saved his love for us in-person.

Something's going on. Something bigger than I’d first imagined.

More than Preston’s body being found. I truly don’t know how I feel about that. Sad, shocked, but also scared. Like there's another shoe ready to drop, and it may just be an ass-kicker.

I get Ginger interested in a puzzle and then put away the rest of the paint before I go to my desk. It’s Brent again.

How are you doing?

Fine. I type back. And you?

Good, babe. See you in a couple of hours.

I set the phone down, but then pick it back up and type, Did you get a new phone or something?

You’ve just never sent this many messages.

His reply comes in. Weirdly off. Nah. Missing you.

I swipe to the emoji screen, but only have time to tap on a heart and hit send because the crash of building blocks needs my attention.

* * *

Class finally ends by the time I get a chance to look at the phone again. No more messages, but I have to admit that I'd enjoyed knowing he was thinking about me all day.

“Do you ever go to football games?”

“No,” I say to Nat, who walks into my classroom. I’ve never been a big sports fan, but enjoyed going to high school games with friends years ago. “Why? Do you want to go to the game tonight?”

“No.” She starts helping me set the chairs on the tables so the janitor can clean the floor. “Just curious. The kids in my class were talking about it.”

The entire school's been buzzing about how well the team is doing this year. “Well, if you do want to go, just let me know,” I say, not wanting to push, but certainly wanting to encourage. “I’ll take you. Your dad probably would, too. I've seen a Cardinals logo or two in his office.”

“Okay! I’ll think about it. Thanks, Ms. Derby.”

I grab my purse out of the closet and walk over to the desk to collect my phone. “Ever asked him to take you before?”

She shakes her head. “I’d rather go to the ranch. Or hike up Camelback. Hey, you think Dad would want to go this weekend? It's finally cooling off!”

Everyone leaves early on Friday afternoons. It’s barely three when she walks out the door. Following her, I click off the light. “We'll see. No idea what his plans are for the weekend, I'm afraid. You're right about the weather, though.”

I smile, noticing I no longer feel the urge to instantly bust into flames stepping into the sun.

Her eyes sparkle as she grins. “If we both ask, really nicely, I bet he’ll say yes!”

I can’t help but smile. I love a good scheme. “Are you suggesting we gang up on him?”

She shrugs, but her smile never falters.

The more I’m around this kid, the more I like her. She has a light about her that never dims. Grasping her shoulder, I pull her to my side for a quick hug. “Let's feel him out. I've got your back if you give him a few words of encouragement.”

Brent is home when we arrive, outside lounging near the pool, and on the phone. He spins around as he sees me, changing his expression, but I’d already seen the look on his face.

Something's wrong. Seriously wrong.

He’s in full badass mode.

I feel the change in the air as much as I see it in him. That doesn’t scare me, but at the same time, it’s unnerving how tormented he looks. Like it's taking everything he has to figure something out.

“Hey, kiddo,” I say to Natalie. She’d been talking about the chocolate cake we’d had at lunch today, so I use that as an excuse. “Will you go search chocolate cake recipes? Print out a couple and then we can see if we have all the ingredients. I bet we can improve on what the cafeteria serves up.”

She lifts a brow, having also seen her father out the window. “Sure!” With a nod towards Brent, she says, “He’ll be fine after he hangs up. It’s just work stress. I tell him he should hire a manager for some things.”

I laugh, loving how she's so ready to advise him on business. Still, I wish she was right about this just being work-related. A sick vortex in the pit of my stomach says it's anything but.

“Nat, go Google those recipes.”

“On it!”

I wait until she leaves the room before I open the sliding glass door. Brent shoves his phone in his pocket as soon as I step outside. He turns and walks towards me.

“Hey. How was your day?”

His smile is as false as Santa Claus. “What’s wrong?” I ask. “You look –”

He kisses my forehead. “Nothing, Blue.”

I step back and hold up my hands to keep him at arm’s length. “Don’t lie to me, Eden. A moment ago, you’d transformed into your badass papa bear self. I saw it.”

“Blue –”

A mixture of fear and frustration boils inside me. “I know what I saw! Jesus. You’ve been acting strange all day. Either tell me what’s going on, or...” I can’t think of a threat he’ll take seriously.

He grasps my wrists, pulling me closer. “You’ll what?”

“Leave.” I’m serious, because I know something bad is happening. He might think he’s hiding it, but he’s not. It’s still on his face. Whatever it is. “I’ll leave.”

“Leave? And go where?”

The challenge in his voice makes me more determined. “My apartment’s done. Riker called. I don't have to stay here a minute longer if there's no good reason.”

“When?”

“Wednesday. Said he'd already done a walk through with you, too, and squared the work away with the city code.”

He releases my wrists and steps away. “You can’t go back there.”

“Why? Preston’s no threat.”

Running a hand through his hair, he shakes his head. “No body yet.”

He’d lowered his voice to little more than a whisper. Not sure I heard correctly, I ask, slowly, “What do you mean? No body?”

“Preston Graves,” he growls. “They haven't got his body. The police have no record of it.”

“But Dawson –”

“I know,” he growls. “He didn’t file your OFP, either. Heard it straight from the horse's mouth today.”

A shiver darts up my spine. So does the gravity in his voice. Fear and anger race to curdle my stomach first. “God, what’s going on, Brent? There’s been something happening behind the scenes for weeks, something you don’t want me to know about. What is it?”

He glances around and shakes his head. “Nothing, Blue. Nothing you need to worry over.”

“Bullshit!” It just explodes out. “It's too late. Too late for games. I’m worried sick.”

“Don’t be. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Safe. From. What?”

“Nothing.”

This is nuts.

I study him, wondering why he's fighting so hard to lie to me. His jaw is tight, his neck muscles showing. I lurch forward and shove at his chest with both hands. “You sonofabitch! I just asked you not to lie to me. And here you are.” My anger turns raw and painful as the truth reveals itself. “You’ve been lying to me since the beginning, haven’t you?”

He stays stock-still.

Searching for a way to break through that hard fucking shell of his, I shove his chest again. It's like trying to move solid steel. “Who the hell answers their front door with a gun? You, that’s who. The first time I came here you answered the door with a freaking handgun. And never said a word.”

He shoves my hands aside. “Yeah, and I wish you’d never come here that night.”

My jaw drops. Whoever said words will never hurt is a fucking liar.

It's like my heart was just sliced in two. “Fine. Fuck you. And your fucking creepy cop friend.”

He grabs my hand as I spin around. “Blue –”

“Shut up!” I break his hold on me and step away. “You know what, I don’t want to know. Whatever you’re mixed up with, it's bad. I don’t want to know, and I don’t want to be a part of it, either. I'm such an idiot.”

I’m two steps away when he says, “I wish like hell you weren’t part of it. I didn’t want you to be. Still fucking don’t. But it’s too late.”

Another cold chill. Another flash of anger. I hold my breath for a moment, trying to decide my options. The hurt, the pain inside, making it hard to see reason. To see any choices.

“And I need your help.”

I turn to see his face. His emerald eyes. And the sincerity in them.

Wow. I know him. Asking anyone for help would gut him. “My help?”

He nods.

“Brent, you better not be –”

“I’m not,” he says. “I don’t know what’s coming, Blue. Not all of it. But I have to stop it. I can't lose you.”

“Stop what?”

“I’m not exactly sure.”

I want to ask how he can stop something when he doesn’t know what it is, but refrain. He’s not lying. He doesn’t know. And that’s what’s tormenting him. I step closer. “What do you know?”

“Not much.”

“Then tell me not much.” I lay a hand on his chest. “I deserve to know. Whatever it is, if I’m mixed up in it, I need the full truth.”

He huffs out a breath and then pulls me into his arms. “You’re right.”

As much as I love being in his arms, I don’t lean against him. That would be too easy and make me forget the anger that had my blood boiling only seconds ago. He knows what his touch does to me, and I have to prevent that from happening. From forgetting everything except what it feels like to be held in those heavily inked arms. “Then tell me.”

“Where’s Nat?”

“In her room.”

He nods and leads me over to the table he was sitting at early this morning when I’d smelled cigarette smoke.

“Who was here this morning?” I ask.

“Did you hear someone?”

I shake my head. “But someone was here. I know it.”

He nods slowly. Gestures for me to sit while he drops into another chair. “A friend. Old acquaintance.”

“There's a difference,” I point out.

“Yeah, there is.” He leans forward, puts his elbows on the table. “There's always a fine line between the right side and the wrong side of the law, Blue. Some people weave across that line for the good of the law. Others, for ill.”

Not about to be buffaloed I say, “Don’t beat around the bush, Brent. This isn't a movie.”

He cracks a slight grin. “Sometimes you're too smart for your own good.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He shakes his head and takes my hand. “There’s a crime syndicate in Phoenix called the Black Pearls. If it’s illegal, they've got their paws in it, usually heading it up. Drugs. Smuggling. Trafficking.”

The name wasn’t familiar to me, but the crimes were. With the border so close, the unexplained disappearances on the reservations, the bad news is never ending. I don’t want to believe it, but have to ask, “Are you mixed up with them?”

“My brother Davey was.” Pain fills his eyes. “I tried to stop him. Tried like hell to make him understand he was on the road to nowhere, to death, but he wouldn’t listen.”

I squeeze the fingers he's wrapped around my hand. “What happened?”

“He was shot. Police said he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Driving past a drug deal that went to shit, but his keys were in his pocket. Someone shot him and put him in his car after he was dead.”

Jesus. I feel the color drain from my face.

“Surely an investigation –”

“Wasn’t one. Not a thorough one.” He shakes his head and slams a hand on the table. “They arrested two young kids from Mexico, claimed they were responsible, and shipped them back across the border, but it wasn’t them.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it was too easy. Too clean cut. But because my parents had already been through enough losing their son, I didn’t push it. I’d almost learned to live with it myself, until a few months ago when one of the Pearls contacted me. Said Davey died owing the bastards a large debt, and that I needed to make it right.”

“Did you go to the police?”

His chuckle sounds fake and bitter. “No. Think I'd probably have had an accident if I had.” Scorn twists his face as he seethes, “Shot by two young kids from the wrong side of the tracks.”

A shiver ripples my skin.

“I told the Pearls I've got no interest paying off the debt. Yet, every few months, Phil shows up again. Each time what they wanted was different. I could launder some money for them, they said, or deliver some cargo.”

He shakes his head before letting out a sigh and glances around, as if he isn't sure what to say next.

“But you didn’t?”

“No. Fuck no.”

He's torn, and angry, that much is obvious. My heart sinks, wanting to help him with all I have. “Why did your brother hook up with them?”

“I don’t know. It came out of the blue. I didn’t even believe it when I first heard, but then Davey confirmed it.” He shrugs. “Two days later he was dead.”

My heart goes out to him. Blinking at the tears stinging my eyes because of his pain, I ask, “What do you mean out of the blue?”

“Well, wasn’t a complete shock,” he says. “Davey had worked for the newspaper for several years. A photographer. He wrote a few articles too, but mostly took pictures. Then he quit. Took odd jobs now and then. Spent a lot of time out at the ranch. At first I thought it was a woman, but he never had a steady girlfriend. He was just friends with everyone. A likeable guy. My ma once said some girl smashed his heart to pieces while I was in the army, and that it was going to take him time to get over it.” He scratches his head. “I’d been home from the army for years, so he should have been long over it. I don't know.”

I hold my tongue to keep from telling him some people never mend a broken heart.

He doesn’t need to hear it right now, and having never experienced it, he wouldn’t understand. Focusing on the rest of what he's said, I ask, “So, what did he say when you tried to stop him? Told him he was on the road to nowhere?”

“Some stupid shit. That it wasn’t about money. Not entirely. He told me everyone would be proud of him soon and his ship would come in. Riches. Fame. Power. Whatever.”

“Why do you say it was stupid?”

“Because it was. Davey was...” He pinches his lips together for a moment. “He wasn’t much bigger than you. In height or weight. And he wore pop-bottle glasses before he switched to contacts. As a kid, he got picked on all the time and –”

“And you protected him,” I say, sensing the obvious. “Made the assholes picking on him stop.” Tears press harder on my eyes at how it's torturing him.

He wasn't able to save his little brother that one time, and there'd never be a second chance. “Brent, it’s not your fault.”

“Like hell it’s not. He didn’t know what he was getting into. My words didn't work. I should've clubbed him over the head and dragged him back to my place. Made him see sense.”

His pain just makes him angrier, which won’t help either of us. My insides are trembling. I have no idea what to do to help him. And I’m no closer to understanding what's going on. “Who told you the police have no record of a body being found? These Pearl people?”

Some of the pain leaves his face as he shakes his head. “No. I have a friend, a guy who has an in with the city police.”

“What sort of friend? A police officer?”

“Not exactly. He's...a member of a motorcycle club I used to belong to.” He stands up and rubs the back of his neck. “I think Dawson's trying to pin Preston’s death on me.”

I jump to my feet. “You? Why? How?” My mind lurches all directions. I rush to his side and grab his arm. “He can’t! No way. I’ll tell him you were with me. Twenty-four hours a day.”

He pulls me against him. I wrap my arms around his waist and hold on for dear life.

“I don’t know why, but I have to find out. That’s where I need your help.”

I lean back to look up at him. “Anything, Eden. Name it.”

“I need to go meet some people and need you to stay with Nat. Just for a little while.” He brushes my hair back with one hand. “There’s no one else I trust to take care of her.”

“Of course I will, but there has to be more I can do than that.”

He shakes his head slowly. “There’s nothing more important than knowing you two stay here. Safe.”

His kiss is long and slow and full of emotion. He presses my head into his chest after. “I wish you weren’t involved, but I’ll never regret you coming to the house that night,” he says. “Never regret having you in my life. You're the sunshine I needed. That Nat needed. I won’t lose you over this bullshit.”

Tears needle my eyes again. “You won’t lose me.”

His hold tightens even more.

I understand why and though I don’t want to know, I have to. “When are you leaving?” I ask. “When will you be back?”

“As soon as I get the call. I’m not sure how long it'll take. Could be all night.”

He’s too elusive. “I need to know more,” I say. “If something happens –”

“Nothing's happening, Blue.” His jaw goes tight. “Not to you or me. I'll do my business and come right home.”

Before I can come up with a response, his phone rings.

He lets go of me, grabs his phone out of his pocket, and walks into the grass. “Eden.”

I hold my breath, but it doesn’t help. I can’t hear anything the other person says. When he turns around and meets my gaze, an overwhelming fear washes over me.

“You’re leaving now?”

He nods. “Have to, babe. Take care.”

Two hours later, I’m still scared. Still pacing the floor. Still doing my damnedest not to let Natalie see me freaked out.

I’ve tried hard not to let anything show as we make supper and then bake our chocolate cake.

As I take the cake out of the oven, she points at the hook by the door, a frown on her face. The keys to the ranch are gone. I always remember the little turtle he keeps fastened to the chain, how its silver and turquoise catch the light.

A chill sinks through my bones. This isn't working, trying to stay calm.

Pacing, chewing my lip, won't bring him home any sooner.

So, I pick up my phone and dial while walking into the hall. As soon as there's an answer on the other end, I pop the question, “Hey, Mom, I need a favor...could Natalie come stay with you for the night?”