As Thad sped through red light after red light, his grim, determined expression telling her he was set on this unalterable course, Tiana realized two things. One: so much of life was out of a person’s control. Two: there had been times when life had clearly signposted her choices, and she had relinquished that control voluntarily. She had not acted to change her life. Those inactions had consequences. She was reaping them now.

 

She thought back to a crucial turning point, maybe the most important she’d ever faced. It had been early in the summer, two, no, three years back, when her girlish dreams of romance and family had come to a crashing end. She remembered the whole scene like it was yesterday: that sharp influx of jock body spray into the room as he rushed downstairs, ready to leave for his afternoon run; the daytime soap on the TV, Diagnosis Murder; the t-shirt with the Batman logo he was wearing.

 

“We never get to talk anymore,” she pointed out, handing him his mp4 player. “You’re always in a hurry.”

 

“It’s called fitness training. You should try it sometime.”

 

“Not funny.”

 

“No shit,” he scoffed, looking her up and down.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Can we do this later?”

 

“That’s what you always say. We started a conversation yesterday and…I never got to finish.”

 

He sighed impatiently. “Never got to finish what, Tiana?”

 

“What I wanted to say.”

 

Checking his watch, he shook his head. “Okay, what is it? Spit it out.”

 

“Oh, not like this. You’re not going to make me say it like this. What’s the matter with you?”

 

“Stop speaking in code,” he said. “You know I can’t stand it when you do that.”

 

“Sorry, I just wanted to…” His coldness upset her. She had to fight to keep the tears from welling.

 

“So, we had a conversation yesterday,” he said. “About Gaston and Rosina, right? Was there something I missed?”

 

“And I told you about Cassie.”

 

“Uh-huh. What about her?”

 

“About what she and the Petrovs have in common, not to mention half the fighters on the circuit.” Tiana summoned every ounce of her courage; it had been on her mind for months, if not years, and she hadn’t imagined this moment being quite so…combative. “Thad, we’ve been together since high school. We’ve lived together longer than the Petrovs had known each other, and they’re already ahead of us.”

 

“Ahead of…” He crooked a corner of his mouth into something between a smile and a sneer. It wasn’t an expression she was familiar with. Not from him. “That’s what this is all about? And your sister. They’ve all gotten married and we haven’t. Is that it?”

 

“Um, kind of, yeah.” Tiana realized she couldn’t read him at all, and it scared her a little. He’d been moody lately, but she’d always thought she knew where he was coming from, what was eating at him. Now? Not so much. “I mean, why haven’t we?” she asked. “When two people love each other and know for sure they can live happily together under the same roof…it’s the next step, right? I mean, we should probably at least talk about it.”

 

“You don’t think I’ve thought about it?”

 

“I’m not saying that. It’s just that you’ve never mentioned it…to me. I just want us to be open with each other, Thad.”

 

At that moment, something in his eyes, a flash of danger, as though a dark cloud was passing over him, made her step back instinctively. “Where’s this even coming from?” he said.

 

“I-I didn’t mean to put you in a corner or anything. Maybe we should talk about it later.”

 

“No, we can talk about it now. You’ve fucked up my training, so we can fucking talk about it now.”

 

“Thad, don’t get mad. It was just an idea.”

 

“And you’re saying that I’m scared of that idea. That I’m some kind of a pussy because I’ve let Gaston Petrov beat me to the altar or some shit.”

 

“That’s not what I’m saying. Not at all.”

 

“Then why bring it up like that? Why preface it with that shit—Rosina Petrov and Cassie—like you’re so hard-done-to. Like I haven’t given you everything. You ungrateful bitch!”

 

He slapped her across the face. Tiana staggered back in shock. It took a few moments of hard, searching looks before she realized what had just happened. What the man she’d loved all this time had just done. “Thad?”

 

As he approached, the storm cloud erupted with fury. He changed before her eyes into a dark, twisted thing that bore no resemblance to the boy from high school. Before he struck a second time, she burst into bitter sobs. The smarting impact only made it worse.

 

“Get that idea out of your fucking head!” This time he backhanded her, drawing blood. “Don’t ever compare me to those idiots. Not ever. Those guys are the pussies. They let their whining bitches get their own way, and before they know it, they’re being dictated to by women who don’t do a fucking thing but sit around and spend their money all goddamn day. Like you. I’m so sick of it. You’re always in the way, nagging about this, pouting about that. Like your life’s such a disappointment. I give all this and you’re not satisfied? You want my balls as well?” He spat at her, then slapped her again for good measure. “Fuck you!”

 

On the sofa now, holding her sore face in her hands, Tiana could only sob. Evil was all around her. There was no protection from it. She was as helpless as she’d ever been, but what made it impossible to bear was that, moments ago, she’d done a courageous thing. Broached the subject of marriage. And he’d beat the shit out of her for it.

 

“You know, it’s funny: you play nice, you abide by the rules, and this is what you get. A sly cow who tries to guilt you into a corner. Well, you know what? Maybe those rules aren’t so hot after all. One of these days, one of us might have to take a dive,” he said. After thinking that over, he started chuckling insanely. “Yeah, that might not be a bad idea. I give you a little shove when you’re least expecting it. You break your neck on the way downstairs. I win by default. What do you say to that? Still want to guilt me into getting married? No? Thought not, sweetheart.” He gave her shin a little kick. “Get up to your room and don’t ever mention this again.”

 

Slowly, painfully, Tiana rose to her feet and wandered through a kind of slipstream fog to her bedroom. She didn’t come out for two whole days. Thad stayed away. When he did finally return, he never mentioned the incident again. Neither did she. To anyone. Though she considered filing assault charges—she had even memorized the exact wording she would use—Tiana Crowe couldn’t bring herself to cross him.

 

Was it that he’d threatened to shove her down the stairs and break her neck? Or that since leaving home, she’d never know any other life than with him? Or that she believed, deep down, that he would never do anything like that again and that things could go back to the way they were, so long as she never brought up the subject of marriage again. Money, security, a lavish lifestyle…were those the bribes she’d taken to stay silent while a drug-addled psychopath had raged away in the corner of her life?

 

Well, that bribe had come back to bite her now. And his threat to break her neck might not be an idle threat any longer!

 

***

 

It was a bizarre scene. One of the guest bedrooms, the most visible in the entire house, just before the upstairs restrooms, was painted red—not with paint, but with red wine. Several bottles of it were poured over the bed and carpet and tossed up the walls. On the wall over the bed, someone had written, in wine: URGENT! BOWDEN STAY BY PHONE TILL I CALL.

 

No other name had been given, and there was no clue as to who might call. However, the author had known that someone, the next person to visit the restroom, would discover this and get Dax’s attention. A trail of wine even extended to the landing, just to make sure. But it also meant that whoever had gone to all this trouble was either still at the party or had recently left.

 

So to wait or not to wait…for a phone call that may or may not come.

 

“Has anything like this ever happened before?” he asked Ward Lever, his balding, over-tanned agent.

 

“Never. Hell, I don’t even know what it is. Or what we’re supposed to make of it. If it’s some kind of blackmail or ransom scheme, why go to all this trouble with the wine? Why not just ring up? Or if it’s a prank…okay, I got nothing.”

 

“It doesn’t add up,” Dax concluded, eyeing the bedside phone suspiciously. He looked under the bedside table, checking for a wire that didn’t belong.

 

“You think that thing might be bugged?” asked Ward.

 

Dax didn’t want to alarm him by going a step further. He was probably just being paranoid. And Ward’s observation still applied. If someone was going to rig an explosive device to the phone receiver, why advertise it in advance? Why call attention to it?

 

It didn’t add up.

 

“You going to wait for the call?” asked Ward.

 

“Might as well. But not for long.”

 

“Now I wish I’d installed that CCTV inside the house as well. These assholes just don’t respect anyone else’s property.”

 

That gave Dax an idea. “Go find Alvaro,” he told Ward. “He knows IT. Take him to the CCTV terminal—you remember where it is, in that closet room I showed you in the study—and get him to play back the party arrivals. You sent out all these invitations. You know who should be here. I want you to pick out anyone who doesn’t belong, anyone who’s gatecrashing. Okay?”

 

“Um, okay. What should I do if I come across—?”

 

“Come straight back here to me. Don’t try to confront anyone. And don’t—”

 

Screams from downstairs, followed by the sound of breaking glass, ripped Dax from his investigation. All he could think about was Tiana. Sherwood might be watching her, but it had been a long time since Sherwood had tackled anyone.

 

People were running upstairs like rich rats fleeing a sinking party. They were tripping over each other to get away. It made it tough for Dax to get past. He couldn’t see exactly what was happening down there, but it seemed to be moving through the foyer. Toward the front door.

 

“What the fuck’s going on?” he asked a couple clinging to the bannister.

 

“A man with a knife,” the woman replied. “He’s gone berserk. I think he’s killed someone in the kitchen. Don’t!” She tugged Dax’s shirttail. “Don’t go down there. He’s crazy.”

 

Those two words unlocked the entire sequence of events in his mind. He knew who was behind all this, and why he’d done it.

 

Oh my God! Tiana!

 

For a fleeting moment, he had a feeling of utter helplessness. If Hollis had gotten to her first, there was nothing he could do about it. Then he felt ashamed for having left her. And stupid. And derelict in his duty. How could he have let this happen in his own freaking house? Finally, when he heard the words: “He’s taken her! Should we call the cops?” Dax leapt over the banister and climbed down onto the oak sideboard, ripping his shirt. He pushed people out of his way, but he couldn’t get there quick enough.

 

A group of men stopped him at the front door. “Don’t go, Easterling. He’s got a knife.”

 

“Out of my way!”

 

“He’s already attacked your man.”

 

“Sherwood? Is he okay?”

 

“I don’t know. Your other man is seeing to him—the Mexican lad.”

 

On his way out the door, Dax called back, “Then he’s in good hands. Alvaro knows what he’s doing. Has anyone called nine-one-one?”

 

No response. Dax got his Smartphone out and dialed the emergency number on his way to the garage. A group of about twenty people was gathered on the gravel at the edge of the front drive. The rear lights of a speeding car disappeared through the front gates.

 

“What was the car’s make?” he yelled at the group.

 

“A Pontiac Firebird,” a man shouted back. “White. Vintage.” He appeared to converse with the others before he added: “We didn’t get the license plate. Sorry.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

The operator put Dax through to the Los Angeles Police Department emergency switchboard.

 

“Yes, it’s urgent. I’m reporting an abduction. It’s just happened.” He gave his name, address, a description of the car, and the names of the abductor and abductee. “No license plate number, no.” He got into his green E-type Jaguar but had to quickly adjust to driving stick—it had been a while since he’d been behind the wheel of his prized British vehicle—and peeled out of the garage. The tires kicked gravel up at the spectators when he floored the gas. “I don’t know for sure, but he might be taking her back to their house. They used to live together. No, I don’t have the address. You need to find it quick. Okay, keep me posted.”

 

He hung up, then immediately called his agent, the man with all the contacts. “Ward, I need you to get Thad Hollis’s address for me. I don’t care. Call in a few favors. Make promises you can’t keep. Whatever it takes. I need that address, and I need it immediately. Okay. Call me as soon as you get it.”

 

Next, he rang Tiana’s cell. It was a long shot, but just in case Hollis had thrown her in his trunk and forgotten to take her phone away, he thought he’d better check.

 

To his surprise, the line opened after a dozen or so rings. “Tiana? Tiana, is that you?”

 

After a lengthy pause, a man’s voice sounded. “Dax?”

 

“Who is this?”

 

“Dax! It’s Alvaro.”

 

“Alvaro? Where are you?”

 

“At your house. Looking after Sherwood till EMS gets here. Someone heard this phone ringing outside, near the Jacuzzi. She saw your name and brought it to me. It’s Tiana’s phone, right?”

 

“Shit. Yeah, it is.”

 

“Is she okay?”

 

“Don’t know, muchacho. I’m in pursuit. Trying to figure out where he might be taking her.”

 

“Let me ask around. See if anyone knows where that asshole lives.”

 

“Okay, Alvaro. Thanks. How is Sherwood doing?”

 

“He’s cut pretty bad. Nothing major though, as far as I can tell. But he’s banged up. What the fuck is wrong with that guy?”

 

“It’s a long story. I don’t have time right now.”

 

“Okay, brother. Good hunting. Be careful.”

 

“Copy that.”

 

For the life of him, Dax couldn’t recall the street name Tiana had given to the taxi dispatcher that morning she’d left his house—his real house. It was the morning after one of the hottest—no, the hottest—night of his life. His mind had been on…other things. He’d heard what she’d said; he just couldn’t dredge the name up. Goddamn it. Where had that fucking cab taken her?

 

His instinct told him it wasn’t in this neighborhood. Tiana had seemed, for want of a better word, intimidated by the size of his and Ward’s estate in Hollywood Hills. He pinned it heading south on Mulholland Drive, heading toward Laurel Canyon Boulevard.

 

What he wouldn’t give to have one of those police scanners right now. Every unit in the area would be on the lookout for a white Firebird, and there couldn’t be many of those about. It was only a matter of time before it got spotted. But would they get to it in time? And even if they could, what would Hollis do when they finally cornered him?

 

Jesus. Don’t think that far ahead. Just concentrate on finding her, damn it.

 

The night lights of L.A. sprawled out below like a million drips of melted steel on a huge, sleeping gridiron. One of them was his destination. But which?