I watch Maxwell Chenocott usher her away, shooting me the dirtiest look I think I've seen since a conference a few years ago, when I outbid a major competitor who needed the solar battery start up I stole under his nose.

Can't blame the old man. Fuck knows I'd do the same if I had to watch my daughter depending on the bastard who ripped his family's life to bits.

Maybe I should have let her have the talk about Jace after all. But that's the thing about wishes: they're dirt cheap.

Utterly worthless until they come true, and time always makes some forever stillborn.

I take a seat in the waiting room, listening to a fierce Seattle rain hammering the windows. Despite the evil eye her dad's giving me, I regret nothing being back here.

Didn't even stop to think the second I found her on the floor at our Lincoln City cabin, phone hanging limply against her cheek. I just acted. Picked her up and carried her home with all my might.

We, I'd told her. Now, she's learning what it means.

Means I've come home to deal with my demons once and for all.

Means I'll do anything to protect her heart, knowing I'm the luckiest SOB on Earth to have a second crack at it.

Means I'll work my balls off making her life picture perfect – no matter how rough or painful or messy it'll be.

And it's guaranteed to be all that and then some, knowing her asshole brother's out there.

Because I haven't let go of the secret in my pocket. My hand brushes against it even now, the box controlling the tip of my tongue, begging to come out. If only my words hadn't stuck in my throat while we were in Oregon.

Deep down, I'm glad fate intervened at the last second and kept me from getting down on one knee. I'd have needed one hell of a do-over if I'd asked Presh to be my wife a split second before she heard the tragic news.

Next time, I'll wait until the storm's over. I have to. Even if every minute I don't get it out makes me want to bury my fist through the nicely painted wall of this floor.

I don't see Amy Kay or her dad for the better part of the next hour. She comes out again, shutting the door gently behind her, walking toward me with a nurse. The woman peels away from her before we're together again, me on my feet, waiting for her with open arms.

“What's the word?”

“She'll live. More scans coming in the morning. Her eyes were open. She remembered me, knew who I was, thank God, but didn't say much else. I'm worried. They don't really know how bad it is, Trent. Not yet. Maybe by tomorrow –”

“Come the hell here.” I stop her mid-sentence, jerk her to me, refusing to let more hot pain stream down her cheeks. “How'd it happen?”

I hold her, wait for her breathing to stabilize, her body stilling in my arms. When she looks up with the glossy pain in her eyes, I know before his name leaves her lips.

“Jace. He was gone for so long mom knew something was up. She confronted dad. Demanded answers. He told her about the divorce, the money problems, stealing from the firm. All his dirt.”

I don't say anything. Just squeeze her tighter.

“Well, mom lost it, bolted upstairs, trying to run away to their room. God, the arthritis – one of her knees locked. She was too choked up to stop herself, to grab onto the banister before...”

“I've heard plenty. No more tonight, darling. You'll tell me the rest once she's doing better again.” I don't give her any choice, pressing her face to my shoulder, stroking her chestnut hair.

It's velvet in my fingers.

Fuck. She's too amazing for life, this woman.

Even when her heart's imploding, she's an angel. Velvet heart and silk skin. So rare and beautiful.

Makes me want to find Jace and break every bone in his evil fucking body. Maybe his pain will buy an end to hers.

“How's Maxwell? Still pissed I'm here?” I give her a few more seconds, then lift her face gently to mine, smiling as wide as I can with my eyes.

“He'll get over it. Dad's just glad I'm back. Says it doesn't matter, if you stay out of the way...but he doesn't want mom to see you anytime soon. We don't know how she is. It might upset her all over again.”

“She'll get all the space she needs. I'll make myself a ghost, Presh. You need family time, just say the word.” Her little hands fold to my arm, seeking my strength, tighter than before. I give it my all, so past ready to make this right. “Let's get the hell out of here. I can take you home to your parents' place, if you prefer, or a hotel –”

“Nah. The house will do fine. Just wish we could be together, tonight, but I should be there for dad. Don't know when he'll be home. Or if.” She blinks, her eyes big, as if she's working through the hot mess of her thoughts. “This sounds really bitchy doesn't it? After everything you've done for me...”

“Precious.” I stop, wait until she looks at me, lifting her face by the chin. “Not bitchy. Not anything. You just keep your family's spirits up.”

“Trent –”

“No,” I growl in her ear, then silence her with a heavy kiss.

No more excuses. No more apologies. No more worries over me.

Whatever's got her freaked out and ashamed doesn't fucking matter. Not tonight. Not ever.

“Quiet,” I whisper, bringing my mouth to hers one more time. “Let's get you home. Left the driver waiting out front. He'll be happy to drop you, and I'll find some place to stay. I'll be by my phone. You call, you need me, I'm there. Won't even sleep till I hear your voice again.”

“Trent.” She tilts her head.

“Let's move, Amy Kay. Right the hell now.” I pull her gently by the wrist, leading her down the hall, trying to remember how we found our way to parking.

She falls into me. I throw an arm around her shoulder and march her toward the elevator, loving how good she feels against me. Why the fuck did it take so long to get here?

I tap the button for the elevator. She turns her little face up. “Haven't been on one of these since last time with you.”

“Shit, you're right. How about the stairs then, darling?”

“No.” Her grip tightens on my arm and her little hand slides down it. “No sense running from my fears. That's how we got ourselves into this mess. If you're by my side, we'll survive anything.”

She's finally starting to get it. Good.

Damn good. I can't even hold the growl that slips out as I press my lips to hers. Our lips are still locked together as the door swings open, and the universe flips us the middle finger. Laughing.

Jace stands stiff as a board the instant he sees us. His eyes go big and his fists fly from his pockets, braced at his sides, fully ready to put me through the wall.

Shit!

I put myself in front of my woman, still staring in disbelief. “Jace, what the –”

“Fuck, Usher? Fuck you.” He lunges, too fast, catching me off guard.

The situation's too surreal and I'm wearing the wrong shoes for this. They slip on the polished floor and send me spinning back into the wall.

My balance returns the instant I catch myself and look up again. His filthy paws are on Precious.

“Have you lost your fucking mind, sis? Him? Here? With you? The fucking animal who put mom under?” He's shaking too bad to hurt her, but he's got her shook up, too. All it takes to make my blood storm.

“Let her go!” I snarl, grabbing at his neck. He tries to whirl around and knock an elbow in my guts, but this time I'm ready.

I block his swing. Grab the back of his wrist. Pull until tendons creak.

Drop him to the floor, still bending his hand back. It's been a couple years since I did that crash course in martial arts for a company health initiative, but I've kept practicing a few times per month, and it all comes flooding back.

“Ah, fuck you!” he spits again, undaunted, teeth bared like a wild beast.

Giving no fucks, I keep bending his wrist.

“You're lucky we're in a hospital, asshole. They can fix this right up if I have to make you behave.”

Amy Kay rushes to my side, lays her hands on my shoulders, and squeezes imploringly. “He didn't hurt me. Go easy, Trent. Please. For mom.”

Damn.

I can't deny the tremor in her voice, no matter how much the manic fuck on the floor deserves a kick to the throat, too. I'll have to settle for answers instead.

“Why'd you come here, Jace? Start talking.” I stop bending, just short of breaking his wrist.

“Why. The. Fuck. You. Think?” He spits every word, pain crushing his throat. “Mom, asshole. Have to see her. All I'm here to do.”

“Whatever. First, I think I'll have your sister search you for everybody's safety. You'll tell us exactly where you've been the last few weeks. And then, maybe, I'll let you touch base with your folks.”

“Trent...” Amy's voice breezes my ear, pleading and knowing at once.

“You heard me, Presh. Check his pockets. Make sure he hasn't brought any surprises.” If this prick walked into a hospital armed, I will break his wrist. No question.

“You're fucking crazy. Both of you!” The hate stamped on my ex-best friend's face could scare the devil himself.

Slowly, Amy Kay drops off me, stoops on the ground next to her brother, and begins patting him down. His hateful eyes stay trained on me the whole time.

A nurse walks by and does a double take. Probably wondering what the hell's happening on this floor.

Part of me feels guilty, making a scene. Too bad this jackoff didn't leave me any choice.

Any slip up here could cost us and her entire family. We've given him too many passes. I gave him the last he'll ever get the second I decided not to finish hacking his reputation to pieces.

“You're a psycho bastard for doing this,” he snarls, shaking his head as Amy Kay sifts through the pockets in his trousers. “I'm here for her. Ma. Nothing else.”

“Interesting. Next I suppose you'll tell us Portland wasn't on your itinerary the last few weeks.”

“Pacific coast, asshole. Ocean Shores, Coos Bay, Tillamook...got as far as that on highway 101, clearing my head, before I decided not to show up on your doorstep and blow your fucking brains out.” His voice is too harsh to be a bluff. He's telling me the truth.

How kind.

Takes everything I've got not to break his wrist like a twig. “Appreciate your honesty, but something tells me you're not over it that easy. You only stopped after you got the call from Maxwell, didn't you?”

He doesn't answer. Just looks at the ground, staring into his own vicious reflection mirrored on my shoes.

“He's clean.” Amy Kay stands, saunters up to me, her eyes big and green and sweeping. “Let him up. We can always call security.”

Snorting reluctantly, I release him. Jace stands, dusts himself off, maintains an icy distance a few feet away.

“You're both sick.” His finger flies out, stabs me in the chest, but it's Amy Kay he's beaming daggers at. “Especially you, sis. You and everything you've done to this family, running off with him.”

He looks past us, craning his neck to see down the hall. “Where the fuck's dad? Has everybody just lost it? He should've had Usher hauled the fuck out of here the second he walked through the door.”

She shakes her head, tears brimming in her eyes. I'm ready to get in front of her again, but she steps out before I can do anything. Presh sends a crisp slap across her brother's face. “Shut the hell up already. You're an idiot, Jace.”

She's shaking. Equal parts fierce and adorable when she's pissed. “Without this man, you'd probably be in jail. He dragged your demons into the light of day before they consumed you. It's not too late, if you'll grow a pair and stop blaming everybody else just this once.”

I don't like the look on his face one bit. Rather than taking her tough love like a man, the bastard sneers.

My fist tightens, ready and so willing to wipe his face clean.

Asshole's mouth opens, but before he says anything, there's another voice behind us. “What's going on here, peanut?”

Shit. Maxwell.

I turn, unclenching my white-knuckle fist, gazing on the elder Chenocott.

“Finally,” Jace rumbles, turning toward his father. “You see who's here, dad? With her?”

He nods without hesitation. “I'm well aware. Mr. Usher brought your sister home. There's another question I'm more interested in: where in God's name were you, son? I've spent the last twenty-four hours calling.”

Jace slaps his hands against his thighs, doing an exasperated turn. “Jesus Christ, here it comes. Dad, I came the second I heard. Checked out of my shitty little hotel and came running like a good boy. I'm here. Isn't that enough? Or maybe I should've wasted precious time yammering on the phone, not knowing you were both having a fucking pow-wow with the asshole who put my life in ruins, waiting to ambush me the second I came back.”

“Jace?” Amy Kay cuts between them, her voice a soft whisper. She waits for her brother's eyes. “Shut up. This is about mom. Not you, as difficult as that is to believe.”

His eyes widen, then turn sharp enough to cut diamond. Give me one reason. One excuse to pound this fuck through the floor.

“Enough crap. I'm going to see mom.” He brushes past us, closer to Maxwell, who gives his son a look like he's sizing up a dangerous animal he's crossed unexpectedly in the woods.

“Jace, no,” Maxwell says sternly, quick-stepping after him down the hall. “Visiting hours are over for the night. They have to run more tests early tomorrow. She needs rest. I promise, first thing in the morning you'll –”

“You're insane, too, aren't you?” Jace snaps, whirling around. He reaches out, as if he's ready to put his hands on his own father.

Thankfully I'm not far behind. The look I give him makes him think better of it.

“Get out of my way, old man,” he warns again. “Not waiting for tomorrow. Shit, you think I'm the reason she's here, don't you? Her own fucking son?”

Maxwell says nothing. Just reaches out, grabs Jace's shoulder, and pulls with all his might. The force stuns all of us. Especially Jace, who rocks backward, has to do a quick dance to regain his footing. “I said tomorrow, son. Don't make me say it again. What do you think this is? Rules are rules. I don't write them here.”

Jace blinks once. “Rules? Now you care about rules? Even though there's a wanted fucking criminal next to us with his hands all over Amy Kay? The same criminal prick who actually busted mom up this bad, screwing with my life...” I see his teeth again, chewing words like something vile in his mouth. “Just unbelievable. Where the fuck's security? If you won't get them involved to put a stop to this crap, I will.”

“You'll do nothing!” Maxwell bellows. There's always something shocking about a clean, civilized man hitting his limit, becoming unhinged. “Jace Calhoun Chenocott, if you take another step toward her room, I swear to God almighty I'll call the police. For you. There's only one person in this hall sowing chaos. Whatever wrongs Trent did us all those years ago, it's not him.”

My eyes digest the grisly scene. Amy Kay gasps, clings to me so hard her fingers bruise my bicep. I don't even care.

I'm waiting for Jace to freak out, get nasty, get violent. It's bound to happen. Any second. And it'll be on me to step in. Stop the uproar before anybody gets hurt.

It never happens.

Jace's shoulders slump, his head hangs for the longest second, and then he looks up. Hatred seethes in his eyes. It's the first time I've seen him look at his own flesh and blood the same way he does me. “I hate you,” he snarls.

“Jace, if you'll –” Maxwell cuts in, tries to get closer, but Jace throws his hand off.

“Stay the fuck away! You're dead to me. All of you.” His eyes flit from his father to Amy Kay, so much darkness spilling out. Then they land on me. “And you, Usher, this isn't over. Not by fucking half.”

My fists are up. I'm expecting him to lash out as he walks by, but he just keeps going. Slams his fist on the elevator button so hard a night nurse walking by gives him a dirty look.

“Jace...where are you going?” Presh asks softly.

He turns, looks up, a second before the elevator's steel doors slam shut, hiding his nasty face. “Home.”

He's gone for more than a minute before we move. Before anyone speaks.

“I should go after him,” Amy Kay whispers quietly, releasing her death grip on my arm. “He's crazy. Confused. He might do anything.”

“Bad idea.” Maxwell steps up, pulls his daughter from me, holds her to his chest. “Let me handle this. It's my fault I didn't lay down the law a long time ago.”

“No. Dad, no way, you can't blame yourself for anything he's doing. He's out of his flipping gourd.”

“Amy Kay, listen. He's going to the house. I'll head back there and find him in an hour or so. After I wrap up one last check with your mom's nurses. Stay here. Stay with Trent. Until I call, and let you know the coast is clear.”

Her eyes go huge. Terrified. “You shouldn't. Dad, don't go after him alone. You can't know what he'll –”

“He's a disturbed young man. Not a monster. I stopped believing in those some time ago,” he says, turning to me on the last part. “I'll talk your brother down like always. He's capable of hurting himself. Capable of incredibly stupid, destructive decisions, sure. But he'd never lift a hand against us. That, I'm certain.”

I'm not. Neither is Presh.

Know it by the way her little mouth falls open. The words, the bitter truth we've had to face, the full hellish extent of what Jace can do hangs on the tip of her tongue.

I give her a look, speaking with my eyes. Not now, darling. There'll be a better time. Don't smash his heart to pieces all over again.

As if sensing what I'm trying to say, she gives a subtle nod, then looks at Maxwell again. “Call us, dad. The very second you're home. We'll wait.”

“Understood, peanut.” He pushes his wry smile to her forehead, planting a firm kiss. Before he turns, heading back into the hall, he lets out a sigh, locking eyes with me one last time. “I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of this. Though that's how it always was, I suppose.”

“That's how it always is with family,” I say, extending a hand.

Maxwell Chenocott takes it, gives it a vigorous shake, and then he's gone.

By the time I turn, Amy Kay is on me again, whispering in my ear. “Let's go. While he's busy. We should get to the house, scope things out. We'll wait for dad to do whatever he needs to, but I'm not leaving him alone. We'll be close behind if Jace tries anything crazy. Anything more, I mean.” Her voice sours, strain creeping in.

She still doesn't want to believe it. None of us do. But fuck, I'll never forget his crazy eyes, or the raw venom seeping out between his teeth.

It wasn't just the usual idle threats from an edgy fuck who's gotten himself in too deep.

He's pissed off. Wounded. Backed into a corner.

I grab her hand, give it a squeeze, wait for her to look at me.

“I'll scout your place out ahead of him.”

“You? Hey wait a second–”

“Precious, listen: he looked like he was ready to kill somebody. He's fighting crazy. Mad as hell. That energy will go somewhere if he doesn't drink himself in a stupor. If he doesn't turn it on himself first, it'll be on someone else, and I'm not letting that be Maxwell. Or you. Understand?”

“Trent, if it's dangerous, we'll do this together. Only option. I have to come with.” She pushes her fingers against mine, harder and harder, lines splitting her face. “If he's fighting crazy, like you say, what do you think he'll do if you show up unannounced?”

Exactly what I hope to fuck he'll do.

Lash out. Charge. Use me as a shock absorber, a buffer, a shield so nobody else gets hurt.

I'm also confident he'll go down easy. If he hasn't snorted or drunk or blazed himself into a blinding stupor by the time I'm there, then I'm willing to give up every penny I own.

But I see Presh won't give up. Not this time. Not after I've admitted how dangerous this is.

“Fine,” I bite off, a reluctant sigh trapped in my lungs. “You're staying in the car.”

“Whoa, that's not –”

“It's the only thing I'll agree to, Precious. We have the driver bring us out there. You stay put while I go over the gate, see what the situation is. Once I know he's not ready to tear anybody limb-from-limb, then you'll see him. If all goes well, he'll be tucked in for the night, and I'll be gone before your dad shows up and catches himself in the middle of more shit.”

She bites her lip, face strained, not liking anything I'm saying. But she knows this is as far as I'll bend.

“All right. Let's go. Dad said an hour.”

It's a wicked irony there's almost as much tension in the air the second time we climb onto an elevator together.

* * *

An hour later, the driver pulls up to the house. I get out, run to the usual vine-covered spot on the wall where I always climb over, looking back one more time to make sure Amy Kay's sweet butt stays in the car.

She does. Told her it wouldn't be long.

I move, clambering onto the property, looking for signs of Jace. There's a stillness in the air. The electric, foreboding kind that's there before a storm.

The keys Presh handed over clink in my hand. I'm gripping them tight so there's no movement, no jingle in my pocket.

I do it because I need the silence. If I'm brutally honest, though, it's also stress relief.

There's something here I can't pin down that scares the shit out of me.

Lights twinkle, giving every window a dirty golden glow. Only, it's the ultra-lit configuration I've seen too many times in high society. It's the lights left on by the servants heading home for the evening.

Too vacant looking. Too quiet. Too fucking eerie.

His car is in the driveway. Parked crooked. First sign the asshole's alive, here, and probably as insane as ever.

Also means I can't go through the front.

I round the backside of the house, brushing past the tree I always used to get to Presh's room.

Perfect timing, too.

The sky opens up in a near-monsoon. The angry showers sweeping through Seattle earlier deepen, a royally pissed off Zeus throwing a flood at the world.

“Lovely,” I growl under my breath. Only silver lining is the sudden burst giving extra cover, helping obscure my advance.

Back of the house, I remember. Service door. The one that comes out by storage, where the servants keep most of the yard supplies, next to the second mud room. I remember the layout of the house like yesterday. Easier tonight, maybe, when I don't have the luxury of a beautiful woman up in her room, waiting to invite me in.

Said beautiful woman is stuck in the car with baited breath. Depending on me. Silently mouthing prayers to whatever powers in this universe will keep me and Jace from murdering each other.

I slide the key in the lock and turn, reaching for the knob. I'm in.

Inside the house, I press myself against the wall, straining my eardrums. It's freakishly quiet in here, too. My heartbeat pounds in my throat.

Okay, quick scan. Get in, get out.

Find him. If you can't, move on.

The first sign of life is the kitchen. It's a fucking war zone. I blink several times, trying to process the full disaster in front of me.

Glass shards everywhere. Ceramic pieces mingling with diamond cut knives, broken crystal catching the dull light, priceless China pulverized to specks barely bigger than gravel.

It's like a raging bull came through, but at least a bull only charges after it's provoked for good reason.

The dining room was spared, thank God. And there's nothing worse than a broken mirror in one of the bathrooms on the main floor. I head upstairs, quickly scan the rooms, see them in order.

Downstairs, though...downstairs is a fucking mess. Just dirty, destructive chaos.

Maxwell's beautiful library has holes through it. Literal gunshots.

I see the prize hunting rifle he used to have hanging in the corner on the floor, a heavy dent in its barrel. A family heirloom Jace somehow found ammunition for, it's blown out the windows, annihilated several shelves of books, torn out their wood support.

Like civilization itself spilling its guts.

Before, I was stunned. Now, looking around, taking it in, I'm completely pissed.

Asshole Jace has to pay. If I can find him.

I don't think he's in the house. Not after his violent binge. He's got to be outside.

I'm halfway to the service door, swinging around Ophelia's custom solarium, which remains mercifully intact, when I see it from the window.

A light on in the boathouse. Fuck.

My heart pounds like mad, picturing the havoc he'll wreak on the Wilkie.

I stare at the light, streaming through the open door. Then grit my teeth, swallow my fear, and wheel around.

He's in there. I fucking know he is. Irony stabs my intestines, adding weight to the portal to hell in front of me.

The place where this started years ago is where it has to end.

I push my way outside and try not to shiver. The cold rain runs down my already numb spine in rivulets.

Closing my eyes, I picture the one thing that keeps me sane. Amy Kay's beautiful face. Hopeful. Patient. Counting on me.

I hide my phone beneath the cover of my hand, typing out a quick message. I can't lie to her again, but I also can't bring her face-to-face with this horror. It isn't even over. So, I just tell her the truth.

Trent: Precious, stay put. Coast is almost clear but it's not good. NOT GOOD. Stall your father. Don't move until I say.

I also send a text to my driver, ordering him to switch to Plan B: keep Presh in the car by any means possible. Unless I say otherwise.

Then I shut my phone completely off. She'll be sending me a flurry of texts, no doubt, and I can't have them going off. Not even silently.

I'm too busy, planting my boot up a psychotic backstabber's ass, and discovering how far it reaches until it finds some common sense.