“You don’t really think that?” We’re standing in the living area, and Bree’s voice rises to a frantic pitch as she clutches my hands and looks into my eyes. “I love those little girls. I haven’t—I didn’t—”

I press my lips together. I don’t want to believe it. I don’t. But Damien’s right. There’s a risk. And maybe there were even signs.

“I’m sorry,” I say, holding firm. “But you’ve been acting strange, Bree. I’ve noticed it for a few weeks.”

She shakes her head, her eyes wide, but she doesn’t say anything.

“I—I don’t want to believe it. But we can’t risk our daughter.” I draw a deep breath. “Damien and I stand together on this.”

“Acting strange.” She makes a scoffing noise. “Of course. Isn’t that just perfect?”

“What?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m going to my cell.” She tilts her head, indicating Ryan’s team. “Who’s my babysitter?”

Michael, a lanky black guy with a serious expression and a sleeve of tats stands up. He doesn’t say a word, just waits for Bree to head toward the guest house.

She takes a few steps toward the stairs, then stops and turns back. “The irony is that I was acting weird because I love it here so much. I didn’t want to leave. But I didn’t know how to tell you guys that I wanted to stay instead of going to New York for grad school.” Tears stream down her cheeks. “Seemed wrong, somehow, since you guys were so supportive.”

I swallow. “Bree…”

“Yeah, well. Whatever.” She looks from Michael to Ryan. “Does the prisoner get to use her phone? Can I have guests? Like, can Rory come over? And do me the courtesy of telling me if there are cameras in my bedroom.”

“No cameras,” I say, then hope I’m not lying. “And you can have guests. You can leave the guest house for the grounds,” I add. “But you can’t say anything about the kidnapping. That could put Anne in danger.”

The fire fades from her eyes, and she nods. “Right. Of course.”

Throughout it all, Damien’s said nothing. He’s simply watched her from where he’s now sitting on the sofa. She meets his eyes, and I see her lips press tight together. I know him well enough to see the doubt on his face. But doubt isn’t enough to make him back off. Not with Anne’s safety on the line.

I doubt, too. But I stand with Damien, just like I told Bree.

“Briefing,” Ryan says, his attention on his team. “Everyone not reporting in, go take a ten minute break.”

The team scatters, with some leaving for the kitchen or bathrooms, and some coming to the living area where the rest of us are gathered.

Damien rises, then pulls me into his arms. He says nothing, but he holds me close, his arms tight around me, and I melt against him, needing his strength. Right now, though, he feels broken, too, and he clings to me the same way that I cling to him, each of us searching for strength in the other. And I’m afraid, so terribly afraid, that there’s not enough between us.

I try to focus on the voices as Quincy paces the room, running through what we know, who they’ve investigated, what they think. But it’s too much of a blur. Anne dominates my thoughts, terror cutting through me. Minutes are ticking away, we still haven’t had a ransom demand, my nanny may be involved, and I’m helpless. So goddamn helpless.

And Damien is helpless, too.

I’m sitting on the floor, my knees pulled up to my chest. He’s standing by the window, looking out at the ocean. He looks tall. Commanding. But it’s all an act. I know him too well. There’s defeat in his posture. And that terrifies me most of all.

“—with Jeremiah,” Charles says, yanking my attention back to the meeting. Jeremiah Stark is Damien and Jackson’s father. And I wouldn’t put it past him to kidnap his grandchild if he thought there was an upside for him.

Damien turns as well. “What did you say?”

“I said that Jeremiah’s had several surreptitious meetings with Richard Breckenridge. My people did some poking around, and it appears that he’s invested heavily with Breckenridge.”

Damien’s face hardens. “Before, you mean. Before Anne was taken?”

“Well before,” Charles says, his voice heavy with meaning. “And it was a significant investment.”

I’m not sure I understand, but I can see the news disturbs Damien, and I go to him, comforted when he pulls me close.

“So Jeremiah also lost a ton when The Domino fell through for Breckenridge,” Ryan says, nodding to himself. “They could be in it together, or either one of them could be acting on his own.”

“You really think that Breckenridge could be behind this?” I ask. “For a failed investment?”

Charles looks at Damien. “You didn’t tell her?”

I look between them, panic rising. “Tell me what?”

For a moment, there’s complete silence in the room. Then Damien shoves his hands into his pockets. He looks first at the floor, then at me. “Breckenridge told me he’d destroy me when I cut him out of The Domino. He said that he’d make sure I got knocked off my pedestal. That he’d hit me where it hurts.”

I open my mouth to speak, but it’s gone completely dry. I lick my lips and try again. “And you didn’t think to tell me that?” My voice sounds far away. Hollow.

“Nikki.” There’s a plea in his tone as he steps toward me. Broken, I think again. How can Damien be broken? “Nikki, please.”

I realize that I’ve taken a step backward, my head shaking from side to side. “All your talk about trust,” I say. “All your demands.” I wrap my arms around myself, thinking about Masque. About trusting him so wholly. So completely. And about him needing that same trust from me.

“How can you not have told me this? If not before, then after we found the notes on my car and graffiti on my walls? And Anne? Did you just not think about it after our daughter was taken? How the hell could you not tell me?”

I turn in a circle, feeling lost, my hands going into my hair, and I pull on it, as if I can tug the pain free. The loss.

“Nikki, please. I never thought—”

“Damn right,” I snap, then lift a hand. “Just stop. Just stop.”

Across the room, Jamie’s phone rings, and all heads turn to her. She glances at the screen, then looks up at Ryan. “It’s Ollie,” she says. “Can I answer?”

Ryan nods. Jamie’s phone isn’t hooked into the network, so she’s the only one hearing the conversation. I wish it was on speaker. I want to hear him. I need him. Other than Damien, Jamie and Ollie are my rocks, and although we’ve drifted apart, now that his call has put him firmly in my mind, I realize how empty I feel without having him here to lean on.

“We can’t,” Jamie says. Her voice is tight, obviously on the verge of tears. “No—everything’s terrible. I’m—yes. I’m at Nikki’s. Can you come over?” She nods. “I’ll tell you when you get here. See you soon.”

She hangs up and looks at me. “Ollie just got to town. He’s at Upper Crust. He wanted us to meet him.”

I nod. He doesn’t know, of course. How could he since we’ve managed to keep it out of the press? And while I don’t want to relive everything that’s happened, at the same time, I want my friend beside me.

“You’ve been working him too hard,” Jamie says to Charles, who frowns.

“Ollie hasn’t worked for the firm in almost two months,” Charles tells her.

“Oh.” Jamie frowns, meeting my eyes, as confused as I am. “Well, I just assumed.”

“Maybe he was embarrassed to tell us he lost his job?” I direct the question toward Charles, who shakes his head.

“He wasn’t terminated. Ollie was doing well.”

I’m baffled, and I glance toward Damien out of habit and am surprised by the expression on his face. As if he’s puzzling something out. As if pieces are falling into place.

“Damien?”

He lifts his head, his gaze steady on mine. “I’m not sure he was. Doing well, I mean.”

I think about his house. What Jamie said about his debt. I swallow. This is one of my best friends we’re talking about.

Damien looks at Ryan, who looks miserable. Ryan swallows, then looks between Jamie and me. Then he turns to Quincy, who rubs his chin. It’s been a while since he shaved, and I hear the sandpaper-like sound of his hand over the scruff.

“Bloody hell,” Quincy says. “Ollie’s been in town since yesterday.”

“So what?” Jamie says. Then her eyes widen. “Wait, you’ve been looking at Ollie for the kidnapping? You guys seriously already have Orlando McKee on your suspect list? Like he would ever—ever—hurt Nikki. That’s bullshit. That is total, fucking bullshit.”

I’m glad she’s saying it, because I feel too lost to even capture my own thoughts. Like the nightmare is spinning me down into a deep, deep vortex, and there’s no one there to throw me a rope. Not even Damien.

“Him saying that he just got into town could mean anything,” Jamie continues. “It doesn’t mean he’s been sneaking around kidnapping children. He’s not obligated to ring us the second he gets off a plane.”

“He asked me for money,” Damien says, and I turn to him in shock. “Fifty grand. About a month ago.”

I blink, trying to focus. To understand. “Did you give it to him?”

A moment passes, then another. Then Damien shakes his head. “No.”

I sit. “I see.” I draw in a breath. “One of my best friends. The friend who got me through all that bullshit with Kurt.”

Damien flinches, as does Jamie. They’re the only two in the room who know what I’m talking about. How Kurt ripped me apart because of my cutting all those years ago. And how Ollie held me and soothed me and put me back together. He was there for me before Damien was. Hell, if it wasn’t for Ollie—and Jamie—I’m not sure I would have Damien now. I’m not sure I’d have anything now.

“My friend asks you for help—for an amount that means nothing to you. And not only do you turn him down, but you don’t even tell me.”

“It’s not what you think,” he says.

“No,” I agree. “It’s worse.” Everything is piling on. Brick after brick, wearing me down until I feel like I’m going to get hammered right into the ground. Until I’m going to get sucked under and disappear altogether.

“Nikki.” Damien is in front of me, his hands on my upper arms. “It’s not what you think,” he says again. “And we will get her back.”

I want to believe him, but I’m too lost. Too scared. And instead of speaking, I make a strangled gasping sound, then wrench myself out of his grip. My hand goes over my mouth as I hurry toward the girls’ room, only to be intercepted by Evelyn.

“Whoa there, Texas. It’s going to be okay.”

I wish I could believe her, but all I can do is shake my head. Secrets and lies and obfuscation. It never ends. It just never fucking ends. “I thought I was stronger than this,” I say.

“You are,” she says. “What you two are going through would break anybody. But you’re not broken, Texas,” she says. “A little bent, maybe.”

I actually smile, and it feels good. A random thought comes into my head, and I tilt my head as I look at Evelyn. “Are you the one keeping the press out of this? Or have we just got lucky that they haven’t caught wind of it yet?”

Evelyn Dodge is a powerhouse in this town. She’s held every job imaginable, including publicity. Now she works as an agent, representing Lyle and Jamie, among many others. “See? You are lucky. I would have heard if they knew,” she said. “So far, crickets. And I’ll do my best to keep it that way.”

“Good. I figured,” I add. “If it was out there, her bosses would have Jamie in front of me with a microphone.”

“What? Oh. Yes. Of course, they would.”

I watch Evelyn’s face, and feel my own crumple. “You, too?” I ask.

She frowns, clearly baffled by my question.

“Everyone’s trying to protect me. I hoped you’d be straight. For that matter, considering you’re a powerhouse of an agent, I figured you were a better liar. But something’s going on with Jamie that you’re not telling me.”

She snorts. “And that’s why I love you, Texas.”

“So?”

She looks miserable as she steers me to the relative privacy of the kitchen. “She didn’t want you to worry, so you say nothing. You swear?”

I nod, pretty sure I know what’s coming. “Lacey Dunlop? They fired Jamie and put in Lacey Dunlop?”

Evelyn shakes her head. Not in denial, but in disbelief. “Jamie’s so much better, but those asshats wouldn’t know real talent if it was sucking their collective dicks.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Because, honestly, it’s not funny at all. “What’s she going to do?”

Evelyn waves away my words. “Right now, she’s here for you. That’s an exact quote, by the way. And after Anne is back and safe and happy, I’ll send her out on interviews. She’ll end up with a better gig and more money, and fuck them.”

“I like that plan.” I fear it’s too optimistic, though. I know how competitive the market is. And if her station deemed her less appealing than Lacey Dunlop…

I let the thought go. For the time being, at least, my best friend’s career is the least of my worries. But, damn, I love her for putting me and my family first.