I 'm done with the bottle and beating my knuckles raw on the punching bag in my gym after a couple days. This isn't helping me do anything except blow off steam, and it damned sure won't win her back .

Not that I'm about to come crawling .

I don't know what I'm dealing with .

I talk with the kid when he comes around, feeling him out for info. He doesn't know where she's gone, or why, or what she's truly thinking. I believe him .

I've never let my personal life bleed into my career. I spend the next couple days at the office, plowing through work. With the hacking situation behind us, I've got Cal's marketing campaign in review, going through final approval .

Forecasting the new millions bound to enrich this firm and ourselves has never been so fucking boring .

I'm guzzling coffee, trying not to fall asleep, or else let the potent brew put the chip back on my shoulder when my line to the front desk rings. I'm not expecting any heavy calls, but I'll welcome any distraction from burnout .

“Sir? There's a man from Iceland calling. Says it's urgent .”

My fist freezes on my desk, coiled like a rattlesnake. Jonas .

When it rains, apparently it fucking pours .

“Put him through, Rachel,” I tell the secretary. I hear his nasally breath the second the line picks up. “I don't have much time, cousin. Make it fast .”

“Wonderful. You'll shut up and listen then, Cade, because I only need a minute. Just wanted to give you a courtesy call to let you know the shit show's over. You're not marrying her. You're pretending, trying to pull the wool over everybody's eyes, and I've got proof. My lawyer has it together real neat, too .”

Fuck. There's no end in sight to my problems multiplying. I try not to let rage take full control of my mouth. Whatever he thinks he knows, I need to get it out of him. No easy task when my heart is busy kickboxing my ribs .

“Let's talk about this. Whatever you think you've got, it's wrong. Take a deep breath before you make a huge ass of yourself. Does our family really need this? Us bickering over that goddamned place? Think about it, Jonas. Think hard, before you get yourself into a sticky situation your lawyer won't be able to pull you out of.” I'm totally bluffing, using my most diplomatic voice .

“Ah, there's the asshole I was waiting to hear from. Thanks for reminding me why I'll relish taking Turnbladt away from you, Cade. Your side was always uptight. Better than us. More money, more entitled, more impatient when the entire world didn't fall down and kiss your barely Icelandic-American asses. You shut up and listen, Yankee Doodle, because I'm not saying this twice. You're not getting what's mine. Ever. The courts have plenty to nullify your inheritance rights. Sorry your fake marriage scheme didn't work .“

“You're delusional, Jonas. Stop and listen to what you're saying. Jesus Christ, you think I don't love her? You think I'm not ready to haul Skye over my shoulder any day just to marry her, proudly, and disprove whatever the fuck it is you think you've found? You make me goddamned sick!” My fist bangs my chest .

So much for calm, collected, diplomatic. Just talking about Skye fills my veins with vinegar .

I'm losing it on these lies, these wishes. Everything I'm dead serious about doing, and everything I can't because she's nowhere to be found, and the heart I thought I had locked down is wilder and more unpredictable than ever .

“Good. We're both gagging then. Expect to hear from my lawyer tomorrow. I suppose this is goodbye, cousin. I'd say it was a pleasure...but it never was. Dealing with your lying, pompous, prideful ass has been a special hell. Don't bother trying to cut any last minute deals. I'm not negotiating with you or your idiot parents. Oh, and before we go, you'll appreciate the fact I called your mother first. I knew she'd take the news better than you .”

“You...what?” My heart stops. Then the world .

It's my worst nightmare realized .

Fuck! Hellfire rushes out of me, and my stomach gurgles, digesting a shock so intense it sends me racing for my seat, before I fall down cold .

“You heard me the first time. Goodbye, Cade. Let your riches be a lovely consolation. Maybe someday, when the amusement park is built, I'll send you a day pass .”

The line clicks dead. Static buzzes in my hot ear, glued to the phone, before I rip it away and slam it into its dock .

My face is in my hands. There's no time to call legal, who probably has a better idea than I do how the asshole got the information he's so sure of, or they certainly will shortly .

I need to check on mother. I race down the hall, slapping the elevator button impatiently at the end of it, ignoring Spence when he walks past, and does a double take before I'm rushing down .

Dad isn't answering my frantic calls. Not on the way into the garage, where I've got my car parked after driving myself this morning, or after I'm inside, barking voice commands at the digital assistant to connect his number over and over again .

I wish to holy hell Skittle were here. She'd soothe me before I light my life on fire, before I give into the urge to purchase a one way ticket to Europe to skin that weasel alive .

If anything happened to mom, he's dead. Several times over .

I fight the rush hour traffic to my parents' place, wheel gripped in icy silence, praying I don't see an ambulance once I roll through their wrought iron gates .

* * *

T he roads are complete bullshit today. I've always been good at navigating the evening rush, being Seattle born and raised, but not today .

It takes forever to make my way across town. I'm halfway to their place in the first rung high end suburbs before the calls start coming in, none from anyone I want to talk to right now .

First Cal, then Spence, both leaving worried messages on my voicemail, asking what the fuck is up .

I'll fill them in later. But I can't ignore my lawyer so easy .

“Yeah?” I growl into my Bluetooth. “What have you heard ?”

“Ah, you already know. Well, I suppose that makes this easier ...”

Carter's voice is soft, tentative, afraid. And he should be. The one thing that pisses me off more with bad news are the people holding it in .

“Just spit it the fuck out,” I tell him. My patience has run out. I wonder if my mind is already in the same gutter where I left my heart after Skittle tore it out. “What does he have? Tell me !”

Sure, I don't have the foul, shoot-the-messenger temper other guys in this industry are known for, but anybody who serves me understands I have zero tolerance for sugar-coating fuckery .

“Big dump came in today from Iceland. Your cousin's lawyer, of course. There's a lot redacted in the files he sent over...but it's damning, I'm sorry to say. I don't know how to say this, Cade, but I think we're hosed. He has an audio recording of you and Ms. Coyle, both admitting your relationship is less than authentic .”

“Shit!” My fist hits the wheel. I get a grip again before I narrowly miss a reckless truck flying past. A small part of me is disappointed it doesn't smash through my door, and end my misery now. “How'd he get his paws on that? I don't understand, Carter. Makes no fucking sense .”

“We're working that out, and we'll get to the bottom of it soon, I'm sure. I hate to tell you, there's more .”

I resist the urge to bang my head against the dashboard. I wait for him to carve another piece of hell and plop it down on my plate .

“He got a copy of the pre-nup somehow,” Carter says, almost in a whisper. “He had access to our systems, or an email tied into them. We've been compromised .”

Ice. Needles. Chills worse than any I ever felt on a Reykjavik winter courses up my spine, hits my brain, and douses the raging fire in my soul .

I'm not livid anymore. I'm gobsmacked. I'm beaten, and I don't even know how .

“I'll have to go to IT with this.” He's still talking. “We need forensics to find out where this breach came from. I'm sure they'll love me after the last situation, just a couple weeks ago, but there's no choice. We have to figure out –“

“It's the same hack. The sneaky, greasy haired puke was behind them all the whole time, and I was too fucking blind to see it. He's been fucking with us before Skye ever came into the picture.” I'm grinding each word through my teeth .

It's physically painful .

Just a couple months ago, when the biggest thing on my mind was how to get Skittle in my bed, Cal and Spence sat with me in a meeting with the tech wonks. We considered it a small miracle whatever asshole broke into our system wasn't making any big moves with the client data .

They downloaded so much, threatened to leak it to the media, but then never followed through with dumping those files on the deep web for sale to every other vicious shark and fraudster .

Now, we know why .

Jonas was always a few steps ahead. He never trusted me. He broke into our database, combing through it, searching for anything juicy he could use on me or the firm by proxy .

Before Skittle, there was nothing. He must have worked like a dog to find anything new, and probably struck gold just recently, after I sent him packing at dinner, tail tucked between his legs .

That still doesn't explain the audio, though. Were we bugged ?

If only I had time to fly to Iceland to find out, and then strangle his conniving ass ...

“I...don't know about that, sir. But we'll figure it out, I promise. I'll have an update by morning .”

“Work off my theory. Don't care how much you don't want to believe it. Call me when you've got something concrete.” I'm done .

It's a long, rainy drive to my parents' place. Tension boils my gut for another half hour. I hope to every god in heaven I won't find my mother suffering or dead .

That goes double for my AWOL fiancée, too. There's no time to track her down like I want, not with so many wolves ripping my day apart. But damn if I won't be on her, first chance I get, and it won't be Mr. Nice Guy next time .

There's a fierce sadness, a longing when I think of her. And it's got nothing on how bad she's pissed me off .

How fucking dare you, Skittle .

How dare you shut me out .

How dare you walk away .

How dare you cling to your poison secrets .

Are you pretending they're stronger than our love, or are you so delusional you believe it ?

I don't know. I don't care. I don't know what life is if I can't have her back, after I've turned her world right-side up, but first I've got to make sure mine doesn't chew me up .

* * *

“D ad? Dad, open the door!” I'm soaked, standing on their porch, slamming my fist on the stained glass so hard I'm worried it'll break .

This seems weirdly familiar. Then I remember why .

Flashback to sixteen .

I came home limping after the fistfight with Spence. My best friend bit me – yes, fucking bit me – and the blood seeping out of my arm made me look like a bigger mess than I was .

I slapped the door just like this. Worried as hell how hard dad would come down on me when he saw my torn skin, and then how I'd explain chasing the little slut who caused this .

I hadn't learned no pussy is worth violence between brothers yet .

Someone else was on my side that day, despite the sin I laid on Spence .

Mom opened the door. She gasped, pulled me in, and marched me up to the bathroom. She didn't ask for details beyond a mandatory is this the end of it? I didn't give her any. She dressed my scratches and bruises with a tender touch and a warning in her eyes. I slunk off to my room later, sleeping off the humiliation, an understanding between us never hashed out in words .

That's the funny thing about mothers. You never appreciate how kind the good ones are until they're gone, or so close to the end it makes a heart run cold .

Mine's barely beating when I finally see a silhouette behind the glass. Dad rips the door open. I know his look right away. He's older, wiser, more feeble than the bulldog he used to be, but damn if he doesn't have the same tone of voice he did before I knew right and wrong from my own ass .

“I don't even want to hear it, Cade.” He holds his hand out, pushing it into my chest .

“You heard my calls, and you didn't answer? What the hell? Where is she?” I hate having to push back, but he's left me no choice. Dad stumbles against the big closet in our mudroom, reluctantly making way for me. “Is mom okay? Is she alive? Christ, just answer me !”

His eyes go harder, the pinprick light left in them dwindling. “No, son. Neither of us are, if you want to know the harsh truth. You lied to us. Played us for goddamn fools .”

He isn't telling me anything. I guess that's why his savage accusation only feels like an arrow, and not Excalibur's sword plunging through my chest. “Skye? The marriage? Come on. It's not like I had any choice. Don't you realize I only did this to look after –“

I stop mid-sentence, ears ringing, wondering why the world just exploded red. Then my nose aches like I rammed it into a wall, a split second before the hot blood seeps into my mouth .

“Holy shit,” I mumble, staring at the red splash on my fingers for confirmation, before I look him in the eye seeing stars. “Did you just...punch me ?”

“I did, son. Damn it, I did, and I'm sorry. Doesn't mean you didn't deserve it.” Rage hisses out his nostrils. Then he throws an arm around my neck, reaching into his pocket for the handkerchief he always keeps handy. “I don't know what came over me. I know you're worried about her. You hurt us, but you didn't deserve –“

“Stefan! What's the meaning of this?” My very feisty, very alive mother appears in the hall, blocking us .

I've never been more thrilled to see her pissed and disappointed. It lasts for roughly a second before I realize she has every reason to be, and I'm the asshole responsible .

“Mom! Listen, I –“

“No, Cade. I've heard plenty today. I don't have the heart for more excuses. We'll talk.” She pauses in front of me, staring at the hand on my face. It's impossible to hold onto her anger the longer she sees me hurt. I'm almost sorry she can't because I really hate seeing her heartsick rather than pissed. “But first, I want you to clean yourself up, and think very carefully what you have to say before we sit down. I know everything. Your father filled me in after Jonas called. I'm never going to see my tea house again, but that's not the worst of it .”

Oh, Christ. It's worse than I thought. I don't know how she's standing .

“That's not why I'm hurting. Stefan, please.” She clucks her tongue, shooting my father a dirty look when he sends me a far dirtier one. “I don't care about losing Turnbladt. That's nothing compared to my only son deciding he'd rather weave an extravagant lie – and over such happy news! – rather than treat me like an adult. I'm not so fragile I'll break like bad China over a few disappointments, you know .”

I'm torched. And I deserve every last burn, inside and out, hanging my head like a scorned animal. “Mom, wait. It isn't like that. I –“

“Go clean up, son.” Dad growls next to her. “We'll sit down and talk about this like she said. Sorry again about getting physical. Haven't done that in years, and I wish I hadn't. If you need anything, holler .”

I drag my miserable ass upstairs, taking the bathroom not far from my old room. Taking my sweet time, I stare at the rusty liquid spiraling down the drain. If only it were this easy to purify everything else .

My eyes go to the reflection in the mirror. Dad got in a good one, busting my lip slightly on top of the crunched nose .

Honestly, I'm fucking glad. The pain makes this more real, forces me to think harder than I've been able to over the past week since she left .

Lies are what got me here. But damn it, they also got me Skittle .

Our white lie marriage fix was far from noble. I'm done pretending it ever was .

Still, there's no denying it became a whole lot more. What began as a bid to protect my mother like she never needed just jammed itself like a key through my heart, twisting and opening truths I never saw .

Confessions haven't helped much lately. There's only one I wish I could change .

Telling Skittle the truth about us, blowing my proposal...those were mistakes. And then I made the biggest one, letting her walk away without telling me how the fuck to fix it .

No more .

If dad wants to throw another punch, or mom chews me out, I'm ready. I'm giving them the bitter truth. Everything. Then I'm washing my hands of this mess and going after the only thing I might still salvage .

Not that I've given up on Turnbladt, or getting even with Jonas. Maybe the laws are clear about his inheritance, per royal bullshit that was laid down long before I was born. I'll still make sure he enjoys his theme park royalties from a padded fucking cell for his hack attack on my company .

Too bad I can't do anything if I don't finish drying my hands, and step back into reality ready to bite so many bullets, I'll lose some teeth .

First thing's first. I'm back at the table, face-to-face with my very hurt parents .

“Okay. Mom, dad, I screwed up and there's no two ways about it. Also know the reasons don't really count anymore. I need you to hear me out.” I feel guilty as hell for sipping the warm tea mom lays out like second nature. Anger never stopped her from loving her family like always .

“Screwed up? Cade, this isn't one of your high school pranks we left behind years ago. You lied to us. Went behind my back and found yourself a wife when I told you not to. Gave me a lot of false hope, and yeah, treated your mother like a fool.” That last part is such an afterthought I think he's more scorned than her .

Irony has no mercy. Never thought dad would be the one I'd have to worry about, but here we are .

“True, everything you just said. If I could do it again, it'd be different. I'd have let you sort it out with the lawyers, like you wanted. Maybe we could've sat down and broken the news gently .”

“Oh, you men. I'm not that fragile.” Mom clinks her cup on its saucer sharply. “All this nonsense would've been avoided if you'd just been honest, Cade. Don't you see ?”

“I do now. That's the part I'll regret for a good, long while, and mom...I'm sorry.” I reach for her hands, grasping them in mine, so small and frail. When I look at her, knowing her health, it's easy to remember why I did this stupid shit. Easier to forget she's made of tougher stuff, and maybe she always had more of it in her than me. “There's also one part I wouldn't change. No excuses, no regrets, no apologies. It's Skye .”

“That girl you hired?” Dad turns his face up, looking down at me .

“Stefan!” Mom slaps at his arm, then looks my way and nods. Continue .

“I'm sorry we couldn't come clean right away. Even sorrier I strung you both along. There's something you don't understand about what happened between her and I .”

Something? No. So much more. They'll never comprehend the majestic chaos I had with that woman when she was in my arms, and the evil void that's there when she isn't. “We started on a lie. I hired her, just like you said, dad, hoping I'd have a cheap ticket to screw over Jonas and save the old place. Then we spent more time together. We had our dinners and hiked up mountains. We started kissing, more than we did for appearances just for you two. It was for us. Before I knew what was happening, we were real .”

What the fuck is happening to my face? This heat, this agony. Somebody pinch me. Tell me I'm not blushing like a damn kid in front of my folks .

“Cade?” Mom's voice is softer, too many questions hanging on her lips. She slides her chair over, the better to lay her soft hand on my back, and coax the poison out of me .

“It's true, mom. Before we ran into some trouble last week, I ran to her, got down on one knee, asked her to marry me. I meant it, too. I want to make Skye my wife. I want her in this family, wearing my ring, rocking your grandkids in front of the tree over Christmas...I have to do it, mom. And whatever the hell just happened between us, there's no way I'm letting her slip away .”

“Son...” Dad isn't so pissed anymore. He just looks dumbfounded. “Katrin, you were right from the get-go. This whole thing is stupid .”

I'm blinking, trying to understand. “Are you...smiling ?”

What the hell? It's like I've slipped into an alternate universe where I'm still the good son, and I haven't just bombed their hearts into the stone age .

“I knew there was more to it,” she says, nodding. “Just wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth .”

“Will somebody explain what's happening ?”

“You pissed me off, son. Then I found out you had a good reason, and now I really regret the fist in your face. Why are you still waiting around here ?”

I shake my head, taking another long pull of tea .

He sighs, mirroring my motion. “Katrin ?”

My parents share a look. Then it's mom's turn to shake her head, wipe a few tears from her eyes, and squeeze my hand like it's taking everything she's got. “Go find her, Cade. Whatever it takes. Life is too short to spend another minute upset about an old tea house thousands of miles away. Love is no relic. It's alive, it's magnetic, and boy, listen good – all is right between us if you've learned to cherish it .”

She's right .

Hell, she's never been more right in my entire life .

I stand. Hug and kiss them both like I haven't for years before I go. Dad pounds me on the back one last time .

The bullshit with Jonas and these roller coaster emotions are vapor by the time I'm through the door .

I shift my car into gear, slowly winding down the driveway, scrolling through my contacts. I punch dial and wait for Fields to pick up .

“Master Turnbladt?” His voice is eager to serve as ever. Today, I'll take it .

“I need you to get my boys on conference call. Now .”

* * *

T he kid has tears in his eyes at home. I find Vinnie sitting on the landing next to my reception room, knees tucked under his chin, fiddling with something in his hand. It's an envelope, Skittle's girly writing, a big DO NOT OPEN scrawled on the front .

Of course, he hasn't obeyed a single word. It's been torn and read .

“Vinnie ?”

He jumps up as soon as I'm less than a foot away. Hiding his face, he pushes the crumpled paper in my hand, sniffing back hot rage. “Just take it. This really sucks. I'm sorry .”

“Wait!” Predictably, the kid doesn't listen, running off. I let him go, remembering how shameful a teenager's tears can be. Plus my heart is beating through my ribs when I unfurl the note in my hand and scan the three terse lines she's scrawled in jelly pink .

T ake care of him, Cade. Please. One last favor .

Don't come looking for me .

I always loved you .

I don't know how long I'm standing there like a fucking statue. I never hear anyone come in, just spin around, ready to bust a lip when a heavy hand falls on my shoulder .

“Bro? What's in your hand?” Spence's wolf blue eyes demand answers .

I wish I had them .

Cal wastes no time waiting for words. He rips it from my hand. He reads the words before I have time for a dirty look. “Start talking. We need answers if you want our help with this...whatever the fuck this is .”

“She's gone.” It's painfully obvious coming out of my mouth, but no less brutal. “Don't know where. She's got an uncle, this asshole criminal –“

“Oh, Christ. Not another one.” Cal is already face palming, letting out a heavy sigh. It doesn't take much for him to remember the unique hell he crawled out of not so long ago. “I can't take the fall this time, but I'm here, Cade .”

“Me too,” Spence growls, rolling up his sleeves. “Let's talk dirt .”

* * *

I t takes hours. It's late, we're making very little progress, and there's nothing in our stomachs except adrenaline and a shot or two of scotch .

We man the lines like in the old days at RET, when our fathers put us to work cold calling rich future clients, before the SEC clamped down. We're working through the company Rolodex, hitting every damn contact we have in government and tech to find someone who owes us a favor big enough to bend the law .

It's Spence who jumps out of his seat so hard his chair rolls, impacting the wall with a loud twack! “Eureka, bros. My man says he's got her cell. He can track it within the hour. Those big gains dad's special funds sent his way and his old NSA connections go a long fucking way .”

I share a look with Cal. He reaches over, slaps my shoulder, and the hardest part comes: wait .

Just wait .

I sit there with my fists balled under the table for the next half hour, watching my laptop, waiting for my phone to vibrate with a message from her. I'm a fool for holding out, thinking she'll realize she's in over her head, and come home on her own. But hope springs eternal. I'm also terrified what I'll do if anything happens to her .

My fingers drift idly over the keys. Between calls, I've been mining data, pulling up old police records in the system our company uses for client security and background checks .

I read about Ophelia Coyle's suicide, something I should have done weeks ago. She was just another anonymous stiff dragged out of the sea cold and lifeless. Took them over a day to identify her, and then receive her writeup in the local news .

Just another mystery death nobody cared about. Not enough to investigate beyond the usual procedural paperwork, anyway .

Amateur detectives knocked it around online later that year. There were two suspects connected with her suicide, a random bum and a man named Harry Coyle. Skye's uncle. Doesn't take long to find his gritty background, his three stints in prison in two different states, and realize this is the 'family friend' Vinnie talked about .

The trail runs cold the deeper I dig. No hobbyists ever found anything damning, and Harry dropped off the face of the earth after he changed his residence to Portland, supposedly to live a quiet life repairing motorcycles .

The Ophelia case is nothing but more questions, and they all make my bile churn .

Ten minutes in, when I've stepped outside my office where we're holed up, pacing toward the water cooler, I see a skinny figure slink behind me. I do a slow turn, the bitter anger I've held in forever breaking out. “Where is she, Vinnie? Did you see anything ?”

His eyes go huge behind his black frames after I close in. I feel like an asshole right away and back up, giving him space, draining my water cup. “Sorry. We're working on finding Skye right now. Been under a lot of stress .”

“It's okay. We had lunch earlier today. She brought me down to our old soup place, said she had some things to talk over, and when I got there...she couldn't shut up about you. She loves you, Cade .”

If his words aren't enough, the sorrow in his eyes twists the arrow in my heart like a screw. I lean against the wall, waiting for more, knowing full well this is the last time for weakness. “What else? What did you two talk about? Think, Vinnie .”

He's wracking his brain. His young eyes jerk from side to side, desperately searching. He stands up straight a second later, scratching his cheek. “I brought up our mom like an idiot. She didn't get mad, just said I was right, which was really, really weird. I'm scared for her. Got an awful feeling she's doing something crazy .”

“She could be.” There's no use lying to the boy. I walk up, lay both hands on his shoulders, and squeeze like we're staring down the end of the world. “But you don't have to worry. I've got this, Vinnie. I'll bring her home, safe and sound, because I love her like mad. I'll die before I lose my chance to make Skye the happiest woman on this planet .”

His eyes are glazed over behind those glasses when he looks up and smiles. Hell, I think mine are, too. My heart strums more venom to my head .

I hope like hell this is a moment my little brother-in-law will remember forever because we beat this .

Not because we lost her .

“You believe me?” I whisper, stooping low so I can look him dead in the eye .

“Yeah,” he says, his soft smile fading. “Yeah, Cade, I do. You're a good guy .”

“Run along and stop worrying. I'll have her home in no time. Tell Fields where you'd like to have dinner tonight. It's on me .”

I watch him go. His footsteps are still padding upstairs when Spence crashes into my back, grinning. “We've got her. Traced the phone to a place in –“

“Let me guess – Bremerton ?”

His mouth hangs open mid-sentence. “Shit, Cade. How'd you know ?”

Again, Ophelia's suicide. I read the police records. I can practically see an older woman with Skittle's good looks and none of the rainbow dye staring into the choppy, cold waters, willing herself to die .

I remember Vinnie's words, how shaken he was when he told me what they talked about. It's obvious where she'll meet her bastard uncle, if that's what she's gone to do .

“We done talking, or what?” Cal says, catching up to us, chugging a coffee. “I'm ready .”

“First, I need to talk to Woollsey. He's got a line to that woman I met at the party, Adele .”

“Adele Allure?” Spence wiggles his eyebrows. “Damn, my man, we need to hear this story .”

“Spencer!” Cal slaps a domineering hand on his shoulder, a warning in his eyes. Then he turns to me. “Seriously, though, what the hell were you doing running around with the richest madam in Seattle? Thought it was a little odd months ago, when I heard you had a chit-chat with Woollsey in private .”

“The how's not important right now,” I growl, swallowing my pride .

Later, they'll hear my confession. I'll tell them how I set off to find a fake bride, crashing my ego into the ground before the love bug got its teeth in for real. Right now, we need to bring her home .

“Just get that player asshole on the line,” I say, nudging Spence hard with my elbow. “He listens when you call. Guess you've got new money and old owing you big favors. Even flippant fucks who have to soak their dicks in champagne pussy twice a week .”

He smiles, pulling out his phone. “Because Mr. Popularity is feeling so generous today, I'll hook you up. And I won't even bother asking you to check that bossy tone .”

I'm ready to bark back, but Cal grabs me around the shoulder, and leads me through the door onto my patio. The blistering cold blowing in across the Puget Sound helps calm me down .

Thank God for these boys. Without their calm, their support, and even their smart-assed quips, I can't fathom where I'd be .

Cal reaches into his coat pocket. My eyes follow his hand as he draws out a long cigar. “One of my old man's last Cubans. Found a couple boxes before he shuffled off his mortal coil. Been saving them for the times that matter .”

He gives it a light and offers me the first hit. I haven't smoked anything in years, not since we were kids, and neither has he .

What the hell? It's customary to have a final smoke before facing death, isn't it ?

I suck the rich, dense smoke between my lips. The inner burn sharpens my senses. It billows out of my mouth, wafting toward the heavens like one last smoke signal prayer before we walk into who the fuck knows .

“Woollsey,” Spence says, joining us a minute later, pressing his hot phone into my hand. “Don't be too long. Asshole's drunk again. We'll be lucky if he gives you the right digits .”

I keep it brief. Just ask for Adele and punch her number into my contacts, then dial. The woman changes her number every month to stay under the radar .

She picks up on the second ring. I tell her I know there's a deal going down, and Skittle must've left without the money her uncle wanted .

It's a massive risk. I don't know what's really involved. But it's worth a guess it's money, the same rocket fuel that makes the world spin. Double for the criminal underworld .

Very good guess, it turns out .

She gives me a time and place. It's close to the last ping from Skye's phone, a vacant warehouse by the docks, not far from the bridge where her mother drowned .

I hang up. We enjoy our smoke in silence, each of us passing it back and forth .

“Haven't done this shit since prison,” Cal says, staring at the glow on the shrinking tip, shaking his head .

It doesn't seem fair for him. He's already been through personal hell. Small miracle he came out the other side okay, no thanks to Spence and I having his back .

“Times change, bro, but one thing stays the same: we always come out in one piece. Fuck the storm coming. I'm celebrating early. We kept you from losing your stake in the company and your life. We'll do it for Cade, too, and be home early for drinks .”

I look at him sideways, wishing I had his devil confidence .

My gut is eating itself alive. It's pain, the kind that's only trouble .

Except this trouble makes me marvel. And that marvel is the glow in my heart, the crazy wildfire Skittle lit, the blaze I can't control unless she's home .

I need her in my arms, in my bed, sharing in my name .

She's become my life. Heart, soul, and every other flowery, fucked up thing a man like me swore he'd never say, before a twisted angel caught my heart and threw me down to earth .

Cal passes me the Cuban for one last puff. I drink it in, until the heat is almost at my fingertips, alive in this fire .

We talk details one last time. Cal and Spence say they'll do their part when the time comes. I give them a second to make the right calls, setting up the fail safe should prevent us from leaving in body bags, if it's really the standoff we're expecting .

“Let's go,” I say, flicking the cigar stub on the pavement, dashing it with my shoe .

My best friends follow to my car after we make one last stop downstairs, behind the hidden bookcase, where I keep my spare cash and precious metals for emergencies. Whatever crazy scenario I imagined when my old man insisted on having a vault in the home, I never thought it'd be this .

It takes us half an hour to stuff the cash into a gym bag and then get on the ferry for Bremerton. We stare into the cold sloshing waters without a word, pulsing dragon smoke out of our mouths into the night, making peace with the next few hours .

I have my friends .

I have my mission .

I have my incessant drum of a heart beating a vicious voice in my blood, its rhythm louder every pulse, a plea and a promise and an echo in every corner of my skin .

Bring her home .

I will. I tell myself the same thing over and over, until I start to believe it, infected with Spence's wicked confidence .

It lasts an hour. Just enough time to drive to the warehouse and meet the devil face to fucking face .

Then I'm surrounded by death in every direction, and I wonder how insane I had to be to think fate would ever let us off without blood .