Max didn’t answer his phone until the third ring, and with a rough, scratchy voice, he said, “Brett, do you have any idea what fucking time it is? I went to bed two hours ago. Give me a goddamn break.”

“Pull up those pictures you posted on social media last night.” Using James’s phone, I flipped through the stack he’d uploaded, so I could give him some direction. “And go to the last one.”

“I’m going back to bed.”

“Like hell you are.”

“What’s the point of this?”

“Just do it,” I growled.

“I’m hungover as fuck. Give me a fucking second.” I heard a click and his breathing. “What picture again? The one with—”

“You and Sophia.”

He sighed. “Don’t even tell me this phone call is about you being pissed that I went to her concert last night. Because, man, I’ve about reached my limit with all this Sophia bullshit.”

I ground my teeth together, trying to calm my nerves before I exploded. “Max, just look at the fucking picture, and tell me who the guy is in the upper-right corner.”

“The upper-right corner,” he repeated. “Fuck, I’ve got to put in my contacts; I can’t see shit. Hang on.”

If Max were in Miami right now, I would get in my goddamn car and drive to his house and skip all of this. But Sophia was playing a two-night show in Nashville, so Max wasn’t due back until tomorrow.

“Brett, what’s he saying?” James asked. Since she’d shown me the picture on her phone, she’d covered her naked body with a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, and she was sitting in the middle of the bed, fidgeting nonstop.

“He’s putting in his contacts; he can’t fucking see.”

She ran her hands through both sides of her hair. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

I shook my head, my jaw clenched so tightly that my head was pounding.

“All right, I’m back,” he said.

“Who’s the guy, Max?”

Several seconds passed before he said, “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before.”

“Find out, and call me back. And do me a fucking favor; hurry the fuck up, or I’ll be on the next flight to Nashville, and I’ll find out myself.”

“Brett, what the hell is going on?”

There was so much emotion on James’s face, it was stabbing me in the chest.

“That guy in the photo is Calvin Parker.”

The emotion doubled as soon as I said his name, and James tucked her knees against her chest and began to rock.

“Wait, you mean—”

“I mean, the same Calvin Parker who taped James and leaked their video to the entire world. Yeah, that motherfucker.”

“Shit, Brett.”

“Call me back,” I barked. “Quickly.”

“Give me an hour,” he said, and he hung up.

I dropped the phone on the bed and crawled over the mattress until James was in my arms. I held her against my chest and placed my mouth on the top of her head in one long, endless kiss. “He’s on it. We’ll have an answer soon. I promise.”

She was shaking. Her breathing was labored, and her tears were just starting to fall. No matter how hard she quivered, how much she cried, I didn’t let her go until my phone beeped with a message. From where I sat, I could see there was a picture on the screen.

I grabbed my cell, clicked the photo to enlarge it, and held it out in front of us.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. Her hand went over her mouth, her eyes moving from me to the photo and back.

It wasn’t the same picture Max had uploaded to social media last night. This shot was a close-up of the guy’s face. In many ways, it resembled the one the sketch artist had drawn at the police station, but I could tell where James’s memory had been fuzzy, and in her description, not all of his characteristics had come through.

“Brett…” Her eyes were glued to the screen, and the emotion that poured through them fucking choked me. “That’s him. That’s fucking him.” She placed her other hand on her chest and looked at me. “Who is he?”

“I have to call Max.”

I got up from the bed, needing to feel the floor under my feet, and I pressed the button for his cell.

This time, he answered halfway through the first ring. “Is that him?”

“Yes,” I growled.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Who is he? Fucking tell me.”

“His name isn’t Calvin Parker, but that should come as no surprise. His real name is Scott Watson. He lives in Gulfport, Mississippi, and runs security for a large casino in Biloxi. Turns out, Scott isn’t just good with surveillance feed; he also dabbles in hacking.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

I looked at James while I waited for his answer.

“Man, you were right,” he said.

Anger began to boil in my chest. “Who the fuck is he, Max?”

“He’s Sophia’s half brother.”

“Motherfucker…” I walked toward the bathroom, so James wouldn’t see my face, and I tried to calm myself down before my fist went through the nearest piece of drywall. “We’ll talk about this when I get home after our trip to LA. Right now, I want you to call our legal team and get the paperwork drawn up to terminate her contract. When the media finds out—and that’s going to be soon—I don’t want her name attached to The Agency.”

“Brett—”

“Max, she broke the fucking law. Not to mention, she tried to destroy my client, who also happens to be my girlfriend. Had you not taken that picture, I don’t know if we ever would have found out whom he was. So, don’t fucking start with me about you not wanting to be like the other agents in LA. That cunt is finished, and once the media hears this, they’re going to tear her to fucking shreds.”

“I was just going to ask if you wanted me to meet you in LA to present the evidence I found.”

With my back toward her, I leaned into the doorway of the bathroom. “Thanks, man. I’ll let you know once I get there if I need you to fly out. Right now, if you could text the pilots and tell them I need them on the tarmac in an hour, that would be a lot of help.”

“You got it.”

I disconnected the call and shoved my phone into the pocket of my sweats, my other hand raking through my morning hair. I didn’t want to turn around; I didn’t want to see the look on her face. But I fucking had to.

She was sitting at the end of the mattress, looking pale as hell.

“James…”

She wrapped her arms around her stomach, and her lips parted for several seconds before she said, “Sophia set this up, didn’t she?”

I nodded. “He’s her half brother.”

“Oh my God. I think I’m going to be sick.”

I moved over to the bed and knelt in front of her, resting my hands on her thighs. “Listen to me, before I call the detective, I want you to know everything Max told me, but I need to know you’re ready to hear it. The last thing I want right now is to make you hurt more. So, if you need a second, I understand.”

She put her hand on mine. The gesture wasn’t for affection; it felt more like she needed to hold on to something. “I want to hear it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

I waited a few seconds in case she changed her mind. When she said nothing, I started with, “The guy’s name is Scott Watson. He works in security for a casino in Mississippi, so he understands surveillance and camera systems. It’s how he was able to manipulate the feed at the Malibu hotel.”

She was getting paler, and I had no idea how to make her feel better because the news was only about to get worse.

“According to someone Max spoke to, Scott also does hacking on the side. I know that’s how he was able to leak the video without it being traced. I’m sure he uploaded it to the dark net on an offshore server, and someone was more than happy to send it to where it needed to go. He’d just edited his face and voice first.”

“She wanted to ruin me.” Her voice was just a little above a whisper. “She knew I’d be vulnerable at that party, and she had Calvin—or Scott or whatever the hell his name is hit on me in hopes that I’d sleep with him. And…” She swallowed and took a breath, holding her chest like that was helping her fill her lungs. “And I fell for it. I did everything she wanted me to. What the fuck is wrong with me, Brett? How could I be so stupid?”

I squeezed her thighs and shook them. “Jesus, James, this isn’t your fault. She manipulated you, and there was no way you could have known. And, if you hadn’t fallen then, she would have tried again. She was determined to make your life hell, and she wouldn’t have given up until she accomplished it.”

“What did I do to her?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, baby. But she’s not getting away with it. I’m going to call the detective, and then we’re getting on a plane and flying to LA. We’ll tell him everything we just found out, so he can do what he needs to in order to take them down.”

“It’s over.” She looked up at the ceiling, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Brett, it’s over.”

I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her so fucking close, trying to take some of the pain away.

“It’s over,” she whispered again, as though she were having a hard time believing it.

“I can’t wait for that cunt to get what’s coming to her.”

She released my shoulders and leaned back to look at my face. “Make the call.”

I got up from the floor and took my phone out of my pocket. I searched for the number I’d saved after James and I left the police station. “Detective, it’s Brett Young,” I said once he answered.

“Mr. Young.” I could tell I had woken him up. With the time difference, it was only a little past four in the morning in LA. “I’m hoping this call means you have some information.”

“The man in the video isn’t Calvin Parker. His real name is Scott Watson, and he’s Sophia Sully’s half brother.”

“You’re positive?”

“James identified him this morning in a picture on social media. He was in a shot with one of my agents at Sophia’s concert in Nashville. I had my agent look into it, and he got some information on Scott.”

“How quickly can you get here?”

“We’ll be boarding in less than an hour.”

“Text me when you land. I’ll meet you at the police station.”

I dropped my phone on the dresser and went back to the bed to lift her into my arms. She didn’t fight me at all; she just fell against my chest and clung her arms around me.

“We’re getting in the shower, and then we’re going to the airport.”