Lost in deep slumber, Anthony awoke with a start. He'd fallen asleep on the couch in his home office. He jumped up and headed for his bedroom. She was still sleeping. He breathed a sigh of relief and headed for the guest bathroom.

A few minutes later he stood in front of the coffee pot mentally kicking himself for letting his guard down. She could've retrieved a knife from the kitchen and stabbed him in his sleep. She could've found her car keys, which he'd left on his desk, and driven off before he realized it. He'd never been so careless before.

He took his coffee into the office and was about to pick up his phone to call X when it rang. "Yeah?” he answered, then took a sip from his mug.

"It's me," X told him. "I just got a call you need to know about." X's voice got louder with each word as he tried to talk above some background noise.

"What is that sound?" Anthony asked, interrupting him.

"It's your sister. She's in the shower and obviously doesn't know how thin the walls are," X sighed.

Before Anthony could comment, X added, "She's either desecrating The Beach Boys' God Only Knows, or," he paused and exhaled, "or, she's skinning a cat. My money is on the latter."

X could hear the amusement in Anthony's voice when he replied, "My sister has the most amazing qualities of any woman I've ever known. Unfortunately, singing isn't one of them. I'm surprised she's singing with you in the house. She knows she's awful and would never do it in front of someone."

"Yeah, I told her I was running out for a few minutes, but I forgot my wallet and came back in. It's the real reason for my call, Bear. The phone started ringing before I left again. It was Blue. There might be a lead on Kit's rapist.”

Anthony felt his body go rigid when he thought about what had happened to Grizz's sweet and innocent wife. Two weeks ago, someone had brutally raped and beaten her in her own bed, leaving her for dead. Grizz had been on an overnight trip and had left Kit with Moe, one of the regulars who lived at their motel. Moe had been asleep in her room with Grizz's two Rottweilers when the attack occurred. Rottweilers that would've protected Kit in Grizz's absence, but couldn't from behind Moe's locked door.

"Does Grizz know who did it?" Anthony asked. He hefted his hip up on the end of the desk and stared out the window.

X told him no, but the lead was promising. He went on to explain that there was a drug- dealing pimp from Miami who raped and harshly beat his girls. He went missing right after Kit's attack, thus arousing suspicion. After telling Anthony the man's name, X explained that someone said he was last seen north of Naples in Fort Myers.

"Put the word out in our club. I wanna know if anybody knows anything. Anything at all. No matter how insignificant. Even if it's a rumor, I want to know about it. And if they find the guy, no one touches him. Grizz needs to be the only one who deals with him. If we find him, make sure the crew knows we'll expect Grizz to pay a price for him."

"I'm on it," X replied. "Your sister got a noon flight. I'll drop her at the airport, head to the camp to talk to the crew, see if anything has come to light about Van, and I'll put the word out for the guy Grizz is tracking. Then I'll come to your place unless you need me somewhere else."

"No. Here is good. I'll see you later," Anthony said as he slowly laid the phone down. God help the man who raped and beat Grizz's woman, he thought. If he has an ounce of sense, he's already left the country.

"Who's Grizz?"

He looked over and realized Christy was standing in the doorway. Before he could answer her, she asked another question.

"What kind of club do you belong to?"

Ignoring both questions, he stood and walked toward her. "You're feeling better?"

She nodded and said, "I'm a little hungry. I'm thinking that's a good thing."

"Come," he said as he squeezed past her through the doorway.

She followed him to the kitchen.

Five minutes later he sat at his desk with the chair swiveled so he could see out the door and straight into the kitchen. He watched as she made herself a piece of toast and sat at the table with her back to him. He used the time to make some phone calls and see if any of his contacts could help establish Van and Vivian's exact whereabouts and when they were expected back.

Yesterday morning, Denny had indicated that Van told him two days earlier they would be gone for a few days. In Anthony's mind that meant they would be home today or tomorrow. But not one person he spoke with knew anything.

He barely paid attention to Christy's movements after she finished her toast and cleaned up after herself. He didn't need to worry about her using the phone because he was using the only available landline in the house. Her car keys were sitting right in front of him.

A little while later she was back, this time wearing her clothes that she must've found in his dryer. Leaning against the doorway, she cleared her throat.

When he looked up, she said, "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Christy." She held her hand out and walked toward him. “And you're not just the boss of the company that cuts the Chapmans’ lawn. Am I right?" She knew this was bigger than an outstanding lawn bill.

He stood and ignored her outstretched hand. "Yeah," was his only reply.

"Do you have a name?" she asked.

"Anthony Bear. Your stepfather owes me a lot of money. Where is he?"

She took two steps back from him. Being so close caused her to have to tilt her head to look into his eyes, and her neck was sore. Blinking twice, she answered, "I don't have a clue where he is. Are you telling me Van and Vivian aren't home yet?"

Anthony had a guy watching the house. "No. They're not home." She seemed excited by his response.

Spotting her keys, she reached for them and said, "I need to get back to the house. I need to get in there while they're not home."

"Why?" he asked, swiping the keys before she could.

"I didn't ask you why Van owed you money, did I?" She pursed her lips and snapped, "It's none of your beeswax why!"

"None of my beeswax?" he asked. Without giving her time to respond, he told her plainly, "When they get home I'm going to pay Van a visit. Without you."

She rolled her eyes. "Enough with the drama. Okay? I feel like I'm in a bad Mafia movie or something. Can't you handle Van's debt like a normal person?"

She must have been feeling a lot better, Anthony thought. The attitude was back as he knew it would be.

Anthony frowned. "How would a normal person handle it?" he asked.

"Hire an attorney and take him to court," she scoffed. "I think the ransom thing is a tad overboard, don't you?" she questioned, hoping he couldn't detect her false attempt at bravery. Her stomach was in knots, and it wasn't because she'd been sick.

"Not when you're in my business," he countered, narrowing his eyes.

She broke from his gaze, ignoring the trickle of fear that made its way down her spine. "So, Van owes you money. What are you? A loan shark or something?" She tried to act nonchalant, like she talked to loan sharks every day.

"I guess you could say that," he replied.

Her patience was waning, and it gave her a renewed sense of courage. She was losing precious time. She was on a quest and was certain that what she was looking for was hidden in her childhood home. There had to be proof of what she suspected, and if she was going to bring Van down, she had to find it. She didn't have time to be a kidnapping victim. She would have to bargain with the Neanderthal.

"Look. We both have a bone to pick with Van. How about you let me go, and I go about my business, but I'll make a deal with you. I'll stay off the radar. You can tell Van you have me. He'll never know it's not true. I have no relationship with him whatsoever. I even told you before that I think you'll be disappointed. Van won't pay to get me back. I'm nothing but a thorn in his side."

Anthony half believed her, yet something stopped him from agreeing to her terms.

"No," was all he said.

"Fine!" she said through gritted teeth. "Take me to my apartment and let me get my checkbook. I'll pay you whatever Van owes you and this will be over and done with."

She was a wealthy heiress, so he had no doubt she was telling him the truth. It would be the simplest solution, but again, something kept him from accepting the proposition.

"No."

"Why not?" she asked, her tone sounding irate. Her face was turning red, and her hands were clenched at her sides.

"None of your beeswax," he mocked.

Ignoring his sarcasm, she said, "Okay, but if I give you the money, you can leave me alone and deal with him however you want. It doesn't need to involve me. It's a win-win for both of us. You can see that, right?" Her voice sounded hopeful.

It was a reasonable and easy solution, but he couldn't let himself agree to it. There was something about her buying her freedom that irked him. She had so much money she didn't even ask about Van's debt. She was spoiled and privileged and probably bought her way out of any situation that she found uncomfortable or couldn't control. Not this one, he told himself.

"No."

Taking a deep breath, she realized she was getting nowhere. Stubborn jerk, she thought to herself. How did I even let myself think for one minute that he could be reasonable?

He picked up her pager and handed it to her. "You said nobody would miss you, but you had two pages."

She looked at it and said, "My brother and Bobbi Bowen's dealership."

"You mentioned your brother at the house," Anthony said, nodding. "Does he live in Naples?"

"Don't get any more misguided fancy kidnapping ideas in your head," she snorted. "He was disowned years ago. And like I told you before, Van wouldn't pay to get me back, and he'd probably pay you to take and keep Richard."

Anthony didn't say anything, and she continued, "The Corvette is a loaner. My car is in the shop. I guess the call from Bobbi Bowen's was to let me know it's ready. They'll expect me to pick it up soon." She brushed a hand through her hair. "And my brother and his girlfriend have a new baby. I'm due for a visit. It would seem odd if I didn't."

He purposely didn't tell her about the crying woman who'd answered the phone. It must've been Richard’s girlfriend and the fact that she'd been sobbing told Anthony it was probably important.

He picked up the phone and handed it to her. "Call Bobbi Bowen's and tell them your friend Alexander will be dropping off the Corvette and picking up your car."

This guy obviously didn't negotiate. No matter how misguided she felt he was, she knew it was easier to attract flies with honey rather than vinegar. She would play along. Other than his dark and commanding demeanor, she wasn't feeling a specific threat. Unless she allowed herself to stare into his eyes for too long. There was something chilling about eyes that showed no emotion. She dialed the number and told Vicky to expect her friend later that day.

As far as her brother was concerned, Anthony was slightly curious. Two wealthy children. One disowned, and the other obviously despised her parents. He felt like he had front row tickets to a live soap opera. And a bad one at that. He wanted to meet Richard.

The sound of his truck interrupted his thoughts and seconds later Alexander came through the front door without knocking. Waiving the courtesy of a proper introduction, Anthony told Christy to get her shoes on. He gave X a brief explanation as to where he was going, saving details for a later time.

Christy met them in the foyer.

"X will be picking up your car. What kind is it?" he asked her.

"It's a white convertible—"

"Of course it is," Anthony said, cutting her off.

After exchanging car keys with X, he steered Christy out the front door toward his truck.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To meet your disinherited brother," he told her.

"To meet my brother?" she asked, incredulously. "How in the world am I going to explain who you are?"

"Tell him I'm your boyfriend," he said as he opened the truck door for her. He gave her a smirk, knowing that she would rather die from shame than let someone think they were a couple. Even her worthless brother.

"I don't date, let alone have a boyfriend," she answered, her tone sounding worried.

Good, his suggestion had hit a nerve. He couldn't fathom why he enjoyed taunting her so much.

"You and me?" she asked, shaking her head as she climbed into the truck. "He'll never believe it."

"Then it'll be your job to make him believe it," he said, slamming her door shut. He walked around to the driver's side and jumped in. She was still listing reasons why she wouldn't be able to convince Richard they were in a relationship, her voice rising with each point.

"Shut up, or I'll tell him we're married," Anthony snapped. He didn't want to admit it, but what he considered amusing less than ten seconds ago, was now digging under his skin. And he didn't like how it was making him feel.