I’m responsible.

I sat alone in an office much like those I’d seen on Law and Order and those sort of shows on TV, not sure how long I’d been here. I wore no watch, and there wasn’t a clock in the room. They’d brought me here once I’d gotten the all clear at the hospital. I wasn’t hurt. No one had laid a finger on me.

Damon, though? I couldn’t get the image of him fighting out of my mind. I couldn’t stop seeing fists pounding flesh, heads colliding with a brick wall. Blood splattering. Staining Damon. And the man on the floor. The one who would have beaten Damon. Who would have raped me. Who had lain, unmoving, on the floor of the penthouse.

No. More likely he now lay in a drawer in the morgue.

Shit.

I’d fallen asleep once. Or more times. I didn’t know. I just knew that I’d startle awake, my head on the table, eyes feeling like they were plastered shut. There weren’t even windows in the room, so I could see the sun. Or the night sky. Or anything.

Standing, I went to the door for the thousandth time, but for the thousandth time, it was locked. They hadn’t let me in to see Damon at the hospital. When we’d arrived, they’d taken us to separate rooms, and we’d both had a police escort. Several.

They’d handcuffed Damon. Did that mean he was in trouble? He’d defended himself. He’d defended me.

I pulled at my hair, wearing another circle in the ragged wall-to-wall carpet, until, finally, a lock turned in the door and it opened. I stood and watched as Maxx and another man walked in holding a file that had to be at least two inches thick.

They closed the door behind them, and Maxx faced me, looked me over. I was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, a matching sweatshirt, and a pair of ancient sneakers, all of which were too big. I’d folded the pants up several times to keep them up, but it was either that or be naked, since I didn’t have any clothes on when I’d arrived at the hospital.

“Ms. Guardia,” he said, setting the file folder down and taking a seat. He sounded so different, looked so different. He was still wearing black form the raid, his muscles bulging beneath his shirt. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his face was serious and engaged. When I’d known him as Alexi’s bodyguard, he was always distant, as if he didn’t see or hear a thing. I’d always known the opposite was true, but this was…weird.

“It’s Lina,” I said, taking back my old name.

He sat back in his chair, surveying me, not betraying a single thought.

“I don’t understand,” I started. “You work for Alexi.”

He shook his head. “I’m a federal agent. Maxx Carson. I work undercover, and in this case, I needed to get close to Alexi Markov.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re not hurt. Physically, I mean.”

“But Damon’s hurt. No one will tell me what’s going on.”

“Damon Amado will be fine. He had a couple of bruised ribs and a fractured wrist. Not surprising, and quite lucky, considering.”

I exhaled, a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. But then I realized something.

“Am I in trouble?”

He studied me. Christ, it was unnerving.

“You know that Sergei Markov was injured in a riot at the prison yesterday?”

“Injured? Alexi said he’d died. Or he’d suggested it.” Although he’d never named Sergei.

“He’s recovering. His injuries are serious, but he’ll pull through.”

He watched me. Was it wrong that I felt relieved he hadn’t died?

“Maxx, am I in trouble?” I asked again.

“We have questions. For now, that’s all.”

I nodded. Did they know about the journal I’d kept rather than turning it in? Was that what he had questions about?

“What was your relationship with Sergei Markov?” he asked.

“He was my employer at Club Carmen until he was arrested and Alexi took over.”

Maxx raised an eyebrow. “That was all? He gave you an apartment to live in free of charge, bought you clothes—”

“How does this matter?” How does my stupidity matter?

He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “It matters. Especially given the fact you visited him a few days ago in prison. Especially given the fact that three of the people named in the file he gave you turned up dead in the last year, and another has gone missing.”

“Dead?”

“Dead.”

“You were in that file too.”

He gave me a half grin. Before I could say more, I heard commotion outside, and the door opened.

“I’m sorry, Maxx,” a woman said.

An older man in a three-piece suit walked inside and set his briefcase on the table between the agents and myself. He took out a card and handed it to Maxx, who took it. He then handed me one.

“Reginald T. Lewis. My client is no longer answering questions.”

“Client?” I asked.

Mr. Lewis pulled a chair over and sat down beside me. “Your brother-in-law, Raphael Amado, arranged for representation.”

“Raphael?” Shit. He knew? That had to mean Sofia knew too. I shook my head. “Representation? Am I under arrest?”

Maxx leaned forward to answer before Mr. Lewis could speak. “No. You’re not. We’re looking to answer some questions, Ms. Guardia. That’s all. I’ve been involved in this investigation for longer than you’ve known Alexi Markov, and unless you’re going to tell me something I don’t already know, you have no reason to have an attorney present.”

“I’ll ask you not to intimidate my client,” Mr. Lewis said.

Maxx gave him a look but sat back in his seat.

“I’m okay to answer questions,” I said to all of them. “I want to.” But first I had one for Mr. Lewis. “Raphael hired you?”

“Yes. A colleague is a mutual friend.”

“Is he…coming here?”

“No. You sister is unable to travel, and he won’t leave her at this stage of the pregnancy.”

“She’s okay, though?” How long had it been since I’d talked to Sofia?

“As far as I know, she’s fine.”

Maxx cleared his throat. We both returned our attention to him.

“You visited Sergei Markov in prison a few days ago.”

“Yes. I went to him because I was afraid of what Alexi would do, how far he’d push me. He thought I owed him money. But you know that part. You were there.” He’d stood by when Alexi had slapped me. He’d caught me and stood me back up to take more. “You let him hit me.”

He had no reply, but the look in his eyes told me he hadn’t forgotten.

“Sergei told me he’d help me. He said he’d wipe out my debt and get Alexi off my back if I told him if those people in that file were at Alexi’s party. But they’re dead or missing, so I don’t understand.”

“He was getting a message to Alexi. He knew Alexi would have you followed. I did the following. That’s why my photo wasn’t in the folder when Alexi received it.”

“He used me?”

Maxx looked at me like I was an idiot. And I guess to him, I was.

“He was sending his son a message. Having my photo among the informants they both knew to be informants would make Alexi suspicious.”

“He wanted to help Alexi?”

“He wanted to protect his interests.”

“But Alexi tried to have him killed?”

He didn’t answer me. “Sergei Markov also gave you a healthy payout,” he said instead.

“I told him I didn’t want anything. He just included the money in the file. I was going to give it back to the attorney.”

“That so?”

“It is. You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to, but it’s all still there. And it’s the truth.”

“The money doesn’t matter, Lina,” Mr. Lewis said. “You can’t help it if someone gives you a gift, even if it is from someone like Sergei Markov.”

“Where’s Alexi?” I asked.

“Safe and sound in a cell, where he belongs.”

“But why would he try to have his father killed? Especially after Sergei tried to help him.”

He replied to my question with another one of his own. “Mr. Markov mentioned something during your visit to the prison.” He paused, perhaps for effect. “He mentioned ties to your grandfather.”

How did he know what we’d talked about? It must have been the prison guards. Sergei was cocky. Had he gotten sloppy?

I glanced to the attorney, who put a hand on mine and patted it.

“You don’t have to answer any more questions.” He turned to Maxx. “I believe Ms. Guardia has been more than generous. I’m sure the night’s events have taken their toll on her and she’d like to get home. Rest.”

“Sergei and Alexi Markov are both trying to make a deal, Ms. Guardia. They’ll tell whatever lies they need to tell to save their own necks. Father against son, son against father. And they might just get away with it, if they can cast enough doubt. These are two very bad men we’re talking about.” He began to take out photographs from inside the file. I only looked at one before having to turn away, my breath catching.

“Oh come on. That’s not necessary,” Mr. Lewis said about the photos.

Maxx ignored him and spoke to me. “Your lawyer is right. You don’t have to answer any questions. I can subpoena you to testify under oath. It would just be a hell of a lot easier to do this now.” He leaned toward me. “You’re not in trouble. We’re interested in putting the criminals behind bars. Not you.”

“Lina—” Mr. Lewis started.

“No,” I said, meeting Maxx’s gaze. I had to come clean with all of it. I had to finish this. I’d withheld evidence. Had any of the people in the photos he kept laying out before me died because of that? Because I’d been trying to protect my grandfather and inadvertently protected the Markov’s? “My grandfather,” I started. “He’s an old man.” Tears burned my eyes. “I don’t want him to get into more trouble.”

“Tell me what you have exactly, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“We’ll make the deal before she shares any information. Immunity for my client, for her grandfather—”

“I have a journal. I kept it when I handed over the other two. The ones that showed where the money Grandfather stole had come from. Where it went.”

Mr. Lewis slumped in his seat.

“Go on,” Maxx said.

“The name Markov is mentioned several times. Sergei, or maybe both, worked together with my grandfather.”

“Where is it?”

“In Italy. At the house in Tuscany. I hid it in the chapel on the property.”

Lewis threw his arms up at this, and Maxx sat back in his seat. “Make the calls.”

Maxx’s colleague had already stood.

“Thank you,” Maxx said. “I need you to stick around in case I have more questions. Can I trust you’ll do that?”

I nodded. “Can I see Damon?”

“I’ll have someone drive you back to the hospital.”

“Not necessary. I’ll give my client a ride.”

“My apartment. Sergei said it was bugged. Was it?”

“No. Not by us, at least.”

So he’d lied to me. He’d used me and lied to me. “Can I go back and get some clothes?”

“Once we’ve collected the journal, I’ll escort you myself to retrieve what you need. Until then, the apartment is off-limits. My men are going through it now in case more evidence has been hidden there.”

“And Damon, he’s not in trouble, is he?”

“Self-defense is not a crime.”

I exhaled an audible breath. “I’d like to go.”

Maxx nodded. “That’s fine.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a cell phone. “This is for me to be able to get a hold of you. It’s either that or a holding cell, and I don’t want to do that to you.”

I took it, looked at it, and nodded.

We all stood.

“Ms. Guardia.”

I had reached the door when Maxx spoke. I turned around.

“I didn’t like that he raised a hand to you. If he’d done more, I wouldn’t have allowed it.”

I wasn’t sure what he expected. If he thought I’d tell him it was okay. Because it wasn’t. Instead of acknowledging his comment, I turned to leave with Mr. Lewis.

When we got outside, I could see it was morning from the position of the sun.

“How long have I been in there?”

“Thirty-six hours.”

“That’s more than a day.”

He only raised his eyebrows and gave a knowing nod, then drove me to the hospital, catching on quickly that I didn’t want any conversation when I sat silently in the passenger seat as he tried to make small talk. When we arrived at the hospital, I climbed out.

“Thank you, Mr. Lewis.”

He reached out to hand me a card. I hadn’t taken the one he’d given me at the FBI building. “It’s no trouble, but you’ll want to be careful with the FBI. They suspect everyone is a criminal, no matter how open or flexible they may try to make themselves appear. Your brother-in-law is paying a hefty sum to retain me, so I’d like to be sure you’ll contact me if they approach you directly.”

“I don’t have anything to hide, Mr. Lewis. I just laid out all my cards.”

“It’s how they’ll twist those cards that worries me.”

I wanted to get inside. I didn’t want to stand here having this conversation. “I’ll call you,” I promised, taking the card.

Once inside, I went up to the fifth floor and Damon’s room. At least I thought it was his room, but when I pushed the door open, an old man slept in the bed Damon had been in. Panicked, I backed out and double-checked the room number before turning and looking both ways down the hall for the nurse’s station. I practically ran to it.

“Excuse me. The man in room 523, Damon Amado, where is he?”

The nurse held up her finger to signal she’d be with me in a moment and finished her phone call, which sounded more like a private conversation than work.

“Excuse me!” I tried again.

Giving me an irritated look, she hung up the phone and cocked her head to the side, not bothering to smile. “How can I help you?”

“Damon Amado. He was in room 523 yesterday. Where is he?”

She clicked through several screens on her computer before answering. “He was discharged a few hours ago.”

“Discharged?” Thank goodness. “Do you know where he went?”

She leaned back in her seat. “It may surprise you to learn this, but we’re not babysitters here, Miss.”

I just shook my head at her reply and headed to the elevators, taking one down and heading out, realizing as I got to the street that I didn’t have my purse or wallet, and no part of me wanted to call Mr. Lewis for a ride. It would be an hour’s walk to the church. Wrapping my arms around myself, grateful it wasn’t snowing or raining as this jogging outfit barely kept the cold out, I headed away from the hospital and toward the church.