So far, I’ve called eleven hospitals with no luck. It seems like L.A. has as many hospitals as Vegas has chapels. For a moment, I wonder if I should start calling jails, but I don’t know Cee’s last name. All I have to go on is what I remember from the picture Colt showed me. My description would be sketchy at best. I glance around Colt’s apartment. He doesn’t have any pictures of the kid either. Just life-size posters of himself in various football poses. Jeez, does he ever get tired of looking at himself?

At a loss for what to do next, I venture into what I assume is the media room. Overstuffed, sand-colored couches face a huge wall flanked by four enormous flat screen TVs stacked two on top of each other. Seriously, does he watch all four at the same time? This is overindulgence, plain and simple. The slate floor boasts myriad muted colors. The same stone is used for the façade on the wet bar. Chrome bar stools meticulously line up at the granite countertop. I grunt. Talk about a man cave. This place probably came with a lifetime supply of testosterone and draft beer!

I plop down on one of the sofas, sinking into its plush micro suede fabric. Something hard jabs me in the butt. I pull a plastic headband from the cushions.

Pink.

With black skulls.

Definitely something a teen would wear. So Cee had been here after all. But where is she now? What kind of girl is she?

One who goes around robbing grown men at gunpoint and wearing pink headbands with skulls.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Maybe it’s not too late to go back to Reno. Maybe I’ll slip out on Colt like he’d slipped out on me years ago. No. No matter how much he deserves it, I’d made a deal with him. I’m not the type to go back on my word.

I get up and stroll down the hall to Colt’s bedroom. Everything in the room is black. Black furniture. Black silk sheets. Black rug. The same slate from the media room covers the floor in here.

I lay across his king-sized bed and bury my face in one of the pillows. I can smell his scent. After all these years, he still wears the same aftershave. I force back a sob that suddenly lodges in my throat.

Has he been here with other women? Has he seduced them with sinful words and tender kisses? Has he made love to them the way he had to me? Has he held them the way he’d held me? Has he plunged deep inside them the way he’d done with me? Brought them to orgasm until their toes curled the way he’d done with me? Left them begging for more and calling his name?

A slow, sensual burn starts in the pit of my abdomen. I don’t want to think about him touching me. Kissing me. Fondling my most intimate places. Talking dirty to me. I’m here for business. I can’t afford to be distracted. And I damn sure can’t afford to have this constant throbbing between my legs.

The lyrical chiming of my cell phone interrupts my erotic musings. I jump up and rush back into the living room where I’d left the device.

I groan when I see the caller I.D.

Denyse.

I’d better get this over with.

“Hello.”

“Hey, sis. Where are you?”

I take a seat on Colt’s plush leather sofa. “Um, I did something kind of crazy last night.”

“Something crazy? Like what? Don’t tell me, you slept with Colt.”

“Of course, not!”

“Did you spend the night with him? You were gone when I woke up this morning.”

I’d left quietly, taking only one bag. “Oh, yeah. About that. I’m going to need you to send some of my stuff.”

“Send it where?”

“To L.A.”

“What are you doing in Los Angeles?”

“I’m staying with him for a while.”

Denyse’s breath catches on the other end of the line. “I order you to come back, now, Shayla Anjanette Carter. You cannot date that son-of-a-bitch. He broke your heart.”

She’d thrown down the gauntlet. Full name used and duly acknowledged.

“I’m not dating Colt.”

“Thank the Lord.”

“I married him—again. Last night at a Reno chapel.”

The silence that permeates the line makes me think my sister might have hung up. When I hear her next words, I almost wish she had. “Shayla, have you lost your damn mind?”

I stretch out on the sofa, crossing one ankle over the other. “No. It’s still here underneath these unruly curls.”

I won’t let Denyse make me second-guess my decision. Besides, the deed is done. Colt and I are married now. I gaze at the bling on my finger. The solitaire sparkles in the light from a nearby window. Dazzling prisms of color dance in the brilliant facets. The smooth platinum shank hugs my finger. Not only is this ring stunning, it’s a perfect fit. Is that a sign?

“Sis, I know you’re a grown woman, but you are making the biggest mistake of your life. Listen to me, please.”

“This situation is only temporary.”

“Girl, you can kid yourself, but you can’t kid me. Haven’t I always taught you not to look backward? Your eyes are in the front of your head for a reason—so you can look forward, not back. Marrying Colt again is not the answer.”

I change positions, reclining on one elbow and curling into a fetal position. I’m glad this conversation is via phone and I don’t have to see the disappointment on Denyse’s face. For years, I’d tried to please my parents, my sister, and my husband. Finally, I want to do something to please myself.

“I know what I’m doing,” I insist.

“You don’t have to do this for him.”

“I’m doing this for me. Not Colt. I have bills to pay.”

“Stay here with me, Shayla. I can take care of your rent.”

“For how long? And why should you struggle when I have a benefactor who can take up the slack?” I drum my fingers on my knee, impatient to end the conversation.

“Is that what Colt is to you? A benefactor? Someone to manipulate?”

“Yesterday, you said he was using me. Now, you’re the president of his fan club?”

“I just want you to realize that you’re doing the same thing to him that he’s doing to you. What kind of marriage is this, based on deceit and hidden agendas?”

“Our agendas are not hidden. We’re both very open about what we want. I told him what I want. He told me what he wants. It’s a done deal.”

“The one thing you both want is each other, and you two fools can’t even admit it. Have you told him that you haven’t loved anyone else but him?”

“No!” I bolt upright, furiously shaking my head. Admitting that to Colt would give him way too much power over me. “Love has nothing to do with this. It’s business, plain and simple. I don’t intend to fall for him a second time. I’m in full control.”

The doorbell rings, cutting off what is sure to be a smartass retort from Denyse. “I gotta go. That’s probably Cee.”

“Shayla? Promise me you’ll be careful. Think with your head, not your heart.”

“Colt took what was left of my heart, so that’ll be no problem.”

I hang up and then I dart to the door and jerk it open, expecting to find a dark-haired teenager wearing a skull T-shirt on the other side. Instead, it’s a middle-aged guy with a stubbly beard and a paunch. His familiar green eyes rake over me in confusion, then widen in astonishment.

I’d always wondered what I’d say if I ever came face-to-face with one of Colt’s brothers again. The day has finally arrived.

“Hello Ruger. I wish I could say it’s nice to see you, but I’d be lying.”

He hovers in Colt’s doorway. The man hasn’t changed much in nearly a decade since I’d last seen him. Same bushy beard. Same cynical expression. The beer gut is new. Living high on the hog would do that to you.

With a caramel complexion and peridot eyes, he could be considered handsome. But because of his foul behavior, I can’t even think of him in that vein. Feelings of bitterness and resentment I’d long thought dead come to life like decaying zombies, clawing at my flesh. My jaw clenches. Seeing him brings back painful memories. This man is the reason Colt left me. Our marriage never stood a chance with him and Wesson plotting its demise.

I hold my emotions in tow, refusing to let him see how he still affects me after all these years. He’d never liked me. He’d made his feelings known from the day I met him. Now, my best revenge is that he knows his attempts have been in vain. He couldn’t get rid of me that easy.

Who’s got the last laugh now, baby?

His caterpillar brows furrow. “Shayla? What are you doing here?”

I take my time answering. I’ve waited years for this moment. I plan to drag it out like molasses on a cold day. A good journalist learns to show, not tell. So, that’s what I do. I hold up my left hand and wave my fingers in my best Jazz Hands impersonation.

Ruger’s bearded jaw drops as he zeroes in on the monolithic diamond. “What the—?”

“Colt and I are back together. He didn’t tell you?” I gloat, knowing full well Ruger doesn’t know. We’d barely had time to tell anyone, besides those reporters in the lobby. “We got married—again.”

“No, he didn’t tell me.”

“Interesting. Aren’t you his manager?”

His gaze narrows. “He fired me a few weeks ago.”

“Can’t say I blame him.” I shrug, hoping my calm demeanor doesn’t betray the tempest inside me. I’d seen the story on some gossip show a few weeks ago.

Colt Emerson fires brother and long-time manager.

I’d wondered back then what had gone wrong in paradise. My heart performs a back handspring of glee knowing Ruger feels the sting of rejection and breakup, just like I did.

His glance cuts to my ring again. “Colt’s been doing a lot of stupid things lately.”

The muscles of my stomach convulse with nervousness, but only for a moment before I get back on the balance beam of life. “It must be tiring, constantly butting your nose in Colt’s business.”

“He can’t think when you’re around.”

“Why does he need to think? He’s got you and Wesson for that.”

“I told you he fired me. He doesn’t listen to me anymore. And now I know why. You told him to fire me, didn’t you?”

“You give me too much credit, brother-in-law. Your sorry ass managerial skills got you fired.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want you in his life. You’re bad news, girl.”

I clasp my hands behind my back, resisting the urge to slap him. “Well, you and the rest of the family had better get used to me ’cause I’m here to stay.”

His scowl deepens. “After the way he treated you, I never expected you to take him back.”

My pulse races. I’d expected a battle, but nothing along these lines. Nine years ago, I’d graciously backed down. But I’ll be damned if I let any of Colt’s family push me around now. Time for my dismount. I’ve had enough of this routine.

“I’m not the Shayla of years ago, Ruger. Trust me, you don’t want to screw with me. You have neither the intelligence nor the power to make a difference in my life anymore. Your—”

My cell phone chimes, cutting off the scathing tongue-lashing I’m about to deliver.

When I hear Colt’s voice on the other end of the line, I’m relieved, but when I find out where he’s calling from, waves of panic crash over me. For a second I forget I’m mad at Ruger.

Our gazes collide when I disconnect the call. “That was Colt,” I say. “He’s been arrested!”