“Why so gloomy, girlfriend?” Lucy plants an extra-large cinnamon latte on my desk and parks her ass beside it, giving me the Look.

The one that says she can see right through me.

She probably can, too. Not that I’m good at hiding my feelings. I told Rook that. He said he liked that about me, that he’s the same, that…

Oh God. Again Rook. He’s stuck on my mind. My memories of him—kissing, touching, coming apart with pleasure, then with worry—won’t leave me alone, no matter how hard I forget and get him out of my head.

“I’m not gloomy,” I mutter and shuffle the papers on my desk, pretending to be busy. “Need my caffeine shot, that’s all. I’ll be fine as soon as I drink some of that coffee.”

There’s no fooling Lucy, though. “You say that every day, girl. Why are you here? I thought we agreed you’d take some time off, rest and decide what to do with your life.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to quit the FBI.”

“Of course I don’t want you to quit. Mia.” She catches my hand, stopping my shuffling. Her eyes flash, nailing me. “Hey. Stop. Listen to me. I only want you to be well. To be happy. I thought work would be good for you, but I’m not sure anymore. Will you please talk to me?”

“About what?” I yank my hand free. The redness lingering on my wrists catches my eye, distracts me. Throws me back into that warehouse, where Rook is getting kicked and beaten over and over, where he’s lying still, and I’m not sure he’s breathing, where I failed to protect him.

“What happened with Rook?”

I blink. “What do you mean? Did something happen? He was okay last time I asked, he’s—”

“I mean, why aren’t you with him?”

The images from the warehouse slowly fade. I’m so tired. “Because I have work to do.”

“God, Mia, you’re a mess. I ask you how he is and you assume he’s dead, don’t you? I see the panic in your eyes. Why are you hiding here? Did you two have a fight?”

“No, we didn’t.”

And that’s the truth. He just… didn’t speak to me, after that first night when he woke up, after the surgery. He didn’t seem to see me.

And then he told the doctors he didn’t want to see anyone. Apparently that included me.

Yeah, I’m hiding. Hiding from myself, from the pain in my heart.

I’d never felt so alive as when I was with him. Every second by his side, in pleasure or in danger, is crystal clear in my memory. It meant more to me than days spent hunting down criminals, or days spent at this desk, filling out forms and making sure justice is served.

Screw justice. I miss Rook.

Dammit.

But apparently he doesn’t miss me. At all. And it’s breaking me to pieces.

* * *

The press is buzzing with the death of Ian Cronin and the Carters, and the dismantling of the Organization. People in high places are falling like a house of cards as their names come up in the documents the police uncovered in the safety deposit boxes Cronin kept at the bank and in several of his mansions across the country. Bossman is happy with all the back-patting he’s getting over this success, and Lucy is looking at a promotion.

As I am, too, but I don’t care. I’m not even sure why I’m here, except to keep busy and not think about Rook and all that happened.

Lucy says I should see an agency psychologist.

The one I need to see is Rook, but there you go. Life doesn’t care what you really want or need, does it? Mom is with a new guy that she wants me to meet, and Lucy is seeing a new girl she met at a nightclub last week, and I’ve begged the boss to assign me to a new case, but he says it’s too soon.

Too soon to move on. From this case, from this guy, from all that took place.

Even if it’s all I’m asking for.

Since I can’t stay at my desk all day and all night, too, I find myself driving around the city. I pass in front of the Red Thorn, and stop across from the closed door, remembering that evening when I pretended to be Alfred O’Connor’s date—and ended up with Rook on a desk, his mouth on mine, his hands everywhere. I remember how he made me come, all that pleasure, and that dark gaze on me, always making sure I was okay, that it was what I wanted.

It was. It was all I wanted.

God. What am I doing?

I drive off, pass in front of the Cronin Hotel, and sweat rolls down my back. So many memories here, and I just can’t take it anymore.

Maybe it is time I quit, after all. Quit and move to another city, far away from the memories and the one man who gripped my heart and mind like no other.

I’ll tell Bossman about my decision.

Tomorrow.

* * *

My phone rings, and I answer it out of habit. “Mia.” It’s Jeff Becker from downstairs. “Someone here to see you.”

“I’m busy.” I’m shoving my papers into a plastic bag. Haven’t been able to give the boss my resignation yet, but I want to be ready to leave before he manages to convince me to stay—and before Lucy comes in and sees me and has a fit.

“You’ll want to see this one, trust me. And he specifically asked for you.”

“Jeff, I don’t have time—”

“He’s on his way up. Sorry, Mia, that’s not a guy you can avoid.”

What the hell?

I roll my eyes and slam the receiver down—then turn around in my chair just as the elevator doors open and a familiar man steps out, blue eyes zeroing in on me.

Storm. Handsome in his tailored navy suit, a charmer, and Rook’s friend.

“Hawk sent you, huh?”

His brows go up. “How did you know?”

“Call it a hunch. I bet he thought you’d have a better chance of convincing me to do whatever it is you want to ask.”

“And what’s your hunch about what I’m about to ask you?”

He rocks back on his heels, waiting for me to answer, and there’s a breathy sigh going through the room. Every woman’s—and man’s probably—eye is trained on this hot specimen of maleness.

He doesn’t hold a candle to Rook, though.

And here we go again…

“You want me to tell you about that night at the warehouse,” I say, sinking back down in my chair. “Details about what happened to Rook. Or maybe how I found him after Robert O’Connor was done with him and what happened then—”

“That’s not what I’m here for.”

I eye him as he perches on my desk, just like Lucy likes to do. I’m almost afraid to ask. But after everything, this is just a shadow of a fear. “What then?”

“You need to talk to Rook.”

I open my mouth, and then close it. I frown at Storm.

“You need to go see him,” he says. “He’s at home now. He fired most of his staff. Even his housekeeper, who was like a mother to him. Alma.”

I worry at the hem of my sweater. “Cronin paid her to keep an eye on him. Of course he sent her away.”

“She was like a mother to him, Mia.” Storm leans closer. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

What is he trying to tell me? “She really cared for him?”

“I’m sure she did. Sometimes you are given a job, and then you fall in love with that job. Tell me it’s not like that.”

I never fell in love with a job. But when Rook entered the picture… I did. Fall in love. I can see in my mind’s eye Alma, a young woman, sent to keep an eye on a small child. An intelligent, funny, cute kid like Rook and finding that her perspective had changed. That he wasn’t a job anymore, but like a son to her.

Just like I kept an eye on Rook and then just couldn’t look away anymore.

“I see,” I say, keeping my voice even, neutral.

“He’s holding everyone who cares for him, everyone he cares about, at a distance. Even us.” He leans back, lifts his chin. “Even you.”

I let this sink in. My mind resists. “If he cares for me, why would he keep me at a distance? I tried.” I have to stop and swallow hard. “I tried to see him, at that private clinic he was in. He told the nurses and doctors not to let me in. I found his address, rang his bell. Nobody answered. I can’t…”

I can’t do this.

“It’s not just you. He did that to all of us. I think he just told the staff he didn’t want to see anyone, and Rook’s word is law, anywhere. You see, that is the problem.”

I wipe at my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“He says something, and everyone scrambles to obey. Nobody really cares. Nobody really thinks—is this what he really needs?”

Storm is looking at me earnestly. I think about what he said. The curse of power, that sort of thing. The staff is paid to obey his every wish. He said not to let anyone in. So they won’t.

No matter what.

“You don’t think he meant it? To keep us all away?”

“Oh, he meant it. But he thinks he’s protecting us. He thinks he’s giving us a way out. That we don’t want to really be around a guy like him, so he’s making it easier on us.”

“That’s crazy.”

A wide grin breaks over Storm’s handsome face, and it’s like a frigging sunrise. If I wasn’t so in love with Rook, I’d be having a major crush right now. “I know, right? Rook is the best guy I know.”

“He always seemed so confident,” I whisper. “I can’t believe he’d think this way.”

“Please go see him,” Storm says, his grin gradually fading, “before I call the police to break down his door.”

“Is that why you’re here?” I mutter.

He winks at me. “Exactly.”

“I’m a desk jockey. My undercover days are over.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. A headache is pounding inside my head. “What are you so worried about?”

“I want to make sure he’s still alive.”

Panic surges through my body. It’s like an electric bolt. I glance up. “You think—?”

“I don’t know what to think, Mia.”

“But if he won’t let me in…?”

“He’s holed up in his house. You have a badge, right? Flash it if his employees refuse to let you in. As for him… I’m sure he wants you there, Mia. He just doesn’t know what he needs right now. He thinks he’s trying to protect us.”

“From what?”

“From himself. He has this trauma from his childhood, and then later when he was a teenager… ask him to tell you about Robert O’Connor and what that bastard did to him. Anyway, point is… he’s always thought he’s the bad guy. The bad influence. And now he found out he’s Cronin’s son, and it’s like a confirmation of everything he’s ever feared. Coming on top of all that went down, I think it broke him. I’m afraid for him, Mia, like I’ve never been afraid for anyone before.”

Hawk had said something like that, right? About depression and dark moods. About that childhood trauma that’s still haunting Rook—and what happened with Robert when Rook was a teenager?

I get up, my heart pounding in my ears. “Is he at the townhouse?” At Storm’s nod, I grab my purse and jacket. “Then I’m going to find him and bring him back.”

To me. To us.

To life.

* * *

Half an hour later, I drive by Rook’s mansion, slowly coming to a stop outside the gate. The windows are dark, one lonely light faintly shining downstairs. If not for that, I’d think the house is deserted.

Sitting in my car, the engine idling, I feel my resolve weakening. What if Storm is wrong? What if Rook really doesn’t want me here? What if I let Storm convince me because he said the things I wanted to hear?

That Rook cares about me. That he’s confused, and hurting, but not as indifferent as he appears to be.

And even if he is, who says I’m the one who can save him from himself, that I’m the one he needs?

He said he was in love with me.

Did he mean it?

I lower my window and ring the bell. Nothing happens, so I press the button again and again, until I see someone coming down the driveway toward the gate. It’s a tall, lanky guy in a black suit. As he approaches I see his graying hair and moustache. He looks like an old-time butler, and I want to laugh, but then I remember why I’m here and my laughter dies.

“Mr. Carter isn’t receiving visitors,” the man calls out as he reaches the gate. He gives me a long, steady look. “Please drive away. You’re blocking the gate.”

“Why, are you waiting for someone? I thought Mr. Carter isn’t accepting visitors—did I misunderstand?”

“Delivery,” he says placidly. “Please move your car, or I shall have to call the police.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” I say and pull out my badge. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but if Storm is really worried about Rook’s life… “FBI. Open this gate right now.”

He doesn’t do it immediately, which earns him my respect. He approaches the gate and squints at my badge, glancing at my face from time to time.

Then he nods and walks to one of the gate posts where he inputs a code in a keypad, and the gate opens inward.

“I will inform Mr. Carter that you are here,” he murmurs and walks away, toward the house, much faster than he had when coming to talk to me.

Great intro to this meeting. I wonder if Rook will think I came here to arrest him for his father’s crimes.

Awesome.

* * *

The doorway is huge, the heavy wooden doors wide open. I step inside the house and look up, at the vaulted ceiling and the skylight.

Whoa.

The floor is shiny veined marble, and there are red leather sofas on either side, and this is just the entrance.

The lanky butler is there, waiting for me. “This way, please.” He opens another door and ushers me inside what looks like an enormous library, the walls lined with endless shelves filled with books. “Whom shall I announce?”

“No need,” I mutter, brushing past him. “I can announce myself.”

There’s furniture—more leather couches, low coffee tables, colorful rugs and paintings on the walls. Portraits—of the Carters? Or famous authors?

I walk further into the enormous room, with its scent of leather and old paper. There’s an ashtray with a half-smoked cigar in it. A jacket is carelessly thrown over a padded chair.

“Rook?” I turn in a circle. The big room is quiet.

At first, I don’t see anyone. I walk past shelves and more shelves, past more sofas and tables, and suddenly there he is, seated in a deep armchair, an empty glass in his hand.

He’s dressed in loose black pants and a white shirt, the buttons undone, leaving most of his muscular chest bare, with the edges of his dark ink showing, the roses and the thorns. The stitches are a stark black against his pale skin of his abdomen.

He stares at me as if he doesn’t know who I am.

And I drink him in. I knew I’d missed him, just not how much. I also hadn’t realized how worried I was until I saw him and the tight knot inside my chest that wouldn’t let me breathe begins to ease.

“Mia?” he whispers. “What are you doing here?”

I walk over to him and kneel between his knees. “I came to see you.”

He frowns down at me, those beautiful dark eyes confused. “I told Jonathan not to let anyone inside.”

“I’m guessing that’s your buttoned-up butler?” I take the glass from his hand, sniff it. Whiskey. I put it down on the floor. “I charmed him and he let me inside.”

His brows go up, and a flash of surprise goes through his gaze. “You did what?”

“I just flashed him. My badge.”

His mouth trembles, then tips up in a crooked smile. “Of course you did.”

“Storm said I should if your staff tried to stop me. Please don’t tell anyone I did that. My boss probably wouldn’t like me using my badge for personal stuff.”

“Wait a second… Storm? Why would he tell you that?”

“Because he’s so damn worried about you.” I take the hand that was resting on his thigh into both mine. “You worried us all. I’d slap you.”

“Go ahead. Knock yourself out.”

“Nah. You’d like it too much.”

“So I would.” A ghost of another smile touches his lips, quickly fading again. “Oh, I see the problem. You don’t want to give me that pleasure.”

My eyes well up, and I don’t try to hide it. “I’d do anything to please you. I’d hit you, bite you and kick you. I’d even whip you.”

A soft snort escapes him. He seems as surprised by the sound as I feel. “The hell you would.”

“Hey…”

“You came to ask me questions, didn’t you? Go ahead.” The walls come down behind his eyes. “About the case against Cronin? Or are you just curious about my freakish habits? I bet you’re dying to ask about Robert O’Connor and why I let him whip me.”

I can’t deny that, and even though I look away, I know he can read it on my face. I can’t hide anything from him.

He sighs. “I was seventeen. In love with a girl. Evelyn. I’d discovered I liked pain before that, but it wasn’t until I met Robert that I discovered how it could be. Shared between two people with similar needs, delivered skillfully, controlled. Robert was older, he was already in the Scene. He showed me. He’d have me meet him at his house, his basement. He’d flog me, and I’d leave from there lighter, but I hadn’t talked to Evelyn about it. I was sure she’d freak out. Back then I thought secrets could remain buried forever. I gave away my soul. That’s the price of dark secrets. And she found out anyway. Robert told her where to find us. He wanted more from me, as it turned out. I hadn’t known. Hadn’t realized. She went over the edge. Killed herself.”

“Shit.” Shock has stiffened my spine.

He gives a low, sharp bark of laughter. “You see, everyone around me dies. And I’m the cause.” He pulls his hand away and reaches for the bottle of whiskey on the low coffee table. “Got your fucking answers. I’m sure you can find your way out, just like you found your way in.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

He presses his lips into a thin line. Lets go of the bottle and sinks back in the armchair. “I’m tired, Mia.”

“I know. Listen to me. That asshole Robert set you up, took advantage of you. You have to stop feeling guilty about that, Rook. It’s dragging you down.”

He gives me a long, suspicious look from under lowered lashes. “Why are you here?”

“For you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not good at lying, Rook, remember? Or at pretending. Truth is… I missed you.”

He sits up, his smile slipping, eyes narrowing. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Mia.”

“Never,” I whisper.

He’s silent, looking at me, as if trying to read me, trying to figure out where the catch is, and I have to tell him the whole truth.

“You know… back when I said nothing changed… I was wrong.”

He nods, his expression shuttering, his eyes going flat and empty. “Everything has changed. I told you about my past. Plus, I’m Cronin’s son. I got my parents… the Carters killed. I got you hurt.”

“What are you talking about? Rook.” I put my hands on his strong thighs, feeling the muscles shift under the thin cloth of his pants. “Look at me.”

“You should go back home, Mia.” He glances at me, then away, but the pain in his gaze stays with me, stabs at me like a knife.

“No way. Listen to me.” I press my hands down, stroke his thighs. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

He laughs, a harsh sound. “The fuck it wasn’t. I got you into that mess. And I chose my friends over my parents, adopted or not. Sick fucks or not, they raised me, and I let them die. What sort of person does that?”

“Jesus, Rook. That’s not on you. Cronin gave you an impossible choice. You shouldn’t have to be made to choose between your best friends and your adopted parents. And as for me, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.”

“Doing your job?” he guesses, his voice a low rasp. “Fighting evil? Saving civilians?”

“No. I mean, by your side.”

I let this sink in.

He fights it. “I got Cronin killed. My father. I’m the one who asked Senator Brody for help. What happened…”

“What happened isn’t on you. You had no idea Brody had decided to kill Cronin. Did you?”

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched.

“You see? None of this is your fault.”

Hope goes through his eyes like a flash of lightning, there and then gone. “Is this why you’re here? To absolve me of my crimes?”

“You have no crimes to be absolved of.”

“Jesus, woman. Then why are you here?”

“For you, Rook. To be with you. I told you.”

His breath catches. “But you said… you said everything changed.”

“Yes. Because I fell in love with you.”