I took in a record number of clients that night, spreading the charm as thick as ever, well aware of Brent watching from his newly claimed corner in the bar. I refused to look at him, to even acknowledge him, for the rest of the night. And when Rhonda called closing, I thought about slipping out before he noticed, avoiding his demand of an escort. But then I knew Rachel would never forgive me if I got hurt because of my own stubbornness.

I changed quickly as the girls laughed and gossiped around me. I heard bits and pieces of it: So cute! Did you see that ass? And he must have money. Those clothes have never seen a Walmart rack!

I didn’t realize they were talking about Brent until one of the girls threw a bra in my direction.

“Hey! You ignoring us, or what?”

“Are you talking to me?”

“You took that hunk from Stone Security back to your room,” one of the girls, Miranda, said. “What was that like?”

I shrugged. “The guy’s a privileged dick. He thinks he can have anything he wants.”

“Well, he can have all he wants of me,” another girl, a petite blond whose name I didn’t know, said. The other girls laughed.

Once again, I turned and walked out, swinging my bag over my shoulder as I stepped through the heavy doors that led to the back hallway. There were a couple of guys standing at the door. They were big, military-looking guys who clearly worked for Brent. I tried to brush past them, but they weren’t having any of it.

“You have to be escorted, Ms. Walters.”

I glared at the one who’d spoken. “My car is right outside the door. Can’t you walk me out?”

“No, ma’am. My orders were to stop you at the door to wait for an escort.”

I stomped my foot like a two-year-old having a tantrum. I’m not quite sure what I thought that would accomplish, but it did nothing to move either of these guys. They just crossed their arms over their chests and stared me down.

“Such impatience,” Brent said, coming around the corner. “Always trying to get around my instructions.”

“Maybe that should tell you something.”

Brent had no response for that. He waved his hand at the guards and we watched as they separated, one of them pushing the doors open to allow us to slip through. Brent rested his hand on the small of my back, whatever had been keeping him from touching me before clearly a non-issue now. I picked up my speed, moving ahead of him so that his touch was nothing but a ghost of memory.

“What’s his last name?”

I glanced back at him. “Who?”

“This Curtis. I want to go have a talk with him.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It is, actually.”

He moved close to me as I fumbled with my keys, trying to push the appropriate button on the key fob. He brushed my hair over my shoulder, bearing an edge of my neck. I could feel his breath there, he was so close.

“I can’t stand the idea of anyone touching you. Especially him.”

“I’ve got it under control.”

“Do you? Then why were there bruises on your wrist?”

“It was my wrist, not my face. That’s an improvement.”

He grunted, a sound that was not as reassuring as it could have been. In fact, it was a sound full of anger and an edge of danger.

“He won’t hurt you again, Dane. Not while I’m around.”

I finally found the right button on my key fob. The car’s lights blinked as the audible sound of the doors unlocking filled the cool night air. I jerked the driver’s side door open and tossed my bag inside, following with my body.

“Blake. His name is Curtis Blake.”

I saw the sudden widening of his eyes as he recognized the name. I’d known he’d be surprised when I told him. I saw the place where his offices were located, knew the name Stone from my time as Curtis’s woman. They walked in the same circles, attended the same charity galas and church benefits. Hell, they probably grew up together, going to the same schools and the same colleges.

I drove off in a puff of dust, leaving him watching after me.

Let him chew on that a while.

*

I spent the morning with Rachel the following day, so lost in my thoughts over Brent that I didn’t have much to say to her. I painted her nails a subtle pink that she would have hated, needing the activity to keep from going absolutely insane. I was just packing up my things, thinking I might do some shopping before heading in to work, when one of the nurses came into the room to check Rachel’s vitals.

“How’s she been?” I asked, expecting to get the same answer I always seemed to get.

It’s a wait and see right now.

“About the same. But she’s got the doctors all in a tizzy this week.”

That wouldn’t have surprised me if she wasn’t in a coma. But since she was…

“Why’s that?”

The nurse glanced at me. “It’s not every day we have someone like Dr. Newly Constantine come to our hospital.”

“Newly Constantine?”

“He’s the world’s leading neurologist and he’s agreed to come take a look at Rachel’s case, to see if there’s anything more that can be done for her.”

This was the first I was hearing of this.

“Did the doctors arrange for that?”

“No. It was arranged by the Stone Family Foundation. Apparently one of the Stone brothers heard about her predicament and called Dr. Constantine himself.”

Brent.

I leaned forward a little and stared at Rachel through a shimmering sheet of tears. Was this really happening? Had he really arranged this? Would it help?

Some little spark of hope deep inside of me knew it would. It would make all the difference in the world. And it was all because of Brent.

I walked into the club with a new sense of optimism that day. I was even humming under my breath, a smile on my lips for the surly security guys on the back door. They didn’t smile back. In fact, they seemed even surlier than usual. But that did nothing to dampen my good mood.

And then Rhonda stepped out of her office.

“Can I speak to you a second, Dane?”

I followed her into her office, wondering what this could be about. Had there been another attack against one of the girls? Who now?

Rhonda closed her door and came to sit in one of two chairs in front of her desk. She gestured for me to sit in the other and I did, reluctantly. When she took my hands, I knew something was really wrong.

“Who is it?”

Her painted on eyebrows rose. “Who?”

“Someone was attacked, right?”

“No. This isn’t about the club.”

I tilted my head slightly, relief only slightly dampening my sense of unease. “Then what?”

“It’s the Stones.” She watched my face a second, an understanding in her soft brown eyes. “I’ve noticed that you’ve grown close to Brent and I thought you should know what’s going on.”

I sat up a little straighter as though preparing for a physical blow.

She squeezed my hands. “There was some sort of attack on Brent’s house in the middle of the night last night. From what I understand, there was a fire in the living room. They got it out and he escaped, but then Jack and Brent got into a scuffle with a group of motorcyclists.” She said it like it was a question rather than a fact. “I don’t know all the details, but I spoke to Brent earlier in the day and he’s fine. He’s at Stone Security.”

“Will he be here tonight?”

Rhonda shook her head. “Whatever’s happening there is his priority right now. But I’m sure he’ll be back in a few days.” She squeezed my hands again. “I just wanted you to hear it from me before you heard it somewhere else. People have a way of talking and sometimes not everything they feel the need to pass on is terribly accurate.”

“Thank you.”

I went to work then, but I couldn’t really concentrate. My clients didn’t seem to notice the difference, but I did. I stood in my room waiting for clients to disrobe and I’d hold Brent’s card between my fingers, thinking I should call him. But then this intense fear that he wouldn’t want to hear from me right now would overwhelm me and I’d put it away, determined to forget about him. But then I’d have that card in my hand again.

I couldn’t sleep when I finally got home. I couldn’t shut my head off. The man treated me like a whore, but then he did something so kind as to arrange for a world-renowned neurologist to come in and take a look at my friend’s case. Who does that? But then he’s in all this trouble and he doesn’t make an attempt to contact me? Why not? How could he tell me he doesn’t want anyone else to touch me, but then leave me in the dark when his life is clearly in danger?

I needed to know more about who this man was.

It was on the news when I got out of the shower the next morning. A man was killed at Jack Stone’s house, a security guard shot in the front yard by an unknown assailant. Even though I knew that if it had been Brent shot in his brother’s front yard it would be the one thing they’d lead with, my heart still stuttered when I first heard it.

Was their business really that dangerous?

I got in my car, intent on driving to the hospital to sit with Rachel. Instead, I found myself at the library. I sat at one of the computers, aware that this had been my intention all along even though I tried to hide it from myself. I had to know.

I plugged Brent’s name in to the search bar and prepared myself for what would come up next. But nothing could really have prepared me.

Suicide Takes the Life of Local Philanthropist, the first headline read.

Dean Stone Takes his own Life, another read.

And then there were the headlines about Madeline and Josie.

I printed them out, all of them. There were a dozen articles and it cost enough to have me questioning my sanity, but I couldn’t sit there in that public place and read about Brent’s personal tragedy over and over again. I needed to be able to do it in private. That’s how I spent my afternoon. I sat on my second-hand couch in my rundown apartment and cried for Brent and the darkness that had touched his life.

Tragedy didn’t even begin to describe it. Brent had lost both his parents, his wife, and his daughter in the stretch of two years. That was a fucking nightmare.