Kyle must have called Bo because he was blowing up my phone less than two minutes later. I ignored the calls, needing a few minutes to wrap my head around what had just happened.

“I told you,” Violet whispered over and over again as she rocked in the seat beside me.

“Shut up!”

She looked at me, shock filling her eyes. “What did you say?”

I just shook my head, a sob bubbling up from the place where I’d shoved it down during that whole episode, slipping from between my lips as my eyes filled with tears. If I was perfectly honest with myself, I would have preferred to go to my apartment and lock myself in my bedroom for a year or two. I didn’t want to look at anyone, didn’t want to speak with anyone. I just wanted to scrub myself raw and hide under my bedcovers for the rest of my life.

My hands were shaking and I could hardly see the road through my tears, but I somehow managed to get us to Stone Security’s complex outside of town, pulling to a stop under the canopy in front of the odd, box-shaped steel and glass building.

“What is this?” Violet demanded.

“I need to talk to Bo. To my brothers.”

“This wasn’t the agreement! You’re supposed to take me back to that house!”

“For what, Violet? What are you planning on doing there?”

She didn’t answer, but I knew what her plan was. She was going to climb out one of the back windows and run. She was going to disappear like a coward.

“You got me into this mess. You’re going to help me get us out.”

She shook her head violently, her blond hair flying around her crazed face. “I can’t. Don’t you see? Did you get nothing from that? He has power and he’s not afraid to use it!”

“Well, he’s chosen the wrong people to mess with this time.”

I got out of the car, but she didn’t. She stubbornly sat there in the passenger seat, her duffle in her arms again. I was about to yank open the car door and force her out, but Bo came bursting out of the front doors of the building. His hands were instantly on each side of my face, his thumb caressing my cheeks as his worried eyes moved frantically over my face, my chest, my body.

As much as I loved his touch, as much as I desired it…it was too much.

I pulled away.

“What the fuck happened?”

I shook my head, glancing back at the car where Violet was desperately trying not to look at us.

“She insisted she needed things from her house. I thought—fuck! I don’t know what I thought.” I dragged my fingers through my hair, pacing without even realizing I was moving until I looked up and Bo was no longer where I thought he should be. I spun on my heel to find him right where I’d left him. “Someone splattered some sort of red paint all over her bedroom and hung a picture of some dead guy. It was really creepy.”

I sighed, calming a little as I remembered the scene. But then…

“We were on our way back to the guesthouse when this cop pulled me over. He said I had a bad tail light—which I didn’t—and then he forced me out of the car when I went to get my registration, like he saw a gun or something. He put his hands on me and…”

I shivered, the memory of it still too clear in my head.

“Goddamn it, Remy! What have you got yourself messed up in?”

I shook my head, tears beginning to roll down my cheeks. “I was just trying to help her.”

He came to me again, raising his hands to touch me, but hesitating. I moved into him, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to feel his familiar touch, to feel his arms around me. I needed the safety his presence promised.

He held me as I sobbed against his chest. His hands moved slowly, patiently, over my back. That was okay until his hand moved over my right kidney and pain rushed through me. I hissed and he stiffened, pushing me back slightly, a question written in his eyes. But then Jack and Brent both came rushing out of the building.

“Remy? What’s going on?”

And then chaos reigned supreme.

*

They forced Violet out of the car. I wasn’t there to see it happen. Brent took me inside the building and down to the gym where they had a medic on duty most of the time. Today it was a woman, a petite redhead who blushed furiously each time she looked at Brent. I wanted to tell her that that ship had sailed, but it seemed like a cruel thing to do.

She asked me a couple of questions and lifted my shirt, studied the spot on my back for a moment, her fingers cold as she probed the area.

“Keep an eye out for dark urine. Otherwise, you’ll probably be okay.”

“Thanks.”

She nodded, watching me walk toward the door. Then, clearing her throat a few times, she asked, “Is he seeing someone? There’ve been rumors…”

I felt like I was back in high school and the upper classmen were asking me about Gentry.

“I’m afraid he is.” Her face fell, so I couldn’t help but add a disclaimer. “But it’s probably just a rebound. He’ll probably be looking for someone new in a month or two.”

She nodded, a ghost of a smile touching her eyes. “Good to know.”

Kim, Jack’s secretary, was waiting outside the door.

“They want you upstairs.”

It was annoying that they couldn’t bother to come get me themselves, but I followed her just the same.

“What did they do with Violet?”

“Ms. Mitchell?” Kim glanced at me as she waited for the elevator to respond to her request for service. “She’s been taken to the safe room.”

Safe room was a misnomer. It was actually a set of rooms—five, to be precise—where the hierarchy of the company could hide out during a siege. The area also contained a control room from which a knowledgeable person could control every aspect of the building as well as watch and communicate with teams out in the field who’d been wired with cameras and communication devices. It was actually a pretty brilliant set up everyone had had some part in. It began as something of a fantasy we tossed around the night of Dad’s funeral, but it grew into something bigger when Jack announced his idea that we all toss our money into his dream of creating a security firm.

I was a little surprised when Kim led the way down the hall that would take us to Brent’s office rather than Jack’s. But then I remembered my conversation with Violet—which I repeated to Bo—about the listening device. He must have found something last night.

At least he didn’t leave me for nothing.

“Have a seat, Remy,” Jack demanded, gesturing for me to sit in a chair set just off to one side of Brent’s desk.

Bo came into the room as I sat down, no curtains in his eyes anymore. He was clearly concerned, his eyes searching my face in silent demand for an answer. I inclined my head slightly, but that didn’t do anything to alleviate that concern.

Brent leaned back against his desk in front of me, his own concerns written in the dark shadows under his eyes.

“Tell us what happened, Rem.”

I ran through the story, telling them everything I could remember, leaving out a few details that didn’t seem terribly pertinent. They didn’t need to know exactly where the gun was pointed, for example. But I told them everything else, even showed them the pictures I’d taken of the master bedroom at Violet’s.

“This is sick,” Jack said as he studied the pictures.

“I think something happened in her past that caused her to have a nervous breakdown and West is trying to make her have another to discredit her,” I explained. “It makes sense. A lawyer who’s had a mental break might as well take down her shingle and go find another profession to dabble in.”

Jack handed the phone back to me. “We need to find out who the guy in the photograph is.”

“We should also do a sweep of the entire building,” Brent added.

I twisted around so that I could see Bo. He inclined his head slightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “She was right. There was a bug in Jack’s office.”

“Then we’re taking her seriously now?”

Bo deferred to Jack who nodded. “We are. In fact, Brent’s about to go down and talk to her, see how much more information we can get out of her. If we’re up against a dirty cop, we need to know more.”

“What about this motorcycle club?” I asked. “Was she right about that? Are they in his pocket? Does that have something to do with what you guys have been up to lately?”

Jack and Brent exchanged a look. Jack shook his head and Brent made a low sound kind of like a groan.

“Those things are separate cases that had very little to do with each other let alone anything else, Remy. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“But what if she’s right? What if this Mad Dog group is working with West? Isn’t that something we should worry about?”

Again, that look that told me they knew more than what they were willing to tell me. That pissed me off. I brought this thing to them and I was the one the cop harassed out in the middle of a public street. I think I earned the right to know what was happening here.

I jumped to my feet, pain slicing through my back that I ignored.

“I have to get to work. When you guys decide to let me in on what’s going on, I’d really appreciate a phone call or something.”

I stormed out, aware that I was only a source of amusement to my big brothers, but feeling slightly better from my temper tantrum anyway.

Bo caught up with me at the elevator.

“What do you want?”

“I’m going to drive you to work.”

I glanced at him. “Why? You think I can’t handle myself, too?”

His eyebrows rose. “I actually feel sorry for the cop who had to deal with you.”

That was the right answer.

He drove me to my apartment so that I could change. I left him in the living room and shut myself up in my bedroom, keeping it together until I was in the shower. Then the horror and shame of what had happened overwhelmed me, drawing sobs from deep inside. I cried harder than I had since my mom died, shaking so hard that I had to sit down on the floor of the shower for a long moment, the hot water pounding on me like the teardrops falling from my eyes.

I don’t often let myself indulge in that type of self-pity. But it felt like I was owed it this time.

When I managed to pull myself together, I fell into my normal morning routine, washing my soaking wet hair, scrubbing my skin raw with my favorite soap. After the shower, I took a moment to offer some consolation to my skin with an expensive, scented lotion a friend had sent me a few months ago. A quick braid for my hair when I realized how late I was running and I stumbled around the bedroom, looking for the brown skirt I wanted to wear today. I tripped over a cord and pulled a lamp off my nightstand, a string of curses flowing from between my lips.

“Hey! You okay?”

I just shook my head, staring down at the mess, my back to the door where Bo now stood. At least, I thought…but then he was behind me, his fingers lightly tracing a spot over my right kidney.

“Fuck, Remy!”

His voice was low, deep, filled with anger and concern that made me turn. His eyes were wide, taking in everything about me as I stood there practically naked, only a thin pair of panties covering my body.

It’d been a long time since he’d seen me in such a state of undress and we weren’t children anymore.

I don’t know who moved first. All I know is that I was in his arms, my fingers buried in the short, spiky hair at the back of his neck as he stole my lips. His kiss was becoming so familiar, but it was still new enough that it felt like I was discovering something different each time he touched me. And his taste…it was just as intoxicating each time, but there was something unique about each encounter that only increased the driving need that had lived inside of me for what felt like a lifetime; this need to be close to him, to be everything with him.

His touch was frantic at first, his hands moving almost roughly over my back, my ass. But then it slowed, became careful. Caring. This touch wasn’t just about sexual attraction, not just about satisfying a physical need. This touch was much more than that.

He lifted me up, pulled my hips up against his until I was able to wrap my legs around him, his mouth moving over the pulse pounding off to one side of my throat. I leaned my head back and moaned, my hand sliding over his head, drawing him closer, holding him as tight against me as I could. I was inside a cloud of his masculinity, of his scent and his taste and his touch, deciding I could live there forever. This was where I’d always been meant to be.

He was breathing hard when he pulled back to look at me, his eyes slightly hooded as he regarded me. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

I ran my hand over the side of his face. “I can think of a few things.”

He groaned. “You’re going to get me into so much trouble.”

“How’s that?”

He gave me this look that suggested he thought I was a little slow. He turned and leaned over to dump me on the bed, but I wouldn’t let go of his neck, so he was forced to balance on the mattress above me. I reached up, nibbled at a spot just above the collar of his shirt, breathing deeply of his scent as I did.

“Remy,” he groaned, “we can’t do this.”

“Why not? It feels pretty right to me. Doesn’t it feel right to you?”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. My entire life is based on my relationship with your family. I can’t do anything to screw that up.”

That was like a gush of cold water. I let him go as I fell back against the bed, my arms automatically moving to cover my bare breasts.

“Is that what you really think? That my brothers would shut you out if you did something they didn’t approve of?”

“This is more than that.”

“No…”

I studied him for a moment and realized that was exactly what he thought. I got up, quickly snatched a bra out of a drawer and slid it on, covering myself with a random pink blouse and a dark skirt I snagged from my closet, needing to be clothed before we had this conversation. I could feel him watching me, could feel the weight of his eyes on my body. Normally I would have enjoyed that feeling, would have taken advantage of it. But not now.

“You still think of yourself as the help.”

The words fell like bricks between us. He wouldn’t look at me when I came to a rest in front of him, staring at him with the naked disbelief that rushed through me like an engorged river in the spring unhidden in every line of my face. He buried his hands in the front pockets of his suit pants, his legs spread just enough to suggest a stance of confidence. But I knew him better than that.

“I thought you’d gotten over that a long time ago! I thought we’d shown you often enough that we consider you a part of the family. Even Mom…she went out of her way to always make sure you felt included! How could you still—”

“Because it’s a fact, Remy.”

His voice was low and calm, but I could hear the little boy in it. The boy he’d once been who refused to enter our home through the front door, who was always painfully polite and who disappeared whenever we had guests over. His aunt and her employers had taught him well what his place was in their household. My parents never treated him that way, but some things were hard to overcome.

“This isn’t about Gentry. It’s not about your friendship. You don’t want to be with me because you don’t think you’re good enough.”

His eyes slowly came up to mine. “I’m the son of a woman who partied so hard in college that she not only failed out, but ended up pregnant with a child whose father could have been any of a dozen men. My mother couldn’t hold down a job, couldn’t keep her legs closed long enough to find a legitimate way to pay the rent, and when she got cancer…if she hadn’t been so vain and refused the mastectomy, she might still be alive.” He studied my face for a moment. “Is that really the sort of legacy you want around you? That you want to pin your fate to?”

“You’re not your mother.”

“No? You weren’t around when I was in college and the Air Force. You could ask Gentry…there wasn’t much difference between the two of us.”

It hurt me to think about it. I’d heard things—boys tend to talk just as much as girls—but I chose to take it all with a grain of salt. To hear a confirmation…it hurt to think of him with all those girls. But he was a gorgeous man. It would be naive to think he hadn’t had his share of sexual conquests.

“I don’t care about that.”

“Sure, you do. And that sort of thing has a way of haunting a person. Do you want that in your life? You want some girl to come to our door someday and announce that I knocked her up at a crazy frat party twenty years ago?”

“That won’t happen. You aren’t that stupid.”

He laughed, a dark laugh that hurt more than his revelations because it revealed how twisted his mother and aunt had left his soul.

“I’m not who you think I am, Remy. You have this image in your head of me, this guy you put up on a pedestal when you were twelve years old. You think I’m some paragon of goodness, some prince on a fucking white horse. But I’m not.”

“I don’t want that.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He stepped into me, gripped my chin a little harder than I could imagine he intended, forcing me to look up at him. “You want someone like Brent, a guy who loved his wife to a fault, forgiving her of anything and everything simply because she was the woman he’d chosen. You want a guy who would grieve you for a lifetime should you die an early death. You want…you want the fairy tale. I can’t give that to you.”

I wrapped my hands in the loose material of his shirt, tugging him deeper into me.

“I want the Bo I grew up with, the guy who always included me in the games you and Gentry played even when Gentry was telling you to leave me behind. I want the guy who came to my bedroom when I was sick and watched Disney movies with me. I want the guy sat in the kitchen for hours at a time and kept my mom company when the rest of us were too busy with our own adolescent things to see how much she missed having us all around.”

I could see a fight going on in his eyes, see his emotions warring with one another as his thumb moved over my bottom lip, this need inside of him fighting with what he thought was the right thing.

“You didn’t see all of it, Remy. You didn’t see the bad jokes I made about you behind your back, the gossip I extracted from you for Gentry.” He shook his head so sadly it broke my heart into a million pieces. “You don’t know the lies I’ve told women to get what I wanted out of them, don’t know how many broken hearts I’ve intentionally left in my wake. You don’t know the things I’ve done that I’m not proud of.”

“I’m not perfect, either. No one is.”

He laughed again. “You’re as perfect as it gets, babe. You deserve the best.”

“How do you know that’s not you?”

He wrapped his hands around my wrists and tugged at them to force me to let go of him. “You’re late for work and I have stuff to do at the office. We should go.”

He moved around me, walked calmly from the room, that false confidence back in his stance, in his movements. He broke my heart like no one else ever could. I wanted to chase after him, yell at him until he believed the things about him that I believed. But I knew him well enough to know it wouldn’t do any good.

A heavy cloud of despair fell over me. For the first time, I was truly afraid that Bo and I were never going to find our way to each other.