He sounded surprised and annoyed, and there was something else in the undertone of his voice. I thought maybe it was hurt, but it was so fleeting and hard to read that I couldn’t be sure.

I looked into his eyes. I’d been avoiding them, because it was always Jace’s eyes that stripped me of my defenses. But I held his gaze and said, “They told me. They should have told me before our first session. It would have been different if they had. I would have—”

“Stop.” His voice was flat. “They aren’t supposed to tell you. That’s what the word confidential means in confidential informant. The more people who know, the more chances I have to get killed for it.”

“Your file is confidential,” I said. “Believe me.”

Jace looked at me coolly and steadily. The happy, unfocused, slightly drunk look was gone; he was dead sober now. “I wondered why I got put in the counseling program,” he said. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. They keep us out because the fewer people who know who we are, the better. I thought I was a special case.” A swift shot of pain crossed his eyes, then was gone again. “How did you track me down, by the way? It must have been Luke.”

“It was,” I said. “I told him I wanted to find you. To apologize.”

He seemed to calculate something. “Luke doesn’t know,” he said. “None of my brothers do.”

I nodded. “How did it start?” I asked. “The informing? Since I already know about it, you can tell me.”

He looked away and quickly drummed his fingers on his jean-clad knee. Always thinking, thinking. This man looked like an everyday bad boy, but he was so damned complicated, I didn’t think I’d ever peel away all of his layers. “I guess you know my mother left,” he said. “That must be in the file.”

“Briefly, yes.”

“Well, briefly describes how long she was in my life. Dad raised us. Which meant basically we were on our own.”

I tried to imagine that and couldn’t. I wasn’t close to my parents, but at least I’d had them.

Jace went on. “When I was seven, I made a big mistake. I asked Dad if I could get a bike. All the other kids had one, and I wanted one.” He drummed his fingers on his knee again, then stopped. “Dad laughed in my face and said that was a pussy thing to ask for. You have to understand that pussy is Dad’s biggest insult, next to faggot. My father is all class.”

I looked down at my lap. No, I couldn’t imagine it.

“Dex was there,” Jace said. “He was nine. He defended me, which wasn’t his usual M.O. He told Dad that a bike wasn’t a pussy thing, it was badass. And that at least I’d be able to pedal away from him faster.” He lifted his hand and traced the shell of his ear. “Dad punched him hard, right here. Right on the ear. Dex fell over—it was the surprise, I think, because Dex was a tough kid. Of the four of us, he took the most hits. He didn’t say anything and he didn’t cry, but his ear was bright red for the rest of the day. My big brother had stood up for me for once in his life, and Dad knocked him down for it.”

My heart was breaking. “Jace.”

He shrugged, his shoulders graceful under his leather jacket. “The next day I went to Riggs Auto and I opened the till and took the money to buy a bike. And I didn’t feel bad about it.” I raised my gaze and found him looking at me. He continued. “After high school, Dad gave me a job at Riggs Auto. When he got involved with the stolen car shit, he told me to shut up and do as I was told or I’d be in big trouble. So I shut up and did as I was told, and then I went to the cops and offered to tell them anything they wanted to know. And I didn’t feel bad about that either.”

I shook my head. “What about the stealing? How did that start?”

“Dad told me to do it,” Jace said. “By then I was overhearing important shit. Everyone saw me as the quiet Riggs brother, the obedient one, so they said whatever around me. I was getting information on drug shipments, warehouses, illegal firearms deals. If I said no, I was out of the circle. So I stole cars.” He ran a hand through his hair, and I caught a glimpse of his silver rings in the moonlight. “I actually was good at it. That part was true. Yeah, it was illegal. But I made some good money and I never hurt anyone. It was fun to be really good at something for once.”

“They let you go to prison,” I said, “after you gave them all that information.”

He looked at me thoughtfully, tilting his head. “If you steal cars, you might spend some time sitting in a cell. That’s how the world works.”

“Well, it sucks,” I said, forcefully.

He smiled at me, and it was a little sad, and I wanted to climb into his lap and put my mouth on his until he stopped looking sad and instead looked like he wanted to fuck me right here on this bench. I wondered if I’d ever make him look like that. I wondered if some other woman made him look like that, and who she was, and whether she was beautiful.

I don’t fuck, Jace had said. He’d never explained why.

As if he was reading my mind, he leaned in toward me, his breath against the shell of my ear. He smelled like leather and beer and hot, sexy man. “You can’t help me, Tara,” he said. “You think you can, but you can’t.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s my job.”

“Not anymore it isn’t.” He inhaled softly, and I knew he was scenting me like I’d scented him. He changed position and his lips ghosted over mine, the touch so light I almost thought I’d imagined it. I inhaled in surprise, but he pulled back, still looking in my eyes. “My broken parts will stay broken,” he said. “You can’t do anything about that.”

“Because that’s the way the world works?” I asked.

“Pretty much.”

I gave it back to him. I leaned and brushed my lips over his, petal-light.

“Watch me,” I said.