Madison pressed a hand to her chest and froze. That was leaking out? Oh, god. How? Fear gripped her. Did Winston think she was trying to expose the truth? If he did, he would come after her—with every tool at his disposal.

  “What is it?” Nash asked.

  “Shh.” She stayed glued to the TV.

  “That is a despicable lie, designed to shake my family during our time of grief.” Winston glared at the reporter, his narrow-eyed accusation promising payback. “There’s no validity whatsoever to that trash.”

  “Meanwhile on Capital Hill…” The news program cut to a junior representative currently making waves and unleashing Twitter storms every other day.

  Madison let out a trembling sigh, then turned to Nash, trying not to panic. “You’re sure no one saw us when we walked in?”

  “You were wearing a ball cap and sunglasses. We didn’t pass anyone.”

  “Cameras?”

  He winced. “Everywhere. But I think they’re meant as more of a deterrent than serious security.”

  But he didn’t know for sure. Somehow, Winston seemed to learn people’s filthiest little secrets. She’d spent more time keeping her nose clean than trying to figure out how he managed to dig up so much dirt. Now it made her paranoid. What if Winston really could pick up the phone in any town or city and find someone willing to divulge anything about anyone for a favor and some cash?

  “I hope you’re right.” She set aside her half-full plate and started pacing. What was she going to do if he wasn’t?

  Nash tossed his dish on the coffee table and rose, taking her by the shoulders. “Listen, I know Matt didn’t tell me everything that’s going on, and probably for good reason. I don’t expect you to tell me, either. But maybe you should give me a heads-up so I’m braced for whatever I’m guarding you against. Since that news segment was live, Winston Pershing himself obviously isn’t going to show up here in the next thirty minutes and point a gun in my face.”

  “No. He has people to do his dirty work.”

  “Good ones, I assume.”

  “If they weren’t, he wouldn’t still employ them. He doesn’t suffer incompetence.” Except among his family. He’d long ago accepted that his son was worthless, politically speaking. He didn’t have a shred of ambition. Winston probably liked everyone under his roof being utterly dependent on him.

  “What about your husband? Think he’d come here and—”

  “He’s capable of almost anything.” His murdering Brent had proven that. “Maybe you should talk to Matt.” Madison didn’t think in terms of violence the way he’d been trained to.

  “I have been most of the day.” He held up his phone, which conveniently buzzed again.

  That sent Madison reeling. Every time she convinced herself that Matt didn’t care, he did something to make her question that. She had to stop going round and round. She had to stop hoping things between them would change. “And?”

  “You’re going deeper into hiding in the morning. I’m supposed to take you to the rendezvous point at oh-seven-hundred.”

  “And Matt?” She both hoped and feared he would say yes.

  “He just told me you’ll be with Ethan, one of the new guys.”

  Because he didn’t want to deal with her baggage or he didn’t want to be near her. Either way, the news crushed her. “I’m going to take a shower and get ready for bed.”

  “At eight o’clock?”

  She sighed. “It’s been a really horrible couple of days.”

  And despite everything, the fact she wouldn’t have the comfort of Matt’s body against hers only upset her more.

  “Sure.” He released her. “Sorry. I know it’s been rough. You don’t want to finish your dinner?”

  The idea of food actually made her queasy. “I’m good. I’ll just take my backpack and…”

  “Okay. Do whatever you need. You can have the bed tonight. I’ll crash on the sofa.”

  “I don’t want to kick you out of your room. Is the sofa even big enough for you?”

  “I’ll manage. Besides, if anyone wants to get into the bedroom to get to you, they’ll have to get through me first.”

  Madison tried to tell herself that wasn’t as terrifying as it sounded. “Just in case…what should I do if something happens?”

  “Like we have unexpected company? Don’t worry about me—under any circumstances. You go. Head to the little dog balcony.”

  “The what?”

  He shoveled in the last bite and swallowed. “You know, one of those balconies so tiny it’s only there for someone’s pet chihuahua to take a shit on.”

  That was such a man response, Madison had to laugh. “They’re called Juliet balconies.”

  Nash scowled. “As in Romeo and?”

  “Exactly. They’re decorative. Pretty. I don’t think they were designed with dogs’ functions in mind.”

  “Well, someone needs to tell the sorority sister with the next balcony on the left to stop using hers in lieu of the dog park. That’s some bad news on a hot summer day.”

  “Anyway…” Madison prompted, shaking her head. “The balcony? If someone comes?”

  “Yeah, my piece of shit unit used to be attached to the one on the right. When they split it in half, they reimagined the floor plan like they were stoned, because you can only access my balcony from the bathroom. You’ll have to unlock the door and climb out. Once you do, stand on the railing—carefully—and jump up. Down is a free fall to a broken leg—or worse. But the guy above me is terrified of fires, so he’s got an emergency ladder in place. Get a hold of the bottom rung that’s dangling and pull. Once it slides down, climb it, then reel it back up.”

  “But then I’m trapped on your neighbor’s balcony.”

  “He sleeps like the dead. A couple months back, I met this woman in a bar, and we came back here. Things got really loud and…” Nash suddenly smiled, like he recalled who he was talking to. “Let’s just say every other neighbor complained…except that one.”

  “I don’t need the details, just tell me how I’m supposed to get into your neighbor’s unit if he sleeps that hard. And if I knock, won’t the bad guys hear me?”

  “Yeah. But you don’t have to knock. These balcony doors are old as fuck. They don’t lock well. Lift up the handle and jiggle a little. It will come open. A few steps, and you’ll be in his unit. It’s set up exactly like mine, so head out his front door and down the hall. When you reach the courtyard area, you’ll see a catwalk that connects you to the other tower. Get across and get out through their parking garage. It will dump you right around the corner from the university bar scene. Dive into one those places and wait. What number are you using now?”

  She rattled off the number of her burner phone and watched as he inputted it into his device. “What if I can’t get that guy’s door open?”

  “It shouldn’t be a problem, but if getting in goes sideways, stay really still. No one below should be able to see up there.”

  She nodded. “Anything else?”

  He approached, concern on his face. “Yeah. Try not to worry. I got you.”

  “Thanks. This is temporary. Tomorrow night, you’ll have your bed back.” And she’d be with Ethan, whoever that was. “Maybe you’ll find another loud girl from a nearby bar.”

  “Right now, my priority is you.” He kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep.”

  Madison nodded, then padded into the bedroom and shut the door. After a quick shower, she dressed in her spare change of clean clothes and flopped onto the big bed with sheets that smelled like Nash and sighed. She doubted she would sleep much. Her temporary bodyguard was in the next room, TV still spouting its canned laugh track through the wall, and he was armed. In theory, she was safe. Almost no one had a clue where she was, and she had an escape route if she needed one.

  Still, she couldn’t relax. She couldn’t stop thinking about Matt, couldn’t stop wondering what tomorrow would bring.

  Hours passed. The light from under the door finally darkened. The TV went quiet, leaving only the vague sounds of partying people getting their brews on in the unit next door and the sound of someone down the street lighting fireworks ahead of Fourth of July. Everything seemed normal.

  Except her.

  Flopping onto her other side, she sighed. A glance at the clock told her it was just after midnight. Following her exhausting escape from DC and a late, tumultuous night with Matt, she should be wrung out.

  Instead, she rose to grab one of the fitness magazines she’d seen on his nightstand—it beat spending more time staring at Nash’s wall and questioning her life choices—when she heard a crash in the next room. Her first instinct was to open the door and see if her friend needed help, but he cursed loudly and grunted. Were those punches being thrown?

  “Get the fuck out!” he demanded.

  Panic flared through her veins. Someone was in his apartment. Nash was both calling them off and warning her.

  Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god.

  Madison turned around the room, admonishing herself. Think fast!

  Panting, she searched for her shoes and her backpack, stepping into the first and plucking up the second the moment she spotted it. With trembling fingers, she searched every pocket. The USB drive was still there, but her burner phone was charging in the kitchen.

  The scuffle in the next room grew louder. A man growled out in pain. Madison bit back a cry. Everything inside her wanted to rush into the living room and help Nash. But he’d told her not to. And if the intruders had anything to do with the Pershings, the moment they had her in their clutches, they would waste him. Nash was a witness they didn’t need. If she escaped, they would keep him alive to extract information. It would be horrible, but at least he wouldn’t be dead. And she would send help.

  Feeling helpless, she dashed to Nash’s bathroom and climbed out the window—just as she heard gunshots explode in the night.

  By four in the morning, Matt swore he was going to lose his mind. Hunter’s call shortly after midnight that Nash’s place had been hit, that his friend was in the ER fighting for his life, and that Madison was missing had sent him into a full-blown fucking panic. Every indication was that she’d escaped, but he’d been scouring the area around the university for over three hours now. He’d seen no sign of her.

  The attack on Nash’s apartment hadn’t been random. He suspected Pershing’s people, and they weren’t fucking around. What if they’d run Madison down in the past few hours and taken her? He had some ugly ideas about what they’d do once they got their hands on her. Pershing himself might see reason. He would be more inclined to avoid the scandal—or criminal charges—that came from being implicated in his granddaughter-in-law’s murder. He would negotiate—to a point. Todd, on the other hand… If the bloodthirsty asshole could slit the throat of his cousin and best friend he’d loved, what would he do to the wife he despised?

  On the seat beside him, his phone rang. He prayed it was a random number, that Madison might have found a phone to call him. Instead, Joaquin Muñoz’s name lit up the display.

  “Yeah,” he answered, making another right turn around the now-dark bars and kitschy restaurants surrounding the university. He spotted a twenty-four-hour pancake house with a smattering of people inside and whipped his truck into the first parking spot.

  “I’m at the hospital with Nash,” Joaquin said. “He’s going to make it. He got nearly thirty stitches, and he lost a shit-ton of blood after a blade nicked his femoral artery. They’re keeping him for a bit longer to give him another round of blood and to observe him. Thank God the police showed up when they did.”

  “Thank God he’s all right. Who called 911?”

  “Anonymous tip.”

  Madison? Matt couldn’t be sure. “Can Nash tell us anything?”

  “They haven’t let me see him yet. Besides being used as a target for some asshole’s blade, he also has a concussion, presumably from hitting his head when he fell. They’re running some other tests and taking X-rays.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Hey, his injuries may sound bad, but Nash came out the winner. He’ll recover. The officer who was first on the scene assured me the goon with the broken neck and the two with GSWs to the head will not. Anything new there?”

  Matt shoved his truck into park and climbed out. “Nothing. I’ve already swept Nash’s building—every floor of both towers. Now I’m going to hit the surrounding area on foot.”

  That seemed like the next likely place to search since the university scene was the closest public vicinity for her to disappear.

  “All those bars closed two hours ago,” Joaquin pointed out.

  Matt hardly needed his boss to remind him. That had been screaming through his head for a hundred-twenty horrible minutes.

  “Maybe there’s a place where someone could linger, like this pancake house I’m about to skim. Any updates from Hunter or Logan?” He spoke carefully, in case Pershing’s people had already zeroed in on him and were listening to his calls.

  “Nothing beyond the fact they’re looking, too. Hunter headed for Dad’s house, just in case.”

  Matt frowned, then realized Joaquin wasn’t talking about his stepfather, Caleb Edgington.

  “It’s futile.” Even if Madison wouldn’t be risking her father because he was in Houston, she was too smart to head someplace as obvious as her childhood home.

  “Probably, but better to check all the angles. And…he just texted me. No one was home. Anywhere else he should try? Logan is doing a drive-by of known friends’ apartments.”

  Matt cursed in frustration. She wouldn’t put her girl-gang in jeopardy, either. “He’s not going to find anything.”

  “You got better ideas about where we should be looking?”

  He didn’t, and that was a huge chunk of his foul mood. “Have you had any communication at all with Nash? Do we even know what happened?”

  “Nope. All I have is an update on his condition, because I was a good boy and presented the proper paperwork. And Trees showed up.”

  “At least there’s that.”

  “Yeah,” Joaquin seconded. “Tell me where to look, and we’ll do it.”

  Matt tried to mentally map the city and think of places Madison could have escaped. Lafayette wasn’t bursting with taxis. They happened…but not often. She knew better than to use credit cards—not that she had one with her—so that left out ride-share options. She wouldn’t have called anyone who couldn’t handle the danger for a pickup or a place to crash—if she could even have gotten her hands on a phone. According to Hunter, her burner device was sitting uselessly on Nash’s kitchen counter. If she remembered anyone’s phone number—big if—pay phones were extinct. She probably could have hoofed it to campus police. But if she had, someone would have reached out to them by now.

  So, she was on foot with limited resources. Fuck. Where would she have gone? How far could she have traveled?

  “Has anyone tried that big park south of campus?” Matt knew he was grasping at straws.

  “I’ll get Hunter on it.”

  “Tell him to try the twenty-four-hour pharmacy about six blocks west, too.” Maybe she was hiding there.

  Waiting for what?

  “Isn’t that a national chain now…with cameras and facial recognition?”

  True, but she wasn’t trained to think of that shit. “Just try it.”

  Joaquin sighed. “Okay. I texted him. He’s en route. Logan came up blank. Anyplace you want me to send him?”

  Matt was flat fucking out of ideas—for her sake, he couldn’t afford to be. He’d lost her for three years. He’d be damned if, so soon after finding her again, he let harm come to her. “Isn’t there a twenty-four-hour gym east of campus? I think I remember—”

  A beeping interrupted his call. Matt paused on the steps of the pancake house and stared at his phone. Incoming call from Ethan Garrison. What the fuck did he want? “Does Ethan know anything?”

  “Nope. Only the six of us in the gazebo. And Nash.”

  Who was in no position to spill anything—not that he would blab secrets.

  Matt declined the call.

  “I don’t know why he’s calling me, then. It’ll wait. Let me think of somewhere else Logan can search…” But before he could pull a new location out of his ass, his phone beeped once more. He gave it another glance. “It’s fucking Ethan again. Why does he keep calling me in the middle of the night?”

  “No idea. Gotta go. A nurse is finally taking me back to see Nash. Talk to Ethan and figure out what the fuck he’s up to. If it’s anything helpful, holler back.”

  “Roger that.” He dropped the call from his boss with an exasperated sigh to answer the aggravating punk.

  Yeah, they were all supposed to gel together and trust each other and be a band of brothers, blah, blah, blah. The bosses had gotten big on that in the past couple of years, but Ethan hadn’t really tried to mesh.

  Have you made any effort to include him?

  “What?” he barked at Ethan as he barged into the pancake place, taking advantage of the fact there was no host at the stand to stop him from scanning the nooks and crannies of the old restaurant.

  “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”

  The new guy sounded smug. His voice immediately put Matt on edge. “I’m in the middle of something, so unless whatever you have to say is really fucking important—”

  “What are you in the middle of?”

  Did Ethan think he had time for a game of Twenty Questions? “Tell me why you called. It better be good or I’m hanging up.”

  But Matt had no idea what to do next. He’d already seen the handful of people sobering up at this hour on coffee and syrup-laden carbs. None of them were Madison. He’d even peeked into the women’s room like a creeper, but it was an empty one-holer. Trying to rein his panic in, he shoved his way out the door and into the hot night again.

  “That wouldn’t be smart, man. I think I found something you lost.”

  His fingers gripped the handle of his truck as he froze. “Something?”

  “Uh-huh. A gray backpack with a couple of dangling charms. Aww, one of them is a neon pink M, so I knew it had to be yours. And the white tassel is so you. Looks like there’s a change of clothes inside and some thoughtfully packed snacks. I love these little jerky sticks. Hmm…”